#i think he has earned it (<- both a treat and a threat)

[avid-adoxography]

maybe..,. maybe it's time I finally add Ten Piedad to my f/os list.

But watch out.

[cherie-doll]

Cherie luveeee. Wish you good and healthy, beautiful.

I got someting.

You know those retired dog officers that have been trained for jungkies and bombs?? We adopt them while cod characters are away for deployments, because we're lonely and literal scary dog privileges hehe.

And when they're home, our dog gets alert and quite relentless by the smells until we pay the good officer jerky and 2 ice cubes.

It's messy, but hope you understand what I mean.

Dw i see your vision and tried to execute it

⪩⪨ price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, makarov, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto

No cuz imagine missing that security, yearning for those big strong muscle arms wrapping around you and engulfing your body in theirs >.<

BuT, you’re alone at home, that emptiness roaming the halls and dark rooms as the orange glow of the afternoon sun seeps through the blinds and the most awful melancholy hits you. You grab your keys and go out for a drive not being able to stand the loneliness anymore.

You’re driving around downtown and spot a shelter, you saw a poster on the glass display for cats. Only to walk in and be told that they’ve all been adopted, you’re ready to walk out until a yelp can be heard from one of the kennels and see a German shepherd watching you with his big brown eyes, head laying on his paws. Your heart squeezes and it’s as if you’re made for one another. Without another thought you ask for it and after a few moments you’re walking out with your new companion.

You spend the next couple of weeks bonding with the dog, taking him out on walks and sleeping peacefully on your bed despite your military bf/husband gone because you know the canine sleeping on the bedroom floor will protect you. You even go out a little more often than you would when they're on deployment because you've got your guard dog scaring away those with wrong intentions but is secretly a sweetheart within.

And it isn't until your partner comes back, late at night, that your dog raises his head, ears attentive and listening to the footsteps of heavy boots probably leaving dirt all over the clean entrance hallway and making their way up the stairs to the bedroom. He can sense a strange new smell, much stronger than your subtle scent. The overpowering new scent awakens his instincts and he's at the door in an instant growling and waking you up.

Much to the confusion and frustration of the dog, you're not as wary as you should be. You freely open the door and welcome the soldier who's been away for too long into your arms.

Price would be too engulfed in your embrace to notice the dog growling lowly at him. It would only be when he leans down to put away his shoes and place the duffle bag slung over his shoulder that he'd come face to face with the dog's snout sniffing him over. He'd ask where you got it from and once the dog realized there is no threat they'd get used to each other quickly.

Simon wouldn't appreciate the hair the dog has left on the side of the bed that's usually his. But he commends you for being smart and getting a dog, and not just any fluffy golden retriever, no you got a dog breed he can trust will use the best of their instincts to take care of you. He'll be at ease knowing he's not leaving you alone anymore.

Johnny would have a close call getting bitten by the doggo. Maybe warn him, yeah? But he's all over the dog, petting it, asking what's his name. And he most likely wouldn't get much sleep despite arriving late home. The dog is all excited about a new person in the house and be all over him.

Kyle tries his darn best to earn that dog's trust and convince them he's not a threat. It's not that the dog smells bad intentions from him, he just doesn't like the proximity between the both of you. Noses in between you both while you're giving Kyle a kiss on the lips. After a few treats, he got the dog to calm down and sit at the far end of the room, keeping an eye just in case lol.

Gary loves dogs and tbh he thinks this was a surprise you had planned for him. The dog can't even do his regular routine of sniffing the person because Gary is hugging him, petting and scratching behind the dog's ears. The dog loves the attention though and quickly warms up to him.

Alejandro would get a good scare at this big dog standing in the doorway watching him. Would curse loud enough his mother could surely hear from her grave and rise to throw a chancla at him. He's tired, has had a long drive and in his usual good mood would dote on the dog but not when he's on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. Doesn't even say anything much after that and just grabs you, collapses into bed with you in his arms and falls asleep.

Rudy's first thought is that a stray dog got in and would be concerned for your safety but then sees the collar around the dog's neck and know right away he's part of the family now. And no matter how tired he is, Rudy would still sit there and with the dog resting on his lap, would ask you how you got him, where, what's his name, how you've been feeling after adopting him, etc.

Phillip doesn't pay mind to the dog, even if its growling at him and even baring teeth. Plenty of people do that to him at work, he's used to it. Man has two things in his mind since pulling into the driveway; you and rest. He takes a quick shower, doesn't even bother putting actual clothes on and just falling asleep in a towel wrapped around his waist. The dog just standing next to the bed at Phillip's side, smelling his face curiously.

Makarov isn't surprised to be greeted by dogs at the door because he's probably already owned a few big dogs but they're usually kept outside. Kicks his shoes off, which distract the snarling dog who goes after his shoes only seeing a new toy. He goes right over and starts getting ready to sleep until he turns to face your side confused to see the dog in between the both of you with his shoe in his mouth.

Keegan couldn't care less, he has no thoughts at the moment. His eyes barely register the dog who won't stop thrusting his nose into his face when he leans down to pull off his boots and socks. He just grumbles something and pushes the dog away who follows after him. He kisses you goodnight or hello, he doesn't know anymore, gives the dog a pat on the head and drifts off to sleep.

König the type to just stand there staring at the dog who stares right back at him. Surely, with how sleep deprived he is he must think it's an hallucination or maybe he's asleep and already dreaming. Reaches out, letting the dog sniff his hand and when he feels the warm breath from the dog's nostrils tickle his hand he simply nods approvingly. He'll make friends with the dog tomorrow.

Horangi would probably set off all of the dog's danger sensors because of his nature of doing things. Like he gets home, slams the door shut, his heavy footsteps making their way to you, throwing his duffle bag on the floor and tackling you (lovingly ofc duh) would make the dog think you're getting attacked.

Nikto would start asking you all sorts of question, interrogating you almost. Asking where the wolf came from, why did you get it, did you not feel safe to wait until he came back? He's asking more because he's genuinely concerned and wants to know if something specific happened that made you feel like you needed a dog as big as the one currently stuffing his nose into the pockets of his jacket.

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 10)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

Part 9 | Part 10

Part 10:

Your head felt like it was splitting, you could feel your brain pounding against the outside of your skull.

"Ah shit... everything fucking hurts...." you can barely whisper out loud due to your dried-up throat.

You clear your throat and open your eyes, to your surprise, you weren't left for dead on the street.

Instead, you see two girls hovering over you. One held your hand clasped in theirs, and the other had a spear pointed at your throat.

"Oh my gosh, you're awake! Finally!" The girl holding your hand said, leaning closer to your face. The girl with the spear and an 'X' over one of her eyes squinted at you and nudged the blonde girl back with her spear, "Who are you, and why shouldn't I kill you?"

You try to sit up, but the spear gets shoved closer to your throat before you can move. You sigh, "My name is (y/n). I don't want to hurt anyone. I just... I need help..."

Your answer earns a glare from the girl with the spear, but the blonde girl just nudges her with her elbow, "See, Vaggie? I told you!"

The blonde takes both of your hands in hers, "Hi (y/n), I'm Charlie! Charlie Morningstar and you're at the Hazbin Hotel! We aim to help rehabilitate sinners and offer them a chance at redemption to go to Heaven!"

The girl you now know whose name is Vaggie glares at you, "Are you even interested in redemption?"

You look at both of the girls, "I... I don't know. I'm not so sure but... I don't have anywhere to go and I need help finding someone.." You trail off as you start getting teary-eyed thinking about your love, Alastor.

Seeing you near tears clearly startled Chalie and Vaggie, it wasn't a response they were used to when asking sinners to stay at the hotel.

Vaggie set down the spear, deciding that you clearly weren't a threat. She could see the look in your eyes, one she knew very well- love. Meanwhile, Charlie is sniffling and getting teary-eyed right along with you, "Oh my gosh, we will do everything we can to help you find that person! Who are they, how can we help?"

You look up at the ceiling and then look at Charlie with a weak smile, "The love of my life... I miss him so dearly... I know he has to be here in Hell too." You chuckle lovingly, knowing he'd forgive you if he ever found out you said that out loud.

The floodgates were blown wide open and Charlie started sobbing and wailing, "Vaggieeeee, VAAAGGIEEEEEEE, th-they! They're looking for their LOOOOVEEEEEEEE. IT'S SO BEAUTIFULLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!"

Vaggie walked over to Charlie and scooped her up, giving you a gentle smile, "Hey... (y/n), sorry about threatening you earlier... I gotta take Miss Princess and calm her down, and then inform the other residents of a new arrival. But if you need anything, just give us a holler, okay? You're still healing so... take it easy."

You nod as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, "It's okay... No offense taken... Thank you Vaggie, and thank you Charlie, for agreeing to help me.."

All you hear as Charlie is carried away is the sounds of wailing and crying muffled sounds over the words, "SHE'S HERE FOR LOVE... WAAAHHHHHH, IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL VAGGIEEE!!!!"

You try to sit up again, this time, no spear to bar you from trying to move this time. Your body groans in protest, though it doesn't hurt nearly as much as before, but as you assess the condition of your body, you notice you have bandages all over you. They must have been treating you while you were unconscious.

"Such sweet girls... they didn't even know me, yet they saved my life.... I need to remember to thank them again later.."

Very slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and with a bit of effort, bring yourself to your feet. Hands holding yourself against the wall, you make your way over to what you assumed would become your bathroom during your stay here.

Your hands grip the sink as you look in the mirror when a small doubt enters your brain. You didn't look completely the same as you did when you were alive, which meant you had no idea if Alastor was even going to recognize you. Perhaps he even forgot about you... since it's been so many decades since you've been in Hell. Hell, you weren't sure you were even going to be able to recognize him...

"Enough of this... I'm sure he'll remember me.. he has to..." you whisper to yourself in the mirror as a crooked but tear-stained smile graces your hell-altered face.

After washing up your reddened face from all the tears, you made your way back to your bed. A deep sigh left your body as you plopped down gently on the bed.

Though you can't help but feel restless, as you sit there, just thoughts consuming your head.

In as bad of a shape as you might be, walking around even just a little bit helped you regain a little bit of strength, so you decided to make yourself decent after you had discovered that there was a change of clean clothes for you in dresser in the corner of the room.

Looking at yourself in the full body mirror on the back of the bathroom door, you smiled because it felt good to not look like a hot garbage fire- even though you could still see most of the bandages, at least you weren't all tattered and visibly bloody anymore!

Another deep sigh left your lips yet again, though this one was filled with determination. You turn the handle on the door and exit your room.

In your head, you thanked whoever built this hotel because you were so thankful that there were railings or some type of furnishing to hold onto whenever you felt yourself getting wobbly.

You didn't know where Charlie or Vaggie, or where any of the staff or other residents could be, hell, you didn't even know where the lobby was!

But on that last note, as you wandered around and regained some strength in your legs, you started to have an idea of where the lobby was located because you started to see more light and heard some voices talking.

Might as well go introduce yourself, right? No time better than the present to start making introductions, even if you still felt a little bit like shit still. You felt even shittier just laying around, you felt like if you weren't on the go constantly- you'd never make any headway on finding Alastor.

So there you were, slowly descending the stairs to the lobby when you heard Charlie call out your name, " (y/n)! Oh my gosh, you shouldn't even be up right now! Are you feeling okay??"

A weak smile creeps up on your face as you start to feel embarrassed that Charlie is fawning all over you in front of what seems to be her friends.

You chuckle, "Yeah, haha, just feeling kinda restless and thought i'd introduce myself is all!"

Charlie gently takes your hand and pulls you over to the rest of the group that had been chatting while seated on various sofas and armchairs that were centered around a coffee table- no TV's in sight, just a single radio perched on top of the mantle in this living room/lobby hybrid space.

"Guys! I am honored to introduce you to the newest guest to the Hazbin Hotel, this is (y/n)!!"

"Nice to meet cha, the name's Husk, the bartender."

"Hey there toots, bet ya look mighty fine underneath those bandages. Better not give me a run for my money as most gorgeous resident! Oh yeah, the name's Angel Dust, by the way."

"Hi, i'm Nifty! Nice to- BLEGH, you're a woman! Ew!" Nifty said before cackling as she scuttled away to stab some bugs nearby.

"Well, you already know me and Charlie," Vaggie said as she patted you on the shoulder gently.

"It looks like the only one who isn't here is Alastor. Shouldn't he be back soon?" Charlie said as she pulled out her phone to check the time.

To her, that seemed like such a mundane and normal sentence. But to you, it felt like time stopped and you froze upon hearing his name.

Alastor.

Alastor... here?

-> Part 11

[pleaseinsertwittyurl]

There are always 2 sides.

The discourse around Louis and Lestat being a victim and abuser and nothing more drives me insane.

Something i don't think enough people remember is that the very same reason the fight began in 1×05 (lestat grabbing claudia by the throat when she tries to "take louis away") we see Louis himself do to her in 1×07 when she tries to get Louis to burn Lestat.

They BOTH would harm her rather than live in a world without the other. They are both guilty of abusing her and each other.

