#well maybe the courage could be genuine that time around no matter where they land

[kohakuhibiki]

People with a supportive background when they're successful: my courage and my efforts paid off and everyone is free to do everything they want, sky is the limit.

[faerieroyal]

𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘’𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 !

— ❥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 + 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

( warnings: insecurities, mentions of kind of shitty parents and past partners, one mention of food )

( note: this short was written with tom holland’s peter parker in mind, but i think it would also work for andrew garfield’s if you’d rather picture him. )

you are not a person who is used to praise. this isn’t something you say to garner sympathy or to make people feel bad for you so they’ll compliment you, not at all - it’s just a fact. your parents have never been the kind of people to vocally express approval, usually settling for an awkwardly cleared throat and a hand squeezing your shoulder, and the few romantic partners you’d had before your current boyfriend apparently hadn’t seen the need for it either. but then, you’d realized after those relationships had ended, your partners hadn’t really seemed to appreciate anything you did for them anyway, so the fact that they weren’t big on complimenting you isn’t exactly shocking.

what is shocking, however, is what happens when you start dating one peter parker. when he’d first confessed his feelings to you and asked you out, face scarlet and stumbling over his words all the while, you hadn’t really expected much of a difference from your previous relationships. sure, peter was much sweeter and more genuine than your former partners, but at that point you’d been convinced that you just attracted people who didn’t express gratitude, so you’d assumed, with no small amount of disappointment, that this relationship would turn out to be the same.

you find very quickly that you’re in for a surprise.

peter isn’t really known for being the most eloquent guy around; everyone at school is familiar with the way he tends to trip over his words, even if he can occasionally land well-placed verbal blows on bullies or anyone who’s being an idiot. but his tendency towards stumbling over his words hasn’t stopped him from praising almost everything you do since the two of you started dating - quite the opposite, in fact. almost every time you do something for him, or, in fact, even when you just do something that could be generally considered good, he’s quick to shoot a compliment your way in that sweet, slightly awkward way you’ve come to associate with him and him only.

“oh, you didn’t have to make breakfast - thank you, though, really, it looks like it’s gonna be delicious!”

“is… is that a new outfit? i mean, it’s fine if it’s not, too, obviously, but you… you look really good in it. like, wow.”

and, you’re surprised to find, even when you mess up or you’re struggling, the praise doesn’t stop coming; in fact, it seems to increase, now combined with encouragements and forehead kisses and even offers to help with whatever you’re having trouble with, something you’re even less used to than compliments.

“i know this is really hard, but you’re doing really good, okay? i’m super proud of you, no matter what.”

“is there anything i can do to help? maybe i can’t help with the actual thing, but i can get you a snack? or, are you cold, i can get you a blanket?”

“i’m really proud of you, you know. i just… i mean, i dunno, i just thought i’d tell you.”

it’s everything you haven’t had from anyone up until this point, everything you didn’t know you wanted until you and peter got together… and you’re not entirely sure you deserve it. you know your boyfriend isn’t exactly in the habit of saying things he doesn’t mean, but it’s all just so much, all the compliments and affirmations, and while it does feel good, you’re never sure exactly how to react to it at the time, and it always makes you feel like the worst partner ever when your own attempts to return the praise are always so awkward and stilted.

you tell peter all of this, one night when the two of you are curled together in bed. you’re not entirely sure where you find the courage to voice what you’ve been thinking - maybe it’s just the effect of being in the dark, the little burst of confidence to say things you’d never have the wherewithal to say in the light of day. nevertheless, you finally voice all the negative thoughts swirling around in your head, your voice quiet and shy, but the words there all the same.

the moment you’re done, peter shifts around in bed, moving so that the two of you are facing each other, your own face cupped gently in his hands. you can’t make out every little detail of him in the dark - not that it matters, when every facet of his face has been engraved in your mind and heart for months now - but you can see the way his eyes are wide with genuine concern and affection, how his mouth is turned down in a sad little frown that you’d surely think was absolutely adorable had you not just shared your most vulnerable, insecure thoughts with him.

“babe,” peter says, his voice soft and sweet and oh so gentle. “of course you deserve compliments and encouragement and all that, you’re amazing. and i mean, everyone deserves compliments and that kind of stuff, but you deserve them more than most people, because you’re amazing and ‘cause i know you haven’t had a lot of them. and it’s okay if you can’t always give it back to me, you show your love in other ways and that’s fine. i know it’s kind of hard to believe when you’ve convinced yourself of something different, but i don’t have any problem keeping on telling you until you do believe it, and i will. okay?”

it’s not the most eloquent speech ever, but it’s honest and loving and so peter that you can’t help it, a few tears well up in your eyes. but peter sees them immediately, because of course he does, and he immediately swoops in to kiss your eyelids, pushing them away. you nestle your face into the curve of his neck, so overcome, for a moment, with all the love you feel for this awkward, adorable, wonderful boy, and in return the boy in question wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles you closer to him, knowing to give words a rest for a moment and just let you hold him and process.

he’s right, of course, as he tends to be. everything you think and feel, all the effects of being deprived of praise and encouragement for so much of your life, are going to take a while to overcome, to replace with positivity and acceptance of all the things your boyfriend thinks and says about you. but you can’t help but believe peter when he says that he’s going to keep at it, with all the boundless determination that makes him such an amazing person and hero, until you really do believe him.

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[the-witty-pen-name]

Tell Me Your Mine, Darling

Western AU 

18+ ONLY

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

Warnings: prostitution, mentions of smut, alcohol, cursing, violence, mentions cheating 

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Hey! As always, this is unedited! Please let me know if I missed anything to include as a warning. I’m on the fence if I should make this a longer story, I like the idea of this being a stand alone, but let me know what you think! I’d love to hear any feedback cause this is my first attempt at a Western AU :)

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The player piano echoed throughout the whole saloon, bouncing off the walls as patrons moved about the crowded room. The peppy music was perfect for dancing as a few of the men threw back shots of liquid courage and asked some of the women working tonight for a dance. It was a night where the people who came in through the batwing doors could forget about their troubles and the existence of sins, and partake in merry drink and debauchery. The night air hung heavy and the room smelled of sweat, cheap liquor and even cheaper perfume. 

The women were scantily clad in dresses only slightly less revealing than their undergarments, and the men still in their clothes from long days of travel. Cowboy hats, rugged trousers, and boots that lost their shine years ago. Girls carried around large trays of shots and lagers, passing them around to the drunk souls who struck rich for a night and opened tabs at the bar. 

It was a busy night both downstairs in the saloon, but also many of the girls were leading men upstairs to their beds, for a warm place to lay their head and anything else they can afford. That was the secret that kept this dilapidated building up and running. The music and the watered down liquor wasn’t enough to keep the sheriff from closing and condemning the building. 

If the owner was honest, he knew what kept the sheriff from coming and toting him away to rot in one of the two cells down at the jail. Not only was the sheriff partial to a drink or a few each night after the sun goes down, but he was particularly taken with one of the girls who worked there. Sure, the sheriff must’ve had his turn with every girl in the joint, but there was something about you which made the sheriff absolutely smitten. Of course, no one dared admit to seeing his obviously growing affections but the owner knew as long as you were here, and his glass was refilled, he had nothing to worry about. No one quite knows what happened. He went from coming in every Saturday night asking for whichever girl is free and then it went to asking only for you, every week without fail. 

People theorize that maybe it’s your honeyed smile or the sweetness in your voice. The ability to deceive every man into thinking they’re the only one to ever touch you. The ability to put on the act of the farmer’s daughter while having the dirtiest mouth on this side of the Mississippi. No matter what drew him in, the sheriff had declared you his girl and anyone with half a brain knew better than to try to say different. 

Nothing was any different about tonight, you watched from one of the stools at the bar while the other girls worked the room. Sitting with your legs crossed, your dress skirted up high enough to show the tops of your garters, you sip on your drink stealing glances at the doors waiting for him to arrive. You can’t help but let out an impatient sigh, balancing your high heel on your toe as you watch the clock that’s mounted on the wall behind the bar. 

“Slow night?” the bartender asked as she topped off your drink. You smiled, but it fell a little flat, not meeting your eyes. 

“Every man here is scared to come near me,” you chuckle dryly. Not that you were necessarily complaining- but you worried more and more as the savings you kept under your bed dwindled. The sheriff was a regular who paid incredibly well, but he was feared. And no one else would touch what he called his. You wanted to save up to get out of this town, salvage whatever was left of this life and do something. You didn’t want to live cooped up in that room and in this town for the rest of your days. You were luckier than most, that you understood and never tried to forget that, but still you found yourself daydreaming. 

You thought about the men you’ve slept beside and the wild stories they told you. You didn’t want to live a hard life, the tedious and unfulfilling work they told you about. But, oh, you were so envious of how they traveled. Seeing the naked lands of the country and going to different towns. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to do, but you wanted to have the option. So in a little cigar box under your bed. You scrimped and saved what you could from each week. But, being the sheriff’s favorite girl, meant no one else dared touch you, meaning you have been having to open that little box of savings more and more. 

“That ain’t the worst thing in the world,” you heard a voice next to you. Soft, and velvety- you’d recognize the voice anywhere as Dottie, one of the older women who had been working there much longer than you. Middle-aged, but completely sensual in her mannerisms and her voice. She had the ability to captivate an entire room with her prominent curves and everything you know, you learned from her. 

“I know, I know,” you try to explain, but she feels your frustration. She understands it, and she knows it better than you do. She’d been there herself. The restlessness, the feeling of being incomplete, the utter fear of your life being wasted away under men whom you’re never going to fall in love with. She knows.

But she also knows the harsh realities of this world and how it treats lost souls like you, and she doesn’t want to see how it can hurt you like it hurt her. She understood how demeaning this line of work is, and how from here there is no way to move up in the world. It’s a limbo, where you're stuck in this saloon, listening to the complaints of men who despite their hardships will always have it better than you. However, the alternatives for women like you are far less desirable outcomes for your lives. 

“Appreciate the gift you’re being given, sweetness,” she chuckles, watching as the bartender makes her usual. “As long as that sheriff keeps coming around, you’re working less for the same room and board the rest of us pay.” 

You know she’s right. You know there’s so many things wrong about this town you can’t change. You can’t afford to worry about things like that, while so many of the people in this little one room saloon are just trying to survive tomorrow. It’s never going to be an ideal, and the world is much too cruel for miracles to happen for a woman like you who sold their soul. 

Jesus befriended Mary Magdalene, so it never made much sense to you when folks in this town claimed you were damned to spend your own eternity in hell. You weren’t sure if the people in this town actually read the Bible. Granted, you didn’t know much about religion yourself. But long ago you learned religion was a luxury only the wealthy people in this town could afford to follow, and they were the ones who could afford to participate in the sins you peddled. But, that was just one woman’s observation. 

Dottie disappeared back into the crowd as quickly as she arrived, and soon you were back to watching the doors again, waiting for the sheriff to relieve you of your ever growing boredom. The place was in full swing as a posse of men you don’t recognize entered, talking about how they were on their way to the coast, to mine for gold and become millionaires. You can’t help but roll your eyes, and you keep to yourself as they whoop and holler, making demands of the barkeep to send out a round for the whole place on their dime. Their rowdiness makes you flinch, and for the first time tonight, you find yourself anxiously waiting for the appearance of the sheriff so you don’t have to entertain the likes of them. Maybe God does like you, because before one of the men staring at you has an opportunity to saunter over, the saloon doors open suddenly and you can be saved. 

You know you shouldn’t find it thrilling, but there is something about being his favorite that fuels your ego on nights like this. The most commanding man in the town, calling you his- making you have this untouchable status for the night. It was the closest you think you can ever be to royalty. In that bar, on the nights he regulars, you’re a Queen. It’s a rush that's definitely spoiled you and yes, in the moment, you absolutely revel in the power you feel as he changes the atmosphere in the room- with his hardened blue eyes locked right on you. 

“Evening, sheriff,” you coo and shoot him a smile, genuinely happy to see him. 

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Lee, darling?” He smirks, placing his hands on your knee so you uncross your legs and he can stand between them. The feeling of his hands on the exposed skin of your upper thighs sent a tingle right up your spine. His thumbs slowly rubbed circles on your skin, making you shiver. 

You rest your hands on his chest, rubbing gently, your hands shamelessly feeling the strength of his chest under his shirt. You straighten out the gold sheriff’s badge on his chest, and you can feel him tremble slightly at your touch, which strokes your ego more than it already was. 

“I forget,” you tease, straightening out his tie. He smirks, looking down at you as his hands trail up higher, resting on your hips under the skirt of your dress. “I need you to keep coming back and remind me,” you flirt shamelessly. 

“Your usual, sheriff?” the bartender asks over the loud music, people settling back into their own business after the excitement of the sheriff arriving has died down. Lee replies with a quick thank you but doesn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“Did you miss me, darling?” he quips, rubbing your sides, his thumbs trailing across the waistband of your undergarments. 

“I always do,” you wink, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to the side of his jaw. “It’s so slow when you aren’t here,” you practically whine, pouting your lips slightly. 

“I’m sorry about that, sugar,” he mumbles, leaning in and trailing kisses down your neck. 

“It’s your fault you know,” you tease, your nails scratching his scalp affectionately. 

“Is it now?” he chuckles, as he nips at your skin. 

“No one else comes near me,” you admit, and you feel him smile against your skin. 

“Good,” he murmurs against your collarbone. 

“Ice is melting,” you chuckle, referring to the drink he’s ignoring on the counter. He just chuckles, pulling away only long enough to finish the drink in one long sip, and you watch as his Adam’s apple moves, and how the condensation of the glass drips onto his knuckles. 

After he places the empty glass on the counter, you pull his arm to lead him upstairs with you. He takes your hand and let’s you lead the way, he knows like the back of his hand, and at this point better than his own house.

“Impatient, darling?” he teases, “Not going to ask me for a dance?”

“You never say yes,” you giggle, “Figured you want to have some privacy.”

“I might’ve said yes,” he retorts and you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Would you have?” you counter and he shakes his head no with a devilish grin. 

“One of these days, doll.” 

“I’ll be an old maid,” you joke, continuing up the stairs and down the hallway towards your room. 

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he says. You don’t know exactly what he means, but you don’t push him for an explanation. As soon as the door clicks closed behind you both, Lee’s lips attach to yours like if he waits a second longer he’d evaporate. 

“Been dreaming about this,” he mumbles against your neck, leaving a trail of love bites that send a shiver up your spine. “Think about you every night I can’t visit you.”

You noticed how much more intimate your interactions with the Sheriff were gradually becoming. You weren’t sure how much of it he meant. The way he fawned over you and treated you like something more. Plenty of times, men behaved this way, never admitting except behind closed doors that that craved a much deeper sense of intimacy. You had always assumed the Sheriff was no different.

He’d take care of you, and you saw over time the way he handled you changed. It used to be rough and impersonal, oftentimes as well relying on you to do all the work so to speak. But, overtime, his visits became more of a mutual endeavor, and soon he was kissing you like how he is now, or begging to let him settle his head between your parted thighs, saying he felt good making you feel good. 

“I’m addicted to the feeling of your skin, darling,” he whispers as he lets his fingers linger as he pulls the straps of the dress down your arms. When the dress pools at your feet, he stares in awe like it’s the first time seeing you, and then soon enough his lips are on yours again and his hands are free to wander where they please. 

“Most stunning thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers as you work on taking off his shirt, teasingly slow at undoing the buttons. 

“You say that everytime,” you point out and he chuckles, running his hands up and down your sides. 

“Cause I mean it everytime,” he smirks, walking you back until the back of your knees hit the back of your bed and you lay down with him on top of you. 

One time a month or so back, you were sitting on top of the bar counter with him settled between your legs. You were using a rag to wipe blood off of his face after a messy fight that happened. Well, a fight that he started. 

“I didn’t like him looking at you like that,” he grumbled, still fuming and he winces slightly as you press the damp cloth to the cut by his brow. “Shouldn’t be touching you like that,” he slurs, and you can smell the whiskey on his breath. 

“Just means I’m doing my job right,” you chuckle, amused at his possessiveness. “It don’t mean nothing,” you say.

“It don’t mean nothing when it’s me either,” he pouts, with his eyes closed like he could fall asleep standing up. You are convinced he’s just drunk and doesn’t know what he’s saying. He leans on you slightly to keep himself upright, and you move to wipe the blood that is smeared by the corner of his lips. 

He’s so handsome, you can’t help but observe. From a distance, sure he’s gruff and rough around the edges but he’s got the most handsome face you think you’ve ever seen pass through. You’ll never admit to yourself that you were taking your time patching him up so you could just look at him like this for a little longer. It’s always nice sometimes to pretend a situation is something that it’s not. 

“Tell me your mine, darling,” he almost whispers when his eyes flutter open again to look at you. His gaze on you felt heavy and you weren’t sure what to make of it. 

“I’m all yours, Sheriff,” you can’t help but chuckle, thinking he’s just fooling. Just trying to tease you. He frowns and looks so  sad, those damn blue eyes more expressive when he’s drunk. 

“Tell me your mine,” he asks again, like a whispered plea as his eyes roam over your face. 

“I’m yours.”

By the morning, he’s always gone. He always leaves more than necessary, insisting to you the night before not to tell the owner. He doesn’t want him taking a bigger percentage. He whispers not to worry, and to let him take care of you. He knows how much he affects your wages and he wants to do the right thing. 

Lee doesn’t like to pay you. It’s a horrible reminder to him that you don’t actually care one way or another if he shows up or not. It’s the terrible wake up call come morning that you aren’t actually his, as much as he asks you to say it. 

You’d just have to say the word and he’d do just about anything to make you love him back for real. But he knows that this can’t ever go further. You deserve to go off and see the places he hears you tell the other girls about. You don’t think he knows about you wanting to leave but of course he does. 

The pictures of far away cities are hung on your mirror held up between the frame and the glass. There’s a picture of New York that sometimes he’ll stay up staring at, knowing your heart ain’t tied down yet to one place like his is tied here. He can’t leave and he knows he can’t in good conscience ask you to stay. He knows you would, but not for the reasons he wants. 

Good god, you’re still young and have a spark in you that he damn well knows he doesn’t want to be the one to put out. He wants nothing more than for you to look at him and see you could be happy and be in love. But what life is that compared to the life you’re dreaming of. You have hopes, dreams, and Lee knows he isn’t at the center of any of them. 

So for now, he settles for the time you share with him when he comes by like tonight. Where he hopes he can silently tell you with his touches how much he feels for you. Where he can carefully tread the waters of sweet sentiments in hopes you’ll return them without him asking. It’s not real, none of it is. 

He can hold you close and touch every part of your body like it’s only his to see and feel. He can hear every noise you make and watch every reaction to his touches and it fuels him for now. It’s enough for now to leave bruises on your skin and pretend it’s enough to keep others from knowing you’re his. It’s not, because the marks won’t matter. 

He can feel himself inside you, and feel how your body reacts to him. The way to him, nothing will ever come close to the feeling of you around him. He’s addicted and he can’t go back. He’s been ruined by you, and no one else will ever come close to adding up to you. 

But it’s not real. He’ll go home in the morning, and lie to his wife one more time, swearing that it’s the last time he goes back. He’ll tell her he worked late and slept in the Sheriff’s office. He’ll make the promise that he’ll be home on the weekend. But it’s not real. Because, he knows that he’s going to find himself going back to you. And he prays to God you won’t be there.

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[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (6/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Word Count: 2.1k words

Bucky couldn't recall the last time he had a genuine conversation with someone who wasn't his best mates, Sam and Steve. He enjoyed your company and as much as he hated to let his guard down, he wanted to do just that with you. You were everything that Bucky thought he would find repulsive, but he couldn’t help but be attracted towards you. And for the first time he wanted more, he didn't want a one-night stand or a fling with you, he wanted to know you. He admired your courage and bravery, but mostly he admired you. You, with all your stupid yet funny jokes and spontaneity; he liked you more than he would like to admit.

But there was this thing that you were his employee and one meal doesn't count as a date. It was just a meal. But yet, Bucky wanted it to be more. He had never been so intrigued by another person, but it was also clear that you didn't reciprocate his interest. And Bucky would have all of his 206 bones crushed out rather than giving his heart to someone only for it to be not requited. 

So, when you walked into the club the next day, pretending as if nothing had changed, Bucky knew where your relationship lay with him, and he was content with it. Okay, he wasn't content with it, but he knew he couldn't force something that wasn't there. He would choose to be in your life as your boss, acquaintance, or maybe even a friend if he's lucky enough than to not be in your life at all. 

***

When you got settled behind the counter, your mood wasn't that great. It could be because you weren't drunk this time, or maybe because you enjoyed your meal with your boss a little too much for your liking. You wouldn't call it a date, but it sure as hell was a lot better than all the dates or meals you've had with people.

Your good mood was definitely not because of the fact that your mother called only to inform you that this family friend's son is not going to wait around long, and you should at least find a stable job if you can't find a suitable boyfriend. Then she started boasting about your sister and her amazing profession and how she and her husband save lives every day. And you might have had enough of her bullshit and lied that you indeed have a stable job and relationship. None of which is true. 

Bartending only pays the bills, and you haven't had a relationship in years and none of them were serious. You always ran away from any sort of commitment because you knew you would eventually have to introduce your partner to your family and nobody deserves to see that circus, and you told yourself that you're doing a favor to those previous partners by leaving them or as your friends like to call ghosting them. In your defense, dealing with you and your family is more horrific than any scary movie. 

Well, until now because tomorrow your sister and her family are coming to meet your partner and take you back to your parents' place for the weekend. The only problem is that you lied to them about your job and your partner. The worst part is that both of them are pretty non-existent.

"Hey, How are you feeling? " Peter asked you, noticing how you still weren't paying attention to the customer in front of you. 

“Great, not drunk, if that's what you're wondering.” 

“I'm fine," you retorted, glancing at the concerned look Peter was giving you. You quickly took the customer's order and proceeded to make the drink. 

"The last time you said you were fine, you threatened to kill a dude," Pietro interjected, enjoying the faux disbelief that landed on your face. You looked over to Wanda for help, but she just chuckled at her brother's antics.

The rest of the night at work went by as it usually did. Pietro making a sarcastic remark here and there, Wanda countering her brother with a snarky response, you were laughing your ass off watching the duo and Peter awkwardly tried to suppress his amusement. In a weird custom, these three coworkers were the only thing that felt normal. 

By the time you were done, it was mostly you left like always, with the addition of security guards that James added since Rumlow. You wanted to talk to him, especially after the wonderful not date you had, but the situation with him was not under your control anymore and it released from your grasp which scared the shit out of you. If James and you had met under different circumstances, then you would have tried to date him, but with him being your boss and the whole Rumlow thing made everything so complicated, and you didn't have time for any sort of relationship complication in your life. At least that's what you kept telling yourself.

When you were done with your shift and were about to leave, a very familiar voice called for you. You've been trying to ignore him all day and just when you thought you've succeeded, he catches up to you. 

The thing that scared you with James was that you felt safe, too safe with him. You were scared that you were going to become dependent on him for your security, and you hated that. You always despised women who weren't anything except their husband's wife, as if their whole identity was being a man's property. Furthermore, you knew the only thing to be blamed here was patriarchy and men, but you decided that you weren't going to be someone's property, you were going to be your own person. 

And you rebelled a lot to reach here, dyed your hair blue just because your mom told you not to, pursued your dream just because your dad told you to follow a secure nine to four job, left ex-partners because they told you what to and what not to wear. And some part of you knew that James wasn't like that. He wouldn't exploit you and your weaknesses. 

But what you didn't realize was that these were merely excuses that your brain mustered up because you were too scared to be dumped. A long time ago, you decided that it is better to leave than be left. And James — well, James made you feel things that you didn't want to chase. You feared commitment and abandonment too much to go after a guy. 

Your thoughts were brought to a halt when he held your wrist gently and called your name again. Reluctantly, you turned around, pretending to be surprised as if you didn't see him. 

He obviously caught on to you. "Why are you ignoring me?" 

"What?" You scoffed in feign disbelief, taking your hand away from his grasp and setting it on his shoulder. "Why would I ignore you, bud?"

Bud? What the fuck? , both of you thought at the same time.

Carefully, he eyed your hand and then you, "Okay, come on, I'll drop you home."

"No, James, it's fine, I can go on my own." 

"Yes, yes, you are an independent, strong woman but come on," He teased, but you didn't seem to pick up the glint of mischief in his eyes. 

You heard that as a taunt, a taunt your father has told you an ample number of times, that you indeed can never be anything on your own if you don't have a man beside you. While you were lost in your thoughts, James was moving towards his car, assuming that you were following him.

 "But I am," you argued. 

Your voice sounded distant to him, he turned around and walked towards you. "You are what?" 

"I am strong and independent."

"Yes, you are," he agreed as a matter of factly because it was the truth. He had never met someone so strong who would leave behind their whole life to pursue their dreams. He, being the mob boss, and filthy rich couldn't do the same, and he may not tell you this, but he admired you so much. 

Once you got the assurance you needed, you started walking towards his car. "Are you coming or not?" and he followed you. 

Of course, you knew you were strong, but your life had not been going as smoothly as you anticipated. You're stuck in writer's block, your family interference and lack of trust in you hurts like a bitch. You were somewhat crushing on your boss, and you blurted random embarrassing stuff in front of him without thinking. You know, normal crush things. 

When you reached the apartment, he insisted on dropping you to your floor. The car ride was spent in peaceful silence, but the time spent in the elevator was everything but that. No, the fifteen seconds were spent in James fidgeting beside you because he wanted to say something but didn't know how to. 

After you unlocked your door, he finally spoke up. "Um, I was just wondering whether, you know, - I had fun last night and I don't have smooth conversations with people - um, I don't know, I'd like to go out with you again," he didn't finish, but your eyebrows shot up to your forehead and he quickly backpedaled. " Not as a date, if that's what you want. It could be a meal shared between you and your boss. Not that I'm implying that you are obligated to go with me just because I'm your boss. I'm asking this as a stranger, well, not as a stranger but as a friend, I think."

"James,” you spoke softly, and he could feel the denial coming his way.” I had fun too, but you're my boss. This is highly unprofessional."

He signed in defeat and looked at you one last time. There was so much he wanted to say, he wanted to tell you that he enjoyed your company more than he should. He wanted to tell you that he liked you. He wanted to tell you that he wanted to see where this thing would lead with you, but he knew better than that. At the end of the day, you were his employee and if you were to get involved with him in any form, it would only end in your tarnished reputation. So, he nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak much after the clear rejection. "I understand."

"Y/N! ���

Both of you turned towards the source of the voice and frowned. He frowned because he was confused, whereas you, oh, you weren't confused, you were furious at the person standing there and at yourself for forgetting about their arrival.

 "Hi, Carol. I thought you were coming tomorrow," you stated, faking a smile, and everyone in the area could see your distressed attempt at looking excited.

 Well, everyone except your sister because she shrieked with happiness and ran towards you to throw her arms around you. Her husband followed behind and gave you and James an awkward smile.

 "I just couldn't wait to meet my baby sister and we'll take you guys back for the weekend."

You guys, James and you thought at the same time. James looked at the side of your face for an explanation, and you kept looking forward at your sister, avoiding his gaze.

Fuck, you forgot about that. How can you forget about that? You mentally cursed yourself and didn't say anything because you didn't know what to do. 

Your sister picked your silence as her cue to talk and pointed her index finger at James, who was standing beside you now. "Is this him?"

Your sister looked at you, expecting an answer, your brother-in-law looked at you with something called, please hurry up, I just want to go back to the hotel. James looked at you with bewilderment. 

You sighed and took your boss's hand in yours, who also happens to be the most dangerous person in the town. He complied, holding on to you tightly, running his thumb on the back of your hand in a soothing manner. It felt like the most obvious thing as if your hand was made to be held by him. The thought sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, but you were too stubborn to accept it.

"Yes," you finalized. "This is James, my boyfriend."

TAGS: @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @goodcleanfunsis @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407​ @priii​

[lovetorn]

Life Was A Willow [Part 2]

Witch Hunter!Dream x Witch!Fem!Reader

Part 1 Part 3

Summary: It's always been hunters vs. witches, right?

Word Count: 3.6k+

Warnings for Part 2: violence, mentions of death (familial), swearing

A/N: part 2 !!!! thank you so much for the support and feedback from part 1, omg thank you !! well, i hope you enjoy part 2 ahhhhh !!

It’s 9 pm and Y/n still waits for the signal. She looks in the direction of the Castle and swings her feet back and forth from where she sits on the cottage’s roof.

The air is cold and the trees continue to rustle, the same way they do every day, but tonight, she has an eerie feeling about it. Regret slips into her mind sometimes, telling her that she is foolish for even accepting such a vague invitation by someone she doesn’t even know—but it was so intriguing and she trusts them (she doesn’t exactly know why).

Suddenly, a large pop startles Y/n out of her daze. Sparkles dance in the sky as fireworks burst from the land below. She quickly notes that the explosions are coming from the West side of the Castle and takes that as the signal. Very grand indeed.

Y/n jumps from the roof, landing gracefully on the dirt, and takes off running through the forest. She misses tree roots emerging from the earth and ducks under low branches from the undergrowth. The only thing that lights her path is the moonlight and at this moment, Y/n is thriving. The full moon allows her abilities to heighten and she places her full trust in her instincts.

The fireworks continue to explode and Y/n fills with more adrenaline, the sound making her scream out in joy. She’s excited about the meeting, and she doesn’t even know who it is. And maybe that’s what she’s eager for; the unknown.

The entirety of the concept scared her before, but now she’s exhilarated. And as the show comes to a close, Y/n nears the East side of the Castle. It’s completely silent at this end and the eerie feeling she had before creeps back. It’s not a feeling of uncertainty but one of opportunity and her instincts are telling her to take it.

When she reaches the abandoned cottage, Y/n inhales sharply. There’s no light coming from the house and the door remains closed. As she steps onto the stairs in front, the wood creams beneath her and she scolds for giving away herself to the person inside. Instead of sneaking around, Y/n stomps towards the door and swings it open.

She sees a man in the corner and makes her way towards him, her hands out and ready in case this interaction goes south.

“Who are you? And how do you know me?” Y/n calls out. The man jumps slightly and lifts his head. And in the moonlight flooding in through the window, Y/n recognises him as Dream, even with his mask off. He stands in a white button-up and brown pants, his hunter boots on and a newsboy hat sat on his blonde hair.

“Dream?”

“Hi, Y/n. I knew you would recognise me.” Y/n doesn’t want to look away from him. This is the first time she’s seen his face, and despite the darkness, she sees how handsome he is.

“Why—how? Why did you want to meet me in such a creepy way?” Y/n asks in disgust, picking a cobweb out of her hair and then off of her shoulder; they seem to be everywhere. Her expression falls back to one of admiration when she looks back at him. However, the moonlight lacked the light Y/n needed to see him properly.

Dream laughs slowly. “I forgot to bring a lighter for the lamp. Do you think you could, uh—maybe,”

“Glady,” Y/n sighs and flicks her hand towards the candle in the glass encasing. It immediately comes to life and the room becomes brightly lit. Her eyes fall onto Dream again and she finally sees him; his piercing green eyes and the scar that runs from the top of his left temple to the corner of his lip.

“Wow,” Dream mumbles under his breath. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you, and I know that everybody I know would, just, obliterate me for even thinking about doing this, but I needed to talk to you about—“

“You’re rambling.”

“Right, right...”

Y/n squints at the man and then tilts her head. “Whose C?”

Dream’s eyes widen as he nods. “Yeah, uh, that’s me. My name’s Clay.”

The witch doesn’t say anything as she stares at him. “So why do they call you Dream?”

This isn’t where Dream thought the conversation would go, but he’s happy they’re not fighting.

“My mother came up with the nickname when I was born. I nearly didn’t make it and then through some miracle, I did. So, she called me her Dream.” Y/n can tell the story makes him emotional, so she doesn’t push any further.

“That’s really sweet, Dream.” And at the sound of his real name, Dream perks up slightly before he cracks a smile. Y/n grins back at him; a real genuine smile. The pair stand in the low lit room in comfortable silence, until Y/n’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“What did you want to talk about?” She asks. Dream nods once and continues from where he was cut off before.

“I wanted to discuss the possibility of a truce between witches and hunters,” Dream isn’t smiling anymore, instead his lips are screwed up and his hands fidget in front of him. Y/n, however, grins even bigger.

“I’m all for that, honestly. I’m tired of being on edge every day and being scared for my life. If we can find a way to create peace, even for a little bit, I’m on board.” Y/n keeps it short for now, not wanting to scare him off by how passionate she feels about the situation.

Dream’s eyes light up at the sound of her agreeing. “Really?” Y/n nods and becomes surprised when she feels Dream’s arms wrap around her. “Thank you, thank you.”

“No, Dream, thank you! I’ve been trying to convince people of this for years. I’m really glad that you feel the same way.” The pair pull apart and Dream flicks his eyes down to Y/n’s lips for a split second.

“You’re so pretty,” Y/n nearly chokes at his comment. Dream feels his cheeks burn when the words tumble out and soon they’re both flustered. “Sorry! Oh my, I’m sorry, that didn't mean to slip out—”

“Dream, it’s fine. I think you’re pretty too; especially without the mask.”

The hunter swats the witch’s shoulder playfully. “Stop~” The pair laugh together, and then proceed to stand in another comfortable silence. The wind howls and whistles outside and makes the cottage creak, adding to the eerie aura that surrounds it.

“What’s with the hat? It’s nighttime.”

Dream plucks the accessory off of his head and runs his opposite hand through his hair, the soft locks falling back into place when his hand returns to his side. “Part of the disguise, duh.”

Y/n squints at him, her expression morphing into one of mischief. “Isn’t the mask a disguise in itself, though? Also, put the hat back on, you look handsome with it.” It’s time for Dream to blush now. He covers his face with his hat and scoffs softly. “Y/n!”

The girl slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her embarrassed laughs. “It’s true!”

The man rolls his eyes before placing the hat back on his head. “Happy?”

Y/n nods before telling him to answer about the mask.

“Well, no, nobody at the Castle actually knows what I look like—except for my best friends, Sapnap and George.”

“George? As in Prince George?” Y/n is shocked, to say the least. She now understands why Dream is so passionate about the peace between the Hunters and Witches. Prince George is known for his differing morals and ideas from his family, which makes him stand out from the other Royals. Y/n admires his bravery and courage to do so.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since we were young. I’m jealous that he can be so open with his opinions in that Castle—Lord knows if I was, I'd be executed,” This makes Y/n’s stomach drop. “But, it’s okay, with your help, hopefully, we can convince humans and magical-kind alike, that there can be peace. A—And we can live together in harmony, without being consumed by the overbearing thought of death every moment of our lives.”

Dream stops his tangent, his face flushed and his eyes pleading. Y/n feels like crying; she has waited years for someone to be as passionate as her about this topic. “I’ll help you, Dream, no matter what; because I wholeheartedly believe we can do this. I trust you.”

Y/n shocks herself with this statement; she’s never trusted a human before.

“And I trust you Y/n.” The pair stare at each other, smiles spread across their cheeks as the night outside slips away, and then it’s just them; standing in the main area of a small, abandoned cottage that sits East of the Castle, lit up with a lantern that casts a warm glow over the pair. Y/n can almost say it looks and feels magical.

“Ok, enough flirting, let’s get planning on the truce. Sounds like a plan, doll?” Dream gives her a lopsided smile and Y/n feels her heart rate increase at the sight of him.

