#individual: lady polly

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART MASTERLIST

Don't Fear The Reaper (Part Four/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: In attempts to escape the continued teasing about your small mishap the previous day, and the unwarranted grand display of roses sent anonymously to you that morning, you find yourself down by the docks of Small Heath where you would attempt to escape not the playful banter from your colleagues but the heavy footsteps of a man following you, when an unexpected individual conveniently comes to your aid. Your boss, Tommy.

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes, visions, manipulation of time, angst, fluff, smut, stalking, controlling behaviour, dark romance, violence, manipulation, obsessiveness, dark!tommy (This is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

Word Count: 3577

"Early bird catches the worm" Polly said winking to you as she blew out the matchstick she had just used to light one of the many candles now scattered throughout the room whilst you walked through the offices early the next morning, Intent on making up for your tardiness from the previous day.

" Something like that" you smiled back, taking off the many layers of attire you had dressed yourself in an attempt to keep the bitter frost that had descended on the city from numbing every finger and toe you wished to keep intact. That, and a keen display to every resident of Small Heath you was adamant knew of your little mishap yesterday morning that you wasn't a woman that goes flaunting her bare legs willy-nilly to any Tom, Dick and Harry.

"Ladies" Ada said, walking through with a giggling Ethel and Betsy following behind her. "Save me from them" She whispered to you, thankful for your presence and the diversion you gave from Ethel's ever expanding list of profanities.

" Getting brutal out there already" Ethel commented, rubbing her hands together as everyone turned to face her, pleasantly surprised by the lack of artistic flare in her choice of words. " So cold it would make any fuckers bollocks shrink back up" she said, running over to the burning candle Polly had lit as she hovered her trembling hands over the warm orange flame. Never mind. "What?" Ethel asked, oblivious to everything but the four pairs of eyes now staring back at her.

" Two minutes..." Polly said pointing at Ethel who was now rolling her eyes at the Shelby matriarch and everyone else that was giving her disapproving shakes of their heads. "... I counted" Polly finished, placing a large washed out jar of Robertson's apricot jam on her desk with a thud. " Profanity pot. Has your name written on it, right there. Eth-el" Polly smiled, turning it to show her as Ethel opened her mouth to say something undoubtedly crude before she realised pay day was two weeks away and she'd never make it that far.

"I will be taking a vow of silence from this day forth" Ethel commented with her head held high, slowly pushing the glass jar out of sight behind a flower pot on her desk as Polly arched her brow." In thanks to the almighty, as the brides of Christ do" she said turning the document gracefully in front of her, a small dramatic sigh of reflection leaving her lips at her sudden founded faith, the same devotion that had seen her never step another foot in church since the day she got dunked by the priest on her baptism almost twenty five years ago.

" Bloody hell" Polly said, crossing her arms as Ethel cleared her throat, nodding to the pot that Polly was now wading through her pockets to find a shilling for.

"Oi oi!" John said as he strolled through the offices making a swift beeline for your desk, deliberately sitting on the pile of folders you intended on filing. " No show for us this morning Y/N?" he teased as you pulled the papers from under his rather plump bum. "Ay up" he winked, turning the tooth pick in his mouth as you rolled your eyes exceptionally high in response to his playful remarks.

"Alright darling?" Arthur commented, wrapping his arm around John's shoulders whilst he straightened his moustache out, a small smirk settling on the corner of his lips as you waited for him and everyone else to continue their badgering of you.

"Y/N" Michael sauntered over, cap in hand with a grin on his face like some over-zealous school boy. Oh, for fuck sake. Were they all waiting for you to go into a song and dance and finish off where things had ended the previous day? Diamond encrusted nipple pasties and feathers included?

"Delivery for Miss Y/L/N" came a small voice from behind the three gormless muppets in front of you.

" Yes, here" you said, parting Arthur and John to see a young boy standing with a bouquet of a dozen red roses in his hand, his eyes barely visible above the large arrangement of fresh flowers.

" Are you the girl that..." The young shop boy started to say before John put his hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence as your eyes narrowed in on the likely culprit behind all the stares you had received that morning on your way to work.

" John boy 'ere's got a big mouth, ain't that right John?" Arthur sniffed, patting his brother's shoulder as he turned to face him.

" That's not all I've got that's big love" the third in line to the Shelby throne said winking to you, a cheeky smile dimpling his rounded cheeks.

" Give over! I've seen your todger" Arthur laughed as an intense argument between them both as to the specifics of when, and if that event had even occurred ensued. Arthurs detailed description of John's preference to being stark naked from an early age solidifying the date said unfortunate event took place, resulting in the third-youngest brother to swear on each of his siblings lives that he was now, sizeably endowed.

"Thank you" you said with a sigh of relief at the welcome end to their bickering as you reached over the desk to take the bouquet from the poor boy whose mouth was still muffled by John's forgetful hand when your eyes shot up to see Tommy leaning against the doorway, a cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of his lips. Shit." No card?" You looked nervously at the boy who simply shook his head in response as Tommy's piercing stare heated your cheeks to an unfortunate shade of red. This was the last thing you needed, an unwarranted gesture sabotaging the understanding you had both come to the previous day in his office.

" Well that's not bloody fair!" Betsy huffed as Ethel bit her bottom lip in an attempt to desperately hold back her own thoughts on the extravagant gift and the vow of silence she was already close to breaking.

" Bit creepy, don't you think? No message, no idea who it's from" you said to the room whilst you abruptly stood up, smoothing down your dress before swiftly turning on your heel and marching over to the bin next to Tommy to discard of the large arrangement of flowers, intent on showing your boss exactly where you stood on the matter.

" Looks like you have a secret admirer love" Tommy smirked as he subtly tilted his head to get a better look at you as you bent down to pick up the scattered petals that had fallen at his feet in your dramatic display of loyalty. " Wonder who?" Tommy quietly mused to you looking over your shoulder, subtly jerking his head up to Michael's direction before strolling off to his office, hands casually placed in his trouser pockets as he winked to the young delivery boy. Michael. You thought to yourself, not missing the small gesture Tommy had sent his way as your head snapped to the man whose name kept coming up, the whole exchange also not going missed by Polly's watchful eye, who's feet found her charging over to Tommy's office to confront him about the little game she knew he was playing, and the flowers that were undoubtedly sent by him.

"Wait, hang on...wait. Who sent them? Fuck..." You said with your hand out to halt the delivery boy as he ran out the door. Your flustered state not quick enough to stop his speedy steps and avoidance of questions as the hustle of the office resumed and you stood there nervously watching the Shelby cousin in the corner of your eye. Was it Michael who sent you those flowers? Michael, who was watching you that night?

"Lucky posy for you me love?" an older lady dressed in ragged clothing asked with a small bouquet of heather bound with twine held out for you to take as you were about to turn the corner onto the docks. Some fresh air from the confines of the office had been your pathetic excuse to not join the others at the Garrison for drinks that afternoon, ultimately leading you to the very spot you were standing in that might as well have been the dodgiest back alley of downtown London after all of its unusual residents you had encountered on your little afternoon detour. In reality, you not only wanted peace from the worries that had begun to weigh heavy on your mind for the third time that week, but also from the constant bombardment of attention Michael had been giving you all that morning.

" No, thank you" you quietly replied as you walked under the bridge, clutching your coat around you from the drop in temperature a gust of wind tunneling through the overpass sent your way.

" Bad luck not to..." she pouted, her comment making you come to a sudden stop. Fuck. With a broken mirror, and a black cat adamant on popping up out of nowhere on a regular basis, you were in need of some good fortune.

" Ta love " she said, polishing the penny you had given her on the sleeve of her woolen coat before quickly pocketing it as her eyes scanned the darkened tunnel suspiciously for any chancers that wished to steal what was now rightfully hers." Good things be heading your way me love, I can feel it!" she called out as she waved you off. Good things. She had best be bloody right, you thought to yourself as you looked down at the small lilac bundle of flowers in your hand, a heavy feeling of unease settling in your stomach as your eyes darted up to the empty path with a row of narrowboats lined up against the embankment. Ten-minute walk max. That's all it would take for you to get to the end and back into the welcome bustle of Small Heath's main street. Why on God's green earth did you pick this bleeding path? You thought to yourself as you started walking dangerously close to the edge when you suddenly heard the distinguishable sound of someone's heavy footsteps behind you.

" Shit" you mumbled under your breath closing your eyes, every part of you wishing you had accepted your colleagues' offer to join them in the Garrison before you slowly turned your head, squinting through the settled fog to see a man in the distance walking your way. " Shit, shit shit!" you cursed yourself as your unhurried steps turned into a brisk, panicked pace.

" Hey!" He shouted, his low voice barely audible through the thick smog as he started to jog after you, you in turn frantically matching his speed as your eyes darted between a passage way mere feet away on your right, and the barge beside you to your left. Ever attentive to your surroundings, or more specifically, anything above eye level, your careless proximity to the water's edge had you tumbling over an iron pilling just as a hand reached out and grabbed hold of your arm before you fell into the icy water and, ultimately, to your death.

" Woah...careful there sweetheart. A bit cold for a swim, eh?"

" Tommy..." You cried, falling into his arms, hiding your head in his coat as your grip tightened at the sight of the man who had been chasing after you distance closed in. Unbeknownst to you, as you buried your head in your savior's chest, the very man you had feared had already come to a stop at the gulley, placing what could have only been your scarf that dreadful gust of wind blew off you as you entered the bridge only five minutes ago on a bricked wall before heading off, something you had yet to realise in your jittery state.

"Y/N? What's going on, eh?" Tommy said, holding you in front of him, the coolness from the leather of his gloved hand gently brushing a lone tear from your cheek." Hey...shhh, come on now" he hushed your sobs away, bringing you back into his strong arms as your cries overtook your mumbling attempts to explain what had you so frightened, the feeling of your body pressed firmly against his own sending a ripple of pleasure under his skin.

" I... I thought he was... Ethel and Betsy, they told me about this man..."

"Ethel and Betsy, eh?" Tommy cut you off with a chuckle as he held you firmly by your arms. " If they told me the sky was blue on a clear summer's day, I wouldn't believe them. Two of the biggest gossipers in the whole of Birmingham, no doubt told you a bunch of fibs, hm?" He said, his own little white lie leaving his lips so naturally, so calculated as you nodded your head in response looking down at the small bouquet in your hand. " Lucky Heather..." Tommy said with a playful smile as his fingers softly brushed over your hand, taking the good luck charm from you. " Not Superstitious are you Y/N?" Tommy questioned cocking a brow, twirling the stems of the flowers between his fingers before handing them back to you.

" Lately...yes" you exhaled as Tommy rested his hand on your lower back, gently gesturing you to walk with him.

" Lately eh?" Tommy said looking down at you as you met his playful stare with a smile. "Seems we've made quite the impression on you here in Small Heath Miss Y/L/N if you're stocking up on lucky posy's already hm?" He chuckled fishing in his pockets for a cigarette. His preferred Sweet Afton's, conveniently no longer his tobacco of choice.

" It's me, I'm just...getting used to it here" you said, reassuring yourself as you pushed your nagging worries away for the umpteenth time that day. " I thought you'd be at the Garrison?" You said changing the subject as you and Tommy came to a stop at the end of the path. Always so curious. Tommy thought to himself, a subtle laugh caught in his throat leaving his lips as he brushed his hand down his mouth.

" I like to come down here, to catch some quiet. Have a boat down here I check up on. "The January" he said coming to a stop, the exhale of smoke from his tobacco following the curves of your body as Tommy looked you over, measuring what it was you were really asking whilst your lips curved into a smile as you looked up at him through your dark lashes. Did you look at every man that way, or was your bashful innocence only his to enjoy? Tommy thought to himself, when his next words suddenly caught his calculated demeanor off guard. " There are plenty of quieter places in Birmingham, could take you there if you'd like. This evening?" He said waiting for your response, his fingers subtly pressing into your back at your unexpected lapse in reaction. Rejection was something Tommy had yet to experience, and in his hearts attempt to do something his mind would never contemplate, he was about to get a lesson in the very thing his dashing charm had evaded him from ever encountering.

" Oh...Perhaps, perhaps another time Tommy" you said, taken aback by his unexpected offer. He was your boss, and as much as he was both devilishly handsome and dazzlingly alluring, you had promised him to keep things professional, assuming that meant being with him too. You thought to yourself sending him a small smile before slowly walking ahead, your arms crossed in front of you as you mentally scolded yourself for refusing his offer. He had been nothing but gentlemanly to you. Had he not?

It had been an hour since you and Tommy had arrived at the Garrison to join the others for the drinks you had originally turned down, and an hour since your close encounter with what you believed to be the man that had been both watching, and following you since your arrival in Small Heath.