There is an implication that a good deal of time passed between Louis and Lestat meeting and the church. Louis expresses that he shares himself with Lestat in a way he only had with Paul. I would assume that goes both ways, to a degree. We know Louis knows at least enough about Nicki to discourage Claudia poking that wound. He also clearly knows that the threat of leaving is his most powerful weapon against Lestat.

Mental abuse is abuse. And Louis abused Lestat mentally for years. Shaming him, ridiculing him, shutting him out, manipulating him into making Claudia (a traumatic moment for him, whether Louis understands the depths of it or not) by promising to give him what he's being denying him, promising to never put him through what he fears the most.

Louis admits to purposely making Lestat suffer. He admits he was warned that Claudia would suffer and he wanted her anyway because he needed to feel redeemed. He is not innocent. He is not a trapped, weak victim. He made choices to hurt both Lestat and Claudia time and time again.

Does this justify Lestat's actions in 1×05? Obviously not. But we now know Louis was not willing to stop the fight. He taunted Lestat the same way he taunted the Alderman. He was unleashing years of frustrations just as Lestat was. His priority was not to protect Claudia, it was to hurt Lestat, consequences be damned.

I hate the drop scene as much as the next person and Lestat has admitted he will never earn forgiveness for what he did. But if you view Louis as some squeaky clean victim who was manipulated, trapped, and abused by Lestat you are missing so much of what this show is conveying.

We will always tend to paint ourselves as the hero of our own story. It is hard to accept your faults or that you hurt people you love. It is much easier to shift that blame on to someone else, to frame them as the villian. But life is not usually that black and white. Claudia had harsh words for them both in her diary, even before they got to Europe, for a reason. They both made hurtful mistakes with her, both treated her like a pawn in their relationship instead of a person, both harmed her, took away her choice, never prioritized her.

That is the great tragedy. That she never had a choice and was not allowed to be her own person. And in the end, they both are responsible for her misery and her death. That's what makes the reunion scene so important. They have been grieving her and carrying that guilt alone, all the while longing for the comfort of the other for 70+ years. Louis has found clarity in his memories, he has accepted his role in their suffering, he has seen Lestat's perspective more fully. Lestat is broken, totally consumed with that guilt and grief. Both know that although they cannot change what they've done, they can forgive the other, even if they can't forgive themselves. They can love each other despite everything they've done to one another because they cannot stop loving each other. But now they can try to rebuild that love from the rubble.

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠. (𝐡𝐜𝐬)

INCLUDES: kazutora hanemiya, ken ryuguji, manjiro sano, hajime kokonoi, hanma shuji, keisuke baji, izana kurokawa

CONTENT WARNING: some misogyny

NOTE: I made these into headcanons, hope you don't mind 🤍 your gang is called 'jotei rengou' (literal translation: empress union) idk it sounded cool

— KAZUTORA.

When Kazutora finds out about your gang, he's surprised, to say the least - and not in a good way. To him, women don't belong in the delinquent world and he'll act hostile towards your gang in response, immediately seeing you as an obstacle to overcome, something to get rid of before it can cause too much trouble.

He has some deeply ingrained beliefs about strength and power so he finds it hard to believe that a women-only gang could rival any of the male-dominated gangs of Tokyo anyway.

However, when a fight breaks out between your gangs, Kazutora finds himself intrigued and slightly impressed by your strength. He watches you, analyses your technique, and he eventually recognizes that you are worthy of your title and are obviously not here by mistake.

He ends up developing a strange but genuine sense of respect and admiration for you — though you'll never catch him admitting that out loud.

"So...you're the girl who claims to be leading one of Japan's biggest gangs?" he looks you up and down. "Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're a woman."

"Ha. I wouldn't expect you to. I've heard a lot about you, Hanemiya. You've got quite the reputation, you know?" you smirked. "But let's see if you can back up that talk with action."

— DRAKEN.

Draken's calm nature leads him to be open-minded and respectful towards you and your gang — doesn't matter if your first encounter is friendly or a little less amicable. He's surprised to see that a gang like yours exist, that's for sure, but he admires your strength and leadership qualities more than he worries about the 'women only' aspect of it.

He probably wouldn't want to get involved with you, though. He's totally against hitting women no matter what, so, with Mikey's approval, he'll try to find a common ground with you and offer compromises that could benefit both sides in order to avoid confrontation.

He might also harbour a tiny crush on you or one of your gang members.... But that's none of anyone's business.

— MIKEY.

Mikey takes you and your gang very seriously right from the start, and he quickly learns that: 1) you're not to be messed with, and 2) underestimating and belittling you would be a huge mistake.

However, just like Draken, fighting and hurting women in any way is a no-no. Not because he doesn't think you're capable of fighting back, far from it, but because keeping women safe has always been one of Toman's top priorities. He'll only fight you if he absolutely has to, that means only if your gang is pure evil or an actual threat to Toman.

On the contrary, if your gangs grow closer over the years, he'll gladly accept a friendly fight with you or your girls.

Although he doesn't really show it, Mikey is very admirative of you — a feeling that only intensifies when he finds out that the Jotei Rengou actually shares most of Toman's beliefs and is really similar to it in multiple aspects. He's also surprised by your strength and strategic thinking, which earns his silent admiration.

It kind of makes him want to welcome women into his own gang.

— KOKONOI.

Koko will treat your gang like any other gang. The fact that you're all women matters very little to him. You know what you got yourself into when you entered the world of street gangs and delinquency, therefore you must know what you're doing and you probably know how to fight back.

Koko immediately sees the power and influence you hold over your gang as you lead and command them, and he soon starts to see you as a valuable ally or potential rival, depending on how your gangs' first interaction unfolds.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by your backstory and your rise to power, because he knows you must've gone through hell and back before people actually started taking you seriously and accepted you as one of Japan's most notorious gangs.

"I don't remember inviting outsiders to my territory."

"I couldn't resist the chance to meet you!You're a hard one to find, you know?" he said, opening his arms and sticking his tongue out. "I've dreamed of this moment, Jotei Rengou."

— HANMA.

The first time Valhalla and Jotei Rengou come face to face, Hanma laughs. He laughs because it's evident to him that you don't belong at the head of a gang, and he makes sure you know how unserious he thinks your 'pathetic little gang' is.

He tries to provoke you by insulting you and your methods, clearly wanting to test your patience. However, he quickly realizes that you're not easily swayed by his manipulation tactics, having no trouble firing back at him.

Hanma finds you intriguing, and although he won't openly admit it, he's secretly impressed by your ability to stay calm and command respect and loyalty from your gang members — who all look extremely hot and badass, he must admit.

Hanma quickly starts thinking about how he could use your influence and power to his own advantage. He sees you as a potential ally or a stepping stone to achieve his goals.

— BAJI.

Baji is absolutely thrilled by the idea of facing such powerful women as opponents.

Though he can't do much without Mikey's approval, he sees this encounter as an opportunity for a great adrenaline-pumping battle. A rival gang is a rival gang, your gender doesn't hold him back in the slightest.

He's heard the rumors and whispers about the Jotei Rengou so he knows how serious you are about this — and although he'll approach you with a his usual cocky attitude, the last thing he'll do is underestimate you. The things he knows only fuels his determination further, and he looks forward to testing his skills against such interesting opponents.

"Well, well, well...what do we have here?" Baji smirks. "The Jotei Rengou and their infamous leader in person. Bold move showing up here, ladies."

"Hey, let's cut the small talk and make this interesting, shall we?" you smirk back, getting off your bike. "I'll show you what my gang's made of, and you boys can try to keep up."

— IZANA.

Izana is intrigued, but he doesn't take your gang seriously. He's heard of you and the damage you've done around Tokyo, but he's convinced that someone else is behind your crimes. He firmly believes that a woman's strength couldn't possibly match up to a man's, let alone his own.

But when you effortlessly take down some of Tenjiku's strongest members, Izana's initial arrogance towards you immediately starts to fade. He finds himself getting more and more frustrated as your fighting style proves to be just as efficient as his own.

Despite being impressed, Izana refuses to let his feelings show. Instead, he starts analyzing your moves, determined to find a weakness to exploit and make you regret ever crossing his path.

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | 18+ only

tags : long fic, porn with plot (but the smut only happens in part 2), prince!xavier x knight!reader, separate from the lightseeker era we know and more of a different royal au, slight angst, hurt/comfort, slowburn ish, mutual yearning, slight miscommunication (well it's xavier…), still has soft fluffy moments though, use of "my prince" "my liege" "your highness" from reader. smut tags to be identified for part 2!

IMPORTANT - this is part 1 because apparently tumblr has a 1000-block limit that won't let me post the entire fic in one whole post...... so please see this link for part 2, or the full fic on AO3 !!

wc : 19.8k total / part 1 - 12.3k / part 2 - 7.5k

an : something probably possessed me, and also this was written while the lovebrush chronicles theme was on repeat lmfao <3 somewhat late but! for @xavmc-week days 1 (knight x royalty), 2 (firsts), and 3 (moon/stars), another royalty fic from yours truly! now IF you're here for the smut... then that's in part 2, but it does work better with the context of part 1 <3

taglist to be reblogged : SIGN UP HERE ; but also special tags for @xaviersknight (WHO INSPIRED THIS ICB YOU IVY) + @star-in-deepspace + @ourlittleuluru for the moral support 💖

ko-fi jar / commissions

With a single word and a gentle touch, you turned a moment into forever.

"Again."

Xavier's tone was even. Even as he stepped back into position, there was nothing different in the way that he looked at you—head tilted slightly in a challenge, an air of anticipation of your next move.

Yet, behind those steely eyes showed a brief spark of amusement.

Xavier had always been the better one with the sword, but it was never a factor to prevent you from being coached by him. In your belief, part of a knight's duty was to learn—You could never be at your best possible ability if you refused to, and you could never be able to protect His Highness when it counted the most. No matter to you that the very subject of your guard was the very one you were trying to best—

It still counted.

And he had always been, thankfully, quite easy to learn from.

Now, in this moment, a gentle spring breeze brushed through your features, and you raised your practice blade with a steady grip.

Again.

Feet apart, shoulders squared.

Eyes focused.

"You're going to bruise," you mumbled. Not for haughtiness to break through in your tone, but enough to give yourself an adequate boost of confidence—you were, after all, his chosen attending knight.

"You say that like it's a deterrent."

Smooth words fell from his lips even at the moment of your advance. Wooden swords met in a sharp clash, a resounding clunk from the impact. Even in his response he acted swiftly—precise movements, not simply like a trained knight, but like someone who had studied and even mastered the art of war with diligence. You could mumble to yourself about how learning under the same master could yield vastly divergent results, and the proof of it would be manifested in the both of you. But at the same time, it was something you knew well. For Xavier, this had begun long before you had taken up your own armor.

Strategic, calculating, intentional. Not a single movement was wasted. Of it all, you thought, it was a quiet elegance well befitting of the crown prince.

However, you'd also like to think that he taught you well.

And there it was.

A sharp twist and a pull earned you your opening, easily allowing to you disarm. The wooden sword in his hold clattered thickly onto the ground, but before he could move to retrieve it, you quickly stepped on its hilt.

Xavier looked up from where he'd dropped to one knee.

His lips quirked; not a smile, nor a threat, but a rather amused notion of acknowledgment. "Is this how you treat your prince?"

Hands on your hips and an air of well-earned victory, you grinned. "Only when he insists on getting himself killed in the yard. May I remind you that this was your doing, Your Highness."

"Well, I could order you to be gentler."

"You wouldn't."

"I could."

"…Hm. And so we can say that I'd pretend to obey."

With a soft chuckle and a shake of his head he stood, the spring breeze ruffling through his hair. Your eyes caught in it—you could marvel at how soft he would always keep his hair no matter how grueling the training, and it seemed in that moment that the way the sun filtered through it made him glow even brighter today.

Even despite the defeat.

"Prince Xavier," you raised an eyebrow, "you wouldn't intend to tell me you'd orchestrated my win, did you?"

"I could never do that."

"But… you go easy on me far too much. You mustn't spoil a knight like this."

"And are there to be consequences?"

That same smile curved slightly at his lips again, and he dusted off his pants. You, in turn, stood still in your place. Even as he moved closer, took a step towards you in a manner completely unnecessary, you hadn't the heart to rebuke him for it.

He was teasing.

"…I wouldn't dream of it, my liege," you mumbled.

And he smiled.

"I'm not going easy on you. The reason for you to stand by my side so often that you do is your own abilities."

A strand of your hair had become loose from your ponytail, and he reached a gloved hand out to brush it behind your ear.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"But you're very loyal," he added softly. "You always have been."

The pause between you both indicated well how much you wished you could say otherwise—and you wished you could. Your loyalties had always been with him, and him alone. Your reasons for staying were him, and him alone.

But you couldn't say things like that, and it was expected anyway that you wouldn't.

Instead when you spoke, it was with the same reverence in your voice as all the other knights. You took a step back before you forgot all that was necessary in your stature, and played the role that laid your loyalties bare for the palace as a whole.

"I serve the crown."

Automatic, like protocol.

