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d3-iseefire · 4 years

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Little Swan Lost Chapter 35

Note: New Chapta! :D Also, awesome fan art made by the amazingly talented @metrosideros-excelsa! Check it out here: https://d3-iseefire.tumblr.com/post/617297103876718592/this-is-so-awesome-i-love-it-thank-you

Bilba sat nervously in a chair that probably cost more than her apartment in Shire and wondered if perhaps she should have chosen to put up with Kyra after all.

When Ori had invited her to breakfast, Bilba had envisioned a quaint little café, like the ones she, Rosie and Bofur had often frequented back in Shire. Small, cozy places with worn vinyl seats and round tables. Tiny windows that let in the light and sounds of birds chirping from outside and muted the quiet clink of silverware and conversation from inside.

King’s Landing was the exact opposite of that.

The restaurant was a sleek, multi-level building located on a rocky plot of land overlooking the ocean. The inside was dark and dimly lit so that it felt as if she’d stepped from the brightness of morning to the gloom of twilight. Circular, leather couches sat around what looked like marble tables and a live violinist paid quietly from a dais in the back corner.

Having never been before, Bilba had asked Cici to pick out her clothing. She’d felt worried she’d be overdressed in the resulting dress and heels but, now that she was here, she was mildly concerned she was underdressed.

Not that she would have fit in either way.

It hadn’t really occurred to her that going to breakfast would be the first time she’d officially appeared in public. Or that the eyes of every noble would be on them as they were led through the dining room to a private room.

If it weren’t for that private room, Bilba was certain she’d have turned around and walked right back out. There was simply no way she’d have been able to sit for any length of time with the weight of all those judgmental eyes on her.

The room itself was as larger than most of those cafes back home with black paneled walls, a black marble table and matching carpet. The only light came from the far wall, which was comprised entirely of glass from floor to ceiling and presented a truly amazing view of the ocean down below.

“So,” Ori’s voice broke into her musings, “what do you think?”

Bilba jumped pulled her gaze away from the window. A plate she hadn’t noticed being brought in sat before her and her stomach rumbled at the sight of the piles of food on it. At least this wasn’t one of those restaurants where they gave you a splash on the plate and called it a meal. “It’s very nice,” she said non-committedly, as she picked up her fork.

She frowned toward the door. Gareth was stationed just outside it, while Cerys stood inside. It felt awkward to be eating while the other woman just watched, but she’d already asked Cerys to join them and the offer politely declined.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ori asked. “We could have gone somewhere else if you preferred. I just thought – here is already vetted, you know? Anywhere else we’d have needed to wait for security checks, and that would take time and ---”

“And you were helping me avoid Kyra for a day,” Bilba broke in with a small smile. “I know. I just didn’t realize it would be such a—” she waved her hand as she searched for the right word. “Spectacle,” she finished finally.

That was exactly the word for it. They’d have to take a convoy, with multiple cars and she didn’t even know how many guards. Someone had clearly called ahead to let the restaurant know they were coming, and a veritable red carpet had been laid out with the owner and chef ready to greet her and escort her inside.

No one had been unkind, but the entire thing had left her stomach tied in knots. There was simply no way it had gone unnoticed. She had zero doubt that every news organization in town had been alerted to the fact she’d left the palace and the thought of having to face them when she left—

“You made a pretty big step up in rank,” Ori was saying. “And Erebor is a lot larger than Shire. How many guards did you usually have in Shire? Like ten?”

“None,” Bilba said without thinking.

Ori’s mouth literally gaped, and she dropped her fork with a clatter. At the door, Cerys shifted, but said nothing. “None?” Ori repeated, dumbfounded. “How could you have had none?”

Bilba shrugged. “I had a large family, and most of them lived in the capital. I was about as far from there as you could get. Most days, I’m sure there were few who even remembered I existed.”

“You didn’t visit?” Ori asked.

Bilba tried not to flinch. “Sometimes.”

She frowned and tried to focus on her food and not the dozens of reporters probably gathering outside, or the fact that she’d have to deal with watching Kyra fawn over Thorin at meals starting tomorrow.

Why had she thought leaving her room was such a great idea again? She’d love to just go for a walk, maybe visit Bombur and apologize for missing her first day of work, or perhaps see if she could find the college or even the ballet studio she knew existed somewhere in the town.

In Shire, she could have just done it. Here, it would be a whole thing, and even then she probably would have to check with Soren over her schedule and whatever it was she was expected to do for the day.

She absently chewed on her lower lip. She’d never actually promised Thorin she wouldn’t sneak out again, just that she’d alert her security team before leaving. Perhaps if she could think of a way around that...

Or, a petty part of her butted in, she could also tell Thorin she’d give up sneaking out if he gave up prancing about with his mistress all the damn time. He’d probably personally escort her through the passageway on the beach if she were to do that.

Maybe she should.

The second the thought crossed her mind a sour feeling settled over her. Handing him off to Kyra…grated. Not because she wanted him, but just because of how much their relationship was flaunted. An outsider might think Kyra was still his fiancé the way the two behaved and the thought of sitting back and behaving like everything was fine while she was publicly cuckolded was just…degrading.

Ori asked her a question, and Bilba tried to pay attention. She soon became engrossed in conversation with the other woman but stayed careful about what she said. No doubt every word she spoke would be reported to Ori’s husband and brother and the last thing she needed was either of them taking more than a passing interest in her.

The food was gone before she knew it and, after another half hour or so of idle talk, it was time to leave.

Cerys opened the door to the quiet sounds of the other patrons and Bilba tried her best not to panic. Already, she could tell there were far more people out there than when they’d first come in and she wasn’t the least bit surprise to catch a glimpse of reporters gathered in the parking lot past the plate glass front windows.

You’re a princess, she reminded herself firmly. It was imperative she make a good impression, and not just because of her rank or marriage to the crown prince. It was because every time she turned on the blasted TV it was to hear herself being compared to Kyra. She was always found grossly wanting. Every impropriety and misstep the other woman took was glossed over while Bilba was vilified for so much as breathing.

And that was before she had made any official, public appearances. The last thing she needed now was for them to see her falter. It would just prove the slander and lies in their eyes and pour fuel on a fire that seemed destined to burn forever.

Head high, she reminded herself as they headed out of the private room, back straight. Eyes ahead, pleasant expression. She had to tread the fine line between respecting her rank without appearing haughty or arrogant.

She was proud of herself. She didn’t start shaking until they had nearly reached the exit. When the sheer number of reporters in the parking lot became obvious, along with their cameras and other equipment. Several of the male reporters looked quite large and she mentally cringed at the thought of one or more of them grabbing her and trying to drag her over for questions. It had happened more than once in Shire, and the resulting bruises had taken days to fade.

“Your Highness,” Gareth spoke softly as they stopped just before the doors. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Bilba said, voice shorter than she’d intended. She really wished everyone would stop asking her that. She could see the limo she’d ridden in parked at the curb just a few feet away but it felt like miles. There were guards that had closed around her the second she’d left the private room, and still more outside, but there’d been guards like that in Shire too, hadn’t there?

Everywhere she’d gone while in the capital her grandfather had made a show of surrounding her with guards. Guards who’d done precisely nothing to keep her safe. If anything, experience had told her to be more afraid of them than of anyone they might have hypothetically protected her from.

Gareth pushed the door open and an involuntary, strangled noise escaped Bilba’s throat. Heat washed over her, and black spots danced in her vision. She felt more than saw Ori next to her, Cerys behind them and Gareth in front. He stepped out and Bilba physically forced her feet to follow.

She could do this. She’d been through worse, much, much worse, and she’d never had a choice on whether or not she wanted to go through it. There was never any choice when her grandfather was involved.

Or, at least, there was never any good choice. Go forward or face the wrath of her grandfather for defying him.

Voices instantly assailed her, so fast she could barely make out the questions, though the ones she could understand seemed to follow a familiar theme.

“Your Highness! How do you feel about the prince having to break his engagement to marry you?”

“Your Highness! Is it true you have a volatile temper?”

“Your Highness! Did you plan this to force the prince to marry you?”

The car appeared in front of her, door already open. Bilba stopped in surprise at having reached it so soon. Past the car, the reporters were still shouting questions at her, but none of them were attempting to surge past the line of guards standing between them and her.

How very odd.

“Your Highness?” Gareth’s voice made her jump. She gave him a shaky smile and slid into the car. As she settled into the leather, she felt the same mixture of relief and trepidation she always did. Limos had always been a blessing and a curse. The blessing was that the windows were tinted while the curse…was that the windows were tinted.

Ori got in, and Bilba was surprised to see her face was pale. Before she could react, the other woman leaned forward and grabbed her hands. “I’m so sorry! I never thought about reporters showing up!”

“It’s okay,” Bilba said with a tight smile. Gareth and Cerys slid in and the door shut, cutting off the shouts and rapid-fire clicks of cameras. She tried not to imagine what the stories would be. Probably something like “Princess Flaunts New Position” or else perhaps a montage of Kyra going to the same restaurant and a comparison of how she’d somehow pulled off breakfast flawlessly while Bilba had failed on every level.

The car pulled onto the street, more cars in front of and behind it, and left the reporters behind to write their stories, and spin them in whatever way they saw fit.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Ori asked.

“I don’t know.” Bilba raised her head from where she’d dropped it against the seat back. “Soren has my schedule, but I have no idea what’s on it.”

“Probably not much,” Ori said. “They’ll probably ease you into things at first.”

Bilba made a non-committal noise, and idly stared out the window as they drove back to the palace. There were people on the sidewalk, going to breakfast, wandering in and out of shops, or hurrying on their way to work. A few stopped to watch as the limos raced past before returning to their routines.

None of them had to worry about reporters, nasty rumors, unwanted husbands or ever-present exes. Once, she’d have been among them, hurrying on her way to grab a morning cup of coffee before heading to her first class of the day. Or maybe she’d be window shopping with Rosie or walking with Bofur back to the studio for an early morning rehearsal.