"Whisky or Gin?" Ada asked taking your glass as you nodded your head to the bottle of London Dry on the table that Tommy was sat across from, watching you, deciphering your every movement as a cloud of tobacco smoke from his lips briefly haltered the piercing stare he had been giving you since you both arrived. You hadn't lied to him, had you? Keeping a secret boyfriend he didn't know about? Now that would be naughty. Tommy thought to himself as he stubbed out his cigarette, determined to find out why you refused his offer down at the docks, his bitter jealously at the thought of any man being with you accept him making his usually stoic demeanor unnervingly menacing.

" Where have you been? Michael?" Polly asked as her son entered the snug, the bottom of his beige coat damp from the dewy mud-ridden cobblestones Small Heath seemed to permanently possess.

"Leave it mum" Michael responded sharply as he quickly poured himself a whisky, looking at you above the glass. What did have him so late? You thought to yourself as you looked down at the cuffs of his muddied trousers, splattered with soil like your own stockings from your frightening impromptu run along the embankment.

"That'll be my fault, Aunt Pol" Tommy said lighting another cigarette, tossing the box of matches on the chair next to him his cousin was about to sit on, the tension between the two family members heightening with each passing second." Sent Michael here on a little errand for me. Went for a run as well, I see..." Tommy said raising his brow as he looked down at his cousin's grubby dress shoes." Does anybody smell, shit?...Michael?" Tommy lent forward his nose turning up in his cousin's direction as he furrowed his brow in disgust before falling back into his chair taking a drag of cigarette as an amused laugh left his lips, Arthur and John quickly following suit at the blatant dig to the unwelcome newest member to the family.

" Fuck off Tommy. Get a delivery boy next time" Michael huffed, pushing through the crowded space with an irritated pout on his face as he made his way to the empty seat next to you.

"Alright, enough you two" Polly reprimanded them both, undoubtedly trying to diffuse the animosity they felt for one another and the sinister threats Tommy had made the previous day she knew he was capable of executing.

" You alright Y/N?" Michael said, turning to face you as you found yourself putting as much space as possible between you both, now practically sitting in Adas' lap. Why wouldn't he leave you alone? You thought to yourself, feeling increasingly uneasy with his continued attention aimed solely at you at any given moment he could steal. " I was wondering, maybe you and I could, could go out somewhere this weekend?" He said quietly, but not quiet enough as the snugs chatter suddenly diffused at the perfect moment, and everyone's heads snapped to the both of you, their ears pricking up at Michaels' offer.

" Think we've found your secret admirer Y/N" Betsy hiccuped with a giggle, her third glass of gin dulling her usually sensible attitude.

"Give it a rest Betsy" Michael said slouching back into his seat as your nervous fumbling with the hem of your dress caught Ada's attention, her hand coming to rest over your jittery fingers in reassurance.

"Whatever's the matter?" She said quietly turning to face you before sending Tommy a look of concern as the chatter of the room resumed and Michael was left there waiting for your response.

" I'm fine, honest. Too much gin" you said as Ada's brow furrowed, suspicious of her cousin's overly eager display and the clear discomfort it was causing you as you looked up to Tommy who was also waiting on your response to his cousin.

" How about it then?" Michael said, putting his arm around the back of your chair as Tommy's eyes narrowed in, his jaw tightening. Touch her, I dare you. Tommy seethed to himself, Michael's next move sealing his fate if he was willing to take the risk.

" Go on Y/N, go 'av some fun. Even if it is with bloody Michael" Arthur said belching into his drink giggling, so drunk he was seconds away from falling face down onto the hard wooden table as Polly sent her eldest nephew a formidable stare. "Sorry Polly, but..." he said gesturing his hands out laughing as he looked to Tommy who was unable to hold back his own laugh and the scoff hidden within it.

" Ok. I guess..." you said reluctantly, feeling forced to give into his request as Michael's satisfied smirk widened in accomplishment as he looked over to Tommy. Michael's juvenile attempts to get under his cousin's skin going completely ignored by the notorious gangster, whose glare and anger was now aimed directly at you, unforgivably, straight at...you. Tommy's amused smile that graced his face mere minutes ago had fallen into a stare even the Grim Reaper himself would recoil from, his eyes darkening with each burn of the ash forming at the end of his cigarette loosely resting between his fingers as his face kept still and indecipherable from the enragement bubbling furiously like the pits of hell under his skin.

Oh sweetheart, now why did you go and do that?

Next part coming soon!

Tag list: @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @prettywhenicry4 @smayhem49-blog @pacifymebby @indierockgirrl @globetrotter28 @theshelbyclan @zablife @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @peakyswritings @everysage

[caw4brandon]

How to End a Story

Stories are often told through two styles. It's either a recollection of something that has already happened. Or, it's an ongoing event happening to the character's life.

The story can be told through just one main character or multiple characters but like all stories. They have to end. Let's discuss the ending of three shows that I recently watched. (I'll try not to get into the spoilers)

- They're Not just Frogs -

< Amphibia > by Matt Braly; follows three girls; Anne, Sasha and Marcy who stole a mysterious music box that transported them into another world of talking frogs, toads, newts and other horrifying monsters.

Our main character is Anne Boonchuy who found her temporary home with the Plantars; Hop Pop, Sprig and Polly. A small family of frogs who took Anne in and helped her better understand the world. The show is good at using little segments to build the world. Such as a mind manipulation sentient spore, the divisions between the main races and the mystery behind the music box.

Story-wise, the show tried to make the flow of events happen at a nicer pace. Season 1 was used on Anne to better understand the world and how things have changed between her friends. Season 2 used that change to add another twist to their relationship. As the seasons progress, the cast slowly expands.

The show eases in the main trio and their new friends. Some episodes foreshadowed what was coming for the characters, and some felt pointless. With a cast that big, it would slow the story down but surprisingly, it felt okay.

You get to spend some time with them, learn what makes them tick, what changed them and how they felt about the current state of the story. As a person who had some regrets in life, I really liked Sasha Waybright's development. She went from someone who took charge to becoming a character who matured into a better person. Giving her time to improve, showed that she improved but is still a work in progress.

As far as the ending goes, I felt a little bittersweet. I liked that it ended and that the big arc of the main trio is resolved but I would really like to see an expansion for how they deal with all the events they went through as it was rather traumatic. Thankfully, we have fan artists for that!

- Eat This Sucka!!! -

It would be impossible to avoid spoilers when < The Owl House > by Dana Terrace was at its peak. Spoilers were happening left and right!

Context, The Owl House follows the outcast teen; Luz Noceda who was meant to go to a summer camp. On the day she was about to go. Luz got distracted by a thief who went through a mysterious door that led Luz into the Demon Realm.

The series takes on a familiar arc where the outsider; Luz learns the ways of the witches but with her own creativity and innovation. Luz also resides under the care of the Owl Lady; Eda Clawthorne, King and Hooty (The house itself)

As the seasons progress, Luz helps the other witches her age improve and come out of their shells. Importantly, she finds new friends she never had in the human realm.

The Owl House is a show of obviously coded Queer characters and individuals that don't fit with the norm. Dana is a genius that never made a big fuss over the fact that some characters are openly Queer. Although the studio; Disney tried to limit the screentime to avoid public outcry.

The show is my first-ever witness to openly Queer characters being completely normal about it instead of being preachy. Perhaps this has to do with the title; Demon Realm.

"Where the general belief of the overzealous conservatives in a so-called Good and Righteous God thinks that's where Queer people and other abnormal people belong."

The main villain; Belos tries his hardest to "purify" the realm by limiting how witches use magic and violently persecute anyone who opposes these new rules. It's a symbolic view of the Puritan tyrant. That their ways are destined to be divine when it was all a ruse to further their own personal agenda.

The show suffered a mess of developments as Disney has a strong Anti-Queer policy with their shows. But Dana, the sneaky bastard that she is. (he says affectionately) Slipped in undeniable proof that the characters are proudly Queer and the Puritian miserably fails.

The ending was pure cinema! The show uses Luz's perspective to show that kids can have their own complexities and what we may think is good may not be what is right for said person. The show also displays good values of being open to change, that it's never too late to right the wrongs and Weirdos Gotta Stick Together.

- The Freaky Friends -

We finally came to my favourite show of this batch. < Hilda > by Luke Pearson is a fun and adventurous show about a young girl who loves adventures living in a world that is brimming with magic. I would like to talk more about it but I've already covered that in [The Beautiful World of Hilda]

For the sake of this post, I'm only focusing on Season 3. The final season of the series. While the show is not as plot-driven as the latter mentions. I think there is much to be said about the breath of fresh air Hilda brings to the table.

Hilda has a special place in my heart for how she managed to bring wonder and joy into my viewing experience. This season, took on a more ominous turn where the adventures get deadlier and the stakes get higher in this little world of the blue-haired adventurer.

Season 3 was commented on by the viewers as "underwhelming and inconclusive" and that it tore its own "fan theories" apart. Personally, I loved that the showrunner revealed everything and also nothing because that's the point.

Hilda is not about a big mystery, it's a pure adventure and curious exploration of the mythology surrounding Trollberg and the rest of the world in Hilda. The feeling of fulfilment but also, melancholy that the series has ended is in my opinion, the best conclusion.

Admittedly, I didn't know how to end the post. I just wanted to get my thoughts out about these three shows and how it ended. It feels like the end of another era. A close to another chapter for animation and the stories it can tell.

These three shows; Amphibia, The Owl House and Hilda proved that animation is still taking new heights but still maintains the charm of what stories are. A good ending where the arc may be over but the adventures will still carry on.

It's been a fun and tear-jerking journey with Hilda, Luz and Anne. Their worlds are unique and brimming with excitement that I haven't felt in years and a desire to catch up more.

I'll miss them dearly but hey, such is the life of an adventurer. Don't be sad that it's over. Be happy that it happened and above all. Go make your own stories!

[pollyslost]

Polly speaks out.

The other day we were watching TV and they showed a clip of Douch Bag Don's new VP candidate saying something about "Miserable childless cat ladies", and it really pissed Polly off. So I told her "We do have a blog you know, and you can post text on there too, so write up how you feel and I'll post it". These are her words:

"I have never stated my opinion on this blog before, but the remark made by J. D. Vance regarding women who have no children as being "childless cat ladies who are miserable at their own lives" has really pissed me off."

"He has no idea what an individual woman's situation might be. Some women may choose a career over having children. Others may choose not to have children because they just don't want them. Motherhood may not be for everyone. Still others may be physically unable and have no real choice in the matter. What the hell gives him the right to judge a woman based on whether she has children or not".

Polly

[the-other-art-blog]

Benophie wish list: Side plots

There's no way around it, Bridgerton has left only 15-18% of the total screen time to the main couple according to these graphs from tw. Individual screen time for the main characters changes, but this is an ensemble. Side plots took almost 50% of the total s3 screen time.

So, we're going to have side plots whether we want them or not, and frankly, they're necessary. Side plots ensure that the audience comes back season after season. I, for example, wouldn't have come back just for Kanthony or Polin if Benedict weren't in the mix.

Eloise (set up for s5)

I bet we will know what Eloise learned about the world during her visit to Scotland. Plus, I'm pretty sure Sophie will be her maid, which will open her eyes to a new social class: servants. Sophie will open her eyes to different views on marriage. For her, marriage is freedom. If El is s5, she needs to understand that marriage is a wonderful and exciting thing if you're with the right person (aka Philip Crane).

Sophie's witty personality and sass are perfect to counter Eloise. I think both women will enjoy the challenge and thrive because of it.

Frannie, John and Michaela

I think they will show the infertility storyline now so that by the time John dies there will be a son or Michaela will be able to inherit the title. I also hope they show Michaela being the biggest flirt and rake. What if she meets Ben at one of the parties! I'll talk more about Fran and Ben later.

The Battle of the Maids

Probably one of the funniest side plots for the matriarchs + more scenes about servants. In the book, Araminta steals maids and fights with confrontations with Portia and Violet about it. This would be a chance to bring back Polly Walker for a cameo + Lady D and maybe the Queen! It plays into the main story because that is how the Bridgertons have an opening for Sophie. Plus, the show has referenced a similar problem: in s2 Portia accuses Lady Cowper of stealing a maid, then in s3 when Lord Remington tells Pen that a Lady stole the host's housekeeper and that's why she didn't get invited to that ball.

Polin/LW

Jess already mentioned there's still a story to tell with Lady Whistledown. Now that Pen is no longer hiding, it would be interesting to see if the column retains its success. The allure to LW was her anonymity because she seemed impartial and therefore reliable. But if a Bridgerton is writing, how are people supposed to believe her? I wonder if this will play into Benophie. LW was very kind to Sophie, she never put in doubt Violet's story and always wrote good things about her. But, who is going to believe Pen's word when she tries to defend Sophie. Of course, she's going to do it, she's a Bridgerton. Moreover, her status as a wallflower allowed her to recollect information by hearing gossip or watching, but now that everyone knows who she is, they will be careful not to say anything near her. Or, they will try to manipulate her to spread false gossip.