“Where were you?” Wilbur says. His voice is deeper than usual and fits in perfectly with the way he’s sitting ominously in the dark. Y/n stops tiptoeing towards her room and turns to face him; defeated that she got caught. However, she still remains giddy and her heart beats faster for other reasons.

“I was meeting with Schlatt—I need more toadstools for a potion I’m making.”

Wilbur squints at her, his lips curling into a frown. “I know you’re lying, and so does Niki.”

Y/n sighs and starts walking towards him. “I’m sorry—“ She pauses when she sees Wilbur shake his head.

“Don’t.”

Y/n screws her lips together and nods once. Her once excited demeanour fading away when she sees Wilbur’s look of disappointment. “I was meeting one of the new hunters, Dream.”

Wilbur furrowed his eyebrows, “What? Why?”

“We’re formulating a truce amongst witches and hunters.”

He raises his eyebrows in both surprise and suspicion. “Okay? And why are you doing this? We don’t need peace.”

“Uh, so we’re not in danger every living second?” Y/n’s nerves grow into anger. “Why are you so against the chance of maybe, finally getting this?”

Wilbur shakes his head and stands up, the chair screeching against the wood floors as he moves. “Haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?”

Y/n is at a loss for words while the tall man rolls his eyes and leaves, avoiding her as he circles around her to walk down the hallway.

His abrupt exit confuses Y/n. Why is Wilbur so against peace with the Hunters?

—

Dream manages to sneak into the Hunter’s Wing before they lock the front doors for the night. He sits silently on the bench in the training room and slips his boots off, making sure to place them on the floor as quiet as possible. He takes his hat off of his head and holds it in his palms, smiling stupidly at the inanimate object. The flame in the lantern next to him is fizzling out and it's hard to see 4 feet in front of him.

“Dream?” Even in his daze, Dream can sense the anger and fear in Sapnap’s voice.

“Sapnap? Why are you awake?” The younger boy walks out from the hallway and towards him.

“Me? Where were you? It’s midnight.”

Dream sighs and rests the hat on the bench next to him. “I was out.”

“Out? You mean meeting with the witch?”

Dream’s eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

“Fireworks don’t just go off for no reason, Dream. And I found the note in your room.” Sapnap says, ripping the letter from his pyjama bottoms pocket.

“Just say you have a crush on her, Dream!” Sapnap yells, throwing his arms up in defeat.

“I don't—I promise, Sapnap.”

“Fine, if you don’t like the witch, then kill her.” Dream’s dumbfounded. He stares at his best friend with such bewilderment that even Sapnap feels a twinge of guilt. Dream sighs, carding his hand through his hair in frustration and confusion.

He doesn’t reply, even when George arrives in a hurry, still in the process of wrapping a dressing gown around his body.

“What’s happened? I heard yelling.” The pair remain frozen, refusing to meet the Prince’s glare as they avoid eye contact.

George shakes his head, “Has this got to do with Dream meeting with the witch?”

“George! How do you know, too?”

George huffs. “I know everything that happens in and outside of my Castle. But, fireworks? Really?”

Dream throws his hands down in frustration. “Yes, fireworks! It was a good distraction and it was a signal for her anyway.”

George eyes the blonde before he crosses his arms over his chest. “As much as you hate to admit it, it's obvious that you’re fond of her, Dream. And no matter what happens, I’ll be by your side, okay? You know that.”

“What the fuck?” Sapnap spits. “You have his back? George, I can tolerate your ideals about the magical kind, but this is the witch who killed half of the hunter population.”

Dream stills. “What?”

“You’ve gone and done it now, Sapnap!”

“Y/n killed people?”

“Dream—“ George goes to speak, but he’s cut off by Sapnap.

“Yes! That’s why I’ve been trying to warn you! Why do you think we got this job so easily?” Dream stares at the concrete floor, his heart dropping into his stomach. He can’t believe it, he refuses to.

“Sapnap!” George snaps. The younger boy cowers away slightly, his once confronted facade crumbling at the sound of the Prince's tone. “Stop it, right now. You are in no place to tell him this, okay? You may be my best friend but that doesn’t excuse you from doing this.”

Dream chews on his bottom lip quietly as he watches Sapnap turn around and stomp out of the training room, but not before he scrunches up the letter and throws it on the floor. “Thanks.”

George’s gaze remains on the door. “Don’t thank me. He should know better anyway, considering his last relationship.”

The blonde nods once, reminding himself of the youngest boy’s past relationship with a fairy from the kingdom next door. Dream lets out a laugh at the thought.

For the next few days, Y/n hears nothing from Dream. She worries for him, has he been caught?

She stands on the porch of her cottage, hoping, begging for a sign that he is okay. Clouds plague the blue skies above and Y/n knows the bad omens swirling around the kingdom are the cause—and the inside of Niki’s crystal ball had burst with black and dark red clouds which had only confirmed her suspicions.

The wind howls through the trees and calls to her, speaking words of concern under its tongue. Y/n rolls her eyes and sighs, she knows to be careful, especially with the humans inching closer to their world.

However, a faint voice draws Y/n’s attention away from the wind and to the well in the corner of the garden. The sound confuses her at first, and then the wind’s guidance is forgotten as she makes her way towards it. The short fence around the area is still broken from the fight with the hunters weeks ago, and nobody has had a chance to repair it yet, so Y/n takes it upon herself to fix it.

The whispers from the well become a string of mumbles and are impossible to decipher as Y/n kneels with her back towards the forest—and for the first time, she is anxious about what lies within it.

But, before she can even begin picking up the pieces of wood, the sound of someone approaching her at a fast pace alerts Y/n immediately. She spins around with her hands out and is shocked when she sees Dream with his sword raised. The ground moves beneath her feet as she uses the earth’s power to aid her in meeting his strength.

“Dream?” She screams, her body struggling to resist the force of his weapon. Sparkles fall from her fingertips as she pushes back.

“You killed an entire army of people, Y/n!” Dream’s tone is low and angry and Y/n knows he would have found out eventually.

“Dream, I didn’t do that!” Y/n exclaims and Dream swings his sword backwards.

“How can I trust you? Hm? After all, you’ve killed people!” Y/n could cry at his utter naivety. She drops her arms by her sides as Dream glares at her in pure disgust.

“Instead of fighting, can we talk about this?” Y/n pleas. Her feet move swiftly beneath her, maneuvering her body away from Dream’s sword.

Suddenly, Dream brings the sword down to slice into Y/n’s arm, but a force pushes it back towards him, making the blade fly high into the air before it clatters onto the ground.

Y/n stands with her hands out, remnants of glitter falling around her fingers. “I told you! I’d never do that, and I have proof.”

“Proof?” Dream still stares at his sword, unable to meet Y/n’s eye.

“Proof. Now, how about we calm down and I’ll show it to you. Okay? Sounds like a plan?” Dream nods slowly, turning his head to face her. Finally, his green eyes soften and the raging fire that burns within them fizzles out.

“Okay.”

Y/n sighs before she begins. “When a witch kills an innocent; a human, they gain a marking on the back of their neck to signify the betrayal of the harmony between the two. However, since King James, that peace has been terminated; hence his need for hunters, like yourself.

“But, anyway, everybody in this damn kingdom thinks I killed those hunters, but I don’t have the mark,” Y/n turns around, her hand going to lift up her hair from her neck. The skin is clear, with no markings, nothing.

Dream nods, furrowing his eyebrows. “How do I know you didn’t just cast a spell to make it disappear?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “There’s no way to cover up the marking; it’ll just shine through whatever you put over it. It’s permanent and very obvious.”

“I told you, Dream, I didn’t kill them. I’d never kill an innocent.”

“Why didn’t you show them, then? You've had proof this entire time and never thought to actually show anyone?” Dream is bewildered. Y/n nods slowly, understanding his argument.

“I don't need to prove myself to your kind.” Is all she says. Dream waits for her to continue but soon realises she's not going to. “Fair point.”

“So, why did you come at me swinging? Did you really believe I would do that?” She whispers and Dream feels his heart sink. He is speechless for a few moments—did he really think that? Or was he feeding into Sapnap’s ideology of witches?

“S—Sapnap convinced me of things. I didn’t believe it at first, but the more he went on—I guess he got into my head.”

Y/n cocks her eyebrow and scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, he did. You could’ve easily killed me with the amount of anger you had.”

This makes Dream’s breath catch in his throat. “I—I’m so sorry, Y/n. That was never my intention—”

The witch shakes her head and holds her hand up. “It’s okay, Dream. You didn’t offend me. I’m still here, with you, right? Isn’t that enough to tell you that I’m not angry?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry—”

“Stop saying sorry, it’s annoying.” Y/n giggles, holding her hand out to grasp Dream’s.

“So—”

“Dream!”

The cottage is quiet, too quiet, and Y/n walks into the small kitchen, hoping to bake a cake to cure her boredom. But, Wilbur sits at the round dining table, his beanie and a sewing needle in his hands.

“Wil, I wanted to talk to you,” Y/n mumbles, pulling out a chair. Wilbur doesn’t meet her eye as she does so, continuing to patch up his beanie that got ripped on a tree last week.

“Why are you against harmony with humans?”

Wilbur sighs softly. He places the beanie on the table and turns to face Y/n. “Y/n, when I was young, I lived amongst the humans in a town not far from here. We tried as hard as we could to mix in and not draw attention to ourselves.”

The girl listens intently, both curious and scared for his answer. She can tell the story makes him anxious so she reaches for his hand that lays on the wooden table. “Go on, Wil. I’m here.”

Wilbur nods, his eyes already full of tears as he continues.

“However, one day, my family decided to move to a more secluded area within the town, so my father could teach me more about magic without the risk of being caught. When we entered our new cottage in the forest, we were ambushed and they killed my entire family, leaving me, the only child, alone. I was left there, with my parents' bodies for weeks. I was made to fend for myself until I found Niki in a cave several years later. I was only 7, Y/n.”

Tears cascade down both of their cheeks. Wilbur takes in a shaky breath before he collapses onto the table out of grief. Y/n immediately leaps into action, wrapping her arms around the older man and letting him use her for support. His broken sobs and heart-wrenching cries stab Y/n all over, and she immediately regrets asking him about it.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Wilbur,” She didn’t push anymore, and that was all Wilbur needed.

[yellowsuitcase]

I missed you // Draco Malfoy

A/N: This was an anonymous request I received about 4 days ago. It took me a while to write it because school was A LOT this week and I’ve been so exhausted from trying to keep up with everything. I’ve also started trying to shift so if anyone has any tips on that, please let me know! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Draco and Y/N have mutually broken up and have started experimenting with other people. But it’s only a matter of time before Draco gets jealous.

Warning(s): Swearing

Word Count: 2.5k 

It was for the best. Wasn’t it? He didn’t love her anymore, and nor did she. That happens sometimes. People just fall out of love. It was mutual; there was no fight, nobody was angry. The relationship had run its course, no feed to fuss about it. Besides, it wouldn’t have made sense for them to remain, boyfriend and girlfriend, when they’d each lost feelings.

If all of that is true...then why does it hurt so much? Y/N wondered as she lay flat on her back, the bedsheets around her in disarray from all her tossing and turning. She knew there was no way she’d find sleep easily tonight, not after the breakup. She felt as if a piece of her had been forcefully ripped from her. But why? She had a hunch for almost an entire month that she’d lost feelings for Draco. Shouldn’t she have been prepared for the end? Alas, Y/N knew that completely preparing oneself for a breakup is an impossible feat. 

These thoughts swirled through her brain as she finally closed her eyes. She clutched the sheets in her palms, trying to ground herself. Her forehead was tense with wrinkles as she was already anticipating the nightmares. But nevertheless, after a few more minutes of restlessness, her body’s need for slumber overtook her.

When she awoke the next morning, she could practically feel the bags sitting under her eyes. She could only guess that her sleep had been plagued with nightmares as she was lucky enough not to have any recollection. Her head pounded as she sat up in her bed. Her roommate gave her a pitiful and knowing look. Y/N took in a deep breath and clambered out of bed.

It didn’t take her very long to get ready since she frankly didn’t care whether or not she looked presentable today. She made sure her teeth were brushed and that her tie was on correctly and walked out of the dorms. Truthfully, she knew she wasn’t very hungry, but people would ask questions if she missed breakfast. While walking to the Great Hall, she was startled by someone jumping right in front of her.

“Good morning!” George Weasley said. “Why the long face?”

Y/N gave him a weak smile and said, “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

George looked skeptical but pushed no further. He fell into step beside her.

“Where’s Freddie?” she asked.

“Morning detention with Filch, he slipped a puking pastille into his drink.”

“You had nothing to do with it?” she asked, a doubtful smile on her lips.

George shrugged, smirking as he did so. “I have my ways,” he said while bumping her shoulder slightly. She looked up at him with a fake mean glare as they strode into the Great Hall. Y/N caught sight of Draco immediately. He was where he always sat in the morning. Usually, she would’ve made a beeline for the space next to him. Today, that spot was taken by Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl who had always taken a keen liking to Draco. Y/N stopped in her tracks and stared. Pansy was fawning over him, running her hands up his arms. Y/N felt anger begin to rise in her chest...but then she remembered. 

Shaking her head, she forced her feet to follow George to where he had sat down at the Gryffindor table. He was talking animatedly with his mates and didn’t notice Y/N standing behind him awkwardly while she tried to figure out whether or not she was wanted at the table; she was a Slytherin after all.

George eventually took notice of the presence behind him when his friend nodded his head towards her. “Y/N, did you want to sit? Thought you’d be with Malfoy. Has something happened?”

She sighed as she threw her leg over the bench and sat down. “Yeah, we broke up,” she said softly.

“Broke up? He didn’t do anything, did he?” George asked while turning to look at Draco.

“No, no. It was mutual. He didn’t do anything.”

“Good. Well, cheer up then. You’re a free woman now. The world is yours, right?” 

Y/N smiled at George. “Yeah, you’re right, it is. I don’t know why I’ve been sulking so much. I lost feelings, and so did he. Nothing more to it.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit! Who needs Malfoy anyway?” George bellowed, successfully making Y/N giggle. She felt her stomach rumble. This surprised her; she didn’t expect to be in a good enough mood to be hungry. But the buttered rolls on the table now looked extremely appetizing.

---------

{A few months later}

Draco paced back and forth in front of the mirror. He was nervous. In nearly twenty minutes, he’d be on his first date since breaking up with Y/N. He couldn’t believe he was really going on a date. With Pansy Parkinson, nonetheless. These past few months, she’d really grown on him. She was from a pureblood family, she was kind to him, and she was rather pretty. Draco knew his parents would love her. He could only hope he could grow to do the same.

He gathered his courage and left the bathroom. They had agreed to meet outside the potions classroom. It was an odd location, but Pansy suggested it, and Draco had no reason to object it. As he walked down the middle of the corridors, his mind began to race. What would she be wearing? Would she like him? Would they become boyfriend and girlfriend after this? Would Y/N find out? What would she think?

Draco’s face grew tense. What a silly thought to have. He wouldn’t actually date Pansy. And as for Y/N, he knew she wouldn’t care. She and George have had a thing for a few weeks now. They were always holding hands or sitting shoulder to shoulder, lovey-dovey stuff like that. He had even given her a kiss on the cheek. The image of it was burned into Draco’s memory.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw Pansy outside the classroom. She had her back leaned against the wall. She donned a dark green dress that reached her mid-thigh. Her hair was wavy and fell over her bare shoulders. Draco exhaled sharply. He felt the anxiety in his stomach but was determined not to show it.

“You clean up nice, Parkinson,” he said cooly and confidently while nodding his chin towards her. 

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Thank you, Malfoy. You look handsome as well,” she said while scanning him up and down, her voice slow and sensual. Draco shifted his feet, feeling uncomfortable. “Shall we?” he asked. Pansy smirked and pushed off the wall and sauntered over to him. She reached for his hand and grasped it tightly in hers. Draco had to fight the internal instinct to wriggle his hand out of hers.

Just as they were about to go, they heard a noise from behind them. They turned around saw none other than Y/N, her arms full of potion ingredients and notebooks. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Stealing potion ingredients, Y/N?” Pansy asked with a knowing smirk on her face.

Y/N’s eyes shifted back and forth between the pair. When her eyes landed on their interlocked fingers, she straightened her spine and frowned. “You know perfectly well that we have a section that’s open to students. And it’s none of your business anyway,” she spat.

But Pansy was unfazed. “Lavender, Flobberworm mucus, and valerian sprigs. What’s wrong, Y/N? Can’t fall asleep? Oh no, don’t tell me you get nightmares,” Pansy taunted, using a voice one might use when speaking to a baby or a dog.

Draco watched as Y/N’s face turned red. He knew she’d always struggled with nightmares and would often have to make herself a sleeping draught potion to be able to get some genuine rest. As he looked at the ingredients in her hands, he noticed she was short on a few of them.

“You don’t have enough,” he said without thinking. Both girls’ eyes turned to him. He ignored Pansy’s and instead focused on Y/N’s.

She waited a few beats before replying, “Snape has stopped refilling the supply. He said I need to stop relying on it so much,” she muttered. Her head had turned away from the couple. Draco’s eyebrows knitted together. When did she become so dependent on those potions? While they were together, she’d only need it maybe once every few weeks.

He didn’t have time to wonder about it any further. Pansy had begun walking and dragged Draco with her. Leaving Y/N alone in the cold dungeons, watching them go.

----------

Draco stared through the leaves of the tree he lied underneath. Classes were over, and he was relaxing before Crabbe and Goyle were bound to come and bother him. The week had dragged on for what seemed like years. Frankly, he was ready to crawl into bed and sleep the next few days away, but he had already made plans for the weekend. 

He allowed his eyes to close, and the stress from the week began to leave his body. But his peacefulness was short-lived. Loud cheers made their way to his ears. He sat up angrily, ready to hex whoever decided to irritate him. However, all that frustration dissipated when he saw what people were cheering for. When he saw it, time seemed to stop.

George was holding Y/N in his arms, she was parallel with the ground, and her lips were pressed against his. He was kissing her passionately while her hands gripped his shirt collar.

Draco felt his heart sink. The only word running through his brain was “no.” No, no, no, no. After he watched the scene in front of him for nearly a minute, he decided he couldn’t stand it any longer. He jumped to his feet and stomped out of the courtyard, passing Pansy as he did so.

“Draco, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked, her face was strewn up in confusion as to why Draco’s shoulders were heaving. 

“Not now, Parkinson,” Draco snapped.

“But Draco—”

“Shut up! Merlin, do you ever shut that trap of yours?” he shouted at her. Her eyes widened in shock, but Draco paid her no mind. He was halfway down the corridor when he thought better of himself and turned around. Rage overtook his body as he stormed back into the open courtyard and headed right for George and Y/N. They noticed him coming towards them and took a few steps back. George took Y/N’s hand and pulled her behind him.

“What d’you want Malfoy?” 

“Move, Weaslebee, I’m not here for you.”

George pursed his lips and withdrew his wand. He was intent on not letting Malfoy come any closer to the girl behind him. “If you’re here for her, you’re not getting her.”

Draco clenched his fists and also withdrew his wand. He aimed it straight at George’s face. “Move,” he demanded.

George widened his stance and raised his wand towards the blonde boy. “No,” he said firmly.

Draco inhaled and opened his mouth, but before he could hex George, a golden light shot towards Draco’s hand, and suddenly his wand was thirty feet across the yard.

Y/N emerged from behind George. Her wand was clutched in her palm. “There’s no need to fight. I can decide whether I want to speak with someone, and I certainly don’t need protection. So if you’ll excuse me, it’s obvious that Draco and I need to have a chat.”

She didn’t waste a moment; she began to make her way towards the exit. Draco quickly came to his senses and went to fetch his wand before hurrying after her.

He followed her through many hallways before she stopped outside the Slytherin dorms. “Salazar,” she muttered. The walls opened up before her, and she and Draco walked down the stairs into the eerie common room.

Y/N took a seat at the couch on the left of the fireplace. It was the couch they’d use to cuddle on after a long day. It felt weird to sit on it now since they both sat on opposite ends.

“Let’s not waste time,” she said, “you’re obviously upset. Care to tell me why?”

Draco scoffed and threw his arm over the back of the leather sofa. “Weasley, huh?”

“Draco, don’t be a git. We’ve been broken up for months. I’m allowed to see other people, aren’t I? I mean, you went on a date with Pansy.”

He shook his head vehemently and shifted in his seat. He couldn’t sit still, he was so angry.

“Speak, Draco. You know we can’t work any of our issues out if you don’t speak,” Y/N reminded him.

He let out an angry sigh and turned to face his ex-girlfriend. He had expected her to look just as mad as him, but instead, her eyes were filled with worry and concern. Her hand was pressed into the couch, and her body was slightly leaning forward. Draco felt the fire within his chest begin to die. He took another breath before talking.

“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it, Y/N. Seeing you with someone else fucking kills me. It makes me so angry. When he kissed you, I… I forgot how to breathe. It was like a dementor had come and sucked all the happiness from my veins. I was infuriated, not just at him but at myself. How could I let someone else hold you?”

Y/N stared at him with soft, gentle eyes. Slowly, she reached for his rigid fist that was resting on his lap. She took it into her hands and felt the tension leave. She had always had that effect on Draco. Her touch was able to calm his stiffness with ease.

“What am I saying?” Draco wondered out loud as he shamefully wiped a tear from his cheek, “you’re not mine anymore. I know that, and yet…” he trailed off.

“Then make me yours again,” Y/N whispered.

Draco’s head whipped towards her. He saw a look of nervousness on her face. Steadily, he took her head into his hands. He moved his head slightly below hers, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Almost as if he was afraid to ask.

Y/N nodded her head, “I do. God, I do. It’s always been you, Draco. I’m so sorry—” She was cut off by Draco pulling her in for a kiss. Y/N felt herself melt into his embrace; she felt at home again. 

He pulled away to catch his breath. “I’m sorry too. I never stopped loving you. I know that now. Please, let me be yours again.” 

Y/N smiled, “I missed you, Malfoy,” she said with a small chuckle. Draco felt a grin spread on his face, and he dove back in for another kiss. 

“I missed you more. Don’t you ever let me walk away from you again, you hear?” Draco asked playfully. Y/N laughed and gave him a quick peck on the nose.

“I solemnly swear,” she said in a fake deep voice while trying not to giggle. Draco rolled his eyes and tackled her onto the couch, causing her to squeal happily. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, vowing to himself to never let go of her again.

[lxngbottom]

More mute fic pls omg

Mute | N.L (Part 2)

in which the reader doesn’t talk, and neville is still trying to change that.

warnings: some angst, bullying, swearing (let me know if there are more!)

word count: 2,877

i wasn’t planning on making a part 2 to this but you ask i deliver!! but, maybe a part 3 as well if i feel like the story isn’t finished!

PART 1 HERE!

—

since that day in the library, neville longbottom could not seem to get y/n off of his mind. she ran through it like a marathon, but neville enjoyed every second of it. he couldn’t seem to forget the little giggle that left your lips on that day, or the way you uttered that “goodnight” to him.

he came to visit her quite a few times in the library after that. he wouldn’t go everyday unlike her, due to the fact he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. he liked spending time with you, even if the conversations were one sided. but, he couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room...

she still had yet to say anything else.

so when today came, he was prepared to get some progress. he felt some sort of guilt due to the fact he would never want to make her feel like you were some sort of experiment to him, or to anyone else. he just hated seeing her so lonely.

the great hall rung out with the sound of chattering and gossip as breakfast continued. neville found himself searching for y/n, as she hadn’t shown up yet. but, when she finally walked in with two books grasped into her hand, a bright smile formed onto the boy’s face.

“what are you so cheery about, longbottom?” seamus asked with a raised eyebrow. but it didn’t take him long to realize what his herbology loving friend was so happy about. because he looked over at where neville was staring, and he connected the dots. “merlin’s beard... you fancy mute!”

dean and him chuckled at the thought,

“what?! no i don’t! and... don’t call her that.” neville clapped back, finally ripping his eyes away from y/n.

“oh, it’s alright, longbottom. we’re just messing with you. but seriously, if you fancy her, why don’t you ask her out?” dean asked, hitting seamus on the shoulder.

neville shrugged, “she won’t talk.”

seamus rolled his eyes, “well, no shit.”

the three boys looked over at her, and her nose was dug into the same herbology book she had checked out a week ago. the look on her face would confirm that she seemed content with how the day was going so far.

but, of course, the slytherins had to change that.

as y/n was reading up on the finer details of a water plant, she felt something hit the back of her head. neville quickly looked over, and saw malfoy and his goons laughing like a pack of wild dogs. he looked over to y/n once more, and saw her staring at the piece of toast that had settled on landing on the floor.

she sighed, but decided to ignore it.

“hey, mute!” malfoy called out for her, another piece of toast in hand. y/n looked behind her, locking eyes with the white haired boy. “think fast!”

he threw another piece, this time right on her face. and sure enough, it was covered in butter and jam. it hit right on her cheek, and it stuck for a moment before sliding off onto her jumper.

for once, the expression on her face leaked pure anger. she whipped her head around once more, and her mouth fell open for one single moment to speak. it seemed as if the whole slytherin table went quiet for a moment, just waiting for her to say something. anything.

neville as well sat, staring intently at her. he just wanted to her stand up for herself, at least once.

but, as the words attempted to crawl their way out of her, they went right back down. she couldn’t muster up the strength to say anything,

“got something to say, mute?” draco teased, flashing a grin at her, “oh, wait. i forgot. you can’t talk!”

his friends all chuckled at malfoy’s stupid joke, and y/n simply collected her things, and dashed out of the great hall.

neville sighed, his fist clenched from aggravation.

“maybe... some speech therapy would work?” dean suggested suddenly, and neville shook his head.

—

care for magical creatures was never something that neville found interesting, but he enjoyed walking out into nature with his friends, hearing hagrid ramble on about dragons and how there living environments are.

“this ere’ creature is a classic, but an ol’ favorite of mine. i’m sure yer’ all familiar with it,” hagrid spoke excitedly, walking over to a random tree bush.

all of the students watched intently as he bent down, and grabbed the unknown creature from the bush. y/n seemed just as intrigued as anyone else did. and neville couldn’t help but smile at the way you got on your tippy toes to see what creature hagrid had in store for everyone today.

“he’s er’ a bit hungry today. but, that’s why you all are ere’ i pose’,” hagrid explained, and finally, he pulled out the mystery creature hiding behind the bush. the students let out a mantra of “awww’s” as hagrid carried a niffler in his hand. he walked up closer to everyone, showing the creature off a little.

“nifflers don’t really ever bite. unless, of course’, you makin’ him angry!”

y/n stared at the creature intently, and focused on writing down the physical details. what color it was, what shape it was. she would never admit it, but she absolutely loved care for magical creatures. it was one of her favorite classes, as she loved learning about the cutest creatures and how they lived their lives.

“he’s cute, isn’t he?” y/n heard from right beside her. she looked over and saw neville longbottom, smiling lightly at her. “were we supposed to take notes? oh dear...”

y/n quickly shook her head at his worry, and closed her notebook. she could do research on nifflers at some other time.

neville and y/n stood beside each other, listening to hagrid’s lesson. neville would glance over at her, just to remind himself of how she looked. her face was morphed into a focused one, and she bit the inside of her lip. he couldn’t help to notice her side profile, and how perfectly constructed the girl seemed to be.

“right’, who wants to feed him?” hagrid asked the large group of students, and all of them automatically shot their hands up in the air, wanting nothing more to pet the niffler.

y/n wanted to, she wanted to do bad, but, she couldn’t raise her hand. she didn’t have the courage to. neville noticed that it was killing her to not be one of the kids to raise their hand, and he could tell that she genuinely wanted to feed the niffler.

hagrid skimmed through the students, pondering on who he should pick. but out of all of the students, he noticed one who didn’t in fact have her hand raised. but, looked quite interested.

“miss y/l/n, is it? come on ver’ ere’!”

y/n’s eyes widened, and everyone looked at her. they all huffed and rolled their eyes as she slowly approached hagrid. neville of course, had the goofiest smile laid upon his round face. he was happy that she got picked, even if she didn’t raise her hand for it.

“ere’, hold him for just one moment,” hagrid requested, passing the niffler over to y/n. when she obtained it, she smiled softly.

the niffler seemed to take notice to the girl’s feature, and he nibbled at the ends of her hair as hagrid grabbed the food. “aye! what i’d tell ye’ about nibblin’ on young ladies hair?! it’s not nice!”

y/n giggled at hagrid’s “parenting”, and pet the niffler on the top of the head. some students seemed to be shocked that she let out a small laugh such as that one, but neville was in bliss.

“right’, jus’ take a piece...” hagird began, reaching into the bag of food, “and just put it by its beak!”

hagrid did so, and the niffler almost chomped on his fingers from how hungry he was. hagrid let out a chuckle, as well as y/n as the hungry niffler chewed on its food. “yer’ turn, miss?”

and y/n repeated the same thing. she smiled as the niffler made small noises, and reached for more food. “one more!” hagrid barked, and popped the piece of food right into it’s mouth.

hagrid began to explain the finer details of nifflers, and what they really were. y/n held the niffler patiently, playing with it a little as hagrid kept on with today’s lesson.

“see, somethin’ else they love is for a wizard er’ witch to speak to em’. they can be quite the talkative creature,”

y/n’s eyes went wide from the giant’s statement, and she started to hope & pray that hagrid’s next choice of words weren’t going to be what she thought they might be.

but, her hopes were faltered;

“go on! tell em’ yer’ name!”

neville stared, knowing what was probably coming next. he could tell from the drop in her face that she was anxious,

“don’t be scared, now! go on!”

y/n looked the niffler in the eyes, and it looked like it was waiting, just like everyone else was. she needed to say something, just anything.

“um...” she muttered, and some of the student’s jaws dropped from just hearing that.

“she can’t talk!” a voice rung out through the trees, and y/n looked over to see pansy parkinson smirking with malfoy. “yeah, she doesn’t know how to speak!” draco added, him and his friends giggling.

other students began to join in on laughing, and yelling about how quiet she was, even some calling her by her infamous nickname... mute.

y/n looked away, and quickly put the niffler back into hagrid’s arms. she stormed over to her things, and collected them quickly.

“where are you going?” neville whispered over to her, trying his best to make her stay. “these people don’t matter, y/n. just stay.”

she looked up at him, and his heart shattered from what he saw. tears filled her eyes, and her lip quivered. she threw her bag over her shoulder, grabbed her textbook, and ran away from the large group of students.

the students laughed at her as she did so, and more vile things about her left the mouths of draco and his friends.

“aye!” hagrid yelled, and the students fell silent. “ten house points takin away from all of ya’s’! we never treat our fellow students like that!”

the students groaned and attempted to protest, but hagrid simply wasn’t having any of it.

“class dismissed! and i’ll be sure’ to let all ye’s heads know bout’ the way yer’ all acted today!”

as students collected their things and left in small groups, chatter of y/n escaped their lips, and not in a very kind way, either.

“ten house points from all of us?! this has got to be some kind of sick joke!” seamus complained, “we didn’t even say anything about the girl!”

neville scoffed and rolled his eyes, “but, you laughed. that’s the issue.”

seamus furrowed his eyebrows, “don’t tell me you’re angry at me because i laughed? if something is funny, i laugh! i’m allowed to laugh, longbottom!”

neville didn’t have time to argue with seamus, he needed to go and find y/n. just to make sure she was alright.

—

tears fell quickly from her face, hitting the book pages as she tried to read. she sniffled, trying to get them to go away.

after her embarrassment, y/n had escaped to the library. where she was sure she would be safe, but was proven wrong when students from that same class found her, and began to harass her, and threaten her due to the fact everyone had lost points for their house.

y/n sat alone, like always. crying to herself, wondering what was wrong with her. why couldn’t she just speak? why couldn’t she be like everyone else and have a normal conversation with others? what was she so weird?

as her thoughts took over her, she didn’t notice neville longbottom approaching the same table they both shared. he frowned when he heard the small cries leave her lips,

“y/n?”

the soft voice made y/n look up, and she quickly wiped her tears away. he pulled out the same chair he had been sitting in for the past two weeks, and sat down slowly.

“are you alright? i’ve been looking for you for the past hour,” he stated, a flash of worry showing in his eyes. “i should’ve known that you’d be here. but, you know me... i forget almost everything.”

as neville made his way to the library, he thought about every way possible to get y/n to speak. and the constant rambling and questions obviously weren’t working, so maybe, instead of forcing to her to speak, maybe he could try to relate to her. make her feel comfortable and safe enough to talk around him.

“you know... malfoy has always given me a hard time, too. him and all of his friends. they’re really mean.” he informed her, still looking into her eyes. “but, one day, i finally stood up for myself. and, they haven’t necessarily... left me alone or anything, but they’re a bit less cruel, you know?”

y/n simply just stared at him blankly, having only a small hint at what he was talking about. “he used to throw toast at me during breakfast. it was immature, but... it still hurt me feelings.”

y/n didn’t know that malfoy treated her the same way he had always treated neville. she felt bad for him, as she knew exactly how it felt to be a victim of malfoy’s torture.

“but, when i stood up to him... merlin, i’ll never forget it. i felt like i could... spit fire or something! it was honestly one of the greatest feelings that i’ve ever had! i felt unstoppable!”

neville was waving his hands, going on this small tangent about when he stood up to malfoy. y/n admired his courage, and the way he talked to excitedly about it.

“all i’m saying is... is that maybe, one day, you should stick up for yourself. i would do it for you... but i don’t think that it would make it any better for you or for me. so... just maybe—“

he was cut off by how quickly she was shaking her head,

“you don’t have to do it today, or tomorrow, or even next week! just, at some point, you know? i promise you’ll feel better if you do it!”

but, she shook her head once more. neville sighed, already feeling defeated.

there was a few moments of silence before neville spoke up once more:

“why don’t you speak, y/n?”

y/n frowned, the question that she hated the most being asked.

“doesn’t anyone ever ask you why? or, you know... try to get to know you at least?”

she shook her head sadly, and her eyes wandered back onto the page of her book,

“well... i really like hanging out with you. and, i want to know all of your interests and stuff. you seem really cool, and... i want to get to know you better.”

y/n thought for a moment, her instincts taking over her. normally when someone said things like this, she would rush out of the room, not even giving them a chance to say further more. but, neville was different. he didn’t seem to have any bad intentions, he just seemed... intrigued.

“why?”

neville thought for a moment that his ears were deceiving him, but when he looked over at y/n once more, he figured out that she was waiting for a response.

it took him a moment to collect his thoughts before he answered, “uh, well... i know how it feels to be the quiet kid. and, most of the time... i’m alone. i just don’t like seeing—others alone, i suppose. it hurts me.”

y/n looked up at him, “but... you have friends.”

neville felt giddy on the inside. finally, he had got her to say more that one single word. even though it wasn’t under the best circumstances, neville was proud of her.

“well, yeah. but... they have friends as well. and, we don’t really share the same interests. in fact, my friends laugh when i talk about herbology. they’re great and all, but... i don’t know. i just wish i had someone to talk to about things like that.”

there was a few more beats of silence, and neville really hoped that he hadn’t said something that made her shut down again.

“um...” she started, “i—i like herbology.”

the small sadness that had taken over neville instantly faded, and he smiled at the girl’s words.

“really?”

she smiled at him, her problems seemingly leaving her body. she nodded her head, “and... care for magical creatures.”

neville could practically feel his heart about to burst from his chest.

“that’s... nice. i’ve never been much into it, but, i would love to know more about it.”

to everyone else in hogwarts, y/n was known as mute. she never spoke, and when she did, it was only a single word. but neville, he saw so much more than that. he saw a girl with a great personality, a beautiful mind.

and, he couldn’t wait to get to know her.

