#fond memories of all the people I fooled with drew though. I was (am?) so intense about him some users thought he was a main character

[itstimetodrew]

It's so cruel when you wanna share your favorite character with people but they're in seasons 4-7 out of a 12 season show and their best scene is twenty seconds long that makes no sense out of context

[smarchit]

Poetry for an Heiress, Chapter 8

Word Count: 4k

Summary: When a duchess and her children are abandoned far from home, they must rely on the kindness of one stranger to guide them home.

Warnings: Slight allusions to smut, mild violence (no blood/gore)

The next morning, you awoke long after the sun began to stream through the slatted shutters of the inn. You felt warm and safe and happier than you'd felt in months. You hadn't felt so relaxed and refreshed in years, the more you thought about it. It was perfect. You stretched your legs beneath the sheets and groaned in pleasure at the feeling.

"Now there is one of the most angelic sounds I've ever heard," Ezra murmured beside you. You cracked open one eye to look at him. He was laying on his side, propped up on his elbow, watching you with a serene expression.  The thin gray sheet covered him below the waist and you rolled over to look at him properly. 

You ran a hand through his disheveled hair and cupped his cheek in your palm. "Good morning, Ez," you mumbled sleepily. You shifted closer to him under the sheets and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

"Sleep well, Princess?" he asked, nudging his nose against yours. 

"I haven't slept that well in so long," you admitted with a smile. You drew up the blanket over your chest and nuzzled against his arm. 

"Nor have I," he said. "I am usually plagued by vivid nightmares and have to relive horrors no man should bear witness to in his lifetime. It's why I tear through novels like they are simple children's stories. Better to keep the mind occupied with fantasy than to face reality."

You frowned and traced his lips and the contour of his sharp nose with your fingers. "You of all people should know it does not do well to bury your head in the sand. It can be dangerous."

"If I fell asleep to your touch every night and awoke to this every morning," Ezra hummed, "I doubt I would ever have trouble sleeping again."

"Perhaps only for one reason," you replied with a grin as you leaned up to kiss him.

Just as Ezra leaned down to meet your lips with a smirk, there was an excited pounding at the door. The two of you broke away almost instantly.

"Mama!" Marie cried from the other side of the door. "Mama, wake up!"

Ezra looked over his shoulder and chuckled before dropping his head to your breast and placing a single kiss there. "Perfect timing," he groaned as he slid out of bed. He grabbed his pants and yanked them on before he tossed you his sweater from the day before.

"As always," you chuckled. You pulled on the sweater and tidied your hair as best you could. 

Marie's incessant knocking continued until Ezra pulled open the door. 

"Mama!" Marie squealed as she clambered up onto the bed. "Mama! We're going back to see grandmother, aren't we?" She squished your face between her hands and pressed her nose to yours.

With a laugh, you gently pried her hands from your face and nodded. "Yes, my little bug. We are going to see her today."

"And we can introduce her to Mr. Ezra, can't we?" Marie snuggled against you and turned in your lap to look at Ezra as he pulled on a threadbare t-shirt. 

"That's only if Mr. Ezra wants to," you reminded her gently. "And if he has the time. He is more than welcome, though."

Ezra chuckled and nodded. "We shall see if my busy schedule allows for it, little bird. For now though, what would you and your brothers say to some breakfast?"

Marie gasped and nodded as she clapped her hands excitedly. "Breakfast! Yes, please!"

"Go wake your lazy bones brothers up," he said, holding the door open for her. "Dressed and clean, the lot of you!"

You drew your legs up beneath the blankets as Ezra shut the door behind her. Ezra's tone was very paternal towards your children and you couldn't help but smile at the feeling that stirred inside you.

"You're so good with them," you said softly when he looked at you with a puzzled expression. "The children simply adore you. That's plain enough for anyone to see."

He smiled and picked a dress out of the backpack for you. "I would have to be a fool to not see it, Princess. Here, this dress is one of my favorites, I'd like to see it on you one last time."

You bit your lip and brushed your hand against his when he handed it to you. "Ez, I---"

"A short, sweet goodbye," he said, bringing your hand to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss there before letting it fall to your lap. "It will be best for all of us."

You brushed the tears away and looked down at the dress he had handed you. It was the dress you wore the first full day on the little farm. Soft, cream colored cotton with a pale pink floral pattern. It barely brushed against your calves and the lace trim at the bottom hem had become tattered and tickled the back of your legs when you walked.

Ezra smiled sadly and watched you for a moment from the washroom door before he shut it behind him. 

You waited until you heard the water running before you climbed out of bed to change. Something caught your attention in the pocket after you smoothed down the front and you reached in and pulled out a flat gray stone. The surface was smooth and cool under your fingers. It was from the day you'd all gotten up before dawn to hike to a nearby lake. Ezra had taught the children how to skip stones across the surface of the water. You sat on the edge of the bed and held it in your palms until it grew warm to the touch, trying to hold onto the memory of that day.

The bedroom door opened with a bang and the children entered, all asking a million questions at the same time. Henry climbed into your lap as you slid the stone back into your pocket. He yawned widely and then grinned at you.

"Mama, guess what!" he asked, bouncing on your legs. Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "I lost another tooth!"

"Oh, darling, that's wonderful!" you exclaimed. "How many have you lost so far? Four?"

"Three," Aiden chirped from beside you. "I lost four."

"Ah, yes," you chuckled, squeezing Henry tightly. "Now I remember that. Well, give it here, I will make sure I hold on tight to it."

Henry passed over the tooth and flashed you his gapped-tooth smile. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and gently nudged him off your lap.

You began to tidy up the hotel room, collecting both yours and Ezra's scattered clothing from the night before. It didn't take long until everything was sorted and repacked. By the time you'd finished, Ezra had rejoined you, his hair still damp from the washer. 

The children had stopped jumping on the bed so they could sit with him and listen to the story he was telling them. Marie sat, wide-eyed and captivated as he described the princess who traversed the entire galaxy, searching for her lost love. It was a story Ezra had been telling them nightly for the past week or so. He looked up at you and winked when he told the children of the princess' love confession in order to save her lover from the clutches of an evil witch.

"No matter where you go or what you do," he said softly. "There will be nothing in this galaxy or any other that will keep me from you. Through every black hole and supernova, I will always be there."

"Count on it!" the children erupted into giggles as they parroted what was apparently the fictional princess' catchphrase. 

You smiled as Ezra hugged each of the children separately. Little Marie clung to his neck and refused to let him go.

"Come on," he gently urged the children. "Let's go get something good to eat and then I can take you home. What do you say?"

The children all nodded sadly and stood up. "Yes, Mr. Ezra."

"Now," he hummed, "Why those long faces? You're gonna be home with your grandmother soon. And you'll forget all about me soon enough."

Marie snuggled in closer and shook her head. "I don't ever want to forget about you, Mr. Ezra! I promise I won't."

"Oh, little bird," he soothed. "It'll be alright, don't you worry."

You sighed softly and picked up the knapsack off the bed. Henry held tight to his brother's hand and stood beside the door as you got ready to leave. Neither of them would look at you or at Ezra and it broke your heart.

A few hours later, after a breakfast that you intentionally let go on much longer than necessary, you finally approached the palace gates where until recently, you had never left their safety for longer than a few weeks. It was nice to be back, you figured, you just wished Ezra would be staying as well. Perhaps you could convince him to stay for at least one night. His words about a short goodbye echoed in your head. Neither of you had made it particularly easy and only seemed to prolong your inevitable goodbyes with every passing minute.

You called to get the children's attention as you stood outside the gates. As you tried to make them look as presentable as possible, Ezra hung around, watching you with a fond expression.

Ezra cleared his throat in an attempt to distract himself from the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. He knew he would regret leaving for the rest of his days. But you deserved better than a shabby little rundown farm and a one armed ex-aurelac harvester. He felt like he was unworthy of your love, hell, unworthy of your very presence. He was too rough, too violent. His hands were too bloody from his past to hold you at night.

"Ezra, will you please come inside?" you asked, reaching over to touch his arm. "My mother, she will want to thank you properly. And you could stay for a day or two to gather your supplies. Perhaps they will give you payment as a reward for returning us home." You reached out with your other hand to press the button to let yourself through the gates.

Ezra shook his head and offered a small smile. "What I want isn't something that money can buy, Princess. I am just happy to know that you are safe now. Besides, a palace seems a slight bit too regal for my less than refined appearance. I worry I would repulse even the poor staff with my presence."

You wanted to protest his denial, wanted to throw yourself into his arms and beg him to stay with you and the children, not just for the night, but forever more. You nearly burst into tears when you looked over as the front door swung open. The fence opened just wide enough for you two usher the children through.

Edgar came walking towards you, followed quickly by three palace guards. To your surprise, he actually looked less enthused than he normally did. He wore a deep scowl on his face and glared at Ezra as he got closer.

"I should go, Princess," Ezra said, softly. He brushed his fingers against your hand as he pressed the backpack into your arms. "Before they think me a vagrant and toss me in your dungeon. Until our paths cross again."

He helped you to squeeze through the gate before he pressed a soft kiss to your hand. "Au revoir, your highness."

You wanted to call after him as he walked away, back towards the town center. 

He would be gone in the morning light, back to Muir, back to the farm. And you might never see him again.

Beside you, the children were sobbing and begging him to come back. Marie tried to run after him, but Aiden held her close, shushing her quietly.

"Duchess, welcome home!" Edgar exclaimed as the gate swung open. The three guards quickly circled you and the children and you glanced over one of their shoulders as Ezra disappeared around the corner. 

It wasn't supposed to end like this...

"Oh, we've been so worried!" Edgar continued with a smirk, tilting your chin up with his finger. Repulsed by his sudden forwardness, you jerked away from his touch. You gasped as the larger of the three guards shoved you. The children jumped in surprise at the action. "You weren't supposed to come back, you know. You were supposed to die out there, not cavort with the locals!"

"I--- what?" you asked, trying to back away. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as the guards moved in closer. Your grip on twins' wrists tightened slightly and Henry whimpered and tried to squirm away. You tried to calm him down as best you could.

"Take them away," Edgar said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. His expression turned dark and he grinned as he grabbed your chin so he could look you in the eye. "You need to be well rested. The freighter for the Green leaves tomorrow, Duchess."

"No!" you shrieked, kicking your legs wildly as the biggest guard picked you up with ease. He struck you across the face when you cried out Ezra's name. As he slung you with ease over his shoulder, you couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if only Ezra had stuck around for a bit... if only you'd told him how you felt instead of just letting him leave. "No! You will unhand me at once!"

"Mama!" Aiden cried, trying to pull the guard off of you. "Let her go! Henry!"

Two of the guards went after the twins, easily capturing them when they tried to bolt. They clapped their hands over the boys' mouths to muffle their screams for help.

Edgar went after Marie, but she quickly ducked out of his reach and doubled back to kick him in the shin. He roughly grabbed her by the arm and yanked her towards him. She let out an ear piercing scream and thrashed about in his arms.

"Mama!" she shrieked, using all of her strength to twist her arm free. "He's hurting me!"

"Stop!" you begged as the guard carried you towards the back garden of the palace. It was where your adventure began, you supposed it was only fitting it was to end there too.

The guard unceremoniously tossed you into the little garden shed. You stumbled backwards into the wall and slammed your head off of a low shelf. The last thing you saw was the other guards shoving your children into the tiny shed with you.

"Mama!" Marie wailed as darkness overtook you. 

Ezra didn't want to leave. He knew that you didn't want him to leave. He knew the children didn't want him to leave. But he also knew that your family would never approve of him should he choose to stay. 

So he did the only thing that he could do. The only thing that he'd ever done when faced with a difficult challenge. He left. Like a coward. It frustrated him to no end. He hated himself for just leaving when divine Kevva above was giving him every fucking opportunity to stay.

He knew something was wrong when the butler marched out of the house with three guards in tow. Based on the way he'd heard you talk about this place, it didn't exactly seem like the welcome wagon that he expected. But you didn't seem too concerned. There was no fear in your eyes...

"Au revoir, your highness," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. He only could hope that what he wanted to say so badly was evident in his kiss.

As he walked away, he did his best to ignore the children crying out after him. It pained him to do that to the poor kids, especially given how much they'd gone through, but he was so sure he was doing the right thing.

Immediately after he rounded the corner of the fence, he heard the childrens' sharp cries for help. Fear and alarm sound different than grief, he'd learned in his many years. You were in danger. The children were in danger.

Ezra took off running in the direction he'd come from, back towards the children, back to you. He crept along the fence, following the voices of the guards, and, he could only pray, you were among them. He wasn't fast enough to reach you, though he was able to get close enough to see the guard drag you into a stone tool shed through a slat in the fencing. 

The alarmed cries of the children were almost completely muffled when the butler slammed the door of the shed.

"No one goes into that shed," the butler growled. Ezra vaguely remembered you'd called him Edgar and expressed a dislike for him, the reason for which you couldn't quite pin down.

The guards murmured in compliance as Edgar made his way back towards the house. 

All Ezra needed to do was lure three highly-trained royal guards away from the shed so he could rescue you and the children. Easy. Right?

Ezra swore under his breath as he weighed his options. The only thing he could think of right now, aside from his absolute terror for you and the children, was the irony of the situation. The butler did it.

He could hear the children pounding on the door, pleading with the guards to let them out.

"Please!" one of the boys begged, his voice barely audible to Ezra. "Our mother hit her head! She won't wake up!"

"Shut up," one of the guards ordered, slamming his fist on the door. "No one in and no one out, your highness!"

Ezra couldn't help but roll his eyes. They were part of a plot to abduct the royal family and yet they couldn't stop with the formalities. 

He looked around, trying to find some way he could get inside the fence. It wouldn't be easy. They were wealthy and could easily afford to have a study fence to keep riffraff like him out of their garden. 

"I wish Mr. Ezra was here," Marie's sweet voice came from inside the shed. She sounded close to tears. 

"Aw, shut up, Marie," came the other twin. "Do you think he's gonna come get us? He left..."

Ezra shook his head. He couldn't let this happen to the children. Couldn't let them be shipped off to the inhospitable hell that was the Green. He wouldn't let it happen, no matter what. They were children.

He stood up and scoured the outside wall of the fence. It was about eight feet high, solid concrete posts, interspersed with iron beams. It reminded Ezra of a prison, not a home for children. If he stayed behind the concrete barriers, the guards would not see him. 

He peered around the edge of the barrier, trying to see the tiny shed where the children and the Duchess were being kept.

Suddenly, he felt the cool tip of a thrower pressed against the back of his head. He slowly held up his hand and straightened his back.

"The fuck do you think you're doing back here?" asked a harsh voice, warped and deepened by a vocoder. "This is private property."

"Pardon the intrusion," Ezra said, keeping his voice even. He closed his eyes and didn't turn around to face the man who had him cornered. "It sounded like someone was in distress. I only came to investigate. I must have been incorrect."

"Get up," the voice barked. Once Ezra was on his feet, the thrower was pressed against his lower back. "Walk. Slow now, no funny shit."

"I don’t believe I am in any position to try anything, regardless of whether or not I want to."

"Shut up," the voice growled. "Walk."

"Do I have a choice?" Ezra asked, smirking to himself even as the guard shoved him forward. He tripped and fell onto his knees with a grunt. 

"Let's go," the man snarled, yanking Ezra back to his feet by his jacket collar. He pushed and shoved Ezra towards an access door in the fence further from the shed. Once inside, the guard gave him another rough shove towards the other guards.

Ezra barely caught himself from face planting into the cobblestone path of the garden with his arm. He hissed in pain and rolled onto his side.

"Caught this one snooping around," he said. "Claimed he heard a noise."

"Saw him hanging around when the Duchess rang the bell," another guard said as he turned Ezra's head with the toe of his boot.

"Maybe we can tell her majesty this one was holding her granddaughter for ransom," another sneered. He pressed his boot against Ezra's arm with enough force to cause Ezra to choke back a curse.

"There will be none of that!" Edgar hissed as he scurried back to the huddled group. "We need to act quickly. They heard the children's shouts. We must move them at once, before they suspect me further."

Ezra wheezed a laugh and shook his head as one of the guards hauled him to his knees. "You're going through a whole lot of effort just for some money."

Edgar scowled and crouched down beside him. He tangled his fist in Ezra's hair and jerked his head upright, causing him to grit his teeth and grunt in pain.

"I'm not doing it for the money, you mangy, filthy mongrel," Edgar snarled, his face dangerously close to Ezra's. "No, no. The old bat is going to leave me nothing when she finally dies. Nothing! And if her bitch of a daughter and her intolerable little brats are still in the picture, I'm to be cast out! But if there's no one left, all that power is mine."

"And you think if no one's left, it somehow magically goes to you?" Ezra wheezed through the pain in his arm. "That is some of the most absolutely dimwitted--"

Edgar scowled and delivered a quick punch to Ezra's stomach. He smirked when the other man went limp in the arms of his captors for a moment.

"Now, do be a good lad and keep quiet," Edgar urged. "I just may let you accompany the children and the Duchess on the charter to the Green if you behave."

"No chance, Eddie," he chuckled breathlessly. "I never have been one for behaving, see? Too much paperwork."

"Very well," Edgar frowned and let Ezra fall back into the arms of the guard holding him. He jerked his head in the direction of the tiny tool shed. "Just you then. Kill them."

"No!" Ezra cried desperately as the guards readied their throwers. The low hum of charging weapons filled the brief silence that followed. His voice echoed off the palace walls and Edgar turned to him with a smile. "Please. Do not kill them." Ezra bared his teeth at the butler. "Let them go! Now! I worked on the Green before. I can do it again! I will take their place on the Green. Not them, please. Please--"

"That's enough!" a voice rang out, crisp and clear through the tension of the garden. "What in Kevva's name is going on out here?!”

********************

Aight it’s up! I’m gonna go reward myself with leftover Taco Bell and wine.

TAGLIST: 

@the-feckless-wonder @gallowsjoker @phoenixhalliwell @waatermelon-sugaar @huliabitch @miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @auandromedus

[k-s-morgan]

You got me into sebaciel FUCK. I started bingeing black butler last night and now I can’t stop. I am curious tho — what partially drew me to start watching it is because I love ships with possessive behavior, which is one of the popular tags of sebaciel. Are there any key parts that you recall in the series where obsession/possessiveness is very apparent? (I’m too early in but I’m assuming it’s directed from Sebastian towards Ciel.) thank youuu ❤️

Oh wow, I'm so happy to hear this! :D I love these two so much, and it always thrills me to have more people join in. Obsession and possessiveness are my two weaknesses, I always seek fiction with them. Your questions are very interesting, but I'm afraid I won't be able to reply without huge spoilers! If you don't mind, keep reading, if you do, better save it for later))

Possessiveness. It's demonstrated both subtly and strongly, and it applies to all areas at once. I will describe just some moments that immediately come to my mind because it's been a while since my complete re-watch.