Violet and Marcus

I think this will continue in Benophie season. I don't know if this will distract her from noticing that Ben is flirting with a maid or if it will make her ship Benophie even more. I plan to write a separate post on Violet and Ben's relationship. Her romance will make her want romance for her children even more and Ben already stated that Violet is obsessed with epic love stories.

The Queen

I don't know what they can do with her. The sparkler storyline was so stupid, but she was ok in part 2. I was hoping for the queen to be furious at Bridgerton because once again her match didn't work. But she seemed fine. Although, now that LW is out she's going to remember that the Bridgetrons always ignore her. Either she wants to meddle in Benedict's business or she completely ignores the family, which makes Violet nervous. Maybe they are falling out of grace with QC, and this makes Benophie story even more scandalous.

I know there's the theory that Sophie may be an illegitimate granddaughter of the queen. We'll see.

I do want QC to have something to do, even if it's just at the end of the season. I really want a scene between Benedict and QC, if only because Golda loves Luke T.

The Mondriches

Jess said that the show will continue to explore the friendship between Benedict and Will. So, maybe they help him realize how much Sophie means to him and that the sacrifice is worth it. I suppose they will continue hosting balls and being part of society.

Kanthony

I don't think they will have more than a cameo, tbh. Maybe they'll be there at the Masquerade and Benophie's wedding if there is a wedding. But Simone and Johny are too successful now, they won't have much time. I will also write more about Ben and Anthony in another post, but I hope we have a chance to revisit Sienna and show Anthony being concerned about his brother. I wrote a little scene in AO3 about it.

All of these side plots can be related to Benophie giving other characters their screen time while also focusing on the main couple.

Who shouldn't come back:

The Featherington sisters

They're done, they did well this season, and they had their redemption arc.

But there's no space for them! These are 8 sideplots!

Cressida

I used to like the theory where the Cowpers were Sophie's family but after s3, I want her out for good. Instead of showing remorse for her bullying, she indulged in self-pity for 8 episodes. And the worst part is that people bought it. At least book!Cressida was a bitch and she owned it.

I'd love to hear your thoughts about it!

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby - Chapter One- Escape (part 11)

Fic Masterlist

Masterlist

Join taglist

While walking with the boy, Finn, I couldn't help but wonder if his home might be a brothel. Was it possible that I'd have to resort to unsavory means to make a living? So, I engaged Finn in conversation, learning that he hailed from the Shelby family, with three brothers off at war and only a sister, sister-in-law, aunt, and the brothers' children at home. It didn't sound like the setting for a family-run brothel—probably not. Finn wasn't much of a talker; he carried himself like a miniature adult, quite endearing. I knew I was manipulating him, but I urged Finn not to divulge our true purpose. If he helped me keep this secret, I promised to bake delectable cakes for him, just like those displayed in London's bakery windows. I didn't mean to deceive his family; I was merely keeping certain details hidden. My survival depended on it. Finn's home was located at 6 Waterley Lane, a detail I committed to memory. Finn reached the door but hesitated to knock, so I placed my luggage down and rapped on the door myself. It swung open, and a pale girl with brown hair peered out. When she spotted Finn beside me, she embraced him, exclaiming, "Oh my god! You're finally back!" "Let me go, Ada, you're squeezing me too hard." Finn struggled in his sister's embrace, then cast a cautious glance in my direction. I pretended not to notice and found the situation rather amusing. Like my brother, even as he grew older, he remained wary of appearing awkward in front of ladies. "Who are you?" Ada inquired, turning her attention to me after releasing her brother. Suppressing my hunger-induced irritability , I mustered a sweet smile and replied, "Greetings, ma'am. I am Diana Turner."

As our eyes met, I sensed that this woman was the head of the household. Polly Shelby bore the countenance of a lioness guarding her territory, and her hair mirrored her fierce demeanor. Confronted with her seasoned gaze, I understood that I had to cast aside any pretense and disguises. It was only through sincerity that I could earn her trust, and I needed to appear as if I could be of use—useful vagrants were more likely to survive, as my father had once wisely remarked.

"Hello, madam, I am Diana Turner. My parents have passed away, and my relatives were planning to marry me off to an unsavory individual, intending to pilfer my inheritance. I arrived here with no other recourse, madam," I confessed, standing up as Polly entered the room. In that moment, I clutched the corners of my clothing, nervously rubbing the fabric. It wasn't an act; faced with such an awkward predicament, anyone would feel anxious and disoriented. Difficult times called for desperate measures, and in front of a woman exuding such a commanding aura as Polly Shelby, I needed to make myself appear as indispensable as possible—only then could I hope to survive. "I just wish to find employment and establish myself, madam. I harbor no ill intentions."

"Aunt Polly, you should keep her. The cakes she bakes are exquisite," Ada interjected.

Polly Shelby gave her a searching look. "You say you can calculate?" She looked at me, and I nodded. She then placed a worn notebook and a pen on the table, sliding them in my direction. I understood her unspoken request and bent my head to perform a quick calculation. Ten minutes later, I pushed the notebook back toward her. She glanced at the figures and nodded in approval.

"You may stay, Miss Turner, and contribute your skills to our household. But it would be best if I never discover any ulterior motives from you," Polly warned.

"No, ma'am," I assured her, relief washing over me as I realized I had found a temporary haven amidst the turbulence of my life.

[mischiefmanaged71]

In This Moment (1/?)

Summary: A single moment can spark a magnificent change in a person’s life. 

A/N: Peaky Blinders au, Ewan Mitchell (OC) x fem! reader

Shuffling through the papers in the stack in her hand, Y/N swung through the crowd of people in the office. The bustle of the morning prior to the next big job had many resources on hand, including herself. Y/N was working closely with Ada who was back in London on several agendas, including a more exclusive topic of certain figures of interest to Tommy and the Shelby’s business. She desperately missed her close friend, after all, being surrounded by the crowds of men consistently became tiresome. Having someone to talk to and relate was a different company than what the Shelby boys offered in their rowdy and explosive natures. Their tenacity and attitudes were something she had grown used to over the many years of knowing the family.

That very morning she received a call from Arthur, requesting her presence in the office at Tommy’s behest. It was probably an update, she suspected. Or something of the sort. She arrived early, peering around at the busy crowd so wandering about seemed the opportune moment. Polly’s door was creaked open slightly, giving her view into the person sat at the desk. An excited laugh escaped her as she knocked on the door, peering into the doorway at Ada sat with her son, Karl, in her lap. 

Y/N crashed into Ada’s shoulders, hugging her tightly “Ada! You didn’t tell me you’d be in. What’re you doing here?”

Polly smiled at the interaction as she overlooked her papers once more, a puff of smoke leaving her lips. 

“It was about time to get out of the house. Thought I’d bring Karl back for a visit too since things have calmed.” she replied, brushing her son’s hair back.

Y/N smiled warmly, caressing the boy’s cheek as he looked up and grinned at the familiar face of his aunt. Growing up on the same street as the Shelby’s meant chaos, fun and a many other things that couldn’t have been good when pairing five children. Although all different ages, Y/N felt she could hang around with the Shelby’s as one of their own. Precisely as to why including her in the family business wasn’t a second thought. 

“It’s great to see you.” Y/N nodded, “Lord knows we need more women around here.” earning laughter from both women. Karl clapped his hands in response.

“Busy morning? Earlier than you usually come in.” Polly pointed out, glancing up from her desk.

Y/N exhaled a breath, leaning against the desk, “Yeah, a few jobs to take care of. Arthur said Tommy’s got something for me. Not too sure what.”

“If you’re not too busy later, maybe we could have dinner together?”

“I’d love that.” Y/N smiled, her eyes drifting to the large window peering into the office space. Her attention fell on an individual standing to the side, out of the chaos. He had a straight posture, hands tucked in his pockets in a relaxed manner as he watched the room attentively. She ran her eyes over his blonde hair, these deep blue eyes somewhere far off where she wanted to gaze into. Her heartbeat picked up, the sound of it drumming in her ears. Y/N noted his strong jawline and appreciated it as the muffle of conversation bled into the background of her mind, overcome with a sudden interest in this stranger. 

Ada’s voice brought her back, “Y/N?” 

She furrowed her brows, returning her attention to the ladies “Sorry, did you say something?"

“Ada was just telling us about the lovely weather they’ve been having in London.”

The women shared a look before Ada continued, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “A bit distracted there?” peering through the window.

“No-I, uh.” a breathy laugh escaped her mouth. She was saved by a knock at the door brought their attention away as Arthur stood there, an expecting look on his face.

“Morning ladies. Hope I’m not interrupting.” he winked, “Tommy’s ready for ya.”

Y/N sighed, bidding her goodbyes to the ladies before following Arthur out. “Since when are you Tommy’s errand boy?”

“I’m not. That’s simply for your benefit.” he tugged his arm around her shoulders at the teasing smirk on her face, “Only the best for our, Y/N/N.”

“Of course.” she grinned, “Wouldn’t expect any less treatment from you lot.”

Arthur laughed, relaxing his arm as they crossed to the doorway, holding the door open for her. She sent him a grateful smile, passing through the doorway to Tommy’s office, the man himself sitting at his desk. The door shut behind the, as Arthur left.

“Good, you’re here.” Tommy noted, standing from his seat. Her attention drew to the other figure in the room, the stranger she had her sights set on. He was dressed in a similar fashion to the other men around; a dark coloured trouser, shirt and tie, with the matching coat for the cold Birmingham mornings.

Her mouth parted slightly, particularly at the beauty of his features up close and the mellow blue eyes that stirred something her chest. Y/N smoothed her expression out and appeared neutral as she focused back on Tommy. 

“It has come to my attention there have been occasions where your security has been in question.”

She nodded, not exactly reading into where Tommy was going with this.

“Arthur and I have come to a decision over it and we came up with a solution.” He gestured to the other man, “This is William Adler,” he gestured, “I’ve hired him to be part of your personnel.”

She remained silent for the moment, running it over in her mind as her thoughts came to a halt at the proposition.

“Right. That’s one, then.” she replied, glancing between the men. She stepped forward, folding her arms across her chest “What exactly is Mr Alder being hired for?”

“Anything you need, Mr Adler will handle it.” he clapped a hand on Will’s back, bringing the man’s eyes back to Tommy. 

He nodded, “If its any reassurance, not my first job in protection.”

A look of intrigue crossed her face before Y/N stepped to the side with Tommy, as she whispered in a hushed tone, “You didn’t think to ask me beforehand about this?”

“It’s for your benefit, Y/N. Adler will follow you around, keep you safe from those that wish to do you harm. Which is far too many when you’re a part of this family.” he nodded.

"I know, Tommy. You and Pol have done a lot for me, but don't you think you should consult me first before making decisions like this?"

"This is your safety we're talking about. I won't be arguing with you on this. Leave it." He sent her a curt look that silenced her next words. She nodded.

“If you have any problems, tell me and I’ll fix it.” patting her arm as he stepped to his desk. A puff of smoke left his mouth as he gestured to the door. 

“I’ll allow you two to be acquainted. You’ll be spending a lot of time together.” 

“Morning, Tommy.” Y/N nodded, still stunned on this inside as she managed a facade of decorum. Walking to the door, only to be met with Will’s taller stature holding the door open for her. She bowed her head to hide the blush forming on her cheeks, murmuring a thanks that she hoped he could hear before exiting Tommy’s office. Her heart beat faster in her chest as her thoughts ran amuck, the tread of his shoes thumping behind her. 

She swallowed, forming a sentence “I’m uh, Y/N.” formally introducing herself. The amusement on his face caused her to cough shakily, “You already knew that. Uh-it’s nice to meet you, Mr Alder. I hope I didn’t offend you at all, I was simply surprised.”

“Will.” he replied curtly, studying her face.

“Sorry?” she turned to him, a soft look on her face as she held onto his words. His voice was a melodic sound she could listen to forever.

“You can call me Will.” a smile tugging at his lips. “And it’s fine. I understand.”

“Right.” she smiled bashfully, “Sorry about that.” she gestured behind her at Tommy’s office.

“Tommy is mostly blunt. He’s the boss and...well, he makes all of the important decisions around here. Mostly without oversight.”

“My apologies for disrupting your routine, Ms. I understand its not conventional, but I believe Mr Shelby has your best interests in mind.” he dipped his head to look at her. 

“It appears so.” she blinked, shaking her head to continue walking down the corridor, “No, I uh-I’m sure we’ll get to know each other very well. Tommy should have just asked and...”

“If you ask me, I think we’ll get along just fine.” he turned his hands in his pocket as they arrived at Polly’s office. His back was to the window, while Y/N was in the frame. He leaned down, his breath brushing her ear, “A bit of advice.” 

Y/N felt her whole body freeze in anticipation, her blood pounding in her ears as she felt breath escape her.

“You can see through the window from both sides.” he glanced down at her with a coy look, a smirk tugging at his handsome face. Y/N’s mouth parted, staring up at him with this wonderous look before she shock back into her reverie, inhaling a sharp breath. She had glanced between his eyes and full lips for far too long to be considered appropriate.