[theusurpersdog]

A Bird in a Cage

Sansa’s arc in A Clash of Kings is all about boxing her in. Not only is she a hostage in King’s Landing, she’s also expected to pretend she’s not; she has to attend Court with a smile on her face, playing the role of Joffrey’s betrothed every day. Showing any honest emotion is punished by verbal and physical beatings. Her entire life becomes a performance she must put on to keep the monsters at bay. Everything about her world is meant to be stifling; from the physical restrictions to the emotional ones, it all makes her retreat deeper and deeper within herself.

But the real magic of this book is the moments where she finds a way to push back or escape her bounds . . . 

Captive

In more ways than one, Sansa is a captive in King’s Landing.

The first kind of abuse she’s subjected to is physical. Beatings are a part of her everyday life. Because Robb was crowned king, or because she was happy Janos Slynt was sent to the Wall, or because Joffrey decided to be especially cruel one day. Sometimes for no reason at all.

She has to take care to dress carefully to hide the bruises:

The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey’s gifts as well.

This should go without saying, but domestic abuse is not rational; nothing Sansa does could stop Joffrey from abusing her – no clever words or tricks she could do to keep him happy. Half the time he has her beaten, it’s because of something Robb did.

Because she could be beaten at any moment, Sansa always keeps one eye on Joffrey, terrified that his mood could turn:

So the king had decided to play the gallant today. Sansa was relieved.

. . .

The king was growing bored. It made Sansa anxious. She lowered her eyes and resolved to keep quiet, no matter what. When Joffrey Baratheon’s mood darkened, any chance word might set off one of his rages.

Not only is she afraid of being hit, she’s genuinely afraid he could kill her:

When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat.

Sansa knows her life balances on an incredibly delicate string. Jaime being Robb’s prisoner gives the Lannisters a reason to keep her alive, but Joffrey had reasons to keep Ned alive, too. If anything were to set him off, he would kill Sansa without hesitation. That’s why Sansa feels safer with Cersei around to watch her son, because she’s the only thing that remains to keep Joffrey in check. And Sansa knows that if Robb were to do anything to Jaime, her life would be over:

Gods be good, don’t let it be the Kingslayer. If Robb had harmed Jaime Lannister, it would mean her life. She thought of Ser Ilyn, and how those terrible pale eyes staring pitilessly out of that gaunt pockmarked face.

The beating she endures after Robb wins the battle at Oxcross is so bad that she can barely walk afterward; and as I already mention above, she has to be careful to wear dresses to hide her bruises.

And not only does she have to endure the abuse, she also has to carry on the farce for the rest of the court. Everyone knows she’s a prisoner, and everyone knows that Joffrey is having the Kingsguard beat her, but she’s not allowed to show it; all of her pain has to be kept hidden, pushed deep down inside herself.

Which leads me to the other kind of abuse Sansa experiences in King’s Landing. Everything about her time there is meant to emotionally destroy her. Joffrey intentionally tries to taunt her with threats to murder her family:

“It’s almost as good as if some wolf killed your traitor brother. Maybe I’ll feed him to wolves after I’ve caught him.

. . .

“I’d sooner have Robb Stark’s head,” Joff said with a sly glance toward Sansa.

. . .

“I’ll deal with your brother after I’m done with my traitor uncle. I’ll gut him with Hearteater, you’ll see.”

He loves to play mind games with her, like when he promised to show Ned mercy and then cut off his head and said that was mercy. The constant way that he twists reality around messes with her head and leaves her understandably paranoid:

What if it was some cruel jape of Joffrey’s, like the day he had taken her up to the battlements to show her Father’s head? Or perhaps it was some subtle snare to prove she was not loyal. If she went to the godswood, would she find Ser Ilyn Payne waiting for her, sitting silent under the heart tree with Ice in his hand, his pale eyes watching to see if she’d come?

The constant cruelty she suffers, and Joffrey and Cersei’s profound betrayal at the end of A Game of Thrones, make it hard for her to trust anyone, even when they show kindness:

He speaks more gently than Joffrey, she thought, but the queen spoke to me gently too. He’s still a Lannister, her brother and Joff’s uncle, and no friend. Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father’s head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.

How is she supposed to trust anyone, when everything around her is false? When everything is a carefully constructed jape at her expense? Especially because she’s surrounded by enemies; anyone making their home in Joffrey’s court is sworn to kill Sansa’s family.

And Cersei intentionally makes her isolation worse, rotating her bedmaids:

Sansa did not know her. The queen had her servants changed every fortnight, to make certain none of them befriended her.

Sansa truly has no one to talk to, not even friendly servants to keep her company. Her loneliness is so profound that she enjoys being watched over by Arys Oakheart because he’s the only person who will actually talk to her.

She realizes that no one in King’s Landing cares if she lives or dies:

She [Cersei] spared Sansa not so much as a glance. She’s forgotten me. Ser Ilyn will kill me and she won’t even think about it.

And before the Battle of the Blackwater started, Tyrion told her this:

“I ought to have sent you off with Tommen now that I think on it.”

Unlike Joffrey and Cersei, Tyrion doesn’t wish Sansa any harm; he orders Joffrey’s men to stop hitting her, tries to comfort her afterward, and doesn’t want her to be married to Joffrey. But she is not one of his priorities. It didn’t even occur to him to try and get her safely out of the city.

This is dehumanizing. Sansa has no friends or even anyone to talk to, and the people around her treat her life as an afterthought.

Sansa also suffers from the emotional fallout of Joffrey’s abuse. She blames herself when he has men hit her:

She must learn to hide her feelings better, so as not to anger Joffrey.

The fear of being hit by Joffrey is nearly all-consuming for Sansa. It affects everything down to the smallest details of her life, like how she dresses and does her hair:

I have to look pretty, Joff likes me to look pretty, he’s always liked me in this gown, this color.

Instead of getting to live as her own person, doing things to make herself happy, Sansa has to live for Joffrey’s satisfaction. Even when she’s being physically beaten, she thinks of him instead of herself:

Laugh, Joffrey, she prayed as the juice ran down her face and the front of her blue silk gown. Laugh and be satisfied.

Everything about her life is a performance for other people. She wears the gowns and jewels Joffrey likes, dressing to hide the bruises his men leave all over, and says the words they tell her to say:

“My father was a traitor,” Sansa said at once. “And my brother and lady mother are traitors as well.” That reflex she had learned quickly. “I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey.”

Sansa repeats that phrase over and over throughout the book, always at once. Almost like a reflex. An actor on stage repeating their lines, rehearsed and performed a thousand times.

The worst part of the act is that everyone knows it’s exactly that: an act. Sansa is required, every day, to declare that her family are traitors who deserve to die, and for no reason at all. The way Joffrey abuses her is an open secret:

“He’s never been able to forget that day on the Trident when you saw her shame him, so he shames you in turn. You’re stronger than you seem, though. I expect you’ll survive a bit of humiliation.”

There is no way anyone could ever believe Sansa actually loves the boy who killed her father and intentionally humiliates her in front of his court. No matter how well Sansa tells the lie, it will always be see-through; especially because everyone knows that she’s a prisoner, being held until Jaime is freed. Sansa has to repeat the lie of believing her family to be traitors to try and please the Lannisters – if she said anything different she would be beaten or killed – but there’s no way they will ever be happy, because even when Sansa says the lies as convincingly as humanly possible, they know they’re lies because there’s no way they could be anything else. Sansa cannot win.

That’s never clearer than during her conversation with Cersei inside Maegar’s Holdfast, while the Battle of the Blackwater rages on:

“I pray for Joffrey,” she insisted nervously.

“Why, because he treats you so sweetly?” The queen took a flagon of sweet plum wine from a passing serving girl and filled Sansa’s cup. “Drink,” she commanded coldly. “Perhaps it will give you the courage to deal with truth for a change.”

If Sansa told Cersei the truth in this moment, she would be severely punished. And Cersei knows that, because she would be the one doing the punishing. Yet she verbally berates Sansa anyway.

The same dynamic plays out between Sansa and the Hound. At the end of A Game of Thrones, he gives her this bit of advice:

“Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants.”

And as one of Joffrey’s Kingsguard, he knows first hand of the abuse Sansa suffers if she says anything that could even be construed as out of line. Yet when Sansa tries to follow the advice he gave her, he throws it back in her face:

“ah, you're still a stupid little bird, aren't you? Singing all the songs they taught you”

Everyone in King’s Landing is always threatening to kill Sansa if she tells them the truth, and then calling her stupid when she repeats back the lies they want to hear. They’re forcefully dehumanizing her, demanding she remove all of her own thoughts and emotions and replace them with hollow lines they’ve given her, and then getting mad when her words are empty.

This plays on one of Sansa’s greatest insecurities about herself, which is her intelligence. Because of her low self-esteem, she already thinks of herself as being less-than. That’s very clear whenever she does an act of kindness – she steadfastly refuses to give herself credit for anything:

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court?

. . .

Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead. I am soft and weak and stupid, just as Joffrey says. I should be killing him, not helping him.

She never thinks to herself You are doing this because you are a good person. She always punishes herself internally, calling herself stupid and childish for believing in good things. Joffrey and Cersei have destroyed her so much that she can only see herself through their eyes, cruel and mocking.

The fear that she’s stupid is one of her greatest anxieties:

“My Jonquil’s a clever girl, isn’t she?”

“Joffrey and his mother say I’m stupid.”

And she doesn’t like to be watched by Ser Preston Greenfield because he treated her like a lackwit child.

Everyone around her is comfortable calling her stupid and emotionally abusing her, and it’s easy for Sansa to start internalizing those messages. Joffrey and Cersei’s betrayal at the end of A Game of Thrones forever changed Sansa; the fear that she could ever be so wrong again, and the fear that she was stupid to believe in them, haunts her. Throughout her time in King’s Landing, her self-worth plummets, and she really starts to believe all the things that Joffrey, Cersei, and everyone is always telling her about herself.

Because she has to endure so much abuse and cruelty every day, it starts to become normal to Sansa. Compared to the way Joffrey treats her, anything would be an improvement; she has a soft spot for Arys Oakheart because he hesitated to hit her once:

Arys Oakheart was courteous, and would talk to her cordially. Once he even objected when Joffrey commanded him to hit her. He did hit her in the end, but not hard as Ser Meryn or Ser Boros might have, and at least he had argued.

At least he had argued is one of the saddest lines in a series of books that has a lot of sad lines. Sansa expects so little of the people around her, and is subjected to so much cruelty, that the mere act of hesitating before hitting a defenseless child is enough to stand out in her memory as an act of kindness.

And Sansa thinks this when Tyrion asks her if she’s flowered yet:

Sansa blushed. It was a rude question, but the shame of being stripped before half the castle made it seem like nothing.

This is a perfect moment to show the small ways in which Joffrey is breaking her down emotionally. Tyrion’s question is embarrassing and impolite, but Sansa doesn’t even care because it is so much less embarrassing than the humiliations Joffrey makes her suffer. Joffrey has set the bar for cruelty so high that Sansa is willing to ignore others mistreating her because it isn’t as bad as Joffrey.

The secret friendship she has with Dontos makes this even worse:

“And if I should seem cruel or mocking or indifferent when men are watching, forgive me, child. I have a role to play, and you must do the same. One misstep and our heads will adorn the walls as did your father’s.”

Dontos is not wrong, but it doesn’t make it any less toxic a message for Sansa to hear: I’m cruel and hit you for your own protection. That’s on display when Joffrey is beating Sansa for Robb’s victory at Oxcross:

“Let me beat her!” Ser Dontos shoved forward, tin armor clattering. He was armed with a “Morningstar” whose head was a melon. My Florian. She could have kissed him, blotchy skin and broken veins and all.

Sansa is happy that Dontos is the one hitting her, because at least it’s better than Meryn Trant and Boros Blount. Dontos volunteering to hit her is an act of kindness for Sansa; which further reinforces the idea that someone hitting her is okay.

All of this works to lower Sansa’s standards and warp her perception of what is and isn’t okay; and in the case of Dontos, it is outright grooming on the part of Littlefinger. He intentionally paid an older man to win Sansa’s trust and get her used to the dynamic of secrecy and pushing boundaries, all so he can swoop in during A Storm of Swords. Sansa’s stuck in an endless cycle of her abuse conditioning her to accept more abuse.

All of the abuse and isolation Sansa suffers also leaves her incredibly depressed throughout A Clash of Kings. When she gets the note telling her to go to the Godswood, she thinks she will kill herself before she’s caught:

If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself.

After the bread riot, Sansa has panic attacks; so much so that she feels suffocated in small rooms:

Sansa could go where she would so long as she did not try to leave the castle, but there was nowhere she wanted to go. She crossed over the dry moat with its cruel iron spikes and made her way up the narrow turnpike stair, but when she reached the door of her bedchamber she could not bear to enter. The very walls of the room made her feel trapped; even with the window opened wide it felt as though there was no air to breathe.

She likes to go up to the roof of the tower so she can see the entire city laid before her; it’s the only place where she doesn’t feel so claustrophobic and trapped.

That passage is also so fantastically written to show just how depressed Sansa is. Sansa could go where she would so long as she did not try to leave the castle, but there was nowhere she wanted to go. She's too depressed to go riding around the courtyard; she doesn’t see the point in going around in circles. We know from A Game of Thrones that Sansa has plenty of hobbies: playing the high harp, needlepoint, reading, and sharing gossip with her best friend. In A Clash of Kings, she’s too isolated to have anyone to talk to, but we never see her doing any of her other hobbies either. Nothing brings Sansa happiness in this book.

Especially because she’s constantly surrounded by reminders of her trauma. The way Sansa copes with her grief is by pushing it out of her mind and pretending like it doesn’t exist:

Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears.

Sansa actively tries to forget about the people who mean the most to her because it hurts too much to think of them.

But she can’t forget about Ned when she’s surrounded by reminders of his death. Joffrey and Cersei intentionally throw it in her face, and she has to walk through the same halls his men died in:

Sansa moved as if in a dream. She thought the Imp’s men would take her back to her bedchamber in Maegor’s Holdfast, but instead they conducted her to the Tower of the Hand. She had not set foot inside that place since the day her father fell from grace, and it made her feel faint to climb those steps again.

The reminder that hurts the most is the presence of Ilyn Payne, a recurring figure in all of Sansa’s nightmares. Just his presence makes Sansa’s skin crawl:

She was climbing the dais when she saw the man standing in the shadows by the back wall. He wore a long hauberk of oiled black mail, and held his sword before him: her father's greatsword, Ice, near as tall as he was. Its point rested on the floor, and his hard bony fingers curled around the crossguard on either side of the grip. Sansa's breath caught in her throat.

. . .

She looked for Ser Ilyn, but the King's Justice was not to be seen. I can feel him, though. He's close

When Sansa’s afraid she’s going to die, it’s always his blade she fears:

I'll not escape him, he'll have my head.

. . .

Ser Ilyn will kill me and she won't even think about it.

. . .

If she went to the godswood, would she find Ser Ilyn Payne waiting for her, sitting silent under the heart tree with Ice in his hand, his pale eyes watching to see if she'd come?

. . .

If Robb had harmed Jaime Lannister, it would mean her life. She thought of Ser Ilyn, and how those terrible pale eyes staring pitilessly out of that gaunt pockmarked face.

Watching Ilyn Payne kill her father is the worst thing that ever happened to Sansa, and she lives in constant fear that the same thing could happen to her.

The only thing that keeps her going is the thought of her family. Sansa is insecure in herself enough to start believing the abuse that Joffrey and Cersei inflict on her; but she loves her family too much to ever believe the lies about them. Even though she’s forced to declare them traitors every single day, her internal monologue is always fighting against it:

Rob will kill you all, she thought, exulting

. . .

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death . . . and for home. For Winterfell.

She even finds a way to make Joffrey’s words work in her favor:

“Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?"

"I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him.

One of the only moments where Sansa is even remotely happy in this book comes when she’s talking to Tommen, because he reminds her of Bran:

Princess Myrcella nodded a shy greeting at the sound of Sansa’s name, but plump little Prince Tommen jumped up eagerly. “Sansa, did you hear? I’m to ride in the tourney today. Mother said I could.” Tommen was all of eight. He reminded her of her own little brother, Bran. They were of an age. Bran was back at Winterfell, a cripple, yet safe.

Sansa would have given anything to be with him. “I fear for the life of your foeman,” she told Tommen solemnly.

That’s a short passage, but it so beautifully captures a small piece of what Sansa is truly like, outside of the abuse and the fearing for her life and the never being able to express her emotions. She loves her family so much and wants nothing more than to be with Bran again. And while Joffrey mocks Tommen for his knightly dreams, Sansa is so nice to him, building up his confidence before he competes. She’s old enough to have grown passed the childishness of Tommen facing the quintain, but because she knows how important it is to Tommen, she gladly plays along with him. We never got to see any scenes in A Game of Thrones of Sansa interacting with Bran and getting to act like a big sister, but this scene does such a good job of showing us that Sansa was a great sister to him.

Sansa also feels a much stronger connection to the Godswood, the ancestral home of her father’s gods:

The air was rich with the smells of earth and leaf. Lady would have liked this place, she thought. There was something wild about a godswood, even here, in the heart of the castle at the heart of the city, you could feel the old gods watching with a thousand unseen eyes.

And even though Lady’s long dead, Sansa still has a strong connection to her wolf. When she believes she’s going to die during the Blackwater, Lady is the first thing she thinks of:

“Lady,” she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead.

The more abuse Sansa suffers and the more pressure is put on her to denounce her family as traitors and give up on ever going home, the more Sansa falls back on her family. That’s the only form of comfort she has in King’s Landing; the memory of Winterfell, and the belief that Robb is coming to save her.

The Lannisters have Sansa held captive physically and emotionally in King’s Landing; she has to suffer through beatings and repeat their words to stay alive. But as long as Sansa has her family - has Winterfell - to hold onto, there is a part of her that the Lannisters can never have. Even if it’s only within the walls of her own mind, Sansa has fought herself a small piece of freedom.

Courtesy is a Lady’s Armor

Trapped within the political machinations of King’s Landing, Sansa starts to learn how to play the game in earnest.

Even before she consciously starts to do it, though, Sansa is already in many ways an adept political actor. There’s a reason that all highborn children are taught from a young age how to conduct themselves; Westeros is a society built on the cornerstone of tradition, and knowing how to perform courtly behavior is important. Because Sansa took all of Septa Mordane’s training seriously, she already knows how to walk the dangerous tightrope of courtly speak:

Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady’s armor is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, “I’m sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord.”

This is the same skill we saw in her second chapter of A Game of Thrones, when she was proud of herself for telling the Hound that no one could withstand Gregor during the tourney – she managed to say something courteous without telling a lie. Just as she did then, Sansa manages to say an apology to Tyrion that’s true.

It also shows just how good Sansa is at keeping a level head, because just moments before she was thinking this:

Tyrion turned to Sansa. "My lady, I am sorry for your losses. Truly, the gods are cruel."

Sansa could not think of a word to say to him. How could he be sorry for her losses? Was he mocking her? It wasn’t the gods who’d been cruel, it was Joffrey.

Faced with the men responsible for killing her father, she manages to think on her feet and fulfill the role of a Lady.

She also learns how to use that same skill to benefit herself. Whereas at first she was just trying to perform the functions of a Lady, she starts to use her courtesy to talk the people around her into helping her in such a way that they don’t even realize it’s happening:

“I would sooner return to my own bed.” A lie came to her suddenly, but it seemed so right that she blurted it out at once. “This tower was where my father’s men were slain Their ghosts would give me terrible dreams, and I would see their blood wherever I looked.”

Tyrion Lannister studied her face. “I am no stranger to nightmares, Sansa. Perhaps you are wiser than I knew. Permit me at least to escort you safely back to your own chambers.”

Part of why Sansa’s so naturally gifted at this kind of political double speak is because she understands people so well; she’s an empathetic and emotional character, and is extremely aware of the emotions of everyone around her. To affectively influence others, you need to understand what they want and be able to give it to them. Because Sansa is so aware of the people around her, she intuitively knows what they want; and all she wants to do is give it to them, because she doesn’t want to be hurt again.

The whole conversation she has with Tyrion in the Tower of the Hand does an excellent job showing how intelligent she is:

“I . . .” Sansa did not know what to say. Is it a trick? Will he punish me if I tell the truth? She stared at the dwarf’s brutal bulging brow, the hard black eye and the shrewd green one, the crooked teeth and wiry beard. “I only want to be loyal.”

“Loyal,” the dwarf mused, “and far from any Lannisters. I can scarce blame you for that. When I was your age, I wanted the same thing.” He smiled. “They tell me you visit the godswood every day. What do you pray for, Sansa?”

I pray for Robb’s victory and Joffrey’s death . . . and for home. For Winterfell. “I pray for an end to the fighting.”

Again, she shows an unparalleled ability to lie without actually lying. And she’s clever enough to tell Tyrion what he wants to hear without saying anything that’s actually false, that way it can’t come back to bite her later. She learned her lesson in A Game of Thrones not to trust someone just because they’re kind, and is careful not to show her cards to Tyrion. But in case he’s being honest in trying to help her, Sansa does not reaffirm her love for Joffrey. That’s why her answer of I only want to be loyal is so smart; whether Tyrion is playing her false or no, Sansa has given him the answer he wants to hear. She’s kept all of her doors open without creating additional risk for herself.

Having to survive Joffrey every day also teaches Sansa how to get what she wants without actually having to say it. When she saves Dontos’ life, she plays to Joffrey’s ego:

Unhappy, Joffrey shifted in his seat and flicked his fingers at Ser Dontos. "Take him away. I'll have him killed on the morrow, the fool."

"He is," Sansa said. "A fool. You're so clever, to see it. He's better fitted to be a fool than a knight, isn't he? You ought to dress him in motley and make him clown for you. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

All Sansa wants is to save Dontos’ life, and in the moment she comes up with a spectacular lie. Of course Joffrey would think it humiliating to make Dontos into a fool, so Sansa convinces him that would be an even greater punishment than death. She manipulates Joffrey into doing what she wants him to, and he doesn’t even know it’s happened.

Learning how to slyly insult Joffrey is one of the few ways Sansa can actually express herself as a prisoner, and she gets incredibly good at it. She starts by passive-aggressively getting one over on him:

“Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?"

"I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him.

But as she gets better at politics she goes even further, actively tempting Joffrey into getting himself killed:

“They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest,” she said recklessly. “Though he’s older than Your Grace, to be sure. A man grown.”

Joffrey’s biggest insecurity is that he can’t rule in his own right; Cersei won’t let him do certain things, and Tyrion is in charge of him as the Hand of the King because he hasn’t come of age yet. While Joffrey’s anger is normally aimed destructively at Sansa, here she figures out a way to make it work for her; using his own emotions against him to do something reckless.

As well as learning the art of political double-speak, Sansa starts to understand the broader political machinations at work. Because she was a diligent student of Catelyn and Septa Mordane, she has almost every sigil in Westeros memorized; at Joffrey’s name-day tourney, she recognizes every competitor by their House. This may seem unimportant at first glance, but it’s actually very important; twice in Arya’s chapters in A Clash of Kings she wishes she knew Houses and Sigils as well as Sansa, because than she would know who she was dealing with.

Since Sansa knows who everyone is, she has head start in understanding where everyone’s loyalties lie. On top of that, she’s also incredibly observant; she’s constantly taking in everything around her, stopping to pay attention to every little detail and interaction between people. Even though Cersei and Joffrey are trying to keep it hidden, Sansa notices that Joffrey’s tourney is held inside the Keep because he would be mobbed if they went out into the city. And she knows the Redwyne twins are hostages just as much as she is:

The Redwyne twins were the queen’s unwilling guests, even as Sansa was. She wondered whose notion it had been for them to ride in Joffrey’s tourney. Not their own, she thought.

That’s not something anyone would have told Sansa. For one, no one is even allowed to talk to her per Cersei’s orders. For two, Cersei doesn’t let anyone acknowledge that she has hostages – in the same way Sansa has to pretend she is a guest of Joffrey’s court, the Redwynes have to pretend they’re willing guests. That means that Sansa, with no help from anyone, has of her own accord put all the pieces together and realized the Redwynes are political pawns just like her. Very impressive for a twelve-year-old.

Sansa’s attention to detail is clear when she meets Shae, and immediately notices something is not right with her:

Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to show her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes.

And when she’s entering Maegar’s Holdfast at the start of the Blackwater, and notices the guards:

The two guards at the door wore the lin-crested helms and crimson cloaks of House Lannister, but Sansa knew they were only dressed-up sellswords. Another sat at the foot of the stair – a real guard would have been standing, not sitting on a step with his halberd across his knees – but he rose when he saw them and opened the door to usher them inside.

Her encyclopedic knowledge of Westerosi Houses and her attention to detail combine to give her a really good head for political machinations. She sees how the Lannisters use empty titles to flatter their lesser servants while saving the best prizes for their family:

Hallyne the Pyromancer and the masters of the Alchemists’ was raised to the style of lord, though Sansa noted that neither lands nor castle accompanied the title, which made the alchemist no more a true lord than Varys was. A more significant lordship by far was granted to Ser Lancel Lannister.

She manages to keep pace with Littlefinger and Tywin’s games:

She did not understand why that should make him so happy; the honors were as empty as the title granted to Hallyne the Pyromancer. Harrenhal was cursed, everyone knew that, and the Lannisters did not even hold it at present. Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. Robb has beaten them every time. He’ll beat Lord Baelish too, if he must.

I cannot emphasize enough that Sansa, following the tiny thread of Littlefinger looks happy to be Lord of Harrenhal, manages to predict the Red Wedding a whole book before it happens. That’s pretty incredible. Right now, Sansa has no power to start pulling meaningful strings of her own, but it’s clear that she fundamentally understands the complexity of geopolitics and would be well-prepared to make decisions of her own when the time comes.

Another way Sansa continues to learn about the realities of ruling is through people around her trying to teach her lessons. Because Sansa’s a hostage and isn’t allowed to say anything she feels, she basically becomes a blank slate for people to project whatever they want onto. Cersei, Dontos, and the Hound all try to “teach” her something as they project all of their own fears, insecurities, and trauma onto her.

Dontos tells her to play the fool:

“Joffrey and his mother say I’m stupid.”

“Let them. You’re safer that way, sweetling. Queen Cersei and the Imp and Lord Varys and their like, they all watch each other keen as hawks, and pay this one and that one to spy out what the others are doing, but no one ever troubles themselves about Lady Tanda’s daughter, do they?”

Of course, Sansa already knows this. All the way back in her second chapter of A Game of Thrones, Sansa thinks to herself that Moon Boy is smarter than he looks and is only pretending to be a fool so he can go wherever he likes; and Dontos confirms her suspicions when he reveals Moon Boy is a spy for Lord Varys.

It’s a consistent pattern that everyone around Sansa is constantly underestimating her; partly because of their own biases, and partly because Sansa is an almost entirely internal character, rarely letting people hear her honest thoughts. People assume she’s as hollow as the words they force her to say, but in reality she’s an introvert and a hostage.

The Hound also feels the need to impart some “lessons” onto Sansa:

Sandor Clegane snorted. “Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They’re all liars here . . . and every one better than you.”

Again, he’s assuming Sansa’s much dumber than she actually is. Sansa already knows that everyone in King’s Landing is a liar, and has sworn to herself never to trust them again.

The most valuable lessons Sansa gets are from Cersei during the Battle of the Blackwater:

“Certain things are expected of a queen. They will be expected of you should you ever wed Joffrey. Best learn.” The queen studied the wives, daughters, and mothers who filled the benches. “Of themselves the hens are nothing, but their cocks are important for one reason or another, and some may survive this battle. So it behooves me to give their women my protection. If my wretched dwarf of a brother should somehow manage to prevail, they will return to their husbands and fathers full of tales about how brave I was, how my courage inspired them and lifted their spirits, how I never doubted our victory even for a moment.”

In this moment, even though she’s not doing a particularly good job actually doing it, Cersei articulates what’s really important about politics: optics. Her true motives for protecting the Ladies don’t matter as long as the Ladies believe that Cersei is doing it for the right reasons. That’s what monarchies are built upon. They’re a fragile house of cards constructed out of people’s belief.

That’s a lesson Sansa learns again when Joffrey sets her aside and takes Margaery as his bride. Sansa knows it’s going to happen, and is coached by Cersei how to react:

I must not smile, she reminded herself. The queen had warned her, no matter what she felt inside, the face she showed the world must look distraught. “I will not have my son humiliated,” Cersei said. “Do you hear me?”

But in front of the court, Joffrey carries on the charade, pretending Garlan’s offer of his sister’s hand is brand new information. Sansa watches from the sidelines and sees how people react; chanting and cheering to the theatre of it all. She gets to learn in real time how important it is to be performing your duties for the people. Other characters – most notably Jon Snow and Daenerys – can never quite figure that part of ruling out, and it has grave consequences.

I don’t mean performing in the negative sense. Of course, it can be used like that, like when the Tyrell’s intentionally starve King’s Landing so they can swoop in and make a big show of providing food. But it can also be used for good; it is an absolutely necessary aspect of ruling to let your people know what you’re doing for them. Jon in particular gets in trouble at the Wall because he doesn’t explain why he does things; he just does them and hopes people will trust him. Part of the courtly aspect of ruling is doing the work of showing your people how you’re helping them. That way you build trust with them, and they know you care for them. That’s what Sansa’s learning how to do.

Sansa’s also very good at the literal courtly aspect of politics; the time actually spent in court, sitting for hours and hours as the tedious day-to-day of ruling takes place. After the Battle of the Blackwater is over, Sansa has to sit in court for an entire day as soldiers are given their reward. She manages to stay focused the whole time, giving incredibly detailed accounts of each prize that’s awarded and each act of valor that caused it. She handles herself better than the grown men in the hall:

By the time all the new knights had been given their sers the hall was growing restive, and none more so than Joffrey. Some of those in the gallery had begun to slip quietly away, but the notables on the floor were trapped, unable to depart without the king’s leave.

Actual adults can’t even tolerate it, but Sansa manages just fine. This talent of hers is taken for granted by readers, but really stands out when you compare it to other characters. Sansa has the benefit of being raised to be a Lady, unlike a character like Daenerys who never had to sit through the training. Dany can’t make it through one day holding court in Meereen, and calls a lid early because she’s so bored – then stops holding court all together. Actually being a Queen is horribly bureaucratic, and that’s a skill that takes some practice to be able to perform.

Sansa’s ability to hold her own as a leader also really shines during the Battle of the Blackwater, when all hope seems lost and Cersei abandons the women in Maegar’s Holdfast:

“Oh, gods,” an old woman wailed. “We’re lost, the battle’s lost, she’s running.” Several children were crying. They can smell the fear. Sansa found herself alone on the dais. Should she stay here, or run after the queen and plead for her life?

She never knew why she got to her feet, but she did. “Don’t be afraid,” she told them loudly. “The queen has raised the drawbridge. This is the safest place in the city. There’s thick walls, the moat, the spikes . . .”

“What’s happened?” demanded a woman she knew slightly, the wife of a lesser lordling. “What did Osney tell her? Is the king hurt, has the city fallen?”

“Tell us,” someone else shouted. One woman asked about her father, another her son.

Sansa raised her hands for quiet. “Joffrey’s come back to the castle. He’s not hurt. They’re still fighting, that’s all I know, they’re fighting bravely. The queen will be back soon.” The last was a lie, but she had to soothe them. She noticed the fools standing under the galley. “Moon Boy, make us laugh.”

Sansa has no reason to do this. Cersei has given Ser Ilyn orders to kill her if the castle falls, and all the women in the holdfast are older than she is. She’s the last person who should be capable of standing up to take charge, considering her age and her impending death by execution.

She knows she’s faced with a choice: try and save her own life, or stay and comfort the women in the holdfast. And she decides to stay.

True Knights

This book sees Sansa’s worldview start to deepen. She’s only a child when the series starts, and like most kids has a very simple understanding of the world; there’s good and bad people, and good and bad things that happen. Songs were the way Sansa gave that worldview structure. They taught her that the good things happened to the good people, and the bad things happened to the bad people. Westeros is fair, and only the good people could be put in charge to do good things. Kings, queens, and knights were all avatars of the inherent goodness of the world; people put in place specifically to protect others.

This worldview became unsustainable for Sansa after Ned’s death. Every single rule the songs taught her was violated by her father’s execution. In her last chapter of A Game of Thrones, we see Sansa turn to nihilism as a result; her father is dead, her prince is a monster, and the knights sworn to protect her are the ones beating her. She doesn’t believe in anything anymore, so much so that she just wants to die.

In A Clash of Kings, Sansa starts to grapple with the overwhelming cognitive dissonance. Ned’s death and Joffrey’s cruelty taught her how evil people can be; but she also knows how good they can be, because she grew up in Winterfell. For all of their shortcomings, Ned and Catelyn were loving parents who tried their best to do good, and raised their kids the same.

Sansa still believes in goodness, but sees that everyone around her fails to live up to it:

Knights are sworn to defend the weak, protect women, and fight for the right, but none of them did a thing. Only Ser Dontos had tried to help, and he was no longer a knight, no more than the Imp was, nor the Hound . . . the Hound hated knights . . . I hate them too, Sansa thought. They are no true knights, not one of them.

Notice how she thinks They are no true knights. Sansa is surrounded by unimaginable cruelty, but she holds on to an undying sense of optimism. She knows that real knights don’t fight for the right, but that doesn’t stop her from continuing to believe in those ideals. Unlike in A Game of Thrones, when her belief in good was attached to specific people like Joffrey and Cersei, Sansa’s new worldview isn’t dependent on people to live up to. She believes in doing the right thing no matter what, even if the people around her let her down.

Sansa’s conception of beauty is the same way; in the first book, she assumed that beautiful people must also be good. But in A Clash of Kings, she reverses that order; people become either beautiful or ugly to her based on how good or bad they are. We view Joffrey through many POVs, and it is clear that by any standard that he is objectively attractive; yet Sansa now finds him ugly:

His plump pink lips always made him look pouty. Sansa had liked that once, but now it made her sick.

And she thinks this of the Hound:

The scars are not the worst part, not even the way his mouth twitches. It’s his eyes. She had never seen eyes so full of anger.

It’s not his physical appearance that scares her, it’s the anger in his eyes. That’s the part of him that’s ugly to her.

This evolution in Sansa’s understanding is never clearer than in her interactions with Dontos. The parts of his appearance that Sansa finds unattractive are his blotchy skin and broken veins, which are both symptoms of his constant drinking. It’s his drinking that bothers her:

“I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?”

. . .

This is madness, to trust myself to this drunkard

But Sansa manages to look beyond that as soon as Dontos invokes Florian the Fool. As much as Sansa understands that the songs aren’t true, the idea still appeal to her. When Dontos says he wants to make amends and become a true knight, in spirit if not name, Sansa treats him as if he actually were a knight:

“Rise, ser.”

. . .

Sansa took a step . . . then spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. “My Florian,” she whispered. “The gods heard my prayer.”

Sansa’s growing understanding of the world around her also changes the way she thinks of class. To some extent in A Song of Ice and Fire, every single character is classist because they’re all rich people in an extremely hierarchical society. The entire structure of kings, lord paramounts, lords, knights, and peasants requires you to be classist; if you believe everyone in Westeros is equal, the entire structure of the society crumbles. While some of the POV characters like Jon and Davos make great strides in understanding how bankrupt the Westerosi class structure is, they’re still generally classist; it’s almost impossible not to be when you grow up in the culture they did. Davos grew up poor, but the indoctrination of classism has given him an almost religious fervor to follow Stannis as the “true” king.