In E9, Ciel is in danger. Finnie is one second from saving him - he's running toward him and is almost there. Instead of letting him save Ciel, Sebastian carelessly and violently pushes him away and covers Ciel himself (before pulling him closer and staring at him as if he's about to kiss him). He wants to be the one to save him, he sees this as his unique right. A part of it comes from the contract, but in this situation, it's not about it - the "why" will be seen later.

In E10, Abberline rushes after Ciel and reaches out to touch his shoulder because he has a question. Sebastian slaps his hand away and asks him not to touch Ciel. There is really no need for it, Abberline is harmless, so it's about possessiveness.

In Book of Circus, when Ciel is having a panic attack (the moment is also known as asthma scene), Sebastian leans closer to him with a blissed out look on his face and asks him to call him by his name. He loves hearing it from Ciel’s lips (and he loves his agony but that’s another discussion).

The next thing that stands out in my memory is Book of Murder, and the way Sebastian was all weird about Ciel liking Doyle's stories. Granted, several interpretations are possible here. However, Sebastian then makes Ciel undress (case reasons) and wear his coat, and he looks very smug about it. Ciel even asks why he insisted on it and Sebastian just says something like, "Isn't it fortunate how it can cover you whole?" He clearly enjoys Ciel wearing his clothes.

Then there are the last episodes of S1. Sebastian's dislike for Abberline has grown since Abberline bonded with  Ciel a bit. So when Ciel is in danger and Abberline dives to protect him, Sebastian doesn't push him away, like he did with Finnie, and he ignores the contract. Instead, he lets Abberline sustain a mortal blow on Ciel's behalf and die, and then he even gets an ugly grimace and spits that Abberline was a fool. Again, there are several reasons for it, but possessiveness is a big part of it, in my eyes.

The whole S2, Sebastian's possessiveness becomes very textual. For instance, he tells Claude, the other demon, that the mere thought of him touching Ciel makes him (Sebastian)  sick. He repeats how he won't let him touch him. Alois, Claude's master, notes that Sebastian is infatuated with Ciel. Then we have absolutely beautiful moments in E10 of S2, where Claude dresses Ciel and compliments him and  Sebastian is so violently livid that he destroys the entire forest around the house, breaking trees with every touch Claude administers.  When he sees Hannah touching Ciel, he also becomes livid and even gains his demonic form before going and straight-punching  Claude in the face :D

I'm sure there are more tinier things, but I don't recall them right now)

Obsessiveness. Obsession is basically there every episode. It's in how fervently Sebastian treats his duties, the care he takes in dressing Ciel (which is a huge contrast with Claude, who's a more typical demon not interested in his master beyond his soul). How he's genuinely terrified when Ciel is in danger and it doesn't look like his soul is the only thing he worries about. The way he stares at Ciel sometimes - so intense, so admiring, so fond.

From more textual examples: I liked how Sebastian tore into Prince Soma for basically not being Ciel. How he ridiculed his every trait that goes against the traits Ciel possesses.

In E18, when Ciel falls into Sebastian's arms after choosing revenge over freedom, Sebastian is so, so reverent about him, his voice is so tender:

Sebastian: How reckless you are... You always exceed my expectations. As expected from my soul... No, as expected from my Young Master.

When Angela was torturing Sebastian, she was visibly disturbed at the level of his devotion to Ciel. This is a bit of the conversation they have:

Sebastian: Even so, my Young Master is still going. Even if all the game pieces are taken away, the King is left. He'll never admit defeat. My master is that type of a person.

Angela: One day, the real Doomsday will come. On that morning, you'll have as many souls as you want. Just give up that boy.

Sebastian: I refuse. I'm tired of my previous life, only knowing to eat. I only want my Young Master. I don't want anything else besides him.

When Ciel comes close to breaking the contract, Sebastian doesn't attack him like he tried to do in the Book of Atlantic flashback. Instead, he leaves, but he also keeps following him, going as far as secretly leading him to where Ciel wants to go. He then watches Ciel obsessively from the roof. Angela is talking to him, making offers, trying to engage him, but Sebastian just throws a distasteful glance at her and immediately gets back to staring at Ciel.

There are way more moments like this in S1, but this is getting so long that I'll get to S2 now. The entire season is about obsession. Sebastian doesn't kill Ciel just because he doesn't want to. He comes up with stupid excuses that fall under even superficial scrutiny. He plans to help Ciel achieve his revenge for the second time because Ciel lost his memories. Claude calls him out on being utterly obsessed, and Sebastian states how special Ciel is and how he's worth it. Also, Alois' entire wish revolved around hurting Sebastian, and to achieve this, Claude decided to steal Ciel from him.

Sebastian is so upset that Ciel remembers few things that even the entire E2 is called "The Lonely Demon". He's so angry about Claude touching and keeping him that he tries to use Grell as Ciel-substitute a bit, serving and making them tea. At the very end, Sebastian once again finds himself unable to kill Ciel even though he loses every reason to serve him. Technically, the contract still binds them, but we saw that demons can easily kill their masters if they want. Instead, Sebastian is so lost about his own feelings (along with Ciel) that he tries to follow the same rituals, such as pretending he's making tea for Ciel when in fact the cup is empty. He ends up carrying him to Hell with him, even though again, he has every reason to kill him.

There are lots of other nuances and great details. Their relationship is so complex and beautiful, and so much is left in the subtext that I just can't get enough of it. I hope you keep enjoying watching it!

Added: I completely forgot about a few points! When Ciel’s soul is gone and his unconscious body remains, Sebastian keeps putting him in bed, making tea for him, talking to him about his plans, and even reading him books. This is just... amazing, considering who he is))

[kissed-by-snow]

My Take on the Radiant Quote

Jon noticed the shy looks she [Myrcella] gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn't even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

His half sisters escorted the royal princes. Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers.

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon [...] Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall. 

- A Game of Thrones, Jon I

Let me begin by saying I don’t think Jon describes Sansa this way because of  a romantic interest in her. However,  I do think this quote is interesting because it describes their relationship in a different way and has other implications. One way to read this quote is by contrasting to how he sees about Myrcella to how he sees Sansa. 

Objectively, both Sansa and Myrcella feel the same about the boys escorting them - flushed and lovestruck, but Jon calls Sansa radiant and Myrcella insipid and stupid.

The reason for this could be multiple things:

he’s notes how happy she is (notice he doesn’t talk about Arya’s appearance - which is probably either disappointed, disgruntled or neutral - most likely because Sansa’s happiness is so vibrant)

a side observation might be that he’s never seen Sansa look so happy?

he’s happy that she’s happy (calls her radiant when he could have mocked her admiration by calling her insipid)

This leads me to believe that their relationship isn’t as bad as people usually interpret it to be. I think they had a fairly neutral relationship but didn’t have much to bond over (he’s into swords, she’s into embroidery he was a punk, she did ballet, what more can I say) and with contrasting personalities, tended not to gravitate towards each other. So, a neutral but respectful relationship considering their own duties, roles and how they spend their time (which was mainly in different social circles).

Now, the people Jon most frequently remembers are his father (for obvious reasons) Robb and Arya.

First, let’s begin with Jon’s relationship with Robb.

Robb, his rival and best friend and constant companion;

- AGOT, Jon III

Jon told the story of how he and Robb had found the pups newborn in the late summer snows.

Robb and Bran and Rickon were his father's sons, and he loved them still, yet Jon knew that he had never truly been one of them.

Jon had often hunted with his father and Jory and his brother Robb. He knew the wolfswood around Winterfell as well as any man

- AGOT Jon IV

Jon was still not certain how he felt about it. Robb a king? The brother he'd played with, fought with, shared his first cup of wine with? But not mother's milk, no. So now Robb will sip summerwine from jeweled goblets, while I'm kneeling beside some stream sucking snowmelt from cupped hands. "Robb will make a good king," he said loyally.

- ACOK, Jon I

...so Robb and he used to climb the towers of Winterfell to shout at each other across the yard.

- ASOS, Jon VII

Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.

- ASOS, Jon X

When Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. 

- ASOS, Jon XI

You can't be the Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born, he heard Robb say again. And the stone kings were growling at him with granite tongues. You do not belong here.

A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. 

- ASOS, Jon XII

It reminded him of warmer, simpler days, when he had been a boy at Winterfell matching blades with Robb under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik Cassel

- ADWD, Jon VI

From the above quotes, we see that Jon’s memories oscillate between feeling fond and mildly resentful/jealous of his brother. They’ve been together the longest and had the most in common but Jon was constantly aware of the distance in status between them. And when you consider the fact that Ned wanted Jon to have the best education possible, Robb and Jon had more reasons to spend time together but his status as a bastard in comparison to Robb’s as the heir of Winterfell, does seem to hold him a little back from having a bond as close as the one he has to Arya. 

Now Jon and Arya almost seem to have too many reasons to be close. From sharing the Stark look (which in the books, only they share and which may have made Jon feel a little better compared to Robb) to feeling out of place (Jon as a bastard and Arya not wanting to conform to traditional femininity) and having common interests (fighting, mainly). Add on to the fact that Arya is almost just as likely to inherit Winterfell as Jon? Yeah, they have every reason to be close.  

And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. 

AGOT, Jon III

Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike

ACOK, Jon VI

She wasn't wed and her weapon of choice was a short curved bow of horn and weirwood, but "spearwife" fit her all the same. She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier

ASOS, Jon II

Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me.

But what if Arya was not there to be saved? What if Lady Melisandre's flames had told it true? Could his sister truly have escaped such captors? How would she do that? Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she's just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth.

ADWD, Jon VII

He wanted to believe it would be Arya. He wanted to see her face again, to smile at her and muss her hair, to tell her she was safe. She won't be safe, though. Winterfell is burned and broken and there are no more safe places.

Wherever he might send her, though, Arya would need silver to support her, a roof above her head, someone to protect her. She was only a child.

“Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already." She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. "Will you help me?"

ADWD, Jon IX

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl.

ADWD, Jon XI

Compared to Robb, every memory Jon has of Arya is positive. He emphasizes their similarities and feels protective of her as she was the closest family member to him (and he still thinks of her as a child in ADWD which is why Jonarya makes me feel more than a little uncomfortable). He sees her in everything and everyone because she’s directly tied to his happiest memories and is his closest tie to the Stark family.

TL: DR - So, the reason he reminisces about Robb is because he grew up with him (and was a similar age to him, had the same education and also shared a father) and even more with Arya because they related to each other the most and had the Stark look (especially Arya because he doesn’t have the attached semi-resentment of Robb becoming the lord of winterfell, because it’s what he’s always wanted).

This doesn’t mean that Jon and Sansa’s relationship was awful or horrible or that they hated each other. Just that Jon has more memories and similarities to Robb and Arya.

Moving forward, I would like to see them develop a closer relationship (once they reunite - I’m tentatively in the camp of Grey Girl Sansa -  through their own reciprocal experiences (Jon, from bastard to Lord Commander, and Sansa, from Lady to Bastard), learning the value of home (both Jon and Sansa were most eager to leave, albeit for different reasons) and coming to appreciate each other’s compatible but different skill sets. 

[the-jade-cross]

Over the Mountains - Chapter 1

My name is Persephone Anatello. My first name is pronounced (p-ur-s-eh-f-oh-n-ee) and my last name is pronounced (Anne-uh-tell-oh).

I an 99 years old but I only look like I could be twenty or so. I have deep brown hair and leaf green eyes. I was born alongside by twin brother, Prometa (Pro-m-eh-t-ah) but he died during a war. My mother was a halfbreed: half dwarf half elf. Her mother was an elf and her father was a dwarf. My father...was also halfbreed: half skin changer (on his mother's side) and half wizard (on his father's side). In that case, I'm not a half breed but more like a quarter breed. I am part elf, dwarf, skin changer and wizard!

With all of these heritages, I have many powers. From my mother's side I have developed mostly my style of fighting and my features. I am petite like a dwarf, but not as short as a hobbit, standing about four feet tall at most. That is taller than most hobbits luckily. I don't possess the dwarves's rugged figure but rather the slender, graceful and delicate body of an elf, including the ears but they aren't as pointed as most elves, but they're pointy none the less.

I have no beard (THANK THE HEAVENS!) but my dark hair (according to my parents) came from the dwarf side. It's thick and hardy like a dwarves but soft and silky like an elf's. I have developed the strength, endurance and stubbornness of the dwarves but the agility, gracefulness, patience and good manners as well as fighting style from the elves.

My fighting style is a mixture of all my ancestors so most people think I am a completely rare race myself. Most people call me A Whisperer but before my brother died, he named our 'race' Faerie.

The traits that I have inherited from my father is my ability to transform into a wolf. My father's ancestor was a fox skin changer but I turned out to be a wolf skin changer. most people don't believe it because I don't look like most skin changers when I am in human form. I can fool anyone. I'm not as tall nor aggressive and am actually very kind and a good companion when in wolf form. I can transform whenever I wish but sometimes I cannot help it especially if I'm upset, scared or angry.

From my wizard heritage, I have developed the ability to use some magic. I can conjure fire, water, light as well as a levitating spell but sometimes they don't work especially if something is on my mind, I'm wounded or upset.

As far as features go besides my hair, my parents told me that my green eyes came from my skin changer side for they are the rarest green color ever.

However, they match my rich brown hair perfectly, setting off the copper colors in my hair. Of course however, my hair and eyes change color whenever I am going through transformation from human to wolf, or when I am using my wizard magic. During that time, my eyes turn violet and my hair takes on several shades of purple and pink.This soon developed into the wizards referring to me as the Purple Wizard or the Wizard of the Milky Way.

Having all these talents soon proved my downfall for no dwarves or humans would let me near them. My elven people of Rivendell took me in shortly after my brother was killed in battle and I stayed with them for a good part of my life. After that I went and lived with Gandalf the Gray for a time as well as Radagast on and off. I never lived with men or dwarves but I ran into them occasionally. In terms of skin changers, they were all wiped out before I was born so I never found any of my skin changer people.

By the time I turned 80, I ran away from other people but kept in touch with the elves and wizards. I lived on my own in the wilderness, wandering around and exploring. Before long I knew almost every single corner of the world. I worked as a spy for the wizards and elves and made many friends especially with Arwen, Elrond and Galadrial.

It wasn't until I was 99 that I received a visit from the Wizard. Gandalf had a mission for me.... but that meant I would have to come out of hiding. Well, better late than never.

********

"So listen here Sepha," the wizard said, using Persephone's nickname. "I'll be going in with the dwarves. I want you to wait until all the dwarves arrive."

"How will I know when they're all here?" Persephone whispered.

The two were hiding in the bushes of the garden, watching the dwarves who were one by one approaching the hobbit hole.

"I'll let you know when I want you to come in," Gandalf whispered. "How about that?"

Sepha nodded and sat back in the bushes, "I'll just stay here then."

Gandalf nodded and got up, brushing himself off and heading to the door just as a group of dwarves arrived.

Sepha drew out her two swords and began to run her fingers over the elvish runes.

The swords she had fashioned herself but in memory of her mother, she had etched in elvish designs to the blade, as well as styling the sword to look ancient elvish. However, on the other side of the sword that most people didn't see, she had etched dwarfish designs.

After a while she set the sword back onto the hilts on her back. She messed with the iron wrist brace that she wore on her left wrist. After her brother died, she had decided to hold her race with pride. People always tried guessing which race she was so she decided to make Faerie's official even though there had only been two.... and only one was still alive. She had fashioned a large metal bracelet type thing that came from below her elbow to her wrist, hugging her arms snugly. Two strips of thin metal ran around her middle finger, connecting the brace.

Etched deep into the brace were designs that she had designed herself, making them 'Faerie' designs. most of them were shaped like skin changers with a mixture of dwarf and elf designs intertwined as well as magical designs for their wizard culture. On the underneath where no one but she could see, she etched in her family tree in Khuzdul and around the tree was a wolf, a swirl of magic, a dwarf axe, an elvish arrow and at the top, her brother's name in elvish.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she heard a knocking beside her. Turning, she saw Gandalf looking at her through a window, winking at her. Time to go inside.

Standing up, she pulled her hood on and pulled her mask over her face, only letting her green eyes show. She put her swords onto her back and put her left hand under her cloak. She didn't want to flash her Faerie band just yet.

She knocked firmly on the door and it was answered by a little man whom she guessed was Bilbo. he was shorter than her and looked slightly shocked.

"GAAAAANNNNDDAAAALLLLFFFF?????" Bilbo called, looking at the girl uncertainly.

Gandalf arrived within seconds and smiled at Persephone, "Ah there you are my dear. Come on in."

Sepha stepped inside and soon saw that she was the last person to arrive. There was a host of dwarves standing in the kitchen doorway, all of them crowding to see who had arrived. She glanced over them quickly and caught sight of two young dwarves who looked about her age, both staring in awe. The tallest dwarf was bald and had his arms crossed, considering the girl thoughtfully. However, the dwarf who was obviously a leader had his eyebrows down.

"Who is this Gandalf?" a young dwarf asked quietly.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet the fifteenth member of the company: Persephone Anatello." Gandalf said. "Persephone, I would like you to meet THorin Oakenshield."

The leader stepped forward and looked slightly down at the girl. Persephone considered him from beneath her hood, not letting him even see the color of her eyes. He was strikingly handsome with ebony black hair, the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen and firm features.

"We are not taking a woman with us Gandalf," Thorin snapped.

Persephone rolled her eyes which at once caught the attention of FIli and Kili.

"Uncle, we don't even know anything about her. She might be a really good fighter." Kili suggested.

THorin snorted, "She wont even show her face."

Sighing, Persephone reached up and pulled her hood back, letting her brown hair down and revealing her bright green eyes. Everyone was taken aback by her beautiful eyes but they weren't prepared when she pulled her mask down.

Fili took a step back in shock and Kili's jaw dropped open.

"By my beard," Bofur whispered to Nori, "She's a bonnie lass!"

An old dwarf, Balin, stepped forward and considered the girl, "How old are you lass?"

Sepha smiled, knowing that they all probably thought she was a human, "99 sir."

Balin's eyebrows shot up and Sepha saw Thorin's eyes widen in surprise.

"I am part dwarf," she explained. "That's why I'm short."

Fili snickered when Kili frowned, not liking the idea of being called short.

"What about fighting?" Dwalin inquired, towering over the girl.

Sepha looked up at the huge intimidating dwarf with no fear in her eyes. This surprised everyone for Dwalin was rather frightening. She smiled. "Swords."