Your head bowed, immediately dropping to the knee before him. Moments ago this position had been reversed in lieu of your duel, and you could only seek to erase such a scandalous image from your head. It should only be this way��Right hand tucked behind, left in a fist, crossed steadily over your heart.

A sign of the oath.

For it were the knights who yielded to the royals, and never the other way around.

"Your Highness, you know very well that my life lives only for yours."

And you remembered the first time you had recited it.

Years ago still, on the day of the accolade. You had been officially dubbed a member of the Order—The Lightseekers, as they were so reverently called; an elite force trained to serve the royal household to the death. You remembered the rush of adrenaline as you raised your hand to give your life as an offering:

Here do I swear, by mouth and hand, fealty and service to the Crown and Kingdom of Philos.

Even now, despite your closer relationship to the prince himself, you could never bring yourself to abandon such an oath.

Yet, Xavier tapped you gently your shoulder.

Two simple words:

"At ease."

He bent once more to retrieve his blade as you rose, respectfully dusting it off despite it only being a simple practice weapon. Handing it to you, you realized as you looked at him that his eyes held a strange sort of softness to it—and it was this expression that you had never learned to read. Even after years spent together, it was still one that had never failed to elude you.

"How strange," Xavier mumbled. Quiet, exceedingly so—almost enough for his words to evade you completely. "So do I. But… I find that I care more about the knight holding the sword."

And you could call yourself an accomplished knight.

Despite everything, what he'd said about your abilities rang true—you hadn't been recommended this position, you'd climbed to it yourself. You were acknowledged in the Order as someone who had what it took to protect him; acknowledged in the palace, even, for your very skill with the blade you held.

But of all the shields and all the armor you'd bested in the past, there was one that you could never.

Because Xavier had been like this for as long as you'd remembered.

Quiet.

Dutiful.

How long had it been since he'd freely let himself feel, you wondered?

It had been far too long since then. The first time you saw him cry, he was eleven. A small figure cloaked in midnight velvet—

Standing far too still for a child at his mother's funeral.

You weren't a knight then, not yet. Just a simple commoner, too young and unimportant to be noticed. The entire Kingdom had been invited in service of the Queen, and you were lined up with many others; eyes front, knelt before her coffin.

The royal family had been in mourning.

Yet, Prince Xavier hadn't made a sound.

Quiet.

Dutiful.

Even then he'd carried himself with such an air of elegance; even then he'd resigned himself to display any more vulnerability than was necessary. People came and went, knelt before the Queen and left just as you did. And behind him, you knew—courtiers, maids, assistants—they would whisper; marvel, even.

Because Prince Xavier stood simply beside the coffin, chin lifted.

And he watched.

And he waited.

Perhaps, longer than the others.

Even the King had left, and the halls had closed.

You remembered that day clearly—because the moment he stepped outside of the chapel, his head was down. That crown of silvery hair, a striking feature of all members of the royal family of Philos, stuck wetly to the skin of his forehead. No longer neatly combed. No longer properly styled. And that perfectly-tailored suit had soaked through as he stood.

All preparation of his attendants could be viewed as all for naught, and the clouds surely showed no mercy.

Eleven-year-old Prince Xavier stood, limbs hanging limp at his sides, not even flinching at the slightest rumble of the thunder… His fingers curled slightly, but that was the only remaining hint of movement left, as if he'd long since stopped trying to be.

His gaze remained downcast.

For you, just a little girl in rags for robes, this was a moment unseeming of you to intrude on. You'd understood this to be a private moment for the prince, surely—and even thinking back, you were never quite sure what had compelled you to act. Only that a member of the royal family couldn't possibly be left out of the rain.

So thinking, perhaps, outside of your best interest, little feet padded the steps between you and the prince. You were far more used to the rain than he, you figured. You were far more accustomed to the soil beneath your feet. And with a little bit of a tiptoe, you raised your feebly constructed bamboo umbrella over his head.

"You'll get sick out in the rain, Sir Prince," you'd smiled. As if your umbrella could withstand the rain for long; as if it were truly enough to shield him like a better constructed one would.

But no matter, you'd thought, for the King would find him soon enough.

And blue eyes met yours, and then the rainfall was all you could hear. Words weren't exchanged any further. You only smiled brightly, offered a curtsy with as much elegance as you were able. With the umbrella transferred into his hand, you'd done what you had approached him to do.

Of all the shields and all the armor you'd bested since you'd decided to enlist… there was one that you could never.

You hadn't seen Xavier cry since that day.

That shield—it was standing right in front of you. And you knew that your vow had been made much sooner than the day of the accolade.

Long before he remembered you, you had already chosen him.

Instinctively your grip around the two practice swords in your hand tightened, and you lowered your head so as not to meet his gaze.

I care more about the knight holding the sword.

"My liege… You really mustn't say things like that."

&—

That night, you found him exactly where you thought he'd be.

On the floor of the upper library, ten paces to the right.

This was a location you had marked on your mental map with a star; one of Xavier's most frequently visited night spot.

They called it the high eastern balcony. During the day, it was often filled with various staff and members of the palace itself, yet it tended to be unattended in the evenings. The library you walked past had closed hours earlier in the night; there was little to no reason for anyone to remain here.

Xavier liked the quiet.

You knew him well enough by now to know that.

And so you rounded the corner, the stone ledge of the balcony curved like a crescent moon over the sleeping gardens below. In this blanket of stars and the hush of silver light, it was true that the hour was later than either of you would truly care to admit.

Xavier didn't turn.

He had a hand braced on the balustrade, head tilted towards the sky. His coat was folded beside him—neat, to be tucked away. His hair, on the other hand, was slightly tousled, as though he'd run a hand through it already one too many times. Yet the silence wasn't one to keep you away—it was only one you took as an invitation.

Your footsteps slowed.

"So you were here," you murmured softly.

Walking from the archway to stand beside him, you leaned against the balustrade. The breeze stirred; you gently nudged his coat towards him.

He glanced at you, but he didn't take it.

“I didn’t expect you to come."

15 centimeters apart.

You shifted, aware of how close you'd gotten, and he didn't stop you.

You shrugged; “You’re not hard for me to find. But you should be asleep, Your Highness."

"So should you.”

“I’m not the one with a council breathing down my neck by sunrise.”

“I'm not the one with training drills in the morning.”

Another pause.

This time, the both of you looked at each other, and a soft laugh spilled from your lips. Your shoulders relaxed, your eyes softened. You regarded his figure, then—properly. Took in his form, the outline of the moonlight bringing a different glow to his attire than you'd seen from the sun just this afternoon.

The only reason Xavier so often came to this balcony was to watch the stars…

Because the stars were there to offer him comfort.

"…You've been restless lately," you whispered. You let your words be carried through the wind.

"So you've noticed."

“I’m trained to notice.”

He smiled.

The first time that night, he turned to face you, and his head tilted down—something of another quiet challenge, like he often did with you. Cheeky, still. Boyish, a little. Your heart skipped whenever you thought that you could bring out this more easygoing nature, of the Crown Prince of Philos.

“And if I asked what you thought was keeping me up?” he raised an eyebrow.

"Then… I’d say you were thinking too much about what everyone else wants from you. Or, of you. Things like that."

Just like the little girl who'd run up to offer him her umbrella, you spoke with a conviction, now, that you didn't know you could still have.

A little pretentious for a mere knight to say, you thought grimly.

But instead of chastising you, Xavier only chuckled.

"…Sorry. I mean it's only that, far too often… I always wonder what you think about. If you tense at all the duties that you have, and all the expectations you've been trained to meet from the moment you were born…" Your expression turned feeble as you added, "Prince Xavier often looks like he feels a little trapped. Sometimes, that's what I think."

"Do you think everyone notices?"

"Only if they care enough to, I guess."

"So… you care enough to."

"I… suppose."

Again the breeze passed, ruffling through your clothing.

"Then. Do you also want something from me? Like the others?"

He met your gaze. Held it. It was a silent command for you not to dare turn away in this instant.

"…Of course not, my liege. If I were to wish for something, then it… would be only for more of your own freedom."

You received yet another smile, then.

Yet in that moment, you didn't know, yourself, how true your words were. Whether that was all that you wanted, or whether a part of you still yearned for that something more that you always insisted on keeping at bay. Could you had deluded yourself into thinking it was nothing? Could you had deluded yourself into believing you had no selfish desires of him?

It was an opening for you to speak of it, but you didn't.

You couldn't.

You couldn't, not even to bring yourself to confront them in your head.

Because that was unbecoming of a knight.

Xavier didn't press you on it. Whether he believed you or he didn't, you couldn't tell, but still this time it was his turn to look away. There was a hum as he leaned into his palm, and far below, a lone guard crossed the courtyard. His boots echoed—faint and distant. 

"Do you ever think about leaving?" he murmured. “This.” He nodded out into the gardens. It was a subtle gesture to indicate what he'd recognized to be your own cage. “The castle. The role. The duty. I'm not the only one trapped here."

And you should have expected it.

Often, Xavier would say things like this. The burden of your duty this, the burden of your guard that.

You hesitated—

"No." You could never leave; you were here for him. You wouldn't unless he did. "It was my choice to come here. So then, it's my choice to stay."

With a small shake of his head, he looked away again. "Well, I wonder, sometimes, what I’d be without all this.”

“…Your own duties?"

"Mn."

"I think… then you’d still be you.”

“And, you? Who would you be?”

"…Someone less useful. Probably. Because to me, you're…"

You caught yourself.

Perhaps, if you knew Xavier a certain amount, then it was to be expected that he knew you equally as much. Because he knew exactly what to say to you. If you'd continued… then he'd understand exactly why it was that you'd refused to leave.

You absolutely couldn't be loose-lipped on such a selfish thing.

Your sentence sat unfinished.

But still he didn't push, and that little smile edging at his lips—still at your unwillingness to breach the subject—was his only acknowledgment.

Instead of responding directly, his gaze shifted from the gardens and back up to the sky; you watched as it did. Watched the way his gaze seemed to relax at such a simple motion, the way the galaxy seemed to reflect in the blue of his eyes that you'd come to adore so much. The wonder that filled his expression was always different when he watched the stars. You wondered if the same thing happened whenever you looked at him.

"Do you know their names?" he said quietly.

He didn't take his eyes off the sky, and you shook your head. "Not really. I… I know the Scales, I think, and the… Wolf, was it? The one they say guards kings?"

He scoffed lightly, "That sounds fitting for you."

"Yeah? I always liked that one, but I can never point it out."

Xavier glanced at you then, and then gently reached out to hold you at your wrist. The leather of his gloves was softer than you remembered—but you didn't remember the last time he'd touched you. Not like this.

Your eyes followed, tried not to focus on the warmth of him being so familiar with you—

"Lupus is very faint," he said quietly, "the wolf. It has many stars, so it gets difficult to point it out. But… it's a clear night tonight. So there it is. I think wolves are often associated with protection, and maybe that's why it has a reputation like that."

Slowly he drew your hand up with his, pointing out little stars that formed the vague outline of a wolf.

You could see it only if you squinted.

"…I wouldn't be able to see it unless you draw it out for me," you huffed, and in response to that, he only chuckled before he pulled away.

His touch lingered even then.

Your gaze drew down to his hands.

"Do you… have constellations that you like, Your Highness?"

For a moment he didn't speak.

From the stars and down to you, he too, lingered—you could feel it, the stare; the way he seemed to be searching for an answer that he could only possibly get through you.

"I… used to like the ones I couldn't name."

You blinked, looked up at him.

It wasn't the answer you were expecting, and he knew that.

There was that smile again.

"They didn't owe anyone anything," he said softly. "So I used to think it must be nice, to be nameless."

But I like your name.

You couldn't bring yourself to say it.

Instead you stepped a little closer.

15 centimeters became 5—

Your shoulders brushed. Then stayed.

"I like the ones I can name," you murmured. "Things feel a little more real when you name them. A little more within reach, and not so high up in the sky like that."

A smile peeked at your lips.

"…Right, Prince Xavier?"

This, here—this one was real, too.

&—

You hadn't seen it coming.

The patrol was supposed to be routine—a simple escort through the northern woods after a diplomatic visit, a simple ride past those trees that you had already been familiar with for long. Nighttime made it unnerving, but you'd done this job one too many times. You had never once come across any issues.

…Not until that moment.

The trees had been too still. The birds had been too quiet. And then came the arrows, the flash of blades from under cloaks, the glint of then moonlight on steel—real, real swords this time, no longer practice ones.

Your body moved before your thoughts could form.

A hiss of air; the sound of metal slicing wind… It was this moment you knew what it meant to be a serving knight, and perhaps it was the cold fear of your prince getting injured that had you moving then without hesitation.

You lunged; shoved him hard to the side.

A blade meant for him, fallen only instead to you—

Here do I swear, by mouth and hand, fealty and service to the Crown and Kingdom of Philos.

You hardly remembered what had happened afterwards. Only that you'd been met with darkness far too soon; much sooner than you'd liked to admit.

&—

When you came to, the room you were laying in was dim.