Sansa especially had a very rigid understanding of class in A Game of Thrones; Arya making friends with the butcher’s boy was anathema to her. But the more that Sansa sees the people in power as the monsters they really are, the more sympathy she has for the people below her. In the sept praying before the Battle of the Blackwater, she holds hands with a washerwoman:

The old woman’s hand was bony and hard with callus, the boy’s small and soft, but it was good to have someone to hold on to

The more Cersei and Joffrey try to isolate Sansa, the more they try to snuff out any feeling of goodness or loyalty she had, the more Sansa reaches out to connect with people. Everything bad that happens to her makes her feel more connected to the people of King’s Landing. She’s too young and privileged (class-wise) to have a fully functioning understanding of the true evils of hierarchy, but she fundamentally understands something most of the aristocracy do not: that the common people are people and should be treated with respect.

She knows the common people will suffer the most if Stannis breaches the city walls, and prays for theme:

She sang along with grizzled old serving men and anxious young wives, with serving girls and soldiers, cooks and falconers, knights and knaves, squires and spit boys and nursing mothers. She sang with those inside the castle walls and those without, sang with all the city. She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike

Sansa gladly positions herself alongside the working people, not offended to be among them the way the Lannisters certainly are.

Sansa’s deepening worldview also gives her an incredibly complex relationship to the songs and stories she used to love. As I’ve already mentioned, she doesn’t disown them entirely; the high ideals of the songs are still very important to Sansa. The concept of a true knight, who would actually defend the defenseless, is the cornerstone of Sansa’s belief system, and she doesn’t need that person to actually be a knight – as long as they fulfill the moral obligation of being good. (Little does she know that very person is later tasked to find her.)

But now she knows that the stories lie. She understands their role as propaganda; when Arys Oakheart tries to say the peasants believe the comet heralds Joffrey’s reign, she doesn’t believe him:

“Glory to your betrothed,” Ser Arys answered at once. “See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace’s name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey’s Comet.”

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure.

And she can’t even finish a sentence defending knights without realizing it isn’t true:

“Do you have any notion what happens when a city is sacked, Sansa? No, you wouldn’t, would you? All you know of life you learned from singers, and there’s such a dearth of good sacking songs.”

“True knights would never harm women and children.” The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.

The words ring hollow in her ears because Sansa does know what happens when a city is sacked; earlier in a previous chapter, she thinks this:

The whole city was afraid. Sansa could see it from the castle walls. The smallfolk were hiding themselves behind closed shutters and barred doors as if that would keep them safe. The last time King’s Landing had fallen, the Lannisters looted and raped as they pleased and put hundreds to the sword, even though the city had opened its gates. This time the Imp meant to fight, and a city that fought could expect no mercy at all.

Cersei underestimates Sansa, assuming everything she knows is from a song, but here we see that Sansa knows that the songs don’t tell the whole story. Unlike in A Game of Thrones, she no longer holds them in complete reverence. The Sept used to represent everything beautiful about the songs to her:

Sansa had favored her mother’s gods over her father’s. She loved the statues, the pictures in leaded glass, the fragrance of burning incense, the septons with their robes and crystals, the magical play of the rainbows over altars inlaid with mother-of-pearl and onyx and lapis lazuli.

It was the song’s come to life. But after Ned’s death, she hates it:

When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she’d thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. “I want it burned.”

She literally wants to set fire to the things that used to represent the songs.

But songs and stories are the foundation of Sansa’s world; even though she doesn’t believe in them the way she used to, they still shape her perception. She doesn’t want to let them go:

There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can’t be lies.

She still uses the template of songs and stories to interact with the world, but now with the understanding that the world is so much more complicated. Whereas before, the songs represented a sanitized version of war, Sansa begins to understand it in its entirety:

Away off, she could hear the sounds of battle. The singing almost drowned them out, but the sounds were there if you had the ears to hear: the deep moan of warhorns, the creak and thud of catapults flinging stones, the splashes and splinterings, the crackle of burning pitch and thrum of scorpions loosing their yard-long iron-headed shafts . . . and beneath it all, the cries of dying men.

It was another sort of song, a terrible song.

Thinking about something through the lens of a song no longer represents a childish fantasy for Sansa. Her conception of them is no longer permanent; her view of the songs has changed to fit with her new reality, but it’s still a comforting way for her to make sense of the world around her.

She even incorporates her love of the songs into her political manipulations:

"You're lying," Joffrey said. "I ought to drown you with him, if you care for him so much."

"I don't care for him, Your Grace." The words tumbled out desperately. "Drown him or have his head off, only . . . kill him on the morrow, if you like, but please . . . not today, not on your name day. I couldn't bear for you to have ill luck . . . terrible luck, even for kings, the singers all say so . . ."

Her use of the songs nearly saves her life here. Joffrey doesn’t know enough to be sure that she’s lying, so once the Hound corroborates her story, he has to believe it’s true.

Sansa’s attachment to the stories is integral to her character, and GRRM does a tremendous job of making it important to the arc she starts in this book, which is her continued journey from pawn to player in the Game of Thrones. Sansa’s perspective as a political actor is entirely unique from anyone else for many reasons, and one of those is her connection to the ideal version of Westeros that lives in the songs. Even as Sansa realizes the songs are lies and that the world is so much darker than she thought, she never gives up on the hope that it could be good. Her unwavering optimism for the world, in the face of so much trauma, means that she will never stop trying to make the world better.

Flowering

Throughout her time in King’s Landing, Sansa’s experiences with sexuality are inextricably linked to violence. The way Joffrey physically abuses her comes with a nasty undercurrent of sexual violence. The total control he exerts over her means she has to let him do what he wants:

The king settled back in his seat and took Sansa's hand. His touch filled her with revulsion now, but she knew better than to show it. She made herself sit very still.

The subtext of that scene is drawn to the forefront when Joffrey has Sansa beaten after Robb’s victory at Oxcross:

“Leave her face,” Joffrey commanded. “I like her pretty.”

. . .

“Boros, make her naked.”

Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa’s bodice and gave a hard yank. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel.

This is one of Sansa’s first experiences with sexuality, and it is nonconsensual and done specifically to humiliate her.

The relationship between sex and violence is never clearer than at the start of the Blackwater:

"Bless my steel with a kiss." He extended the blade down to her. "Go on, kiss it."

He had never sounded more like a stupid little boy. Sansa touched her lips to the metal, thinking that she would kiss any number of swords sooner than Joffrey

Joffrey is asking Sansa to kiss his sword; the metaphor here is not exactly subtle. To Joffrey, sex and violence are one in the same; having power over someone, hurting someone, turns him on as much as physical attraction. And as his betrothed, Sansa is on the receiving end of his sexually charged violence.

Unlike Joffrey, Sansa’s not turned on by violence, seeing it and sexuality as two separates things. And she would rather suffer through the violence, thinking to herself she would rather kiss the sword than kiss Joffrey. Her experiences with being found attractive to someone have all been so traumatic that actual violence scares her less.

Arguably the most traumatic experience she has is during the bread riot:

Sansa dug her nails into her hand. She could feel the fear in her tummy, twisting and pinching, worse every day. Nightmares of the day Princess Myrcella had sailed still troubled her sleep; dark suffocating dreams that woke her in the black of night, struggling for breath. She could hear the people screaming at her, screaming without words, like animals. They had hemmed her in and thrown filth at her and tried to pull her off her horse, and would have done worse if the Hound had not cut his way to her side. They had torn the High Septon to pieces and smashed in Ser Aron's head with a rock. Try not to be afraid! he said.

In the nightmares she has of that day, she dreams of being murdered; a knife cutting through her stomach until she’s left in bloody ribbons. It’s not hard to see the violent sexual imagery in that description. Sansa knows what those men planned on doing to her, and the memory haunts her. It’s no coincidence that she wakes from those nightmares to her first period:

“No, please,” Sansa whimpered, “please, no.” She didn’t want this happening to her, not now, not here, not now, not now, not now, not now.

The way GRRM writes her reaction is so visceral. As tears streams down her cheeks, she tries to wash herself, cuts apart her sheets, burns them, and tries to drag her entire bed into the flames as well. And the whole time she does this, she keeps thinking They’ll know or What will I tell them? or I have to burn them. She’s so completely and utterly terrified that anyone could ever know, she’s hardly even thinking. It’s just sheer, overwhelming panic.

This line in particular stands out:

The bedclothes were burnt, but by the time they carried her off her thighs were bloody again. It was as if her own body had betrayed her to Joffrey, unfurling a banner of Lannister crimson for all the world to see.

Down to jewelry she wears and the way she styles her hair, Sansa’s body belongs to Joffrey. Her job in King’s Landing is to look pretty for him in the hopes that it will save her from his wrath. Her body exists solely to please him. She’s literally stripped of her own agency and control.

Flowering is the last straw for Sansa because it means she can be tied forever to Joffrey through marriage, and he’ll be free to rape her and force her to have his children. And there’s nothing Sansa can do to stop it. Her own body has betrayed her by merely existing.

Sansa’s period is again equated to physical violence during the Battle of the Blackwater:

“You look pale, Sansa,” Cersei observed. “Is your red flower still blooming?”

“Yes.”

“How apt. The men will bleed out there, and you in here.”

Then a second time, Cersei compares sex to violence:

“You little fool. Tears are not a woman’s only weapon. You’ve got another one between your legs, and you’d best learn to use it.”

Through Cersei’s eyes, we get the clearest summary of the point GRRM is trying to make. Existing as a woman in Westeros is inherently oppressive to the point of smothering the life out of her. Where the men are given swords, women are given marriage and childbirth; but the latter is no less violent than the former. In Cersei’s words:

“We were so much alike, I could never understand why they treated us so differently. Jaime learned to fight with sword and lance and mace, while I was taught to smile and sing and please. He was heir to Casterly Rock, while I was to be sold to some stranger like a horse, to be ridden whenever my new owner liked, beaten whenever he liked, and cast aside in time for a younger filly. Jaime’s lot was to be glory and power, while mine was birth and moonblood.”

“But you were queen of all the Seven Kingdoms,” Sansa said.

“When it comes to swords, a queen is only a woman after all.”

In many ways, Sansa’s arc in A Clash of Kings is centered around this idea; the violence of femininity in Westeros. Being a child isn’t enough to spare Sansa the horrors. The whole reason she’s trapped in King’s Landing to begin with is because of her body; the Lannisters want to use her like property – a broodmare to sire them sons to inherit Winterfell.

It’s no surprise the climax of Sansa’s chapters in A Clash of Kings pushes this concept to its furthest bounds . . .

Ser Dontos and The Hound

Throughout Sansa’s chapters in King’s Landing, GRRM is deconstructing the trope of the Princess in the Tower. Sansa more than any other character is aware that her life takes place within a story, and she prays to the gods to send her a hero to save from the Red Keep. GRRM had already subverted the idea of a charming Prince with Joffrey in the first book, so A Clash of Kings subverts the trope of a knight coming to save her. That’s why her two protectors in King’s Landing are Dontos and Sandor Clegane – two men who aren’t quite knights.

For most of the book, the narrative treats Dontos and Sandor as foils. The story of why either one is not a knight puts them on two opposite ends of a spectrum. Dontos has his knighthood taken away from him because he’s too soft. He would rather drink and let people laugh at him than fight with a sword, which is why Joffrey makes him a fool. On the other hand, the Hound likes killing too much to be a knight:

“Let them have their lands and their gods and their gold. Let them have their sers.” Sandor Clegane spat at her feet to show what he thought of that. “So long as I have this,” he said, lifting the sword from her throat, “there’s no man on earth I need fear.”

This dichotomy between them is made clearer in the way Sansa has to escape their advances. Around Dontos, she’s dodging kisses:

"Give your Florian a little kiss now. A kiss for luck." He swayed toward her.

Sansa dodged the wet groping lips, kissed him lightly on an unshaven cheek, and bid him good night. It took all her strength not to weep.

But it’s a steel kiss she has to dodge from the Hound:

He laid the edge of his longsword against her neck, just under her ear. Sansa could feel the sharpness of the steel.

The idea of Dontos and Sandor as opposites is driven home further by their different approaches to Sansa’s love of stories; Dontos uses it to win Sansa’s trust:

“I think I may find it in me to be a knight again, sweet lady. And all because of you . . . your grace, your courage. You saved me, not only from Joffrey, but from myself." His voice dropped. "The singers say there was another fool once who was the greatest knight of all . . ."

"Florian," Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her.

"Sweet lady, I would be your Florian," Dontos said humbly, falling to his knees before her.

The Hound uses it to berate and belittle her:

“There are no true knights, no more than there are gods. If you can’t protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can. Sharp steel and strong arms rule this world, don’t ever believe any different.”

Sansa backed away from him. “You’re awful.”

“I’m honest. It’s the world that’s awful. Now fly away, little bird, I’m sick of you peeping at me.”

But underneath the superficial differences, Dontos and the Hound have the exact same relationship to Sansa. When Joffrey is having her beat after Robb’s victory at Oxcross, both make efforts to help her – Dontos volunteering to hit her with a melon instead of a sword, and the Hound telling Joffrey “enough” – but stop short of doing anything that would put themselves in danger. They both make advances on Sansa against her will – Dontos with kisses and the Hound with knives, but the overt sexual nature of both cannot be denied. They both position themselves to Sansa as a sort of mentor figure, telling her how to act and what to believe, with the implicit (and often explicit) message that she’s not smart enough to think for herself and it would really be in her best interest if she just trusted them instead. Both men position themselves as Sansa’s “protector”, but they never protect her from much of anything; in the few moments they’re actually given the opportunity, like during the Battle of the Blackwater, they both panic and leave her to fend for herself.

What really connects the two men is how they use Sansa. To them, she’s the paragon of youth and innocence; the way she believes in the stories reminds them both of what they used to be like before the world beat them down. Sandor was a boy who played with toy knights before Gregor burned his face, and Dontos was saved as a child by the knight of knights Barristan Selmy.  While they’ve both grown jaded, Sansa brings out the parts of them that still believe in the stories. That’s clear from the way Dontos reacts to the Lannisters winning the Battle of the Blackwater:

“Oh! the banners, darling Sansa! Oh! to be a knight!”

And even though the Hound claims to hate the stories, it’s a song he wants from Sansa:

“Go on. Sing to me. Some song about knights and fair maids.”

Sansa as the princess in a tower appeals to the fantasy of both men to be her hero.

But this is a subversion of that trope, not a straight retelling. Particularly in regards to Sandor, GRRM really deconstructs the destructive nature of this male fantasy. Before Sandor asks Sansa to sing him a song, he comments on her body:

“You look almost a woman . . . face, teats, and you’re taller too, almost . . .”

Sandor wanting to play the knight with Sansa is always tied to his sexual attraction to her; in every single instance, GRRM always ties them together. There is never one without the other. It should go without saying that this is not good; Sansa is barely twelve, and hasn’t even had her first period when Sandor’s sexual advances start. She is a child. In Maegar’s Holdfast, she’s shocked that men would view her sexually:

“Enough drink will make blind washerwomen and reeking pig girls seem as comely as you, sweetling.”

“Me?”

“Try not to sound so like a mouse, Sansa. You’re a woman now, remember?”

This passage also very clearly draws the connection between Sandor’s relationship to Sansa and violence. Cersei explains to Sansa the way battle makes men into monsters around women, and then the next chapter Sandor appears in Sansa’s bedroom with a knife. This is not meant to be a romantic scene, or else GRRM would not have framed it with threats of rape and violence.

This is further re-enforced by the song Sansa sings to Sandor. When he holds the knife to her neck, he demands she sing the song of Florian and Jonquil:

He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. “I’ll have that song, Florian and Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.”

But Sansa can’t remember the words, and instead sings the Mother’s Mercy hymn:

Gentle Mother, font of mercy, save our sons from war, we pray, stay the swords and stay the arrows, let them know a better day.

Gentle Mother, strength of women, help our daughters through this fray, sooth the wrath and tame the fury, teach us all a kinder way.

It is incredibly symbolic that the Hound demands Sansa sing him a song of romance, but she physically can’t; the only song she can remember the words to is one of forgiveness.

So much of Sansa’s narrative in A Clash of Kings is people demanding things that she can’t give them. Joffrey wants her loyalty, Cersei wants her words, Tyrion wants her trust, and Dontos and Sandor want her love. Everyone is pulling her in different directions, and her entire personality starts to crumble under the pressure; there’s no way she can give all of these people everything they want. Something has to give.

And when Sansa can no longer play her role, when the fear of dying is too visceral for her to wear her courtesy like an armor, the one thing Sansa can still give Sandor is her mercy. . .

Radical Empathy

The running thread that connects all of the themes in Sansa’s chapters is her being trapped. Physically through Joffrey’s abuse, emotionally through Joffrey, Cersei, Dontos, and Sandor, and even by herself mentally as she begins to internalize the abuse. Everything about the Red Keep is meant to turn Sansa cruel and self-interested, just like everybody else; even if they aren’t intentionally cruel like Joffrey, they’re okay with Sansa being hurt because that’s just how life is, like Cersei. Or Dontos and the Hound, who don’t intend to hurt Sansa but do because they’re too caught up in their own narrative to acknowledge her humanity. Even Arys Oakheart, who really doesn’t want to hurt her, but is too afraid to say no and defy the class structure of Westeros.

That makes Sansa’s defiance through empathy stand out in such radical contrast. The kindness Sansa shows everyone, even those who hurt her, is how GRRM brings the songs to life. Sansa doesn’t love those stories because she’s silly and naïve; she loves them because they justify her belief in the inherent goodness of being kind.

Empathy and kindness are Sansa’s defining character traits, and that’s why her arc in A Clash of Kings opens with her saving Dontos’ life:

Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can’t.”

Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say?”

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him no in front of half the court? She hadn’t meant to say anything, only . . . Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm.

Even though just moments earlier she had noted Joffrey’s mood was turning dark:

The king was growing bored. It made Sansa anxious. She lowered her eyes and resolved to keep quiet, no matter what. When Joffrey Baratheon’s mood darkened, any chance word might set off one of his rages.

The way Sansa stands up for Dontos is particularly notable because he had the chance to do the same for her in A Game of Thrones, but chose not to:

Sickly Lord Gyles covered his face at her approach and feigned a fit of coughing, and when funny drunken Ser Dontos started to hail her, Ser Balon Swann whispered in his ear and he turned away.

- Sansa V

Dontos wouldn’t even risk treating Sansa with basic courtesy, yet she risked her live to save his.

And that’s not the only time Sansa stands up to Joffrey to save someone:

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag.

- Tyrion IX

The only other character we ever see move to actually stand up to Joffrey is Tyrion, who is also the only person in court who doesn’t have to be afraid of Joffrey’s retaliation. Everyone else sits by day after day and watches as Joffrey abuses Sansa and says nothing; or worse, they actively participate. But whenever Sansa sees Joffrey hurting someone, she risks herself to make him stop.

Sansa also uses her kindness to give herself courage:

Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. “You should go with her,” she told the king. “Your brother might be hurt.”

Joffrey shrugged. “What if he is?”

“You should help him up and tell him how well he rode.” Sansa could not seem to stop herself.

She’s too afraid to speak back at Joffrey when he’s abusing her, but as soon as she sees him mistreat Tommen, she finds the courage to stand up for others.

Kindness is almost an involuntary reflex for Sansa:

Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead. I am soft and weak and stupid, just as Joffrey says. I should be killing him, not helping him.

Lancel Lannister, who stood by and egged the crowd on as Sansa was stripped and beaten after the Battle at Oxcross. She has every reason not to help him; she knows if she stays in that room, with the battle all but lost, Ser Ilyn is going to kill her solely because of the Lannisters’ spite. She has no reason to stay and help Lancel. But she can’t stop herself.

The moment where Sansa’s kindness stands out the most, though, is when the Hound comes to her room during Blackwater:

Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. “Little bird,” he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps.

I think reading this passage out of context is what allows certain fans to paint this scene in a romantic light. The softness of Sansa reaching out to touch Sandor is an indelible moment. But it does the moment a disservice to read it that way. This scene is so well written because of what comes before it:

“I could keep you safe,” he rasped. “They’re all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them.” He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. “Still can’t bear to look, can you?” he heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. “I’ll have that song, Florian and Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was poised at her throat. “Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life.”

Afraid for her life, Sansa closes her eyes. But Sandor is too bitter, jaded, and wrapped up in his own self to realize that’s why she closes her eyes; he thinks it’s because she still can’t look at the burned ruin of his face. He came to her room with kindness the furthest thing from his mind; the flames dancing on the Blackwater Rush made him scared like a wild animal, and he’s come here to get something from Sansa – whether she wants to give it or no.

(And while certain people are interested in carrying a lot of water to redeem this character, GRRM has really left no ambiguity in Sandor’s intentions. The passage He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed, taken in tandem with his confession to Arya, I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf, make it very clear that Sandor intended to rape Sansa. That is not up for debate.)

Sansa singing the Mother’s Mercy hymn is the last thing Sandor expected. The idea that in this moment, as Sandor becomes all of the worst things he’s ever believed about himself, about to do one of the most monstrous acts a person can do – that in that moment, Sansa could still show him mercy, is enough to stop him. He can no longer pretend that all the songs are lies and that everyone is only pretending to be good, because in this moment Sansa is still somehow capable of showing him kindness. 

Sansa’s ability to have empathy for seemingly irredeemable characters is not limited to Sandor (though certain shippers would like to pretend that’s some unique characteristic of their relationship, it most certainly is not). The dynamic between Sansa and Cersei is so rich because of Sansa’s inability to hate her, even though Cersei is responsible for pretty much every bad thing in Sansa’s life.

The Sansa and Cersei dynamic is one of the narrative’s most dynamic and complex, as Cersei represents a dark mirror of Sansa. Both were in love with the idea of becoming Queen as children, but arrived in King’s Landing to find their Prince is not who they thought he would be – Cersei both literally and figuratively, as she realizes she’s not to marry Rhaegar Targaryen but instead Robert Baratheon. They’re both subjected to emotional and physical abuse by the King for things that aren’t their fault – Robert hates Cersei because she isn’t Lyanna, and Joffrey hates Sansa because of his fight with Arya on the Trident.

But Cersei’s Lannister upbringing and life have made her cruel in all the ways Sansa is kind. She can see the parallels between herself and Sansa, but instead of reacting with empathy, she uses it to justify her cruelty:

“You’re stronger than you seem, though. I expect you’ll survive a bit of humiliation. I did.”

Being afraid of the men in her life has taught Cersei that’s the correct way to wield power:

“Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you’ll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.”

But Sansa reacts the opposite way:

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

This line has become the definitive statement of Sansa’s character because it so wholly embodies her ethos. Cruelty is not in her nature, and her instinct is always to show kindness. It also ties a direct connection to her own personal experiences shaping how she wants to be as Queen:

“Fear is better than love, Mother says.” Joffrey pointed at Sansa. “She fears me.”

Sansa knows what it feels like to be afraid, and she never wants anyone else to ever feel like that. Where the cruelty Cersei suffered taught her it was normal and good to rule that way, Sansa learns what it feels like to be at someone else’s mercy. If she ever has control over someone, which she will in books to come, she’s learned to always be kind because she knows what it feels like when someone isn’t.

All of her chapters in A Clash of Kings are full of moments that show how much Sansa values kindness. While I’ve already highlighted the life or death examples, she also shines in the small moments, like when she encourages Tommen before he faces the quintain at Joffrey’s name day tourney. And she comforts him when Myrcella leaves for Dorne:

Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry."

"Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound."

- Tyrion IX

She tries to comfort Lollys Stokeworth across the bridge to Maegar’s Holdfast:

She greeted them courteously. “May I be of help?”

Lady Tanda flushed with shame. “No, my lady, but we thank you kindly. You must forgive my daughter, she has not been well.”

“I don’t want to.” Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to shove her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes. “Please, please, I don’t want to.”

Sansa spoke to her gently. “We’ll all be thrice protected inside, and there’s to be food and drink and song as well.”

Her prayer in the Sept before the battle starts shows just how much she cares for everyone:

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin, for all the brave knights and soldiers who would die today, and for the children and the wives who would mourn them, and finally, toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him.

There’s only one person in the whole of Westeros Sansa won’t extend her empathy to:

But when the septon climbed on high and called upon the gods to protect and defend their true and noble king, Sansa got to her feet. The aisles were jammed with people. She had to shoulder through while the septon called upon the Smith to lend strength to Joffrey’s sword and shield, the Warrior to give him courage, the Father to defend him in his need. Let his sword break and his shield shatter, Sansa thought coldly as she shoved out through the doors, let his courage fail him and every man desert him.

This line feels especially important. A lesson that’s drilled into Sansa time and time again by Cersei and Sandor is that her kindness makes her weak. It was used against her in A Game of Thrones, where her trust in Cersei and Joffrey left her completely vulnerable to Ned’s death. But this passage shows that it is not weakness that makes Sansa kind - it’s strength. For a character as kind as she is, and subjected to so much abuse, it would be easy to see her narrative as someone repeatedly letting herself be run over. By including this line, showing that Sansa’s empathy is a choice she makes – and making it clear that she chooses not to have it for Joffrey – it shows that Sansa still has control over herself, and will set boundaries. 

Instead of using her experiences in a negative way like Cersei, Sansa learns to carefully apply the lessons of her life; she won’t let abuse stop her from being kind, but she knows when to stop herself from trusting someone again.

Because Sansa’s kindness and optimism are the most important aspects of her character, her arc in A Clash of Kings ends there. Joffrey setting her aside in favor of Margaery is an emotional rollercoaster for Sansa:

Dontos waited in the leafy moonlight. “Why so sadface?” Sansa asked him gaily. “You were there, you heard. Joff put me aside, he’s done with me, he’s . . .”

He took her hand. “Oh, Jonquil, my poor Jonquil, you do not understand. Done with you? They’ve scarcely begun.”

Her heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“The queen will never let you go, never. You are too valuable a hostage. And Joffrey . . . sweetling, he is still king. If he wants you in his bed, he will have you, only now it will be bastards he plants in your womb instead of trueborn sons.”

Throughout A Song of Ice and Fire, the narrative is constantly testing Sansa’s commitment to her ideals. Everything she knows is constantly turned on its head, going from a dream to a nightmare. The momentary joy she feels knowing she doesn’t have to marry Joffrey is only allowed for a second, until it collides with Dontos’ harsh reality.

But instead of ending there, the narrative takes a page out of Sansa’s book and leaves on a vision of hope for the future:

It was a hair net of fine spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. “What stones are these?”

“Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight.”

“It’s very lovely,” Sansa said, thinking, It is a ship I need, not a net for my hair.

“Lovelier than you know, sweet child. It’s magic, you see. It’s justice you hold. It’s vengeance for your father.” Dontos leaned close and kissed her again. “It’s home.”

[otomotoelzhinee]

SAILOR MAX: Chapter 1

Before we start, I just wanna thank everyone for being so, so patient with me and this project!! I’ve worked hard on this AU, and I can only hope it was worth the wait. I also wanna thank the people who helped me with the project in general with stuff like worldbuilding, character relationships etc; and with the chapter itself by offering criticism to my writing (cause as we know, it’s not my forte). You know who you are and I just want you to know most of this stuff wouldn’t have been possible without your help. Lastly, thanks to my partner for the ungodly amount of support and patience, cause I know my perfectionism can get messy and they were always there to set me straight. I probably wouldn’t have had the courage to go through with this if it wasn’t for them. With all that out of the way...

“The Day a Lagomorph became a Sailor Soldier“

Word count: 18,361

Fog.

An intense fog was covering the entire place. Wherever he walked, no matter how much he had advanced, Max was not capable of seeing anything, or hearing anything. The atmosphere was cold and heavy, there was a weight that came directly from his legs, as they struggled to move across the intense fog field.

He desperately wanted to run through it, in hopes of finding something, someone, anything at all that could help him understand his situation. But no matter how hard he tried, his legs would not move. It almost felt as if he was slowly floating around.

He hadn’t even realized that, this entire time, he never felt his feet touching the floor, or a ground of any sort. The fog had made it impossible to see anything under him.

There were no echoes, no wind, not even the sound of his own breath was something he could perceive. Just pure, overwhelming silence. “What kind of place is this?” He wondered.

 “I’m so cold…”

“…Where are you?”

 As that last sentence crossed his mind, his ears finally began to capture a sound. It was the distant screams of a crowd, they were screams of terror. Or, were they cheering…?

No…it was both, both sounds from two different groups, clashing with one another. It became hard to tell exactly what was going on, but Max kept running forward. The sounds became louder and clearer, a clash of hard metals joined the chaos. There was a moment where he could hear the current event surrounding him. But despite this, no matter how much his eyes searched, no one was there with him.

The screams, the pleadings, they wouldn’t stop. His eyes kept searching, but it was all so loud and fast, was he going insane? Only the frantic sounds of his heart, pounding harder and harder into his ears, was able to overshadow it all. He closed his eyes and held his ears tightly.

“Where’s everyone? What is happening?!”

It was then when Max felt another presence approaching him, something physical. Something he might actually be able to see, someone he might be able to speak to! But there was no way for him to tell who it was without turning around first.

Disoriented and stumbling a little, he opened his eyes, turning around awkwardly. All he saw at that moment, was…

 “MAXIMILIANO!”

Max gasped. The loud and angry voice made him jump on his bed, his heart almost escaped out of his chest. He hardly had the time to process the situation before hearing that voice again, scolding him from the floor below him.

 “Maximiliano, you have FIVE minutes to get ready for school, or you’re going to be late! You hear me? FIVE. MINUTES.”

 The entire room was made out of vague shapes and shadows, Max barely managed to recognize the clock by his side. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision, and what he saw made him release a scream of pure horror.

 He jumped from his bed and quickly started to get dressed. He stood in front of a large mirror that was standing against the wall, on the back of his bed.

“MOM! Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

His mother was still on the second floor. “I tried waking you up nicely- Three times! But you wouldn’t answer, even with the alarm. So now you’re late!”

 Max, now all well dressed in his gakuran, went down the little stairs in his room and opened the little door on the floor to release the ladder. He threw his briefcase to the second floor before going down the ladder, only to stop halfway and jump down since it wasn’t very high. He grabbed his briefcase and started running downstairs to the kitchen as fast as he could, so fast, in fact, that he ended up rolling down the stairs instead.

 His mother heard the impact and immediately became worried. “Max! Geez, are you okay?!” She spoke from the kitchen, sitting at the table where she was previously reading the newspaper.  

“Oww…’Course I’m not, Mom!” He stood up and rubbed his lower back as he approached the kitchen, making loud and long hisses through his teeth to make it as evident as possible to her he was in pain. Although in reality, and surprisingly, Max didn’t feel the impact at all.

 His mother, while genuinely concerned, was still too upset to give Max the attention he was asking for.

 “Ay, este cabro…” She sighed “…You’re too careless! Here, take your lunch and leave already, and be careful out there!”

“Yeah, yeah!” He received the little lunch bag grudgingly and ran to the main door, but his mother made one last question before he opened the door.

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?”

 Max took a second to look around him and think, he had his lunch in one hand and his briefcase in the other. He had his notebooks, a pencil, what else could he be missing…?

 “…Oh c’mon.”

 Reluctantly, he approached his mother again to give her a quick peck on the cheek. His mother chuckled and said goodbye to her son as he closed the door. Because of his height, anyone would assume it’d take him a while to arrive to the school. But Max was incredibly agile, even for a lagomorph, and this physical ability had saved him from getting late a couple of times before. However, he had no idea what fate would prepare for him today.

 He was getting his hopes high as he quickly recognized the streets, knowing he was getting closer to his destination, “I can make it, I can make it! I’m gonna make it!!” he repeated to himself.

And he would have made it! If only he had noticed the little creature in front of him lying on the sidewalk. His foot stepped on it and quickly made him lose balance, making him fall on his precious face.

His nose was bleeding a bit, but that didn’t bother him. He was mostly worried about how the teacher would react to this ‘new look’.

 “AGH! Damn it, that’s gonna leave a mark! What the hell did I trip over with, anyway?”

 When he looked back, he noticed that the creature in the sidewalk was actually a small, white, and poor little rat that had the bad luck to cross paths with Max.

His first reaction was disgust, he shivered as he loudly reaffirmed that he just stepped on a rat, even if no one was around to hear. Then he noticed the rat was not moving, and now he was terrified he may have just committed his first murder, and he just began high school this year! What a world, what a world…

He was hesitant to hold the creature for obvious reasons, but it didn’t seem dirty. Its hair was pure white and radiant, it seemed soft at first glance, the only strange detail was the band aids it had on its forehead. Maybe it was already wounded before encountering Max? What if it had an owner? And what if it was a rich person who would seek the head of anyone who tried to hurt their pet? Max was about to panic at that very moment, so he gently pushed the little rodent with one of his fingers to see if there was any reaction. When he saw it shaking at the touch, he finally held it between his trembling hands.

 “H-hey, are you alive?! Oh crap, I’m so sorry! I didn’t break any bones, did I?”

 The little rat opened its eyes slowly, Max’s weight on its body really stunned it, but nothing the rodent wouldn’t be able to survive. The rodent started to shake in Max’s hands, seemingly trying to get to the band aids, its sudden movements almost made Max drop the creature, but he did his best to keep himself calm.

 “What’s wrong? You don’t like the band aids? …Do they itch, or something?”

It seemed like they were seriously annoying the rat, and Max was actually curious as to what kind of wound it could have on its forehead. Is it just a scratch? Or maybe something more horrific, more morbid and disgusting, that would keep him wild awake every night for the rest of his life? Whatever it was, he had to know!

With a small (not really) grin of curiosity on his face, he quickly began to remove the band aids from the rat’s forehead, and to his surprise, there were no signs of blood whatsoever. But before he could inspect better, the rat gave a high jump to his head, as a way to impulse itself in the air. The rat landed at the top of a wall that surrounded a garden of one of the houses, and its eyes seemed to be locked in Max’s eyes.

As the rat kept looking, Max finally took the chance to look at its forehead. It had a peculiar mark, a bald spot that resembled a crescent moon looking upward, which was quite funny to him.

The rat inclined itself to look at Max better, and with that he felt a slight sensation of intimidation. “Just what kind of rodent was this? Do they all behave this way?” His question would have to wait for another day, because the school’s bell gave its last rang, and now Max was officially late.

 “…GOD DAMNIT! I shouldn’t be wasting time like this! Crap, crap, CRAP!”

 He cleaned his nose, grabbed his briefcase, and restarted his race to the school. The little creature kept its eyes on him, until he was out of its sight.

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

 “Ah…Crap.”

 As Max took the time to catch his breath, he stood in front of the closed door of his classroom. Because he had arrived late, he knew that if he called out for his teacher or knocked on the door, he would not be let in. But worst of all, he was probably deemed absent from this class, and would not be allowed inside until the first hour had passed.

He felt humiliated, having to stand in the corridor all by himself, but also tired, with his eyes slowly feeling dry and heavy. If only he hadn't spent the night reading manga, he might have woken up at a decent time, and then made it in time for school. Just who was responsible for that?

 “Geez…I can't believe a cute lil’ lagomorph like me has to be standing up in the middle of the corridor. My feet hurt so much because of these stupid school slippers...Ugh, and I really tried to get here fast!”

 Instead of continuing complaining to himself, Max started looking outside the window seeking for anything to distract him. Sadly, all there was were the clouds crossing across the sky, and a few birds flying by. The small creatures quickly reminded him of the small rodent he encountered not too long ago, and the strange event made him think of his even stranger dream from this morning.