Dwalin looked at THorin in time to see a faint smile lick across the dwarf's face. Thorin was especially fond of the sword, even over an axe. That was a good first impression on Sepha's part.

"I like her," Fili chirped while Kili still gawked.

Balin nodded, "I think she would be a good asset to the team."

"Sepha is also a trained healer," Gandalf pointed out. "She is also extremely talented in navigation and tracking."

"I'm in," Dwalin remarked.

All eyes turned to Dwalin in surprise. He was considering the girl with a firm look but a smile on his face. He was nodding slowly.

"Never judge a book by it's cover. Let's give her a try."

All eyes turned to Thorin who was pinching the bridge of his nose. He obviously wasn't all for it. He sighed.

"Fine. But on a trial basis."

epha tried to avoid the dwarves at all costs while they lingered around the place, bothering the poor hobbit. She soon found her way into the kitchen where Nori and Ori were putting the dishes away. She could tell they would be there a while so she twirled her fingers, not letting them see her in the shadows.

Suddenly, the dishes began to float and levitate to their cabinets, leaving Ori and Nori stunned. Halfway through, the two let out horrified squeals and rushed from the kitchen. Sepha chuckled to herself, finishing her job and turning.

That was when she realized that two pairs of eyes were staring at her in awe: Fili and Kili.

"That is absolutely brilliant!" Kili gushed. "How did you do that?"

Sepha smiled, "I'm part wizard on my father's side."

"but you're part dwarf too?" Fili inquired, "That is officially the coolest thing I have ever seen!"

Sepha chuckled and pulled her hood over her hair, leaving her mask down, "What are you guys going to do next? It's a few hours before it's time for bed."

The two nodded, "Thorin is calling us into the sitting room. Come on."

The two grabbed each of her hands and pulled her into the living room. All the dwarves were there and Sepha could see Gandalf sitting in the other room, nearby while Bilbo was in his bedroom, the door open.

Sepha didn't want to intrude because of the silence in the room, she knew that this was a dwarfish thing. Pulling away from Fili and Kili, she stood in the doorway, arms crossed, partially in the shadows.

She could see the smoke from the pipes make swirls in the air and it smelled sweet to her. Suddenly, the silence was broken by a deep baritone voice singing and Sepha realized in shock that it was THorin!

He was staring into the fire, one arm on the mantle, singing deeply as the other dwarves began to join him.

Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away ere break of day To find our long-forgotten goldThe pines were roaring on the height The winds were moaning in the night The fire was red, it flaming spread The trees like torches blazed with light

When they finished, Sepha found herself smiling. One by one, the dwarves said goodnight to each other and headed out of the room, off to find a corner of the room to sleep. Soon, it was only Dwalin, Fili and Kili in the room. Kili was staring at the fire, almost sadly while Fili had an arm around his shoulders. Dwalin had a hand on his shoulder, patting it.

"Kili," Sepha said, stepping into the dim light, "Are you alright?"

The youngest dwarf nodded, "it's just.... this is my first time really being away from home and.... I don't know...."

Sepha smiled and sat down on the other side of Kili. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and the dwarf laid his head on her shoulder.

"I know what it feels like," she whispered. "I had to leave my home... when I was young and I felt lost and alone. Even though there were people to care for me, I felt like I didn't belong."

"What happened to your parents?" Kili whispered.

Sepha stiffened and Kili sensed it, "You don't have to tell me if you dont want to."

"They... were killed in war," she whispered, "So was my twin brother... Prometa."

"I'm sorry lass," Dwalin said, standing by the mantle where Thorin had stood not long ago, "No one that young should lose their loved ones."

Sepha nodded and stroked Kili's hair and she felt him shiver, "What do you miss about home the most Kili?"

FIli and Dwalin could tell right away that she was trying to comfort him so they didn't say anything.

"I miss my mother.... she was a woman.... but she was so strong too! So brave when everyone else was scared or upset. She was the strongest person I know..." Kili whispered.

Sepha smiled and hugged him tighter, "Never feel like you should feel ashamed of missing your mother. It's the cowards who say that they don't miss their mothers, or sisters or wives. It's the strong brave ones who know that we aren't here to make them seem weak, but to help them be stronger."

Kili sniffed and sighed, "Can you sing something? My mom always sang when Fili and Kili were scared."

Fili was about to point out that she hadn't done that since they were kids but Sepha's smiled cut him off.

"Sure thing."

Fili sat forward, watching Sepha and Dwalin considered the young girl. Her face seemed to relax and her features lit up as her angelic, soft voice gently filled the room with a soft sensation that the dwarves had never felt before.

I saw the light fade from the sky On the wind I heard a sigh As the snowflakes cover my fallen brothers I will say this last goodbyeNight is now falling So ends this day The road is now calling And I must away Over hill and under tree Through lands where never light has shone By silver streams that run down to the sea

Under cloud, beneath the stars

Over snow one winter's morn I turn at last to paths that lead home And though where the road then takes me I cannot tell We came all this way But now comes the day To bid you farewell

Many places I have been Many sorrows I have seen But I don't regret Nor will I forget All who took the road with me

Night is now falling

So ends this day The road is now calling And I must away Over hill and under tree Through lands where never light has shone By silver streams that run down to the sea

To these memories I will hold

with your blessings I will go

to turn at last to paths that lead home

and though where the road then takes me

I cannot tell

We came all this way

but now comes the day

to bid you farewell

I bid you all a very fond farewell

When she finally finished, Fili's mouth was practically dangling open, Dwalin was smiling fondly at the girl and Kili was sound asleep, on the verge of snoring. Not looking at Fili or Dwalin, Persephone reached over and slipped from underneath Kili's head so that he was lying in front of the fire.

"Brisingr," she whispered, fire shooting from her fingers and making the fire burn brighter.

Dwalin jumped slightly at that but Fili just grinned in awe. As the girl slowly stepped into the kitchen, where she was going to bunk down for the night, Dwalin caught sight of Thorin standing in the doorway. His blue eyes were staring in wonder after Persephone while the rest of him was silent and serious... but calm.

Dwalin smirked and headed past THorin to get some sleep, "She's a special one," he whispered as he passed. "I can tell."

When the dwarf was gone, THorin looked at where Persephone had curled up against the warm stone wall next to the fireplace. He had to admit that even though it wasnt the most comfortable position, sleeping sitting up, her idea of sitting against the hot stones wasn't a bad idea.

"We'll see," Thorin whispered, looking from the girl to his two nephews who were sleeping by the fire.

[kaiofmotunui]

Beautiful Little Fools | TIKAI

Who: @tiaisms & @kaiofmotunui

When: Saturday, December 6th

Where: Tiana’s Place

What: At Tia’s Prohibition-Themed 21st birthday, she and Kai confront each other about having been broken up for almost two years, and stakes are high. Spoiler alert: They get back together, but you all knew this because this took place four months ago. 

Kai hadn't stopped thinking about the playlist Tia had given him since he got it. He had to admit, they had very different tastes in music, and it took him a while to really get into Patsy Cline and Kacey Musgraves, but once he started listening to the lyrics, he couldn't help but feel there was a theme. A theme of lost love, of longing, of second chances...And he didn't want to read too far into it, but he knew Tia wasn't one to do anything by accident. So when he received an invitation to her party in the rest of the gifts she'd sent to his cottage for his birthday, Kai figured the least he could do was show up. He was technically "in" the @ pack, and had been since it began, but he wasn't much of a partier and she knew that, so he rarely actually showed. This would be maybe his third time -- and it helped that the theme was something he could get behind. Suspenders stretched taut across his chest, bowtie tied tightly around his neck, trousers fitted...Kai felt like he looked good. Good enough to not leave this place heartbroken? He didn't know. The atmosphere was very reminiscent of the 1920s themed prom where they'd first said their I Love Yous and traded virginities, and that...kind of felt like a sign. He'd even worn the ankle bracelet she'd gotten him two birthdays ago as kind of a good luck charm. But luckily, he gave her the one (1) gift of wearing pants that covered his ankles, tonight, so hopefully no one would notice and call him out on it. Kai scanned the crowd while sipping his 'TiaTini', having not spotted the birthday girl since he arrived. But then, the crowd parted and Tia emerged almost in slow motion. Obviously dressed perfectly to theme, and laughing alongside Izzie and Freddie. Kai had been so taken aback by the vision, he'd stopped mid-sip and almost spilled the pink cocktail onto his shoes. "Shit," he muttered to himself as he dodged the drip and, no doubt, drew attention to himself. He gave Tia, who'd definitely noticed him by now, a small wave as he started to walk over to her.

Tia was almost certain that Kai wasn't going to show up at her party. After Waltfest and New Year's he had absolutely no reason to show up now that a while she'd finally pulled her butt out of her head and actually tried to get him back. Which was fine, she supposed. He tried to fight for her and now it was gonna be her turn to try to fight for him. Probably. But she wasn't going to let that bother her that night, she'd already cast out her first "green light" in the form of her playlist and party invitation, so she just planned to really worry about the rest later. Her birthday was going to be spent being the belle of the ball and having the most fun with the people that actually showed up. So she was fully taken off guard when in the middle of joking with Izzie and Freddie about how Sage wouldn't have to let strange men pet her hair for booze anymore, Kai pulled her attention by nearly making a mess. Instantly forgetting about what she was doing, Tia returned Kai's wave and forced herself to walk and not run up to him. "I can't believe you actually showed up, hi."

Kai shrugged at Tia's words once she met him halfway. "Me? Not show up? Never," he shook his head and tried to remain cool as he sipped his TiaTini this time. "I mean...I know I'm not exactly the member of the @ pack with a perfect attendance record, but...this is your birthday. Twenty-one! So of course I had to come. Happy birthday." Kai shoved a hand into his pocket and nearly ripped out the inner lining as he internally fought with himself on what to say next. "And I had to thank you in person for my awesome birthday presents, too. I've been listening to the playlist on repeat. And, as always, the cupcake was delicious. You always know exactly what to get."

Tia grinned in response to Kai's statement and fiddled with the long string of pearls around her neck as she nervously waited to see if he'd say anything about her not exactly subtle playlist. Getting rejected on her birthday would be a pretty shocking new low after all. "Well I'm glad you could make it! Thank you" Ordinarily Tia would've finished the thanks with a hug, but since Tia didn't really couldn't guess where the conversation would even go, she just stood there only kind of awkwardly. "You're welcome, it was no problem really. You're officially in the double digits club now so I had to make you something cool. And like...from the heart specifically. "

Kai furrowed his brow as he really thought about 'the double digits club'. "I -- " he started to correct, her, but just let himself chuckle it off. "Thanks. It's so weird to think that I'm twenty now. And you're twenty-one. It feels like just yesterday we were baking in the home ec. room." He rolled his eyes but smiled with fondness all the same at the memory. "But you mean that? The playlist was from the heart?" He tried to make it sound like not a huge deal, but he was trying to gauge if the non-subtlety of it all was....intentional. Or just another 'Tia putting children's music on a sex playlist' thing. "Cause I really took it to heart. Just...thought you should know....that." He shrugged, living in the vagueness of it all just a little too much, he was sure. But after so many past rejections, he couldn't bring himself to be more blunt.

Tia joined the chat 15 hours ago

Tia let out a soft laugh at the memory of Home Ec and how wild it was that time was passing so quickly. "I know right? We're so old now! And of course I mean that. My whole entire heart is still in love with you and misses you and that's what most of the songs were about." Tia admitted, grimacing slightly as she fought all her instincts to beat around the bush, Kai had been the clearest ever with her when he tried to get her back, so she absolutely owed him the same.

Kai cocked a brow. Well, that came out easier than he'd expected...and it didn't hit his ear the way he'd expected, either. He came not exactly on the mission of winning Tia back, but with the idea in the back of his head...why didn't it feel as good as he'd hoped? Maybe because he was still jaded from the last two times that he'd tried to make this happen, maybe because now he knew that this was how she'd felt all along, and yet she still let him go through those rejections. Made him go through those rejections. But now that she was ready, he was supposed to leave all that behind? Which he was fully prepared to do, but he wasn't going to make it as easy as....configuring a playlist. "Wow. That's....interesting," he shrugged. "You had a change of mind almost a year later?" Kai sipped his TiaTini in a very KermitMeme.jpeg way.

Tia 's eyebrows practically shot up to her little bejeweled 20s headband at Kai's reaction to her admission. Even though it was extremely off the cuff and unplanned, she had expected a much more enthusiastic reaction than what she'd gotten. "Well not exactly..." She muttered, instantly less brave than she was only seconds before. "I've always loved you...but like..stuff happened and I..I don't know. Ugh." Really not used to much resistance where getting Kai was concerned, Tia grew visibly frustrated as she tried and failed to figure out how to explain herself.

Kai felt his brow soften as she stammered through an explanation. "Yeah....I don't know either," he shrugged, suddenly feeling more sullen than spiteful. It was always that creeping insecurity of the two of them being fools about a relationship that would never work out in the long run that came creeping up into his brain at the most inopportune moments. "I know where I am emotionally right now, and I know that I'd rather dump this drink on my head than ever hurt you again, but now I've been hurt too. And we like to think we're so much older and mature but like....are we?" He smirked bitterly at not only the situation, but himself. How could he have gotten his hopes up over something that he knew deep down always ended in one of them in pain? "I...I'm gonna have to think about it." But he knew himself -- he knew that he'd think for two seconds, remember there were new boobs involved that he hadn't touched yet, and dive headfirst back into this tornado of a relationship. Still, Kai tried to at least pretend like he was going to mull things over as he turned around to walk away from her, but as he turned a passerby knocked the martini glass out of his hand and onto the ground. "Shit," Kai muttered as he knelt to retrieve it.

Tia bit down hard on her lower lip and tried her best to not tear up or just run away as Kai spoke. She genuinely believed that after really trying her best to be a new chiller person and after seeing him actually stay in one place for like over two years, they really did have a chance to not hurt each other this time, but she didn't really have the words or the courage to actually get that out. So when Kai turned to walk away, she made no moves to stop him. The current state of her eyeliner was much more important to her than something she'd planned on fixing later ANYWAY. She was basically running on some weird kind of autopilot as she bent down to grab the dropped martini glass and only really snapped out of it as the gleam of something gold on Kai's surprisingly mostly covered ankle. Tia forgot all about what she'd been reaching for and instead yanked Kai's pant leg as high as she could get it with them both down on the ground. "What the heck! Is this some kind of joke is this supposed to be?"

Kai tried to tear his pant leg from Tia's grip, not entirely sure why she was holding onto it and nearly making him fall over in the process -- that was, until she lifted it over his ankle bracelet. Oh. Double shit. He quickly stood up and covered up the shame on his ankle. "No one's joking! I wore it...because it's your birthday," he lied. "And I still have it. So I figured it was appropriate to wear to your special Tia-themed shindig with your....Tiana's Place and your TiaTinis and whatever else." He rambled on defensively -- She couldn't know that he had come here fully prepared to admit he was still madly in love with her, just like he'd done. Especially since he put on this whole 'I'll have to think about it' show. "I'm not -- I wasn't...I wasn't hoping for this to happen, if that's what you're implying."

Tia shot up from the ground just seconds after Kai did, crossed her arms against her chest and glared at him as he listened to his explanation. "That's stupid. First of all, my birthday party isn't Tia themed. It's the 20s. I'm pretty sure they didn't have customized ankle bracelets back then. Secondly, I'm not implying anything. Mostly because I'm not super sure I know what that means but also I'm not! You got my playlist and knew how I felt about you for FIVE WHOLE DAYS NOW and even though you apparently don't want me back anymore you wore that anklet here anyway. What is wrong with you!?" She was just barely not screaming at the top of her lungs at this point, since they for sure had to be causing at least a little bit of a scene but she wasn't entirely sure she cared or not. Tia uncrossed her arms and angrily held out one hand to Kai, palm up. "Give me the ankle bracelet back, you apparently have some thinking to do and I'd hate for this to confuse you as much as it's confusing me right now." 

Kai scoffed at her dissecting his perfectly-crafted response, and was about to rebut when she demanded to know what was wrong with him, but was taken off guard when she then demanded he give the ankle bracelet back. "What?! I'm not -- !!!" he started, then realized he sounded a little too passionate and attached to this ankle bracelet. Kai cleared his throat and started the sentence over. "I'm not giving it back, that's crazy. It was a gift. And you can't just make a playlist like that and profess your love for me, when a year ago I tried. Twice! And you broke my heart both times!" He was breaking down now, finally letting his calm and cool facade melt away into the pure sap he felt like every time he was near her. "We started this year off kissing each other, and you left me in a crowd of people like nothing even happened. The worst part about all of this is that I'm not confused! After all that, I still want to be with you more than anything!" It felt like it all came out at once, and Kai's heart pounded behind his ribcage. Emotional vulnerability fucking sucked. "So yeah. That's why I wore this thing, because it's kind of the only hope I have that we can make it. And I'm not giving it back."

Tia 's face flushed a deep shade of angry red as she really considered getting down on her hands and knees to rip the bracelet off his ankle with her bare hands. But that was probably a little too crazy for right then. So instead she buried the idea and kept her hand out for the bracelet as he spoke...but the more he spoke, the thought did creep up again. Especially when he insisted that she'd left him in that crowd like nothing happened. At which point, she finally had to put her hand down and instead began clenching both hands into tight little fists at her sides, ignoring the bite of the nails and rhinestones as they dug into her skin. "Then what did you even need to think about. How to make me feel as bad as you did both of those times when I broke your heart? Newsflash, Aukai, i was fully shattering my own heart at the exact same time. I can't even start to go into how horrible I've felt for a whole actual year straight, but All you're doing right now is making everything take way longer than it needs to just because I'm the stupidest girl alive, and that's even worse."

Kai raised his brows. He didn’t know she felt bad for what she did — from where he stood, she’d rejected him and then went off with two different yet strikingly similar tall and hairy guys. “Well I think the difference here is that...I didn’t know that. You never let me in on the fact that you felt bad — All I saw was you leaving me to go be with Huntley or get stood up on dates by Leo Fitzherbert.” He rolled his eyes at the mere mention of both of those assholes, both of whom had now rejected her in the exact same ways. “I don’t blame you for saying no....both times. I guess,” he shook is head with a sigh. “I’m the stupid one. I’ve fucked up your trust too many times. I can’t blame you.” He toyed with the martini glass in his hand as he struggled to meet Tia’s gaze. “So I don’t have to think anymore. Now what?”