Your vision took a while to focus. This wasn't the silvery light of the moon; it was candles. Lanterns. Two of them, and then the fire in the hearth. Rain tapped softly against the windowpanes, echoing the hush that had fallen since the healers left… You felt faint traces of them, the healers—and undeniably, the pain in your shoulder had lessened.

You blinked and sat up from the bed.

Your bed.

This was your room.

You'd made it back safely.

Nevermind that you were bare from the waist up save for the cloth binding wrapped around you; you felt the way your hair clung damply to your face and neck. Sensation began to creep back into you, and you were very much awake.

Awake enough to notice the figure clad in white, not too far away from you, back still turned.

Awake enough to scowl at him.

"You’re supposed to be at council,” you frowned. A quick glance out the window told you that a day had passed. Several, perhaps. The sun was setting anew; you didn't know, anymore, how long you'd been out.

Xavier, on the other hand, stood by the fireplace, a brand new suit and cloak to sport—

He shouldn't be here.

Yet he turned, anyway, and gave you a cold look.

"They can wait."

You watched as he made his way towards you, sharp steps of his boots on the concrete.

The firelight caught in his hair.

"…You're being dramatic," you mumbled. "I've had the healers, right? And you're not even the one who got hurt..."

"That's not what it felt like."

You watched as he dropped down to a crouch beside the basin, jaw tight, hands red to the wrists.

The silence was sharp.

Uncomfortable.

Xavier was a man of few words, but this was something else. The way that he spoke to you now made you shiver—no longer that kind, gentler prince you knew him to be with you…

Now, he was upset.

You watched him draw in a breath, and then he glanced at you.

“You were reckless,” he muttered.

You didn't answer.

You probably were.

He looked up sharply then as if to emphasize his point, “You could've been killed.”

"No, you could've been killed."

"That’s not the point.”

“Yes, it is!”

You frowned deeper this time, sat up straighter. Dared to meet his gaze. Challenged him.

So unbecoming of a knight, yet you did it anyway.

“That’s exactly the point," you leveled; "I stepped in because that is my duty. Because that way you wouldn't get hurt. And you didn’t—thank God you didn't.”

The tension stayed.

Xavier turned away, rinsed the cloth again, wrung it out with more force than necessary. Water splashed on the stone.

"I had guards,” he huffed, "other guards. You didn’t have to—”

“I did, because you were in danger! I made a choice that I had to, Your Highness, and I'm still your attending knight for a reason."

Again for a moment of pause, he pressed the cloth to your arm. But the silence stung more than the pressure; more than the pain that shot up through your wound.

You didn't wince.

Your jaw tightened, but you didn't wince.

And when he spoke again, his voice was softer—cold, still; upset, still, but… softer.

He kept his focus on your arm.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he mumbled. “Throwing yourself in front of every blade meant for me.”

"You know that as long as they swing, then I'll have to."

"It's not right."

"It's my duty. It doesn't have to be right."

He gave a low sound, almost like a laugh, but bitter. “Then do you always have to be like this? Fearless? Foolish?”

"Faithful.”

That made him fall silent.

The both of you were close, now, just enough to feel his breath as he leaned in to inspect your injury. His hand, gloved still on one side, was warm against your skin. This was the second time you could recall that he'd touched you so tenderly.

It was enough, too, to make you pause. Normally you were so good at maintaining the distance, but this was difficult. His skin was searing to the touch; you felt almost guilty for it.

But you felt it, the tremor. Slight, but still there.

"…You were shaking," you said quietly. "I… I remember. Afterwards. For a moment, I thought I…"

"I didn't like it."

You looked at him, and he gave you one short glance before looking back away.

"I… didn't like seeing you bleed."

You bit your lip.

Again, you recalled what he'd said—I care more about the knight holding the sword. And then something raw opened in your chest, but you swallowed it down.

No.

Now wasn't the time.

And so you waited, in silence, as Xavier finished dressing the bandage with slow, careful precision. His fingers lingered—tender, still, but just shy of affectionate.

You really must be delusional.

The silence that stayed was heavier than any blade you'd taken.

&—

Days passed.

Now you walked through the halls, another morning to start anew. The sun broke clean, and golden... It streaked through the tall palace windows, bathed the stone floors with light. At the same time, there were voices that echoed distantly. Servants, guards… You heard someone in the courtyard call for a stable boy. All just normal occurrences in a day, and you flexed your shoulders as you walked.

You'd healed since then. The gash on your shoulder had long since gone from that evening.

Everything should be normal.

But… some things didn't quite go back to the way they used to.

Polite nods, a shared glance across a room.

You were still around Xavier—you should be; it was required of you. But you hadn't seen him much, not properly. You'd caught him watching you get back into your training, but he hadn't approached; always stayed in his place to look at you from afar.

Polite nods, a shared glance across a room.

Xavier had distanced himself.

You had to think back to your last encounter, those last words. He'd treated you once, that day, and hadn't returned— you knew that he was upset. He never quite told you why, other than clearly expressing displeasure for your impulsiveness that had gotten you injured, but you figured that you could guess. Xavier wasn't good with emotions. You could only surmise based on what you knew that he didn't want to risk seeing you bleed like that by getting closer to you.

And it was to be expected, wasn't it? It shouldn't have bothered you; every knight was the same. In service of the crown, only you had ever gotten so close to the Crown Prince himself.

You should have been just fine without it—

Like everyone else was.

Still his absence left a gaping hole, and though you willed yourself to get used to it, to go about your daily routine as you did without him, it was something else to get used to.

Your footsteps continued down the hall, and you missed him.

And it was such a pretentious thought for a knight.

Yet—

There he was.

You'd rounded the corner.

There walked Xavier, looking decidedly less princely in a simple linen shirt and a travel cloak less fitting of royalty. He hadn't noticed you yet; he had his gaze settled onto the gloves he was still tucking into his belt.

There he was.

It had been a while since you'd had time alone, and you— froze. Could only stand there, like an idiot, and then he was the one approaching.

"You look well," he stopped in front of you. A once-over, and he nodded, one simple regard of acknowledgment. Like he had been doing.

"…Better now, my liege. I've taken up training for the past week, and have since made a full recovery."

"That's nice to see. No more pains?"

"None, Your Highness." Your head lowered. Your throat felt dry when you continued, but you did, still, anyway. "I'm to be at your service once more, if you'll have me. You know… where to find me, if you have something to ask of."

And as if by instinct, as if expecting this to be yet another moment to simply pass you by, you stepped aside.

He didn't move, not this time.

Instead you stood like that, eyes locked onto the ground, noted the dust on his boots—and these ones you realized looked a lot more worn out than his usual.

Then, with something like hesitation,

“I was on my way down to the town.”

You looked up. "I… see."

“They’ve reopened the northern market street. I wanted to… walk it. It seems there's to be many new shops reopened.”

You nodded.

A longer silence.

Then he added, almost too casually, almost too obvious in his attempts at shoving the tension in the air right away— “You could come with me. If you like.”

It had been days since you'd heard him say something similar. Anything similar.

You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips.

"Is… is that a command, Your Highness?”

“It’s an invitation,” he tilted his head slightly. “One you’re free to refuse. But… I'd rather you don't...”

So you did smile, this time. With enough time to look away to hide it, you did smile. Still you weren't sure just how willingly you could take his words, but—this might truly have been the first time he'd addressed you so directly since that night.

You were weak.

Pathetic, almost.

You'd grasp at straws of his affection like your life depended on it.

And when he spoke again, his voice was softer—a little less distant. "You… said that you liked it, when things were named. As for me, I… could use your judgment—" If his voice could nudge, this would be akin to it. "…And your company."

When you looked back at him, you noticed it.

There was a flicker of something boyish in him just then. Dare you say it—hopefully boyish. Not the crown prince, not the diplomatic heir, but a young man with the anticipation of spending a day out in town with…

You.

With you. You gave a quiet smile, “Then I’ll come.”

Fully, then, his expression softened into something warm, and you watched as his shoulders relaxed.

Was he nervous?

“Good," he nodded, "I’ll have horses prepared for us both.”

You realized, then, that the conviction of that little girl—the one who gave him the umbrella, the one so bold as to assume of his struggles… She still existed. She always had. And now, you grasped at the loose fabric of his cloak.

"Prince Xavier."

He looked over his shoulder.

"I… didn't say I'd come just because you asked.”

He held your gaze for a long second, and then with the barest tilt of his head, he said—

"I know."

You could have sworn you'd seen a smile on his face before he left.

&—

The town was alive with spring.

Bright pennants fluttered above cobbled streets, the scent of blooming flowers mingled with roasted chestnuts and freshly-baked bread. Market stalls stretched out in neat rows. Each one seemed to be bursting with color—baskets of fruit, rows of dyed fabrics, arrays of trinkets, and even displays of spice jars… It had been a while since you'd ventured out into town, and you couldn't recall it being quite so colorful. A lute played in the distance, a melody jovial enough for a town square dance. Just a little down the block you could see the townsfolk gathering over to dance, and even the mere sight of it made you smile.

It was so easy here, to forget about it. The duties, the formalities.

You even nudged the man beside you to point him in the direction of the ongoing dance, and you were pleased to see that the smile Xavier was wearing wasn't quite the forced, polite grin he often wore in front of the court.

And Xavier wore his most inconspicuous cloak.

He called it that, anyway.

It wasn't very inconspicuous.

Even browsing through the markets while many were occupied with the dance still drew glances here and there, and you shrank, a little, into your cloak.

"You’re drawing more attention than I am,” you said dryly.

"Oh. Is it the boots? They do shine a bit…”

Oblivious.

"No, you've even dusted them. I'd say it’s more the way you look like… uh, someone who’s never had to haggle in his life.”

Almost as if to prove your point, you watched with a sigh as he stopped at a stall. Honeyed pastries, you noted—not that you knew Xavier to have a particularly sweet tooth, but you let him be anyway.

He held up a coin. "How much for two?"

The vendor, a stout man with a crooked smile, squinted. “For you? Five copper.”

“That seems high…"

You crossed your arms, and at your lack of response, Xavier turned to you disapprovingly. "You’re supposed to back me up.”

Another grin made its way to your face, and an eyebrow raised. "Should I? But this is the real world, my liege.”

Xavier hadn't the heart to argue then.

He handed over the necessary coins, then gave one of the pastries to you with a little frown on his face.

The thought made its way to your head before you could stop it:

Cute.

"You're enjoying this," he mumbled.

“Immensely.”

And wandering through the square proved easy enough.

Every now and then the tune would change, a couple more musicians would join in the fun, and the music would become a little livelier. You and Xavier, on the other hand, took an easy pace—sampling food whenever you could, and pausing to admire the local handiwork on display. So many things were adorable. Though your own room was quite plain and you thought you had little need for trinkets and displays, a smile would show whenever you stopped by one that had caught your attention.

The next time it happened, you'd run your fingers over a bundle of blue-and-yellow blossoms, a striking difference out of the other ceramic paper weights. And Xavier caught your wrist.

"You want one?" he asked quietly.

"I… I don't need one—"

"I didn't ask if you needed them."

Xavier was a man of a few words, but oftentimes it was his actions that shone through the most.

You couldn't answer him.

He bought the paper weight and handed it to you with a little air of triumph—"They're forget-me-nots," he smiled. "If we can find the real flowers one day, then I'd like to give them to you."

You didn't think about how his voice was so gentle; you didn't think about the implications of receiving flowers from the Crown Prince.

Instead, ignoring the skip of your heartbeat, you stared forward.

At the end of the street, the corner rounded into a bookstore that you knew had already been marked on Xavier's itinerary.

You glanced up;

Noontime.

You'd spent the entire morning here, and likely would a couple more hours at this one final stop. Briefly in your head you wondered how Xavier had gotten out of his royal duties for the day, but you didn't question it aloud, you just followed him in.

With a soft jingle, the bell above the doorway signaled your entrance. Immediately the music from town square seemed to drown itself out.

It was quiet here. Serene, almost. And even if you hadn't yet been here before, the scent of ink and parchment washed over you, old and familiar. Naturally Xavier had been drawn towards the back shelves, but you stood a while by the entrance in awe at the vast collection—It was almost as big as the royal libraries.

Separated from Xavier, you were left to browse in silence. Your hand trailed over the spines of various travelogues and maps; various novels, encyclopedias, memoirs…

And then a few few minutes passed by like that before you heard it.

“You have good taste,” came a kind, gentle voice.

It was somewhere off to the distance—you weren't far behind from where Xavier had headed off to, and it seemed to be coming from there.

You heard the flip of a page, then, and a quiet laugh—

"I try," came Xavier's voice next. Cordial, polite, and just friendly enough to engage.

But this was not his princely voice. You knew it well, but perhaps you'd gotten too far in your head to believe he'd only use such a tone with you alone.

The girl laughed, and you quietly approached the section. “You picked one of my favorites! I always hoped someone would notice it. It's been a while since anyone had."

"Really? Then I'm honored."

You saw her, then. Peeked through the shelves to catch a glimpse. A young woman with neatly braided hair stood across from him, sorting a stack of volumes just nearby. She was charming, in a sense—you could see it, from where you were. A little soft-spoken, despite the excitement in her voice, and decidedly friendly. Looking at her like this reminded you of sunlit flower patches, even—of the spring breeze, just outside where you'd come from.

