Tea, Drabbles, Porn
Have some drabbles (each exactly 100 words, because I am anal-retentive)!
Sometimes Alice watches him, wonderingly, as he does something that she’s always taken for granted but that is new and exciting to him, and she wants to run. The adoring smile he flashes her, the bright eyes that telegraph exactly what he’s thinking, the hand on her hip, or her shoulder, or holding hers…sometimes she just can’t stand it. She has to get up, move around, go for a walk, do something.
She wasn’t lying, she does trust him completely. Which is why she’s waiting for her opportunity to screw this up. It isn’t Hatter that she distrusts, it’s herself.
Mad March remembers being just March. He remembers tea, and suits, and oysters, and gold rings on his fingers, and making menacing threats with a smart mouth at his side.
He remembers emotions even if he doesn’t quite feel them anymore, though like all Wonderlanders’ they’re slightly muted without the tea; friendship, greed, and anger, and betrayal. And he remembers hatred. He hates the Queen of Hearts for all she has done to him; making him a mercenary, making him a killer, making him this thing that he has become.
But he hates Hatter still more, so he remembers revenge.
Hatter isn’t good at getting comfortable. He’s spent years living precariously perched in Wonderland, so he has backups.
He arrives wearing his rings and with jewelry under his hat. He lives ‘like a bachelor’, as Alice puts it; a sparsely furnished apartment that rarely has food in the refrigerator.
But Alice doesn’t know about the jewelry in the toilet tank, or in the flour. Or the five and ten and twenty dollar bills scattered about under dishes and between sofa cushions. He knows, somewhere inside, that it’s not necessary anymore, but it’s the only way he knows to feel safe.
Once Upon a Time, a girl fell through a magic mirror, had an adventure, met a part-time criminal with a penchant for headgear, and they lived Happily Ever After.
No story, Hatter reflected, children’s or otherwise, ever went that way. In the stories, the clever girl who’d overcome dragons or nasty stepmothers or what-have-you was always rewarded with a Prince to marry and lived in luxury with nary a con man to be found.
He froze as he caught sight of her, hugging Jack Heart tightly, smiling contentedly. He nodded to himself and turned away; it’s how the story goes.
Also, I keep working on pron for this fandom. It's a little odd as I've never felt the desperate urge to write hella-sexin' before. You go Alice and Hatter.
Sometimes Alice watches him, wonderingly, as he does something that she’s always taken for granted but that is new and exciting to him, and she wants to run. The adoring smile he flashes her, the bright eyes that telegraph exactly what he’s thinking, the hand on her hip, or her shoulder, or holding hers…sometimes she just can’t stand it. She has to get up, move around, go for a walk, do something.
She wasn’t lying, she does trust him completely. Which is why she’s waiting for her opportunity to screw this up. It isn’t Hatter that she distrusts, it’s herself.
Mad March remembers being just March. He remembers tea, and suits, and oysters, and gold rings on his fingers, and making menacing threats with a smart mouth at his side.
He remembers emotions even if he doesn’t quite feel them anymore, though like all Wonderlanders’ they’re slightly muted without the tea; friendship, greed, and anger, and betrayal. And he remembers hatred. He hates the Queen of Hearts for all she has done to him; making him a mercenary, making him a killer, making him this thing that he has become.
But he hates Hatter still more, so he remembers revenge.
Hatter isn’t good at getting comfortable. He’s spent years living precariously perched in Wonderland, so he has backups.
He arrives wearing his rings and with jewelry under his hat. He lives ‘like a bachelor’, as Alice puts it; a sparsely furnished apartment that rarely has food in the refrigerator.
But Alice doesn’t know about the jewelry in the toilet tank, or in the flour. Or the five and ten and twenty dollar bills scattered about under dishes and between sofa cushions. He knows, somewhere inside, that it’s not necessary anymore, but it’s the only way he knows to feel safe.
Once Upon a Time, a girl fell through a magic mirror, had an adventure, met a part-time criminal with a penchant for headgear, and they lived Happily Ever After.
No story, Hatter reflected, children’s or otherwise, ever went that way. In the stories, the clever girl who’d overcome dragons or nasty stepmothers or what-have-you was always rewarded with a Prince to marry and lived in luxury with nary a con man to be found.
He froze as he caught sight of her, hugging Jack Heart tightly, smiling contentedly. He nodded to himself and turned away; it’s how the story goes.
Also, I keep working on pron for this fandom. It's a little odd as I've never felt the desperate urge to write hella-sexin' before. You go Alice and Hatter.