She might have stopped for a moment to watch as the limos rushed past, but she wouldn’t have wondered about them. Wouldn’t have fantasized about who was inside or what their lives were like. That had been Rosie, and Bilba had done her best not to disillusion the other girl.

Bilba had no need to fantasize. She’d already known what it was like and had been more than happy to have the life she’d led.

More than happy…

Ahead of them, the first limos pulled past the gates leading onto the palace grounds. Bilba watched through the windshield as they pulled up the long, winding drive toward the palace. A fairy tale castle to many a young girl no doubt. Her mind went to little Wynne and she bit back a smile. Moving into the palace must be like a dream come true for her.

Her grandfather’s scheming had brought happiness to one person at least.

The car slid to a smooth stop and one of the guards opened her door. She allowed him to help her out and cast a regretful glance toward the gardens and, further down, the now closed gates leading out to the rest of the city.

Ori came up beside her while Cerys and Gareth took up position behind her.

To her surprise, Soren was waiting for her just past the entrance.

“Your Highness,” he said with a bow. “King Thrain requests your presence immediately. I’ve been sent to escort you to him.”

All the air left Bilba’s body.

“Your Highness,” a cold voice slithered in her mind. “Your grandfather requests your presence, at once.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ori said next to her.

“I’m sorry, Lady Ori,” Soren said, sounding not at all apologetic. “My instructions were to bring only the princess.”

“It’s fine.” Bilba clasped her hands together in front of her and stepped closer to Soren. “Thank you for the invitation to breakfast, Ori. I’ll talk to you later.”

Ori looked uncertain, but there was little she could do about it.

“We’ll get to work on setting up your security team, Your Highness,” Gareth’s voice reached her, and she nodded.

Soren turned away and she quietly fell in behind him, hands still clasped before her. She walked with confidence, or the appearance of it anyway, and kept her eyes fixed on nothing. A trick she’d learned long ago to avoid having to see the smirks, and smug looks on the face of her relatives as they watched her being marched off to the executioner.

If asked later, she could not have said where, exactly, the king’s office was. She felt detached as they walked, her mind wandering to a different place where she didn’t have to face whatever it was that lay before her. Where she was still in Shire, living in her apartment with Rosie and waiting for Bofur to pick her up for a date.

Back in Shire, before she’d met Bofur and Rosie, she’d take herself back even further. Back to before her parent’s had died, when the only grandfather she’d known had been Mungo Baggins. He’d bought her first pair of ballet slippers and been front and center at all of her performances, alongside her parents. He’d always applauded louder than anyone, no matter how small or inconsequential her part.

Sometimes, if she tried very hard, she could still feel the rush of the breeze as he pushed her on the swings at the park or hear his laugh whenever she did something silly to amuse him.

The last time she’d seen him they’d been preparing to take a walk to the next town over. He’d taken her to the store to buy food and snacks to prepare a lunch to have along the way, and they’d spent the evening planning when they would leave the next morning, when they would return and where they would stop along the way. Bilba had even been given a little money to be able to buy a small souvenir or dessert once they arrived.

Everything had been ready, her clothes laid out and sack lunches waiting in the fridge. She’d had a sleepover that night at a friend’s house, and had wanted to make sure everything was ready for when Grandfather Mungo came to get her the next day, so she could just get dressed, grab her bag and lunch and off they’d go.

The walk never took place.

Her parents had died that night and the shock of hearing the news had caused Grandfather Mungo to suffer a massive heart attack.

He’d lingered in the hospital for nearly a week.

She hadn’t been allowed to visit.

They stopped in front of a large set of double doors, and Bilba pulled herself back to reality. As much as she didn’t want to, there was no other choice when facing her grandfather but to exist in the moment. He did not respond well to her failure to pay attention.

The door opened and she tensed. Soren bowed low in front of her, said something she couldn’t hear over the roar in her ears, and then stepped aside and bowed her in.

She entered and, for an instant, the room shifted and wavered into the one she was so familiar with in Shire. Her grandfather was obsessed with showing off not just his opulence, but also the impression that he was just a kindly old man. His office was homey with thick rugs, overstuffed bookcases and portraits of his family on the walls.

The sight had always made her nauseous.

The door shut behind her with a quiet click, and the room faded into the one she actually stood in. Rough, unfinished stone walls adorned with swords and weaponry. Cold rock under her feet. One, small bookcase with a few books stacked on it, and a large, rickety looking desk dominating the center of the room.

Her new father-in-law looked nothing like her grandfather.

Where her grandfather was usually near smothered in robes and jewels, the king of Erebor wore armor and the only jewelry he sported were beads in his hair and a few rings. Where her grandfather wanted to portray a false image of safety, it was clear that Thrain wished to convey one of threat.

At least he was honest about it.

Piercing eyes studied her, and Bilba dropped into a deep curtsey. Silence stretched, and she silently thanked ballet for giving her strong legs and good balance.

“Rise,” the king said finally, his voice a deep baritone that was very similar to Thorin’s.

Bilba obeyed. “Your Majesty.” She was careful to keep her voice soft and fixed her eyes on the desk.

He made a harrumph sound. “At least you have some training, not that it prompted you to introduce yourself upon your arrival.”

“My apologies,” Bilba said quietly. Part of her wanted to point to the deception by the head housekeeper and head butler but she realized that Thrain must already know. Reminding him would most likely be seen as an insult, or as her making excuses.

Thrain muttered under his breath and leaned forward in his chair, bringing his arms and hands into her view as he rested them on the desk. They were gnarled and craggy, as was the rest of the him, a ruler used to hard work and getting into the muck and mire alongside his subjects. It spoke well of him in one aspect at least. Her grandfather would no more sully his hands than he would allow a perceived slight to go unpunished.

“Now that you’ve finally deigned to show yourself,” Thrain said in a cold voice, “tell me, Your Highness, how it is that you and my son have been married a full month and have yet to produce a child?”

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743620/chapters/3723188

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mysweetestcreature · 5 years

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Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 7: Two Princes

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Masterlist

***

Monday, November 10, 2008

Y/n doesn’t know what it is, but the dreams about the bench atop the flowery hill continue to evade her dreams night after night. Every morning she wakes up, a new detail having just been discovered and needing to be added to the initial sketch that she had started two months ago. Although, there was a period of about two or three weeks where she hadn’t dreamt of the scene at all. She might have even forgotten about it all together had it not been one of the first pages in her book.

She stands at her locker, grazing her fingers over the indents of the heavier lines as though they were the actual real-life thing.

“That’s a nice drawing.”

A smile arises at the scratchy notes of his vocal cords.

“Why, thank you,” she chirps before closing the sketchbook and placing with precision on the second shelf. (She’ll be sure to work on it again later.) “Good morning!”

Harry raises his hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. “Morning,” he barely rasps out. Slowly, he works his combination into the lock. As soon as it opens up, he tosses a bike helmet onto the locker floor.

“Did you bike all the way here?” Y/n gapes in surprise.

“It’s not that far. Mum’s away on business and Gem’s staying over at her boyfriend’s until she gets back.” After Gemma had dropped Anne off at John F. Kennedy Airport last night, she had texted Harry saying that she would be staying at Michal’s house for the rest of the week (they’re very serious, as his sister puts it). It’s not like he minds it all that much though, he quite likes having the house to himself as long as it doesn’t last more than a week.

***

Maybe he’d been a complete and utter arse in his past life, it’s the only explanation as to why he hasn’t been able to maintain appropriate stress levels for more than a few days. He really can’t help but wonder what he did to piss off the people upstairs because as soon as he had finally cleared the air between him and Y/n, this just had to happen.

Harry doesn’t like –– no, no, more like he hates –– Jasper Daniels with every ounce of his being, in fact.

And Harry doesn’t hate anyone! He’s always been pretty accepting of others, even when they’ve been jerks to him at times, but there’s just something about him that makes him want to take a football and aim it directly at the guy’s gut. What really gets his blood pressure going is how everyone, and really, he just means Y/n, thinks he’s the coolest person in the entire world. Sure, Jasper writes poetry and reads it to the elderly down at the senior center twice a week, and maybe he does play the violin like a professional out of the philharmonic orchestra. Other than that, there’s really nothing that special about him.

“He’s super hot, if you ask me,” Cici says, eyes as hazy as a dream while she admires the back of his head. “Like he’s totally got that Abercrombie model vibe going on.”

“I don’t know, that beanie makes him look dumb. Don’t you think it’s weird how he never takes it off?” Harry presses, glaring down as he shreds the remains of his chicken fingers, collecting them in a large pile on a nearby napkin. Even at lunch, where all he wants is to sit down and enjoy a meal, he can’t escape.

Cici looks at him knowingly, an almost evil smirk forming across her lips as she turns to her best friend. Maxxie kicks her under the table, desperately shaking his head as to tell her to stop, but she pushes forward anyway. “What do you think, Y/n? You know him better than I do.”

“Hm?” she hums, brows rising high before she can tear herself away from her sketchbook. “Jasper?” she asks when she looks up, Cici nods. “He’s really nice! When I went with him to his mom’s birthday, he–”

“Wait, what?” Harry drops the last bit of chicken. “Like-like as his date?” Who brings someone they’ve just met to a parent’s birthday party!? He’s known her for about three months now, and he has yet to introduce her to Anne and Gemma!

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she giggles, stealing a fry from Harry’s tray. “His mom knew I was making her cake, so she told Jasper to bring me along.” She takes a bite out of the fry, face contorting in displeasure as she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

Harry slides her a packet of ketchup. “Here,” he mutters under his breath.

“Thank you!” she cheers happily, squeezing the entire thing onto the rest of his fries. “His parents are really nice! His mom is Filipino, so the food was so good! Have you guys ever had pancit? There’s a Fil-Am restaurant just off Main Street, we should totally check it out!”

“We should!” Cici agrees. “And maybe we should invite Jasper, just so we know what to get.”