Perhaps, she's…

“I’d… offer you a list of recommendations?” she peeked at him, “but I imagine you already know what you like…"

Xavier shook his head. "Still, I’d be curious to hear.”

It was a scene you couldn't bring yourself to watch.

With a quiet exhale, you put down the book you'd been holding, approached them to give a bow in the woman's direction and a tap on Xavier's shoulder—

"I'll be outside if you need me."

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at her.

Already a knot had formed in your stomach, and you wondered just how selfish you were being.

Best to just remove myself from here.

You didn't listen for Xavier's response before you turned and left.

Outside, the late afternoon air was different; sweeter. You'd spend more time inside than you thought, as now the music had died down, and the stalls were picking up. The street was still warm from the day; children were scattered playing a ways off and kicking a ball through the patches of grass. Lively, in its own way, but a lot… different. As if whatever festival had taken place in the morning had since simmered down into a gentler sun-soaked gathering.

It was calming.

The fresh air was nice—if the bookshop felt like its own little world, then this felt more… grounding.

Off in the distance you could see the outline of the palace you'd come from, and again you would recall what you really were. What you were allowed. What you should.

How pretentious for a mere knight.

You'd gotten so caught up in the day's events that you were right back where you'd started. You were a knight; his knight, sure, but a knight nonetheless. Special treatment be damned.

You traced the paper weight you'd kept in your cloak, and thought—maybe it wasn't even special treatment; the Prince was free to be comfortable with whomever he chose. The Prince was free to speak with whomever he chose.

So, the Prince was free to be friendly with whomever he chose.

It shouldn't even matter to you.

Yet you smiled bitterly, kicked absentmindedly at the concrete. You had to remind yourself—you weren't special; you couldn't be. You were just a knight, after all.

That was all there was to it.

The door creaked open behind you a minute later.

“You vanished."

Xavier's voice.

Again came that tongue of yours without thinking, a sentence you'd dared to utter before recoiling with a wince—

“Didn’t want to interrupt your literary courtship.”

A breeze passed.

One glance at him showed he hadn't gotten a stack of books like you'd expected, but instead carried a single novel.

It wasn't the one they'd been talking about when you left.

"You… think that's what it was?"

He spoke slowly, as if unsure—

You, on the other hand, turned away and spoke too quickly.

“No,” you coughed, “of course not.”

“…Hm.”

He didn’t say anything else.

He just walked beside you again as you made your way toward the stables, steps aligned still, but—

Quieter, now.

And though nothing had changed between you outwardly, you couldn’t quite ignore that same pinch in your chest; so uncomfortable. The sharp awareness of how easily someone else might belong in that quiet, private moment with him—how simple it could be.

Too simple.

As you mounted your horses, you stayed a respectable pace behind him. By now, the sun was dipping low, and it was the close of the day. Neither of you spoke for several paces.

Instead you busied yourself with the streets that faded into fields, the lush green mixing with the tangerine reflections of the sunset. The horses were comfortable; trotting along at your leisurely pace and completely unaware of the awkwardness that had settled between you.

It was Xavier who broke the silence first.

"You know, she only spoke to me because I picked her favorite book.”

You let out a soft laugh. "I didn't say anything."

“You didn’t have to.”

There was no edge in his voice—just quiet observation, a statement offered like a coin left on the table. Dare you say that it was gentle, as if clearly offering to soothe.

How embarrassing.

You closed your eyes, allowed yourself to feel the wind through your hair as you rode past the fields. And then you let out a slow breath.

"It wasn't jealousy."

It was.

"Wasn't it?"

He turned back to face you ever so slightly, and you could have sworn you heard him scoff.

He didn't believe you.

You didn't believe yourself, either.

"Why… Why would I be jealous?" you muttered.

“I don’t know,” he hummed, as if that wasn’t the point, “but it lingered.”

It… lingered?

Something about it twisted in your head—and though you wished, so desperately wished you didn't think it, you wondered, just then, if that moment of jealousy had sparked in him a little.

Did it bother him?

Was this his way of apologizing for it?

You could have scoffed at yourself just for thinking it.

Selfish. Unbecoming. Absolutely out of the protocol.

The horses had trot a little while further, and the castle became clearer in your view.

Then he added, softly; "You don't have to explain it."

And leave it to Xavier to know what to say to you.

You couldn't explain it even if you were asked to, but somehow, that was soothing enough. That was reassuring enough. Such a simple sentence, just a few words—in a way, it placated the restlessness that had settled in your heart. You wondered if that was a good thing or not.

He's too kind, you thought. He's too…

You were grateful, in that moment, that he was still that few paces in front of you.

He couldn't see the small, giddy smile on your lips, the faint blush at the tips of your ears.

He's really, really, truly… the Prince of Philos.

The rest of the ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Perhaps… you'd become too used, to leaving things unsaid.

When your feet touched the cobble of the palace grounds, he spoke again. First, as always; as an invitation for you to follow. "Thank you for coming with me today.”

“…I didn’t mind.”

“I know. But I'm glad you came anyway."

He offered a gentle pat on the top of your head, a light, fleeting touch, before he left.

Your own words stayed on the tip of your tongue.

I was happy to be with you, too.

&—

It became frequent. Sort of a ritual, by now.

Escapes beyond the palace walls; little excursions, here and there. Whenever the both of you could get a moment, you'd simply take the chance. By now, it was a wonder to you that not a single soul had questioned it. The guards stationed at the gate would let you through without thinking; your fellow knights would wave you off when you'd excuse yourself on behalf of the Prince's orders.

Or, so he'd say—

Xavier would find reasons to ride out, and you would be summoned to accompany him, though it was never quite called an order.

Always an invitation.

One you were free to refuse, at any given moment, but you—

You never did.

You never could.

Still, selfishly, longingly, you would grasp at the straws of his affection. At another chance, another moment, to still be with him.

This time, now, it was a simple ride out into the forests.

Nobody questioned the prince's whims. Therefore, nobody questioned you, either.

And so you took the forest trail at an easy pace, your horses side by side beneath the arching trees. It was still spring—the breeze was cool. Flowers littered the path at given moments, and the rustling of the leaves overhead seemed to soothe.

You could recall when all things, had been like this.

And Xavier voiced your thoughts with a hum.

"I missed this,” he spoke, shifting in his saddle as he ducked a low branch. “When it was just sparring, riding, running drills without purpose...”

“No politics,” you laughed.

“No courtiers.”

“Just… bruises.”

He smiled, “Simpler times.”

The forest welcomed you as you rode in further, the canopy above thick with green and filtering sunlight into dapples across the path. As silence settled between you, the birds chirped softly overhead. The horses' hooves thudded rhythmically over soft earth. In this brief moment of respite, you noticed the way your leisurely pace blended seamlessly with the breeze, and Xavier's cloak fluttered lightly.

"You remember though, don't you?" he glanced to you before going on ahead as the path narrowed slightly. "How we used to train here before."

“Vividly. Because you kept distracting me.”

“Me?”

You could hardly believe that he was being incredulous.

"Yes, you! Every time I had a chance at winning, you’d charm a bird into landing on your shoulder!”

“That bird chose me,” he waved a hand dismissively, “I can't control the woodland creatures."

“But you also had a rabbit interrupt us. And once, a deer.”

“That was a noble stag. I remember… he had kind eyes. I thought he deserved a moment of my time.”

“You offered him your apple and called it a diplomatic exchange."

“He accepted, didn't he?"

“And I looked like I was going to win that round, until you called for a break!"

Xavier’s laugh echoed softly through the trees. “You were only grateful for the interruption. You could never beat me with a blade.”

Why, you—!

"Ugh, you just had longer arms!" you cried indignantly. "And better balance! And the annoying habit of being infuriatingly graceful!"

Yet even though you wished to throw a rock at him, the light bickering made you smile. Truly, simpler times. Back then, it was easier for both of you to be close—that even in all your loyalty, you'd felt the presence of a boy, and the friendship of one.

You wondered when exactly that had changed.

"Let's stop here and rest."

Your horses eased to a halt as the trail opened into a small clearing.

This was a clearing you knew well from the earlier days—our enlistment as a knight-in-training; your trainings with the others and especially even Xavier himself. It hadn't taken long for you to rise to a position that had his personal swordsmaster take you in as an additional apprentice, but those days still laid fondly in the forefront of your mind. Now, here, again after so, so long, you let your gaze sweep around. These things were still here. The underbrush was dotted with the same low shrubs that used to snag at your boots during drills, and the worn stumps still sat in a half-circle where your instructor had once set up little sparring exercises.

Just as you remembered.

Xavier dismounted and looked around with you while wearing a small, thoughtful smile, “I used to think this place was the whole world,” he said, running a hand over the mossy bark of a tree. “Before councils and court politics and formal wear.”

“Pff. You hated formal wear back then.”

“I still do.”

Following in his movements, you slipped off your horse and stretched.

Again the quiet, soothing sounds of the forest rang through the clearing.

“…Remember? You also used to say this place was better than any hall in the palace.” The way you said it carried a quiet laugh.

"But don't you?"

"No, no, I do! I mean, even… now, I think. It's just more peaceful here. Something about the quiet… geez, you must be rubbing off on me."

It was Xavier who liked the quiet, right?

With a playful roll of your eyes, you who chose a spot under a tree, leaning back against its trunk to stretch your legs. "Ugh, but I really did try to beat you, you know,” you huffed at him.

“I know.” He looked down, and his smile turned soft. He sat cross-legged across you, fished an apple from his satchel and tossed it over. “You always fought like you had something to prove, even when you didn’t need to. How old were we then?”

“Well it was because I used to get so frustrated when you beat me!" You shook your head, caught the apple and polished it with your sleeve. “I trained so hard, you know? And you made it look effortless!”

“Only because I started much earlier, and you were a new knight-in-training. But…"

Xavier stopped, then.

In the pause, he looked at you—really looked at you, this time, you felt. And when he smiled, you thought you'd never seen him look at you so fondly before. "You were formidable," he added, sincerely. "Even back then. And even now."

His words flowed so easy. Like sunlight, filtering through the leaves.

And the two of you leaned back in silence, staring up at the sky, enjoying the breeze and the quiet moment that you had for your own.

If only… things could always be like this.

Xavier made a thoughtful sound, then.

The both of you saw it—clouds began to gather, and though the droplets had yet to fall, you knew the blue of the sky would slowly drown out into gray.

"…Rain," he murmured.

You huffed in disappointment and moved to sit up.

Xavier was quick to mount his horse. "We’re not far from that old shed," he nodded ahead, "the one near the upper ridge. If it starts to pour, we’ll shelter there."

You could make it, you thought.

And when the rain came down—soft at first, then heavy, soaking them through in minutes—you'd kicked your horses into a light canter, water flicking off hooves and cloaks, until the familiar silhouette of the weathered wooden shed came into view.

Inside, you tied the horses to the sheltered posts and ducked in, breathless and dripping.

He shook the water from his hair. “I guess… we made it in time. Somewhat.”

You wrung out your cloak, glancing around the space.

Outside now the rain fell in a steady hush, cloaking the forest in silver dew. But here, it smelled of cedar and damp earth. The wooden beams creaked softly overhead. It hadn’t changed—rough beams, a dusty cot, and a cracked window that, thankfully despite the spring pour, seemed not to bother them.

A memory stirred.

Not too far from here, the chapel…

Wryly you took off your gloves and leaned them on the windowsill, watching droplets streak down the glass. “So this place is still standing, huh? That’s something.”

He gave a quiet laugh, stepping closer to peer outside.

You watched him, a moment. A memory stirred—if, for you it was something, then you could only imagine how it might be like for him.

"Are you… okay? Being here again?" you tested the waters with a gentle tone. 

Reliving the worst moments of your life tends to be difficult. If he perhaps needed a distraction...

Yet contrary to your expectations, he didn't look back at you, only shrugged, slightly. His tone was even when he spoke. "It's not far from the training clearing, I don't mind. I guess it's only that it's been a while."

You weren't sure if you were thinking the same thing. So instead of trying to push it further, you moved to sit down on the edge of the cot.

The rain continued to patter rhythmically on the old roof of the shelter.

As usual, still, it was Xavier who spoke first to fill that silence.

"The chapel's nearby."

It was then that he turned towards you, and he leaned against the window with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. There was a faint smile on his face. One that didn't quite meet his eyes. "That day… My mother's funeral was held, and it was raining, too."

You looked at him, stayed silent.

"Your hometown. It's not too far in this direction either, isn't it? A small village over to the west."

"…Mn."

"And you joined the knights when you were fifteen." Xavier glanced out again. "When we met, you were already more loyal than the other knights-in-training."

You watched as a faint smile became visible on his lips.

He nodded his head in the direction of the corner behind you—

And when you turned, your breath caught in your throat.

"You'll get sick out in the rain, Sir Prince."

You could hear that tiny voice; the younger you.

Without waiting for him to speak, you stood up; walked towards the umbrella leaning by the wall, picked it up as if it were so fragile it could break at just a single touch.