“I-I’m to see Ada off.” she breathed, a shy smile as she brushed past him to Polly’s office. The door swung closed behind her as Y/N stared at the women who looked back with expecting looks. 

“What?” she deadpanned, breathless for the moment as she brushed her hair back. Her hands fell to her waist as she failed to push the thought of the man from the forefront of her mind.

Polly smirked at her dishevelled demeanour, sharing a knowing look with Ada as she tapped her pen, “You’ve got an interesting situation there.”

“Did you know about this, Pol?”

The woman shook her head, watching the exasperated expression on Y/N’s face stretch with her furrowed brows. 

“What happened?”

Y/N folded her arms, wetting her lips “Your brother has assigned me my own personal guard.”

Ada smiled, her eyebrows perking up at the man leaning against the pillar outside the office, his eyes averted to the crowd once more. “What’s the problem then?”

Y/N refused to answer, nodding her head back to the window as she glanced at his side profile. Her heart swelled at his perfectly sculped bone structure. There was this effortlessness to his whole demeanour and look that enraptured her attention unlike anyone had before. 

“The way I see it, this is good for you. You’re always working too hard. Having the help will do you some good.” Ada paused, “And it doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome too.” laughing at the devastated look on Y/N’s face.

“Don’t.” She held a hand up at Ada, glancing back at his profile through the window. Even his side profile was stunning. 

“Pol?” Y/N turned to the older woman, looking for reprieve.

She waved her hand, “I had no idea he would do that. And you know you’d better listen to Tom, lest he grow upset with you. Or worse, he’ll stop you from working altogether.”

She folded her arms, staring at Ada’s enticed expression. The woman was finding far too much delight in Y/N’s reaction.

“What? I don’t see why you’re so distressed. We both saw you eyeing him earlier.” Ada followed. 

Y/N folded her arms, “Exactly. Spending almost every waking minute by his side. Do you know what that’ll do to me?"

“Make you less miserable?”

Y/N choked out a laugh, “I’ll make a right fool of myself, Ada. This is not something I anticipated.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” the woman chided.

“You know me so well.” she narrowed her eyes.

“It’ll be fine.” Ada replied, grasping her hands, “This is a reassurance for us all. To know that you’re safe when we can't be there. It's a reassurance that'll set us at ease."

Ada would be right in that sense. Tommy meant well, it was just the methodology behind it that put Y/N off. She would have to learn to adapt and exist within this man’s presence. Even given the fact she felt she would buckle at the knees with a single look. 

“Do tell us how it goes.” Polly replied, a smirk on her face. 

“I’ll be sure to tell you all about it.” Y/N regarded, moving back toward the door where her new protector patiently awaited her return. 

How her heart was going to rule with the effect Will had on her was in question for sure. She would do what Tommy wished for his sake. 

Oh, what trouble would come with the sway of one’s heart. 

Anything could happen.

[televinita]

This is a GIANT sale, probably even besting the Big One from April. Very reasonable prices: $2 for most books, $1 for CDs and teen/juvenile or mass market paperbacks, 50 cents for the really skinny ones. Some older books individually priced higher but very fairly for their condition and scarcity, and they always have a nice selection of them. This is a community fundraiser sale so they lease out space wherever they can find it, and this year it filled half a vacant warehouse. The sale also runs every day for two weeks straight, but due to its distance and various commitments I didn't get to go until day 11.

And still, there was TONS (albeit not a lot in the way of books less than 10 years old). I would actually like to have gone back, because I ended up only being able to spend 3 hours there and it was NOT enough time to thoroughly rake the place over or make sure I had made the very wisest purchases, but alas, more Commitments and a dash of weather got me. >:(

As for what I actually got -- oh shoot, I keep moving them around; I already see I missed photographing at least one -- a few of the children's books above are replacement copies of beloved titles in nicer condition than the beat-up ones I have, but most of these are new to me and I'm very excited. The level of general interest increases as you get farther, I promise.

======

1. Happily After All - Laura C. Stevens: replacement copy. I didn't read this until adulthood, but it's from my era and I LOVED it and I know I would have loved it had I come across it as a kid, too.

2. Babysitters Club Super Special #2: Summer Vacation: look i wasn't GOING to collect these but this one looks practically brand new so maybe I can have one more rep as a treat (maybe even relinquish that other one in Bad Shape from the last sale)

3. Animal inn #7: The Pet Makeover - Virginia Vail: this series I AM collecting and I am THRILLED to have one that is both in great condition and that I'm not sure I've read.

4. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens: I told you I was going to replace my ugly copy someday, and the bonded-leather-with-gilt-edges Barnes & Noble edition is one of the prettier ones I know about.

5. A Horse For Mandy - Lurlene McDaniel: look, it's very short & silly but it was kind of a literary bucket goal to read her very first book (originally pubbed 1981), featuring horses instead of sicklit, having already grabbed another early one, Where's The Horse For Me?

6. A Horse For X.Y.Z. - Louise Moeri: another replacement of a childhood fave. My copy isn't bad but old paperbacks are such poor quality in general that I figured I might as well own the nicest available.

7. Silver - Thomas C. Hinkle: not in great shape, but by an author whose 1920s & 30s animal stories I am always looking to read more of. I'm excited to have a Comet Books edition because they have the coolest color graphics on the back (you can see an example on Goodreads here), and honestly condition isn't bad for a pulp paperback pushing 75 years of age.

8. Mayday! ... Mayday! - Hilary Milton: a random grabbed-to-read survival adventure, two teens seeking help after the plane they're on crashes into a forested mountainside. Probable read-and-release, unless the small size tricks me into keeping it along with my 200 other mass markets.

9. Touch The Moon - Marion Dane Bauer: maybe my favorite by her, a girl who longs for a horse is disappointed to only receive a china one...but at night he temporarily transforms into a real horse. Who can talk. Magical adventure time!

10. Summer of the Wolves - Polly Carlson Voiles: replacement copy of one of the all-time best middle grade novels I've ever read as an adult.

11. Lucky Lady - Susan Saunders: replacement copy of a short horse book for preteens that I nevertheless read and loved in high school. I wanted it so bad that I've literally kept a crappy paperback copy with teen marks and a torn cover from a Little Free Library...until now!

12. Cliques, Hicks & Ugly Sticks - K.D. McCrite: guess who is SO THRILLED to have found the 2nd book in this middle grade quartet (not available at local library) only two months after reading the first one and falling in utter love!

13. Almena's Dogs - Regina Woody: one of the few uncommon books in the Grosset & Dunlap "Famous Dog Stories," I've never seen it before. Probably was unpopular because I'm pretty sure it's the ONLY one that features a girl, let alone a Black one. A Goodreads friend read this recently so I was really excited to find my own copy! From 1954 originally, so it seems ahead of its time. Already read half of it and I'm so in love. I am also now interested in a bunch more Regina Woody books, having never heard of her before, but damn. They are scarce.

14. All Dogs Go to Heaven - Beth Brown: I was literally two steps away from joining the checkout line when I spotted a box of old books under a table I hadn't looked at before. This was the third one down. Since I was out of time, I just SEIZED without even enough time to open the cover and make sure it was actually dog stories -- but it definitely is and I could not be more thrilled.

(P.S. This is illustrated by a Mr. Carl Cobbledick. They simply do not make names like that anymore.)

15-16. A Separate Peace + Peace Breaks Out - John Knowles: the exact editions I've checked out of the library, too, lol (though I hate the latter because the back cover is just a giant jump-scare of the author's face. i pray this horrid 80s trend never returns). I think I mentioned before that I was idly thinking of reading them this year; I ended up not doing so but Mom did, so might try again this fall.

17. The Stillmeadow Road - Gladys Taber: the very first book I ever read from her, which would eventually kick off a deep appreciation for her work! one of several books featuring musings & anecdotes on a quiet life as a writer in the countryside, residing in a late 17th century (American) farmhouse, with plenty of pets.

18.Ranch of Dreams - Cleveland Amory: I've been idly meaning to read this one for a while. Don't know if I'll keep it 'cause it's a BIG hardcover, but his Cat Who Came For Christmas trilogy was one of the first pet memoirs I read waaay back in the day, and he just did incredible things with his money (i.e. set up an animal sanctuary. this book was published in 1997, a year before he passed, but the sanctuary still exists!).

19. If Wishes Were Horses: The Education of a Veterinarian - Loretta Gage, D.V.M., w/ [her sister the writer] Nancy Gage: vet memoirs were also some of the earliest adult nonfiction I read, starting in middle school -- I literally read every single one the library had. I don't read them nearly as much anymore, but I'm still interested, especially older ones like this (released 1993) by women when they were still fighting to be taken seriously in the profession, especially in large animal practice. We're talking 1970s and even 80s here.

20. Wild Voice of the North: The Chronicle of an Eskimo Dog - Sally Carrighar: this book is in rouuuuuugh shape, but I simply could not resist him face.

And for the final wrap-up of random books... (also featuring: the one I forgot)

21. Martha's Vineyard: Isle if Dreams - Susan Branch: I FINALLY FOUND THE FINAL BOOK IN THE MEMOIR TRILOGY!!!!!! Actually found them all in a 7-month period, come to think of it, which is wild because I have been keeping an eye out for 8 years (I do actually still need a replacement copy of the last one w/ a dust jacket, but at least I could read it if I wanted to). Reminders of how pretty they are inside, the closest you will ever get to finding a real journal:

moving on...

22. Inside Dunder Mifflin: I don't love the illustration style but I do love that it was published after the series ended, so it is able to address everything up to and including the finale. It's just such a fun novelty item I don't even really know how to describe it yet, may not keep forever, but sure fun to have now!

23. How Far You've Come - Morgan Harper Nichols: I gather she's some sort of influencer; have not heard of her or this book but I am a SUCKER for a smaller-than-average hardcover-with-no-dust-jacket gift book full of text interspersed with pretty drawings and poems.

24. [CD] Skye Dyer - Letting Go (2014): Dunno who she is, picked solely on the basis of "young and pretty white woman on cover = good enough odds I'll like it to gamble $1". I've only played through it once, but this time my instincts appear to be on point.

And the silliest find of all...

25. Dawson's Creek: The Official Postcard Book: mostly because it's in like-new condition and I simply know, I KNOW, that this kind of nostalgic novelty item cannot easily be had for $1 anywhere else.

I still haven't even ever seen an episode of the show. This would be a greater find if I could sell things online, TBH, because the true value is I'm pretty sure I could flip this for at least $10; the binding is so tight that I can't really see all the postcards well without dismantling it, and if I do that I kill some of the value, which I'm not ready to do.

Nevertheless I'm having fun looking at what I can see of all the senior-portrait-style photos; Katie Holmes in particular is simply stunning.

=====

And there we go! Biggest bummer was that despite this sale being a RESPLENDENT repository of 70s-90s teen & children's paperbacks, not a single Lynn Hall book to be found. Where did all of her books GO, goddamn. Also kind of surprised not to see any Marguerite Henry, not even the heavily reprinted paperbacks (most of which are still in print).

But the Susan Branch book -- which I forgot to actually look for, and just happened to spot by chance on my way out of the biggest room for the last time -- and the vintage animal books were definitely worth the trip.

[historyhermann]

My Adventures With Superman Season One Spoiler-Filled Review [Part 2]

Continued from part 1

The voice cast is talented. Jack Quaid lent his voice to Peter Parker / Lizard in Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse and more prominently as Ensign Bradward "Brad" Boimler in Star Trek: Lower Decks. This series marks one of Alice Lee's first voice roles, apart from voicing a character in Mickey Mouse Funhouse. She has played characters in TV series since 2009. Ishmel Sahid has been working on similar series since around the same time. In an exclusive interview with Lee and Sahid, both said they were excited to see fanart, but also said it was challenging to maintain the high energy of Lois and Jimmy. Both noted the writers and producers helped them. They described how they had to adjust their speaking voices to the characters and explained the flair they gave each character through the voices.

One member of the voice cast, Kari Wahlgren, is well-known. She voiced Martha Kent, and young Clark Kent, in this series. She has done dubbing of anime characters since 2002, and has voiced iconic characters in Western animation. This includes Electronique in Kim Possible,  Suzy Johnson in Phineas and Ferb, Tigress/Sheena in Carmen Sandiego, Callie in the somewhat underrated Cleopatra in Space, and Zatanna in DC Super Hero Girls. She also lent her voice to characters in Sym-Bionic Titan, Young Justice, Infinity Train, Dota: Dragon's Blood, The Ghost and Molly McGee, The Owl House, Velma, and OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes.

Wahlgren is voice actor powerhouse in her own right. There are few voice actors, in the cast, who have voiced as many characters as Wahlgren. One exception is Zehra Fazal. She is recognized for voicing Nadia Rizavi in Voltron: Legendary Defender and Halo/Violet in Young Justice. She also voiced Faraday and Shannon in Craig of the Creek, Mara in She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Zahra and Sabrina in Glitch Techs, General Yunan in Amphibia, and Tassia in Dragon Age: Absolution.