If he was being honest, this was not the first dream he had that was related to that fog and those feelings of incapacity. But these dreams started so long ago, Max could no longer remember when exactly, and the mere act of trying brought him headaches.

There was something about these dreams that made him feel nervous, as if something horrible was going to happen soon. Or maybe it was something that had already happened, and his mind was trying to recall the event. But no matter how familiar the scenario felt in his mind, it still didn’t ring any bells, Max was sure he had never been in such a situation before in his whole life!

And yet…

 “…Ugh.” he rubbed his eyes. “Maybe my head is making up this stuff ‘cause of the lack of sleep. I hate waking up so early, my eyes are burning.”

  And suddenly, he heard an uproarious growl making itself present all across the corridor. Of course... He completely forgot he didn’t have breakfast this morning, no wonder he felt exhausted.

 Max looked around the corridor to make sure he was alone, and took his lunch bag from his briefcase, desperately trying to untie the knot. Once his bento box was uncovered, he opened it without a care. The smell that came out of the box was mesmerizing for him, and the content’s reveal was too much to handle. His mouth was watering, and his stomach only growled louder at the sight.

  “Well… I’m sure it’ll be fine if I just take a small bite to compensate for skipping breakfast! Thanks for the food!”

 But just as Max was about to insert his teeth into the delicious food, the door of the classroom slipped open.

  “Tsukino Maximiliano, what do you think you’re doing?”

  Max hid the bento box behind his back in an attempt to pretend he wasn’t doing what he was clearly caught doing, but somehow, his plan failed; and the look on Miss Gibbens face said she was not pleased in the slightest. He then tried to find an excuse, but his teacher did not give him a second to speak, so she proceeded.

  “It is for behavior like this that your grades are declining!”

 And with that statement out of the way, she showed Max the results of his last English test, putting the test right in front of his face.

With only a quick inspection to the piece of paper, Max felt like he wanted to disappear at that very moment. Only 30 points? How embarrassing, and it was especially frustrating because he actually did know all the answers to these questions. If only he hadn’t fallen asleep during the test, maybe he could’ve answered properly, and with a more readable handwriting, too. He managed to hear a few chuckles from his classmates before the teacher finally allowed him inside the classroom.

“This day can only get better”, he sarcastically thought to himself.

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

 In another part of the world, in a much more cold, dark and desolate location, a heavy snowstorm was taking place. And among that storm, somewhere under the snow, an old castle of great size lay hidden. The material of the walls was rusty and cracked, and the colors had faded. Some of the pillars that decorated hallways had collapsed long ago, and darkness swallowed every room to the smallest corner. Only the weak light, emitted by the very few torches hung on the walls, would allow anyone to watch where they step.

Somewhere, in one of the many hallways, a tall anthropomorphic dog in a dark blue suit was walking through. His fur was of a pale, prim color, and his snoot was of a much whiter tone. He had short pointy ears hanging from his head, and his eyes were of a pastel blue color. He adjusted his white gloves with care as he approached his destination, his eyes fixated on it as they looked forward.

He arrived at a small sanctuary of sorts, where at its center resided a small pit completely filled with clay. He stood up in front of it, he stretched his right arm, and with a firm tone in his voice he called a name…

 “Rise up, Morgana! Oh fervent servant of our mistress!”

  The clay inside the pit began to shake, and it quickly raised together, struggling violently as it tried to take form. Eventually it transformed into a humanoid creature with a curvy shape, and once the base of the body was done, the clay figure began to draw in itself clothes, hair, eyes and other details. Once it all solidified, color began to fill its cheek, to then spread to its entire body, the creation was complete.

 “Now listen closely, Morgana, your mission today will be to collect a large amount of human energy.  But above it all, you must find an ancient object, a Silver Crystal. It is of great importance to our queen, so do not disappoint me.”

  The humanoid figure smiled at the order and made a reverence to her master, before vanishing in the air.

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

 Back at the school, everyone was getting ready for lunch time, but Max was still sitting at his desk, completely asleep. The view was quite disturbing, actually, his mouth was completely open and leaking disgusting fluids all over his desk. He was so still he may as well be dead, but Inés was so used to this she didn’t give it any second thoughts. She and Max have been friends since Elementary school, and his weird mannerism was an everyday thing for her, it was amusing at best.

  “Max…Hey, Max.”

  She put her hand on his back and shook the lagomorph's body in hopes of getting a reaction. It took Max a second, but he finally came back to some of his senses and slowly opened his eyes.

  “I-Inés…What are you doing here?” He cleaned his mouth with the sleeve of his gakuran in a sloppy manner.

“What do you mean?” She laughed. “We’re at school, what else am I going to be doing here?”

“S-School…?” Max’s eyes were squinting as he tried to look at his surroundings. He barely recognized the shape of Inés in front of him, and even less the entire classroom.

“Geez, how can you get that disoriented after a nap? C’mon, it’s lunch time, Lorne and the girls are waiting.”

  Max rubbed his eyes as he began to search for his lunch bag among his other stuff, and Inés cleaned the mess over his desk with her handkerchief.

  “You’re just like a baby.” She commented as a way to tease him.

 After Max was ready and fully awake, they began walking downstairs on their way to the schoolyard, both him and Inés carrying their bentos. Inés didn't take long to ask him what the reason behind the hijinks of this morning was, with a mocking smile on her face. The Lagomorph didn’t take the interrogation too kindly, claiming everything that happened today was out of his control. But there was one situation that he did not even think of mentioning to his friend, and that was the strange encounter with the white rodent.

In reality, he pretty much forgot about the encounter at this point, thinking of it as some sort of fever dream, an illusion of his head at best. And right now he had only one thing in his mind: Sit on his favorite bench, gossip with his friends and eat until his lunch was no more.

 When Inés stopped the teasing for the sake of Max’s ego, the duo finally arrived with Lorne, who was waiting for them with an orange juice box on his hand; Sitting on a bench that was under the trees. In a bench right next to the last but in a vertical position, two other girls were sitting on it. Their names were Amano and Suri, friends of Inés from another class who would sometimes join in the little group of Max, Lorne and Inés.

  Inés sat together with the girls, leaving Max no choice but to sit at the other extreme of the bench, which was nearest to Lorne. Max didn’t like having to sit this close to Lorne, as his sole presence would put him in a bad mood, but he wasn’t quite sure why. Lorne wasn't a bad kid, he was only a huge nerd who never shut up, but that seems to be enough of a reason for Max to sort of dislike his “friend”.

The group greeted each other and began talking about how their day went, and which classes they had today. Lorne immediately mentioned the English test results, saying, or rather showing off in Max’s eyes, how he got a better score than most kids in the class.

 “I thought it’d be an easy exam, but 95 points is all I managed to get. I guess I should have prepared myself more! Tests are just like games, aren't they?”

  ‘Games’? How could he even say such a thing! How dare he presume to be better at English than him. Max was focusing on his food to avoid looking at Lorne, but he was absolutely furious, nobody was even laughing at his joke!

Well…Inés did chuckle a little, but Lorne was still irritating in Max’s eyes, and no one would be able to change his mind.

 “Oh! By the way, how many points did you get, Mr. Max?”

  Max choked on his tamagoyaki, he swallowed it the best he could before starting to laugh as loud as he could.

 “Ah, me? Well, I got a perfect score, of course! Haha!”

“Wow! Really?! Well, you are a genius when it comes to English, Mr. Max!”

  Lorne was a kid who had no malice in his heart. His admiration towards Max’s capacity to understand a foreign language that, to him, seemed so complex and sophisticated, was as true and honest as it can be.  And as much as Max disliked Lorne, he had to admit, Lorne knew how to flatter a guy. After all, who doesn't like a bit of praise for their accomplishments?

 “Could I see your test? I-I’d just like to see what answers you have so I can understand what I did wrong! Of course, if you don’t have a problem with that!”

 At that point, Max was no longer laughing, his thoughts were rushing in his head trying to find a good excuse not to seem suspicious. That was the sign for Inés to interfere and help her friend get out of the hole he was digging himself in.

 “Hey now, how about we change the subject?” Inés said calmly. “We shouldn't be thinking about school in our recess anyway, this is our time to relax.”

 Lorne was quick to apologize, not wanting to disturb any of his friends. Max on the other hand, resumed his affairs and continued eating his lunch, swallowing both the food and the shame deep down his throat. Meanwhile everyone else kept the conversation going. That’s when one of Inés' friends, Amano, took the chance to speak.

 “Oh, that’s right! Inés, have you heard about the recent robbery in a jewelry store at Chūō? It happened in the middle of the night, and the owners almost got hurt! There’s been lots of crimes near Minato ward these days, too. You and your mother should be careful!”

“Yes, I’ve heard, and you’re right. My mom’s been taking precautions, but she says there’s nothing to worry about, that our store is safe.”

Inés put her hands together, tightly. “Still, it’s a little scary to think that something could happen to us. I’m honestly not sure what I’d do…”

 Her friends immediately noticed her concern, and Suri began rubbing her back as a way to comfort her. Lorne thought this would be a good time to share his own news, and that way lighter up the mood of the conversation.

 “But you forgot the most important detail, Amano! Sailor V arrested the criminals from the Chūō robbery! It’s been confirmed!”  

“No way!” Amano gasped. “Sailor V? You mean it?”

Max’s right ear twitched, and finally he raised his head up to look at Lorne. “Sailor V? What the heck is that?”

“You don't KNOW?” The group exclaimed in awe.

Max shrugged his shoulders and lowered his ears. He shouted “I’m not DEAF, you guys!”

  Lorne chuckled, he began to fix his glasses and showed an unusual confidence in his face. After quickly cleaning his throat, he began his tale.

 “Sailor V is a beautiful and mysterious heroine in shining armor, who wears a mask to hide her identity. She appeared a couple of years ago out of nowhere, and has been helping keep the city a safe place ever since. Many people know about her existence, but pictures of her are very rare, and always unclear! She always leaves the crime scene before the arrival of the police, leaving the criminals tied up and unconscious, ready to be arrested!”

“Woah!” The girls exclaimed.

“It is said she has very long hair that shines in the dark, and that she's incredibly strong! But the biggest rumor that’s being spread is that she works as a special agent for the police, but nobody knows for sure…”

   The three girls were fascinated by the tale, but Lorne was impatiently waiting for the response of Max the most. There was a second of silence before Max finally raised his head and looked at Lorne.

  “…Oh, yer done already? Sorry, I stopped listening after you said ‘Sailor V’.”

 Everyone sighed.

 “Anyway...” Suri started. “I'm so happy Sailor V is back on her rounds! It’s been a couple of months since we’ve heard of her!”

“Could you imagine, though?” Amano sighed as she fixed her hair. “Being surrounded by so many beautiful, sparkling, precious gems? Honestly, I don’t think I could resist the temptation myself!”

“Ah, you’re right. Jewels are just so beautiful!”

“Now we’re talking!” Max quickly joined in the conversation. “Inés, your mom has the jewelry store open today, right?”

“Oh, yes! In fact, there’s a special sale today, you can find some jewelry for half the original price.”

“That’s great! We should go check out those prices, then! What do you say, girls?”

“Inéees?” The girls stared at her.

“…Weeell…” She pondered in a teasing tone. “…I don’t see why not!”

 When Max said all, of course, he was not trying to include Lorne. As the boy drank his juice, Amano, Max and Suri cheered in excitement.

Max then noticed Inés resting her hand on his small shoulder, she was looking at him with a smile.

  “What’s wrong, Inés?”

“Sorry, but I just remembered I’ve got a surprise for you. Follow me!”

 The word “surprise” made him think of the word “gift”, and because Inés was relatively rich, his expectations were always high. Inés could see the interest sparkling in his eyes, and Max did not hesitate to follow her back inside the school building. That is until he noticed that the direction they were going would actually lead them to the bathrooms of the first floor.

  “Hey, Inés, what gives?”

“Okay, so!” She stopped the walk and turned around to see Max. “I know you’re going to freak out, but hear me out. I need you to get in the girls bathroom and wait for me in the last stall.”

“What?! Why?”

“Hurry up before the break is over. I promise I’ll be back soon!”

“No, but-! I-Inés! What is…!”

  As Inés ran upstairs, she left Max standing in front of the bathroom with a good amount of questions wandering around his head. He stood in that same spot for a few minutes, debating on what he should do. Should he just wait outside instead? Or should he go back with his friends and ignore this nonsensical request?

What was she thinking anyway? Inés was not usually like this, and Max really hated to be left in the dark. But because she was his best friend, and quite honestly, he really wanted that expensive gift, he thought he should trust her. After all, what reasons did he have not to?

And so, making sure nobody was looking, he ran inside the bathroom and into the stall Inés had told him to go. He stood still in a corner, quite nervous, and he had two main reasons. One: because he didn’t want to get caught by some girl passing by. And two: Because he absolutely did not want to accidentally step near the toilet, who knows what sort of disgusting and horrible acts have been committed there.

 Everything was quiet, for the most part. Except for the noisy voices of kids playing outside, this was mainly the floor of the junior high students, after all. Thankfully, none of the little girls had approached the bathroom so far, which made him feel a bit less anxious, yet not enough to lower his guard.

He stood there for just a few minutes, yet it felt like an eternity to him. Suddenly, he began to hear some steps entering the bathroom that slowly approached his stall. He thought it may be Inés, but didn’t dare to speak up. What if it’s another girl? The sole idea made him stop breathing for a second.

 It wasn’t until he heard a quiet “Max? Are you there?” that he sighed with relief.

“Yeah, I’m here, but what the heck are we doing here, Inés? I could get in serious trouble for this!”

“Shh!” she gave Max a warning as he was being a bit too loud. “I know, I’m sorry! I just wanted to make sure nobody would look at you weird. Now here, open it quick!”

 ‘Look at you weird’? What exactly was she referring to? Most kids would already look at him weird for being one of the very few Lagomorphs at this school, so what could possibly draw more attention to Max?

Inés slid a black bag under the door of the stall, Max took it and began to rip it apart without much care. Although the sound of the bag being torn apart echoed through the room, he thought it was better to do it quickly and get this over with, rather than do it slowly and wait for someone to come and catch them.

  Once he recognized the content inside the bag, his anger vanished, only leaving pure and utter happiness that reflected through his face. It was a dark blue sailor uniform, with a big bow of the same color attached to the blouse and two thin red stripes in the collar and the cuffs. It was the design used by the senior high school girls from this establishment, and it was his size! Max did not think twice about trying it out.

When Max was finally ready, he left the bathroom stall he was hiding in and began to show Inés his new look, giving a quick spin around to show the entire outfit.

 “So! How do I look?”

Inés giggled. “Well, the important question is: How do you feel? Do you like it?”

 He began to look at himself, holding his skirt from each side like a princess in a big dress. The dark color of the uniform gave him a feeling of maturity and realization. For the very first time, he felt like a full-blown senior high school student, which drew a big smile on his face.

  “I… LOVE IT!”

He jumped into Inés arms and hugged her as tightly as he could, clinging onto her like a child holding onto his mother. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” is all he kept repeating. Inés smiled as she reciprocated the hug.

“How did you manage to get one of my size? And with the summer blouse included!”

“I, uh, didn't. I got the smallest uniform there was and I had to cut and sew some parts myself.”

“Wait, wait! Wait... You made this uniform? For ME?”

“You said you wanted to wear a skirt this year, something different to start high school with, and I just-”

“No, no, no. Say no more…” He purposefully hid the upper half of his face under his arm as he kept holding onto his friend. “You’re such a kind soul… I-I really don’t deserve you, Inés. I think…I may even cry a little…”

“Oh, please.” she gave a quick eye roll. “You’re not the type.”

Max drastically changed his tone and stopped covering his face. “Ah, you’re right! You know me so well, Inés!”

They both laughed it off.

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

 It was now around 3 in the afternoon. School was finally over and Max, alongside his friends, were ready to start their favorite activity of the day: Window shopping!

Max was pretty cheerful, maybe a bit too cheerful, but not for the reasons the girls thought. While he was indeed excited to go see precious stones and gems, among other stuff, all he really thought about was how cute he felt in his new uniform. When Amano and Suri saw him they just laughed it off, not thinking much of his look. Inés on the other hand, was happy to see that her small action had brought so much joy to her friend.

“Max, Look!” Inés called his attention, as he was still with his head in the clouds. He shifted his attention to the tall, very fancy building at the end of the street. Its exterior walls were white and the first floor’s showcase had purple windows, while the other three upper floors had crystal clear windows.

Max instantly knew what the building was, but it didn't take much work to figure it out, since there was already a big and very "in your face" signboard at the upper left of the first floor, which had the store's name written with big cursive letters, the Jewelry ABE・P.

"Kinda cheesy" he thought. But that didn't stop him or the girls from running right to the store's showcase and see what they had for sale.

Inés on the other hand, simply stood behind them, as a way to not disturb them. The shiny rocks that were on sale were nothing she hadn't seen before, considering it’s her mother’s work, and jewelry itself was not one of her biggest interests anyway. But she still explained in the most brief way possible all the articles that were being displayed in the showcase, just to make her friends happy.

 "And that one is called ‘Pigeon blood ruby’, it costs one billion yen! Unfortunately, this one is not on discount.”

 Max frowned. “You're serious? Who the heck would have that much money these days?”

“C’mon Max, I’m sure there’s more accessible prices inside the store!” Suri smiled at Max before following Amano inside the building. Inés then approached him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go, Max.”

   As the automatic door opened, the group was immediately able to hear the lousy crowd of women. Looking at, taking, and wearing as much jewelry as their wallets could afford. The view was shocking at first, but nothing that could be considered strange, this was a discount sale after all. Whatever reason a person may have, the opportunity to get a pretty necklace, or a shiny ring, would not be wasted.

And of course, Inés’ mother knew she only needed to give these people a little tiny bit of encouragement to buy everything. And so, with her sales megaphone, she continued to cheer on the crowd.

  “Thank you everyone for coming! Go ahead and look, there’s enough jewelry for everyone! Our jewels are of the best quality, I assure you that you will not find these beautiful pieces anywhere else at this price!”

 Inés’s mother, ‘Mrs. Abel’, was a middle aged woman with light brown, short curly hair. She enjoyed dressing up in fancy clothes and wearing a modest amount of jewelry, along with some red lipstick to highlight her face.

‘Mrs.Abel’ also liked to keep her store clean, the floor was sparkling white, and Max could practically see his own reflection.

The room was huge, with cream colored walls on the first floor, and sky blue colored walls on the second floor, which was visible from the group’s position; alongside the many rooms of the second floor. The second floor was also being supported by big, white pillars (three on each side of the first floor), that would give the store a classy vibe.

At the top of it all, a great Chandelier full of crystals was hanging from the ceiling, currently being unused. Max assumed that because of its great size, it would be more than enough to illuminate the entire room during the night.

  “Mom, I’m home!”

 “Ah, Inés! Welcome home, darling!” ‘Mrs. Abel’ turned around to greet her daughter, as she smiled cheerfully. “Are those your friends?”

 “Yes.”

‘Mrs. Abel’ giggled. “Wonderful! Don’t worry girls, I know there’s a lot of people here, but feel free to look at anything you like. I’ll even give you a special discount for being friends of Inés!”

 “Seriously?!” Max and the girls stared at each other with their mouths open, the sale was already crazy cheap, now they would get another discount on top of the already established one? ‘Mrs. Abel’ either hit her head really hard today, or just didn’t care how much money she would be losing.

Either way, Amano and Suri immediately ran into the crowd of women to see if there was anything that they could find intact, and Max was just about to follow them. But then, it hit him, a fact he completely dismissed for the entire day, something he could‘ve prevented, but was now too late…

He was out of cash. And what’s worse, even if he ran back home right now, he could not ask his parents for a single yen, no. Not after that terrible grade he got on his English test. He knew what would happen once they found out, which would be soon or later.

So, as he quickly accepted his defeat, he limited himself to stay beside Inés and watch with melancholy how his friends got to enjoy the sale. Without him.

  “…You know, something about this feels…Wrong.” Inés murmured.

“Tell me about it…”

“I mean, I know my mom is very enthusiastic… But, we've never had so many sales before, and never at this scale! I wonder what’s gotten into her.”

Max just sighed, his eyes completely fixed on the crowd.

 “Please, do not push each other!” ‘Mrs. Abel’ kept on cheering her clients. “I promise there’s enough for everyone!”

 Inés stared at her mother, trying with all her might to discover what was going on inside her head at this moment. Despite them being in the same room, Inés felt a certain distance between the two, but what could be causing these feelings? This is her mother, she has been in this business for years, and she absolutely must know what she’s doing.

Yet, why is she doing this? Inés’ little head kept working out an answer, yet it would not come out.

 And speaking of questionable intentions, Max just had an idea.

 “Oee, Inés.” He whispered.

“Oh-” Inés snapped back into reality “Yes?”

“Ye think you could, please, pretty please, lend me some money? I forgot mine at home!”

“Ah, sure. What do you need it for?”

“Mmm, well…” Max danced around the question for a little. “You knooow~”

 Inés tilted her head slightly.

 “…Ah, I see. No, sorry Max.”

“Aww, c’mon! You’re my best friend in the whole wide world! Can’t you help out a friend in need?”

Inés used a more serious tone, without trying to be rude. “Max, any money I have was given to me by my mother. If I lend it to you to buy jewelry, there would be no gain for my mother’s business. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to say no this time.”

“Geez! A simple ‘no’ would've been enough.” He crossed his arms and looked in an opposite direction.

 Inés sighed. Max was exasperating sometimes, it was hard to say no to him without getting on his nerves. Yet somehow, neither of them could stay angry at each other for too long.

 “Alright…But could you at least let me use the bathroom? I need to change clothes.”

“Oh, yes. Of course! Follow me.”

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

 Max said goodbye to Inés before leaving the store, and started walking to the direction of his house, now wearing his gakuran; its dark and lifeless blue color only lowered the mood for him. What a big chance he had right now, he could’ve gotten something pretty for himself like a ring, or a necklace, but he had to screw it up by wasting his allowance on childish stuff. And not to mention that darn test…

He took the piece of paper out of his bag and stared at it, it was covered in red lines crossing out all the questions he didn’t answer, while the ones he did answer were all perfect. “If my mom sees this, she’s definitely gonna kill me…”

 Part of him had gotten used to this by now. How he couldn’t bring himself to study, getting yelled at by his teacher for his poor grades, getting yelled at back at home again. But, he was supposed to be good at this one subject, it was his thing! And because of a single mistake, he ruined it.

What bothered him most, is that there was only one person to blame for this, but his pride wouldn’t let him say who exactly.

 “…BAH! Let the wind blow it away!” He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it behind him.

 There we go, now that he got rid of the test, he could just lie to his mom and say the test results haven't been given yet. Eventually, she will forget about it, and Max will avoid any further trouble-

 “Hey, Bunny-boy!”

 …Perhaps not.

Max felt a shiver down his spine. Something about the tone in the stranger’s voice instantly told him he must’ve done something bad to bother him.

“Do I look like a trash-can to you? You should be more careful where you aim at, it hit my face.”

Max held his breath in for a moment, how is it possible he didn’t notice someone standing behind him? Was he really that stupid? As much as he would’ve loved to run away home and avoid the conflict, he turned around to face the stranger.

 “I-I’m really sorry, sir! I-I wasn’t paying attention!”

 Max didn’t really know who he was talking to or how old they were, but he assumed he was a ‘sir’ when he noticed all the fancy clothes he was wearing. Max knew nothing about fashion, otherwise, he would’ve been able to guess what he was looking at was a morning dress. Max did, however, recognize the quality of the fabric, and the amount of earth-like colors in the suit.

From the dark green coat and his green beige waistcoat, to his brown trousers, along the orange necktie that stood out from the entire combo. To Max it was quite hexcentric, ridiculous even, but of course- He would not voice his opinion of fashion to this stranger.

 Besides the peculiar clothing, the man was tall, extremely tall. Especially for Max, who could barely reach the guy’s stomach. Even though he looked quite chubby, there was no doubt for Max that a single push from the guy could leave him in the ground. He also looked like an anthropomorphic being, just like him, but Max couldn’t tell what kind.

Max began to search for more clues. At first he thought he could be a bear, mainly for the color of his fur. But despite his height, the stranger wasn't tall enough to pass as one. Max then tried to get a look at his face, but the stranger had it covered with a wrinkled piece of paper in front of him, the same one Max threw at him by accident.

Wait a minute... It was Max’s test!

  “…30 points?” The stranger smirked.

 Now he was making fun of him! The shame, the horror! Right now, a good punch in the gut from the man didn’t seem like such a terrible option for Max. At least if he was left unconscious, he wouldn’t have to hear any more humiliating comments about his poor performance.

 “Geez. You should focus on your studies first, rather than carelessly littering people on the street, Bunny-boy."

 “B-Bunny?” Although he might have been afraid, there was one thing Max would absolutely, not by any means, tolerate from anyone in this world; and that was being called a bunny. He may have let it slide the first time, but he would not do the same for a second time.

“Excuse me, sir, but you should get your eyes checked! Because I am a Lagomorph, not a Bunny!”

The stranger chuckled at Max’s reaction and returned the wrinkled piece of paper to him, placing it right on his face as a way of teasing him. “Well, you should pay more attention in class, Lago-boy.”

Max growled at the rude gesture, he took his test and violently put it aside, finally allowing the man and him to be face to face. “That- Is none of your business!”

  Max was frozen. He stared into the stranger’s eyes, and despite the fact that he was wearing shades, Max could still see right through them. Finally, he was able to figure out the anthro-being he was dealing with.

He was an anthropomorphic dog with black eyes. His snoot was round and his ears were long and fluffy, they were practically hanging from his head, and Max felt the strange need to touch them.

He started to get the feeling that something about this guy was very, very familiar. And the more he stared at him, taking the time to analyze all of his features, searching for that ‘ah-ha!’ sign that would help him understand: “Just who is this guy?” The more he felt the two of them had, somehow, already met. But where and when, exactly? He couldn’t tell.

 “Hey, Lago-boy? Did you lose something?” The dog waved his hand in front of Max’s face.

“H-Huh?” Max blinked twice, startled.

“Oh, geez. You just keep living in the clouds and refuse to get down, don’t you?”

“What? N-no!”

“Alright, alright, if you say so. It’s ‘none of my business’ anyway.”

The dog turned around in the other direction and said goodbye to Max, but Max wasn’t done with this conversation just yet.

“Wait a second!”

“Hmm?” The dog stood still and looked back at Max.

 Every part of his body was shaking, his hunch was practically screaming, he had to know! Max had to know if, by the smallest chance…If it was him.

…But he did not have the courage to ask. Too many unpleasant things happened today, and now, based merely on feelings, he was going to ask this total stranger if he was ‘this’ certain person? And what if he said no? Max would only look like a complete idiot in front of someone he doesn’t even know. No, he would rather leave things just like this, as mere coincidences, and avoid any further embarrassment.

 “…Sorry, nevermind. Must’ve confused you with someone else.”

 Max then walked in the opposite direction without saying anything else, leaving the dog in front of the jewelry store. The stranger was a bit confused, but he quickly dismissed the moment as nothing of importance, as he had other things to worry about. He shifted his attention to the tall building in front of him and examined every inch of its structure, including the windows, until he was convinced that this was the place he was looking for.

 Max kept going on his path, also trying to dismiss the event that just happened, and get home as soon as possible. Perhaps he could get a nice nap, too, he felt like he deserved it after such a stressful day. But that guy, his face…

“It had to be him, I know it was him.” He kept repeating those words to himself, and he would argue back at himself. “But it’s impossible, it can’t be, they look nothing alike, and he would never dress like that!”

The ideas kept clashing with one another over and over again, and Max felt a headache was coming soon if he didn’t do something about this matter. That’s when he noticed that he was passing right in front of a game center, one he casually visits now and then, The Game Center CROWN. And to his surprise, a poster had been recently added to the wall promoting a new game.

The poster was a cartoony illustration of a girl with long, light blonde hair and a red mask covering her eyes. She was wearing stylized armor that seemed inspired by a sailor uniform. She had the look of a hero ready to fight the bad guys, which were also depicted in the poster, but without taking the hero’s spotlight. The game was called Sailor V: Hero of the Night! Now where has he heard that name before…?

 “Ah, this must be the girl Lorne was talking about! ‘Sailor V’, huh?”

 Max examined the poster for a while, with slight annoyance, the thought of this popular superhero girl really tickled his anger, and his envy as well. Why was she getting all the attention? What made her so special? Is it because she had a fancy name and cute clothes? Anyone could do that. At least that’s what he thought, as he imagined himself in the spot of Sailor V. But that was just a fantasy, deep down, he knew it was impossible. Some people’s lives are just too easy, he thought, and he was not one of the lucky ones.

 “…What a stupid name. What does the V stand for, anyway-?”

“Good afternoon, sir.”

 Max released a fast scream of pure, sheer terror and stood back, leaning against the door entrance of the arcade. He looked back at the person who just spoke to him, and felt great relief when he realized who it was.

 “H-Hyōsuke! I, uh…Didn’t see you there!”

 Hashimoto Hyōsuke was the son of the owner of the game center CROWN, and had a part time job in the arcade. He had tanned skin and his hairstyle was similar to a ‘pompadour’, he also liked to wear shades all the time and never take them off.

They met at a time when Max used to visit the arcade frequently, and somehow became good friends. Despite the fact that Hyōsuke is a University student, Max always addresses him by his first name and almost never used honorifics, and despite Max being younger than him, Hyōsuke always treated him in a very polite manner. Although, to be fair, he tends to treat everyone respectfully no matter their age, and Max loved this! Being treated like some sort of respected gentleman always boosted his ego.

 “Please step aside from the door, sir, before it-”

“WOAH-!”

“…Opens.”

 Max, who just met with the cold and crystal clear floor of the game center, immediately started complaining. Not because the fall was painful in any way (And even if it was, he lacked sensitivity to pain.), but because he liked complaining, it was a way to release stress.

 “God- DAMN IT! Why does this keep happening to me?!”

“It’s okay sir, everyone has accidentally fallen into an automatic door once in their lives, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

 Hyōsuke offered his hand to Max as a way to help him stand up, the lagomorph took it with certain embarrassment.

 “Thanks, Hyōsuke…But that’s not what I mean.”

“Did something happen?”

“Eh… Let’s just say this wasn’t my day, at all.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Perhaps a time in the arcade would help you clear your mind.”

“Woah, sneaky guy! But, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t have a single coin in my pocket.”

“Are you quite sure, sir? We have a new game available since yesterday.”

“A new game?!” The smile that had just formed in his face quickly came and went as the gears in his head started to turn. “…Wait, you’re not talking about that Sailor V chick, right? Because in that case, I-”

 Max froze for a mere second and shook his left ear. He felt a presence behind him, something with his eyes fixated on his back, but once he turned around, he couldn’t see anyone else. It was just him and Hyōsuke, and yet, he could still feel there was someone else.

 "Something troubling you, sir?"

“Huh? Oh, no, nothing at all! Sorry, I’m a little distracted and I just want to go home and rest.”

 There was something troubling him indeed, but Max couldn’t figure out himself what it was exactly that gave him these feelings, and he found no point in telling his friend.

 “Alright sir, be careful on the way home.”

“Yeah, I will. Goodbye, Hyōsuke!”

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

 As the sun slowly sank through the pink clouds, Max had finally arrived at his home, and he was ready to take a snack from the fridge, relax and take a good nap. He opened the door and announced his arrival.

“Mama, I’m home!”

His mother came from the kitchen, cleaning her wet hands with her apron. “Welcome home, hun! What took you so long?”

“Ah, Sorry! I was hanging out with Inés and we didn’t notice how late it was getting!”

“I see… Oh!”

Mrs. Tsukino giggled as their conversation was abruptly interrupted by tiny bundles of joy, her six youngest daughters, who were happy to see her big brother finally at home.

“Max! Max! Max!” they shouted as they jumped and pushed each other playfully, trying to get a chance at hugging their big brother. Max had to make an effort not to lose his balance.

“What took you so long?” said Olivia in an upset tone, as if trying to scold Max.

“Did you bring us something?” Said Asami, the tiniest of the sisters.

“Asami! Don’t be rude!” Replied Josefa, the tallest and oldest of the sisters.

“We really, really, really missed you!” Said Isabella, the dearest sister out of the six.

 Since she was born without one of her legs, she had to use a special prosthetic leg for a tiny lagomorph like herself. But she didn't mind. In fact, she thought it looked cool.

 “Hey, Hey! One at a time, kiddoes! You're gonna make me fall on my butt!”  

 The little ones began to laugh.

 “Girls, please. Give your brother some space.”

 The little ones apologized, finally leaving the poor lagomorph a moment to breathe and stand up properly. The girls hid behind their mother as she began retaking her conversation with her son.

 “By the way, Max. How did you do in your exam?”

“Oh, That! Well, you see-”

“Because I crossed paths with Lorne earlier today, and he told me you guys got the results already. He said he got 95 points!”

 Max stood still with a blank expression, admiring how his entire plan crumbled in front of him, thanks to his gossipy little friend. “That blabbermouth, I’m gonna strangle him for this!” He took a mental note before proceeding to answer to his mother.

“…OH! REALLY? Woah that’s AMAZING isn’t it?” He laughed it off, pretending to play dumb as a last attempt to escape his mother’s interrogation. But it didn't work out.

“Now tell me, how did you do?”

“Well…Ah, you see! …Th-the thing iiis…!”

“Maximiliano.”

Max was looking to the ground avoiding eye contact, but he already knew his mom’s tender, welcoming smile was vanishing, along with her patience. He sighed and accepted that there was no escape from the hell that was about to rise, and decided to give her the test in her hands.

Mrs. Tsukino took it and examined it for a moment, a moment that felt like an eternity for Max. The little ones got on their tip toes trying to take a look as well. Everything was quiet for a few seconds, until…

“Maximiliano Santiago Tsukino SILVA!”

The rage Mrs. Tsukino felt was so strong, Max swore he could see fire in her eyes.

“Uh-Ooh.” The little girls stepped aside, knowing exactly what was coming for their big brother.

Max began to sweat, somehow; despite lagomorphs being incapable of it. He chuckled nervously. “M-Mama…I can explain!”

“¡Cómo se te ocurre traerme una nota tan baja a MI casa! ¡AFUERA! ¡NO TE QUIERO VER!”

“W-WAIT! WOAH-!”

Mrs. Tsukino furiously pushed Max outside of the house and shut the door in front of him, leaving him in the front yard to think of what he just did. In part, it could’ve been worse, at least he didn’t get an ear pulling or something similar. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure for how long his mom was planning on leaving him there, and the mere thought of spending the night outside wasn’t comforting. So he followed the next step of his plan B.

He began to make a scandal.

“MAMAAA! C’MON, IT’S NOT THAT BAD, PLEASE LET ME IN, PLEAAASE!”

“What’s going on here?”

Max’s left ear twitched, he recognized that voice! It was the annoying and overly confident voice of his little brother, Dante, the oldest of the group of the six lagomorph boys. They approached the front door as they were eating their lollipops, seemingly showing them off to their big brother as they walked past him.

“What, did you get kicked out again?” said Dante with a big smile.

“Wouldn’t that make it the 4th time?” Said Bruno, a chubby, small lagomorph.

“No, actually. Last time, mom locked the house after she went shopping and forgot Max was going to arrive late, so he had to wait outside. This is only the 3rth time Mom kicks him out for failing an exam.” Said Hiroaki, the smartest of the six boys.

“What an Idiot! Why didn't he use the back door?” Said Yukio, who was carrying a chocolate bar and a soda inside his open backpack.

