the willows story

Author when is the second book comin ? the hitted up conversation of Edward Jones and Emily willows.. am so curious and really wanna know how it all ends. looking forward

This is one of the best and most satisfying harry potter fan fiction I have ever had the pleasure to read. It is also the only one which has a mughe for an MC. And the dragon, ice and walking willows,etc experiments are completely hilarious. Sometimes I just visit the first 10 chapters to read his interaction with Snape and Malfoy so that I can have a good laugh.

Maybe it’s because I can’t even get past the first 3 chapters, but the mc is super cringe, dumb and utterly impossible to like. Jacques had ruined Willows life and Jack walks in and says to her face that they should just start over like nothing ever happened. Obviously willow is just a stupid npc who will do whatever he wants, and then give him a harem as well right? I just don’t see this even being a story from here on out without massive plot armor to allow things to progress without the mc ruining things even more. The upside to this story is that the grammar is very good and as others have mentioned, it’s refreshing on a site filled with Mtl slop. Sadly for me, the actual story and characters are way more important to my enjoyment of a novel than grammar that can just be reinterpreted to make sense after having read mtl slop for many years. This is absolutely a negatively biased review based on only the first 3 chapters, so if you are enjoying the story afterwards I am not able to comment if it is good or not from then on.

WHO rides there so late through the night dark and drear? The father it is, with his infant so dear; He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm, He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm. "My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?" "Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side! Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?" "My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain." "Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me! Full many a game I will play there with thee; On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold, My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold." "My father, my father, and dost thou not hear The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?" "Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives; 'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves." "Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there? My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care My daughters by night their glad festival keep, They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep." "My father, my father, and dost thou not see, How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?" "My darling, my darling, I see it aright, 'Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight." "I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy! And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ." "My father, my father, he seizes me fast, Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last." The father now gallops, with terror half wild, He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child; He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,-- The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead... Who rides so late where winds blow wild? It is the father grasping his child; He holds the boy embraced in his arm He clasps him snugly, he keeps him warm. "My son, why cover your face in such fear?" "O don't you see the Erl King near? The Erl King with his crown and train!" "My son, the mist is on the plain." "Sweet lad, o come and join me, do! Such pretty games I'll play with you; On the shore gay flowers their colors unfold My mother has made you a garment of gold." "My father, my father, o can you not hear The promise the Erl King breathes in my ear?" "Be calm, stay calm my child, lie low In withered leaves the night winds blow." "Will you, sweet lad, come along with me? My daughters shall care for you tenderly; In the night my daughters their revelry keep, They'll rock you and dance you and sing you to sleep." "My father, my father, o can you not trace The Erl King's daughters in that gloomy place?" "My son, my son, I see it clear How grey the ancient willows appear." "I love you, your comeliness charms me, my boy And if you're not willing, then force I'll employ!" "Now father, o father, he's seizing my arm The Erl King has done me the cruelest harm!" The father shudders, his ride is wild In his arms he's holding the shivering child He reaches home with toil and dread. In his arms, the child was dead. Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

For the sake of the author's icons =))) From the unknown to the famous, To fight which years are not free, There are twenty million of us, Killed, not returned from the war. No, we have not disappeared in the pitch smoke, Where the path, as to the top, was not straight. We also left our wives young, And the boys got rid of their mothers. And on Victory Day we descend from the pedestals, And in the windows the light did not go out, We are all from the rank and file to the generals We are invisible among you. There is a sad day for the war, And on that day you are drunk with joy. The bell rang above us, And the rumble of the wedding is pouring from the height. We have not forgotten ourselves for centuries, And every time at the Eternal Flame You have a duty to consult us, As if in thought of the head, the clone. And may not care leave you Know the will of those who did not return from the war, And before rewarding someone And before the condemnation of guilt. All that we defended in the trenches Il returned, rushing into a breakthrough, To protect and protect you bequeathed, The only life putting. As on medals, after us cast, We all are equal to the Fatherland There are twenty million of us, Killed, not returned from the war. Where in the clouds a rock scar is gaping, At any hour from the sun to the moon The bell rang above us. And the rumble of the wedding is pouring from the height. And although the military enlistment offices wrote off, But the enemy will have to take into account, That the dead soldiers will go to battle, too, When the living alarm calls. Be repellent, adov godina. But we are ready on the front line, Resurrected,                once again perish to one, So that no one alive will die there. And you should, worrying about many things, Before the evil, not stepping back, On our untainted conscience Worthy to hold the equal. Live long, live righteously, Aspiring the whole world to the fellowship                                      count, And neither of the nations blaspheme, Keeping his own honor at the zenith. What names are not on the tombstones! All their tribes were left by their sons. There are twenty million of us, Killed, not returned from the war. Falling stars flicker call alarm, And the branches of willows are weeping. The bell rang above us, And the rumble of the wedding is pouring from the height.