Tia rolled her eyes when Kai said he hadn't known how she felt. Like she didn't struggle with telling him how they felt when they were together and happy. "Like you've never heard of a stupid rebound." She muttered, not at all interested in even hearing the names of those other guys. Still, she ended up letting her clenched fists slacken as Kai talked. Part of the magic of their relationship was that as quickly as he could rile her up, he could usually bring her right back down into being putty in his hands. "Language. But...I don't know, if you don't have to think anymore, what'd you decide?" Tia was pretty sure she knew what he was going to say, but she still couldn't help nervously looking down at the floor before glancing up at him through her lashes

Kai sighed. He'd put the ball in her court, and she tossed it right back into his. Kai shook his head, allowing the feelings he felt coming into the night come back to him. The hopefulness, the butterflies, the need to kiss her. "I decided that I'm not going anywhere." He shrugged, knowing that what he said might sound simple to anyone else, but between them, it meant everything. "And if you'll have me, I'd be so down to give us another try. Hopefully the final try this time." Kai stepped closer to Tia, and oh-so delicately took one of her hands in his, rubbing his thumb across the back.

And then they kissed and lived happily ever after or something, idk because Dany never replied. 

[emeraldwaves]

Title: Start of Something New Chapter 7 Pairing:  Todomomo, side Kamijirou Rating: T Word Count:  3,207 Summary: Momo is thrilled to be spending her winter break on her family ski vacation. Even though she’s anxious about graduating in the spring, she’ll have time to relax, enjoy the slopes and hang out with her best friend. Shouto is not thrilled to be stuck with his father for the entirety of his winter break. It’s anything but a vacation. Even with his siblings there, everything reminds him of his past and he just wants to get back to finishing school and moving on. When the two continuously run into each other at the lodge, both of them realize their vacations aren’t going to be what either of them expected. Read on AO3 Thanks to @its-love-u-asshole for reading this!

Climbing the stairs to the top of the lodge building, Shouto was thrilled to be getting some time to himself. Just as Yaoyorozu had pointed out, there was a large rooftop deck, completely empty minus her. Currently she was leaning over the railing, her long dark hair fluttering in the cool night air. She hadn't been kidding when she casually mentioned it was cold. Cold was... an understatement.

Zipping up his jacket, Shouto let the door shut behind him. Immediately Yaoyorozu turned around and waved, smiling at him. He nuzzled his nose against the collar of his coat and walked towards the edge of the deck where she stood.

There was something about her Shouto couldn't quite place. He didn't know this girl at all, and yet he felt drawn to her. She was beautiful, probably one of the most beautiful girls he had ever encountered, but it wasn't her beauty which drew him in. She seemed genuine, kind and easily excited, but still poised, classy, and well put together. He found himself impressed by her.

It was why his feet kept walking towards her even now.

"Ah! Todoroki-san!" she said. "I'm glad you were able to find it. T-Though I suppose it wouldn't be too difficult to find a rooftop deck." She laughed at herself, though he could sense she seemed nervous. "A-Anyway, I'll stop talking now so you can have some peace and quiet. I understand how sometimes a vacation doesn't feel like one unless you... take some time to yourself."

A small smile pulled across his face. "I don't mind talking to you, Yaoyorozu-san. You're very refreshing."

"A-Am I?!" she squeaked, shock crossing her features.

"Trust me," he muttered, leaning against the railing. "You're far better than dealing with my father at dinner."

"I see..." she said softly. Her pale face was illuminated by the fairy lights which trailed around the deck. They twinkled against the snow, some of them covered with the freezing white dust. The slopes before them were mostly dark, minus two small trails still lit for those who chose to go night skiing. "I'm sorry, but... I do understand," she admitted. "My parents haven't been the best this year either." A sad look crossed her eyes, and Shouto wanted to ask her more, but felt it wasn't his place.

"You... come here every year, correct?" he asked, glancing towards her.

Immediately her face lit up. "Yes!" she said, clapping her hands together. "I know I mentioned it before, but this is my favorite place in the whole world." She smiled, glancing out at the mountain. "The air is fresh, the snow is beautiful, and I have so many wonderful memories here."

Shouto couldn't help but smile, the energy radiating off of her was contagious. "Mmm," he nodded. "You can tell you love it."

"I'm glad! I hope whatever is going on with your family doesn't ruin this place because it really is incredible," she said. "I'm trying not to let my parents get to me too much. Thankfully, Kyouka-chan is here. We met here actually, and we've been friends ever since. Both our families always come during winter break."

"That so?" he said, listening to her speak so excitedly about her favorite place.

"Mhm!" she nodded. "I love spending time with Kyouka-chan." She shut her eyes and pulled in a long breath of air. "But I also love being out on the mountain."

There was a time when he would've probably agreed. Though he had never been to this lodge specifically, being out on the slopes and skiing through the snow was important to him. He could actually connect with his mother when he was out in the snow, it felt like she was there, skiing right beside him.

But lately it was hard to feel nostalgic when his father was breathing down their necks, setting a schedule for their vacation. Did he expect them to have fun? He supposed that was probably what his father wanted, especially since he was wanting to 'play games'... though Shouto could only imagine what a disaster that would be.

"I used to love that, but this trip has been... nothing but a headache," he sighed, leaning forward against the railing.

"Ah? I-I'm sorry, Todoroki-san," Yaoyorozu said quickly. She bowed her head. "I can keep quiet so you can have a peaceful moment!"

"No," he chuckled, laughing at how quick she was to be nervous. "I already said I don't mind listening to you speak. Actually, hearing you talk so fondly of this place makes me... like it more."

"Really?!" she said, her dark eyes shimmering with excitement. She reached forward and grabbed his hands. "It really is amazing here. There's so much to do and the scenery is so calming and beautiful! And the food is also amazing. I-I mean you already ate at the best restaurant but-" She paused, as if she suddenly realized they were now holding hands. She jumped back a bit, running her gloved hands over the railing. "S-Sorry, Todoroki-san... I get so excited and since things have been a little stressful... I was happy to share fond memories!"

Cute.

Oh gosh, was she cute. He thought back to his father being so frustrated this girl could potentially be a distraction for him. Admittedly, Shouto had never thought too much about romance or girls... or any sort of relationships as he often kept to himself. He didn't have time to focus on other people, not with the intense study schedule his father often prepared for him.

But what if...

What if, just this once, he allowed himself the distraction?

He watched her for a moment, her gaze staring at her hands, as if she was so embarrassed she had accidentally held his hand for a short period of time.

"Please, Yaoyorozu-san, don't apologize. I like hearing you talk about... something you love."

'You look beautiful.' The words hung on the tip of his tongue. He barely knew her, and he couldn't just blurt these things out. She would probably look at him like he was some sort of creep.

"O-Oh..." she said, and giggled. "Well, what about you, Todoroki-san?" she asked, leaning against the railing. "What is something you love?"

He froze. Something he loved? What was... something he loved?

"Cold soba."

How lame. He mentally slapped his hand against his forehead. She was going to think he was some sort of idiot; he was certain she didn't mean what his favorite food was.

"Cold... soba?" she asked, tilting her head. She giggled softly, the sound echoing on the winter wind. It warmed him, even with the cool night air surrounding them.

"That... ah... uhm... " He turned away from her, not wanting her to see how his cheeks were currently as red as his left portion of hair.

"Soba is quite tasty so, I understand!"

She was just being nice.

"Sorry..." he mumbled. "That probably wasn't the answer you were expecting."

"Admittedly, no!" she laughed. "But it was... very endearing."

"...I suppose," he sighed. "It's... difficult for me to say what I really, truly love."

"I can assure you, Todoroki-san," Yaoyorozu smiled. "This is a very safe space." She placed her hand over her chest and stood up straight. "I swear, anything you tell me will not leave this rooftop deck."

His eye widened as he watched her.

 Cute!

It made his chest clench a little. Was this what it meant to have a crush?

It was a foolish feeling, since he most likely wouldn't see her after this vacation was over... and yet...

He didn't hate the way his heart fluttered when he looked at her.

He nodded his head at her. "Thank you, Yaoyorozu-san. It's not that I don't trust you." In fact, there was something very appealing about speaking to her. She didn't know him, had no bias towards him or his past or how he acted in school. However, he didn't want to make a complete fool of himself.

"Oh, I'm glad I seem trustworthy!" she smiled.

"Mhm," he nodded. "I suppose... it's hard for me to say it because I'm not sure what I love."

Her brow furrowed, looking at him with such concern. There was a part of him that regretted speaking up, because he much preferred when he was able to make her smile.

"Can I ask what you mean?" she said softly, her dark eyes waiting patiently for him to speak.

"My father," he began slowly, "he wants me to take over his company. He's a businessman. My whole life he's been pushing me. It's always been my only purpose."

"Your whole life?" she asked, gently prodding for more information, though nothing about her tone or demeanor was pushy.

"Mmm..." he nodded. "My eldest brother was sickly as a child and deemed unworthy. He's studying abroad now to be a doctor. My sister, as a woman, was not worthy to him... Natsuo, the brother you met, he is far too easily distractible and my father couldn't put up with it," he explained. "Then there was me, and I am being molded into his perfect little heir." There was a bite to his tone and he turned towards the railing, staring at the snow pooled on top of it.

He swallowed, wondering if he had said too much. It wasn't like him to speak about his family so freely, but Yaoyorozu made him feel so comfortable.

"Todoroki-san," she whispered, reaching over to place her gloved hand over his. "I'm so sorry. Is business something you're interested in?" she asked. Her voice was so genuine, and even through his glove, he could feel the gentle pressure and squeeze from her hand.

"I don't know. I've never been given the freedom to think about it," he admitted. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever even asked him a question like that.

"I see," she whispered. "Are there any... hobbies you have that you enjoy? Something you pull joy from?" she asked.

"Mmm." Shouto hummed softly. "I enjoy this. Skiing, I mean. Or I used to."

"What changed?" she asked.

Shouto froze, his heart suddenly throbbing in his ears. He knew exactly what changed, but the words were trapped in his throat. He couldn't just say it, could he?

 "It's your mother..."

 "She..."

"I..." He let out a soft breath, a heated cloud curling in the air in front of him. "I don't know," he lied.

"I see," she whispered. Maybe she could tell he wasn't giving her the full story, but she was far too polite to ask for any further details.

"What about you," he asked, changing the subject. Dwelling on his mother was never good for his mental state, and so far the majority of this trip had brought back nostalgic memories which made his heart ache. He didn't want to think about it, not when he was spending time with her. He had talked about himself far too much already.

"Me?" she gasped. "I-I... admittedly after hearing your story I feel a little foolish," she said.

"What? Please Yaoyorozu-san, that wasn't my intention," he urged.

"I-I know!" she said. "It's silly. My parents keep pressuring me to decide what I want to do with my future. I've been accepted to the university I wanted and unlike you, my father doesn't mind if I take a different path with my life... however, I know he wants me in a stable position. You should've heard him tonight," she laughed sadly. "Kyouka is a musician and he was very concerned I planned on following her."

"Ah, parents," Shouto sighed.

"Right?" she said, sighing along with him. "I actually really enjoy chemistry, but I have no idea if my father would approve. I don't know where exactly I can go and be a chemist. Maybe I could teach..." she babbled, nervously stroking the end of her hair between her gloved fingers. "It's overwhelming, to think about and consider your future. I was hoping this trip would be a nice break from it all, but almost every dinner my father brings it up."

They had opposite problems. Shouto was being forced into a set future, one he couldn't change, and Yaoyorozu was spiraling along an uncertain path, one she couldn't decide upon.

"I've mentioned it to Kyouka, but her family is so relaxed and supportive of her music, she tends to not understand why I don't just choose what I want," she continued. "While that's nice to think about, I worry my father won't approve."

"I understand," he nodded.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure it's not pleasant to hear about my horribly wishy-washy decisions."

"Please, pressure, regardless of what form, is never pleasant," he muttered. He knew this quite well.

"Thank you, Todoroki-san," she said, bowing to him. "I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me."

"Well thank you for doing the same," he chuckled, nodding. He did feel a bit guilty for speaking to her so much, but at the same time... she had been so open with him too. In a strange way, he felt she understood him.

"Perhaps we could... speak up here again sometime in the next week and a half," she said, a smile pulling across her features.

He would've spoken to her up here every night if he could.

"I would like that. You're right, it is very peaceful and calm up here."

"Mhm," she said and placed her finger against her lips. "It's a secret! But I'm happy to share it with you."

He bowed his head to her and chuckled. "I feel quite honored to know about it then."

She nodded and reluctantly pulled her hand away from his, realizing she still had it resting over his. "I-I do wish you could come to the party tomorrow night, but I understand your father is quite intense!" she sighed.

He clenched his hands around the railing. He wanted more than anything to come to the party and spend more time with her. "I'll... make it," he said. "I'll figure out a way to get away from him and-"

"Ah! Please don't get in trouble, Todoroki-san!" she said, her eyes shimmering with nervousness.

"I won't," he chuckled.

The two of them stayed on the roof for a bit longer, letting the night slowly wear on. For now they were free from their burdens, their families slept soundly while they spoke into the night, and Shouto knew he had to get to that party, no matter what.

~~

"Someone's glowing," Kyouka said, flopping onto Momo's bed. The two met up after skiing and showering the next day. The party was only a few hours away and the two girls had plans to get dinner and head over to the pool.

"Glowing?!" she gasped and slid the closet door open, searching through the clothes she hung up. "I-I don't know about that."

"Have you been texting with Todoroki?" she teased.

"Well..." she cleared her throat. "We actually spent some time together on the roof." She braced herself, ready for the reaction from her friend.

"What?! Yaoyorozu Momo, taking a boy up to her very special spot?!" Kyouka gasped, clutching her hand against her chest as she leaned forward on the bed.

"K-Kyouka! It wasn't a big deal. He was having a difficult time with his father and so I invited him up for some peace and quiet."

"Sure, sure," she nodded, folding her arms over her chest. "Peace and quiet, and then you proceeded to talk his ear off I assume."

Momo popped her head out of the closet, her cheeks bright red. "Oh gosh... I probably did talk too much!"

Kyouka scoffed. "I doubt you did, I was just making a joke."

"R-Right..." Momo sighed. "I don't know it was... pleasant. I think we sort of understood each other even though our problems are very different." She smiled, glancing towards her window as she pulled a sweater off of the hanger. "And he did say he was going to try and make it to the party tonight." She hummed, clutching the sweater to her chest as she rocked back and forth happily.

"Great. So are you ready to admit this crush you have on him?" Kyouka smirked, raising her eyebrow at her best friend.

"Huh?!" She froze. Admittedly, she had an amazing time on the roof last night. Besides Kyouka, she couldn't remember ever connecting with someone that fast. They spoke for so long and Todoroki admitted his love of soba noodles and his frustrations with his family. She too, had admitted her own frustrations, though hearing his did make her feel a little guilty.

She wanted to say she liked him. When she thought about him her heart fluttered and she couldn't stop smiling. But there was a gentle ache in her heart as well, reminding her that this vacation wouldn't be forever. As much as she and Kyouka had connected and kept in touch... a long distance relationship was extremely difficult, and Momo was about to head to university. She didn't need that sort of distraction.

"I already told you I would only admit it, if you admit your crush on Kaminari-san!" Momo continued, immediately changing the subject.

"What?! This has nothing to do with me and him!" Kyouka sputtered.

"When are you two going to ski together?" Momo teased.

"Uh, excuse you, he snowboards, which is why we won't be 'skiing' together," she said.

"Okay," Momo sighed dramatically. "When are you going to hit the slopes together?"

"Uh, never," Kyouka snorted.

"So you're ready to see him tonight then?" Momo asked, humming as she began to button up the red sweater around her white tank top.

"Whatever," Kyouka said, flopping back down onto the bed. "Who knows if we'll even talk."

"Didn't he say he would see you there?"

"Okay, Yaomomo, seeing something and actually talking to someone are two totally different things!" Kyouka said, staring up at the ceiling.

"Ah, right," Momo snorted, pulling her long dark hair up into a ponytail. "How could I ever possibly forget?"

"I don't know, but you have to trust me on this one," Kyouka explained.

"Right, you are the dating expert," Momo said, nodding at her friend.

"Between the two of us, I really am," Kyouka said. She pushed herself up and stretched. "We ready for dinner?"

"I don't understand why you're so hesitant to say you like Kaminari-san, you've never held back in the past," Momo asked, ignoring her question about dinner.

"I-I dunno!" Kyouka hummed. "He's... a nerd." She pursed her lips, and Momo could tell her friend knew it was a poor excuse.

"There's nothing wrong with nerds you know?" she huffed.

"You're fine, but... I dunno... he's just not my normal type."

"Maybe," Momo began, hooking her arm through Kyouka's, "that's a good thing!"

Kyouka sighed, grabbing her small bag. "Who knows..." She rolled her eyes and nudged Momo. "We'll have fun regardless."

"Of course!" Momo smiled. As much as she knew that was true, deep down there was a small part of her that hoped she would get a chance to see Todoroki there.

[iturbide]

Wait, fudge, my brain just thought of a thing with the idea of sending a prompt of Anankos and Mikoto; 22, since I'm sure both of them have some things to vent about in regards to the past. Though if you want an extra detail, idk, 49 would be amusing because the thought of Anankos getting a tight hug made me smile. Of course, doing just 22 is also fine; 49 is more for possible detail. (Also pretend Mikoto is properly in Heroes and is not just a dream only.)

you know what I love both of these?  But I also love the idea of them co-existing in close but not immediate proximity so I’m doing them in the opposite order ;D

Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

He slowly lowered his arms as the blinding light faded, squinting even still in the overly bright sunshine as he took in his surroundings.  They were strange.  Nothing at all like the dark confines of…of…

Where had he come from? 

His thoughts were jumbled.  Turning slowly around, he saw dark grey stone beneath his feet, etched with deep grooves worn smooth by the water that flowed through them.  There was a stone just before him, depicting a tree with branches interwoven about the hole at its center.  Beyond…there were fields.  Forests.  A sky, impossibly blue, with pale clouds scudding like wave caps overhead, and he turned to follow their progress…

“Hello.”

He blinked, looking down at the stranger in the gilt hood.  “…hello,” he repeated, his voice rasping from lack of use.  “Where…am I?”

“You’re in Askr,” the figure replied.  “I’m Kira–”

“As…kr?”  He did not know this place.  He should be in…in…not here.  Somewhere.  

“Askr,” the stranger agreed.  “It’s a kingdom in Zenith.  I’m Kiran.  Who are you?”

He thought for a moment, looking down at the stone beneath his feet and the water that flowed under his boots through the runes carved into its face.  Water was familiar.  It was…part of him?  No.  Yes?  It called to him, but told him nothing as it rippled and played in the light…

“Do you remember who you are?”

He frowned, looking down at his hands for a moment as memories tumbled in and out of focus.  Water.  Darkness.  A song.  Rage.  Pain.  Grief.  A city in ruins.  A city thriving.  And he above it all, watching over them…

“I am…the forgotten god.  The Silent Dragon.  Anankos.”

