Old hag by *veprikov
Being a witch is not the highest paid job in the world.
I JUST FOUND THIS PICTURE AND I’M GOING TO CRY WHY THIS
I JUST WANT HER TO GET HER PRETTY PURPLE HAT AND BE HAPPY
I would kill for a companion piece to this, where she gets her hat..
no seriously why hasn’t any replied to this image with a picture of her in the pretty hat c’mon tumblr please
she bought the toad a pretty hat but not herself
;-; i’ll buy you the hat. don’t be sad *sobs*
#YOU JUST /BROKE/ MY FUCKING HEART WHAT THE FUCK #I WANT FIC I WANT MORE ART I WANT HER TO BE HAPPY I MIGHT ACTUALLY CRY #WHAT THE FUCK #I SUDDENLY AM IN PAIN BC OF HOW MUCH I CARE ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL WITCH FUCK YOU #ART
Someone give her the hat, please. D:
Here you go. She got her hat as a gift from a lovely gentleman. :) Hope you all are happy now.
tohdaryl is the only saint that heard the cries of tumblr
You’ve served this country well
The whispers grew louder as she walked through the square.
"Walk on this side, Bobby, stay away from her."
"Don’t get close to that old hag, she’s crazy."
"I heard she goes around claiming to be a witch."
"She even carries that slimy fat frog everywhere. What a psycho."
Day after day she had to put up with the sharp words whispered around her.
Every day the long walk home from the little organic herb shop she owned was punctuated by poisoned murmurs and disdainful looks.
The one little bright spot of her day, the little joy she was afforded, came in the form of a hat shop just a few minutes from her shop.
She would pass by in the mornings and evenings to and from her store, and she would always take a few moments to pause and look at the beautiful hats Sophie crafted.
Sophie, a kind young woman, never minded that she stopped in front of her store, and even invited her in.
But with a shake of her head, a refusal was always given. Sophie was a nice girl, and it didn’t matter to her that an old woman with a fat toad came to admire her hats.
In fact, she had invited the two of them in numerous times, offering a spot of tea and a plate of biscuits.
But a refusal was always quickly given, and with a sad shake of her head and a little smile, the woman so obviously ostracized by the rest of the town would hobble away quickly, the tip of her worn hat flapping atop her head.
This evening, however, a strange young man was also standing in front of Sophie’s hat shop.
He turned and saw her, clutching tightly to her toad, and with her threadbare cloak around her shoulders, and shot her a smile.
"It’s a beautiful hat, isn’t it?" He nodded towards the display.
She stood next to him and her breath whooshed out of her.
"Oh, it’s exquisite." she murmured.
A beautiful purple hat, much in the style of her own, was sitting in the display window. It had beautiful satin ribbons tied about it, a carefully arranged ribbon flower on the side, and little silver chains tastefully places over the brim. Oh, it was gorgeous. And it was expensive.
Nevertheless, she longed to hold it in her hands, to feel the softness of the fabric underneath her fingers. Her heart hurt just looking at it, knowing she’d never be able to afford it.
Truly, she felt blessed just being able to look at it through a rain-stained pane of glass.
She hadn’t even noticed that she had started to reach out for it, when the man placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Please, don’t go anywhere. I’ll just be a moment."
With that, he disappeared into Sophie’s shop, a smile on his face.
A few moments later she saw Markl, Sophie’s young assistant, pulling the hat from its stand, a young woman dressed in what was no doubt fashion’s latest and most expensive trends standing behind him, talking animatedly.
Markl and the young woman moved away then, no doubt to ring up the young lady’s latest acquisition, and the old woman sighed.
‘That’s the end of it then. But it’s good that Sophie’s hats are selling so well. And that was her greatest creation yet.’
She moved to walk away then, and was surprised by the young woman, who burst out of Sophie’s shop, followed by an entourage of giggling young girls, each carrying a hatbox.
"Oh, what a simply beautiful little store," she exclaimed to her friends, “The hats that Sophie designs are darling, and we must come back another time.”
With that, she and her friends strolled past the old woman, too engrossed in their conversation of hats to notice the thin, bedraggled figure beside them.
Again she sighed, used to being ignored, and pulled her cloak tighter around her skinny shoulders, beginning her walk home anew.
And one again she was startled into stopping, as the young man stepped out of Sophie’s shop, holding something awkwardly behind his back as he fairly beamed at her.
"Now it took some convincing to get Sophie to let me get this, because she told me she had a specific person in mind to give it to. In fact, she had made it with this person in mind. It seemed she had intended to give it to someone as a gift, and had accidentally put it up on display. But it seemed odd to me that she should just give it away, especially being as beautiful as it is, without getting anything in return. So I promised I’d give it to the intended recipient if she allowed me to purchase it."
The old woman, not fully understanding what the young man was going off about, nodded blindly, confused as to why he was talking so animatedly to her.
"That being said," he continued, “I do hope you like it."
He whipped the hatbox around from behind his back and held it in front of her, and grinned as her eyes widened.
"I-is this… Is this for me?" she murmured in confusion, glancing up at him.
"Open it," he said, nodding towards the box.
"But I can’t-"
"Nonsense," he laughed, “You can, and you most certainly will. Now please, open the box."
Gingerly taking off the lid, she smoothed the paper wrapping out of the way, and let out a breath she hadn’t been holding.
Nestled within the plain brown hatbox was the beautiful purple hat she had been admiring just minutes earlier.
"But I don’t understand. How can this be for me?" she murmured in wonder.
"Sophie made this with you in mind," he said, gesturing towards the hat.
"Now I believe that this," he gently lifted her worn hat off her head and held it under the hat box, “Is mine, and this," he plucked the beautiful hat from its place in the hatbox and settled it atop her head, “is yours."
Sophie came out of the shop then, and smiled at her.
"Do you like it?" she asked, her hands clasped in front of her. “I made it for you, and I really do hope you like it."
"Oh, I love it," was the reply, “It’s absolutely beautiful, but I can’t-"
"You can and you will," the young man told her sternly. “I already I told you that I’d paid for that hat, and now it’s yours."
Sophie moved forward and held the old woman’s hands in her own.
"Please take the hat," she implored, “I did make it for you, and I would love it if you accepted it. And please, do come in for tea tomorrow. Both you and your adorable toad friend."
And as she adjusted the new hat atop her head, she nodded, allowing a smile to cross her face.
"Thank-you," she whispered. “I think I will."
I think this is my favorite piece of fanfiction ever.