Maxxie bites harshly on his bottom lip, daring to look at Harry, who he’s afraid might explode with any further provocation. “You know,” he starts, “I was actually hoping we could get ice cream!”

“It’s like forty degrees outside,” Cici deadpans.

“And is ice cream in forty-degree weather a crime or something?” Maxxie chuckles nervously. “Or what about sushi! If we leave right after bell, we can order in time to get the lunch special prices! Seven dollars for two different rolls? I mean, how do you beat that?”

***

“What are you doing?” Maxxie asks her as soon as he arrives at her table in the library. After being dismissed from Drawing, he had shouted a rushed goodbye to Y/n before running through Abbott Hall (even getting a demerit from Mrs. Murphy because he had slammed into her cart, causing all of her hydrogen chloride to spill onto the floor).

Cici doesn’t even look up from her homework. “Geometry,” she answers evenly.

He sighs, dropping his messenger bag by the foot of the table. He falls into the chair across from her, crossing his arms and pouting at her like an upset child who has just been refused dessert. “I meant, what the hell was that at lunch? I thought you liked Harry?”

“I do,” Cici says, but sighs immediately afterwards. She places her pencil gently down into the crease of her notebook. It’s not like she called him after midnight just to chat. Of course, she had every intent of helping the guy out. Their talk was so inspiring (she should really get an award for world’s best motivational speaker) that he went all the way to Y/n’s house not even twelve hours later. “But you didn’t see her after he kissed Zoey.”

“And you didn’t see him when she wouldn’t talk to him. I’ve never seen someone so miserable in his life,” he counters.

“Look...” She leans back in her seat and pulls on her ponytail and runs her fingers through all the knots. “I want them together as much as you do, but until then, let him suffer just a little bit. No one makes my best friend cry and not have to pay some consequence for it.

Maxxie blows raspberries into the air. “Hasn’t he agonized enough, though? He texted me like an hour ago and I could practically feel the tears in his text.”

“That’s–”

“Heartbreaking?”

“I was going to say ‘dramatic,” Cici snorts, returning her attention back to her assignment.

Rolling his eyes, Maxxie gets up. “Well you’re–”

“A stellar friend?”

“I was going to say, ‘slightly sadistic.’”

***

“I definitely would recommend the chicken adobo and lumpiang shanghai for first-timers,” Jasper says over Y/n’s shoulder as they all look at the food selections. Instead of choosing what he wants, however, Harry can’t help the scowl on his face as he looks at the two of them. Although, he’ll admit that everything behind the glass screen looks absolutely mouthwatering, or maybe it’s just that he hadn’t eaten much of his lunch earlier.

“Oh! Do they have pancit?” Y/n asks excitedly.

Jasper signals towards the woman behind the counter. “Ate, may pancit pa ba kayo?” (“Do you guys have any pancit left?”)

“Wait lang! Tingnan ko sa kusina.” (“Just wait! I’ll check in the kitchen.”)

Harry squeezes between Y/n and Cici, earning him a whack in the arm from the latter when she stumbles into Maxxie’s side. “So, you’re bilingual?” he muses.

“Tri, actually,” Jasper shrugs as though he isn’t impressing everyone around him. “My grandma was a high school German teacher, so I’m pretty good at conversational talk.”

The smile that lands itself on Harry’s mouth couldn’t be any more strained, the muscles in his cheeks slowly starting to ache. “That’s...that’s great!” he exclaims through gritted teeth. Of course, how could he expect anything less? Turning to Maxxie, his expression falters. “Isn’t that just great?”

The blonde boy nods all too cautiously. “Yeah,” he draws out, switching places with Cici. He leans in just enough to whisper in his ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave? My mom’s just at the Shop Rite right around the corner.”

Harry can sense the panic in his tone, just as Maxxie can feel how the air that surrounds him might just be a little too stuffy for the five of them. However, he chooses to brush off the suggestion. There’s no way he’s leaving, only to give rise to an opportunity for Jasper to make a move in his absence. “Is that chocolate?” he asks, pointing to a dark, almost black dish with lumps of unknown floating at the top.

The woman behind the counter laughs loudly, bending over backwards and clapping her hands repeatedly. “Tsokolate daw!” (“Chocolate!”) she blurts out with a giggle, wiping a tear from along her lash line. “This is dinuguan. It’s like a pork blood stew. Very delicious!”

“Oh, that’s um...” Harry turns his head to the side, both Y/n and Jasper’s eyes trained on him. It’s like the next words to come out of his mouth are being anticipated by the masses, and one wrong move may lead to the ultimate humiliation in front of her.

“Hey, man,” Jasper starts, “it’s okay if you’re not up for it. Some Filipino food can be a little daunting for first-timers.” His hand lands itself around Y/n’s shoulders when he squeezes in the already tight space that lingers between them. “This one saw the lechon at my mom’s party and almost fainted. She wouldn’t even go near it!”

“Excuse me!” she gasps. “But that was a whole pig on the dining table!” She cups her face, shaking her head as she relives the vivid memory over again.

None of this amuses Harry. Not one bit. The more he thinks about how close these two have become in just a short amount of time –– probably even less than when he and Y/n had first met –– feels like his insides are being wrung like a wet towel. “You know what, give me the blood stew.”

***

Thursday, November 13, 2008

During Algebra, Harry can’t stop himself from glancing her way every couple of minutes. There’s nothing in particular that he wants –– besides for Jasper Daniels to disappear off the face of the earth –– that is going to have to wait, unfortunately. She just has this thing about her, like the way she crinkles her nose when she’s in full-mode concentration, to the way she bites on her tongue when Mr. Daughtry calls on another student when she’s had the answer solved in a fraction of the time, that constantly reels him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever met someone both adorable and attractive bundled into one body.

“Do I have something on my face?” she cocks a brow up. She’s tried to ignore the feeling of his eyes boring into her skull, but she lost the battle with herself that had restrained the desire to gaze back into the emeralds he has for eyes.

“No,” he’s quick to answer back, quietly though (he doesn’t want Mr. Daughtry to have him go up to the board). “It’s just...”

Y/n quirks her head. “Just?”

“It’s nothing,” he gulps, tugging lightly on the knot of his tie. He faces the front of the room and jots down the newest equation on the board, his jaw muscles tense under his skin.

The silence that suddenly arises on his end makes her weary of his thoughts. She gives him one last narrowed look before deciding it would be wiser to let it go. Sometimes letting it go can save an overly curious mind, even one as active as hers. Just this morning, Jeremy had berated her for being too nosey when he had dragged a large box in from the garage. “Don’t you have to be in school or something? Sheesh! Can’t a guy live peacefully without his daughter hounding him? What is this? ‘Ask Dad a million questions’ day?” And all she had asked was if he wanted some help (her dad isn’t much of a lifter).

Pretending to be completely taken with solving for ‘x,’ Harry finally breathes out a softly spoken answer, one barely above a faint murmur. “You’re just really pretty, is all.”

Y/n’s pencil scrapes across the entire page just as she’s about to put a dash across the stem of her seven.

“What did you just say?” Had her ears heard that right? There’s no way she could have mistaken it! Does he really think that? She can practically feel a fire spread across her cheeks and internalize all the way to her erratic heartbeat.

“Fifty! I said the answer might really be fifty.”

Disappointment settles on her features. “Oh.”

***

Things might have taken a turn for the worse for her today. First and foremost, she thinks she might have to get her hearing checked. Second, she received a text from her dad during cheer practice saying that he wouldn’t be able to pick her up on time because Mason’s parent-teacher conference is running behind schedule, and that she should get a ride home with Cici. Well, she wishes she could’ve read his message before Cici had driven off with her brother. She could always wait for her mom to come fetch her, but Olivia’s office doesn’t close until seven today since so many of her patients are coming in with broken brackets (the few weeks after Halloween are always the busiest, apparently).

Y/n sighs, looking down at the time on her phone screen, 5:09 PM, great.

She stands just outside the main entrance, carefully thinking through what she should do now. The school grounds are completely abandoned. With the cold weather comes darker skies earlier in the day, and there’s no way she’ll be able to walk home by herself now that the sun is barely visible above the horizon.

Maybe she will just wait for her mom. The library is open until eight, after all.

“What are you still doing here?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin. “Where the heck did you come from?” she screeches, hand flying over her heart.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes. “I just got out of the locker room. Coach kept me and a few others to talk strats for the championships next week.”

“My mom can’t pick me up till after seven, so I was just going to head to the library,” she replies sadly.

Harry looks back towards the building, a crease forming above the bridge of his nose. “It’s a bit late for you to be here by yourself,” he notices.

“There are probably still people insi–”

“I can bring you home.”

Her lips purse together at his suggestion. A strong gust of wind hits her behind her, her hair blowing around the perimeters of her face. “Is your sister back home?” she wonders while she attempts tame the loose strands.

“Well, no,” he says, a slight hint of embarrassment dripping off the last syllable. “But my bike can hold us both. C’mere.” Taking her hand in his, he leads her towards the bike rack, where his bike stands alone. “See, you can sit right here!” He points to the long top tube just in front of the seat.

“Is it safe?” she can’t hide the apprehension of her tone. Her other hand slides over the cool metal, and her fingers curl around the tube as though to test its durability.

“Completely. And besides...” He takes the helmet tucked under his arm, then places it gently on top of her head. “I would never let anything happen to you.” He sheepishly grins when he realizes how cute she looks.

She touches the top of her head, unable to keep her lips from turning upwards. A soft giggle escapes her as she buckles the chin strap tightly. Harry’s smile only grows wider, and he eagerly swings a leg over the other side and kicks the stand up.

“Take a seat then, milady,” he says with a wink.

Thank god she hadn’t needed to bring so many things in her bag home. She fixes the skirt of her cheer uniform before sliding her bottom over the side of the tube. When she’s finally able to settle on a comfortable position (her choices are limited) she looks to her side. What she hadn’t expected was for his face to be so close hers, the tips of their noses brushing against each other. His eyes stare into her briefly, before shifting a few inches lower, lips parting on their own accord.