The stranger…Kiran…smiled beneath their hood.  “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Why am I here?” Anankos asked.  He should not be.  He knew that.  But he did not know where he should be.  Only that…he did not want to be there, and the thought of going back filled him with dread…

“I Summoned you,” Kiran explained.  “It’s…okay, it’s kind of hard to explain, but…how about we go inside?  There’s gonna be a lot to fill you in on about the situation here and…”

His attention drifted as the stranger spoke.  But he followed when they turned, moving away from the platform and through a softly glowing arch, feeling magic flow along his skin as he crossed into a bright castle foyer filled with strangers.  Some looked up at his arrival; most spared not even a glance.  “All these people are Heroes,” Kiran said, gesturing to the unknown faces.  “And so are you, here in Askr.”

He frowned at that.  “I am…not a hero.”

The hooded figure touched his arm.  “You can be, though.  That’s what’s great about this place.  You can be a Hero, if you want.”

…what did he want?  

He could not remember.  His mind was chaos: screams of pain, joyous laughter, crushing grief, aching guilt, a song…a song…

“Anankos?”

The familiar voice stopped his heart. 

The memories washed over him: kind laughter as he tried and failed to snatch a fish from the pond bare-handed and fell into the shallow waters, a fond smile as he tried to recite a verse from memory and jumbled up the words, eyes that sparkled like the sun on the water and hair like a river flowing through the night and soft hands that held his own eternally cold ones and tried to share their warmth…

“Mikoto…?”

He turned toward the source in time to see her sprinting toward him, a roil of white robes and sea green ribbons.  And then her arms were around him, crushing the breath from him as only the deepest reaches of the darkest sea had ever done before. 

But she was laughing.  He could hear it on the air, and even without air, he felt his own mirth rippling through him as he folded his beloved – his wife – within his embrace for the first time in far too long. 

Listening to them while they vent.

Mikoto had grown quiet, of late.  She had been so lively at the time of their reunion, had taken him around the castle and grounds, shown him all the wonders this strange land of Askr had to offer.  She had accompanied him here and there on various missions, helping to guide him when he lost his way, until at last he began to settle into something like routine…

And with that familiarity came silence.  But not a kind one.  A heavy one, oppressive, like a storm hanging in the sky that had yet yet to unleash a downpour.  He could feel the unspoken words in the air, thick and choking in the uncomfortable stillness as they walked side by side, but not together. 

He did not understand. 

But he remembered, now, so many of the things he’d once lost.  He remembered her, their time together, her laughter and her lessons both…

He drew a breath, low and soft, rippling through the silent hallway.  “What troubles you?”

“What makes you imagine I am troubled?” she replied airily (but her tone chilled him like a wintery gale). 

“There are things you do not say,” he said.  “You do not need to keep your silence.  That is but my name: it is not what I demand.”

She did not laugh.  She did not smile.  She looked at him with icy eyes, and he felt the rumble of the approaching storm…but rather than retreat, he met her gaze, waiting for the hail to fall.

“You abandoned us.”

The first words dealt a heavy blow, and he nearly staggered beneath the weight of them.  “You said you were sending us away, for our safety, and I believed that.  With all my heart, I wanted to believe that – even without seeing Gyges again, I knew there were horrors rising as we fled, and every night I prayed that you would find your way safely back to us.  For years I prayed, every night, that you would return to us.  Even when the Hoshidans took us in.  Even when their king offered me a place at his side as queen and consort.  I still prayed every night that you would find your way to the gates and return to us…”

Her voice trembled, her hands curling into fists at her sides.  “And then our child was stolen.  And that’s when I stopped praying.  I’d feared for so long that you might never find your way to us, but I fought so hard to stay strong, to keep heart…but we lost everything.  I lost two husbands and my child to that exile, and now you simply appear here as though nothing at all has happened – now, when I so long ago lost the heart to pray!?”

Blood dripped from her trembling fists. 

He reached out to her, taking one of her hands and coaxing her fingers to uncurl.  Her delicate nails had dug deep into her palms, though thankfully the cuts were shallow…

Something dripped onto the marks as he leaned over them.

“I am sorry,” he breathed, and his words cracked like rime.  “I wanted to return to you.  I tried with all I had – I sought to protect you, to protect Corrin, from that horror that destroyed Valla, but…it claimed me.  All you lost was by my hand.  I am sorry I did not join you.  I am sorry, Mikoto.  I…”

Her other hand reached up to touch his cheek.  Something crept down his cheek as he lifted his head to meet her eye, and he tasted salt when it settled at the corner of his mouth.  “Why are you crying?” she asked, her voice no louder than the murmur of rain. 

He blinked, dislodging another tear as yet more welled to take their places.  “I left you to raise a child alone in an unknown land.  I could not stop that very child’s loss.  I caused you so much pain.  You suffered for my actions.  You had no reason to treat me kindly.  And yet you did.”

The words did not come easy.  But words so rarely had.  And he knew he had to speak them now, though his voice betrayed him, splintering as pack ice in the silence.  “I do not ask forgiveness of you.  I could not.  I have caused you too much grief.  But still, you called to me.  You brought me back to myself.  I owe you…I owe you everything and more.  I want to give you peace, and happiness – if I must leave to do so I will without protest–”

“Gods, you’re such a fool,” she hiccoughed. 

His breath hitched as she smiled at him, brushing tears from her own eyes.  “Haven’t you listened to a word I said?  You leaving caused this whole mess in the first place.”

“But…but after…I-I could hurt you again, I…”

“Running away isn’t going to make anything better,” she sighed.  “You need to stay.  How else can you get close to your family again, if you leave?”

Struggling to breathe, he clasped her warm fingers in his cold hands.  “You would…we could be…family again?” he whispered. 

She sighed, patting his knuckles with her free hand.  “You have a child.  A grandchild.  You can’t be part of their lives if you run away.  But it’s been a long time.”

He felt an ache in his heart, unlike any he had ever known.  But he knew, too, that this was the way it should be.  “Might we…be friends again, at least?”

At last, the light returned to her eyes, shimmering like sunlight on the waves.  “I would be glad for it, Hydra.”

How long had it been since he had been called by that name?  How long since he had heard her speak it with such warmth?  He opened his arms in silent invitation…

And she moved to embrace him, her warmth chasing away the cold fear as he lay his cheek against her hair. 

[tentoriwrites]

Time-Scattered Blossoms: Part One

This is whole thing ended up right at 10k words. That is WAY too big for one post so it’s going up in at least two, possibly three parts. I will post the rest as I finish editing it. Speaking of, I make no guarantees the editing on this is any good. At a certain point, it all runs together. ^_^;

THIS IS SUPER SPOILER HEAVY FOR SHINGEN’S ROUTE

Inspired by this part of Shingen’s route, Backstreet Boys - Unmistakable, and Skillet - Watching for Comets

That’s right, this is a 10k long songfic! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Was it chance or fate that caused Yukimura to find her that day? The longer he knows her the stronger the feeling grows he’s made a promise to someone to protect her. That she’s waiting for someone, they both are...

One. Two. Three. Does he love me? Or does he love me not? Remember or forgot? Four. Five. Six. Will time fix, a broken heart, when time tore it apart Seven. Eight. Nine. Will love ever be mine? And ten. If so, when?

She recited the poem as she plucked the petals one by one from a flower in her small hands. She finished with one petal remaining and a bright smile on her face. A pair of teenage boys sauntered up behind her snickering. One of them plucked the flower out of her hand and crushed it in his fist while the other kicked her book bag. The contents spilled out and skid across the pavement.

“Didn't anyone tell you, you can't predict anything with a stupid flower?” One jeered, a wicked chuckle under his breath after saying so. On the other side of the park, another boy took notice. Something about seeing the events unfolding caused his chest to get tight with anger. His hands coiled into fists as he got to his feet.

“And what exactly are we doing, Dear?” Saizo asked disinterested as the boy passed him by.

“Isn't it obvious? I can’t sit by and let them bully her!” He declared as he marched forward. He knew he couldn't explain it. Even if he could, Saizo had no reason to believe him if he said something in his very soul told him had to protect this girl. It was something so strong it caused him to move, caused him to speak without even thinking. There was something intensely familiar about her, intensely comforting. Like she was home, or part of it. Like, she had always been a part of his life. Which is why watching one of them push her out of her seat set him over the edge. He didn't need courage to call out to the delinquents, courage meant he was afraid. No, in that moment he didn't feel afraid, he felt anger and an odd sense of purpose.

“Didn't anyone ever teach you not to pick on girls like that?” The stern voice that called out, accompanied by cracking knuckles was not the boy she expected. She had thought it would be her friend, an older boy named Inuchiyo, mean mugging the older boys. To her surprise it was a boy she'd never seen before. He was older than her, but not as old as the boys antagonizing her. The older boys didn't seem to pay him much mind.

“Oh, and are you going to teach us a lesson?”

“Damn right I am!” Suddenly, a hand clapped over his shoulder.

“And if he doesn't, I sure as hell will.” The voice beside him growled, low and threatening.

“Toshiie...”

“Damn right, Toshiie. And this is my martial arts junior, Yukimura.” He went on pressing forward. “He's never understood how to hold back.” He slowly cracked individual knuckles with each step he took. “Then again, neither have I...”

“Hey... We don't want any trouble...” The delinquents were back pedaling now. Hands shaking and voices quaking as the school's martial arts champion and his protege drew closer.

“If you didn't want any trouble, you shouldn't go around bullying others.” Yukimura growled, stopping next to the girl.

“Especially not my family friend...”

“We... we didn't know!” They were tripping over themselves as they tried to back away faster.

“It doesn't matter! You shouldn't be bullying anyone. Now, get out of here and if I ever see you screwing with people again you'll regret it!” The delinquents scampered away and Toshiie turned back to Yukimura and the girl. Yukimura looked deeply distressed as he tried awkwardly to sooth the crying girl.

“Geez, you always were a crybaby...” Toshiie sighed in exasperation but his face was nothing but fond. He helped her up to her feet again. “Skinned your knees, huh?” She nodded as she wiped the tears from her face. “It's not too bad.”

“That's not why I'm crying!” She blurted out in frustration. “They said there's no such thing as true love and I'll die an old, gray. lonely woman!” She sniffled looking like she might burst out crying again.

“You're not going to end up alone.” Both boys spoke in near unison, with equal measure of resolution. Toshiie looked at Yukimura incredulously.

“You just met her, how would you know?” He wilted under the gaze of his superior.

“I... just... I have this feeling, ya know?” He knew there was no way he could explain it to Toshiie either when he didn't even fully understand it himself.

“A feeling he says...” Toshiie sighed in exasperation as he bent down to start picking up the girl's scatter belongings. “Well anyways,” he looked over to the girl, “whaddya say we take Yukimura here to the restaurant to meet Mom, Pops, and Yahiko?” She sniffled one last time, gave her face one last good swipe of her hands, and nodded.

Several years passed and she came to be good friends with Yukimura. Somehow, he had an almost as inexplicable sense for when she might be in danger as Toshiie. As they got older, Toshiie went off to college leaving Yukimura the task of protecting her. Though he had been asked, Yukimura would have done so anyways.

“You can count on me, Toshiie! I promise on my honor as a man I will protect her! And Sanada Yukimura never breaks his promises!” Though he had said it so enthusiastically, something in the back of his mind gave him pause. A nag saying maybe he didn’t always keep his promises. He brushed it off as a bit of anxiety over his friend leaving and went on.

The passage of time made the feelings he had around her no less explainable. A new one had started to coalesce that seemed to be related to them though. A feeling like he was waiting for someone, he had to get her back to someone. Someone important to them both. He never talked about it though, not until one day at the restaurant she broached a topic he never would have thought to discuss.

“Yukimura... Would you, I don't know, want to go out sometime? Like on a date?” Her straightforward question made his body stiffen and cheeks redden.

“I... um... well...” He stammered and fumbled for words and she giggled. The smile on her face told him she didn't understand the cause of his distress. Realizing that, he knew he had to be honest with her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steel his resolve and calm his nerves.

“I never considered the possibility.” She looked utterly crushed, he knew she would. “From the day I met you I knew there was someone out there for you. Someone truly great and strong. I know I'm not that person.” Her brows furrowed as a memory came back to her. A memory from when they first met, the resolve in his eyes when he said she wouldn't end up alone.

“It probably sounds crazy... but...” He looked away, eyes clouded with doubt. “For a long time I felt like I had to protect you, because I made a promise...”

“And Sanada Yukimura never breaks his promises...” She finished for him with a troubled smile. “If it's a promise you don't remember making, can you really say you're still honor bound to it?” That was the problem... The thing he couldn't explain. He did remember and he didn't at the same time.

“It's like a dream you know you had but don't quite remember when you wake up. It's a feeling like something happened and you should know what it was. No matter how hard you try though, you can't.” His eyes never could hold a lie, they were clear and earnest as he spoke. It was obvious to her now he honestly believed what he was saying, no matter how crazy it might seem. She smiled softly at him as she slid her hand across the table, laying it atop his.

“I know how I feel when I'm around you, Yukimura. I feel like you're meant to be in my life. You feel like...” She paused for a moment trying to find the right word.

“Home.” They both finished in unison, both looked at each other shocked. Blushing they promptly looked in opposite directions.

“If... If by some chance you ever change your mind. I would much rather grow old and die with you than alone.”

“You're not going to die alone.” His answer was no less resolute than it had been all those years before.

Shingen stood looking out over the city from the balcony of his hotel room. He idly plucked the petals from a flower he had taken from the arrangement inside. One by one he pulled them out and watched them flutter away, caught on the breeze, carried off to parts unknown.

“You know girls used to play a game doing that. Pull the petals off one by one chanting 'he loves me, he loves me not.' If the last petal you plucked said he loved you, it had to be true.” A woman’s voice interjected itself into his early morning musings. “That couldn't possibly be what you're doing, is it?” The indignity in her voice irritated him, her demeaning laugh infuriated him. “Let's not fool ourselves, shall we? There's not a single romantic bone in your body. So, why delude yourself with such foolish notions as true love?”

“If I were playing the game you described, that would imply there was someone I hoped loved me, would it not? Perhaps you brought it up hoping it was you?” The tiger bore its fangs, but she simply smiled and shook her head.

“I have no need for your love as long as you keep giving me your body.” She replied so self-assuredly it made him sick as she ran a finger down his arm in a languid stroke. “Besides, we'll be married before long anyways. Love or not...” Those words left a knot in his stomach he didn't like but couldn't explain.

She had once been his friend and confidante but over time they had grown apart. Now all she was to him was someone to warm his bed he knew wouldn't try to blackmail him later. Their parents had arranged for them to wed to bring their family businesses together. At the time, a year ago, he had agreed to it because he had been able to force down the vague sense of wanting something more out of a marriage. He justified it as his duty to his family. But the vague feeling of wanting something more grew each time they interacted.  Someone who could do more than only warm his bed. Someone who could also warm his heart.

“Anytime, anywhere, anyplace. You could be anyone today. Maybe I would recognize you on a crowded street...” He muttered as he continued to stand there, watching the people scurry to and fro, flower in hand, when a different kind of chant filled his mind. Recalled from his childhood... or maybe a time much further away.

One. Two. Three. Does he love me? Or does he love me not? Remember or forgot? Four. Five. Six. Will time fix, a broken heart, when time tore it apart? Seven. Eight. Nine. Will love ever be mine? And ten. If so, when?

He looked down at the one petal remaining, recalling that meant he was destined to find love. He laughed in self-deprecation because for one moment he allowed himself to believe in a childhood oracle. Surely his betrothed was right about that, such things had no place in their world. And yet... Why couldn't he let go off the hope the thought of true love kindled in his heart?

“You have a meeting with your Father in an hour.” Kansuke's voice pulled Shingen from his thoughts. The remnants of the flower slipped from his hand as he turned back towards the door.

“This marriage is a bad idea.” Kansuke said as if he knew what was on his employer’s mind.

“We've been over this before.” His answer was firm, firmer than his own feelings on the matter. Kansuke couldn't know that. No one could. The pair glared at each other, if one could call Kansuke’s nigh emotionless expression a glare, for several moments before Kansuke turned and disappeared into the hotel room again.

 The room where Shingen and his Father sat was richly furnished with dark wood pieces and deeply colored rugs contrasted against white marble floors. Bookshelves lined the high walls on one side, flanked on one end of the room by a pair of massive double doors and wide fireplace on the other. A fired burned in the fireplace bringing much needed warmth to the chill atmosphere of the room.

No more than a month prior, his father had announced Shingen would be marrying a childhood friend. It was a last-ditch effort on his Father's part to save their company. He had been unsuccessful in his attempts to consolidate power within the company and impose his vision on it. Shingen knew this all too well. At the same time, he wasn't willing to toss his hat in the ring just yet and try to take the reins. He certainly could, being the CEO's son, but he was on the cusp of graduating college and unproven. He had to get some experience under his belt, some supporters behind him.

Understanding the arranged marriage didn't make him anymore willing to go through with it. The older they got the more their relationship had devolved to small talk turned to sex and little more. If she walked out of his life completely, he would wish her well, but wouldn't miss her. He knew little of romance, that was true, but he knew you should probably at least miss the person you're married to when they were gone.

“You're quiet.” His father finally called after taking a puff of a cigar. Shingen turned his gaze from one of the massive windows and the snow falling outside to look at his father.

“I was thinking about something...” His response was passive, indifferent. He didn't want to be there, he'd rather be outside skiing and find himself a nice snow bunny to warm his bed in a cabin far away.

“About the engagement?” His father seemed hardly any more interested in the conversation than Shingen was. He leaned back in his chair and peered at the fire.

“Yes.” Shingen moved from the window to sit in one of the over-sized leather armchairs by the fire. “I have reservations.”

“It's not too late to add something to the pre-nup. You haven't signed it yet.”

“Nothing like that.” He answered with a low tone, eyes trained on the dancing flames. His father quirked an eyebrow at him, a knowing scowl on his face. He extinguished the cigar before picking up a glass of dark liquor and drinking all of it down. He huffed out his next breath to suppress the burn of the liquor from coming out in his voice.

“Then what is it?” The elder Takeda wondered with no small measure of irritation in his voice.

“When was the last time you saw your wife?” Shingen's step-mother had been a marriage of convenience, much like his would be if he went through with it.

“We had dinner a few weeks ago.”

“And before that?” His grip on the arms of the chair tightened to keep his expression from changing.

“A few months. I can't really recall.” His father got up, waving his hand as if the motion would dispel Shingen's train of thought. “Look, I know where this is going. You have known this girl your whole life. You even dated for a few years there.”