Reprinted from Pop Culture Maniacs and Wayback Machine. This was the forty-ninth article I wrote for Pop Culture Maniacs. This post was originally published on September 21, 2023.

Others have voiced just as many characters. Chris Parnell voiced characters in Gravity Falls, BoJack Horseman, Elena of Avalor (Migs), Samurai Jack, and Dogs in Space (Ed). Debra Wilson previously voiced characters in Cannon Busters (Lady Day), Final Space (Quinn's mother), The Casagrandes, The Owl House, Star Trek: Prodigy, Black Dynamite, and The Proud Family. Catherine Taber voiced her share of animated characters including Padmé Amidala in Star Wars: The Clone Wars and Lori Loud in The Loud House. Lucas Grabeel voiced characters such as Jiku in Elena of Avalor and the haughty scammer Julian in Spirit Riding Free.

The voice cast includes other prominent voice actors. Vincent Tong voiced characters in 16 Hudson, Ninjago, LoliRock (Mephisto), My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Polly Pocket, and The Dragon Prince (Prince Kasef). André Sogliuzzo voiced King Bumi in Avatar: The Last Airbender and King Verago in Elena of Avalor. He also voiced characters in Samurai Jack, Star Wars Rebels, and The Owl House. Darrell Brown previously lent his voice to characters in Gabby's Dollhouse and Madagascar: A Little Wild. Azuri Hardy-Jones voiced Jade in Deer Squad. Kenna Ramsey voiced various characters in video games.

Apt viewers may recognize Jake Green, Laila Berzins, Jesse Inocalla, David Errigo Jr., Max Mittleman, and Andromeda Dunker. Errigo Jr. is known for voicing Ferb in the 2020 film, Candace Against the Universe. The film is the most recent iteration of the Phineas and Ferb franchise. Inocalla voiced Soren in The Dragon Prince. Berzins voiced characters in indie animations such as Satina, Wild Card: Shuffled, and Monkey Wrench.

Other well-known individuals voice bit characters in the seventh episode: Kimberly Brooks as Jalana Olsen, Osric Chau as Lewis Lane, and Lauren Tom as Leader Lois. Brooks is best-known as Princess Allura in Voltron: Legendary Defender and the rough-and-tough Jasper in Steven Universe. Some may remember Chau as the one who voiced the villainous computer hacker known as The Troll in Carmen Sandiego. Tom voiced Mop Girl in recently ended a mature animation, Disenchantment, and Amy Wong in currently airing Futurama, another mature animation. This differs with actors such as Reid Scott, Joel De La Fuente, Melanie Minichino, and Michael Emerson (as Brainac). All four do wonderful voice work on this show, but have almost exclusively, or exclusively, previously done live-action TV series.

Warner Bros. Animation is a subsidiary of the Warner Bros. Discovery conglomerate. This subsidiary produced Velma, Harley Quinn, DC Super Hero Girls, Young Justice, Justice League Unlimited, Teen Titans, Justice League, Static Shock, Superman: The Animated Series, and Batman: The Animated Series. Rooster Teeth, another subsidiary, is recognized for RWBY, its flagship series. The CRWBY is doing all they can to ensure RWBY gets a tenth season. The RWBY superhero crossover film (part 2) is coming out this fall. It may include a version of Superman, like part one.

A largely-circulated spreadsheet in which people anonymously described their conditions in animation studios mentions Warner Bros. Animation. In one entry, Warner Bros. Animation is said to have too much work and treat workers badly. However, it acknowledges that each production is different. People on Glassdoor praised Studio Mir for high-quality projects and talented colleagues. Others were more critical.

Whatever the second season of My Adventures with Superman brings, the number of fans will continue to grow (including the  10,000+ fans across two subreddits), regardless of the corporate decision to air it on Adult Swim rather than Cartoon Network, possibly because of "dark moments" in the series. Hopefully the next season goes above and beyond what the first season delivered. Even so, I can't rate this series high enough, as it is just as strong as Harley Quinn and superior in many ways to the sometimes-convoluted Young Justice and mediocre Velma.

My Adventures with Superman can be streamed on Max or Spectrum. It can also be purchased on Prime Video, either as an entire season or individual episodes, iTunes, Vudu, Google Play, or Microsoft Store.

© 2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

[kathyprior4200]

“Holly S*!t” (Short)

After Polly Pax and Timmid met in Heaven and after E.L.F. defeated the evil Atlantean aliens trying to invade the Bahamas, Docile is plagued by nightmares of his lost mother, Allita. He remembered she had been banished by the authorities for trying to destroy holy weapons and to defend the rights of demons and Sinners. Though Docile himself fears eternal banishment from Heaven, he longs to know where she is. His stern father Yeshua Cantus is concerned for his son’s safety and status, wanting him to adhere to Heaven’s norms, for he doesn’t want to lose him either. But with his father turning a blind eye to Heaven’s corruption, Docile wants to change things. But things take a turn when his zealot sister Holly Wata persuades him to not only rescue mortal souls but help them repent for their sins…or else lose his Camaelean crystal portal device and the Bible that allows them to travel to Earth!

With Camael being the sternest of the seven Heavenly Virtue rulers, Docile finds himself in the throngs of his rival Kiva Perdera, Holly Wata, Veronica (who somberly feels more distant since the lady trio began working for Camael) and the cherubs who go down to Earth to spread the Good News and counteract the succubi and the demon forces from Hazbin Hell. Docile feels disgust for these “Adamgelicals” more and more, those who will do anything to kill demons and punish mortals not living up to expectations. Docile then wonders…which Hell was his mother banished to? (2P Hell has Sinner slaves and evil demons). He is sent to the mortal world to “cleanse” the soul of a mortal who claims that Hazbin’s Beelzebub saved her from addictions. Could demons have a good side to them? Docile will have to choose: follow the orders of Camael and his sister despite her subconsciously blaming him for not saving Allita? Try to please his father with more menial and Exorcist work? Help the demons and outcast mortals? Head to Hell to rescue his mother on his own? Will E.L.F. stand against more individuals plotting to bring them down?         

[mxamalgam]

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain

Table of Contents

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer.............................................................................................................................1

Mark Twain....................................................................................................................................................2

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

i

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer 1

Mark Twain

P R E F A C E

MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the

rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from

an individual −− he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to

the composite order of architecture.

The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of

this story −− that is to say, thirty or forty years ago.

Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by

men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once

were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes

engaged in.

THE AUTHOR.

HARTFORD, 1876.

T O M S A W Y E R

CHAPTER I

"TOM!"

No answer.

"TOM!"

No answer.

"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!"

No answer.

The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and

looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her

state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service −− she could have seen through a pair of

stove−lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for

the furniture to hear:

"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll −−"

She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so

she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.

"I never did see the beat of that boy!"

She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that

constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted:

"Y−o−u−u TOM!"

There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his

roundabout and arrest his flight.

"There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?"

"I don't know, aunt."

"Well, I know. It's jam −− that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you.

Hand me that switch."

The switch hovered in the air −− the peril was desperate −−

"My! Look behind you, aunt!"

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 2

The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the

high board−fence, and disappeared over it.

His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh.

"Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out

for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is.

But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to

know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off

for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and

that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up

sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws−a−me! he's my own dead sister's boy,

poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me

so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well−a−well, man that is born of woman is of few days

and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [*

Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to−morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard

to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything

else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child."

Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small

colored boy, saw next−day's wood and split the kindlings before supper −− at least he was there in time to tell his

adventures to Jim while Jim did three−fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half−brother) Sid

was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous,

troublesome ways.

While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions

that were full of guile, and very deep −− for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other

simple−hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious

diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she:

"Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?"

"Yes'm."

"Powerful warm, warn't it?"

"Yes'm."

"Didn't you want to go in a−swimming, Tom?"

A bit of a scare shot through Tom −− a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it

told him nothing. So he said:

"No'm −− well, not very much."

The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said:

"But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was

dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the

wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move:

"Some of us pumped on our heads −− mine's damp yet. See?"

Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then

she had a new inspiration:

"Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton

your jacket!"

The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed.

"Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a−swimming. But I forgive ye,

Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is −− better'n you look. THIS time."

She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for

once.

But Sidney said:

"Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black."

"Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!"

But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said:

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 3

"Siddy, I'll lick you for that."

In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread

bound about them −− one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said:

"She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes

she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other −− I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you

I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!"

He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though −− and loathed him.

Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less

heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and

drove them out of his mind for the time −− just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new

enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he

was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird−like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced

by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music −− the reader probably

remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he

strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an

astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet −− no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is

concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer.

The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was

before him −− a boy a shade larger than himself. A new−comer of any age or either sex was an impressive

curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too −− well dressed on a

week−day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his closebuttoned blue cloth roundabout was

new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on −− and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a

bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid

marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him

to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved −− but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to

face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said:

"I can lick you!"

"I'd like to see you try it."

"Well, I can do it."

"No you can't, either."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't."

"I can."

"You can't."

"Can!"

"Can't!"

An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:

"What's your name?"

"'Tisn't any of your business, maybe."

"Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business."

"Well why don't you?"

"If you say much, I will."

"Much −− much −− MUCH. There now."

"Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted

to."

"Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it."

"Well I WILL, if you fool with me."

"Oh yes −− I've seen whole families in the same fix."

"Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!"

"You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off −− and anybody that'll take a dare will

suck eggs."

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 4

"You're a liar!"

"You're another."

"You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up."

"Aw −− take a walk!"

"Say −− if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head."

"Oh, of COURSE you will."

"Well I WILL."

"Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because

you're afraid."

"I AIN'T afraid."

"You are."

"I ain't."

"You are."

Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom

said:

"Get away from here!"

"Go away yourself!"

"I won't."

"I won't either."

So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and

glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and

flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said:

"You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll

make him do it, too."

"What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is −− and what's more, he can

throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.]

"That's a lie."

"YOUR saying so don't make it so."

Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:

"I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal

sheep."

The new boy stepped over promptly, and said:

"Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it."

"Don't you crowd me now; you better look out."

"Well, you SAID you'd do it −− why don't you do it?"

"By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it."

The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to

the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the

space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose,

and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom

appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he.

The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying −− mainly from rage.

"Holler 'nuff!" −− and the pounding went on.

At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said:

"Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time."

The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back

and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom

responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up

a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the

traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the

enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 5

enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away;

but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy.

He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an

ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his

Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness.

CHAPTER II

SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life.

There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every

face and a spring in every step. The locust−trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air.

Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a

Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.

Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long−handled brush. He surveyed the fence,

and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet

high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the

topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the

far−reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree−box discouraged. Jim came skipping out

at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful

work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump.

White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings,

quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards

off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour −− and even then somebody generally had to go after

him. Tom said:

"Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some."

Jim shook his head and said:

"Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody.

She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own

business −− she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'."

"Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket −− I won't be

gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know."

"Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would."

"SHE! She never licks anybody −− whacks 'em over the head with her thimble −− and who cares for that, I'd

like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt −− anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel.

I'll give you a white alley!"

Jim began to waver.

"White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw."

"My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis −−"

"And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe."

Jim was only human −− this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and

bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying

down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring

from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye.

But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows

multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would

make a world of fun of him for having to work −− the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his

worldly wealth and examined it −− bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe,

but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his

pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 6

upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration.

He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently −− the very boy, of all

boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop−skip−and−jump −− proof enough that his heart

was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals,

followed by a deep−toned dingdong −dong, ding−dong−dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew

near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously

and with laborious pomp and circumstance −− for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to

be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine−bells combined, so he had to imagine himself

standing on his own hurricane−deck giving the orders and executing them:

"Stop her, sir! Ting−a−ling−ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk.

"Ship up to back! Ting−a−ling−ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides.

"Set her back on the stabboard! Ting−a−ling−ling! Chow! ch−chow−wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime,

describing stately circles −− for it was representing a forty−foot wheel.

"Let her go back on the labboard! Ting−a−lingling ! Chow−ch−chow−chow!" The left hand began to describe

circles.

"Stop the stabboard! Ting−a−ling−ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your

outside turn over slow! Ting−a−ling−ling! Chow−ow−ow! Get out that head−line! LIVELY now! Come −− out

with your spring−line −− what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that

stage, now −− let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting−a−ling−ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the

gauge−cocks).

Tom went on whitewashing −− paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said:

"Hi−YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!"

No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep

and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he

stuck to his work. Ben said:

"Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?"

Tom wheeled suddenly and said:

"Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing."

"Say −− I'm going in a−swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK −−

wouldn't you? Course you would!"

Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:

"What do you call work?"

"Why, ain't THAT work?"

Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly:

"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer."

"Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?"

The brush continued to move.

"Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?"