Y/n quickly turns her head the other way and swallows. “So, are we leaving now or what?”

His arms envelop either side of her as they grasp tightly on the handlebars. If her cheeks hadn’t already been slightly flushed from the cold air, she’s sure they would be a forbidden shade of pink from the way the inside of her chest refuses to calm itself.

***

As they stroll along Main Street, she soon realizes that maybe –– and just maybe –– she really likes being this close to him, especially when she can feel the puffs of each of his warm breaths on her cheek and on the back of her neck. The tingles reach all the way down to her toes, and she has to remind herself that she can’t fidget too much, or else they might topple over.

“Do you want to stop by Hidden Grounds?” he asks her, slowing down at the store’s front. “I could go for a rose chai.”

“I love Hidden Grounds!” she exclaims, ardently nodding. “But it’s my turn to pay, okay?”

Harry chuckles, shrugging his shoulders as he cuts across the sidewalk and parks next to the building. She hops off and waits patiently as he fishes his chain from inside his backpack. “Just a sec,” he mumbles, eyes brightening when the back of his hand grazes over it.

“No problem,” she muses. After he secures his bike to the railings, he turns to her, dimples set in as he signals to the front.

They’re shocked to see the coffee house being as packed as it is. Almost all of the tables are occupied, and by students from Ashwood, nonetheless! Y/n tenses when she sees Zoey sitting in the far corner with her minions. The redhead spots them, her face contorting as she whispers to the girl on her left. “Hey, Harry!” she yells over the combination of loud voices and music. “Want to join us?” But Harry rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore her. And he thought he had managed to shake her off him. He and Y/n try their best to swerve around the crowds of people to get to the register. Hopefully, they’ll be able to be in and out for a to-go order in less than ten minutes.

As a chair loudly screeches across the floor, Harry swiftly pulls Y/n against him before a particularly rambunctious individual (Mark Jeffries from the wrestling team) can back into them. “Watch it, man,” Harry chides, still holding her close. Both her hands fall just below his bent elbows, her cheek pressed up against his chest. Her eyes are wide when Mark stands up, towering over both of them like a skyscraper. Yet, Harry is completely unfazed. “You nearly knocked her over.”

Mark glowers at him, but leaves it be when he sees the manager come up behind them. “Sorry,” he mutters to her, then signs to his friends to follow him out the door.

Y/n touches Harry’s shoulder. “Let’s go order?” She looks up at him with a soft expression. The harshness in his eyes immediately dissolves and he nods. She turns in his hold, her hands landing atop of his that are on her hips, so not to lose him in the tight spaces. Harry doesn’t bother to hide his elation as they move in sync to the front counter.

***

It’s a quarter before six when they finally make it to her house. Y/n invites him inside to drink their beverages before the tea fully cools down, and he’s more than happy to accept her offer. The ride from the coffee house to her home had been uneventful, but it still managed to make Harry’s heart skip a beat whenever she’d turn to look at him when she had something to say. He thinks he’ll offer to take her home more often.

They find Mason in the living room, Mulan playing on the TV. He’s just at the part where all of China bows down to the heroine. “Mason...” Y/n sings, putting her finger up to her lips when she briefly glances at Harry from over her shoulder. “I have a surprise for you!”

When the little boy cranes his head back to his sister, he’s instantly filled with glee when he sees his new best friend right beside her. “Harry!” He jumps up and runs to him with lightning speed into Harry’s ready arms. “You’re here again?” he gasps when Harry picks him up.

“Of course!” Harry says firmly. “I told your sister that you and I still had to watch Lilo & Stitch together.” He reaches into the takeaway bag in Y/n’s hand and pulls out a smaller bag. “And I even got you a movie snack.” Mason bounces excitedly when he peeks inside. “Brownies!” he cheers. “Thanks, Harry!”

Just as they take a seat on the island stools, Jeremy frantically rushes in. His face full of surprise when he sees his daughter home so soon (he had been upstairs and thought someone might have broken into the house).

“How’d you get here so fast?” he questions.

“Harry gave me a ride,” she answers, taking a sip from her cup. “Yes! It’s still hot!”

Jeremy looks to the boy next to her. “You drive?”

“No, sir,” Harry shakes his head. He seats Mason in the chair on the other side of him “I do have a bike, though.”

“A bike...” the older man repeats. He walks around the island to stand closer to Harry. “What kind of bike?”

Harry licks along his top lip as he places his cup down. “Um...” he thinks. “Just a regular bike, I guess.”

“Describe it.”

“It’s silver!” Y/n offers after she swallows another mouthful of chai.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “I’ve had it for like a year now. I think it’s a cyclocross, maybe a hybrid.”

“What else?”

“Well, I put this Packers sticker on the–”

Jeremy slams his hand down on the table, causing both teens to jump in their seats (Mason is too taken with his brownie to notice). “Did you just say Packers?” He closes his eyes, and a curled fist rises solemnly to his lips. When what sounds like a sniffle erupts from him, Harry and Y/n look at each.

“Dad?” Y/n asks, almost pleading. “Are you okay?”

Her father nods his head, suddenly turning to face away from them. “Harry,” he croaks. “Would you...”

Another sniffle sounds from him. Mason looks at his sister, confusion written all over his face. “What’s wrong with Daddy?” But she honestly can’t say she knows what’s going on. Meanwhile, Harry isn’t sure if he should leave. Was it something he said?

“Would you...” he starts up again. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Harry’s jaw drops.

“Uh...” But he’s completely out of words at the moment, mostly because he truly thought he was about to get thrown out. It’s no question, he’s getting a little fed up with the prepped meals that Anne had left him, and the look on both Y/n’s and Mason’s faces only encourages him further.

With his pause, it’s quiet enough to hear the television in the next room. “Would you like to stay forever?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “I’d love to.”

***

#president!harry #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #one direction #one direction imagine

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constantfluxx · 4 years

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🎶The Evening Earworm Tune Cruise: The SS 200🎶

Port of Call: Cirilla x OC: Reeve! 👸👦 Itinerary: Branle Des Chevaux by Erutan Captain: @constantfluxx (I couldn’t help myself!)

Cirilla sighed, kneeling by the forest’s edge. Fingers outstretched, she pushed around a couple small, loose stones. A small smile touched her lips, fleetingly treated to memories of playing knucklebones in the great, bustling streets of Cintra. Her brow softened, vision beginning to blur - what she’d once looked upon with fondness had grown tainted, re-framed in a new perspective’s lens.

When did life become so tiring? She’d found her destiny at last, but it was... nothing like she’d thought it’d be. Geralt was nice enough, of that she had no complaints. Well, mostly. He was certainly capable, and remained diligent about her safety. But, well...

...he just wasn’t all that fun.

In the grand scheme of things, she supposed it wasn’t really that big of a deal. After all, she was a princess without a kingdom, and as if that weren’t troubling enough she’d been given this great, mysterious power that apparently at least one person out there in the world was after. Really, she supposed she should be thankful Geralt protected her from all that - and kept her regularly fed to boot. It was unreasonable for her to ask for anything more than that, especially when she didn’t even know what that “anything more” would be.

Heeheehee!

Cirilla’s face snapped up, eyes wide. Instinctively, her hand snatched up one of the larger stones she’d been poking, though she didn’t really know what she expected to accomplish with it. Through the pounding of her heart in her ears, she listened, warily scanning the forest stretching out before her.

The mumblings of the quiet town. The trot of hooves along the beaten road. Geralt arguing with the innkeeper about Roach. The rustle of leaves.

Her eyes snapped to a tree. The settling shifting of a low bush betrayed its recent disturbance. She frowned, slowly drawing herself back up to a stand.

She glanced over her shoulder.

“Can’t you waive the stable charge? It’s just the one night! If you want any of our money, you’ll—”

“I’ll get it from some other wanderin’ gripe - someone what has the coin, an’ no wee trouble either!”

Cirilla sighed, looking back to the forest, lush and green and inviting.

It’ll just be a moment.

“Scoutin’ the area for trouble,” she murmured, gripping her stone tight. She took her first footstep passed the edge of the trees. “Making sure it’s safe.”

The leaves crunched beneath her feet. The low branches brushed against her cloak. Warm sun filtered down through the canopy - with her hood drawn, it could touch but the tip of her nose, yet even that was enough to impart small comfort. She searched the trees, but no matter how hard she looked she could find no one else, neither human nor beast. Admittedly a bit disappointed to have come up empty-handed, she sighed and turned back from whence she came.

She frowned. She thought she’d turned, but obviously that wasn’t the case - before her laid only more forest, peaceful and quiet and still. No matter - she turned.

Her heart started to race. More forest stretched before her, just as beautiful as before but increasingly eerie. Her lip trembled, and she took a wary step backwards, and then another, trying to fathom the endless flora wrapped around her.

“Don’t be afraid!”

Cirilla whirled, suddenly coming face-to-face with... a small boy? She hesitated, eyeing him head-to-toe. He seemed young, perhaps a year or two her junior, with a mess of yellow-blonde hair stretching just long enough to brush before a pair of bright, emerald-green eyes. Spotting the points of his ears, she pulled her cloak tight about her, readying her stone underneath. “You’re an elf?” she asked, wondering if she’d once again face the consequences of her family’s past.

He blinked and tilted his head, a world of curiosity leaning him towards her. “What’s an elf?”

She scowled. “Don’t tease me!” she scolded. “I can see your ears!”

“Huh?” he replied, seeming genuinely surprised. His eyes glanced to the side as his fingers idly traced the edge of his ears. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

There was something unsettling about his pure demeanor. It wasn’t right, somehow, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was simply that she wasn’t used to not being attacked anymore? That was certainly a disparaging thought. Her eyes flickered over him again, and she hesitantly ventured, “What’s your name?”

“Reeve!” he happily chirped, all of a suddenly dropping all preoccupation with his ears. He grinned, gazing expectantly up at her with wide eyes. “What’s yours?”