“There's a reason we aren't dating anymore.”

His Father pressed on, rolling right over Shingen's interjection as if he had never said it at all. He had a habit of that, sometimes, to just ignore what those around him were saying even if the advice was good.

“Why the sudden change? If there's someone else, it's fine as long as you keep it and them quiet.” He said it as if it were nothing, the simplest thing. It made Shingen's blood boil from the sheer inability to reconcile what he was hearing. Why would he marry someone he didn't care about and keep the person he did care about as a mistress? He got to his feet and turned toward the door, so his Father wouldn't see his trembling hands.

“If I wanted to marry her, I would have proposed myself.”

“It would be bad publicity to call this off now.”

“I'm not calling it off, but I'll be making my own decisions from now on.” He heard his Father start to say something, but it was abruptly cut short by the heavy thunk of the old wooden door shutting.

Later that evening, Shingen sat in his apartment, sweat dripping face as he sat in his workout room panting. A shadow appeared from the corner and offered him a towel.

“Thanks, Kansuke.”

“Are you sure going through with the engagement is the correct thing to do?” Kansuke's level voice questioned him but his face revealed nothing.

“It's what's expected of me.” Shingen answered simply enough as he wiped the sweat from his body.

“The Harunobu I knew wouldn't do something simply because it was expected of him.” Shingen's gaze shifted to where Kansuke had been standing. “He would do it with a purpose.”

“What did you call me?” The question left as lips as he turned but Kansuke was already gone. He sat on the bench staring at his hands a moment as a warm and familiar feeling settled in his chest. There was something about Kansuke calling him that name felt... right... Like that's the way it should have been all along. Once the feeling passed, he was left with the confusion of what Kansuke meant. The more he ruminated on it the more he decided what he was going to do moving forward. First, he needed out of this engagement.

Part Two

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Son Of Scheherazade, 12

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editors Drucilla and BlueShifted who deserve all the appreciation in the world, honestly, I don't deserve 'em.

I actually had no idea what to make the challenge until it was time to write it, and my editors gave me some really helpful suggestions. I was very tempted to put some YuGiOh jokes in there =P Anyway, think of this as the end of Part One of our journey - we're finally off to find the parents!

Summary: It's Mickey versus Daisy in a game of wit and gifts! Can Mickey find a way to defeat a mind-reader, or will he lose the woman he loves?

Pete didn't have fond memories of his mother – he didn't have fond memories of anyone. But as he laid there with his swollen ankles, his aching stomach, and the stinging cuts on his face, he decided that the kind touch to his head was indeed motherly. His head lay in Sultana Scheherazade's lap, with her fingers tenderly stroking him as if he was her young son that was now far away. She was humming a soft melody, probably a lullaby from Mickey's baby days. Sultan Al sat with his wife, their backs together, his eyes on the only light in the wide, open cell. A small, square hole was several feet above them, impossible to reach, yet had three solid bars attached to it as if to further mock the prisoners. Sunlight was slowly leaving, and soon it would be night. Then the terrors would begin anew.

Scheherazade accidentally touched one of Pete's cut ears, and he flinched in pain, growling. “My apologies,” she said gently as she pulled her hand back. “I do not know why our captor tortures you so... but never give up hope.” She smiled serenely, never losing her beauty even in the worst of tragedies. “My son will come for us, and every day he is but one step closer to our rescue. Even now, he will gain an ally who will help him find this cursed kingdom.”

Pete grunted, but he didn't pull away. Even if he wanted to, he lacked the strength. “How can you know that?” But this was a question he knew the answer to. It was why he was there.

She resumed petting him. “In the town of Maelumat, they have found a girl with the gift. Once my son has claimed victory, she will be able to lead him where he needs to go.”

The Sultan thumped a fist to his chest. “She won't stand a chance! There is no son more clever than ours.”

Pete doubted this – sons of fools were fools themselves. Footsteps echoed off in the distance, and Scheherazade's kind touch now became tight, her warm eyes now ice cold. Sultan Al tried to get to his feet, but he was losing strength day by day. The footsteps came closer, and the door to the dungeon cell flew open. Spirals of inky black smog wrapped around Pete's feet, dragging him out – his fingers dug into the ground, Scheherazade tried to grab him, and Al struggled to chase the attacker. But as with every night, these attempts failed. The cell door slammed shut once Pete was gone, and he was lost to the darkness.

“Wretch!” Scheherazade screamed, rising to her feet, grabbing the iron bars and shaking them. “You wretch! You will never win, do you hear me? This kingdom of yours will never be what you desire!”

Even though they couldn't see a body, a chilling voice spoke in the dark. “I will have your son... and you will obey me, Lady Scheherazade. One way or another, you will do as I command.”

At the mention of her child, Scheherazade's screams became more frantic. “I will never tell you where he is! Never, not even if you put me to death! You will rue the day you ever thought of harming a single hair on his head! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE MY CHILD!” At this last shout, she broke into tears, and her husband took her into his arms, ashamed that he had no words to console her. All he had now was his faith, the faith in his son to win his game and become closer to freeing his loved ones.

Although right now, he was one of the few people who actually had that faith.

~*~

Not that the members of Goofy's crew weren't trying to have faith in Mickey – it was just becoming a difficult task. While they waited for the appointed time, Mickey paced everywhere his feet could go, struggling to think of strategies against the supernatural. What if he tried to meditate and empty his mind? Or concentrate on something else to block his thoughts? Or just tried to think of a song that would get stuck in his head? Minnie offered the obvious idea of using a wish, but to no one's surprise, it was immediately shot down. He didn't want to abuse Minnie in order to save Minnie. Then there was the biggest bother of them all, his pride, which he didn't tell anyone as he once more walked into the bar when the stars began to decorate the sky.

Mickey's pride had taken a severe blow thanks to Lotus Blossom, and here was a chance to restore what was left. If he wanted to prove he was more than just the Son of Scheherazade, this was the right opportunity for it. He'd have to use his brains to win the day – if only his brain didn't keep saying “I'm doomed” over and over again. He expected his adventures to be full of sword-fights and monsters, not games of wit. The bar was nearly empty, save for the last waitresses heading up a staircase behind the bar, though Mickey couldn't see where it led to. He advanced onward to where he saw Daisy leave before, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

It was Donald. “I know you can do it, Mickey.”

Mickey squeezed his hand in appreciation. “Thanks, Donald...you wouldn't happen to know how I can do it, do you?”

“Heck no. I'd have given up right away.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at that needless honesty, and that's when Panchito burst through their moment of friendship. “Have no worries, amigo! Jose and I have a brilliant idea to help you win the day!”

Jose took his cue from Panchito, suddenly and elaborately moving his arms and hands about. “We'll signal to you and let you know what she's doing! For example, if the challenge is the mischievous game of poker, and she has a queen of hearts, we'll do this!” He and Panchito then performed an absolutely nonsensical dance that had nothing at all to do with hearts, queens, or common sense.

“Uh... thanks, guys, we'll see how that works out.” Mickey drew out his words of gratitude, his last remaining optimism dying. He glanced at his elders, hoping to find some advice or well-wishes, but Goofy, Clarabelle and Horace were all equally nervous, not even able to look Mickey in the eye. They noticed his troubled glare, and gave a trio of shaky thumbs-up. “... Gee, guys, tone it down, or I'll be bursting with confidence.” His sarcasm dripped from his mouth, his entire body now sagging with uncertainty.

Mickey almost didn't bother looking at Minnie, thinking she'd be just as hopeless, but it turned out that she was staring at him with such intensity that he felt he'd melt into the floor. She looked him straight in the eyes, with no quiver to her tiny frame or wringing of her wrists. “You will win, Master,” she said without a doubt in her voice. “You must believe it, and believe in yourself.”

“That's easier said than done,” Mickey admitted, the door to Daisy's room now looking scarier than the open mouth of a shark. “I know that if I think about losing, I'll be sunk, but it's hard to think about anything else.”

Minnie glanced away, then back to him, her cheeks suddenly taking on a reddish hue. She had an idea to distract him – for her freedom! That's what this was about! Certainly nothing else. “Well... what if I gave you something to think about? Something that would make you positive you could win?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet doubtful. “Shoot, I'd take anything at this point. Whaddya got?”

Minnie jabbed her pointer finger to his chest. “Just remember, this is to build up your confidence. That's all. Don't go thinking it means anything more than that. I am a genie, and it is my duty to help my Master in all ways.” She was really more saying it to herself than him, and even then she didn't quite believe it. Regardless of all her silly logic, she leaned in and did it anyway.

She quickly kissed his cheek.

~*~

Within her room, Daisy was making the final arrangements for the challenge. Despite her domineering attitude, her quarters were very messy. Piles of both washed and unwashed clothes lay here and there, with won jewelries lazily stacked on tilted tables. Everything was done haphazardly – a colorful carpet was partially rolled, artwork was hung crookedly, and there was a smell that was possibly old food that had been forgotten about. It made for a startling contrast to the prim and proper beauty that sat at a round table in the middle of the room. She was wearing new trinkets and new make-up, her white hair now rolling down her arm, her pet snake nestled within her braid. The table was covered with a red sheet, with two cups of water. Daisy sat in a wooden chair, quietly shuffling a deck of cards, waiting for her opponent who would sit in the opposite one.

Above her was a shabbily-made balcony, made for the sole purpose of watching Daisy's challenges. She was specifically had it installed so people could come see her taken down challengers, her ego inflated with each face in the crowd. Waitresses and bar patrons were trying to get a good view, eager to see how this would go down, yet also feeling pity for her latest victim. No doubt he was getting ready to lick his wounds and go home crying to mama.

The door smashed open. “BRING IT ON, LADY!” Mickey shouted in a deliriously cheerfully loud boom. “I AM THE SON OF SCHEHERAZADE AND I CAN'T BE BEAT! I AM GUNNA BEAT YOU SIX WAYS 'TIL TUESDAY! AHAHAHAHAHA!” Some of the audience almost fell off the balcony in shock. What could have given him such maddening confidence?

Behind him, Minnie buried her face in her hands, embarrassed beyond belief. “Please make him stop.”

Mickey marched into the room, unable to stop grinning, and he slammed his hands on the table. “I AM GOING TO WIN, AND YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME ABOUT MY PARENTS, AND THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT, MISSY!” Thank goodness Minnie had only kissed his cheek. Had she gone for the lips, he might have completely lost his mind.

Daisy, all the while, was unimpressed. She didn't even bother looking up as she continued to shuffle and reshuffle. “That was some kiss she gave you.”

“YOU BET IT WAS, AND SHE... how... did...” Like a balloon losing it's air, Mickey's voice lost its loudness as he looked behind him. The door had been shut, so how did Daisy know there had been a kiss – unless she read his mind? “Uh. Oh boy.” Talk about knocking the wind out of his sails – she capsized the entire boat.

Daisy lightly waved her hand towards the group. “Speaking of which, I'll need all of you joining the crowd upstairs. No need for cheaters.”

Panchito snapped his fingers in frustration. “Dang, and we just came up with a new set of hand-signals!  Maybe we can sing him clues!” Jose began to hum in agreement.

Donald grabbed each bird by the arm and dragged them away. “If you ask me, a mind-reader is the biggest cheat of them all.”

“Good luck,” said Horace before he left.

“You're gunna need it,” said Clarabelle before she left.

Goofy lightly picked up Minnie in his arms. “All righty, let's head up before you smooch him again and he starts bringing the house down.”

“I DIDN'T KISS HIM BECAUSE I WANTED TO,” Minnie objected with a very loud lie, and the entire group made their way to the balcony as quickly as their feet could take them. Within a minute, they had shoved and pushed their way into the audience, with everyone trying to get a good look at the action.

With a heavy sigh, Mickey took his place at the table. “Now or never, I guess... what's the challenge?”

Daisy finally stopped shuffling, and held up one of the cards – on the one side was a blue and white checkered pattern. On the other was an illustration of an angelic woman, her arms open in grace, with billowing white robes and blonde hair masking her face. “In the west,” Daisy said, laying the card face-up, “there is a belief in beings called angels, who will lead the good to their paradise in the skies above. But there is also the belief in beings called demons, who will take you down to the underworld below. They hide in crowds of angels to lead sinners to their downfall.”

She then pulled out another card and laid it down – it was another angel, but this one was playing a harp, her head bowed in modesty. “In this deck, every angel has a match, but there is only one demon. We start with five cards. Each turn, you have three choices – match and discard the ones in your hand, pick a new card from the deck, or take one from your opponent.” She flipped another card down – it matched the first open-armed angel. “The game stops when one player is stuck with the demon, and is damned to the fiery pits below.”

“This sounds like Old Maid,” Goofy quipped.

“No, it's totally different and exotic and well-thought-out,” Donald whispered.

Daisy took the cards back and shuffled them back onto the deck. “This is your last chance to turn back, your highness. Give me the lamp willingly, and I'll tell you what you want to know... or you can lose the lamp, and your last chance at finding your parents.” She smiled sweetly, as if she wasn't driving a knife into his heart. “Is it really that hard a choice?”

Mickey glared as hard as he could manage, trying to hide his fears about his choices. “Deal me in, Daisy.”

“Suit yourself. Can't say I didn't warn you,” Daisy chirped pleasantly, and she doled out five cards to each of them, placing the deck between them. “As my first and last gesture of fair play, I'll let you go first.”

Mickey looked at the cards in his hands. Two angels were reading a book, one was playing the flute, one was the open-armed woman, and the last had the harp. This was a new game to him in many ways – his father preferred physical games, like playing tag and hide and seek. His mother was always inventing new games with her creative genius. But since he didn't have the demon, maybe things were off to a good start. “I pair.” He slid out the two book-readers and placed them beside the deck.

“I'll take from the deck,” Daisy swiftly took a card into her hand.

“I'll do the same.” This angel was taking a nap on a fluffy cloud.

“I pair.” And so the game went on peacefully for several turns. At first, it was dreadfully boring for the audience above. Some began to nod off.

Mickey's confidence began to return card by card. What was so challenging about this? Shoot, he could beat a child in this game! He glanced at Daisy, who took a sip of water and seemed the same as ever. He fought off a smirk. Maybe she was going easy on him and needed to put on a front for her customers – he could stand a little bit of babying if it meant he got what he needed! “I'll take from the deck.”

And he took the demon.

Even a person without mind-reading powers could have guessed this, judging from Mickey's wide eyes and the huge bite on his lower lip as if he was suppressing the urge to yelp in shock. Daisy chuckled quietly, fanning herself with her hand of cards. “Oh good, things are finally getting interesting!”

“Th-the game's not over yet,” Mickey stammered, trying to believe it himself. He now had six cards in his hand – the napping angel was still with him, an angel listening to a seashell, a pair of angels picking petals off flowers, one kneeling in prayer and lastly, the demon itself – a snarling dark entity with a man's face but goat horns, wearing a gray cloak and holding a scythe in its claws. He shuffled the small bundle in his hands, trying to think.

“I think I'll take sleeping beauty from you,” Daisy said, and she reached over, plucking the napper away.

Mickey froze. He hadn't even finished shuffling, yet she knew what was where! When did she start using her powers? Had she ever even stopped? “I... I'll take from the deck!” But as he reached over, he saw how small the deck was – when the game had started, it seemed like an endless deck. As a result, Mickey kept pulling, pairing, pulling, pairing, and now he could guess there were maybe twenty left. Very soon, it would just be a matter of picking between their hands. Had she planned it all along?

“I decided to go easy on you,” Daisy answered him, and Mickey almost jumped out of his seat. “You seemed to really need a boost of self-esteem after that pretty thief played with your heart. Shame you never got that kiss. I hoped it would've been worth something.”

Mickey slowly took the new card in his hands. “That was then, and this is now. I won't be fooled again!” Maybe if he shuffled them faster, she wouldn't know where the demon was, and he watched his own hands shuffle as quickly as they could.

“You have a pair of horn players on your right,” Daisy chimed in, still perfectly pleasant. “I mean, I could tell you how the entire game is going to go piece by piece, but maybe that would make things a little boring. And I can't stand boring things.” She reached over to pluck away one of the horns players. “Thankfully for me, your head is full of excitement. Daring adventures, new lands, it's all very thrilling...” She lifted her eyes from the cards to his face. “Except for you, poor dear. You are exceptionally, sadly, and undoubtedly dull. ”

Mickey swiftly took a new card from the deck. Even though they were going to run out of cards soon, he felt he couldn't afford to put any pairs down. If he had more cards, maybe it would buy more time. He bit his lip, trying not to say anything, trying not to rise to her bait, no matter how angry he got. “It can't be easy, being the Son of Scheherazade. Mom's got all the fame, and what have you got? A sword you barely know how to use? A flying carpet that doesn't obey you? Oh, by the way, your current strategy isn't going to work.” She placed a pair down.

Mickey could feel his heart beating faster, and he stared down at the cards in his hands. The demon stared back at him, and for a second Mickey thought he heard it laughing cruelly. He noticed that while the background of the demon's scenery was plain white, just like all the other cards, there was the tiniest of smears down in the left corner, a hint of gray. He didn't know why he picked up on such an inconsequential detail when there were more important things to worry about. He picked another card from the deck. Less than fifteen cards remained in the deck. How could he make her choose the demon?

“The demon will never belong to me,” Daisy answered for him, making his nerves extra jumpy. “I'll always know what you have because I'll always know what you know. I know everything about everyone. I know that Clarabelle can't fix her nail-biting habit, I know that Jose is running out of cigars, I know that you're panicking.” She chuckled quietly, taking sheer delight in Mickey's frustration. “Maybe it's a good thing you won't rescue your parents. They'd probably be disappointed to see how you're losing.”

“I won't lose,” but Mickey's voice was a whisper, afraid to look upwards and see the disappointed faces of his friends. No matter how much he moved his cards around, Daisy knew which ones to pick. At this rate, it would only be a matter of time before he was stuck with the demon. In a desperate move, he tried to take one of her cards, but before he could slid it into his hands, she merely snatched the same one back, using up her turn to mock him further.

“That lamp is going to look marvelous here,” she cooed, admiring all her treasures from past victories. “I just can't decide where I'm going to put it. Oh well, I'm sure I'll figure out what to do with it... it does have so many vast uses, after all. I wish I could tell you all the possibilities.” She giggled slyly,  knowing what buttons to push.

Mickey took a card – now there were ten in the deck. Daisy must have known exactly who – rather, what – Minnie was to say such things, and there was no way she'd ever be a kind master. Minnie's faith in Mickey was going to cost her her freedom. What had he been thinking? He should have just told Minnie no and apologized later! This was going to be all his fault! He was going to lose her, and even worse, she was going to be miserable and chained the rest of her life! She didn't deserve that, no one did!