That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth

−− stepped back to note the effect −− added a touch here and there −− criticised the effect again −− Ben watching

every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said:

"Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little."

Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind:

"No −− no −− I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence −−

right here on the street, you know −− but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's

awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe

two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done."

"No −− is that so? Oh come, now −− lemme just try. Only just a little −− I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom."

"Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly −− well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid

wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and

anything was to happen to it −−"

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 7

"Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say −− I'll give you the core of my apple."

"Well, here −− No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard −−"

"I'll give you ALL of it!"

Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big

Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs,

munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened

along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had

traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in

for a dead rat and a string to swing it with −− and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the

afternoon came, from being a poor poverty−stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He

had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews−harp, a piece of blue bottle−glass to look

through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a

tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire−crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog−collar −−

but no dog −− the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange−peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.

He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while −− plenty of company −− and the fence had three coats of

whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village.

Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human

action, without knowing it −− namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to

make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he

would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists

of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial

flowers or performing on a tread−mill is work, while rolling ten−pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement.

There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four−horse passengercoaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily

line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the

service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign.

The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and

then wended toward headquarters to report.

CHAPTER III

TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward

apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast−room, dining−room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the

restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was

nodding over her knitting −− for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were

propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she

wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play

now, aunt?"

"What, a'ready? How much have you done?"

"It's all done, aunt."

"Tom, don't lie to me −− I can't bear it."

"I ain't, aunt; it IS all done."

Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been

content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not

only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment

was almost unspeakable. She said:

"Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted

the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play;

but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you."

She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 8

choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took

to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish,

he "hooked" a doughnut.

Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second

floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail−storm; and

before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken

personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too

crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to

his black thread and getting him into trouble.

Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cowstable. He

presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the

village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom

was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great

commanders did not condescend to fight in person −− that being better suited to the still smaller fry −− but sat

together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides−de−camp. Tom's

army won a great victory, after a long and hard−fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged,

the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the

armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone.

As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden −− a lovely little

blue−eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long−tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes.

The fresh−crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not

even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as

adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had

confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days,

and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done.

He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he

did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her

admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by−and−by, while he was in the midst of

some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way

toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile

longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her

foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she

disappeared.

The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and

began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he

picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from

side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his

pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a

minute −− only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart −− or next his stomach, possibly,

for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway.

He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited

herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window,

meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions.

All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a

good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's

very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said:

"Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it."

"Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you."

Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar−bowl −− a sort of

glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke.

Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 9

he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the

mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch

it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood

above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!"

And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried

out:

"Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for? −− Sid broke it!"

Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only

said:

"Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't

around, like enough."

Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that

this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept

silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew

that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He

would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and

then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his

aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with

that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with

his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall

like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he

would lie there cold and white and make no sign −− a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so

worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to

choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from

the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any

worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently,

when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age−long visit of one week

to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at

the other.

He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with

his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary

vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without

undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled

and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would

she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly

away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over

and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up

sighing and departed in the darkness.

About half−past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he

paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a

second−story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through

the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on

the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor

wilted flower. And thus he would die −− out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly

hand to wipe the death−damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony

came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one

little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted,

so untimely cut down?

The window went up, a maid−servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water

drenched the prone martyr's remains!

The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 10

the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and

shot away in the gloom.

Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip,

Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held

his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye.

Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission.

CHAPTER IV

THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast

over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural

quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim

chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai.

Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson

days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the

Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general

idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were

busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the

fog:

"Blessed are the −− a −− a −−"

"Poor" −−

"Yes −− poor; blessed are the poor −− a −− a −−"

"In spirit −−"

"In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they −− they −−"

"THEIRS −−"

"For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn,

for they −− they −−"

"Sh −−"

"For they −− a −−"

"S, H, A −−"

"For they S, H −− Oh, I don't know what it is!"

"SHALL!"

"Oh, SHALL! for they shall −− for they shall −− a −− a −− shall mourn −− a−− a −− blessed are they that shall

−− they that −− a −− they that shall mourn, for they shall −− a −− shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary? −−

what do you want to be so mean for?"

"Oh, Tom, you poor thick−headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it

again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it −− and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice.

There, now, that's a good boy."

"All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is."

"Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice."

"You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again."

And he did "tackle it again" −− and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with

such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand−new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and

a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife

would not cut anything, but it was a "sure−enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that −−

though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury

is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and

was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday−school.

Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 11

little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the

water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel

behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said:

"Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you."

Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering

resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping

for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he

emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws,

like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in

front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and

a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a

dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and

plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with

bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years −− they

were simply called his "other clothes" −− and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to

rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar

down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked

exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint

about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was

blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper

and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively:

"Please, Tom −− that's a good boy."

So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday−school −− a

place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it.

Sabbath−school hours were from nine to half−past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always

remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too −− for stronger reasons. The church's

high−backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair,

with a sort of pine board tree−box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a

Sunday−dressed comrade:

"Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?"

"Yes."

"What'll you take for her?"

"What'll you give?"

"Piece of lickrish and a fish−hook."

"Less see 'em."

Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white

alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they

came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with

a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came

handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair

in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy,

presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of

a pattern −− restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his

verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward −− in

small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation.

Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten

yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the

pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even

for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way −− it was the patient work of two years −−

and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but

the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth −− a

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 12

grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed

it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets

and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare

and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot

every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's

mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for

many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it.

In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn−book in his hand and his

forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday−school superintendent makes

his customary little speech, a hymn−book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the

hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert −− though why, is a mystery:

for neither the hymn−book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a

slim creature of thirty−five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing−collar whose upper

edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth −− a fence

that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin

was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank−note, and had fringed ends; his boot

toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleighrunners −− an effect patiently and laboriously

produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was

very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence,

and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday−school voice had acquired

a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week−days. He began after this fashion:

"Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for

a minute or two. There −− that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is

looking out of the window −− I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere −− perhaps up in one of the trees

making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so

many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and

so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is

familiar to us all.

The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of

the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated

and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr.

Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude.

A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare −− the entrance of

visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle−aged gentleman

with iron−gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom

had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience−smitten, too −− he could not meet Amy

Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new−comer his soul was all

ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might −− cuffing boys, pulling

hair, making faces −− in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His

exaltation had but one alloy −− the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden −− and that record in sand

was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now.

The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he

introduced them to the school. The middle−aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage −− no less a one

than the county judge −− altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon −− and they

wondered what kind of material he was made of −− and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he

might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away −− so he had travelled, and seen the world −− these

very eyes had looked upon the county court−house −− which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these

reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge

Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man

and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings:

"Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say −− look! he's a going to shake hands with him −− he IS shaking

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 13

hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?"

Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering

judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"

−− running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect

authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" −− bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being

boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen

teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline −−

and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that

frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed

off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads

and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the

house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur −− for he was "showing off," too.

There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a

Bible−prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough −− he had been

around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again

with a sound mind.

And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red

tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not

expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it −− here were

the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and

the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the

decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the

school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy −− but those that

suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated

splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These

despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass.

The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the

circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a

mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused

two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises −− a dozen would strain his capacity, without a

doubt.

Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face −− but he wouldn't look. She

wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went −− came again; she watched; a

furtive glance told her worlds −− and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and

she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought).

Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked −−

partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to

fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine

little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out:

"Tom."

"Oh, no, not Tom −− it is −−"

"Thomas."

"Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and

you'll tell it to me, won't you?"

"Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners."

"Thomas Sawyer −− sir."

"That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many −− very,

very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more

than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good

man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday−school

privileges of my boyhood −− it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn −− it's all owing to the

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 14

good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible −− a splendid

elegant Bible −− to keep and have it all for my own, always −− it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what

you will say, Thomas −− and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses −− no indeed you

wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned −− no, I know

you wouldn't −− for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve

disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?"

Tom was tugging at a button−hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart

sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question −− why DID

the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say:

"Answer the gentleman, Thomas −− don't be afraid."

Tom still hung fire.

"Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were −−"

"DAVID AND GOLIAH!"

Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene.

CHAPTER V

ABOUT half−past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to

gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday−school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied

pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her

−− Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive

outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen

better days; the mayor and his wife −− for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the

peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good−hearted soul and well−to−do, her hill

mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities

that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable

from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn−clad and ribbon−decked young

heart−breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body −− for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their

cane−heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all

came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always

brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And

besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind,

as usual on Sundays −− accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs.

The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and

then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the

gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not

ill−bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember

anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country.

The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired

in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain

point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a

spring−board:

Shall I be car−ri−ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS

of ease,

Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODy

seas?

He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and

when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their

eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 15

mortal earth."

After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin−board, and read off

"notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom −−

a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers.

Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it.

And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church,

and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for

the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the

President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions

groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good

tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and

closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown

in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen.

There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book

relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it −− if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he

kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously −− for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old,

and the clergyman's regular route over it −− and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected

it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly

had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together,

embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the

body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing

them to its body as if they had been coat−tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was

perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare −− he believed

his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing

sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of

war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go.

The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that

many a head by and by began to nod −− and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and

thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the

pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything

else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand

and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb

should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great

spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the

on−looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it

was a tame lion.

Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure

he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws −− a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a

percussion−cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the

beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle

lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his

reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant

poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity,

sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked

around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted

his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion;

subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and

then indifferent and absent−minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the

enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards

away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces

went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so;

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 16

but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary

attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore−paws within an inch of the

creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he

grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around,

with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat

down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and

so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors;

he clamored up the home−stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet

moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and

sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died

in the distance.

By this time the whole church was red−faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had

come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of

impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered

burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew−back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious

thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction

pronounced.

Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine

service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should

play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off.

CHAPTER VI

MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so −− because it began

another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening

holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious.

Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from

school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again.

This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope.

But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered

something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter,"

as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out,

and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing

offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a

patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from

under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it

seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit.

But Sid slept on unconscious.

Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe.

No result from Sid.

Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a

succession of admirable groans.

Sid snored on.

Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan

again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom

went on groaning. Sid said:

"Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and

looked in his face anxiously.

Tom moaned out:

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 17

"Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me."

"Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie."

"No −− never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody."

"But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?"

"Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me."

"Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner ? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is

the matter?"

"I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone −−"

"Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom −− oh, don't. Maybe −−"

"I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window−sash and my cat with one

eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her −−"

But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his

imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone.

Sid flew down−stairs and said:

"Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!"

"Dying!"

"Yes'm. Don't wait −− come quick!"

"Rubbage! I don't believe it!"

But she fled up−stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip

trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out:

"You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?"

"Oh, auntie, I'm −−"

"What's the matter with you −− what is the matter with you, child?"

"Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!"

The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored

her and she said:

"Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this."

The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said:

"Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all."

"Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?"

"One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful."

"There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well −− your tooth IS loose, but you're

not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen."

Tom said:

"Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't,

auntie. I don't want to stay home from school."

"Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go

a−fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your

outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast

to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust

it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now.

But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every

boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He

gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a

centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of

his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like

Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero.

Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard.

Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and

vulgar and bad −− and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and

wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 18

gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he

got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast−off clothes of full−grown men, and they were in

perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his

coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one

suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs

dragged in the dirt when not rolled up.

Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty

hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he

could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to

fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last

to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a

word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable

boy in St. Petersburg.

Tom hailed the romantic outcast:

"Hello, Huckleberry!"

"Hello yourself, and see how you like it."

"What's that you got?"

"Dead cat."

"Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him ?"

"Bought him off'n a boy."

"What did you give?"

"I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter−house."

"Where'd you get the blue ticket?"

"Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop−stick."

"Say −− what is dead cats good for, Huck?"

"Good for? Cure warts with."

"No! Is that so? I know something that's better."

"I bet you don't. What is it?"

"Why, spunk−water."

"Spunk−water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunkwater."

"You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?"

"No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did."

"Who told you so!"

"Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers,

and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!"

"Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that

WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck."

"Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain−water was."

"In the daytime?"

"Certainly."

"With his face to the stump?"

"Yes. Least I reckon so."

"Did he say anything?"

"I don't reckon he did. I don't know."

"Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunkwater such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a−going

to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk−water

stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say:

'Barley−corn, barley−corn, injun−meal shorts, Spunk−water, spunk−water, swaller these warts,'

and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home

without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted."

"Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done."

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 19

"No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if

he'd knowed how to work spunkwater. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play

with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean."

"Yes, bean's good. I've done that."

"Have you? What's your way?"

"You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece

of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then

you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing,

trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes."

"Yes, that's it, Huck −− that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more

to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres.

But say −− how do you cure 'em with dead cats?"

"Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was

wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em,

you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you

heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll

fetch ANY wart."

"Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?"

"No, but old Mother Hopkins told me."

"Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch."

"Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he

see she was a−witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night

he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm."

"Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a−witching him?"

"Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a−witching you.

Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards."

"Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?"

"To−night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to−night."

"But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?"

"Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight? −− and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh

around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon."

"I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?"

"Of course −− if you ain't afeard."

"Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?"

"Yes −− and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a−meowing around till old Hays

went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window −− but don't you

tell."

"I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say −− what's

that?"

"Nothing but a tick."

"Where'd you get him?"

"Out in the woods."

"What'll you take for him?"

"I don't know. I don't want to sell him."

"All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway."

"Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for

me."

"Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to."

"Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first

one I've seen this year."

"Say, Huck −− I'll give you my tooth for him."

The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer

Mark Twain 20

"Less see it."

Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very

strong. At last he said:

"Is it genuwyne?"

Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy.

"Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade."

Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion−cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys

separated, each feeling wealthier than before.

When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had

come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business −like alacrity.

[narniachronicles]

❝I wonder did we ever really meet before? I had a sort of idea—a sort of picture in my head—of a boy and a girl, like us—living somewhere quite different—and doing all sorts of things.❞

(insp)

[writingfool001]

Hmmmmm i heard that Ruggie & Leona are intimidated by the Sunset Savanna's ladies because they're stronger than them?

Maybe a headcanon/scenario for those two with f!s/o (you can change it to gn! if you're uncomfortable/against the rules), separately, because s/o is magicless, they think s/o is weak, s/o is sick with one of their joke (it contains an insult for s/o) and just kick them hard until they hurt so bad and says, "Watch your mouth." And leaves...

Watch It, Bud

Pairing: Leona x Reader, Ruggie x Reader

Reader can be any gender, depending on how you wanna read it.

While your lover is from the Savana where women are respected, he is still a pain in your ass sometimes. Since you can't use magic, you depend on your physical strength and Jack has experienced the full force of it. He never teased you, like Leona and Ruggie do, and wanted to spar with you during Vargas's class. He was amazed by your combat and tried warning him to not take the teasing too far, but do you expect either of them to listen.

.....

No. They don't.

One day, he decided to have the audacity to make a comment about you being a magicless weak individual who they need to constantly protect. You snap and send a semi powerful kick to their hip, sending them a distance before falling on their face.

Ruggie

You were going to help Ruggie with the chores Leona gave him, hoping to spend some time with him, and you arrive to see him with a couple other Savanaclaw students near the waterhole.

You decide to surprise him and as you approach him, you hear him say you were just weak little non magic user. You stood there as he was laughing and the other members just stared at you before moving aside, giving you a clear shot into the watering hole.

He was confused at where the other dorm kids went before you sparta kick him in, not giving a shit about the watching eyes.

Once he finally came back up, a mixture of confusion and anger before seeing you standing there, extremely pissed, before leaning down.

"Watch that tongue of yours or this weakling will make sure to use more force as a reminder."

You left as he climbed out, trying to tell you it was a joke, and watched from the doorway as you disappeared through the mirror.

Leona walked up next to him, watching you with Ruggie, before speaking.

"Yep, you fucked up. Smooth, Ruggie."

For a while, you ignored Ruggie throughout school, club hours, and any message he tried to send through Jack.

You told Jack that you would see Ruggie when you're ready to hear his apology. Once Jack told him, his ears dropped a bit and nodded.

Once you finally meet up with him, he immediately apologizes for everything he's done and that he'll never cross that line again.

You give him your own teasing insults back, which he knew he deserved it, and your experience whenever he did it. Once you forgive him, he immediately tackles you and showers you in kisses.

Leona

You two were leaving a dorm leader meeting, you made sure Malleus showed up to that one, and he made the comment as you two were walk a bit behind the others.

After he made the comment, you stop and wait for some distance before kicking him in his ass, avoiding his tail. He was sent flying and rolled passed the others, catching them off guard.

Once he finished being a rollie pollie, he turns and glares at you as you send a deadlier one right back as you approached him and leaned down to his level.

"Watch that silver tongue of yours before it gets you into trouble." You simply said before walking off, leaving everyone and him speechless.

"My, my, the Child of Man has some power." Malleus chuckled.

"You better apologize Leona, or else you may lose that potato to someone else." Vil advised as the dorm leaders walked away, leaving Leona by himself.

At this time, he thought back on what he said and how harshly he has been teasing you before realizing you put up with him being an ass. He grumbles to himself as he walks back to Savanaclaw.

For about a week, you ignore him and his half ass apologizes as you went about your day. He was asking Jack if you mentioned or talked about him that day, Jack only shrugged and told him to fix this himself.

He kidnaps you from Trein's class, ignoring Trein and everyone else's protests, and takes you to the botanical garden where he has your favorite meal and some gifts for you. He apologizes for him being a douchebag and for teasing you harshly.

You give him your side of this experience and told him some of your own teasing insults directed towards him before you forgive him.

He pulls you into his lap and lays down as you two spent the day together, which at that ppint Leona knew not to fuck with you.

[hb-writes]

Should’ve Known Better

Summary: It’s 1913 in the Little Lady Blinderverse and John’s up to his usual shenanigans where his little sister is concerned, only this time a simple bit of fun becomes more than the Shelbys bargained for. 

Characters: John Shelby and Clara Shelby

Content Warnings: angst, grief, guilt, illness

-- John had known from the second after he tossed his sister in the Cut, with her little head settling beneath the water’s surface for just a moment too long, and something had settled in him then. A little panic rose in his chest as he waited, the same panic that had risen in his own when Arthur had tossed their Ada in the very same canal about a decade before. 

All at once, John recognized the many ways that tossing a squealing Ada in the water had been a very different instance. 

Ada had been a little older than Clara then, at least a year older. And the summer sun had warmed the water a bit. And Tommy and John had already been in the water, ready to pull their sister up if she lingered too long below the surface, ready to show her how to swim, and she’d been eager for it, nearly begging Arthur to toss her between the feigned protesting.

Clara hadn’t been eager for it. She’d needed convincing and John’s unrelenting goading just to get her up to the water’s edge. That was normal, the extra bit of reassurance and convincing needed to step outside of expectations, to deviate from normal, to agree to nearly any of John’s schemes, especially those involving Polly’s sanctioned canal. That was Clara, a bit of extra caution paid to anything she hadn’t done before, anything someone had once directed her away from, especially if it was Polly or Tommy doing the directing. 

Too well-behaved for her own good, John frequently thought. 

It had ultimately been the fact that Finn had already learned to swim that had convinced her, that little bit of jealousy at her twin being further ahead in something earning John a cautious nod, a hesitant bit of consent as she slipped her hand in his.

But John should have known better.

He’d made too many assumptions about his little sister’s ability to swim, too many hasty comparisons to the Shelbys that had come before her, too much credence given to the fact that the girl was quick with most things—receptive and observant. 

And Finn had been a natural in the water, had jumped in without being pushed, sinking down for just a few seconds before coming up with a grin on his face, his arms already paddling and his legs kicking as he moved himself to the other side of the canal, already calling out to John for a race his stout legs could never win, but Clara and Finn weren’t the same kids. 

John knew that. He knew it and he should have known better. 

Like Ada, Finn had been tossed in the Cut in late August. It was now April, an unseasonably warm day where the sun had John out of his coat, his sleeves pushed up to the elbows, Clara running about in a thin summer dress, but it was still early Spring. The temperature of the water hadn’t had enough time to warm and match that of the air. 

John hadn’t realized how cold the water was until he jumped in after her, the chill on the bare patches of skin stinging like the pricks of a thousand hot needles as he reached through the murky water searching for a limb to tug Clara up to the surface. 

She came up coughing and sputtering, something for which John was grateful. He let out a relieved breath at that, assuming it meant they’d be alright. 

She’d be alright. 

And if it hadn’t been so damn cold, John would have made Clara stay in, would have made her give swimming a proper try, would have taught her how to kick her legs and paddle her arms, not allowing her out until she was swimming across by herself, good as her twin brother with it, good as anyone, but John’s body was already hurting, saturated with cold after only a few seconds so he pushed Clara out of the water and onto the edge of the Cut, pulling himself up beside her, half a laugh coming to his lips before he realized Clara was crying, hiccuping and gasping for breath.

John had reached for her then, tried to pull her to him, to soothe over his misstep, to step back into his position with her, the fun brother, the joking brother, full of smiles and laughs, but Clara had pushed and kicked him away and set herself up on her shaking legs, putting a distance between them, her body shivering and teeth chattering as she stood a distance away from him, muttering about wanting to go home through the tears on her face that John couldn’t distinguish from the residual wetness from her trip into the canal. 

She’d been immune to his apologies, blocking him and his words out of her mind and heart from then, and throughout their walk home, her silence and indifference to him standing until now. It had been on purpose at first, a calculated move, an individually selected strategy employed to silently communicate the hurt he’d caused to her...

They’d gotten home and Clara had gone straight to her room. John had gone back to his own house to change out of his wet clothes, assuming he’d come back to the shop and be met by a mob of angry Shelbys—by Polly who’d threaten, and maybe follow through with, skinning him for messing around in the Cut, by Tommy because Tommy was always a step too plussed by anyone making their Clara upset, quick to defend and protect and step in where their youngest sister was concerned. He imagined they’d all have something to say about it, even little Finn who usually gained an extra bit of self-righteousness where his twin’s tears were concerned, but John had come back and everyone had acted like it was a normal day, a normal Good Friday, and he’d been grateful for that, grateful that his sister hadn’t made a fuss or that there’d been no one available for her to fuss too, saving him an earful, saving him a smack upside the back of the head, just a normal day.

John should have known better, should’ve followed up to be sure, but the shop was busy and as soon as he was through the door, he was caught up in the bets and the races, his mind set to the odds and the books, their morning excursion quickly forgotten and John didn’t spare a thought to his disgruntled little sister until he closed the shop doors several hours later, collapsing at the table where Finn was playing with some old toy, a little wooden horse that had once been his, and Tommy’s and Arthur’s before that. 

“Where’s your sister?” John asked, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, rallying himself to go on home after a long day, back to his wife and the babies. 

Finn shrugged as he moved from chair to chair, making the horse gallop along the table’s edge, traveling up John’s arm and across the top of his head before coming down the other side and going round again. 

“Both have been up in their rooms all day,” Polly said as she stepped out of the kitchen. “Are you responsible for either?”

John rolled his eyes as Finn’s horse clomped over his left ear. “Well, Ada never needs a reason, does she?”

Polly sighed, wiping her hands on the apron tied at her waist. “And what about the other one?” 

John met Polly’s eye for a moment before pushing his chair back and moving up the stairs toward the twins’ bedroom without a word, just a deep breath, a sarcastic ‘thank you’ sent his way from Polly after he’d hit the fifth step.

John had barely left the room since then because the sister he’d come across holed up in her bedroom wasn’t the disgruntled girl he was expecting. She wasn’t holed up in her room keen on avoiding him, arms tucked tightly across her chest, a cold expectant stare she was learning from their aunt sent his way.

She wasn’t quite anything John could set a word to other than unwell, with discolored skin and hazy eyes blinking at him but not seeing, unfocused from her spot on the bed, with skin so hot that John promptly pulled his hand back from her head, stepping right back out the door and called out for Polly who’d then promptly called for the doctor who had given Clara something, some mixture from the chemist, something they’d had to force down between her lips, but other than that, the doctor had said nothing. No prognosis. No other intervention. He’d instructed them to simply wait. 

Polly had tried to send John home to his wife and kids, had tried soothing him, but John hadn’t been willing to have it, pushing her touch on his shoulder away even though he craved it, the comfort. And he’d barely acknowledged Martha when she’d come, barely accepted the kiss she’d placed on his temple, barely listened as his wife spoke to Polly just outside the door, his wife quietly saying that John wouldn’t be moved, saying that it was best to just let him be, to just let him sit with Clara. 

So they let John be, joining him in the vigil on and off, Tommy there by his side most often, the both of them quiet, a calm that wasn’t at all comforting settling between the three of them, a calm that acknowledged something no one was saying, something that the same doctor who’d tended to their mother after the twins’ birth hadn’t said, that Clara’s way forward was rather uncertain, out of his hands, out of anyone’s hands.

And John couldn’t help but think it was his hands that had put them here, put his sister here, laid up in a bed, barely a shell of who she was. It was his hands that had put Clara in harm’s way all for some careless fun, in the name of goofing off, in the name of getting a rise out of her. 

He couldn’t get a rise out of her if he’d tried now, the planned ignoring she’d been giving him effortlessly slipping into something more sinister, his pleas and apologies going unanswered, unheard. 

John was used to his words falling on deaf ears, used to speaking and feeling as if his words would receive a better reception if they were directed at a bit of exposed brick in the shop, used to voicing his opinions only to have them shot down or ignored by Tommy, discounted by Pol, laughed at by Ada. 