“Fiona,” she replied with zero hesitation.

Reeve grinned. “Liar.”

“I... what?” she gasped. Amazingly, she’d never faced this situation before, and so didn’t have a practiced response for it.

“Hmm,” the little boy murmured, rubbing his chin. He squinted at her. “Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Okay. ‘C,’ huh?”

Cirilla frowned, growing increasingly wary of the odd boy. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Cici?” the boy asked, instantly sending her into a panicked fluster. “Circei? Ciri? Ciri?”

“Q-Quiet!” she scolded, suddenly planting her hands on the boy’s mouth. Her eyes ranged all around them, frantically searching for hidden onlookers.

Reeve simply giggled, reaching up to gently remove her hands from his face. “Don’t worry, Ciri! No one can hear!”

Cirilla flinched, withdrawing her hands and taking a step back from the bizarre boy. “That’s less comforting than it seems you think it is. Who are you? How did you guess my name?”

“I told you,” the boy laughed, “I’m Reeve!” He blinked, and suddenly an incredibly sad expression came over him, his shoulders slumping and his head tilting to one side. “Wait... You haven’t heard of me?”

As far as odd questions went, it certainly wasn’t the oddest, but that didn’t make it any less bizarre coming from some random boy wandering the forest. Her brow narrowed, taking a moment to examine his clothes - a simple brown tunic, and olive slacks cut off at the knee, with no shoes or socks. Despite his humble appearance, though, he wasn’t particularly run-down or tattered. In fact, he looked awfully clean for someone roaming the forest, which really just made her all the more suspicious. “Am I meant to have?” she warily asked.

“Hmm,” he murmured, rubbing his chin again. “No, I suppose not.”

“Are you a royal?” she asked. “Is that how you knew my name?” An alarming thought occurred to her, and she took another cautionary step back. “You’re Nilfgaardian, aren’t you?!”

“Huh?” Reeve replied, utterly unphased by her alarm. “What’s a Nilfgaardian?”

Cirilla sighed - whoever he was, this “Reeve” boy was surely far too clueless to be much of a threat. Not that it made him any less eerie. She shook her head at him. “Listen, you should really be more careful out in the wild. It’s dangerous out here all alone.”

He grinned, and once more Cirilla found herself unsettled by his rampant joy. “It’s alright, Ciri. I just want to play!”

“You... what?” She couldn’t help but half-laugh at the proposition. So much of her recent passed had been consumed with running, hiding, and generally being on guard. The world wasn’t safe, and when it wasn’t safe you had to keep your wits about you. “Reeve, we can’t just... play out here in the forest. What if a monster finds us?”

“They won’t!” he happily replied. It brought no comfort to her, but that hardly seemed to matter to him. He grabbed her hand and started to run deeper into the forest. “Come on!”

Cirilla had no time to protest before her feet were speeding along the forest floor, struggling to keep up with the young, energetic Reeve. “Hey! Wait!” she called. The corners of her mouth curled, and her next breath jittered on its way passed her lips. “Slow down!”

Within minutes, Cirilla was chasing after Reeve, face stretched out into a wide, exhilarated smile. At some point, Reeve’s hand had slipped out of hers, but it didn’t stop her from chasing after him. She’d thought she’d tired of running, but somehow this was different... This was fun! Reeve’s laughter was infectious, and even the birdsong dancing around their heads seemed to celebrate their joy.

“Gotcha!” Cirilla cried, lunging forward to grab Reeve’s shoulders.

With a shrill laugh, Reeve turned just out of reach, her fingertips brushing against the fabric of his tunic. “Nu-uh!”

Cirilla lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. Reeve whirled to face her, alarmed, but to his great relief Cirilla had caught herself just enough to temper the fall. She rolled onto her back, still laughing as she laid upon the ground. “This is incredible!” she rejoiced. “I haven’t had this much fun since...” She hesitated, suddenly growing quiet.

Beside her, Reeve quieted as well, settling into a cross-legged sit beside her. She looked at him, and to her surprise there was a kind of reservation to his smile, much calmer and composed than he’d been earlier. “Since you left Cintra?”

Cirilla sat bolt upright, eyes alight with fury. “How do you—”

“I’m sorry!” Reeve quickly replied, shying away from her and throwing his hands up defensively. “I... I didn’t want to scare you...”

“Scare me?!” she cried. Her panic surged, and she quickly twisted upon the floor to face him. “What’s going on, Reeve?! You are from Nilfgaard, aren’t you?!”

“No!” the boy insisted. “I’m not! I...” His eyes glanced around the forest floor. A young sprout poked through a portion of the grass beside him. As Cirilla watched in guarded curiosity, he reached over and plucked it from the ground, then held it out to her.

Her lips parted to refute the strange token, but her words fell into an awed gasp as, before her eyes, the sprout shivered, then grew, then at last fully bloomed into a bright, vibrant flower, all right there in the palm of his hand. Warily, she reached out and touched the flower’s delicate petals - they were soft to the touch, bending easily against her fingertips. “You’re a sorcerer?”

Reeve grinned. She looked up, and only then noticed his emerald eyes had begun to glow, bright and beautiful and ominous. “I’m a god.”

Slowly, her brow furrowed. At his encouragement, she took the flower from his hand, idly taking to twirling it between her fingertips as she puzzled over his words. “What... do you mean?” she murmured. She wracked her brain, but in no lore she’d ever been taught could she recall hearing of a “Reeve,” nor even any divine little boy.

“I heard you praying,” he admitted, guiltily looking off in one direction. She followed his gaze and to her total surprise saw the forest’s edge, the townspeople still bustling about unawares. “The forest is my domain, you see. You stood at my doorstep, and you wanted to play.” He looked back at her so suddenly it made her start, his expression returned to an overwhelming grin. “I’m good at playing, see!”

She simply blinked at him. Surely, she was being tricked? But... he wasn’t exactly wrong about it all... She had hoped, dearly, for just one moment of being a kid again, and what was “hoping” if not unstructured praying? She narrowed her eyes at him. “So... the forest is telling you what I’m thinking? That’s how you knew my name? And about Cintra?”

Reeve giggled, then stood up and offered her a hand. To prove the point, he replied, “Geralt’s still arguing with the innkeep.”

Surprise touched Cirilla’s expression - she hadn’t said it, but a part of her had been worried Geralt was looking for her. Though she remained unsure just how much she could really trust this boy, and all he was saying, she ultimately took his hand and let him help her to a stand. “I should still get back to him,” she replied gently. “I don’t want to think about what he’d do if he thought someone took me.”

“I know,” he sighed, expression drooping. He thought for a moment, then hesitantly looked up at her. His eyes had ceased to glow, but still the sun gleamed off their brilliant hues - divine or not, he was certainly unnatural. “Did you have fun, at least?”

Cirilla looked down at the flower in her hands. It was a simple question with a deceptively complicated answer. “I can say I enjoyed myself, at least,” she replied, admittedly wary of angering Reeve - after all, if he really was a good, she didn’t much like the idea of getting on his bad side. On the other hand, if the forest was betraying her thoughts anyhow, she doubted she’d fare much better lying to him outright. “I think I need to just... learn to have fun again, I suppose. And that sort of thing is difficult to do when you’re on the run.”

In her unease, Reeve saw an opportunity, his manner encouraged to brighten once more. “Well... would you like to? Learn, I mean.” He planted his fists on his hips and puffed out his chest. “Cuz ‘fun’ is something I’m great at!”

Marveling at how quaint and unassuming Reeve seemed, Cirilla couldn’t help but laugh. “Indeed you are!” Gazing back down at her flower, her smile lingered upon her lips. She pondered her strange experience a moment longer, then softly replied, “Yes... I think I would.”

“Would what?”

Cirilla spun around, wide eyes falling upon a piercing, yellow glare. “Geralt!”

Geralt sighed, reaching out to lay a firm, guiding hand upon her shoulder. “Come on. You can’t go running off like that!”

“I was just—” she began, but when she turned look over her shoulder she saw not but forest, peaceful and quiet and still. She smiled, tickled by the odd boy’s slipperiness, then turned back around and let Geralt lead her back to the town, flower held close to her heart. “Just having a look,” she finished aloud. But silently, her thoughts remained with the forest.

Until next time, my friend!

#The Witcher #Ciri #Cirilla of Cintra #Erutan #fanfiction #writing prompts #fluxx fics #the tune cruise #The SS 200 #Ciri deserves nice things #this took way longer than I wanted #oh well don't caaaaaaare #hope you all like it!

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thunder-the-ranger-wolf · 4 years

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Well I don't know what fics you like to write, but you know how girls are close with their friends and talk about pretty much anything? I was just thinking about a scene where this woman's friend and a casual acquaintance come over to her house. The woman's friend says "I know you said you had someone coming over tonight. Did you mow the lawn today or decide against it?" And the woman says, "I went back and forth on the idea, but I did mow the lawn, yeah". (1)

And the casual acquaintance is just listening and they look out the window to see grass and weeds 3 feet high. They stand there looking confused for a second, but never ask. (2) Anyway that's an idea that popped into my head and it made me laugh.

I’m working on tagging my stuff more appropriately but there should be some stories on my blog. The app page of my blog is different than the site but my page lists all the fandoms I write for! (or attempt to.)

Anyway, this is such a cool idea and I’ll definitely write it.. Thanks for tuning in!

“I know you said said you had someone coming over tonight. Did you mow the lawn today or decide against it?”

Cici was not having a good time preparing for her date and Alex could sense their friend’s frustration even through the phone screen.

“Yeah,” Cici snorted, not entirely convincing as she struggled to tie her hair up with a scrunchie she hadn’t seen since her high school prom five years ago.

“Sure.” Alex deadpanned, scanning the absolute jungle of a lawn their friend’s house sported. “Anyway, I’m out front. You gonna let me in or is The Jungle not taking any visitors today?”

“Fip’s not a jungle, Alex, and yes, you can come in. There should be a path cleared.”