“We don’t have one.” Replied Hiroaki.

“We don’t?”

“Hey!” Max had enough of these kids and their mean comments. “How can you treat me like that? I’m your big brother, you should respect me!”

“It’s not our fault you have such terrible grades! I wish we had a big brother that was actually smart!” Dante then made a funny expression to mock him, sticking his tongue out.

“That’s IT!”

The boys were laughing uncontrollably at Max and how easy it was to provoke him. He was getting ready to throw a kick at them and they quickly went inside the house to avoid it. Dante shut the door as fast as his giggling body allowed him, without realizing that the poor door would be the one receiving the impact of that Kick.

Max hit the door with his bare foot, harder than he expected. He hit it so hard that he actually felt that pain slowly building up from his heel to his brain and the tip of his ears. He held it in, he was really trying to hold it in, but he couldn't. He let out a scream of pure pain, combined with more whining. While he was indeed insensitive to pain, there were still certain things he could feel, and right now he wished he didn't.

 “MOOOM! OPEN THE DOOR, DANTE HIT ME!”

 The boys were still giggling inside the house, they couldn’t help it, but the girls didn’t enjoy this attitude in the slightest; so they made an attempt at trying to talk things out with their mom. They tugged her apron gently, asking to please let their big brother back inside the house. “He didn’t mean to!” they said. But Mrs. Tsukino was not going to let him in that easily, what he did was unforgivable, and he deserved to be reprimanded for it!

…Although, if he kept screaming for a few more minutes, she may consider letting it pass. After all, she was still young and she wanted to conserve her good hearing intact. And the neighbors may start complaining there’s a squeaky rabbit that won’t shut up.

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

 Back at the Jewelry store, where the sun’s rays were no longer illuminating the streets, and the moon was slowly making itself more present, a dark and imposing figure stood up at the other side of the street. The mysterious stranger, who was dressed in fancy clothing and covered his eyes with a white mask, hid in the shadows provided by the buildings. He was waiting for a chance to enter the store, which seemed to be closed, as the lights were off.

His intentions were obvious. What he was searching for were precious and shiny stones for him to take home, and he was willing to take them no matter who stood in his way. Although he was not here to start a fight, it was not outside the realm of possibilities. He'd just kindly take a few gems without the owner of the store's knowledge and no one would get harmed, simple, like always.

Little did he know, the vast majority of the articles being displayed this morning were no longer available, thanks to “Mrs. Abel’s”…Or rather, Morgana’s big sale.

The first part of her plan was a complete success. Now all the women and men who bought those precious objects were contaminated with dark energy, energy that Morgana herself placed inside all those fake stones that decorated the collars and rings, making them look shinier and more appealing to the human eye.

“Humans and their pitiful wants, they are so gullible.” She laughed.

Now all she had to do was call back the energy of her victims as they wore the jewels. She was using a special red glass container of a cylindrical shape to store all the human energy in it as it arrived. She placed it on the counter and activated it with a single move of her hand. The energy began to flow right from the houses of the victims and back at Morgana’s artifact.

Every person in the city wearing their recently bought jewelry at that moment, quickly began to feel weak, disoriented. Some even felt dizzy and had to go to the bathroom urgently, as the nausea was too much to handle.

“So much energy…Lord Jadeite will surely be pleased! Although…”

She began to look at her surroundings, several times.

“…The object he entrusted to me doesn't seem to be here. I will have to make one last quick inspection to the building before I-”

The door beside the counter, where Morgana was standing, started to open. A thin figure was standing under the door frame, letting the light of the other room get into the store.

“Mom? What are you doing?” Inés spoke in a gentle tone.

Morgana could’ve come up with an excuse, but she didn’t bother. She was done with her job, and she already knew what she had to do with intruders.

Inés kept going as she received no answer. “I thought you had closed the store already…?”

Morgana turned her face around, allowing the light coming from the other room to reach her. She let her teeth show off, growing into fangs, twisting her face slightly as she smiled; she had nothing else to hide from this kid.

Inés gasped loudly and stepped back, her eyes couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her mind began to rush, trying to find an explanation, was this an illusion? Is she dreaming?

Her body began to shake, begging for her to run upstairs, back to her room and lock herself there. She couldn’t respond to the signs on time, as Morgana stretched her limbs to an unhuman capacity and violently grabbed her arm, pulling her inside the store.

The door had been closed, and Inés had nowhere to go.

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

 Back at the Tsukino residence, Max was climbing the ladder to his room halfheartedly. He sat in the tiny stairs of his room for a moment, letting the small door close as the ladder came back to its original position. He then yawned and stretched as he walked to his bed.

When he left the house in the morning, he left his bed undone, but now it was fixed and he could only guess it was his mother, who may have entered the room during the day. The empty glass that he left over the nightstand was also gone, but the manga he was reading last night was still at the window.

 He left his briefcase over the white, small round table near the bed, and sighed. “Finally, she let me in! Geez, I don't know why she gets like that, she's so mean to me…”

”…I don’t wanna do my homework, I think I'll just take a small nap and then figure it out.”

 And following his last words, Max laid down in the warm bed comforter and closed his eyes, falling asleep in just a couple of minutes.

 The minutes kept passing as Max kept dreaming, and the wind began to blow against his window, making him shake slightly because of the noise; but it was not nearly enough to wake him up. If he had woken up at that moment, he probably would’ve noticed the small shadow in front of his window, standing still.

The wind somehow made its way into the room, unhooking the window lock, opening it slightly for a moment, before shutting down abruptly. Finally the lagomorph opened his eyes and sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes before looking at the window. Once his vision was getting clear, he saw a small, white and blurry figure, slowly taking shape into the curious rodent he encountered earlier today. And, once again, the creature was staring at him with its tiny eyes.

“What the…The rat with the bald spot? How did you get here?”

“Oh, Holy Lunar Trinity…” She said exasperated. “It is not a bald spot, okay? It’s a tattoo. Quite the rude assumption, child.”

Max blinked twice, his eyes fixed on the rodent. There’s no way he heard that, there’s no way those words came out of this tiny creature’s mouth. There is absolutely no way the rat just spoke to him like a tiny grandma scolding her grandchild. Rats don’t do that! …Right?

But, the rat kept going with what she had to say, and Max just couldn’t react to any of it.

 “Ahem! Anyways, my name is Luna, and I’ve been looking for you for quite a long time, Max. I’d also like to thank you for taking off the band aids from my forehead. Because of that obstruction, I wasn't able to speak, and it also affected my sensory skills. The kids of this neighborhood are so naughty!”

“Ahh…” Max seemed to wake up from his trance, nodding slightly. “I see now.”

“You do? I’m glad! It’s good to finally meet you, dear, I really don’t know what I would've done if I hadn't found you-”

“Good night.”

Luna was so wrapped up in her excitement that she didn't realize the moment Max was laying down in bed again, facing the opposite direction.

 “Eh? M-Max! What do you think you’re doing? Wake up, this is no time to rest!”

 But Max ignored Luna’s complaints entirely. She jumped to his bed and began shaking him as strongly as her tiny body allowed her, and it was not enough to even bother the Lagomorph. Maybe if I stay like this, she’ll go away. That was his plan, but Luna was not gonna stand there with her little arms closed.

 “Ah, I just remembered! I’ve also got a gift for you, Max dear.”

Max’s ears twitched, that was everything Luna needed. She stood back on her two hind legs and the mark on her forehead began to shine. She gave a high jump followed by a spin in the air. As she was doing this stunt, the mark on her forehead began to shine even brighter, until the light became a solid object that left sparkles around as it materialized.

Luna finally landed on the bed, and with one last spin in her place she stood on one leg (her other leg raising high), and caught the object with her right hand. She made each movement look elegant and so simple, her eyes were closed the entire time. But more interesting than her dance moves, Max was much more interested in the object Luna held between her tiny, pink hands.

 “Here, this is a special brooch, it’s magical.” She winked.

The brooch was made of pure gold and had a crescent moon symbol at the center, along a pink gem at the top. The contour of the brooch also had smaller gems: A blue one at the bottom, a red one at the top, a green one at the left and an orange one at the right.

“Wait, this is for me? You’re seriously giving it to me?” Max smiled.

“Of course!”

“WOAH!” Max took it with excitement and jumped out of the bed. “Thank you! It’s so shiny, I love shiny things! But, wait, how am I gonna…?”

“Max?” Luna waved her hand at him to call his attention.

“Ah! I’ve got it!” Max sat on his knees near the white table and began to open his briefcase quickly.

He started to throw everything inside the briefcase around the floor of his room, not caring where it would land or how, and stopped once he was able to take out what he was really looking for: His sailor uniform. He took it from the black bag where it was and tossed the bag away, quickly taking off his gakuran and putting on the other uniform; all of this while Luna was still trying to get Max’s attention.

“Max, please, you’ve got to listen to me! There’s been a lot of strange events happening all around the city of Tokyo, crimes that not even the police can figure out! And it is your duty to stop this chaos, Max, you’re our chosen Sailor Soldier!”

 Max was now fully dressed and wearing his new brooch, which he placed at the center of the bow in his blouse. He took a big mirror that was around the room and placed it carefully in front of him. Admiring his new accessory in the mirror, Luna took the chance to jump to the night stand to be in front of Max, trying to get the Lagomorph to look at her, and it seemed to work.

“And besides!” She proceeded. “You must find your allies as well, to find and protect our princess!”

“Aha, Aha, Aha. Sure! Anything else?”

“…You don’t believe a single word I told you, do you?”

“Oh no, no!” Max shook his head. “Sure I believe you!”

 Max was smiling and giggling, but Luna knew he wasn’t buying her story, he only cared about the pretty brooch. That was okay with her, as she was not going to give up just yet.

 “Okay, if that’s true, then repeat these words after me…Moon Prism Power, Make-Up!”

Max chuckled. “What?”

“You said you believed me.”

“I do! I promise!”

“Go ahead, then.”

 Max giggled one last time before taking a deep breath, frowning suddenly, forcing his cheeks not to smile again. Max did believe in Luna’s words, actually. The issue lied in the fact that he didn’t believe any of this was real. He had a rough day after all, so maybe, his mind was making up for it by creating a magical dream in which he’s a superhero. Someone wanted, someone needed! Someone useful and important! And he was going to enjoy this dream for as long as it lasted.

He put his hand in the air, pretending to stand in an epic pose, and shout the ‘magical phrase’ his ‘magical rat’ gave him.

“Moon Prism Power! Make-UP!”

 Max couldn't have possibly imagined what came next, as this energy bursted suddenly from his chest, it was a strong and powerful feeling surrounding his entire body, wrapping him in a cocoon of indescribable warmth. It was overwhelming, scary, yet exciting. It filled him with great joy and determination!

He closed his eyes, holding onto this feeling for as long as he could. But just as it came, the moment he opened his eyes, the feeling was completely gone. All that was left was him, standing in front of the big mirror, and Luna, who seemed quite happy for some reason.

He stared at Luna in confusion as to what just happened, before taking a look at himself in the mirror. There was something… different, Max had to take a moment to realize it, his chest bow seemed to have changed its color, he was wearing earrings too. And, did his skirt just… shrink?

No, that wasn’t quite it, this was an entire different outfit. What Max was wearing was a white leotard with a chest protector over it, and a blue collar with two white stripes. He also had white shoulder pads, gloves, and a blue skirt, along with a big red-ish pink bow at the center of his chest and his back, a choker and a pair of red boots of the same color, with a white border at the top.

His boots had golden crescent moon ornaments, just like his earrings and his choker. And the crown of it all was his tiara, which has special ornaments and a dark pink gem at the center.

What the hell was all this?

 “So, how’s that for a proof?” Luna spoke. “Do you understand what I’m saying now?”

 Max took a good look at his new clothes, feeling the texture of his gloves and admiring how his new jewelry shined. He felt an unusual comfort, even more than earlier today when he wore his other uniform, this suit just felt…Right.

 He giggled. “Look at me! I look like a superhero!”

“Max!”

“Aw, don’t worry Luna, I said I believed you!”

“That’s good, but I’m afraid you’re still not taking me seriously! Just-- Quit spinning around, please, and listen!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure!” Max waved his hand in a condescending manner. “So, what else do I need to know-?”

Suddenly, at that moment, the gem in his tiara began to project an intense shine. Max’s ears began to twitch as they captured a sound, it was muffed, but Max made an effort to pay closer attention, until the sound began surrounding him. It was a voice, a plea, and it didn't take long for him to recognize the person making it. It was his friend Inés.

  Max was surrounded in this aura of danger and malice, but he was the only one who could perceive it. All that Luna saw was how the teen was completely ignoring her instructions, and she was getting tired of this treatment. “Max, can you hear me?”

“Inés? But how…?”

“MAX!”

“AH!”

Max pressed his hand against his chest, the threatening aura had finally disappeared. “Ah, Luna, you startled me!”

“Startled you?”

 She started connecting the dots in her head.

 “You heard a cry of help, didn’t you?”

“‘Cry of help’…Yeah, you could say that.”

“Tell me, what did you hear?”

“Umm, well…” Max rested his left hand on his waist, rubbing his chin with one finger of his right hand. “I think I heard Inés screaming! She said something about her mom, but I couldn't hear the rest.”

Luna stood up in the nightstand. “Inés is the girl that owns a Jewelry store, right? Perhaps the store is being robbed. Max, now that you've transformed into a Sailor Soldier, you must go and help her!”

“…Eh?”

Luna pointed a finger at Max, accentuating his importance at this moment in time. “Consider this your first training session. Now go there and save Inés! Go, Sailor Moon!”

 ‘Sailor Moon’, was that supposed to be his ‘hero’ name? Well, it certainly had a nice ring to it.

Wait, but that would imply he would actually have to fight people, hand to hand combat. Well, maybe he could bite them in the arm and they would eventually give up!

But wait! Most thieves are armed, right? And they’re very dangerous by nature! And Max could barely remember the last time he had a fight, he must’ve been as tall as a chair back then!

…Actually, he hasn’t grown all that much since then, he still had issues sitting in chairs that were not made specifically for small creatures like him.

 “Wait, me?” Max made a gesture pointing at his own face. “You’re talking about me? Shouldn’t we, uh… Call the police for this kind of thing?”

“Forget the police! Now, let’s go save your friend!”

  Luna immediately ran to the window and proceeded to carefully walk on the house’s roof, climbing down a pipe to get to the ground. Max, who was sitting on his bed near the window, looked at her quite displeased.

  “Hey, hold on! Where are you going? You don’t expect me to jump from here now, do ya?”

“You’re a bunny, your species is agile. I'm sure you can handle a jump to the balcony on the lower floor”

“B-BUNNY? I am NOT…!” Max stopped his incoming rant, as he saw Luna climbing down the pipe with the least bit of interest in what he had to say.

 “Oh, I’ll show you…’Bunny’!”

 He carefully sat on the window as he kept mumbling under his breath. He was so angry at Luna that he almost forgot how dangerous the act he was doing truly was, which could be considered an advantage, as he did not hesitate when falling down from the window of his room to the balcony of the second floor. Once he realized he had landed without a single bruise, the next jump didn’t seem so scary, and proceeded to hold onto the other side of the wooden railing to do his second jump. “What a strange dream this is!” He thought, but this small act of bravery began to fill him with security, with a twist of excitement as to what dangers he’d find in the jewelry store.

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

  “No! Stop! Get away from me!”

Morgana laughed, slowly approaching the defenseless girl. As she walked, her body kept changing, almost deteriorating.

As the color of her skin was fading and her limbs began to extend in an unnatural manner, Inés kept clinging onto the piece of furniture she had cornered herself against, trying to look away from her. This creature, this… Monster. Was clearly not her mother, but her resemblance was still there, and she could not bear to see it rot in front of her.

“What’s wrong, darling? Are you afraid of seeing your own mother's face?”

“How dare you!” Inés was now in tears. She shut her eyes and confronted Morgana to the best of her ability. “What did you do to my mother? Where did you take her?!”

 Morgana violently stretched her arms directly towards the girl’s neck. She began to squeeze it little by litte, lifting her from the ground, as Inés struggled to break free.

 “Do you want to know what happened to your mommy? Do you want me to tell you what I really did to her?”

 The fear in Inés' eyes only fed Morgana’s cruelty even further. The teen kept struggling against her grasp, kicking her feet in the air, using all of the force in her body to push the monster away. But that force was fading, as Morgana continued to squeeze every bit of breath from her body

 “D’aww. Don’t you worry, little one. Soon, you and your mother will be together forever!”

  Morgana let out a strong, heartfelt laugh. Knowing she had successfully completed most of her task, and that no one could possibly stop her at this point.

 “STOP RIGHT THERE! You ugly WITCH!”

 Morgana freezes, letting go of Inés’ neck just for a second, enough for her to simply pass out from the exhaustion and dizziness. But not before her eyes managed to capture a single, small shadow, standing under the door of the jewelry store.

 Morgana stood still, only turning around her neck. She bitterly replied to the stranger. “Who is this? Who are you?!”

 “Aha! Excellent question. My name is…!”

 “…Hey, Luna. Who am I again?”

 Luna gave a harsh sigh. “You are Sailor Moon, the soldier of Love and Justice!”

 “AHA! Yes, I am…What she just said! And I’ve come here to kick your butt!”

 Max kept showing a confident smile on his face, which only further reflected his complete ignorance of what was at stake right now, and who was at the hands of Morgana right now. But Luna didn’t seem to notice the peculiarity of these actions. All she saw was Max’s cocky attitude taking over him, and decided to let it pass. It was better for him to be confident than afraid.

Morgana then responded with a loud, wicked laugh. Dropping the unconscious girl to the ground.

 “Sailor Moon?” She emphasized in a burlesque tone. “I've never heard of such a RIDICULOUS name ever before!”

Morgana stretched her hand back to the counter, grabbing the red artifact where she had stored all the human energy. She held it up, shouting. “Rise up, SLAVES! Come and serve the purpose of our dark mistress!”

 “Gee-eez!” Max held his ears down. “Keep it down, old lady! Are you trying to wake up the entire city?”

“Precisely.”

“…Huh?”

 There was a moment of silence inside the building.

Max then began to hear a particular sound, getting louder, closer. Until finally, he was able to recognize it. Steps. Many, Many steps behind him…

 “Wh- …HAAH?! WHAT ARE ALL THESE LADIES DOING HERE?!”

 Max turns around to discover a crowd of women standing right outside the jewelry store, all of which were wearing expensive jewelry accessories in different parts of their bodies. Their eyes were lost, as if a part of them was not even there at all. Max began to take a few steps back.

 “Now, slaves! Get rid of him!”

 “No. Wait, wait, wait. Timeout! TIMEOUT!”

 Max moved his feet and began to run as the crowd entered the building. They chased after him through every corner of the room, meanwhile Max clumsy, but effectively avoided the women’s grasps. He ran, crouched and jumped over every obstacle, not caring if he broke a piece of glass from one of the empty display cases.

“Luna! What am I supposed to do?”

“Stay still and calm down! Just give them a good punch!”

“WHAT? No WAY! I’m not gonna hit a buncha old ladies, one of them could be as old as my mom!”

“You have to defend yourself, Sailor Moon. Fight! Then your tiara, and…!”

Unexpectedly for Luna, one of the possessed women among the crowd had the clever idea of breaking one of those display cases, getting a fairly sized piece of broken glass in her hands.

She began to chase the Lagomorph with great speed, Max was barely able to escape her deadly hand swings. But once he managed to run past her, his feet tangled against one another, making him instantly fall in the pieces of shattered glass that were scattered on the ground.

He quickly gathered his composure and ran towards one of the pillars in the room, falling near it in the process. He leaned against it, using it as a support to stand up, but one of his feet had slipped and made his behind fall back on the floor.

 “I…I can’t…” He gasped. “I can’t keep up…Why…?”

 Then, the revelation laid right in front of his very eyes. A small, burning and fresh cut on one of his knees, which opened his eyes to all the small bruises he had accumulated on both of his knees.

But that couldn’t be possible, no. No way…

 Luna then appeared behind the pillar, whispering. “What are you doing, Sailor Moon? Stand up! You have to fight!”

 But Max, surprisingly, had nothing to respond.

 “Sailor Moon! They’re coming to get you, quickly!”

 The crowd was slowly surrounding the lagomorph. But he could only stare at his wounds. He mumbled something under his breath, something about his bruises.

 “Sailor Moon?”

 “…This isn’t a dream.”

 Max had finally managed to lift up his view and look around him, but it was far too late. The group of women had him trapped against the pillar. Max managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of legs, laying on the ground far away, before the group got in the way of his vision. He felt the air escaping from him, those clothes, could they have been Inés’s?

Was she…?

 “Look out, MAX!”

 Max was shook away from his thoughts by Luna.

Morgana, raising behind the crowd, began to stretch her limbs and reach out for Max from the other side of the room. Max could see the wrinkled hand getting closer, he could almost feel her long and red claws stabbing his neck. But it didn’t matter how much Luna, or himself, begged for his body to move; Max had been frozen in place.

 But then… A scream of pure pain came from Morgana. She had to stop her hand and return it to its place. A clear and burning cut on the back of her hand, but how? What could’ve possibly been the cause?

 “Who did this? Who are you?! SHOW YOURSELF!”

 The group of women began to stand back in confusion, allowing Morgana to see the other side of the room. Her victim was still in the exact same spot, still paralyzed, but his gaze was focused somewhere else. Following his gaze, Morgana found the perpetrator of her wound embedded in the floor.

A single Red Rose.

 And suddenly. BANG! BANG! BANG!

One shot right after the other, more Roses of red and white colors began to stab the floor. A column of Roses was formed, and before anyone in the room could breathe, an explosion surrounded the women. They had no choice but to run back to Morgana, as a thick smoke screen began to fill the room.

 “S-Sailor Moon!” Luna covered her mouth with one hand and squeezed her nose with the other, containing her coughs the best she could. She called out to her pupil, but he was no longer there.

Max had his eyes shut tightly, unknowing of the fuss that was going on. He felt a strange, but comforting warmth surrounding him, making him hold tightly onto it.

It was then he heard a particular melody, a short ballad being whistled in a soothing manner. He opened his eyes with slight fear, looking for the source of the melody.

A tall, masculine figure covered in black, and a white mask covering his eyes. He was holding Max firmly with only one of his arms, using the other to spin his cane in the air and dispel the smoke that came from the floor below. The fabric of the clothing was something Max had never seen before, it was smooth and sparkling. But what concerned him most, was how familiar this was, how familiar the stranger’s shape really was…

 Morgana, along with her mind controlled slaves, were immediately drawn by the movement at the second floor. As the smoke began to fade, the unwanted stranger’s shape became clearer to them.

“Show yourself, coward! How dare you hurt ME, Morgana! Faithful servant of Lord Jadeite!”

 The stranger then spoke directly to the crowd.

 “To harm innocent lives is simply an act of cowardice, no matter the reasons, and I am not one to stand such vile acts. Whoever you are, I will make sure to put you back to the hellish hole you came out of!”

“Such insolence…!” Morgana hissed. “SLAVES! Teach this fool a lesson!”

 The group under Morgana’s control went directly to the door behind the counter, but were unable to reach it in time. A single shot echoed inside the store, and just like that, a red rose had been put in their way, making them run to the other direction before it inevitably exploded.

 Max stared at the gun in awe. It was a gorgeous weapon of a pure white color, with a flower pattern all over the frame, and small vines drawn at the top of the barrel. He had never seen anything like it.

 The stranger in black put down the lagomorph, walking towards the balcony as he re-loaded his gun. Max’s jaw almost dropped when he realized he was using rose seeds. He at least expected a fully bloomed rose, as that would’ve made much more sense in his head. Regardless, how could that even be possible? Was he really, truly awake?

 “So, lil’ pal. Any ideas on how to get rid of the ol’ witch down there?”

“Huh?” Max blinked twice. “Ah- Yeah! I mean, I-I’m here for that! …I think?”

 A couple of shots echoed in the room. Followed by the screams of distress of the group of women running in circles.

 “Perfect. Then I’m counting on ya to take her down.”

“And what are you gonna do, uhhh…” Max took a second to get his thoughts together. “...‘Mister’?”

 The stranger pushed his large cape aside, revealing a device of a small grappling hook on his belt. He shot the grappling hook towards the giant chandelier, tensioning the cable to make sure it was secure.

 “I'll be the distracting factor.”

 And just like that, the stranger jumped from the balcony right into action. Using his weight, he rocked around the room in a circle. The women would run from one direction to the other, desperately avoiding the red roses the stranger in black would shoot.

It was a sight of chaos, a black smoke began to cover the first floor as more roses kept exploding, marks of dust were all over the floor and the walls; and the women ran desperate like chickens. Morgana, being unable to instruct them properly, started to lose her patience. She tried to reach out the stranger with her other hand, which only resulted in yet another injury on the back of her hand.

Max was having the time of his life watching everything unfold from the second floor, but what fascinated him most, was the stranger.

Max wasn’t sure if this man was probably used to this environment. Maybe he had seen many other ugly monsters that possess humans for their evil schemes, it had to be that. Otherwise, how could he be so confident in his actions?

He swayed around, from left to right, every shot landing exactly where it needed to. And despite the havoc he was causing, not a single rose managed to hurt the ladies.

The stranger was in his playground, the smile on his face could not be hidden behind that mask.

And something about that fact brought butterflies to Max’s stomach…A sight only for him to admire, only for him to remember. No one but him. That brought a big, goofy smile to his face.

 “SAILOR MOOON!”

 Max screeched. As if he had just been caught doing something dirty.

 “L-Luna! I-I wasn’t…!”

“I’ve been calling you out three times now! I swear, you’re living up in the clouds.”

“Hey! That’s-”

“Ah-Ah!” Luna exclaimed, putting her paw right in front of Max’s face as a gesture to silence him. “Now listen to me! While that guy down there is messing around with the mob, you need to sneak behind Morgana and finish her off.”

“Ah-Ha. Yeah. And how exactly am I gonna do that?!”

“You’re right, I did not mention this before, I’m sorry.”

“You should be! I could’ve been killed down there-!“

“Please, pay close attention!” Luna now had both paws over Max’s mouth. “The tiara you’re wearing isn’t a mere piece of jewelry, it’s a weapon. You need to call it by shouting ‘Moon Tiara…’”

 Another couple of explosions were heard from the down floor, slightly shaking the second floor.

 “…And then throw it at the enemy!”

“Uhm-Hum. Und whot iff I fail?”

“You won’t! The tiara will never fail you. Now get down there and show that old hag who’s boss!”

 Luna then put her hands away from Max’s mouth and jumped to his shoulder, as he carefully got on top of the balcony. He tried not to look down, feeling his legs shaking slightly by the mere thought of it. Sure, he had previously jumped from a high place and landed safely, but that was before he discovered it was all real. That confidence he had built up before was now completely gone.

 “Are you sure I’m not just gonna. Y’know. Die?”

“Just relax, you’re a Sailor Soldier. Hard as a rock!”

 And just before Max could give his last protest, Luna used her own weight to push Max down, forcing him to Jump.

 While the stranger kept terrorizing the ladies, Morgana kept screaming at the top of her lungs for one of them to PLEASE do something about the intruders. Meanwhile, Max had landed on the ground safely, and was getting ready to summon his attack.

 He reached out to the tiara, and the red gem at the center began to shine with intensity. Once he removed the tiara from his head, the piece had transformed into a disc shape with a sharpened outer edge. It was shining bright as a star, Max could feel the warmth coming from the object.

He knew what he had to do.

 He held the weapon tight, took air into his lungs, and shouted...

 “MOON TIARA… CHAKRAM!”

 And WOOSH! He threw the weapon with all of the strength in his arm.

The tiara flew at great speed across the room, past Morgana. And she turned around to see where that breeze had come from.

 “…It’s you!” Morgana wrinkled her nose and began to stretch her limbs again, making her taller, and taller... “You, little pest! I’m gonna make you pay for what you’ve done…!”

 But then…

  SLASH!

 The Tiara had returned, slicing Morgana’s neck side to side! Her head coming off of her body, and one last expression of pure disbelief plastered all over her face. Her body almost immediately dropped the red artifact, shattering into tiny pieces the moment it reached the ground, and all the stolen energy began returning to their rightful owners.

The giant and beheaded corpse began to highlight a shine coming from the neck, running all across the body. And just like that, Morgana was gone with a bang.

 Max stood still for a couple of seconds. He then slowly lifted his head from behind the display case he was hiding at.

“Is it over…?”

Luna came out and began to search for any sight of Morgana, only finding a pile of powdered clay in the middle of the room, alongside the shards of the container of human energy. Meanwhile, the women that had been previously brainwashed, were now laying down on the floor unconscious.

 “I think so. Good job, Sailor Moon!”

 Max let out a deep sigh, but the night was not over yet.

Both Luna and Max turned around the moment they heard a heartfelt laugh coming from the second floor, at the other side of the room. It was the stranger in black.

 “Good job, lil’ buddy. We got rid of that monster just in time!”

Max got out of his hiding place, fixing his skirt in a quick manner. “Ah, yeah! Th-Thank you for your help!”

The man chuckled. “No, thank you. This night would not have been nearly as entertaining without you.”

 A warm, intense feeling began burning Max’s cheeks. Which he quickly dismissed. “Ahaha! Oh, well. You know! That’s my job.”

“Oh?” The stranger fixed his mask in a playful manner. “Am I in the presence of a hero?”

“That’s right! My name is Sailor Moon, and don’t you dare forget it!”

“I would never.” He smiled.

 The stranger then searched inside his jacket. “Here, a hero deserves a reward!”

 He threw an object at Max, who, miraculously, managed to catch it in the air. He kept the object inside his hands for a moment, trying to take a guess before opening up the surprise. The object was small, but heavy and with sharp edges.

 “Eh…?”

 Max opened his hands. The object was a white gemstone, sparkling many other colors in the palm of his hands. It was gorgeous, certainly pretty expensive, but where did he…?

…Oh.

 “Hold it…DID YOU STEAL THIS JUST NOW?”

The stranger laughed once again, and said his goodbyes before jumping outside the window, leaving the store for good.

 “W-WAIT!”

 Max ran outside the store. Luna chased after her pupil.

“STOP RIGHT THERE, YOU THIEF! YOU CAN’T JUST…!”

 Max felt the time freezing, just for a moment. He saw the stranger do many impossible things tonight, but this might be the one that takes the cake.

After the stranger had jumped from the window of the second floor, he managed to land at the top of a light pole in the street. Not a single scratch was done to the material, and not a single sight of hesitation was visible from the man. With a single foot, he firmly jumped again from the light pole. Now floating high in the sky, light as a feather, with all the city streets shining below him.

How…How was he capable of such wonders? No creature on earth should be capable of these acts. And yet, in front of his very eyes, there he was defying everything Max took for a fact.

The stranger looked down to the lagomorph one last time.

 “Remember me as well. My name is Tuxedo Mask. We’ll meet again, Sailor Moon…”

 Max was left in a trance, unable to look away from the man. Many thoughts rushed through his mind, and not a single one connected with the other. And just like that, by the mere blink of an eye, the stranger was gone. Max was only left with a single piece to remember the encounter, which he held tightly to his chest, as if desperate to cling onto something that was real. Something that could tell him this was, indeed, not a dream.

 “Sailor Moon! Let’s move!” Luna appeared right behind him.

“Huh…?” It took a moment, but Max was finally set free from his thoughts. “Ah, right! Yeah! But, what about the store-?”

“-Inés!” Max started to panic. “She’s still inside! I have to check on her!”

“Calm down, calm down!” Luna got in his way before he tried to enter the store again. “She’s perfectly fine, if only unconscious like everyone else!”

“But…!”

 Both Luna and Max twitched their ears, as they felt something approaching at great speed, but still quite far away. A bunch of loud sounds coming from many cars in movement.

 “The police. Just in time.” Luna snickered. “We have to leave now, or else we’re gonna be here all night!”

 Max found himself in a small dilemma. He knew what would happen if the cops found him in the middle of the crime scene, and would probably not believe him if he told them a giant monster that looks like a witch came in and caused all of this mess.

As the sirens began to sound louder and clearer, he realized he couldn’t ignore his decision any longer. Leaving Inés alone, as bad as it felt, was the only thing he could do.

 “…Damn it.”

 And so, Max and Luna made a run for it.

 The police arrived almost immediately after the duo’s escape, with an ambulance. And from one of the cars, a tall and distinguished man was the first to come out and enter the building.

The first thing the police noticed was the amount of bodies all over the floor. They were immediately checked upon and assisted by the paramedics. The distinguished man then commanded his team to search around the area, as he walked around the room digging for some clues himself.

Very deep inside the room, far away from everything, the man found a small white rose still embedded in the floor. Its petals were closed, it seemed like it had not bloomed yet. He got on his knees to take a closer look…

 “Inspector Kamino! Don’t!”

 One of the police men tried to warm him, but it was too late, the rose opened its petals and blew up on the Inspector’s face. He was not injured, but instead received all of the thick, white smoke the rose released.

 The inspector stood up and covered his mouth and nose with his forearm. “What the hell is this?!”

 “It’s another one of Tuxedo Mask’s toys, sir! It’s brand new.”

 “Goddamn it! Fell for it immediately.” He coughed.

 “There’s also marks of small explosions all over the walls and the floor. There’s no doubt he was here.”

 “Hmm…” The inspector scratched his chin, making a loud sound as his fingernails scratched his beard. “He was definitely here, but…He’s not one to make such a mess. He’s usually a lot more, y’know, subtle.”

 “Do you think someone else was involved?”

 “Possibly, it does look like a war zone here. Keep searching, we’ll interrogate the victims later.”

 “Inspector Kamino!” Another policeman came in. “We found a woman in the store’s basement! She’s still conscious, but needs help immediately.”

 The inspector ordered to bring more paramedics before running back with the second police man back to the basement, hoping to get a bit of info from the woman before she was taken away. He needed to know just what happened to this place, and who exactly was behind all of this.

  ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

  Meanwhile, back at the cold, desolated castle. The tall, anthropomorphic dog known as Jadeite, had been carefully watching the events of that night from a purple crystal ball. From the moment that ‘Sailor Moon’ arrived, to the moment where his clay doll had been beheaded in cold blood. A shame, really. Morgana was one of his favorites, always did her job, until now. She had grown overly confident, and she let two intruders ruin their plans. Only a fool could’ve made such a mistake.

Because of this mistake, they just lost a great amount of human energy, and that meant their plans would be horribly delayed. Jadeite was furious, truly. But he would not allow this inconvenience to get the better of him.

 “Such a waste of good clay, that was…” Said Jadeite in a cold tone. His blue eyes fixed on the Crystal Ball. The images had stopped to a certain moment where Sailor Moon’s face was the most visible.

“Sailor Moon…I’ll remember your name. And I’ll make sure the next doll takes special care of you next time.”

 The light of the Crystal Ball began to blink, little by little losing its power. Until finally its light faded, leaving Jadeite alone, surrounded by darkness…

 ══════════════════*.•:•.☽✧   ✦ ✧☾.•:•.*══════════════════

 The next morning, Max attended school like usual. Except this time, little ol’ Luna decided to accompany him. It was a shocker finding her inside the school grounds, but luckily, it seemed no teachers had noticed her presence so far.

During recess, Max was walking around the corridors of the school, searching for his friends, when he stopped at a corner to see a big surprise. His friend, Inés, was safe and sound! She was talking to her group of friends like usual, seemingly excited about the subject of the conversation.