He was used to shushing his babies, used to humming and singing and soothing to bring about a bit of quiet only to be met with unrelenting tears. 

He was used to shouting after his oldest two kids now, no clear evidence that they even heard their father since they often went right on with whatever trouble John had been trying to deter without paying their father a single thought. 

But Clara usually listened to John’s words, even when John wished she hadn’t been listening, even when she shouldn’t have been listening, even when she was giving him the silent treatment. And the kid didn’t always like John’s words. She often argued with him, offering a string of ‘but so and so said’ and ‘nuh-uh, John’ but she still listened anyway, carefully considered her older brother’s words, dutifully considered him, observed more than his words, saw more than was right for a kid to see and understand at her age.

Clara wasn’t doing any of that now though, not seeing or listening or considering. She was just quiet and the eeriness had John wishing for an argument, wishing for her to tell him all of the ways he was wrong, to give him a laundry list of things Tommy and Polly and Arthur and Ada and Uncle Charlie had told her.

But John was half grateful for the stillness that had come over his sister now even if it unsettled him, her current state not quite in line with the person who he’d come to know her as. Even if she was typically quiet, typically better at keeping still than any of the rest of them, more outwardly calm. Something about it wasn’t their Clara, but the unnerving stillness was easier to watch than the delirium of fever had been, easier than seeing her struggling breaths, the relentless wheezing, the shaking chills, and mumbled nonsensical words. 

John dropped his hold on Clara’s limp fingers and pushed his head into his palms, a sob breaking his lips. 

“I should have known better,” John whispered, finally voicing the words he’d been thinking for a few days now, the sentiment chanting over and over in his mind finally spilling out, set out into the world with a breaking voice and hot tears burning his face. 

John would have done anything, would have welcomed any punishment, endured whatever he needed to take the pain away, whatever would allow Clara to come out of this alright, back to her old self, even if she never spoke to him again, never listened or agreed to another of his schemes. Whatever it was, John would gladly...

“I’ll do any—”

John stopped himself short before finishing the sentiment, a part of him knowing there was nothing that could take it away, nothing he could do to take it back, believing in his aching heart that the pain he felt at seeing Clara, the pain of not knowing was his penance. 

He’d earned this. 

It was what he deserved for not knowing better. 

--

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Little Lady Blinder (Peaky Blinders) Masterlist

[oddshelbyout]

A Little Too Fond Of Him // Thomas Shelby X Fem!Reader

Requested by: @accioholland

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy

Summary: You go out for a drink after a bad day and sit down with Tommy to have a conversation but you’re too distracted by his eyes.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1725

Author’s Notes:

I really love this request because I love writing soft Tommy and also best friends to lovers. I’m sorry if Tommy is a little out of character, I just wanted him to be softer around Y/N.

English is not my first language and I’m not always confident about my work so please let me know if I make any mistakes or anything I can fix in my writing.

You can ask to be added to my taglist. You can be tagged to works on a specific character or just any of my works. Please dm me or send your wish to my ask box if you’d like to be added.

Requests are open. You can request any Peaky Blinders related imagines or prompts for me to write. I’m a minor so I don’t take NSFW requests, please keep that in mind.

———————

It had been a long day. Being a teacher had it perks but you hadn’t come across to any of them that day. The children gave you a really hard time and you were extremely tired. You really needed a drink.

You went home first. You had to change your boring teacher clothes to your usual ones. You always cared if you looked good. You didn’t want to go out for a drink looking like an old lady.

Left home and made your way to the Garrison. You hoped Tommy, your best friend would be there because you hadn’t seen him for a while.

When you stepped into the pub, you noticed it was more crowded than usual. You wondered what was the occasion but also didn’t care enough to ask.

You walked to the bar, asked for a double scotch. Tommy always tried to make you drink irish whiskey and you were now just drinking scotch to annoy him even when he wasn’t around.

“Tommy’s in the booth if you’d like to say hello.” the bartender said as he put the glass in front of you. You smiled, you were happy that you could whine to him about your students. “Thanks.” you grabbed the glass and headed to the booth.

You opened the door seeing Tommy sit there with Finn and John but he wasn’t talking. He was just there watching his two younger brothers discuss something that himself wasn’t clearly interested in.

“So here are the Shelby boys, long time no see.” you said and their eyes turned on you. You closed the door behind you and stepped in.

“Y/N! Good to see you.” John said, he was always happy to see you. Finn just waved at you without saying a word.

“Out on a school night?” Tommy said before he took a drag from his cigarette. You shook your head and giggled.

“I don’t have any restrictions about that, unlike Finn.” your gaze fell on the youngest. He looked so annoyed, “I wouldn’t either if Tommy let me drop out.” he mumbled.

John patted on Finn’s shoulder, “Patience brother, patience.” he said and you saw a slight smile sit on Tommy’s face.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Tommy asked you and pushed the chair beside him so you can sit easily. You put your glass on the table first and then sat on the wooden chair.

“You seem a bit upset.” Tommy said to you, you licked your lips. “It’s okay, just a bad day.” you explained but he didn’t seem to be satisfied with your reply.

John and Finn saw that Tommy’s whole attention was on you so they excused themselves and said goodbye. You were now alone in the booth with Tommy and he seemed to be determined to know what was bothering you.

“I’m not convinced that’s just it.” he mumbled, you didn’t like when he was persuasive to get you talking but this time you actually wanted to tell.

“The kids barely listen to me, maybe it’s because I’m younger and not a bitchy old lady who’s only personality trait is being authoritarian.” you said in one breath and Tommy chuckled. That was rare but it made you smile even though what you were saying was pissing you off.

“You may be a bit too nice.” he said, you rolled your eyes. “Come on Tommy, I just don’t want to traumatise them.” you explained, he knew exactly what you meant.

“I’m not saying you have to be a bitchy old lady, just be a little more strict.” he said, you sighed. “I’m not like you Tom, I’m not good at not being nice.” you took a sip from your drink.

“Thank God for that.” he said and you smiled. He’d always said that his favourite thing about you was that you were too nice for your own good. At times it had bad consequences but being nice wasn’t something bad.

“I see you’re still drinking scotch.” Tommy said with his eyebrows raised. “I can’t believe you can distinguish whisky from the colour.” with your words his arms were up like he was guilty.

He looked tired but not like the usual, he just looked like he was fed up with something otherwise he wouldn’t try to keep the conversation on you if you stated you didn’t want that.

“Now tell me, what’s up with you?” you just had to ask. “Nothing.” he denied and lit up another cigarette. “There’s no way I’ll let you get away with not telling me.” you said directly, he sighed.

“It’s Finn.” he said, your eyes were fixated on his lips, so full and red. You always loved to examine his features while he spoke to you.

“I feel like I know where this is going.” you said and he sighed again. Your gaze drifted to his eyes. Oh his eyes, they were the most beautiful you’ve seen. They were such a light blue that you couldn’t believe how they could be real.

“He’s trying so hard to be like me.” he complained, he clenched his jaw. You didn’t respond, your mind was only working on how beautiful his eyes were at that moment.

“He’s only 16, he should do as I say not as I do.” he continued his rant. You were too distracted by his eyes, your impression went blank but the corners of your lips were still a little curled.

“I told him no guns and he went to steal one from Polly.” you weren’t hearing him. His eyes had mesmerized you once again. His blue eyes were blinding your eyes.

“I only want him to go to school so he doesn’t end up like me.” he said. He wanted his youngest brother to have a better future. You just nodded but not at what he said, you weren’t hearing him. You were nodding to your inside voice saying the shade of his eyes were just like the sky.

“Oi!” Tommy called and now you were back to the real world. “Huh?” you said coming back to realise he was telling you what was bothering you the whole time. You felt like a fool.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?” he asked, he was so annoyed. You licked your lips in shame. “Honestly, no.” you admitted. “You’re gonna make me tell it all again, right?” he asked, so you only sadly nodded.

He told it all once again, you had all your attention on him this time but you were still examining his individual features. How his cheeks blushed when he started to get angry.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, you blinked in surprise. “Just appreciating your eyes.” you blurted out, only to realise what you said afterwards.

Tommy froze, his lips parted. “My eyes?” he asked and you pushed your lips together, you were embarrassed. There was no going back after this.

“Your eyes are just so pretty, they distract me.” you explained hoping he wouldn’t be weirded out by that. “You think my eyes are pretty.” he said softly, his lips curled up a bit.

“Yes.” you simply answered, you were so nervous about what he would say afterwards. “I think your eyes are pretty too.” he said and your jaw dropped. That was definitely not what you expected.

“My eyes are mediocre.” you said, your eyes were nowhere close to how beautiful his eyes were. “I think mine are too.” his voice was still soft, it wasn’t what you were used to.

“No, yours are extraordinary.” he couldn’t hold himself back and chuckled. You hadn’t seen him chuckle like that with a big smile in so long that you couldn’t believe it. He was actually happy that you said that and was definitely not weirded out.

“Extraordinary.” he repeated what you just said, his smile didn’t fade. Your one hand was sitting on the table and he moved his hand to yours. You felt your stomach twirl, it didn’t feel as good as you thought it would.

“Yes.” you were out of words to say. “What does it mean Y/L/N?” him calling you by your last name was nothing new but it felt different at that moment with the tone he said it with.

“You tell me.” you just really didn’t know where this was going and it scared you. “Maybe you’re a little too fond of me.” you held your breath, what he said wasn’t so easy to process. Were you in love with your best friend? No, that couldn’t be it or could it?

“No.” you simply replied, “Then why are you looking at me like that, telling me my eyes are extraordinary.” your wind was working so slowly. You had no idea how to respond to that.

“Okay, I might be a little too fond of you.” you admitted, you had no other choice. “So you finally realised.” he said and your eyes popped out of its place.

“What?” you blurted out, “I’ve been waiting for you to realise so I could ask you out.” he said. You jumped out of your seat, “What the fuck Tommy?” you shouted.

“You’re not as smart as you think.” you said before giving him a chance to speak, “Why did you have to wait for me? You didn’t wait for any other girl!” you weren’t angry but you were just so annoyed.

“You’re not some other girl.” he said and licked his lips. “I needed to be sure our friendship wouldn’t go to waste.” you took a deep breath, “Oh.” you could reply with only that.

“So you liked me all this time and didn’t say a word and also fucked around as much as you could?” you asked, he nodded, he obviously didn’t know how to reply

You sat back down on the chair and put your hand on the table again. This time he didn’t only get his hand closer to yours but held it. His cold hand gave you chills.

You didn’t even realise how much you were attracted to him and just in a blink you were going on a date. It was far from what you expected for the night, all you wanted was a drink after a tough day. You still were happy with the result and Tommy seemed to be too.

[demigodofhoolemere]

I’m reading The Magician’s Nephew for the first time (excluding that time many years ago where I started it and only read several pages lol), I’m about halfway through and my thoughts so far are

- First and foremost oh my goodness I miss Narnia so much, how did I wait this long to read this

- I love Digory and Polly as individuals and as cute bickering friends. Their personalities are great, I love when it’s written what they’re thinking during whatever’s going on, I love the silly back and forth of kids who both don’t know what’s going on but are both determined to be more right than the other.

- The way Lewis narrates is the best, I’d forgotten what it was like since I read LWW so darn long ago. I love how he’ll describe things or people’s thoughts or casually mention what they’ll think years later or just amusingly skip over something. My favorite thing: “And Polly gave him a pretty sharp answer and he said something even nastier in reply. The quarrel lasted for several minutes but it would be dull to write it all down.”

- Atlantis is real apparently. Cool.

- Spent the whole time they were setting up the Queen waiting for the name so I could know I was right about what I was picturing lol. And goodness gracious, she’s cold! She’s like, ‘yeah I killed literally everyone, why are you acting like it matters?’ Like okay lady you can apparently still shock me. All these years watching the movie and this was your backstory the whole time and I never knew it. Yikes.

- Somehow even though I knew Digory was the magician’s nephew I never really thought about the fact that there must be a magician uncle playing some kind of role lol. Uncle Andrew is honestly a bit terrifying. His indignant disinterest in any ethical arguments against any decision he wants to make doesn’t feel very dissimilar to Jadis.

- I’m not even at the technical creation of Narnia itself yet but even just thinking about Digory one day getting to talk to the Pevensies about this magical land he’s had to keep secret from everyone but Polly and learning that Jadis is gone and hearing their many tales from their time as kings and queens is making me very emotional.

[devilsrecreation]

My dudes (and ladies!)....my Discord pals are a couple of geniuses

Individual ship names for my ot3:

Polly x Clueless: Moonshine

They’re both pirates and played bartenders and moonshine is an illegal drink

Polly x Monty: Feeling Crabby and in Love (I know Polly’s not a crab, but he is kinda grumpy)

Clueless x Monty: Can’t kelp falling in love with you

Cuz Monty’s a seaweed monster and seaweed is a type of grass and since he and Clueless are in love.....