"You… remember?" you whispered.

There was no way that he could. You continued to stare at it, eyes slightly wide, a frown of confusion on your face—disbelief, in its purest form. You couldn't recall exactly how many years it had been, but though it had meant something to you, you didn't know if could mean something to him.

Yet your back remained turned to him, but you could see him smiling.

"I've never forgotten."

Gently you ran your hand over the now-torn cloth binding the bamboo together. Such a flimsy umbrella. You'd given this to a prince.

"The first time we met," you mumbled, "it wasn't at the hall, when I'd applied, it was…"

"Out in the rain."

He finished for you.

"…Yeah."

This time, you turned. You raised the hand that held the umbrella. "Why did you keep this?"

Disbelief still continued to lace in your voice, but it was a fond one. One that almost made you laugh, one that almost made you utterly at a loss of what to say or really do.

The Crown Prince was full of surprises.

"I mean, you— didn't even know me. How could—?"

Xavier laughed, quietly, and shook his head.

"You took my hand, and you were kind. And then you were the only one who didn't approach me like I might shatter. I always hoped I'd see you again."

And when you looked at him then—truly looked, your eyes settling fondly onto his—you caught sight of it.

In his eyes laid something steady, warm, and unguarded.

"So a moment you think was small can be everything to someone else," you murmured.

Your gaze flitted momentarily to the umbrella as you set it back down, and then you took slow, tentative steps towards him.

“I think,” Xavier laughed softly, “you’ve been by my side longer than either of us realized.”

And my oath began long before I'd taken the blade.

Now, between the both of you, settled a silence.

It wasn't awkward.

It wasn't tension-filled.

It was full of unspoken things, of shared space, of a history now revealed in the low light and the scent of wet earth—

But it wasn't awkward.

Somehow, having the truth out in the open felt as if the two of you had taken a step closer.

Once again, 15 centimeters became 5.

In that moment, Xavier shifted first, stepping away from the window. He shrugged off his outer cloak and crossed the space toward you, holding it out—

“You're soaked."

You stared for a moment.

"You're also—?"

Yet your hands reached for the cloth as if you were physically unable to disobey, and you weighed it carefully. It was— warm. You'd forgotten his was more well-tailored, obviously better off than your own. Only its outer had been wet in the rain, and inside, the wool was still warm from his own heat.

You'd gotten the brunt of the rainfall, but he hadn't.

"I don't have a bamboo umbrella to give," he said lightly, "but this should be enough."

The tone to his voice told you that he was joking, and you couldn't help but scoff. "Won't you be cold?"

"You're the one who's wet. So I'd rather that you don't."

So you folded the cloak over your shoulders and sat back on the edge of the cot, the old wood creaking gently beneath.

You watched—Xavier moved and crouched near the fireplace, then. You couldn't quite tell why he was busying himself; the ash had long gone cold, but he still bothered to sort through what remained of the kindling pile.

When he stood again, he held something small and folded—an old piece of cloth, thin and soft with age.

He offered it to you wordlessly.

Something akin to a cat, when it had caught a prey it was proud of.

The imagery almost made you smirk.

"…Uh?"

"Your gloves," he smiled patiently. "I could at least dry them a little. It's better than nothing."

That smile really does look like a proud kitten's...

You coughed, looked away. Tried to compose yourself. 

What were you doing?

"Your Highness, with all due respect, you shouldn't—"

"No, I'll do what I'm able."

Silence.

You looked back at him, both aghast and a little bit amused, and then you sighed.

An owner never refuses a cat's gifts if she wants to make it feel loved, anyway... Right?

Slowly you peeled the gloves off, one by one. Undeniably, your fingers were cold—again you were reminded that you'd gotten way too much of the rain soaked through your clothes, and you were suddenly grateful for Xavier's offered help. It was as if he knew that when he took them from you, carefully, like they were something delicate, and he knelt by the cot’s frame. Pressing the damp leather gently in the cloth, you watched his hands. Steady, careful, far more patient than you ever could be.

He looked up.

Your eyes met again.

And this time, he shifted beside you, enough at least for your shoulders to touch once more. As if that warmth, from just earlier, was one he would rather not be without.

You breathed in slowly. The moment felt… still. Peaceful, even.

You could, just…

You rest your shoulder right against his.

He'd subtly drawn you closer with an arm around your waist, half to shift you into something comfortable, half to just—

Press his lips into your hair.

It was so light, so subtle.

Barely there.

Yet your heart stopped, a moment.

When you looked up at him, there was one expression you had never quite seen before. One you didn't know how to react to, but one you knew felt more real, and more vulnerable, than all the others.

"May I?"

He didn't ask it out loud, but you could hear it.

And you didn't move—he did.

Leaned in.

Slow, steady movements—like he was still thinking about it, like he was still unsure, but like he still—wanted to.

Your breath caught again. He hadn't leaned in all the way, just enough that your heart stilled a second time, and your fingers curled slightly in the folds of the cloak.

It would be easy. So easy.

If he just moved, a little closer, a little more—

A pause.

He didn't.

Instead of kissing you, Xavier rested his forehead against yours, looked at you in that same gentle, quiet manner that he often did.

A pause in time.

You could feel how close he was; how just a little movement could brush your lips against his.

And then he pulled back with a quiet breath and spoke; “We should get back.”

…Ah.

You gulped down the bile that had formed in your throat, and out of the corner of your eyes you could see the rain beginning to still.

You looked away.

Nodded, once.

"…Yeah. We should."

And the thread had been pulled tighter.

&—

That evening, you weren't quite expecting to see him still awake.

The corridor was quiet, lined with golden light from the torches on the wall, and you'd just passed his door on your way to the stairwell when it opened with a soft creak.

Xavier noticed, called out to you gently. “Are you done for today?”

You stopped in your tracks.

Nightly patrols were so normal, you'd have forgotten that otherwise, you didn't really have the need to pass by here.

Yet when you turned to look back at him, he'd made his way to the doorway, opened it a little wider.

It was rare for you to see him like this. A shirt over trousers, already untucked, sleeves half-rolled, a slight tousle to his hair to give it a look quite unlike the neatly-combed style he wore in the mornings.

This was little less like the prince you knew—even less than the one you'd seen, that day you went out into town together, and even less than the one you do see on your excursions.

Now, that air of elegance about him gave way to a sort of boyish charm, one less looked after, one less coerced into the face that stood in the court.

So rare.

You felt your heart skip a beat the longer you looked at him, and you could have sworn your cheeks had heated up even a little bit.

Xavier had always been handsome, but this was quite something else.

A smile played at his lips as you shyly looked down, and answered, "Yes, my liege, everything's settled now for the evening.”

He didn’t move right away. Just leaned a little against the doorframe, gaze still thoughtfully resting upon you— Then he stepped back and opened the door even wider.

“Do you… want to come in?”

You stopped. Looked at him, blinked rapidly as if you believed you'd heard wrong—

Well, you did believe that, sort of. Xavier had never invited you inside before.

Little peeks here and there, of course, and conversations in the doorway, delivered letters and reports as necessary— but— only his maidservants were ever the ones allowed inside.

That was a privilege even he had never granted to you. Nor, you assumed, any other royal, to any other knight.

This was out of the protocol.

You wondered, then, if a panicked look had come across your face without your notice, because he let out a laugh next—

"Don't worry, you're not breaking any rules. I just think… maybe, we can have some tea together."

Your throat felt dry.

Not in a bad way, but rather, uncertain. And giddy, almost.

Yet when had you really refused him?

You wondered if you were only making excuses for yourself, but he had invited you. And he was right, of course, you weren't breaking any rules, so you could just—

You nodded.

Slowly you stepped in, took a look around a little more properly.

It was much bigger than yours, of course. Much neater, much more well-kept, despite all the fancy beddings and fancy furniture and fancy—well, everything, really. Off to the side, the hearth was low and steady, casting the walls in quiet amber. It all gave off a certain kind of warmth—a certain comfort—despite the way you noticed papers spread across his desk, an unrolled map on the edge of it with markings you weren't well-versed enough to understand.

Cozy.

The first thought in your head.

"I… didn't expect you to be up so late, Your Highness," you scratched your cheek sheepishly. "I hope I'm not interrupting…"

But he waved your concerns away quite casually. "No, I was only pretending to be productive. I've been more of… reading. But I told myself I’d stop after I finished this page, and that was… three pages ago.”

At the sound of his chuckle, you too laughed, and then you found the courage to approach a little deeper into the room. You moved towards a seat near the fireplace, took note of the little pot of tea he'd placed to the side.

You didn't pour yourself one just yet, but it made you smile.

There were two teacups there.

Maybe you were delusional enough to think he'd actually prepared it like this.

"That, uh, sounds familiar," you smiled a little. "I told myself I’d rest after the watch changed—final patrol of the evening and all, you know? But that was before I found the kitchen boy asleep in the armory. With a basket of warm bread.”

He glanced up again, eyebrows raised slightly in amusement. “Did you tell him off?”

"No, he… looked half-frozen. I gave him the cloak off the rack, and told him to disappear before someone less forgiving found him.”

"Kind, though the kitchen may be missing that bread.”

You quirked another smile; shrugged. “I’d be more concerned about the missing cloak, actually. It was even embroidered...”

“Then I suppose that’s a mystery for the morning.”

Another shared laugh.

Yet silence fell again as it was he who reached for the tea. Taking a seat next to you, he poured two—one for him, and one for you, and gently handed it over. The fire was warm enough, you'd thought, but the cup in your hands filled you with such homeliness that you couldn't say anything quite in protest.

Instead, you gave him a grateful smile.

"W- well, I… heard something strange earlier,” you started quietly, swirling the tea in the cup. “The steward was fretting about someone rearranging the seating plan for tomorrow's meeting, or something. Is it so much of an important one, I wonder?"

Xavier made a face. “It seems the case. I walked past the hall and heard someone debating the proximity of the soup course, to a single baron’s allergy. I decided to leave.”

Your smile turned to yet another grin; it was just like Xavier to want to avoid such things.

"Wise, though," you mused. A sip of your tea before you let it rest again. "I suppose they'd have dragged you in for a pointless conversation if you'd stayed."

He laughed, soft and muffled behind his own tea cup, and gave you a slight nudge.

"How are your patrols? I believe it's a new rotation starting tomorrow."

"Yeah, the new roster got posted just after supper earlier." You leaned back a little, let out something like a sigh. Just remembering the discussion it had sparked just earlier made you wrinkle your nose. “One of the guards thinks someone’s out to sabotage him. He’s on the northern courtyard again.”

"Is the northern courtyard so bad?"

"No, just… quite large, and further away. It does get a little boring…"

“Maybe he just draws the short straw.”

You couldn't help the grin that formed on your face. "You know, I did tell him that," you chuckled. “He didn’t like it.”

In that moment, your eyes met briefly across the firelight. It wasn’t a moment charged with anything obvious, but there was comfort in it.

Familiarity.

The quiet that settled was filling, but not deafening, and you both stared quietly into the room as you sipped your tea.

It was only after a moment that he looked down at his desk again, then closed the book with a quiet snap.

“It’s late,” he said. “You should rest.”

The inevitable.

You'd forgotten for a moment that you were in the prince's quarters, and the mere thought of it—the realization of it—caused you to rush up almost abruptly.

"Oh! O-of course, Your Highness, I should let you rest!" You sat down the teacup, brushed your hands on your tunic, "I— I'll get going, thank you. The tea was… lovely."

Yet even as you made brisk steps towards the door, he followed you still. You'd barely even made to push it open, when his fingers caught yours briefly—

“Wait.”

Your heart thrummed in your chest, almost terrified to turn around.

The way he'd said it was so… soft.

Pleading, almost.

Vulnerable.

It had been so long… since you'd ever heard him so vulnerable. You weren't sure if you were even allowed to see.

Yet—

"…Look at me?" he murmured.

And it wasn't an order, it never really was, with him, but… you could never refuse.

Your head turned, slightly, just enough to catch his gaze. Just enough to melt.

"Yes?" you whispered.

And he didn't answer with words.

Instead he leaned forward, slowly, carefully… and pressed a tiny kiss to your lips.

Soft, gentle.

Unspoken, as though it had always belonged there.

Your mind fogged.

You didn’t lean in, didn’t pull away—just stayed there, breathing in the stillness of it, allowing yourself to burn this sensation into your mind.

He's kissing me, you thought.

Prince Xavier is….

You were dizzy when he drew back, yet he didn’t look surprised by what he’d done. He only smiled.

That soft, adorable, gentle little smile.

He let go of your hand.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly.

You felt had barely the consciousness to reply.

"G- goodnight, my prince."

And you turned, left, and the door closed quietly behind you.

The corridor felt longer than usual when you walked away.

The warmth of the firelight still danced behind your eyelids; your fingers brushed absentmindedly over the walls, as though trying to hold on to the moment a little longer.

Your first kiss.

Your first kiss… with the Crown Prince of Philos.