Just as Cici finished speaking, a path of stones sprouted from the grass before her and the overgrown weeds flattened themselves to the ground.

“Thanks!” Alex chirped, not creeped out at all. Ten years of coming to the same house every day meant you got used to stuff like this. It was a wonder Cici ever got out of the house some days, with the inside just as much of a maze as the outside was, and the owner perfectly alright with this.

Not that she ever needed to clean up, since anything Cici needed would be found no matter what.

Alex rang the doorbell to remind their friend that they were there and heard a frantic “almost done, Al!” from the third floor window.

Sure thing, C. At this rate, your date will never take off.

Alex banished the thought as soon as it sprang to mind. Their bad luck charm of a power would not get in the way of their friend finally having a good time.

This house looks a lot brighter than usual,” They noted when the door opened. They stepped in without hesitation and observed the grand hall. Gone was the olf yellow couch with faded patches and bleach stains that would never come out. In its place was a sleek dark grey leather sofa with an ottoman and several dark red pillows. A high-raised coffee table replaced the broken dining room set that they’d begged Cici to get rid of last year.

“The walls are a different color,” Alex noted as they saw Cici slid diown the two-story slide. It turned back into steps the second her feet touched the floor.

“I needed a change.” Cici admitted. “Figured I could let some sunlight into this dreary house.”

Considering the place was an indicator of her mood, it was safe to say that Cici was on an uprise. The downfall would come, and the grey walls with it, but not for a while yet.

“Alright, now let me see your hair. How much product did you put in it?”

This date would go well, even if Alexandra had to will it into existence.

#thunder attempts to write #ask wolf #Anonymous

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necroticblonde-a · 4 years

Note

♧ : Your muse playing with their hair (For Fausta because she needs love)

(♡)

Fausta smiled as she felt Therea’s fingers running between the fine white stands. Her fingertips getting caught on a tangle or two; looking up to look at the older demoness, she said: “I tried to do it myself but it hurt! I can’t get the tangles.” Usually, she’d ask Cici or Ake to brush it for her instead but she didn’t want to rely on them. What was it about the way they didn’t that made dealing with tangles painless?

In any case, Fausta was grateful for any affection. She put her arms up and chirped: “Hug!”

#serpentinebrutality #//CONTENT FOR RAT CHILD!! THE GODS HAVE SPOKEN!!//#//THAT'S!!! HER!!! AUNTIE!!!//#//I meant to answer last night but I died.//#//Thankies Axew fgjdlf//#♡ asks #✄ Interactions

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hazel2468 · 4 years

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She just started meowing like CRAZY and I have no idea why. I’ve heard her do that cute little chirp-thing a few times, but she just full on “mreeeeooowww!”-ed at something outside.

Cici. We’re 17 stories up. What did you see?

#personal #cat #cecilia crow #cici #cat pics #she is MIGHTY cute tho #very chatty today #im loving it

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griba · 3 years

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ok changing my name to apollo now that i found out apollo from aa is short too

#/j but i am actually changing it lol #i still need a url though #gri chirps #*uncontrollable sobbing*#goodbye cici o7 #misc

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scientistgoesboom · 5 years

Note

Talk about your family! Your little nest family of yourself, Perceptor, Deadlock, and Cici!

“Huh?” He seems to be shocked at first, but then his helmfins light up into a cheery blue, nearly bordering on a soft off-white tone.“My nest family? That would be one way to name it, right? Very good idea!”Wheeljack sinks onto a nearby chair, fins still lighting up, his frame relaxed.“Well, First is obviously Percy, my best friend and the poor gal that gets stuck with me most of the time. She is the voice of reason i desperatly need, the calm when I am the storm and the best person you could have by your side in any adventure. I don’t know how she faces all the chaos in the lab, especially when I am there to cause it. She never let me down or forgot about me and if I have a problem, she is one of the first to talk to! I don’t know what I would do without her. I would give my spark for her.”He gives a happy little sigh.“Now Deadlock, i don’t know him well, but he makes Percy happy. And for that he at least deserves my trust and friendship. And over time he showed me that he is nice and friendly, to me. He helps me and is even interested in SARD, I think he really likes my drone.” Wheeljack rubs his neck cables.“I think he would protect Percy and the Bitlet, Cici, with everything he has, every skill in his repertoire he would use for that. And to be honest? It scares me a bit. But I will happily help him in the protecting-business.”He leans back in his chair, his optics glazing over and sparkling.“Cici! The allmighty Ruler, Princess of everything that Matters and Queen of Sparks!” He chirps and his engine revvs into a soft purr. “She is the smallest ant teeniest Bitlet I ever saw. She has all of us dancing to her tunes and we don’t even mind! When she gets older, I predict that she has Dadlock behind her every step of the way, growling at anyone that even looks at her.”He blushes, just visible over the edge of his facemask.“And I will be only one step behind him. I love the Bitlet, she is precious. If my spark would be the price for her to be happy in life, I would gladly give it.”

@microscopicautobot

#Wheeljack #Deadlock #Dadlock #Perceptor #Percy #Circuit #Cici #Nest family

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shewhowantsmouseears · 5 years

Text

Welcome To Spookyville! Chapter 5

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editors, Drucilla and BlueShifted! In addition to all the commas, grammar and other mistakes I tend to make, they also added in plenty of their own jokes to make this nonsensical time extra hilarious.

Well, it's the final chapter, I hope you all enjoyed this odd ride. As experiments go, I think this was an interesting one, but not one I'll revisit anytime soon. As much as I enjoy making people laugh, I do miss writing drama and true love.

Big thanks to my pals Chllstarr, Denise, and Cici, and wayyy too many of you nutty folks who, for years, demanded I wrote more of Witch Minnie and poor Mayor Mickey. I hope this satisfied your craving, you lovable weirdos. Naturally, I also thank all my fans who left comments, reblogged, and so forth - each one means the world to me and keeps me going.

Happy Halloween, again, and may your days be less spooky than Mickey's!

Summary: In the final tale of Spookyville, a villain returns with a nefarious scheme... by using another villain! Are they getting as lazy as the author?

For the final tale in Spookyville, we return once more to the pumpkin-filled park, where our heroes – protagonists? – maybe “main victims” is the best term – were quietly passing the time, waiting patiently for another man's arrival. Goofy had set up a lovely picnic, and Donald and Mickey were eating away, their manners impeccable and their taste buds questionable. As they waited, they discussed the topic of the day – the word “normal”.

Normal is relative in Spookyville. If something happens to you enough times, you might consider it normal for your day to day life. Today, for example, Mayor Mickey found it normal to have received a letter from warlock Mortimer to meet him in the town square for another magic duel. Ever since Mortimer lost Minnie's affections to the Mayor (not that he ever had them [in any universe]), he had tried to take Spookyville over in retribution by challenging Mickey to these ridiculous battles, and had lost in utter humiliation each and every time. Since Mickey's magic was much stronger, and Mortimer's mind was much weaker, these became more like chores than epic duels to the death.

“For a guy who claims to be the best student at his school,” Donald said in-between cookie bites, “he sure doesn't learn his lesson.”

“Maybe we should write Headmaster Scrooge about this.” Mickey picked up a cup of pumpkin spice tea. “I don't want to get Mortimer in more trouble than he's already been in, but if a person doesn't learn from their mistakes, they're doomed to repeat them.” He was about to take a sip when his nose picked up on the fact that this didn't smell like pumpkin at all. He glanced downward, and instead of an orange color in his cup, it was pink, the steam looking like a mixture of a heart and a skull with crossbones. “Speaking of doom that repeats for eternity...”

“Hey guys! What’re you doing here?” Minnie chirped happily, right next to Mickey, holding up a gigantic kettle of love-potion tea, if it could be called that. By this point, the three men were no longer shocked she could sneak up on them with more stealth than your average anime ninja.

Donald held up a small envelope between his fingers. “Same reason as you, I bet.” Mickey silently dumped his tea onto the grass, pretending he didn't see it wither and die.

“AND NOW, THE HOUR OF HIS DEFEAT IS NIGH!” In a puff of hazardous blue smoke, Mortimer appeared before our heroes, flaunting his expensive robes and holding up a brand new spell book. “I wanted the people closest to the mayor to see his ultimate downfall! For this is the day I triumph over him once and for all! He will rue the day he didn’t hand over the town to me peacefully when we first met! Now he will know the true wrath of Warlock Mortimer, the most powerful… are any of you listening to me?!”

Another normality of Spookyville was Mortimer’s dull bragging monologues, so when the blue smoke appeared, the small group did their usual business – Goofy poofing up a brand new pot of tea to pour for the mayor, Donald informing Mickey about the day’s schedule while Mickey tried to arrange the best times, and Minnie clinging to his arm and trying to earn a kiss out of him. Mickey was the first to notice Mortimer had stopped talking. “Oh, uh, sorry. Go on.”

“I challenge you, mayor!” Mortimer pointed a demanding finger towards Mickey, while the mayor calmly tried to push Minnie's face away from his own. “To a magic duel! And the winner becomes Mayor of Spookyville! Do you accept?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” Mickey waved off his group, and they gave him enough space for him to start doing his stretch exercises. “Can we wrap this up a little quicker today? I’m supposed to give a speech at noon for the Ghoul Scouts. They have a new badge for 'Warning Citizens About Minnie'.”

“It's so adorable!” Minnie added, having poofed up a pair of pompoms to cheer for her beloved. “It almost makes me sorry for trying to use their cookies in last weeks plan! At least only fifteen people got sick this time.”