As Mickey's panic began to override all his senses, one of his hands went to a familiar ritual, rubbing the scar on his neck. The bandanna covering it slid down as he rubbed, revealing the golden hue it now took.

“That's the only problem I have with it,” Daisy lamented as she put another pair down. “I don't think I have any necklaces big enough to cover something like that. But I guess I'll just have to manage. Thank goodness I'm so beautiful that people will be looking everywhere else.”

Mickey furrowed his brows, annoyed by her vanity, knowing she was just rubbing in her victory all the more – but then he really heard it. She thought she was going to get the scar when she got the lamp. Mickey's hand stayed where it was, finally losing its shakes. The scar got its golden appearance by a wish, but the scar itself had been there ever since his childhood – from that one blood-soaked day – from the day of revenge -  Mickey's eyes slowly began to widen. Daisy thought the scar came from the lamp. Did she not know where it really came from? How could she not, if she was reading his mind?

Unless...

Mickey's eyes met Daisy's eyes and refused to move. If he was right, there was one way to test it. He refused to look at anything but her, and instead of thinking about what cards to play or even that terrible day of his past, he thought one sentence over and over.

I'm going to knock my glass off the table.

I'm going to knock my glass off the table.

I'm going to knock my glass off the table.

Daisy plucked a card from Mickey's hand. “So, are you going to apologize to the little lady now, or will you wait until I win-” In that second, Mickey's hand suddenly lashed out, smacking his glass off the table and shattering it on the floor. Daisy jumped out of her seat, and members of the audience gasped in surprise. Daisy stared down at the mess, and then clicked her tongue. “Daddy's temper, I see. Maybe you did inherit something from your parents after all.”

But when she lifted her head, she didn't see a single trace of anger on Mickey's face. Instead, much to her shock, and the shock of those above, Mickey was grinning, displaying all his pearly-whites. “On the contrary, Daisy... I've never felt happier! I'm about to turn this game right back around!”

Daisy sat back down, snorting in disbelief. “Is that right? Or did the pressure make you snap?”

“I haven't lost my mind – maybe if you actually could read minds, you'd know that for a fact!” Mickey slammed all his cards face-down, eyes burning with new intensity. “I'm calling your bluff – you never could read minds! This has all been a trick!”

At last, there was a crack in Daisy's armor – she swallowed hard, slow, her fingers drumming the table beat by beat. Up above, whispers began to turn into shouts. “She can't read minds?” Goofy repeated, scratching his head. “How can that be? She knows everything!”

“She doesn't know my Master!” Minnie was on the edge of the balcony, clicking her heels over and over in delight. She was so thrilled by this turn-around she forgot her whole 'cold as ice' act.

“That's a dangerous assumption to make, your highness,” Daisy finally replied, snatching a new card from the deck, the first time she'd done so in ages. “What makes you think I'm not what I say I am?”

“You've got some kind of trick up your sleeve,” Mickey admitted, removing the bandanna from his neck. “But this right here...for the longest time, I wore it as a mark of shame for my family. The real memory behind this haunted me for years... but today, I'm wearing it as a badge of honor! Because you can't tell me where it really came from, can you?” He hadn't told a single person the ship – he hadn't even told Pluto. There were only a handful of people who knew the origin of the scar, and Mickey knew Daisy wasn't one of them. “If you can really read my mind, then read it now, and tell me how I got it!”

Daisy didn't answer right away, but her cheery demeanor had begun to darken considerably. The drumming on the table got louder and faster, nearly making the table quiver. The snake in her hair poked its tiny head out to hiss, only stopping when Daisy spoke in a cold tone. “Nothing says you've won yet. As long as you still have the demon in your possession, the game is far from over. I know exactly what cards you had!”

“But do you know exactly where they are?” Mickey countered, placing his hands back on the table. Without waiting her for her to answer, he began to shuffle them around quickly, never looking down. “Somehow you saw what I saw – but if I can't see what I have, how can you?” It was a dangerous gamble, but for now it was all he had.

“You'll regret messing with me, kid!” Daisy snapped, reaching over to take a card. Relief flooded her face, and she turned it over to reveal an angel lighting a candle. “Seems like lady luck is on my side. Rather fitting, since your experience with ladies is less than nil.”

“Your head games won't work on me anymore.” Mickey took a card from the deck, reshuffling the ones on the table. “You know information, but you don't know people! You know what you see, but you can't see anything past that! You see me only as the Son of Scheherazade, but I'm much more than that!” She couldn't read his mind, so now he was free to think again! If she was more focused on playing mental tricks on people, then she wasn't a real strategist after all. That meaningless detail from before – had a part of him known it would come in handy? “I'm more than who I came from.” He laid his cards back down, and now afforded a look at their backs. If that one card had a stain on its front, if he was right about where it came from – he slid one card a quarter-inch above the rest -

“You'll never be anything more than the Son of Scheherazade!” Daisy declared as she snatched a card, but her confidence was obliterated when she saw what was in her hands. “W-what the..? How?” There in her fingers sat the demon in all its hellish glory.

Mickey smiled, and for the first time since the game started he looked up at the audience. All their previously downtrodden faces were now glowing in happy surprise, with Donald, Jose, and Panchito all dancing in an ill-placed circle. Clarabelle and Horace were hugging, Goofy was laughing, and Minnie was gazing at him in wonder, her hands on her cheeks, eyes starry. Mickey was definitely going to remember that last one for a long time. “It's an old kid's trick... you push the card you want your opponent to take just a little bit up, and they'll grab it because it's closest!” With his hand free of demons, he picked his cards back up and placed a pair down.

Daisy inhaled deeply, taking a new card from the deck. Soon it would be completely empty, and they'd be down to the ones in their hands. “I won't fall for that again. Just because I have the demon doesn't mean anything's decided yet! Whatever gifts I have, you have none. You have no idea where it is!” She shuffled her hand, but Mickey wasn't wavering – he swiftly took one card from her, returning the candle angel to his hand.

Deck, pair, pair, deck, pair, deck, deck, deck – several turns passed, with crowd beginning to cheer for Mickey each time a card was taken. Now the deck was gone, and the two opponents had only what was left in their hands. Daisy had five, Mickey had four. At one madcap turn, Daisy tried to pull the same trick on Mickey he'd done for her, but it failed, and now Daisy was left with four, and after Mickey placed a pair down, he had three.

Daisy wiped sweat from her brow, her eyes dancing back and forth between her cards. “How can you possibly know what you're doing? I've never lost a single game in my entire life! What makes you think someone like you can beat me?”

“I said it before, Daisy,” Mickey snatched another card from Daisy, leaving her with three. “You don't see beyond the surface!”

“What can you see that I can't see?” Daisy yanked a card back. “There's nothing I can't see!”

Back and forth, back and forth, a pair – now Mickey had one card, and Daisy two. It would take just one movement to end everything, and judging from Mickey's beaming face, he knew exactly what to do. He stood up out of his chair, feeling tall for one of the very few times in his short life. “You know how to play people like a fiddle. You can't see what's in their heads, but you know how to get in them. It makes people mighty nervous... and I bet you've played this exact game with a bunch of people. And when you play your tricks, they get so nervous they sweat. And you've used this trick and this game on so many people... it's left its mark!” The stain on the corner of the card had been a sweaty thumbprint – and there were similar, small stains on its back, where the other fingers would have been! Daisy had been so used to messing with people she never took an actual good look at the cards she used. While the other cards bore the marks of time, the demon's smears stood out most of all.

With one last pull, he took away the remaining angel card, holding it with the last card and flashing them both for all to see – two harps. “I walk with the angels, Daisy – game over!”

The crowd exploded into ecstatic cheers, people kissing and hugging each other, threatening to break the poorly-made balcony with each triumphant jump. The beastly owner of the bar had been bested! The impossible had been done! Three cheers for the Son of Scheherazade! Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me! M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E! Minnie pushed past the chants and cheers, trying to get back down the stairs so she could see Mickey face to face. Once again, he had done what others thought couldn't - or just thought he couldn't. Was there no limit to his strength, to his bravery, to his cleverness? He was truly something, wasn't he?

There came that strange, warm feeling in her chest, but now it was much more intense, like a fever, which was strange because genies didn't get sick. How odd. Oh well, it was hardly anything to worry about now – Mickey had won! His parents were as good as rescued! Freedom was almost hers! Mickey had won, Mickey had won, her marvelous Master had won!

Daisy stayed silent in her seat for a long time, her fingers curling and crumpling the demon card. This was a new sensation for her – loss. She took her time leaving her seat, her eyes unreadable. She walked around the table, her every step a stomp. “That...was...SO MUCH FUN!”

Mickey dropped his cards. “Huh?”

“I've never lost before! This is amazing!” Daisy grabbed Mickey's hands, swinging them around happily. “Oh, thank you, your highness! You've brought the most excitement I've ever had in my whole entire life! This was grand!” She even hugged him tightly, popping one foot up. “A true cure for my boredom at last! I've never been happier!”

“You're... welcome?” Mickey replied in confusion – given all the enemies he'd dealt with before, he was expecting something along the lines of “You'll rue the day!” or “Curse you, boy!” Even though he had uncovered some of the truth about her, he was quite certain he'd never entirely understand her. “You are still going to tell me about my parents, right?”

“Fiddle-de-dee, of course I am, silly.” Daisy lightly poked his nose, and then went to a pile of clothes to dig something from within. She popped out an old cloth bag, and began to stuff it with clothes and jewels. “But first, it's time to pack.”

While the bar patrons above were still partying, Goofy's crew stopped. Clarabelle went white. “Did she say pack?”

“I have a bad feeling,” Horace added. Just because Daisy wasn't a mind reader didn't stop her from being unpleasant to be around.

“Pack?” Mickey scratched his head. “What for?”

“Well, you don't expect me to travel with you guys without my things, do you?” she chirped, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“Travel – that wasn't part of the deal!” Mickey squeaked, looking up at his friends for help, but they'd already started running, hoping to get to the ship before she did.

“It wasn't not part of the deal!” Daisy said, chipper as she looped her arm around Mickey's. “Oh, and don't take what I said during the game too seriously. You're a good kid! I just like messing with people. Think of me as the troll under the bridge, bothering the billy-goats as they pass.” She then proceeded to drag the stunned mouse to the door.

Mickey had won, but he was also starting to feel he'd also somehow lost. “Didn't the troll eat the billy-goats?”

“Tomato, tamata.”

The door opened before they made it, with Minnie ready to heap praise upon her Master. “I knew you could do it! I knew you were...” She trailed off, seeing the two arm-in-arm. “... Did I miss something?”

“Yep.” Daisy grinned. “We're eloping!”

“WHAT?!”

“Heeheeheeheeeeeeee~! Just kidding.” Daisy laughed, pushing Minnie aside to walk on. “This is going to be so much fun! So many new toys to play with!”

And so the terror of Maelumat finally left, leaving the waitresses wondering who owned it now, before deciding to form the world's first worker's union.

~*~

Pete could taste blood in his mouth, and he didn't want to look up. Yet even when his eyes shut, he knew who stood before him with a whip in his hand, and he heard the dark chuckles vibrating in his ears.

“So, the boy is in Maelumat?” the shadowy master confirmed. “Excellent work, Pete. She won't tell me a thing... but as long as she's convinced you're just as much my prisoner as she is, she'll spill her guts to you all day long.”

“Speaking of guts spilling...” Pete groaned, his hands on his stomach. “How about we call it quits early tonight?”

The man tsked. “Now now... we have to make her believe I'm torturing you, and make it look real. If you want their kingdom to belong to you again, you'll just have to endure it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, so it's said.”

Pete didn't know how that could be right, when he felt as weak as a kitten, and not just physically. Every day, as he felt the motherly touch at day and the stinging whip at night, his soul and humanity died a little bit more.

“My kingdom will return to its glory,” said the dark being, raising his weapon again, “And soon, all will worship The Phantom Prince!”

[kfawkes]

Like a Knife to the Heart

Hi! This is my first EVER JONERYS FIC. I hope you like it :) I’m used to writing Shakarian as you all know, so if this isn’t your cup of tea no worries! theres nothing graphic or sexual, but it’s kinda fluffy. Thanks for reading guys! 

Check it out on Ao3 too if you wanna! <3

There weren’t many things that scared Jon. No, he’d been through worse than any man could dare to even dream about. He’d been murdered by his brothers, abandoned by his friends, tricked, lied to and his heart had been crushed in more ways than one. It was hard to be afraid of anything after you’ve lived a life like Jon’s or seen what really lie beyond The Wall... What Jon didn’t realize was that when you lived your life knowing you could die at moment, there wasn’t much room for happiness or joy. You were left empty and usually alone.

But things changed for Jon, and he felt himself truly feeling what it was like to be alive again, only after he felt that fear again. The fear of losing something, someone special.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when he was summoned to Dragonstone, but it wasn’t that. It wasn’t her. He’d heard the stories about House Targaryen... The Mad King and the tales of days when dragons roamed the skies. But this woman wasn't like her father, and the dragons were no longer distant memories, Slowly, and then like a wave he felt himself pulled towards her more and more as each day pass. Drawn not just to her beauty or grace and elegance, but to her strength, persistence and vigilance. 

Daenerys Targaryen was impeccable and only a fool would not see it. Nearly everything about this woman was inspiring and it quickly became clear to him why people chose to follow her. The more time he spent with her himself, the more he wanted to know her. As each day passed he warmed up to the idea of bending the knee and even serving her himself.  

Jon been her guest at Dragonstone for over a full moon cycle, and even though Queen Daenerys granted permission to mine the Dragonglass, she was quite persistent in her cause as rightful Queen of Westeros. But Jon knew what was coming, he’d seen it so many moons ago and now they were almost here. 

He maybe have been able to see her wondrous potential like all others, but he still he couldn’t bend the knee. How could he focus on petty things like who the rightful heir was when he knew what was coming for them. Jon may have acted stupidly before, but he wouldn’t let her beauty or bloodline blind him from his true goals. Protecting the Realm and stopping The Army of the Dead. 

Jon was King in the North, selected by those who knew his family and his trials to guide them all; To protect them. He had duties, expectations... obligations. How could he submit to this Queen, even if he himself knew she would be a worthy choice when the outcome of it all was so irrelevant? His men trusted him, they chose him and they needed him to be strong and do what is right for them... Bending the knee was of little importance, but saving the Realm wasn’t. 

“Your Grace... If I might have a word.” Jon asked under a serious brow with hands linked loosely behind his back as he make brief eye contact with Tyrion and the others surrounding them. “In private, if I may.”

After a moment she nodded once as the quiet shuffle of feet exited the Chamber of the Painted Table leaving the two in silence. Jon exhaled in full, as he watch her from the opposite side of the table. She was wearing a long black dress, the same one she’d worn the first day he met her, and by the Seven if she didn’t look beautiful.

“Is this private enough for you, Jon Snow?” Daenerys asked as she pull herself gracefully from her chair at the head of the table. Linking her slender fingers into a tight braid as she walk closer to him, her eye contact unbreaking. 

“Yes... Your Grace, I kn-” 

“You may call me Daenerys.” She interrupted him as she step lightly unlinking her fingers as she trace them along the edge of The Painted Table. “Continue.”

“Daenerys, you have my gratitude... My armies stand a chance because of you. You’ve done what not many would and trusted someone you’ve never met. And now I’m asking you to trust me again.” Jon’s brow was still lowered, the concern and urgency was as prevalent on his face as it was in his voice. 

“And what is it you’re asking of me?” With a soft exhale she move her purple eyes to his, reading him as best she could. 

Jon raised a hand to the back of his neck as he nodded lowly. “The Army of the Dead are real and they are stronger than any man or woman, stronger than any army: We cannot win this battle alone. They’re coming whether you choose to believe that or not-” 

“And what if I do believe you?” Daenerys replied with a smooth silky voice, as she glance to the Painted Table beside her eyeing each wooden House piece momentarily. “If what you say is true then there won’t be anything left to rule after...” Daenerys slid her finger tips over the House Stark piece with a soft finger, then move her eyes back to his. “What is it you’re asking of me?”

“I’m going North, over The Wall... I plan to bring one of the dead to King’s Landing. I’m going to show Queen Cersei what is coming for us. For all of us... If we want to win this war we will need more men.”

“I have men.” She replied back quickly, holding her jaw tightly together. Daenerys didn’t like the idea of this Cersei Lannister on her throne, but she liked the idea of Jon going to her even less.

“Not enough.” Jon said back under a soft sigh. “We need the support of everyone we can. That means those on the Iron Throne.”

“No...” Daenerys swallowed as she shake her head briefly from side to side. “You don’t have my permission to leave.” 

“With all due respect, Daenerys... I wasn't asking for permission. I am a king and I must do this.” Jon was confident and could see by the expression on her face that she didn’t like his response.

Jon lightly sighed as he slid his eyes to the walls momentarily. Tracing each scale carved into the wood forming a miraculous dragon. As he glide his gaze over each crevice he thought on her response. He himself didn't like it and he wondered if she thought he’d prefer miles upon miles of ice and snow to the comfort of a warm fire and meal at Dragonstone... Did she think he’d rather trek for days with what is out there instead of ruling the North in Winterfell? Did Daenerys believe he’d prefer the possibility of death to spending time alongside her? 

Of course he didn’t want to leave, but he had to. This was his battle and it was beginning to seem like it always had been. 

“You’ll get yourself killed.” When she replied this time her voice wasn’t strong or stern, but lined ever so slightly with apprehension. 

“I might.” Jon took a small step closer to her admiring the way the light shone behind her silvery white hair. The paleness of her face and her large round lavender colored eyes... He knew the way he was looking at her would be noticed, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Please don’t...” Daenerys said quietly as she look to his chest thinking of the first day she met him and the words Davos had said.

He took a knife to the heart for his people. He gave his...

Now in those moments she wondered what those words truly meant. “I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

Before he realized what he was doing, Jon reached a hand towards her cheek, tracing the back of his finger along it slowly. That look still ever present in his eyes, saying volumes more than any words he could form would. He watched her slightly shudder at the embrace as she drew a hurried breath in and swallow returning the look he sent her in full.  

“I’m... I’m sorry Your Grace, please... forgive me.” Jon’s face changed to one trying to hide embarrassment as he remove his hand quickly, shifting his gaze towards his feet.

“Don’t be.” Daenerys didn’t move and she didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment or have minded he’d just touched her... She just stare with wide  eyes holding a look of admiration behind them. “And I told you... Daenerys.” 

[whitstanwilhelm]

The Ocean Tide.