You had to place a hand over your heart; it was racing much too quickly. You couldn’t even quite remember how your feet had carried you out of the hall, the only thing you could was the quiet hum of his voice. The way his lips had felt, how easily the kiss had unfolded—so natural, as if it were always meant to happen.

This was insane.

The candlelight flickered softly in the hallway, casting long, quiet shadows along the stone walls as you continued to walk. With how late it was, your footsteps echoed. Rhythm unsteady, slower than usual—as if your feet were floating above the ground. Given that your mind, too, was drifting somewhere far above the confines of the castle, it made complete sense—

You were in fact somewhere soft. Somewhere warm.

Somewhere with him.

You were still grinning to yourself, and it felt ridiculous by now. Your heart was still pounding, because you had always kept your composure around him, every step measured, every glance controlled, but—

Professionalism? Where would that fall?

Now everything felt lighter, like the rules you'd built around you were suddenly so... unnecessary.

And once you reached your room, you faltered. Shut the door behind you, leaned against it, buried your face in your hands with a barely-contained squeal.

Your fingers unconsciously reached up to touch your lips, and you knew.

Oh, you were so, so, fucked.

:: CONTINUED IN PART 2.

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[genevawrenn]

Landduo is just living rent free in my brain cause where else do you find two immortals who have spent at least three worlds together and they still manage to ramp up their chaotic relationship and this time successfully drag many people into their divorce?

For a bit of context I have followed this duo for quite a while, Foolish was one of the first people I watched regularly from the DSMP after I discovered Techno because Foolish was building the DreamXD statue at the time and I was curious about the server. I didn't see the prior pranks but I do have clear memories of watching Bad add different faces to the statue and building the giant cactus monstrosity in the middle of Foolish's summer home.

My Roman Empire was that fucking stream where Foolish dismantled the entirety of Bad's home and moved it to the new world, it took him several hours and I never found the VOD again [if anyone has it please drop it in the replies, I want to rewatch it].

Like these two have been weird about each other for YEARS lol.

Then we went from DSMP to the QSMP where they only reinforced their dynamic is one not even they know but it screams immortal energy without them even feeding into it too much lore-wise. Because between the threats of bodily harm and banter, they trusted each other with their kids implicitly. Not a single question about if the other would break it, simply they knew they could be sure the other would care for their most precious family members.

Because on some level, they see one another as family. They would never admit it out loud, the moments they show such are as rare as the compliments they pay one another. But they know no matter the world they share, the other isn't far away. The universe delights in placing them together, in spite of everything.

They are rivals. They are confidants. They hate each other. They'd kill anyone else who disrespects the other. Only Bad can kill Foolish. Only Foolish can die to Bad.

Death hungers to feast on Life, and Life willingly gives in each time hoping to hold back the destruction Death can wrought if left unchecked.

The Realm is a culmination of who they are. They dragged everyone into their thousandth divorce, showing parts of their personality they rarely do for the sake of unsettling each other and the mortals they find themselves surrounded by. The factions were always a plan but they were apparently moved ahead [I think I remember Tubbo saying this but take that with a grain of salt] because Foolish rocked up day 1 and declared himself King. Which, predictably, Bad did not like and immediately created an opposition to the faction his rival formed.

But they mirror each other unconsciously; Bad declared Foolish a tyrant and became one himself. Foolish states Bad's heart beats with both kindness and chaos but what was last nights one versus one if not impulsive chaos? After an extensive talk about how the PVP on that server is unsustainable and not quite balanced properly, geared more towards leveling than fighting each other specifically.

They are driving me INSANE man, like I keep seeing parallels and differences everywhere I look, which includes characters like the one Tubbo plays where he feeds into their chaos.

Creation [Tubbo] is encouraging Death to ravage the server and attempt to force everyone to under his rule, Life willing to sacrifice himself to satiate the bloodlust for just a bit longer and perhaps give them a few more moments to think.

Its poetic. It's disorder incarnate. Its the natural cycle of life and death personified.

It's Bad and Foolish, arguing again for the thousandth time but this world is one they have gotten the whole server involved and I agree with Foolish's points last night of yellow and green will never peacefully coexist and at the end of it who will remain standing?

I, for one, don't think its the mortals that have earned their protection. I think it will be the immortals who are treating this world like a playground until there is no sanity or reason left, something to match their dynamic that will forever rage onwards cause that's their form of affection and companionship.

And where else do you find a dynamic like theirs? We don't understand it and neither do they, and that's what makes it all the more fascinating, entertaining, and irritating in the best way.

[kaiserposting]

Kaiser Gets Pelted

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k TYPE: Humor, Bodyguard AU (??) WARNING: None

You’ve known Michael Kaiser for almost two years. He’s your first client, though at the time you got hired he wasn’t as big of a deal.

Despite still being in the U-20 league, Kaiser’s salary is outrageous enough to make him notorious and therefore warrant a security guard. Perhaps yours is even more outrageous, since you earn a criminal amount of money when all you do for a living is tail around this annoying guy.

What makes the scenario of someone putting a hit on Kaiser isn’t his fame or money, though. It’s the fact that he’s murderously unpleasant. Even if nothing of note has happened to him yet, many death threats have been hurled his way. People have become deranged with hatred for him, since he put them, their favorite forward or their cousin back on the bench after a match. For sure you’ll die warding off the hitmen coming for him soon.

Tonight, Ness is not performing the commoner’s task of dragging Kaiser’s luggage along. Instead Kaiser is doing it himself (unusual), so you pull it away from him, which he allows. “Aww, I haven’t seen my pretty princess in three months. Don’t worry, I’ll do it for you-”

“Don’t speak so early into making your appearance,” says Kaiser in the most imperious tone he can muster upon coming out of this flight dishevelled and sleepy. His hair is going up in several directions in ways that have you questioning your knowledge of gravity.

You ignore the physics dilemma. “Hey, Ness.”

“Hello,” he greets back with his usual creepy smile, more so because it’s his way of being polite than anything.

“What’s up? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Did you watch the broadcast?”

“What? The broadcast? No way. I mean no offense, but I don’t want to pay an euro just to see you guys’ stupid mugs when I can barely stand to see you both for free. But like, I mean, no offense though, heh.”

Ness lets out an ‘oh’. Normally he would react differently, but all this means to him at the moment is how unaware you are of everything that’s happened over at Blue Lock.

Coming to the same conclusion and while you’re still oblivious to the tense atmosphere, Kaiser pulls you along, signalling he wants to make his leave. You oblige him, though as usual his demanding attitude is cute on paper and obnoxious in practice, rubbing you the wrong way the way he just decides something and acts on it without consideration towards anyone else. Not that you’re a pillar of cogitation anyway, which maybe makes your complaints hypocritical.

Kaiser’s silence is eerie.

You figure he’s tired from his flight, but usually he likes to posture and instigate, seeking reactions. Now he’s quiet.

The times you recreationally imagined Kaiser speechless, it was a fantasy of zen and reprieve akin to taking a painkiller when you have a headache (as his droning has sometimes caused you these), but in reality you find it unnerving. It’s weird how he hasn’t smirked or made a narcissistic remark in five minutes — unnatural restraint when it comes to Kaiser’s behavior for sure.

You think to ask if he lost or something, but you don’t value your life that little. Besides, getting your head bit off by some football diva isn’t a good look. Instead, you say, “I’m driving you with my car today,” while leading him out of the airport.

“Fine,” Kaiser says, boredom dictating over his intonation. “How has Ray Dark’s asshole been treating you?”

“It’s loose and wrinkled as usual,” you say, although to be honest you don’t talk to that man outside of phone calls and text messages. The disgusting thing you uttered goes unrewarded as Kaiser doesn’t even snort, but to be fair he’s never laughed at your jokes. “While you were gone I had to work with someone else.”

“Mm… Was it another athlete?”

Suddenly, Kaiser’s focus on you is razor sharp. His gaze on you is, again, disconcerting, so you feign ignorance to his strange stare. Though internally you’re annoyed he seems to be, what, trying to use you to spy on other football players? There’s no other purpose for this question you can think of.

“No. It was for the owner of some fancy schmancy building. They had me at the grand hall, it was so boring.”

Kaiser grows disinterested again once you answer him in the negative.

You wander out into the darkness and walk a fair bit, passing by where there’s no crossroad even though it’s moderately suicidal to do so in an area as busy as this.

“Why’d you park so far out? God, the way you walk this area is always so stupid. You had to become a bodyguard because you have no brain.”

“Yeah, I guess you have to be a football player ‘cause you’ve got no brain either. You know what they say, birds of a feather flock together.”

Kaiser doesn’t respond.

“I’m a professional. A close protection officer,” you continue with played up self-righteousness. Again, just because Kaiser thinks you’re unfunny doesn’t mean you can’t amuse yourself.

“More like you’re a designer goon. Fuck off.”

“If something were to happen to you right now, I wouldn’t lift a finger.” You wiggle your pinky at him to emphasize your point.

He rolls his eyes. You can barely make out the gesture with how late it is. “Oh, whatever. I could defend myself better than you could. And by the way, football is a strategy based game.”

“And so could we claim the same for rugby.”

“Don’t talk about fucking rugby to me.”

The two of you end up in front of your car eventually. You throw his luggage in the trunk then lock the car again and lean against the back side to spark a cigarette and smoke it slowly, keeping Kaiser out in the cold out of pettiness.

He wants to go home, but you’re ontologically evil.

He stands next to you to practice his most judgmental, disdainful look while he watches you blow puffs in the air with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The air is somewhat biting and the street lights provide some visibility on this part of the street.

“I don’t see how you’re supposed to protect me if you contract lung cancer,” says Kaiser again, probably trying to get back at you for not letting him into your vehicle before you started smoking.

You blow up another one. “I don’t see how you’re supposed to run across the field with all this secondhand smoke I’m giving you either, man.”

“I didn’t miss Germany in general, but one thing I especially didn’t miss was you.”

You’re about to continue with your no script comedy routine until a car whizzes down the road, the wheels creating such an obnoxious noise when hitting the pavement you can practically smell that fresh parking ticket scent wafting by your nose and you’re not even the driver. However, you don’t have much time for puzzlement because the person inside of the passenger seat screams out an indignant ‘MICHAEL KAISER!’ and something comes hurling out of the open window right towards Kaiser’s face.

Despite your solemn vow to not do your job, on reflex you move your hand out. What hits the back of it and then splatters all around in the air is not deadly or even dangerous despite startling you… It’s more perplexing than anything.

“Ew, what is that?” Kaiser asks, looking at you in disgust as if you decided to smear food over yourself voluntarily.

You blink dumbly. The car is long gone now and you bring up your hand to your nose to sniff in a manner more loud than necessary. “I think it’s kidney pie?”

“Ugh.”

You put out your cigarette and unlock the car. “Dude, your hair is so bad people recognize you at night.”

“There are lights. And besides I’m sure I have a couple, maybe even a dozen fans who’ve gotten a haircut like this just because of me.”

Kaiser reaches out to open the door, but you scream out ‘NUH UH’ and bend forward to open it for him instead, gesturing afterwards. “After you,” you say in a manner you believe comes across as gallant.

He complies and you close the door after him before making the tedious walk to the other side. The pie reeks of urine like it was procured from one of those shady liquor stores that also sell random frozen food. Pieces of it flew to the side of your face and then there’s the mess on your hand up to your sleeve, too.

Once in the driver’s seat you reach around until you find your wet wipes and try your best to get everything away.

“You smell like shit,” says Kaiser conversationally.

“God, I know. I got this suit to the dry cleaner’s ‘cause you were coming back. Can you believe it? The dry cleaner’s. I knew I shouldn’t have washed it at all.”

Throughout your ramble Kaiser stays silent.

“Are you alright? Oh, you have some on your face too.” You turn towards him when you’re done and pass him the wet wipe package. Now you have so much disgusting garbage to throw out.

“It’s not a big deal. Besides, you took the hit anyway.” Kaiser presses his forehead to the window and gazes out into the street forlornly.

“No, I don’t mean about the pie. I mean, you’re just… acting different.”

His eyes return to you, narrowed, glaring with a misplaced sense of petulance at you for asking a common courtesy question and pointing out his bad mood. Without answering and after a few uncomfortable seconds, he goes back to staring out of the window and begins dabbing his face with one of the wipes. What a buzzkill.

Kaiser picks at his cuticles while you start up the car. He doesn’t even complain when you put on some early 2010s hit you know he doesn’t like.

The drive back to his apartment complex is unpleasant. You park, get out, hold the car door open for him and pass him his luggage too. Usually you’d retreat to the car after this point, but now you walk him to the entrance instead.

You know Kaiser lives up there on the last floor in a penthouse he decorated in an ugly way when until a bit before Blue Lock he still lived in the Bastard Munchen dorms.

How funny that sometimes you look at him and you don’t know what to make of him. Is he childish? Is he beyond his years? Acting infantile and sulky, but walking around with a bodyguard and having the mortgage on the top of this overpriced six floor building, earning six figures? Maybe he’s neither, nothing, an in between. It doesn’t matter to you. You were nineteen too, not long ago even.

“You don’t need to worry about me over some shitty pie,” says Kaiser, noticing the change in routine with you following him to the entrance.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just trying to get my daily steps in. I’m aiming for twenty thousand every day from now on.”