Max had not seen Inés in the first hours of class that morning, so he had assumed she was going to stay home that day. But of course, someone as remarkable as her wouldn't let this situation stop her from fulfilling her duty as a young citizen. Inés wasn’t exactly a nerd, unlike Lorne, but she was committed. Something Max genuinely admired about her.

However, as much as he wished to, Max couldn’t bring himself to talk to his friend. He still felt quite guilty for having to leave her behind, and did not know how to act casual about everything that happened last night. What if Inés started to suspect him? How could he possibly explain something not even he understands? He began to hold his skirt tightly, trying to control his nerves.

Instead, both he and Luna decided to eavesdrop on the group of teens.

 “And then! Then she- grabbed me by the neck! And started to squeeze me, harder and harder!” Inés made a gesture with her hands near her neck. She then showed her classmates the remaining marks she had on her neck from last night, to prove it was real.

 Her friends gasped at the horrific tale. “How did you manage to escape?!” Amano asked with a certain corner in her tone.

“I’m not sure.” Said Inés. “I think…There was someone else there.”

“Someone else? Like who?” asked Suri.

“I didn’t see them clearly, but…”

“Uh-hu?” said everyone.

“…I think it was a hero. Before I passed out, I heard them say ‘stop right there, ugly witch!’.” Inés made a voice she considered cool to imitate her hero. “And then they said something about being a Sailor.”

“Sailor? Like Sailor V?!” Lorne jumped immediately into the convo.

 “Sailor V.” Max chuckled in a derogatory manner. “She wasn’t even near the area!”

“Shh!” Said Luna, trying to listen to the kid’s conversation further.

 “No…” Inés continued. “This one was nothing like Sailor V. I don’t know who they were, or how they look. But they saved me and my mother’s life. I can never repay that.”

 Those words made Max show a smile from cheek to cheek. It was all he needed to hear, that his actions had caused a good outcome, that he had finally done something right for someone! He stopped listening to the conversation and rested against the wall, letting out a rewarding sigh.

 “Well, at least we know she’s not gonna be an issue.” Said Luna.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I was worried she might have caught you, of course! You need to be careful with your identity, Max. If someone else found out you’re a Sailor Soldier…”

“Well, I’m sure Morgana appreciated you telling her my real name before I cut her head off.” Max replied sarcastically.

Luna started to babble for a second. “W-w-well! It was a matter of life and death! Y-you weren’t moving, and I was…!”

 Luna stared at the lagomorph with a certain shame in her eyes. She then sighed.

 “I’m so sorry I put you through all of that, Max. I assumed the moment you transformed, your will as a Sailor would wake up with you! But that was careless of me, and I should’ve explained to you how to fight before sending you there. I’m deeply sorry, child.”

“Geez…” Max chuckled. “Don't get all mushy on me now, grandma! It’s okay, I forgive you.”

“You’re sure!”

“Of course!” Max gave her a big smile. “Besides, had we not gone there, who knows what would’ve happened to all those victims…!”

 Max twitched his left ear. Seemingly freezing in his place.

Luna stared at the kid with concern, until she started to hear it too.

Loud footsteps began approaching the duo, the kind of footsteps only a tall creature could make. Max looked towards the direction they were coming, and his heart dropped the very second he laid eyes on that person. With his brown, brushed fur, his long, fluffy ears, and a sparkling clean Gakuran.

It was him, the man he saw the other day outside the jewelry store. But, he was actually a student? Oh, how stupid Max must’ve looked calling him a “Sir”.

But that wasn’t all that was in his mind.

As the anthro dog walked in front of him, Max gave him a second, much careful look. And even after the guy had already walked past him, Max continued to stare at him. From the back of his head, to his shoulders, the size of his arms, all of his shape spoke to him…

After all this time. All these years. Could it be? Could it really be him…?

 “…Sam.” He whispered.

Notes: 

"Cabro" o "Cabrito": Is a word used in Chile to refer to a young boy. But the literal spanish to english translation would be "goat".

Bento: a Japanese-style packed lunch, consisting of items such as rice, vegetables, and sashimi.

Tamagoyaki: A sweet rolled Japanese omelette.

Gakuran: Classic Japanese Male uniform.

[kickingupdust]

Virtual Diary Entry #14

Oct 12, 2022. 

Today is the anniversary of my best friend’s death. Today was not as hard as the first one. Definitely not as hard as the day she left. It’s easier to deal with when I think of all of the hatred and anguish of the material world and know that she did not deserve to be subject to any more of it. She is genuinely better off where she is. Grief rises from a place of selfishness, self-servitude. Desire. The desire for one more chance, one more opportunity to set things right, one more look into their eyes, one more laugh, one more awkward silence, another note of her voice. 

I do still wish she was here, I do battle the selfishness that comes with loss. With each passing year, with each butterfly that lands on me at an opportune moment, I feel less desire for her return. However, I love her. I always did and I always will. And losing her love is one of the biggest plights I will face in this lifetime. 

That’s enough about that. The more I think about it, the worse it gets. That’s why it has become easier over time, because I just deny any passage to the thoughts. I think that is really the only way. 

Oct 13, 2022

I’m so sorry that you have to have a body. One that doesn’t know what’s best for it. One you try to trust, but no matter what, you just can’t know it well enough. Cannot tend its needs well enough. I wish for nothing more than to unite the head and the heart. 

I wish I could show myself the love I so desperately crave. But, I want it from someone else. I want it to be materialized. Hugs and kisses. I cannot give myself those things. Surprises, flowers on the counter when I get home. Little things. Remembering my coffee order.

I wish someone wanted me. I’m normally just kept around for what I can offer, not because someone actually loves or cares for me. But I’ve got an angry heart. 

I know I can never be loved at this rate. I am not a courageous person. Determined, maybe. But what it really takes is courage. 

I think I am still missing my late friend. I think about how different I felt then. I won’t pay it too much mind though, that is just asking to be sad. 

I’m not even really sure what to talk about. Type about? 

I feel really annoying. Like I’m a sore on a beautiful woman’s face. 

That doesn’t even make much sense. I just feel really undesirable. Like a loser. I feel unworthy of love but at the same time I know I am wonderful and could offer the best love a person has ever recieved. I’m just crazy. 

Maybe it’s better to be alone. So I don’t have to put anyone through this. Or keep putting myself through it. 

I just wish for so much. I know the good will come to me someday. I have tried acting in the best interest of all, not just me. I’m working on that though. I am still extremely selfish and self serving. I have emotional reactions to things. I don’t always tend the things I need to be tending. 

I am really sick of feeling this way. I sometimes wonder what it’d be like to just be someone else for a day. I often wish I could have a little break where I did just that. 

When I was younger I had this grand scheme to just buy a bus ticket and get the fuck. I realized after numerous haircuts and eyebrow shapes that I have a very moldable face, one that is easily disguised. I wanted to run away and change my identity. Maybe be homeless. Maybe walk to another country. Chris McCandless style. 

I probably would’ve ended up on heroin, assaulted, and dead. 

I always thought it was probably better for me in the long run that I got pregnant as a teenager. It kept me from doing alot of stupid shit. Not all stupid shit, because I still do stupid shit. Just not as stupid as I was. Like dropping acid under a train bridge. I mean that was a pretty cool experience but it was not a smart thing to do. 

The dumbest thing I do these days is look for love. It exists within me and all around me, yet I still seek it as if my life is completely devoid of it. I just miss having someone to love I guess. I don’t really even know what it is. The people I have loved and do love have a really hard time accepting love from me due to my volatile nature. Its entirely my fault. Written in the stars that I would struggle and be difficult to others. I know I deserve good things as much as the next person, it’s just hard to feel like I do. Deep down I don’t think I do. But on the surface I affirm to myself that plenty of bad people have experienced so much good, and it makes me jealous, and it makes me say I deserve it all the same as them. That doesn’t make sense, does it. 

Doesn’t matter. Nothing really does. I could keep being an idiot in love forever if I wanted. And in general. I just need to focus on my career. I know that won’t bring me much happiness but it’ll be a step toward having my own place and I know that would make me happy. Getting to exert full control over an environment, I know it’d serve my control freak ass well. 

I wish I was carefree. 

FUCK?

Stop wishing for shit, dude. I need to be happy with what I have, I have so much. I have so much more than I could’ve ever gained on my own, and it’s all been with the help of others. What happened to graciousness, my man? 

I stopped biting my nails. I’m really grateful for that. I’ve gotten better at painting my nails. Me and my sister are great friends. I cut off and blocked all my ex’s. I have a nice shiny laptop to use for school next semester. I got granted money to go to school. I have a place to live. I have groceries in the house, plenty of food. I have clean water for drinking and showering. I have 2 really cute dogs. I have an awesome son, he’s a hellcat but I know he’ll be great one day. He’s already great, I just mean I see him capable of doing great things. He is so smart. 

I have a bunch of colorful pens, all the art supplies a starving artist could want. I have friends. I have both my parents still. I have one set of grandparents left. I have a TV in my room. I have a spotify subscription that comes with Hulu. I’m surrounded by beautiful scenery every day. Butterflies, trees, gentle wind and good weather. I have plenty to be grateful for and somehow I still dwell on the one thing I don’t have, a partner. 

Give it up. From now on I need to come and type all the reasons why I’m fine the way I am. And how being with someone won’t make anything any better. About how I make myself miserable instead of just accepting my beautiful life for what it is and being okay with it. 

Realistically I know I won’t do that but it’s a nice thought. I can’t wait to go back to school and try half as hard as I’m capable of. I’m ready to ditch the perfectionist tendencies.

[usaginotwst]

the entire angst category for the emoji ask but for ... 👀 jamil and azul

oh hey now!! 👀👀👀

pain train incoming

💔— What could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

🚪— What would kill their trust in their partner/close them off? Could this ever be amended?

(these two go together in my opinion)

If Azul got the courage up to show his partner his cecaelia form and they reacted negatively, he would be heartbroken. There's a reason he still hates the way he looks and he thought that they were going to be accepting. Maybe they just aren't the one...

If Jamil's significant other confessed that they actually had feelings for Kalim instead it would cause irreparable damage to his heart. If it had been anyone else it would have stung, but to hear Kalim's name come out of their mouth was just solid proof that he would never get out from underneath that idiot's shadow.

🥀— How well would they handle a break up?

I think that Azul would compartmentalize things and take it relatively well, actually. He would handle it like a business deal, asking you where he went wrong in a way that made it sound like he was asking for his year-end review. Once you part ways he continues on like nothing happened for a couple days. However, there's only so long a person can go without feeling their feelings, and only so much room for work before you reach a breaking point. He will sob at his desk when he reaches this point and then misses class for a week before the twins drag him out.

Jamil would also compartmentalize and focus on work to distract himself, however I think that he would deny the breakup at first, not understanding what you're talking about. How could he be getting broken up with? You were in love, or so he thought. He was only a teen, but Jamil's mind had created scenarios of married life with you, far away from the Al-Asims and The Land of The Hot Sands entirely. You were his escape, his life, his love. He might get indignant about the whole thing, refusing to understand what you're talking about.

But when it finally hits him, he shuts down. He doesn't speak to anyone, but continues on like normal. He pretends you never existed. It was easier this way, easier to move on, he told himself. But the worried looks Kalim and the basketball club gave him in passing made him think twice. It wasn't until he looked at his reflection, gaunt and lifeless, that he realizes that he needs to take time for himself and process things.

⛈— How often do they get emotional? Are they open with their partner about it?

☔️— What are they like when they’re emotional? How quickly do they recover?

(i'm covering these guys together!!)

Once Azul trusts you completely he'll be more forthcoming with his emotions, though it took ages for you to get past his posturing showman's exterior. It's difficult to allow yourself to be emotional when your genuine distress was dismissed as you being dramatic or a crybaby during childhood, so when you finally seen his tears, it's a breaking point of emotional exhaustion. You see, despite no one at NRC doubting his power and reach, Azul works tirelessly to prove himself. Though it seems he's trying his hardest to live up to some unattainable standard he's set for himself rather than proving himself to others.

This kind of stress can lead to him leaning on your shoulder in private, sighing deeply before he finds himself soaking your shoulder with his tears. Never again will he allow others to tease him about being a crybaby so you're the only one that can see him like this.

I feel like Azul also has the potential to be a sap when he's down bad for someone, so if you kiss him in intimate places like his pulse points, he melts. His eyes soften, his brows knit together, and if you look close enough, you can see his bottom lip tremble slightly as the feelings of love become a bit too much for him to process.

Once he's had his cry and the worst is over, he sighs and then falls asleep for a good nap. Once he wakes up, it's like nothing ever happened.

Jamil is a different story. From a young age, Jamil realized that whatever he felt didn't really matter because his needs would always come second to Kalim. He wasn't a slave, but with the way his family operated and idolizes the Al-Asims, Jamil was placed in a position much lower than others in matters of importance. So for all intents and purposes, Jamil shut off his emotions. He became reserved and got his frustrations out through other outlets - cooking, dancing, and (in my opinion) working out.

Jamil was hesitant to allow himself to get into a relationship in the first place. Relationships were a liability should he get the ideas of autonomy, and to be frank, if he loved you, he wouldn't want you to to be subjected to his fate. However, you got through. Bit by bit, you made your way through his defenses and slowly, he let you see the broken and damaged bits he hid away.

All at once you saw the resentment of a childhood taken away, the anger boiling under the surface, and as time passed you could start to tell what his mood what just by the glint in his charcoal eyes.

Once he trusts you completely and you're alone together, he rants and complains and punches pillows, showing you his anger. When you place a gentle hand on his arm, he flinches, takes a breath and apologizes for forgetting himself. But you assure him that you don't mind and that's the first time you see him cry. He cries out of thanks, out of love, and out of necessity - it's been too long. As long as you're patient with him, he will be able to work on expressing his emotions in a healthy manner.

Master of squashing his emotions, Jamil can turn them off like a light switch. He can feel his anger rising and then suddenly he's calm again. After having a long cry, he gets embarrassed and flustered, but he feels better. Will probably also go take a nap.

🔪— How would they react to injury/misfortune befalling their partner? Do they feel at fault?

Azul will regret not having been with you when something happens, but he quickly rectifies the situation by having the twins do a little recon work. If they figure out what, or who, caused the issue, he will have them taken care of without letting you in on the plan, so as not to upset you.

If it wasn't a situation that could be fixed with Floyd's brute strength, then Azul might fluster a bit. He can't keep you under surveillance to keep you safe and he's already blackmailed everyone in charge to be sure that every building was in accordance with Twisted Wonderland's version of OSHA regulations.

He would get anxious to the point of an upset stomach at the thought that maybe he truly was powerless if he couldn't keep you safe and unharmed. The thoughts would plague him.

Jamil would react one of two ways. 1) if it was a non-threatening issue that simply upset you or gave you some scrapes, he would poke fun at you for being clumsy or careless. Or 2) if it was something on a grander scale, say a broken bone, he would chastise you to an almost insulting degree before he begrudgingly takes you to the nurse. He would feel guilty afterward for being rude to you, but it was his first response to the panic that gripped his heart. He would apologize with a hearty meal and by listening to whatever boring story you wanted to tell him that he would normally drift off during.

Scratch that, there's a third way. If it wasn't injury that befell you, but hard times financially with your family or what-have-you, then he would truly panic. He family was okay by their standards, but he wasn't in a position to help you. He would become irritated and would pace around his room, tossing ideas around. If it were severe enough, he would consider sucking up his pride and asking Kalim, who he knew adored you and would do anything for you. But the idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.

💧— Random angst headcanon

Jamil breaks up with you before graduating because he doesn't want you to be sucked into his lifestyle until he can create a better situation for you. But when he finds you again, you've already moved on. It's for the better, he tells himself.

Azul is consistently worried that you secretly think that he's slimy and gross, whether physically or personality-wise. Sometimes he gets bitchy because it makes him so anxious.

that was a lot, but if you want to send in an ask, here's the prompt list!

[yslkook]

gorgeous

#corporate masterlist

summary: it’s the office holiday party, and when you show up wearing this dress, jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself. (jk pov) word count: 3014 warnings: alcohol, cursing, smut 18+- jk jerks it in a bathroom, he’s very into oc and she doesnt know it, jk is pining  a/n: here is a lil holiday-esque drabble. this story takes place about a month after the team returns to seoul from ch 6. pls enjoy this first attempt at smut for jk. ty to @taestybae​ for her endless support <333

Jungkook doesn’t know what to expect from this office holiday party- apparently there had been a huge budget surplus this year and the regulatory department had decided to go all out. The party planners had booked an evening at one of the ballrooms in one of swankiest hotels in Seoul. Meaning that the party itself was semi-formal, or close to it.

Meaning that Jungkook would rather be at home playing video games and eating pizza than dressed in a suit. He’s tired, it’s been a long few months, and he just wants to go home.

But he plays the part, and he plays the part well. Namjoon introduces him to a few people, higher ups, after he grabs a glass of spiced wine from the open bar.

Maybe he can at least get a little drunk. As a treat. 

His thoughts drift to you for a moment. He wonders what you’re doing. Maybe he’ll text you later, if he’s feeling a little brave. Maybe with some liquid courage.

He’s already looking forward to it. But he doesn’t have to, because you walk in through the doors with Seokjin on your arm. 

Jungkook audibly chokes on his wine when he spots you. Namjoon gives him a strange look but Jungkook ignores it, in favor of staring at you. Jungkook’s throat goes dry the closer both you and Seokjin get to him, Namjoon and Sana.

He can’t be next to you, not when you look like that. Not when you look so much more pretty than anything his own dreams could have conjured up. 

“Hi, Jungkook,” You say, your voice low and sweet at the same time. 

He nearly faints.

“Hi,” Jungkook mumbles, “What are you doing here?”

“Huh? Should I leave?” You tease, pointing at the door with your thumb.

“No, I just- I thought this was a reg thing?” Jungkook asks desperately, digging himself into a deeper hole. You only smile even wider at him. 

“Oh, am I not good enough company for you people then?” You scoff, “Maybe we should leave, Sana.”

“No,” Jungkook nearly whines, “That’s not what I meant-”

Jin is having a blast watching Jungkook tripping over his words as the younger man confirms his own already existing suspicions.

Namjoon tells Jungkook that he had invited you and Sana and you reply saying that you had come along with Jin.

What you don’t say is that Jin probably would have found a way to drag you to this party regardless. His jaw had dropped when he had picked you up from your house and you’re flustered under his gaze, something that has only happened a handful of times since you’ve known Jin-

“What? Is it too much? I thought they said semi-formal,” You panic, “Jin, I don’t have anything else! Should I go change? Fuck it, I’m not coming. Jin! Will you say something!”

“You look good, stupid,” Jin says easily and unabashedly lets his eyes roam, “You’re sexy.”

“Oh.”

Your dark green dress hugs your curves but still leaves enough to the imagination. Jungkook’s eyes dart to your shoulders and the dip of your chest, where he sees more of your tattoo that he’s ever seen before. He swallows nervously and when you walk with Sana to the bar, he sees the slit in your dress and an eyeful of your thigh.

Jungkook chugs his drink. The pink flush of his cheeks can be attributed to alcohol after all. 

You’re perfectly elegant and sexy, unaware that Jungkook is having a minor breakdown while trying to stave off popping a boner at this very public event.

He’s not having much luck.

Jungkook is now on his third glass of spiced wine, in an attempt to stop himself from searching for you. No matter where you are in the room, you seem to pop up in his periphery. Whether you’re speaking to Hae-ri, or you’re shoveling appetizers into your mouth with Seokjin, or you’re speaking with Namjoon’s boss… you always seem to be in his line of vision.

He seems to be one of the youngest people in the regulatory department, a fact that Jungkook’s colleagues seem to always want to bring up. Remarks of how they’re old and of ‘kids these days’ as they look pointedly at him, saying that he’s young and spry are the norm.

It’s annoying and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. He just grins and bears it, going through his third glass of wine much quicker than expected.

These people always say they want change and fresh ideas and somehow refuse to embrace them. It makes Jungkook scoff. He’s happy with his small team of Namjoon, you and Sana. He’s happy that you’re all young at heart and that things aren’t so competitive. He knows he’s blessed in that aspect.

Jungkook is thankful when Seokjin pulls him away to introduce him to his own boss-

“You’re Namjoon’s golden boy,” Seokjin shrugs, “Everyone already knows you.”

He wants to ask, do people know you? But he refrains, not wanting Jin to get the wrong idea. Jungkook shouldn’t be as surprised as he is when he sees you standing next to Namjoon with Jin’s boss and one of her colleagues.

Now he really has to keep himself in check. You make him weak and despite his best attempts to avoid looking at you, his eyes land on you anyway. And how can he not turn his gaze to you?

He’s a goner, and he knew it from the minute he saw you walk into the venue.

Jungkook watches your red lips move as you speak with Seokjin’s boss and he vaguely wonders how your lipstick has remained intact this long. Your laugh is like music in his ears, you even throw your head back in genuine mirth at something that Seokjin’s boss says.

You’re not watching him. So he sips his wine and allows himself to enjoy your presence, all wrapped up in front of him in possibly the prettiest dress on the prettiest woman he’s ever met. 

Your whole body shakes as you laugh unabashedly and fully and Jungkook dares to ogle your chest for longer than he should of a colleague. But you’re you, and he’s just a boy. 

You’re his dream girl and he’s just a boy.

He wonders what your skin might taste like- you always smell so good, the faint scent of something warm and comforting always surrounds you. Your skin is glowing, the ink on your shoulders shining with the light from the chandeliers above.

And then your thigh peeks out and the sight of your leg sends an arrow of arousal straight down his spine. Jungkook thinks he catches a glimpse of color on your upper thigh but it’s gone as quickly as it comes.

His throat is dry again. He needs another drink.

While he wants to look at you in peace as if you were a painting made just for him, he wants your attention too. Before he can slide into the conversation and see your pretty eyes light up for him, you turn to him on your own.

“Hi,” You murmur to him once it’s clear that Seokjin has steered the conversation with his boss away from you, “Feel like I didn’t get to say hello to you properly earlier.”

“O-oh,” Jungkook mumbles, “No worries.”

“Got any plans for the holidays?” You ask softly. Your voice rings loud and clear in his ears, the sweet taste of wine on his tongue has nothing on what he imagines your lips feel like against his.

“J-just goin’ to my parents’. My brother’s coming for a few days, with his girlfriend,” Jungkook says, letting himself relax around you. It’s easy for him to do, when you give him a smile and a laugh that makes his heart lurch.

“Oh! You have a brother,” You reply, “Older or younger?”

“Older.”

“Ah, so you’re the baby of the house,” You tease, looking at him over the rim of your glass. Jungkook is momentarily distracted by the glossy taupe of your nails. And then his eyes travel up your fingers, as he catches exactly two small tattoos over your knuckles.

“I’m not the baby,” Jungkook complains and your teasing eyes melt away, instead replaced by a warm ember of something more. Your eyes are dark and hooded as you take him in, and it sets his blood alight.

“I know, Jungkook,” You murmur, your voice low and raspy. The corner of your lips quirk up into a smirk and all Jungkook can do is swallow his nerves down. He feels like he’s vibrating, just from your simple look. He preens in your gaze, wanting any and all of your attention.

Not for the first time, he struggles to keep his eyes above your neckline. Jungkook chugs the rest of his wine hastily and your eyebrows raise in mild curiosity. 

Jungkook is struggling to maintain his composure and if he doesn’t get his shit together, you’ll surely notice the small tent in his pants. Only you, looking so gorgeous in green can pull this kind of reaction from him with just a few words.

Jungkook is a sucker.

The hungry look in your eyes passes and instead you ask him about his brother and his family. He falls into easy conversation with you, telling you about last year’s holiday and how he had baked about fifty cookies too many for his family so he had eaten them all instead. He asks you what you usually do for the holiday, to which you reply that sometimes you and Grandma spend it with Seokjin and his family.

The lines between colleagues and friendship have long been blurred between you and Jungkook. At least, that’s how you feel. Normally, you wouldn’t offer that kind of information up to a colleague. But Jungkook feels like a little more than a colleague to you.

“Uh. Do you want to sit with me and eat?” You ask almost shyly and Jungkook feels his cheeks heating up. He nods immediately and follows you to the buffet line, enjoying the way your ass looks in that dress and eating up any glimpse of your leg he can get.

Happy holidays, indeed. 

“How messy do you think these people get after a few glasses of wine?” You muse, observing the higher ups chatting with each other on the other side of the room.

“Pretty damn messy,” Jungkook replies, “Look at Hae-ri, she’s wasted. And Yunho too-”

“Maybe there will be a day where we can act like that and not worry about whether we’ll be fired or not the next day…”

“It’s all about control,” Jungkook says knowingly, “You just gotta fake it till you make it.”

“Don’t gotta tell me that twice,” You scoff, “I feel like I can never get drunk at these things. Feels like big brother is watching, you know?”

“Can’t relate,” Jungkook says smoothly, “What’s the point of a work party if you won’t take advantage of the open bar?”

You laugh loudly, and Jungkook nearly jumps when your hand floats over his forearm to steady yourself. Jungkook sharply turns his face towards yours, meeting your electric eyes. You cross one leg over the other, the skirt of your dress falling a little bit to the side.

And Jungkook sees even more of your upper thigh tattoo than he had before. Now he knows for certain that your ink wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

“Sorry,” You mumble.

He doesn’t know what you’re apologizing for, but he misses the heat of your hand when you place it back in your lap.

When you ask him if he wants to get seconds at the buffet with you, he immediately nods. You say nothing as he reflexively puts his hand at the small of your back. He’s a man, but he’s a gentleman, after all. 

The simple touch and heat of your skin through the fabric of your dress is enough of a memory for him to store for later. He allows himself the luxury of it and when you stand a little closer to him, he can’t help himself from letting his thoughts wander.

Jungkook needs to leave. He needs to either find a bathroom or get his ass home, because the longer he’s in your presence, the harder it is for him to conceal himself from you.

Specifically, his boner. His cock seems to jump whenever you’re in his line of sight and it’s messing with his head.

He’s painfully hard by the point in the night when speeches from the higher ups are being made. They’re thanking the department for their hard work for the year and wishing everyone a prosperous new year. Meanwhile Jungkook isn’t paying attention.

He’s tipsy and he’s thinking about how you’d fit in the crevices of his hands. He’s thinking about how your hips might feel in his hands, how the column of your throat would taste, how you’d look with his head buried in between your inked thighs.

He wants to shove his face into your tits and he nearly groans out loud at the thought. He wonders how his cock would look in your hands, how you’d stroke him, how your mouth would feel…

Jungkook sneaks away from the ballroom in search of a private bathroom. He leaves quietly, not wanting to answer questions. Not when he’s this painfully hard, and the mere thought of you in that dress is seemingly enough for him to cum in his pants.

He swiftly walks through the halls with his jacket subtly covering the front of his pants. He’s mortified that it’s come to this, but if he doesn’t make himself cum in the next ten minutes he might explode.

Jungkook finally finds a bathroom and shoves himself inside, immediately standing in front of the mirror and pulling his belt off.

He’s so desperate. He wonders if you’d like that, if you’d like his desperation that stems from you.

Jungkook pulls his cock out of the confines of his boxers and strokes himself slowly at first. Teasingly. He sighs softly at the relief that his right hand gives him.

Fuck. Would you like that? Would you like that he’s this desperate for you? Would you praise him? 

He squeezes his eyes shut, pretending that it’s your hand on his cock and not his own. He can see you in his mind, your lipstick beyond smudged, eyes watery and your dress rumpled. 

He can see your tattoos on display for him, the ones on your shoulder, your chest and your thigh. Maybe you’d even tell him that they all mean.

The thought sends another rush of blood to his cock. He pumps himself faster, groaning softly and biting his bottom lip.

He imagines you telling him to be loud for you, to let you hear him. In that low, sexy voice.

Jungkook moans your name into the empty bathroom. He’s long been leaking precum from his cock, perhaps since the moment he laid eyes on you. He’s so close…

Everything suddenly feels magnified- his touch on his cock, the thought of your tits spilling over the bodice of your dress. The feel of your lips on his.

His mind runs wild when it comes to you.

Jungkook strokes himself even faster, only to stop abruptly. Start, stop. Start, stop. He whines to himself and peels his eyes open to watch himself in the mirror. His eyes are hooded, cheeks reddened and lips pouty and swollen from biting down.

He needs more than his own hand. He needs friction.

Without a second thought, he plasters his hands over the counter and rocks his hips into the edge of the surface. With a loud, broken moan he grinds into the counter. Wondering how your pussy might feel instead of the cold surface. Or your hands. Or your tits.

He slows down to a slow grind, teasing himself with the thought of you. What would you look like when he made you cum? What would you look like when you came on your own fingers?

He speeds up a little more, groaning and whimpering as the need to cum quickly approaches. The knot in his belly has become even tighter, ready to burst. Jungkook feels like his skin is on fire, his hands doing little to alleviate it.

He pulls off of the counter and strokes himself harshly with rough tugs, groaning your name under his breath. Jungkook thinks about you, waking up next to you after a nap together, bringing you ice cream after a long day, kissing you just because he can in his fantasies.

Thick ropes of white coat his hands and spray across the counter recklessly as he moans brokenly for nobody to hear. 

Jungkook’s knees feel weak as he tries to regain his breath. He braces himself on the counter before taking a paper towel to clean himself up. After, he wets a paper towel with soap and cleans up the counter and the mirror.

His cheeks are blazing once the gravity of what he just did hits him. How is he supposed to face you now?

He doesn’t regret it. You’re his dream girl.

It’s no surprise that soon after Jungkook emerges from the bathroom, the closing remarks are just about to finish. That’s great timing because once they do, he’s booking it out of the hotel as fast as he can. 

And that’s exactly what he does. He leaves, only saying goodbye to Namjoon and makes a beeline for the exit. His Uber is already waiting for him.

He doesn’t notice you looking for him to say goodbye.

It’s later, when he’s in the safety of his bedroom and in his pajamas, that his phone lights up-

you: hey, u must have left before I found you. Just wanted to say bye and happy holidays Jk 💓

Jungkook can’t help his heart doing cartwheels or the smile on his face at your text.

He also can’t help his cock from jumping, either. 

[themonotonysyndrome]

Guilt Eater

Part 4 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ is here! And yes, I will do my absolute best to squeeze in as much Blazblue reference in this series until I can’t! (I mean, that’s how I got the plot bunny for this series anyway~)

We’re moving the spotlights today to Malleus and Ace and a special guest! I thought it’ll be an interesting shift of perspective and change. Don’t worry, we’ll get right back to the kids in the next oneshot. 

As always, big thank you to @tri3tri for letting us expand her Second Wive AU. Hope you guys enjoy this oneshot. 

-

Time tend to leave its mark differently on each species. 

For creatures who only grew stronger with time while their bodies remain near immortal, the passing of time means nothing to the Fair Folks. Time is likened to the ocean; ancient yet full of wonders. 

For Malleus, however, time has not been kind to him. Not since his dear heart and children vanishes. 

Ever since then, there is an unspoken rule among the residents of the Castle of Thorns: the Queen’s family wing is forbidden to everyone but the King.

Even Lilia nod his head to the rule; even he has been walking on eggshells around their King. 

And the years had transformed the Queen’s domain into a catacomb. The rumpled beds, the toys littered in Princess Sherrie’s bedroom, the Queen’s favourite book on her study table - everything is left untouched with layered of dust and cobwebs covering every inch of the surfaces. 

Every evening, the King would stalk the empty halls and bedrooms like a ghost; constantly yearning to feel the memories that embedded on the walls. Once he did his duties as the King and beget the male heir that the court had been pushing, Malleus has been living in regret ever since. 

He should have known that his beautiful wife would attempt to escape during the night of his second wedding. He should have tightened the security not on his concubine, but to the Queen and their Princesses. He should have assured Renata and Sherrie that only their mother holds his heart and that Bellatrix is just a means to an end. 

He should have told them that he loves them. 

Regret and guilt are terrible poisons. It festered under your skin and twist your heart painfully. They plague your mind with ‘what if’s’ and ‘should have’s’ and Malleus have been carrying them ever since that night. 

Tonight, he lost hours inside Renata’s bedroom, just staring at her favourite doll that he bought for her. He still remembers how her eyes lit up and how sweet her smile was when he presented the doll to her; how she was so happy that she clings on him and the doll that day. Deeply amused, he humoured her and carried her in her arms the whole day. Malleus even brought her to his court session, regardless how it broke propriety. 

His every waking moments now drift to MC and their daughters. Where are they? Why couldn’t he find them no matter how many soldiers he dispatched across Twisted Wonderland, no matter how far his magic blanket the lands? Are his daughters healthy, happy? What are they currently doing now? Are they safe? Have they forgotten about him - 

The mirror on the vanity table shattered. Malleus releases the doll in his grip and struggle to calm himself down; his body curl inwards and his breaths erratic. The thought of his wife and children far away and happy from him nearly drove him crazy if it weren’t for Lilia’s quick and careful words of consolation.

“They can’t hide forever, Malleus. Don’t ever give up, you hear me? And once we’ll find them, we’ll make sure her little escape routines are put to a stop. Permanently.”  

Lilia’s words are enough to ground him. For now. 

Malleus failed to assured his wife and daughters his love towards them, failed to show just how deep his convictions towards them are. The moment he finds any threads of their whereabouts, he’ll make sure to rectify that. 

And as the night made way for morning, Malleus forces himself to leave his daughter’s abandoned bedroom to prepare for another long, monotonous day. The only reason why he hasn’t delegate his duties to Lilia was because of his grandmother. His grandmother had come to visit on the eve of his second wedding and stayed when a frantic Silver announced MC and their children’s disappearance. If it weren’t for her, Malleus would’ve burned away his suit and transform into a dragon to search for them. While Lilia organise a search team with Silver and Sebek, his grandmother made sure he understood his duties as King once more. 

That was the first and last time he slept with Bellatrix before his thoughts and desire are consumed with the need to find his family. At that point, neither Lilia nor his grandmother could’ve stop him. 

The castle staffs and guards know to scattered when they see him step out of the Queen’s wing. The moment they heard the door creaked open, the room is empty. 

All but for one individual. 

“Good morning, Father!” 

Malleus stop his track. He tilts his head towards his heir, expressionless. Victor refused to be deterred by his Father’s gloomy aura yet he’s smart enough to carefully approach him. 

The king is stoic on the best days, frightening on his worst. 

“Will you be joining us for breakfast later? I heard from Grandfather Lilia that the kitchen staffs are planning to cook your favourites.” 

“I’ll be taking my meals in my office as usual.” Malleus reply and starts to walk away. 

Victor’s smile drop a little but he pressed on, jogging behind his father. In a rare burst of courage, the Prince grab Malleus’ hand. Surprisingly, Malleus stops walking. He stares at his hand before narrowing his eyes at Victor. 

“W-Would Father like a report of my recent academic progress? My tutors said that I’ve been doing well in my magic classes! O-Oh! I’ve also been diligently keeping up with my etiquette lessons.” Victor stutters out after he immediately let go of his Father’s hand. Feeling like he just committed a grave crime. 

“No need. Your tutors have been sending letters of your progress, daily.” 

“Oh... then would Father be willing to... to train me - ”

“I’m busy. Ask Lilia or any of your tutors.” And with that, Malleus refused to linger any longer, leaving Victor in the empty room. 

Crestfallen, Victor watch his Father go. Knowing that if he bothers him even more, it will just upset him and another storm would loom over the castle for the next few days. His expression immediately morph into a combination of anger and sadness as he stomps away before the staffs could return, not wanting them to see him vulnerable. 

As usual, Victor desperately hopes that one day his Father would finally acknowledge him as a son, not as his Prince. 