The pain was bad… but the worst thing was, that it was he who did it. The ends justified the means… or he told himself. He breathed in and the very air tasted of ash. Step after step, his greaves would clank against the cold earth. Once in a while a crunch would be heard from the bones he treaded over in the Ruins of the Scarlet Enclave. He often found solace here, time and time again. Finally, he had reached the docks to hear the waves gently brush up against the shore and rocky cliffsides. He sat at the end of the dock as he watched out to the infinite horizon while the water shifted just beneath the broken pier. For two days he sat motionless as he stared out to the calming seas. It was the only thing that could remove his mind from the flood of memories that had returned to his head- and the burden of guilt along with it. Every so often a cold foggy sigh escaped his lips.

“Whatever is the matter?” Ellyria finally spoke after hours of silence. “You seem… hmm… distant.”

“Distant? No. Just introspective. A lot of decisions that have been made seem to have been for naught. Now I weigh what reason I have to continue involving myself in the affair of mortals. This is their world. In the end, a world of undead would wither away into darkness. I thought myself immortal. But it seems we’re all just… waiting for our turns to swim into that endless ocean of torment.”

“It’s thirsty work, distancing us from my meals.” The vampiric spirit playfully whispered into his ear. “Besides, you like the company. Listening to me howl for blood every day would drive you insane, especially if you isolated us on some island in the middle of nowhere. Speaking of blood, the Light’s Chapel is only a few hours walk away…”

“Enough…” he responded,  then continued speaking dryly, “Between the anguish laid upon me from my condition… needing to inflict harm to the living… and you chirping at me about blood… might it be better that we all simply sink to the bottom of the ocean and cease to exist? What good has come out of my efforts so far? I’m sure you’ve been such a willing, happy cog in the machine I created. Now it has halted to an abrupt end.”

“That Priestess must have really gotten to you.” Ellyria fell silent while her spirit drifted out of the blade to sit beside the former Spell-Breaker; although she couldn’t interact with the physical world, her ethereal form pretended to anyway by leaning against Whitstan’s shoulder. “Fine… tell me more about these foiled plans of yours.”

“Mnn?” he perked a brow as he looked down at her petite figure. He didn’t bother to move away. After all, her image was just that, a vision layered over reality. “You couldn’t see as you dragged me out of that vision? It is an inevitability that she opened my eyes to… even if my ambitions came to fruition and I could convert everyone… it would be a pointless charade. Now I simply look back at everything that has happened in vain.”

“Life is meant to be enjoyed… not savored.” She paused, glancing around the ruins they rested in. “Life, in a matter of speaking, that is. Take a look around you… this desolate land was once brimming with people who clung desperately to their beliefs. And what did that get them?” Her image shimmered while she stood up straight, twirling her arms around before stopping to stare down at him. “Times change, love. All you need to do is get with the times.”

“And in the present…” he commented as his eyes drifted to her. “I have allies that wanted to help a monster… recover his monstrosity. Then they learned what price they would have to pay for it. And now… we’re back to being without allies. I don’t have the Witch that once supported me, the Worgen pack that followed my beck and call, and the aberrations that sided with me to bring down what was to become the Oathguard.”

“If friendship means so much to you, then make amends.” Ellyria crossed her arms and leaned against one of her legs. “Your power has been reawakened, and with it your command of the dead. Show them how foolish it would be to turn away your might while the Burning Legion invades Azeroth.”

A light laugh escaped his lips for once, followed by a chilled fog. “Friendship. I could live forever without a creature to call a friend. And… the more power one wields, the more it should make their prospective allies wary of the repercussions of the tentative alliance that would be formed. But that’s completely ignoring the fact that they wouldn’t want to kill me on sight. Not that they would have much success but… there have been too many bridges burnt. Now I ponder here, watching the horizon… on what’s left.”

“Glorious conquest, my dear.” Ellyria’s visage approached Whitstan cautiously, walking through the former Spell-Breaker to spread her arms out wide before the sun. “My power gives you unparalleled control of Blood magic, while your natural talent with Necromancy can give you unending armies. Fulfill your passion to bring your enemies to heel… but start with the Legion. Start with Kil’jaedan.” The San’layn turned her back to the sun, instinctively licking her lips in anticipation. “Once the Legion is destroyed, we turn to the Old Gods. Once they’re beaten, we turn to their masters. And then…?”

“And then what? We both know what the answer to that is. The vision left to me didn’t include any of the living. I imagine after we have soaked into all the blood that was left of the world there was none to be had left in that dreary reality. You told me you did not want to sink into oblivion after your connection to me died… but would that not be a similar fate? Should we revel in what we have before us and simply indulge until there is nothing left? I have much to ponder.”

“Did you really expect to rule Azeroth forever?” Ellyria draped her arms over his shoulders as she whispered in his ear. “The living make the most out of their lives, don’t they? We can too… we just have much… much more time than they do. I say we indulge a bit. Protect the living like you would livestock… let them breed and multiply. The more they create, the more we can feast. If we let them live out their lives, we get an unending supply of corpses to use at our leisure. We can sustain ourselves forever… that is, unless someone stronger than us grows tired of our presence.”

His left hand moved to cradle his face as he leaned over. “That’s… an idea. But a horrible one at best. Is that all we can rely on? Horrible fates, one after the other to cling to? I suppose that’s the fate of the undead. And now we’re both tied to it… but…” he paused as the image of someone he knew flashed into his mind. ‘How would she feel?’ He wondered. It was a pointless contemplation. There was no room for the dead amongst the living.

“You love her, don’t you?” Her voice gently licked the back of his neck. “Not the Priestess that unlocked your memories… the other one. The younger one. Is that your endgame, Whitstan? Spend an eternity with her?”

His scowl grew darker as he dipped his head a moment. His eyes met the horizon once more. “Love?… I don’t know what that is. My parents abandoned me at birth. Their human relatives did their best to raise me. I was brought into undeath by the Lich King while serving with one who I once called a brother. He betrayed me in the end and I did the same. I made friends with his allies who were once my enemies and now they undoubtedly see me as I was… a threat to their existence.  Now here we are, watching the ocean tide. It would have been nice to have learned what love was… but… alas… I can’t answer your question because I don’t know what it is you ask.”

“I suppose I don’t know either.” Her form shimmered again while she walked through him once more; Ellyria abruptly sat in his lap and placed her hands upon his shoulders. “When I was your age - before we both served the Lich King - I was a capable Blood Mage for King Anasterian. It was by his command that I and a select few ventured to Northrend to investigate what Prince Arthas was doing… and… the rest you can figure out yourself, I suppose. But back to the girl… you must be very fond of her at least, right? I can see it in your eyes whenever you say her name.”

He paused, trying to dissemble what the spirit referenced. He contemplated ways to trivialize the emotion that she was implying in regards to the woman she spoke of. “Her name…?” he asked, even though he knew the answer to the question. The San’layn drew close, almost pressing her ethereal form against his chest.

“Kaevia Sun’rael.” she whispered suggestively. “Don’t play dumb with me, I may be your servant… but I am no fool.”

“… She… is of the living. There’s no hope to be had there. I am undead. My purpose was to keep those terrors that lingered just beyond at bay. Now… it seems like there is no winning. She is someone… that I would like to hold close but my cold dead hands can only offer so much. She is better off living without this burden. Someone living will undoubtedly come along and offer her a better chance at a better life.”

“There are ways to get around such barriers.” Ellyria slid off his lap and rested beside him again, this time choosing to kick her feet up onto his legs. “Fleshcraft is a taboo art, even among us Undead… but it can be done. Otherwise, your prize could suffer an… unfortunate accident.” The San’layn stretched out, though such actions seemed pointless now that she lacked a physical body. “Leading that Oathguard is a dangerous job, who knows what kind of assassin could end her life?”

He snapped his attention to Ellyria. “I… cannot let that happen.” the man commented before looking back to the ocean while the rain poured down around him. “That isn’t an option.” the words were spoken as an explanation but sounded rather as a command. He sighed lightly, “Thank you Ellyria…” he breathed softly. “I think I’ve found my purpose.” Her form instantly warped and twisted as it returned to the accursed blade.

“Anytime, love.” Ellyria whispered. “Now… let’s get something to drink.”

@istrys collab. @k-sunrael

[imagineimuptonogood]

JugBug || Jughead J.

Word Count: 2266

Warnings: None:)

A/N: Riverdale is my newest obsession and obviously my favorite character is Jughead Jones. I’ve never read the comics but I’ve seen that there he is asexual, however, I’m pretty sure the show is changing him (AKA Bughead) and that’s how I want to write him. I’m sorry if that offends you, but come on, who doesn’t want a little fluff/smut from the mysterious closed-off hottie in the gray beanie? Also, I wrote this at 2 AM when I couldn’t sleep so if it is complete trash, let me know. I value you all comments unless it involves hate. :) 

Sidenote: Thank you to all of the people that followed me after Holy Trench Coat! I love you all so much and you are the best!

(gifs are not mine)

           It was Friday, the typical day that you rejoiced all your happiness because the week was finally over. You didn’t have to go to school, and you could sleep for as long as your mother allowed you to before she decides she needs to vacuum the house and wake you up.

           Normally, on Fridays, You would have a fantastic breakfast of waffles and bacon at Pop’s with a certain raven-haired boy as he typed and you drew, before you headed out to a prison that forced learning upon you. After you would serve your eight-hour sentence, you and sometimes Juggie, if he hadn’t already walked there, headed to Pop’s. Yes, you do interact with people on the way. It is a fair few and normally short conversations as your sarcastic humor is just not appreciated as much as it should be. 

           However, today is different. Your alarm casually didn’t go off and you were rudely awakened by a loud fist slamming into your door. Ever since you realized that your door had a lock on it, you made sure to use it and last night was no different. It definitely helped when your mother decided you didn’t need to sleep anymore.You thought you had fooled her but you were wrong and that was when she began to use the vacuum as punishment and to this day you can’t stand to look at that Dyson Dirt Devil. It even has devil in the name!

           Groaning, you stuck a pillow over your head trying to drown out the banging. After what felt like an hour, but was possibly only five minutes the knocking went away. A soft sigh left your lips as you snuggled deeper into your covers waiting for sleep to overtake you once more.

           However, you were sadly mistaken. The intruder did not go away and just as you were perfectly comfortable, your blanket was snatched off your body and the cold air from the AC unit blew goosebumps on your skin. Your eyes immediately sprung open and you sat up.

           The raven-haired boy didn’t even say anything, but as soon as you stood up his smug expression changed. You watched the smirk drop from his thin light pink lips and his brows furrow.

           “What the hell Juggie? How did you even get in?” Your eyes watched as his hand lifted to show the key that you had given him at the beginning of summer.

           “Oh, makes sense,” You concluded sitting up further as you were now wide awake. With your small hands balled into fists, you rubbed them against your eyes to make sure they were clean of any sleep gunk before letting out the most un-ladylike whale noise and stretching both your arms to the now invisible stars.

           “Is that my shirt?” Jughead’s voice brought you back to reality and you immediately stopped your daily routine of the infamous “whale stretch” and looked down. The old hunter green v-neck was big on you. Not too big to be over-sized, but enough so that if you stood up your lady-bits would be covered. It was your favorite shirt to sleep in. The softness of the tee was just right and if you were being 100% honest with yourself the only reason you started to wear it was because it smelled just like Jughead. Pinewood, Old Spice, and burger grease were now only a memory of scents since your mother decided to wash it after finding it on your floor one morning. Now, it was “blessed” by the scent of Gain Moonlight Breeze fabric softener and it came at a far second to the original. You still wore it, it made me feel closer to him.

           Heat rose to your cheeks. You didn’t ever expect him to see this shirt ever again, let alone you in it. “Uh, yeah. Maybe.”

           That seemed to break Jughead out of his trans he was in as his blue eyes raked over your figure. “That’s where it went.”

           Deciding to not let the moment get any more awkward than it already had, you broke the silence. “So, what are you doing here JugBug?”

           He winced at the nickname still not too fond of it, but for some reason he let you use it. “It’s Friday and you didn’t come into Pop’s this morning for waffles, so I knew something had to be wrong. However, I can see it was just laziness and you didn’t wake up to your alarm.” He smirked at her once more, dropping himself into her black computer chair that was to the left of her queen-sized bed. Her comforter laid abandoned on the ground in front of him.

           She rolled her eyes at him but smiled. “I apologize Juggie, I didn’t know my presence was of such importance to you.”

           This time it was his turn to roll his eyes. “It’s not.” Lies “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t the second person murdered in the crazy town.”

           Even though he meant it as a joke and deep down you knew it was one, your heart crack slightly. Having a crush on Jughead wasn’t easy. He didn’t often show affection, his sarcastic humor most of the time got the best of him, and you were almost completely sure he had no feelings for you what so ever. That didn’t stop you from loving him, though. You loved his humor, his style, his determination, his detective skills, his love of movies, honestly, there wasn’t anything you disliked about your Jugbug, except maybe his father and the way he always put himself down, as if he wasn’t that important in anyone’s life.

           “Ouch Jugbug, my heart, it hurts.” His lips twitched up in an almost smile and I wanted to do a victory dance.

           “Yeah, yeah. Now, get up. We have six more hours of torturing ourselves while listening to old bags droning on and on about subjects only half of us care or pretend to care about.” He stated getting up from his chair and throwing the comforter back at you.

           You groaned again falling back against your pillows and looking over at the clock. He was right, it was only ten AM. Your arm fell over your face in defeat. That was until a brilliant idea struck your brain. “I don’t think so Juggie. I’m going to sit this one out.”

           “You’re skipping?” He questioned stopping to lean against the door frame. You could almost feel his amused expression behind your arm that guarded your eyes.

           Dropping your arm back to the bed, you drug your glaring eyes to stare at him. “You act like I haven’t done it before.”

           He shrugged. “You haven’t done it in a while. But don’t let me stop your fun.”

           He went to walk away, but you called after him. “Are you just going to leave and go back to scision?”

           His head popped back into the doorway with confusion written across his face. “Scision?” 

           You smiled at him. “School-prison.”

           He raised his eyebrows clearly not impressed with the word. “Please, don’t ever combine two words again and try to make them into new ones. Or else I’m going to start calling you a River Vixen who says like every few sentences and the words ‘awesomesauce’ and or ‘tots fab’.”

           A smirk worked its way onto your lips. “Why not, that would just be amazeballs?”

           “Now you are trying to scar me.” He retorted walking back into your room and dropping his bag near the end of the bed. “But, yes I have to head back. Betty wanted to talk to me about something.”

           Jealousy popped in your veins thinking about Betty anywhere near your Jugbug. Yes, the three of you were friends, but lately, after Archie confessed to having no feelings for Betty what so ever, it seemed she was flirting with Jug any chance she could get and it irked you to no end. Jug was yours. Well, not really but still. She knew you had feelings for him, he’s supposed to be off limits.

           “So, you wouldn’t even stay if we watched this?” You slid your hand over to the nightstand and help up Pulp Fiction. You could see his conflict in his eyes. To go or not to go seemed to be the question.

           “And I might even pay to have Pop’s delivered in about an hour for lunch?” That was the cherry on top. You knew that Jug couldn’t resist free food. Especially cheeseburgers from Pop’s.

           “You had me at skipping.” He clarified dumping his dark brown coat on your chair and sliding off his shoes, before coming over to the other side of your bed and slipping under the recently thrown dark blue comforter. His eyebrows furrowed as he realized you were staring at him. “What are you waiting for? Put the movie in Sunshine.”

           Sunshine was his nickname for you. It had come about just after Jugbug. He definitely wasn’t a fan of your name for him so he decided to call you something that annoyed you. Secretly, you thought it was the cutest thing, but you weren’t about to tell him that so he would stop.

           Rolling your eyes, you stood up and put the movie into the DVD player before returning to the bed.

             During the whole movie, you couldn’t help but feel like someone was staring at you and after looking over at the raven-haired boy, you realized someone was: Jughead. It would happen every few minutes. You would start to feel as if someone is watching you and you’d slightly look to your right. Immediately Jughead was intensely staring at the movie screen. You swore the guy might get whiplash.

           But as the first movie was coming to a close, you caught him staring one more time. This time, however, he was staring at your body and when you looked over to ‘catch him’ he didn’t even seem to notice. 

           “Jugbug, what are you staring at?” You whispered, not sure you wanted to know the answer.

           His head immediately swung up to meet your eyes. Those bright blue orbs shined as they widened. He glanced back down for a brief second before he looked back up at you. “I like you wearing my clothes.”

           The room’s temperature soared and you felt your whole body flush. “W-what?” You weren’t usual the one to stutter, but hearing those words come from Jug’s mouth made you very flustered, very fast. 

           Suddenly, Jug leaned closer staring into your eyes as if he was searching for something. “Why do you like wearing my clothes?”

           “Because they remind me of you.” The truth just blurted out and it seemed to take the poor boy by surprise and he leaned back but continued to stare at you straight in the eyes. You decided since this moment was coming to a turning point of good or bad you would finally try something that had to do with your feelings.

           “Can I try something?” You whispered once more, this time you were the one leaning closer.

           Faintly, Jughead nodded and you took your moment.

           The blue spheres watched your every move with anticipation. He had been waiting for this moment since freshman year when he finally began to see you as more than just his best friend. He just never had the balls to do this himself. Plus, he didn’t want to ruin the friendship that you both shared with unrequited feelings.

           You closed your eyes as your lips fell onto his and in that moment, you kicked yourself for waiting this long. You’d always thought that his lips would be rough, chapped, maybe even cracked from all the frustrated biting and constant licking that he did to them when he was writing, but they were as soft as butter. Smooth, pink, lines molded onto yours and a moan was let loose. You couldn’t tell if it was from you or Jug, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was when your lips touched his, he only tensed for a second before wrapping one arm around your waist and the other cupping your cheek as he held your lips together. He tasted like peppermint mixed with chocolate and you couldn’t get enough of it. 

           The need for air was the only thing that broke you two apart.

           Sliding back from him, you licked your lips hoping to taste him just a second longer. You hadn’t realized it, but your body now sat on his lap straddling him as his arms encircled your waist.

           For a few seconds, no one said anything and you two just looked at each other. This time, however, it was Jughead who broke the silence. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that to happen.”

           “I have a pretty good idea.” You whispered causing him to smile. A real smile this time. You mirrored his expression as the two of you leaned your foreheads together and pressed your lips against each other’s one more time.

           His hands squeezed your hips in happiness while pressing you closer to him. “I really like you, Maya.” He whispered. His eyes were closed while his forehead laid against yours. Your chests were pressed together adding to the temperature of the room, but neither of you moved. At first, you thought it was just yours, but soon you concluded that his heart was beating just as wildly as yours.

           Bringing your hand up you caressed his cheek with your thumb. His bright blue eyes slowly fluttered open to stare into yours. “I really like you too Jugbug.”