“Your arrogance will be your downfall today!” Mortimer flipped open his book, and pressed his thumb down on the chosen page. “I only need one spell to take care of you!” The page began to glow black with red letters, giving off a dangerous air. “This is the ultimate Summoning Magic! Long has it been forbidden, but I am the one who can tame its invincible power! Take this, former mayor of Spookyville!” The glow of morbid colors swirled together, and then shot out of the book, blasting towards Mickey. The mayor braced himself, crossing his arms in front of him. The blast hit him –

And went right through him. Mickey blinked, not feeling a twinge of pain anywhere. Not even his clothes registered a tear or a fold. The blast was already gone, and for everyone who was looking at this battle, it was as if nothing had happened. Mickey waited a moment, and then clicked his tongue. “… So, uh, are we done here? Like I said, I got a speech to do, and those girls get ornery if I'm late…”

“I HAVE ALREADY TRIUMPHED!” Mortimer declared way too loudly, doing his trademark obnoxious laugh. “Maybe I can never defeat you, but I know who can! You will defeat you!”

“… I wanna say that’s the dumbest thing I ever heard you say, but I’m gunna guess you still got plenty to say.” He rolled his eyes at his opponent’s gloating, but in doing so, now noticed a red swirl floating just about his head. The red swirl turned and turned over and over until it became rectangular, and then it solidified, turning into a red door. The door then swung open, and someone hopped onto the ground.

It was another Mickey – and yet so not Mickey! Unlike the mayor, this Mickey’s outfit was composed of blood rich reds, from his top hat, to his flowing overcoat, and whatever wasn’t red was nightly black and decorated in yellow spider-webs. His hat boasted a proud yellow bat insignia, his spider-web collar popped out around his neck, and even his eyes were red as the fires of hell. He smirked wickedly at those who had gone silent due to being stunned – except Minnie, who had started cheering “Whoo-hoo, two mayors!” after she pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t having that dream she typically had on Tuesday nights.

“Behold, former Mayor!” Mortimer slammed his book shut, now that he was certain in his victory. “I have come across a spell that takes all your worst traits, and creates a second you! All of your sins, all of your hidden evil thoughts, all that you try to hide… that will be your undoing! I deem him… Malice Mickey! Now, Malice Mickey! Destroy my enemy, and make me the new mayor!”

Malice Mickey glanced over at Mortimer, and then stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “Nah.”

“… N-Nah?!” Mortimer dropped his book, unable to believe what he had just heard. “Hey, I just brought you into life! Now go and get me the title of Mayor!”

“Why should I?” Malice Mickey shrugged, and began to take a good look at his surroundings, as the stupefied others stared back and forth at the two bickering. “You said it yourself… you can’t beat me. So I’m gunna take over Spookyville!” He grinned, exposing sharp fangs as devious plans began to grow in his twisted mind. “I’ll flip over all the rules, and make it into my perfect home! No more mister nice guy… this place is all mine now!”

“You ungrateful brat!” Mortimer hissed, trying to pick up his fallen book. “I made you, I can unmake you! All I need to do is go back to that page and-”

Malice Mickey snapped his fingers, and the shadow behind him suddenly rolled around, turning into a horrid beam of pure darkness, blasting right at Mortimer. Unlike Mortimer’s attack, which hadn’t even caused Mickey to flinch, this blast actually did some blasting – Mortimer was now a flat pancake in the walls of the nearby coffee shop. Malice Mickey dusted himself off, enjoying the startled audience. “My powers are of darkness and shadows. I guess you could call it... Malice Magic!” He was evil, not creative. “I can use anything with a shadow as a weapon. So, who’s next?”

“Leave this menace up to us, Mister Mayor!” Donald and Goofy took fighting stances as they stood in front of their mayor, willing to end the problem right there. “It’s still you, deep down! And he has our memories, our loves together, our bonds in his heart! He’ll definitely be reluctant in attacking us! We’ll use our friendship to our advantage! He won’t be able to touch us!”

Six seconds later, Goofy and Donald joined Mortimer as they were embedded into the thick coffee shop walls. “Sorry about that, fellas!” Mayor Mickey called out when the debris had stopped falling. “I promise to give you more vacation days to make up for it!” He ignored the fact that Donald was probably giving him a different finger than a thumbs-up, and faced his opponent. “I ain’t givin’ up my title to someone who’s just gunna cause trouble! You better go back where you came from!”

“Am I supposed to be scared of a goody-two-shoes?” Malice Mickey laughed, and clenched his fists as he prepared for another spell. “You always hold back your real power because you want to protect your precious home… but I’ve got no conscience, no guilt, no shame! This town is mine, right after I get rid of you!” His shadow began to move again, and another attack of sheer darkness was launched at the mayor before he had time to react.

But this attack would not land, as two thin, red magical shields were held up just in time to deflect it. When the pom-pom shields came down, witch Minnie proud stood in front of the mayor, actually capable of protecting him, when she wasn't the one after him. “No one’s getting rid of my Mayor!” she announced with her hands on her hips, and for once in his life, the mayor was glad to be the object of her obsession. “He’s the best mayor Spookyville has ever had, and no handsome madman in good pants is going to change that!”

Malice Mickey carefully studied his opponent, allowing his shadow to return to its normal shape. His red eyes went over her in detail, and then he casually strode up to her, licking his lips. “Mmm… speakin’ of no shame…” He came right up to her, cupping her chin in his gloved fingers. “How’s about when I become Mayor, I make you my secretary? I promise I’m real good at dictation.”

“H-HEY!” Mayor Mickey yanked Minnie back by her shoulders, flustered by a man wearing his face making such lewd insinuations. “This is a Disney Story! You almost made us change the Rating! Where do you get off sayin’ that?! … On second thought, don't answer that.” Minnie, meanwhile, was having a mental meltdown, unable to believe what she had just experienced but very eager to experience it again.

“If you're not gunna use her, why can’t I?” Malice Mickey yanked her forwards, giving her a swift pat on the tail. “And I can think of a lotta uses for her.”

“Get your hands off of her!” Mickey grabbed a hold of Minnie’s hand, trying to get her back.

Malice Mickey grabbed her other hand, and the tug of war began. “Last time I checked, you wanted to get rid of yer stalker. You don’t want her, so I’m takin’ her.”

“J-Just because I don’t want her doesn’t mean you can have her!”

“C’mon, Mins, let’s ditch this loser and have some fun on the dark side.”

“Don’tcha listen to him, Minnie! He’s nothin’ but trouble!”

Back at the marginally destroyed coffee shop, the three victims had managed to peel themselves off the wall and began painfully crawling back to Mortimer’s dropped spell book. “If I can just get back to that page,” Mortimer groaned while on his hands and knees, yet also holding a fresh cup of java. “I can use a counteractive spell and get rid of him.”

“We gotta do it quick,” Goofy whispered so the trio wouldn’t be caught. “Or else Malice Mickey will take over all of Spookyville, and we’re all doomed!”

“Actually,” Donald pointed to the small group of mice. “I think we’ve got plenty of time.” The three of them paused to watch the oddly hilarious tug and pull go on, and judging by Minnie’s deliriously happy expression, she was the one winning the game.

“… So if Malice Mickey is made up of all of the Mayor’s hidden bad traits…” Goofy said slowly as he tried to explain his question. “… Does that mean he actually likes Min-”

“I don’t think the Mayor’s mental state is ready to deal with those kinds of ramifications,” Donald answered rapidly, hoping enough big words would stall Goofy’s intelligence from coming up with any more dangerously accurate lines of reasoning.

As for the game of mice, Malice Mickey swept up a victory by flipping Minnie over his shoulders and beginning to run away with her, manically cackling all the while as Minnie kicked her heels back and forth in confused glee. Mayor Mickey pushed his hat forward, beginning to snarl as he took chase. “After him, men! He’s gunna take Minnie out on a date!”

“And take over Spookyville,” Goofy reminded him.

“That too!”

~*~

Little known fact about vampires – their favorite color is blood red. As a result, they enjoy filling their homes with red things, such as red roses. Daisy Duck was at the flower boutique, hoping to buy a fresh bouquet for her coffin, genuinely surprised she was in another chapter as she had assumed she was a one-chapter joke. This was only slightly less surprising than the roof being ripped off by a gigantic shadow, and a copy of the Mayor hopping down to the floor with the infamous witch in his arms. But only slightly.

“A perfect location for the start of our date!” Malice Mickey decided, as the customers and employees all also decided that whatever was happening, they didn't want any part of it, and promptly left like a stampede of lion-killing wildebeests. “What better way to kick things off than with a boy giving his best girl fresh flowers?” He plucked off a forget-me-now from the shelf, having forgotten-now this wasn't Minnie's favorite. “Can't get anymore romantic than that!”

Minnie cupped her chin in thought as she took the flower. This was a conundrum! “On the one hand, you are the Mayor, sort of,” she explained out loud, plucking a petal off. “On the other hand, I fell in love with the Mayor for his positive traits.” Pluck. “But you're willing to actually hold me and date me and ignore the massive property damage I cause.” Pluck. “But the way Mickey sobs into his pillow at night over the way I dent the city's budget is so adorable...” Pluck.

The door to the shop opened so hard that the cute bell atop went flying, smacking Malice Mickey's hat off. Mayor Mickey and his cronies stood in the doorway, panting hard, having sprinted all the way there. They spotted Daisy first. “Miss! Have you seen my evil clone and my obsessive fangirl?”

“It's a sad state of affairs that there's not a single weird thing in your sentences anymore,” Daisy said as she pointed them in the right direction, before waving to Donald. “Hi babe. Dinner at eight?”

“This time, can I please not be the dinner?”

Malice Mickey growled, putting his hat back on. If he was going to murder someone, he was going to do it with style. “Get lost, dweebs! I'm not letting you ruin my date!”

“And I'm not letting you date Minnie!” Mickey countered.

“And take over Spookyville,” Goofy reminded him again.

“And that too!”

“Then I'll just have to get rid of you the hard way!” Malice Mickey warned, as Minnie had now stripped at least seven flowers of their petals as she continued to debate her boyfriend options. He raised a hand, and began to fire off more blasts from his infernal shadow powers, which were thankfully so vague the author didn't have to think too hard about it.