-

Time tend to leave its mark differently on each species.

For creatures with a set of years as flimsy as a lit candle’s flame, humans are creatures who bear the passing of time with a passionate vigor. Time is likened to fireworks; beautiful, bright but only for a short moment. 

For Ace, however, time is a constant remainder that he had failed his best friend. Being vulnerable in Night Raven College is a sure way to be taken advantage off and Ace is never known as anything but his brutal honestly, mischievous streaks and habits of getting himself (and others) into trouble. 

But when the headmaster announced that he couldn’t find MC anywhere the day after their senior’s graduation, was the moment that he, Deuce and Grim completely lose their composure. Deuce was too shocked to say anything while Ace couldn’t stop screaming alongside Grim. 

She couldn’t have just vanish! People don’t work like that! 

And even if she finally somehow found a way back to her world, she wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye! 

Ace hated himself as that moment. If only he texted them the night before. Why didn’t he? They usually send stupid texts to one another! If only he kept a closer eye on them. If only she kept Grim close to her. 

For once, the headmaster drop all pretence. For once, his guilt laden answer and heavy sags of his shoulders are genuine. 

MC is gone and he has no idea how or why. But the three of them refused to gave up just like that. Ever since that day, they would do their best to figure out or research about MC’s fate. Jack and Epel, after finding out what happened, did their best to help out too. But days passed without any leads and with heavy hearts, they accepted that their friend is lost to them. 

That was not a good day. 

After Ace and Epel managed to pull Deuce and Jack away from one another (Deuce had completely lost it when the wolf boy reluctantly admit that maybe it was best to stop their research), strangely enough, it was Sebek who finally interjects. 

They need to accept that MC is gone. Even if they could never gain the closure that they desperately want, it’ll be no good to carry this sort of horrible guilt with them forever. With a long sigh, Sebek told them to find peace with it, even if it’s hard. 

Easier said than done. Even now that he’s already an adult and have a son, Ace still couldn’t help but wonder what happened to his friend. He hopes that wherever she is, MC is safe and happy. Anything other than that Ace couldn’t bear to think. 

Ace takes out his phone and checks the calendar app. The anniversary of MC’s disappearance is coming. Usually, Ace would cook MC’s favourite food in honour of her memory and over the years, he has gotten pretty good at it. Good enough that it also becomes his son’s favourite dish. 

Just as Ace was about to put down his phone and get ready to go out for lunch with his older brother, it suddenly rings.  

The name on his phone surprises him. His son rarely calls him ever since he got accepted to Night Raven College. Something about wanting some independence from his old man that Ace retaliates by ruffling his hair because of his boy’s cheekiness. 

Ace press the accept button with a grin, knowing that this is going to be good. “What’s up, kiddo? Finally admit that you miss your old man?” 

He expects a scoff, maybe a reluctant admittance, hell even his son’s rare bout of innocent honesty. What Ace didn’t expect however, is hearing his son’s frightened shriek.

“Dad! You knew a MC/S before right!? Please tell me you know what to do when she went batshit insane!” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! What are you talking about? I can barely hear you!” 

Ace impatiently wait while pressing the phone close to his ear as he hear his son rapidly talking to someone, shouting apologies and heavy breaths as if he’s currently running. 

“Oh Sweet Seven, ok, I think we managed to hide from her.” His son panted. “Yeah, so, I might have, uh accidentally threw my food tray all over this girl and she immediately went supernova. We barely managed to dodge her fireballs!” 

Suddenly, Ace felt his heart drop. “Girl? What girl? Night Raven College is an all-boys’ school.” He heard himself reply. Absentmindedly, his mind brought up the memories of his Entrance Ceremony, years ago. Of a girl that looked so lost in her robes as she stood in front of the Mirror of Darkness. 

“Renata MC/S. She’s the only girl that ended up a student here. I remembered that you had a friend with that surname so I thought she might be related.” 

At that moment, Ace choose to believe it. It’s way too coincidental for it not be. A girl that shares his lost best friend’s surname who also just happend to be the only girl to be accepted in Night Raven College? 

But what Ace doesn’t understand is his son’s comment about the girl throwing fireballs. MC doesn’t have magic. So what’s going on? 

“Hmm, I usually gave her some space before I apologised to her. And a little bribery never failed too.” Ace advised, recalling how MC reluctantly accepts the candy that he offered after he upsets her. 

“That’s not a bad idea, Dad! Will report back the result if I’m not scorched to death.” Ace’s son dryly answer. Some rustling noises and hush whispers can be heard through the phone before his kid ended the call. 

Ace is already calling Deuce’s number. He needs to know about this. 

-

I hope I managed to did Malleus and Ace justice in writing them! I’ll get better with writing the rest of the boys once their children are introduce. Because Renata needed friends/allies against Malleus after all~ 

Speaking of Victor, I was really nervous when I was writing him. Here, he’s not all haughty because deep down, all he want is some praises and love from a Father who only see him as something to appease his court. Not a son. Hope I managed to portray that properly! 

(Also, the name of Ace’s son and two others will be reveal in the next oneshot)

[bulletproofscales]

wrote a wg-dysphoria fic for comfort purpouses

it is very cliche and kind of a word dump and kinda has no plot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32177632

Tags: FtM hobi, trans man hoseok , insecurities , weight gain and gender disphoria , gender discomfort , hurt comfort , chubby jung hoseok , namseok , literally pure fluff

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Hoseok doesn't understand himself most times. Or more specifically, on days like this. Where the mere thought of feeling his body resting against the mattress is cringe inducing. But not as bad as the idea of leaving his bed, starting his day, going outside.

He and Namjoon had plans. Plans that they've been looking forward to for weeks, waiting until they both had a completely free day all to themselves. Hoseok can't just stop everything because he woke up feeling like a gross sack of skin, meat and bones. The entire day was planned to their liking too: favorite restaurants, hiding spots in the city, places to shop, and ending the day probably going back to Namjoon's just to hold each other until the next morning. Nothing too special, really.

They loved the domesticity of days like this.

Hoseok should feel excited right now.

He musters to stand up, and just pushes through normally. Yes, he is a responsible adult and doesn't have to stop his entire life because of some mental turbulence. It's easy for the most part, these days he always wakes up hungry. It's all good until he has to get dressed…

See? It was Hoseok's idea after a few months of dating, to start gaining weight. Thinking, if he grew enough, the parts of his body where weight settled the most would become less noticeable. No matter how slim he was before, there was no escaping the personalized curse that seemed to settle all of his weight at his hips and thighs.

And gaining weight worked! Namjoon was on board with any idea that would help his boyfriend feel more comfortable, and Hoseok found himself feeling genuinely better in his own skin.

Yet... he could barely have the courage to undress right now. Let alone try on something to wear for today, knowing everyone was going to see him on it. Today, it felt as though the plumpness did nothing to hide his body the way Hoseok wanted it to. All he could focus on now, was the fact that if he left with Namjoon today, everyone was going to think Hoseok was his girlfriend.

The thought alone makes it harder to swallow. The roundness all over his body whIch he had come to love, the thickness of his legs that hid his butt. The fat that piled on his torso hiding the curve of his waist and taking attention away from his chest. Even his hands, which had grown a little chubby, were perfect to hide the daintiness in them. All of that on a day like this, just seemed to amplify the pear form that his body grudgingly took in spite of him.

His hands rub at his hips, soft and squishy to the touch, but Hoseok wouldn't dare touch. Only Namjoon gets to touch them without making the older tense up in discomfort; the only thing that makes the squishing of the fat bearable is the deep voice that always comes after it, pouring praise to Hoseok's ear making his shiver in the best of ways.

He doesn't know how he'd react if Namjoon was to touch him now, though. Hell, he didn't know how the younger would react to Hoseok's poor excuse. That's a lie, he knows Namjoon will be nothing but accepting if he so much as suspects his boyfriend is having a bad dysphoria day.

But it doesn't make the guilt go away.

So he pushes it down, rather grabbing something that will cover his body at all, even if it won't hide the parts he doesn't want to see. At least it won't show so much skin.

Hoseok is trying outfit number 6 by the time the doorbell rings. Absolutely not prepared to greet his boyfriend, Hoseok takes one last disgusted look at himself in the mirror before rushing to the door.

"Hey." Namjoon tries to say subtly, but the grin on his face is so wide and eager, it grips at Hoseok's heart. Guilty as he smiles back. "You ready?" He has to slightly look up to meet Namjoon's face; brain unhelpfully reminding him of just how tall his boyfriend is, how masculine he is without even trying.

Ugh, there's no way he is getting through today, is there?

"About that..." Hoseok's smile turns sad, apologetic. Heart breaking at the way Namjoon's expressions drops. "I don't think I feel like I can handle going out today..." He fiddles with his own hands.

"Oh...'' That's Namjoon's own response, and Hoseok understands the disappointment. Can only imagine how tiring it must be to have to cut not only their daily life, but plans they've been looking forward to for weeks, just because Hoseok doesn't feel good about himself that day. He probably thinks the only way for him to progress is to push himself to go out and live despite the dysphoria, to suck it up; maybe even doing that would be the masculine thing to do.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Seok-ah." The voice that speaks is so gentle, though. Warm hands cupping at his soft cheeks. He doesn't manage to answer, rather looking at Namjoon with wide, anxious eyes. "Lets go inside, yeah?" He smiles softly, hands settling at his shoulders before guiding Hoseok back into his own house.

It definitely feels like Namjoon isn't as upset as he should be, being unfair to himself and too kind to Hoseok's dysphoric taunturm. But the older doesn't know if he wants to bring it up, just in case he changes Namjoon's mind. He has to, though.

"It's not that big of a deal J-Joon, we can still go out, I just need to find something to wear." He tries to reassure as Namjoon guides him to the couch. However, the younger has known Hoseok for far too long to buy that.

"If you start feeling better, then we can go out." He smiles innocently, gentle; but knowing fully well that Hoseok was just trying to belittle his experiences.

A weak smile shapes Hoseok's lips into a heart. "It's not fair how you use your knowledge of me against me." He complains, though it has absolutely no bite to it.

"You can't stop me." Namjoon grins back smugly, sitting beside Hoseok and leaning for their lips to meet. The older sighs in defeat; he's lost.

Yet it feels absolutely nothing like losing. At all.

"Fine, but I want your hoodie." He demands, bratty. Hoseok would feel guilty about it if Namjoon didn’t immediately comply with all his commands. Eagerly pushing his hoodie off, silver of tan skin showing as his shirt rides up along with it; which Hoseok absolutely does Not stare at. An quickly snatches it off his hands, before sliding it on his own.

Probably, stealing your boyfriend’s hoodie which fits significantly bigger on him, would be considered a femenine thing to do. But Hoseok will be damned if he doesn't let his nose sink into the fabric and immediately melt at Namjoon’s scent. Only enhanced by Namjoon’s arms, wrapping around his shoulders.

Hoseok never told him to do it, but on days like this Namjoon makes sure to keep his hands off the parts he knows his boyfriend is insecure about. He appreciates it, even if the idea of wrapping his chubby arms around Namjoon’s thick waist seems silly considering their different bodies. But it does make him feel masculine, so he guesses the younger’s strategy works perfectly; as they cuddle closer on Hoseok's couch.

The silence is comfortable for a while, Namjoon tucks his head into Hoseok’s shoulder, as the older gets to caress the warm skin at Namjoon’s lower back.

But oh, Hoseok could never be so lucky.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Namjoon’s voice whispers into the older’s soft neck. And he can only sigh, parly endeared, and partly annoyed.

His boyfriend is so caring. Too caring

“Do I have to?” He groans, and Namjoon takes it as his cue to tangle his fingers gently through the hairs of Hoseok’s nape; soothing.

“I’m asking if you want to, silly.” The older doesn't have to look to know Namjoon is rolling his eyes.

“Nothing happened in particular, cus I know you are worrying about that.” Hoseok grins at the way he feels his boyfriend's body sigh relaxed at that reassurance. “I just woke up feeling this.”

“You better not be using the fact that ‘nothing happened’ as a way to invalidate your feelings.” He scolds gently.

“And you better not be using your knowledge of me against me!” Hoseok whines in an attempt to lighten the mood, and pats his own back when he hears Namjoon’s laughter against his neck.

“I mean it, hyung.” He raises his head from the safe space of Hoseok’s neck; who’s still trying to get past the flips of his stomach at the sound of Namjoon calling him ‘hyung’. “I wouldn’t spend our free day any other way.” And as if to seal the deal, he lands a gentle peck onto Hoseok's nose.

He feels it in his chest, the bursting love he feels for this man. How his body doesn’t feel squirmy at the feeling of his body against Namjoon, just from having him close, having him be treated with such...normality.

It feels like he is broken out of a transe with the movements of Namjoon’s hands at his shoulders. “Y-you know… You don’t have to avoid touching me.” He chuckles a bit nervously.

“O-oh.” His expression grows bashful. “I don’t actually know like--I don’t want to make you uncomfortable!” He whines.

“Namjoon you’re like three times my height, it is not comfortable. You can touch my hips.” It even manages to burst giggles out of Hoseok’s chest.

“Okay, okay.” The younger chuckles as well, as he begins to untangle his arms off Hoseok’s shoulders. And they rather find a comfier route settled at the plush of his hips. And it always feels unfamiliar the first time; as if Hoseok avoids and ignores them so much that they only exist with Namjoon’s gentle squeezing.

His eyes close, as the younger kneads the pillowy skin. Hoseok doesn't realize he is humming until a chuckle bubbles out of Namjoon’s chest. Soft body entirely melted against Namjoon’s firmer one. “You should’ve just told me you needed this.”

“It's hard to admit I need it sometimes, the gentler touches.” The older speaks softly, as Namjoon’s hands rub up and down the curve of Hoseok’s waist, thumbs caressing at the sides of his belly.

“Aish, you speak like I’m not gentle with you ever.” Namjoon groans quietly, rolling his eyes. His hands squeeze at Hoseok’s waist unaware. And okay, he does not mind this.

“I know I know. But I overthink everything when I get like this, you know that.” He cups the younger’s face, whining softly. “I like it though.. I just feel like I might not deserve it sometimes.” He confesses with an apologetic smile.

But Namjoon doesn’t falter, still grinning with so much love. “That’s alright, I love reminding you.” He leans to Hoseok’s hand still cupping his cheek, kissing it.

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Interrogation

Will Graham x Reader x Hannibal Lecter

Warnings: Stalking, um? Idk maybe non con if you wanna take it there.

Notes: I’ve literally rewritten this like 10x because I feel pulled in so many directions. Cut it super duper short, still have the other (much longer and much more thought out) versions in my notes, tho... ANYWay... murder duos? Sign me the fuck up ✌️

You tap your notepad.

He watches the pencil hit the paper over, and over again.

You’ve gotten nowhere since you arrived, but you’re still feeling hopeful.

Where are you right now? Working. Well, more specifically, you’re sitting on a plastic chair in front of a glass wall. Behind this wall, the infamous Will Graham is sitting on the all but clean floor.

“I can get you books. Something to write with, maybe?” you suggest to him kindly.

“No. It’s hardly a fair exchange.” he shakes his head.

“Then what do you want, Mr Graham?”

“What do I want...? what... do I...” he repeats, taking his time to taste the words on his tongue. When he finally makes his decision, he looks you in the eye. “I want to see the crime scene.” His face is sweaty and his loose curls stick to his forehead with little effort, no doubt from the lack of air conditioning in his cell.

“I can get you photocopies.”

“No, no, no, that’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.” he shakes his head. “I need to be there in person, Y/N.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.” he scoffs at you. “I’ve been good, very cooperative. They would allow it because it’ll allow me to continue my good Samaritan streak with reason.”

You look him in the eye for a moment and observe him, searching. There’s something so genuine about everything he says. Even so, his honesty isn’t going to land him the spot he expects in the investigation.

“You’re not being very cooperative as of right now. So, I think I will take my chances.” you simply state.

You can’t let yourself get carried away or forget. You’re here to find information on a current string of murders. The little evidence you have points to Dr Lecter, but he’s quite the slippery piece of meat. He’s still out there, despite his partner in crime currently residing in this poorly maintained institute for the criminally insane. And the best part? You’re looking right at him.

“You’re aware of my background, right Y/N?” he says. “You should know how my process works.”

“That I do, Mr Graham.”

“Then bring me to the crime scene.” It all feels so repetitive, but you note his constant eagerness anyway.

“That I cannot do, Mr Graham.”

He smiles your way and leans his face against the glass. His voice is low and breathy. “How many more have to die before you finally let me help the way I know how.”

“Why are you so suddenly open to betraying Dr Lecter? You spoke highly of him moments ago.”

“Maybe so, but I think I’m making this little game of cat and mouse enjoyable for all of us.”

A shiver ran up your spine, but you can’t tell if it was from fear or... excitement. You feel like you’re finally getting somewhere.

“Could you elaborate?”

“Well,” he looks around his room with a hum. “Do you feel safe in your own home?”

“What kind of question is that?”

He repeats himself sternly. “With everything you’ve witnessed, can you still sleep comfortably at night?”

Do you?

You returned home that night with his question in mind. Though you refused to answer at that moment in favour of the case, you truly believed you slept relatively well at night. Maybe just... as well as you had always found yourself sleeping.

But tonight, something was different. You wouldn’t have considered yourself a light sleeper until then.

You’re awoken suddenly. There was no sound to alarm you, but your eyes still searched the ominous dark.

After a moment of stillness, you heard something shift and your hand bolted for the lamp’s switch. Before you could reach it, a voice veiled in a thick accent emerges from the dark.

“Don’t turn on the lights.”

You freeze.

The voice is nearly unfamiliar as it sounds somewhere in front of you.

“Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter, but I can assure you, you’ll know soon.” His statement didn’t help ease your worry, only stoking the fires of absolute fear of your own well-being.

“Then tell me what you want.”

“I’m only here to talk.” You squint as he speaks, trying to adjust to the darkness and take note of his appearance. “There’s no harm to be made with a little chat.”

And there it is— something clicks in your mind and you finally put a face to the voice. Though you had never met them personally, you felt confident.

“Hannibal Lecter.” You blurt out, yet your only confirmation is the subtle hum that leaves his lips.

“Did you like what I did with the motel?”

“The crime scene? It’s putrid.” You’re reminded of the corpse. “No amount of planning and posing can make the disemboweled body of a man look appealing.”

“That’s hurtful, but I understand.” You have a hard time finding the intention with his words... is he being silly or genuine? Hannibal has a very emotionless way of speaking.

“What is your relationship with Mr Graham?”

“I hadn’t expected you to be so forward.” He seems to light up, though the pitch black in the room remains. “But you answer your question... we’re friends, lovers and even enemies at the worst of times. I’m anything Will needs me to be, but sometimes I’m not enough.”

“What do you mean?”

To your side, a creak resonates in your ear. You feel your body stiffen and your eyes grow wide. Hannibal had since stopped the conversation and seemed to melt with the darkness once more.

As you feel the bed dip, a new yet all-too familiar presence makes itself known. Your panic raises, yet you find yourself unmoving. No matter how much your mind screamed, you couldn’t find the courage to make a move. Perhaps you didn’t believe yourself to be truly awake, or you wished it, but you couldn’t find the guts that were trained into you anymore.

A breath settled across your cheek and your eyes shut tightly. Though nothing in your vision changed, you desperately held onto the slipping hope that none of this was real. And, as you finally inhaled, a soft whisper blows by your ear. “Do you still feel safe in your own home?”

[le0watch]

A Flower for Your Thoughts

The night is still young, the palace filled to the brim with young women hoping to catch the prince’s attention. Each young lady has her own dress, and the colors range from white to black, and the sizes from large and puffy to thin and flat.

They’re all so loud and persistent, and hardly give Prince Langa the space he desires. He doesn't even want to be here- it was a decision made by his mother and chamberlain back in their Kingdom of Snow. His mother was beginning to get worried that he was too lonely, and his chamberlain had suggested that they come here to try and find him a suitor. Because then, with a wife, Prince Langa wouldn't be lonely again.

And while Langa would love for a wife, this feels too forced, and not natural. The women here only care that he's a prince, and for the enormous amount of wealth and fame that comes with marrying him. None of them actually care for him… just his title.

He sighs heavily, sitting on the edge of a fountain somewhere in the large palace garden. He's been here a while- no one has been able to find and annoy him as of yet, and the sound of the trickling water was soothing compared to the yelling and calling of the women in the castle. He rests his chin in the palm of his hand, the loneliness he'd come to know so well back him settling in his gut.

“It's the same here…” he mutters quietly, staring at the cracks in the ground and the ants crawling through the grass.

Suddenly, someone flops down beside him on the fountain’s edge, her dress a brilliant blue that spills around her legs and feet. It splays out across the edge of the fountain, some of it brushing through the water beneath them. He flinches, ready for yet another suitor to try and woo him for his wealth.

“Where is everybody?” the girl says, and Langa is struck by how cute she sounds. He hasn't looked at her yet- afraid if he does, it’ll break the spell and she’ll start fawning over him. He feels her eyes on the back of his head a moment later, staring at him. “Did you get lost?”

A reflection of light catches his eye, and glances down at the ground eyes widening as they land upon a gorgeous pair of glass heels. He's never seen glass slippers, or shoes for that matter, but they go wonderfully with her dress.

“Pretty…” he mutters, before he realizes what he's doing.

“Huh?” the girl says, taken by surprise.

“Your shoes. I've never seen any made of glass before,” he explains, and finally works up the courage to look at the girl’s face. He nearly gasps, because she's even prettier than the shoes or dress she is wearing.

Her bright red hair is pulled into two braids that trail behind her shoulders, the rest of it a mess of curls on the top of her head. Her eyes are a gorgeous honey amber color, and they sparkle even in the dark of the night. Freckles pepper her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's looking at her lips, a soft, plump pink.

He has to tear his gaze from her lips as they turn upwards into a bright grin. So bright, Langa momentarily believes her to be the sun, and that morning had come early. Her beautiful blue dress contrasts prettily with her red hair and eyes, sparkling gently beneath the stars.

“Oh, you meant the shoes,” she says sheepishly, chuckling lightly. What a beautiful sound. He almost wants to take back what he'd said, and tell her that no, he'd actually meant that she was pretty.

“Yeah,” he responds instead, because his brain is slow and sluggish as always. This doesn't phase the girl, however, but makes her tilt her head to the side with a crooked grin.

“How long are you gonna stare?” she asks, making Langa jump out of his skin. Oh, great. She’d caught him staring at her like a buffoon- very unprincely indeed. But she instead exclaims, “Let's dance!”

That takes Langa by surprise. She was being so bold- she's not even asking him, she's just saying it like it would be the natural thing for them to do. “With me?” he asks, quite stupidly. Who else was there for her to ask? He blames his short circuiting brain on her and how pretty she is.

“Is anyone else here?” she says pointedly, her grin only widening. She sounds excited, and she grabs his hand, hopping to her feet and pulling him along with her.

He lets out a noise of surprise as he stumbles to his feet after her, surprised by her straight forwardness. Wasn’t he supposed to ask her to dance, if at all? Yet, he doesn't pull his hand away, nor does he say anything negative in response.

Once they're both standing, the girl waits patiently for him to get ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet. When he rests one of his hands in her hand and the other on her waist, her face flushes a pretty red, and she sheepishly chuckles.

“I uh- I’ve never actually danced before,” she tells him shyly, and he blinks down at her. She’s shorter than he is- but not by too much. Her head reaches just above his chest, and is peering up at him through her pretty red lashes. “So uh- could you teach me?”

Langa’s cheeks grow warm at her shy but excited demeanor, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her pretty face. She flushes, and squirms a little under his gaze.

“I'm sorry- I shouldn't have asked if I didn't know how-” she begins to apologize, slowly pulling away from Langa.

But the prince quickly catches her, keeping her close. He smiles down at her warmly- the first time he's smiled in years since his father died- and gently guides her hands to their proper places, one on his shoulder and the other lightly gripped in his. His body buzzes from their intertwined fingers to his toes, a warm happiness settling in his gut.

He hasn't felt so infatuated in a long time- or ever, for that matter. But somehow, this adorable redhead had caught his attention. Maybe it was from how she treated him like an equal, or maybe it was due to her sunny disposition. Anyway, Langa feels as if his heart is going to burst from his chest at any second.

He's never felt in love before, nor has he ever experienced a crush. These are new sensations and emotions he's experiencing, but he's highly enjoying them.

“Your hands go here,” he explains, meeting her amber gaze. Her eyes seem to glow, like a pair of stars in the night sky above them. “And I will lead. Just follow my steps, and you'll catch on pretty quick.”

“Oh- okay!” she exclaims with one of her bright grins. He nearly melts under its warmth, but begins the most basic of waltzes, as to not overwhelm her for her first time. He listens to the faint music playing from the distant castle, taking the first few steps. She stumbles for a moment, and trips over his feet, but he steadies her each time. She flushes and apologizes sheepishly when she steps on his feet, but he reassures her with a small smile.

“Wow, you're a good teacher.” She sounds whimsical, and it makes him smile again.

“You're learning it on your own,” Langa points out. “I'm just guiding you through it.”

“Guess you're right about that!” she exclaims with another bright grin. He loves when he smiles and grins; she smiles with her whole face, eyes scrunching at the edges, the tips of her lips stretching to both of her ears. “Now, who might you be, anyways. I've been dancing with a stranger this entire time.”

“Wait, you don't know?” he asks in surprise, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. Everyone who’s come to the ball is merely there to meet him and hopefully get him to pick them as his wife. Does she really not know- or is she just acting?

But no, in the short amount of time Langa has known this mystery girl, he knows for a fact that she wasn't acting, somehow. The genuinity shining in her eyes coupled with her curious smile proves that to him.

“Should I?” she asks, a teasing edge to her voice. She draws in a sharp breath of surprise when Langa twists her outwards, before pulling her back close to himself again. He smiles down at her, and she smiles back up at him, holding tightly to his hand. Her hand seems to fit almost perfectly in his.

“I suppose not, if you don’t,” he replies. She doesn't have to know right away, right? That would probably break whatever magical spell has set over them, and turn her from a fun young maiden to one just as desperate for his wealth as everyone else. “But you may call me Snow. That's what my mother calls me. And your name?”

The girl hesitates, her dress fluttering around her legs when Langa twirls her, holding his arm high to allow her room. When she’s pulled back in and they fall back into step, she finally says, “That isn’t too important.” Her smile dropped while she said this, making Langa’s heart plummet into his stomach. Oh no, he had upset her. Or, she just feels as if she is inadequate beside him. He has to remedy this instantly.

He opens his mouth to do just that, but the girl beats him by saying, “Why don't you tell me more about yourself, hm? Like why you're outside all alone.” She smirks up at him, her previous negativity disappearing in an instant. She's masking. Langa’s familiar with masking. He was basically raised to always have a princely mask over his face. He doesn't like her masking one bit. But he also knows he can't force someone to stop.

“Needed to get some fresh air,” Langa replies honestly. “It was much too crowded and loud inside, so I stepped out for a moment.”

The girl doesn’t respond until he's finished spinning her through the air, gaining a beautiful burst of laughter from her. Once she’s on the ground again, her laughter tapers off, but a smile remains on her face.

“And what are you doing here, hm?” she asks, and Langa's mind instantly begins rushing for an answer. “I thought only the maidens of the land were invited to the ball, not the men.” She’s teasing him, fluttering her pretty lashes at him.

He swallows heavily, butterflies in his stomach. This girl has to have magic, how else could he be feeling so much because of her all at once?

“That is true,” he says, wetting his lips nervously as he dips her low. She gasps before giggling, latching onto his arm to keep herself from falling. Even though he would never drop her. He doesn't want to tell her he's the prince, yet. Soon, but not now. Just a while longer as another random guy at the palace. He is enjoying it. “I work here. In the palace, I mean. I'm… an apprentice!”

Her eyes widen and she grins up at him, her flowing dress brushing against his knees. The blue of her dress contrasts amazingly with her bright red hair, and he thinks the color suits her.

“Snow the apprentice,” she says. Langa likes the way she says his nickname. Or maybe he just likes her voice. Maybe a bit of both. “I like it.”

Langa lets out a breath of laughter, and dips her for the final time in their waltz. They break apart, and he bows while she courtesies low to the ground. Her dress is like a halo around her, and she looks much like an angel on earth.

Once they've both straightened back up, Langa glances towards the palace, biting his lower lip. He’s sure that he is not yet missed- he could show her around the garden. Maybe even give her that flower… yes!

He holds up a hand in offering, and asks, “May I show you around the garden?”

She hesitates only a moment before she takes his hand, dipping her head shyly. He smiles, and she smiles back at him. He leads her through the garden, pointing out the plants he knows the names of.

“Those are my favorite flowers,” he says, pointing to a patch of blue flowers. “They’re called forget-me-nots. The story behind them just makes them all the more special.”

The mystery girl looks down at them, before releasing his hand to crouch in front of them. She picks one of the many buds, before turning back to him. A light flush colors her freckled cheeks as she stands on her tiptoes to slip the stem of the flower behind Langa’s ear. His breath catches in his throat at her close she is- her breath mingling with his, and he can see each time her pretty lashes flutter, and the way her lips hanging slightly open.

Once satisfied, she draws back, looks over her work, and then grins brightly. “It matches your hair!” she exclaims, and he's taken by her all over again. She retakes his hand, and he has to draw in a deep breath before he can speak again.

“Th- thank you very much,” he says, clearing his throat. He's sure he's blushing. His face is hot enough. He then tugs on her hand, “Now I want to show you something.”

“Haven’t you been showing me the garden?” she teases, but follows after him obediently.

He doesn't answer her, looking this way and that for the flowers he has in mind. Finally, he spots them: red hibiscus flowers. He tugs her along quickly, and she lets out a surprised laugh, stumbling a moment to be able to keep up with him. Once he's reached them, he gestures for her to sit down. She raises an eyebrow at him, but does so anyways, her dress pooling out around her on the grassy ground.

“Hope this doesn't ruin my dress,” she mutters, more to herself than Langa. He hums in response, but focuses on the task at hand. His father had taught him how to do this as a gift for his mother when he was younger, and they constantly did it for her when Mother’s Day rolled around.

He gathers a hand full of the brilliant red flowers before he steps to stand behind her, dropping onto his knees to reach her hair. He sets the fistful of flowers on the ground beside himself, and takes his gloves off. He then combs his bare fingers through her puffy hair, eyes widening at how soft it is beneath his fingertips. She stiffens at first, before relaxing as he gently cards his fingers through her hair.

Langa begins to part bits of hair into two sections, throwing the right side over her shoulder. She stays silent as he works, and when he looks at her freckled face, he finds her eyes lightly closed as she soaks in his soft touches.

He smiles softly at her relaxed expression, before beginning the braiding process. Each time he loops one large strand of hair over the other, he weaves a flower or two between them. He continues this until he's finished the first braid, smiling at his work. He guides the large braid over her left shoulder, and then quickly picks another handful of hibiscuses.

As he focuses on the right braid, the pretty girl in front of him hums softly. “Didn’t think you knew your way around a woman’s hair,” she says softly, lightly tracing the braid with her finger. “This is beautiful.”

“Just as you are,” Langa says before he could think it through. He hears her take in a sharp breath of air out of surprise, looking at him through the corner of her eye over her shoulder. He smiles at her with a wink, and her face turns a deep red similar to the flowers weaved into her hair. “My father taught me, so I could do this sort of thing for my mother. She's always loved it when I do it, so I thought you would as well.”

“I think I do,” she whispers, running her finger along one of the flower’s petals. Langa watches her for a moment, getting caught in how gorgeous she is just looking at the flowers in her own hair. Then, he shakes himself inwardly and gets back to work, weaving more and more flowers into the second braid.

When he's finished, he guides the second braid over her right shoulder. She traces this one as well, before turning to face him, grinning brightly at him, blinding him all over again. “Thank you very much, Mister Snow!” she exclaims, and grabs one of his hands. Their fingers weave together, and he looks at their interlocked hands with wonder.

“And thank you for letting me do it, fair maiden,” he answers courteously. She giggles at him, and he slowly brings her hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips against the back of her hand. Her breath catches, her face flushing an even deeper red. Man, red really is her color. “I've had such a wonderful time with you- please, I must know your name.”

She wets her lips nervously, her amber eyes sparkling with anxiety. He lowers her hand, and begins to lightly trace her knuckles with his thumb. She watches this for a few seconds, before drawing in a deep breath. She steels herself, before meeting his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she says, and he unconsciously scoots closer to her, his knees brushing through the grass. He stops at the edge of her dress, not wanting to drag his knees across the well sewn stitching or fluffy layers. She leans in close, like she's about to tell him a secret, and he leans towards her without noticing, holding his breath with anticipation. “My name is-”

She cuts herself off when the loud bong of the nearby clock tower sounds, her eyes going wide, grip on his hand tightening. He stares at her questioningly, still waiting for her to say her name, only for her to suddenly be pulling away, pushing to her feet while brushing the front of her dress off.

“I have to go,” she says, taking Langa by complete surprise. His mouth falls open as she begins to quickly walk back they way they’d come, dress swaying around her wildly. Her expression is one of regret, but she doesn't stop going, turning back for one moment to tell him, “It was a fun night. Thank you very much.” She does a small curtesy before taking off in a full on sprint.

Langa almost can't do anything at first. All he could do was stare where she'd just been, his hand, now empty, held out uselessly in front of himself. The grass where she'd been sitting has an indention in it from the grass laying across it.

Then, he snaps out of it, and scrambles to his feet, taking off after her. “Wait!” he calls after her. His heart is hammering in his chest- they were having such a good time, why did she have to suddenly leave? The ball isn't even over for another two hours. They had plenty of time, and he wanted to get to know her more. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I'm sorry!” she calls back, disappearing around a corner. Langa runs as fast as his legs could take him, and finds her already halfway down the steps of the palace. Her dress flares out behind her in a mess of blue, brushing across the tops of the steps.

At one point, Langa’s heart stops when she seems to stumble and nearly trip over one of the steps. He hardly even notices the large amount of noise growing behind him; everyone inside must have taken notice of his plight.

But the girl catches herself, pauses to look back, and then takes off again. Langa stops at the spot she had- spotting one of her beautiful glass slippers. His eyes widen and he crouches down to pick it up.

Bad idea.

Because the girl manages to get into her carriage and the carriage takes off as soon as the door is closed. His heart plummets and even though he knows it's in vain, he still gives chase after the carriage as it pulls away.

“Wait!!” he shouts after the receding carriage, to no avail. He glances around for his horse, but is stopped when his mom appears beside him, panting.

“Who was that?” she asks breathlessly. Langa’s mind buzzes; no no! He doesn't have time to talk! He has to get his horse and get to her before he loses her! But his mom catches his wrist before he could run, stopping him in his tracks. “Snow!”

He snaps out of his daze, and looks down at her desperately. Kojiro suddenly appears beside his mother, looking between them with confusion. “She- I- She's the one, Mom! And she hasn't even told me her name!” he manages to exclaim.

His mother’s eyes widen, and she looks at Kojiro, who seems to understand her look. He peels away from them towards the palace guard, hopping onto his horse.

“Calm down, sweetie,” she tells him soothingly. He's trembling, he realizes. He doesn't want to lose this mystery girl and her pretty face and kind personality and the things she makes him feel. He’d just met her and started smiling again! “Kojiro and the guards will go and bring her back, alright? Just wait right here. They'll be back soon.”

Langa wets his lips, biting his lower lip anxiously. He tightly grips the glass slipper she’d left behind, the only connection he has back to her.

His mystery princess.