The trio ducked under a heavy shade of nightshade, trying to go through their options, while Daisy plucked a straw from her purse – if this was going to be a bloodbath, might as well get a free meal out of it. “We're in trouble, Mayor!” Donald stated the obvious. “It's the last chapter, so the writer is going to be extra lazy in an effort to get this thing done and over with! There could be all kinds of badly written plot twists and deus ex machinas!”

“Or a deus ex mouse-ina., Goofy couldn't help himself, and thus felt he had earned it when Donald kicked him into the line of fire.

“We'll just have to make due!” Mickey opened his cape, summoning one of his many doors. “Concentrate on finding that spell! I'll distract him! Open Sesame!” It was a flower shop, so it made sense to magically command a door full of bees! They swarmed Malice Mickey, but not Minnie, because animals have a natural sense not to attack things they know will destroy them in the blink of an eye.

While Malice Mickey yelped and tried to dodge the stream of stings, Minnie sighed, running out of flowers to ruin. “This is really hard! Maybe I should just flip a coin.”

“Great idea, babe!” Malice Mickey grabbed her wrist, pointing down to his shadow. “As the new Mayor, the city's money is my money too! Let's go shopping!” With that, he hopped into his shadow, vanishing along with his stolen bride.

“Oh, come on, that's taking lazy writing to the max!” Mayor Mickey moaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. “If he keeps getting new abilities whenever he feels like it, we'll never be able to stop them!”

“But this book is huge!” Donald held it up, showing off the thick pages and ineligible handwriting. “I can't even begin to find the spell Mortimer used! How can we find the counter-spell before it's too late? Can't we just have the author go back and delete that note, so we have an easier time?”

Goofy sat up, having been blasted to bits by Malice Mickey's line of fire but still having enough strength left over to drop the next plot point. “Well... since he came from the book, what if we just put him back in there?”

Mickey snapped his fingers. “That's brilliant, Goofy! We'll smash him between the pages, like when I used Donald's schedule-book to kill that pesky fly this morning!”

“Exactly! … Wait, what did you do my book?”

~*~

The First National Bank of Spookyville was normally a quiet, boring place, as most banks are. Being a Halloween-themed bank didn't really change that aspect, save for the fact most of the coins inside were chocolate and covered in fake gold foil. Minnie wound up more interested in eating them than flipping them, which only made choosing which Mickey she preferred all the more difficult. It was also difficult to think clearly when Malice Mickey was making so much noise ripping the vault doors open and laughing evilly as he shoved money into his pockets. “Mwahahaha! All the money in Spookyville belongs to me! It's my right to use it however I want! A new mansion, fancy cars, and most expensive of all, a decent phone service!”

The tellers hid in a corner, afraid of this “new side” of the Mayor. “A politician who is actually honest about their corruption... What's next? Celebrities admitting they actually use plastic surgery?! Spookyville can't handle this kind of reality!”

“Spookyville won't have a choice!” Malice Mickey slammed down a bag of cash, before standing on top of it proudly. “New rules for a new Mayor! I'm going to turn this place upside-down and inside-out!Everyone will have to do whatever I say, and I get to do anything I want! In fact, why settle for being a mere mayor? No more elections! No more votes! For my first act, I declare myself as the forever ruler of Spookyville... King Mickey!”

With that settled, Malice Mickey jumped in front of Minnie, ready to win her over. “How does that sound? Simple and Clean, right?”

Minnie “hmm”ed about it, flipping another chocolate coin in her mouth to give a thoughtful chew. “You know, when you walk away, you don't hear me say-”

“Please, oh baby, don't go?”

“No.” Minnie held up a flat hand to stop the musical. “I'm in love with Mayor Mickey, not King Mickey. I'm starting to wonder if you're just too different from the man I want to be with. If I have to think this much about it, doesn't that say something?” Aside from the fact that this story needed to be stretched out.

“But if I'm King, I'll need a Queen!” Malice Mickey threw an arm around Minnie's shoulders. “Think of it – Queen Minnie! What comes to mind when you hear that?”

“Being a laggy Escort Mission?”

“Besides that,” He cleared his throat. “No rules, no limits! You can do whatever you want, to whoever you want, and never suffer any consequences!”

“How is that any different than what I do now?”

Malice Mickey needed a few seconds to come up with a better answer. “Less puns?”

This was, admittedly, a tempting offer. She thought of it while the Mayor and his lackeys once again caught up to the doorway, out of breath and needing to grab a glass of water before they could manage to speak. “Why is it,” Donald said after a haggard breath, “Witches can fly wherever they want, but warlocks have to run? This town is too big!”

“At the next meeting, let's bring up the idea of moving sidewalks again...” Mickey wiped sweat off his forehead before continuing the story. “Hold it right there, you demonic deuce! And stop holding Minnie! Whatever it takes, I will not let you date her!”

“And take over Spooky – aw, forget it.”

Malice Mickey began to stomp forward, irritation clear on his face. “You've interrupted me for the last time, Squeaky and Clean! I'm going to wipe you off the map! My shadows are endless, I can never run out of them!”

“Ditto for my doors!” Mickey countered, holding up his cape. “I never run out of places to send or things to summon! If we want, this could be an epic battle for the ages with intricate detail and breathless exposition!”

Faced with the idea of a never-ending duel of magic, they decided to just do plain old fisticuffs.

“LADY, COULD YOU PLEASE JUST TAKE ONE CREATIVE WRITING COURSE?!”

Malice Mickey launched himself at his better half, and the childish brawl began, mostly with slaps but also with the occasion punch, kick, and bite. Goofy and Donald didn't dare interfere, just because this looked really childish, especially as Malice gave Mickey an epic noogie. Still, the match wasn't going to make any progress anytime soon. After all, they were equally matched, with equal strength, equal weaknesses, and equal stubbornness. This could have gone on all day and all night.

Which suited Minnie just fine, as she wondered if she could get this image to replay for her every morning when she got out of bed. But this wasn't solving her problem.

With great reluctance, Donald inched over to Minnie, holding out the book that started the whole mess. “If we could just smush the evil double into the book, he'd be gone. You're stronger than all of us, by some cruel twist of fate, so could you do us all a favor and get this over with?”

“I don't know...” Minnie clicked her tongue. “It is kind of nice having the Mayor fight for me! Why should I stop this right now? Maybe the other guy can stick around so the Mayor can keep on chasing me! I can't think of anything better than that!”

Both Mickeys heard this loud and clear, and it became clear to the Mayor that there was only one way out of this. He'd have to say the words he had been dreading since he first learned of Minnie's insane desire for him. It was time to reach into the very depths of his soul and pull out his earnest, honest feelings. Men could only hold onto their pride for so long! He knew Minnie better than anyone, so knew exactly what she wanted to hear.

It was time to use... the d-word.

Mayor Mickey kicked Malice Mickey off him, and on one knee, slammed his hand down to the floor. “Minnie! I just have one thing to say, and if it won't change your mind, I'll give up! I promise I'll leave the both of you alone to do whatever PG-13 things you want!”

Malice Mickey snorted, his arrogant nose high in the air. “What could you possibly say that'll make her choose you over me?”

Mayor Mickey inhaled deeply, eyes shut, mentally readying himself. When he opened his eyes, he stared right at Minnie, who was very curious about this turn of events. “Minnie Mouse... If you defeat Malice Mickey... I'll go on a date with you.”

Three seconds of silence passed – Malice Mickey burst into uproarious laughter. “A date?! That's it? You think she'll get rid of me for one lousy date? You must be out of your-”

BA-THONK, apparently, is the sound of a heavy open book smashed into the skull of an evil clone.

BA-THONK!

BABABABABABA-THONKTHONKTHONKTHONKTHONKTHONK-

“I think he's in already.” Goofy timidly suggested, as Minnie continued to slam the magic book down on the space Malice Mickey used to be. Indeed, he had poofed back inside after the first hit, but Minnie wanted to be extra sure, and thus kept banging the book into the floor until there was a certifiable crack in the marble.

Satisfied, Minnie closed the book. “All done! When are we going out?”

“You can't be serious,” Donald scoffed. “He just said that to get you to help out!”

“Now, now, Donald.” Mickey began to stand up, brushing his outfit down and notably not making eye-contact with Minnie. “I am a man of my word. I said I'll go on a date with her, and that's what I'll do. We'll arrange it and everything.”

Goofy placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. “That's awfully considerate of you, Mickey! I think I respect you more than I ever did before!” Even Donald had to admit this was rather amazing, and he felt his soul moved! Both men were in awe of Mickey's bravery!

“So, Donald, arrange a date... for April 31st.”

Both men were in awe of Mickey's cowardice.

Minnie threw her arms around Mickey for a tight squeeze, unable to stop giggling. “Oh, I can't wait! This has made today's weirdness all worth it! I love you sooo much, my Mayor!” With a smooch to his cheek, she twirled around, delirious with joy. “I'll love you forever and ever and ever, no matter what! Oh, I'm so excited, I want to start preparing for it right away!” She stuck two fingers in her mouth, whistling for her flying broom to pick her up. Once she was high in the sky, she waved back to the men, and let out one more long “I LOOOOOVE YOUUUUUU!” as she sailed off into the clouds.

Mickey straightened his jacket. “So, how long do you think it'll take her to realize April 31st doesn't exist?”

“I give it another minute,” Goofy said after checking his watch. “Guess this is just normal for us too.”

“Gives us a good head start, at least!” Mickey tried to see the positive side of the situation, and started to run. “C'mon, fellas! We've got a whole day of dodging and repairing to get through!” Just like every day since he met her, and every day in the future – given the longevity of warlock lives, and the longevity of Halloween itself, he knew this was a chase that would last until the end of time. For one reason or another, this didn't bother him as much as it should.

Fortunately for the rest of us, this story is not as long. So how does one end five tales of ghouls, girls and ghastliness? Perhaps the simplest way is best. They all lived happily ever after, and Mickey married Minnie and had sixteen children and they all lived in a big pumpkin house with eight cats and -

Minnie, get off my keyboard!

#disney #fanfic #welcome to spookyville #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #donald duck #daisy duck #goofy

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