You smile at him and wave him off. Kaiser retreats inside after one last impassive stare at you. You think he might’ve been unsatisfied with what you said, but you’re not sure why because you always talk to each other like this.

Later on a cinematic photo capturing the incident leaks and goes around. It’s HD to the point of an uncanny valley element, capturing your pores and dumbstruck faces, the way Kaiser is gawping at you which you hadn’t noticed while it happened.

Articles go around, one of them titled ‘Security Guard Heroically Saves Michael Kaiser From Rotten Pie Attack’. Of course, you can’t brag about how famous you are now to your friends, though, they’ll say you’re a tool.

[thesassypadawan]

Christmas Cookies (Leo x WifeReader)

Summary:  After successfully putting down the kiddos for the night, you decide to use this quiet time to get some baking done.  Too bad your cookie loving husband insists on supervising and taste testing.  But he really can’t make a proper judgement call until he gets some milk to go with those Christmas cookies.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  One thirsty big chooch (lactation), lots of yummy cookies, some cheesy holiday music, making a mess on the counter (in your ‘slutty elf’ panties), hints of a dad bod, and… Leo’s big, fat dick.

Notes:  Happy Holidays, lovelies!  Welcome to track one of my special holiday mix, Christmas Cookies! (This wonderful, amazing request came from @gummifrogs! Thank you so much for letting me write this, I had so much fun!) ❤️💚

- “Oi, big chooch!  Get outta there!”  Jokingly you scold, playfully giving Leo a gentle whack on his knuckles.  On his cute bottom with the wooden spoon.  “Save some for the kids…me…the baby!”

- “Can’t help that they’re so good,” he chuckles between bites.  Big, childish grin on his face; frosting tinting his lips and tongue a faint green.  “Plus it’s those sympathy cravings, mio angelo.”  Boldly going for what has to easily be his twelfth cookie of the afternoon.  “Makes me want to gobble them all…oof!  Hey, watch that thing!”

- Expecting another little smack from the confectionary weapon, you catch him off guard instead with a bigger one from your own plump backside.  “Opps, sorry…”  Taunting, shaking it teasingly as you bend to pop another batch into the oven.  “…wide load coming through.”

- Not able to resist a perfect opportunity, he more than happily gets himself a generous handful.  Earning himself a small squeak in response.  “No complaints here.”  While also helping himself to that elusive Santa shaped cutout he had his eye on.  And a second, just to take make it an even baker’s dozen in his slightly soft stomach.  “Except there’s somethin’ missin’ that would make these taste so much better.”

- Knowing your husband all too well and exactly where this was heading towards.  You figure why not, wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of some jolly fun.  “Leo, I swear to all that’s holey.  If you say what I think you’re going to…”

- However your warning isn’t much of a threat, sort of lacks that certain bite necessary.  When you’re pushing up, grinding against…feeling his fat length harden and dig into your lower back.  Getting the next sheet prepared and ready to go…listening to his muffled grunts the entire time.

- Finished with his treat and, most likely, wanting to just cut to the chase.  He places a big hand on your shoulder, the other on your plush hip.  Slowly swaying you both to that familiar holiday tune, humming above you. “What?  I was only gonna say that they go so much better with some…milk.  Think ya could help me with that?”

- There it was…  “Milk, huh?”  Wiping your palms off on the nearby dishrag, nudging the tray off to the side…before you turn in his hold.  “Yeah, I might be able to spare some.”  Arms winding around his thick middle, as you press your engorged chest into him.  The damp, soaked fabric of your ‘borrowed’ shirt sticking to his.  “But you got fifteen thou-”

- “Deal…”  Not letting you finish and certainly not needing any further encouragement, he grabs your squishy globes.  Hoisting you onto the flour and sprinkle covered counter, like you weigh nothing.  “…ya sure it can only be-”

- “Fifteen…”  Reaching, you break a piece off from a recently iced one.  Pressing it to, slipping it past his lips.  “I don’t want the batch burning…don’t need you drinking all of the twins late night feeding.  Got it?”

- “Got it…”  Happily chewing away, he slots his larger frame between your legs.  Caging you in with a strong arm, leaning in close.  Peppering and smothering your cheeks, nose, forehead in loving kisses.  “Ya have my word…”

- “Promise…”  Lightly calloused fingertips smooth over, caress your adorable tummy.  Leaving behind powdery, white smudges and prints as they come to fiddle…tug at your hem.  Before lifting, pulling it off and up over your head.  Letting it drop carelessly to the tiled floor  “Little mama…”

- Warm palm cups and massages a heavy, tender breast.  Wet nipples pebble from the cool, hot air of your tiny kitchen.  Milk leaking, fat droplets trickling…coating Leo’s long digits.  While you coo, mewl softly…while his kisses trail lower and lower.  “Mmmh, heard that about a hundred times.”

- “Don’t know what ya talkin’ about,” Leo replies not so innocently.  Breath washing over, causing goosebumps to rise on your taut skin.  “All I’m hearin’ ya say is…”  Nose bumping, nudging…tongue swirling, lapping at your sore nub.  “…buon appetito.”

- Like a man parched, acting like he hasn’t had a drink in days…he eagerly latches on.  That all too familiar letdown feeling spreading through your bloated tit as he sucks hungrily.  Head titled to the side so sweetly, blissful look on his handsome face.  Your hand cradling, scratching the back lightly with your festive nails.  “Yeah, yeah…”

- It takes just a few pulls from his greedy mouth for that warm, tingling sensation to start growing.  Small gasp escaping you, low groan from him.  The kind that rumbles in his chest, into you…straight to your trembling, fluttering cunny. Rich cream filling, spreading across his tastebuds with each deep draw.  “Buon…”

- Head lulls back, soft pants fall from your lips.  Shivers and sparks of pleasure running rampant, erupting throughout your overly sensitive body.  From his fingers circling your other, neglected bud.  Teasing out a few milky beads that plop onto, roll down the swell of your bump.  “Appetito…”

- Each rhythmic pull and suckle pushes you closer to that orgasmic edge.  Floods your system with all those lovely endorphins.  That cloud and fog your hormone, addled brain.  Causes you to be hot and sticky in more ways than one.  Digits tangling in those short, dark locks…silently coaxing him on, to keep drinking.  “Amore mio…”

- And right as you’re about to reach that blinding apex.  Create a pretty mess on the counter and in those ‘slutty elf’ panties of yours.  Air fills with the timer’s happy beeps.  Your frustrated huffs from being left half full.  The wet pop when he releases your puffy, soggy nipple…

- “That’s it, sugar…out of time,” he mutters.  Gazing up at you with those sparkling blue eyes, mischievous glint sparkling in them.  Clearly enjoying, taking amusement from your flushed face and flustered expression.  “But I got an idea for ya.”

- Licking his lips, his digits clean.  “How about we pop another batch in the oven…”  Slowly, savoring…making sure to get every last drop.  “Get another fifteen for some kissin’ and a huggin’.”

- Shakily grabbing the prepped sheet next to, pushing it into his hands.  You let out an exasperated giggle, returning his naughty look.  “And that’s why you eat Christmas cookies all year long.”

Tag Lists: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @kenobiskywalkerkestis, @loverforoldermen, @lunarnightt, @adorbzliz, @ahano, @kenmaiica, @freezerbride95,  @lunarnightt, @jediavengers, @anakinstwinklebunny, @anisangeldust, @xhunnybeeex, @abaker74, @ashleypalm23-blog, @dazednstars141, @roseannekunpmook, @thesmexymenace, @lotte08, @t03soup, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @starsoldier077, @adorbzliz, @dumb-slut-things, @nightwingtheslut, @blackstabbath6, @lisabang3184, @radiantvader, @ahano, @haydenlovers, @sfrassblog, @cjlovesreadingxx, @cutesykuromi, @byunnue, @bigwagonbananabat, @andromachet, @meldelrey-slay, @maryisalittlelambb ,@chrsitine, @theoriginalsinner28, @immakingjokessoidontdrown, @selkie072, @polly-xo, @aniisbae, @jualala, @your-average-fan-girl, @sammonroesslut, @anakinsversion, @jedaweda, @jazzshsworld, @mellowcreationobservation, @angelicodette, @ter-luer, @c0bra-bubbl3s, @lostboys1987girl, @violetiss3lfish, @jarofer, @exeisdeadlol, @deathst9rs,  @cocobear18, @emloveshs, @jennasco, @pumpkinspice166, @fallen--raven, @jewjewbee04, @xx-ttamaraa, @generalgalaxyfury, @harley-kalani

  @hearts4sammonroe, @pitas-star, @sythethecarrot, @naberriess, @steven-grants-world, @valyna27, @elcaballerodragon, @yayyy5678, @anakinsrilgirlfriend, @padme-urlove,  @brattyyybbg

[firelxdykatara]

Do you ever find it slightly weird how Zuko freeing Aang as the Blue Spirit is treated by the fandom as the first sign of him being good, when actually it's sort of one of the most morally bankrupt things he does (competing with stealing from Song and siding with Azula when he already kind of knows the war is wrong). Like, it's actually pretty similar to the siding with Azula thing, because it's him placing his personal desires to go home over what he should think is the good of the world. In S1, he should believe that the Fire Nation capturing the Avatar is a moral good, even if he loses his shot at going him.

To play Zuko's advocate, it's possible that at that point he just didn't see Aang as very much of a threat to the Fire Nation/was incredibly overconfident about his odds of keeping Aang captured, but... it just strikes me as weird how the Blue Spirit is treated as Zuko's better side, when in most cases (other than freeing Appa) it seems to be his worse one.

Anyways, just some thoughts that I was curious what you might say about, since I generally like your ATLA metas.

Oh no this is super interesting! I've thought about it before but not quite in these terms, and I think it really does illustrate a fascinating disconnect between the result of an action and the intent behind that action, and therefore what it means for Zuko's characterization and its purpose in his overall growth.

Because you're absolutely right! Zuko was not actually attempting to 'free' Aang from Zhao. He was attempting to steal him.

That the net result was Aang being able to escape and return to his friends doesn't actually translate to Zuko having used the Blue Spirit persona to help him. Particularly because Zuko was not trying to save Aang from Zhao, even though it's easy to think that way since visually, Zhao presents a much more severe threat--in large part because he shows up immediately after the opening episodes to be the true villain of Book 1 and act as an antagonistic force not just for the gaang but for Zuko himself to fight. This presents Zuko as the lesser of two evils from almost the very beginning of the show, thus setting him up for a redemption arc that ultimately spans 75% of the show and leads to a very satisfying conclusion.

But the Blue Spirit persona is not, at the start, an indication of altruism or goodness. In s1 I'm not sure if I think Zuko believes that capturing Aang is a moral good that will serve his people, if only because I don't think doing the right thing for his people is actually on his mind at all. He is very singularly focused on being able to earn his way out of exile, and the Avatar is his only means of doing this. Therefore, if Zhao is the one to successfully capture and return him, Zuko will be robbed of his one and only chance to return home and regain his honor (which is, narratively, a stand-in for his father's love which he will not fully realize is not something that he should have been able to lose for any reason, nevermind simply speaking his mind, until much later), so he would rather risk losing the Avatar and having to pick up his trail again later than leaving him in Zhao's custody and allowing someone else to earn credit for his capture.

Thus, it is ultimately a selfish action. And I think part of what I love most about the parallels between the Blue Spirit and Katara's Painted Lady persona--because both disguises are, at their core, about Zuko and Katara respectively being true to themselves in ways that circumstances would otherwise prevent them from behaving. For Katara, it is ultimately about helping a village full of people she doesn't know and who will not thank her (and in fact turn on her when they realize who she is and where she's from)--because she can't find it in herself to turn away, and so she does what she has to (fakes an illness for Appa, dons a disguise to mask her identity and let a spirit take the credit for saving the village) in order to stay true to herself and help them. For Zuko, it is ultimately about helping himself--foregoing any real notion of honor (because, being honest, there's no honor in cheating! that Zhao is considerably worse of a villain at this juncture is incidental, because at this point, he and Zuko remain ostensibly on the same side, which is why Zuko needs to make sure he isn't recognized) to make sure he doesn't lose his only real shot at going home.

And it is likewise important that, later, he dons the Blue Spirit while he and his uncle are fugitives in the Earth Kingdom in order to steal so that he and Iroh can survive--and then, near the end of book 2, he dons the mask one final time to rescue Appa, one of his first truly selfless acts which marks a moment of significant growth (and is pretty important ahead of what will seem to be a moment of significant backsliding, when he sides with Azula and returns home seemingly triumphant at last, having lost far more than he gained and not yet able to realize it), and he discards the mask, watching it disappear as it sinks into the water, and if that ain't symbolic of something idk what is lmao

But yeah, you don't get to all of that deliciously juicy growth without starting at the bottom--with Zuko utilizing the Blue Spirit for his own selfish needs, and putting himself and his own quest over the 'need' his country might have for capturing the avatar.

[thezombieprostitute]

My Man's an Undertaker

Summary: When your ex shows up, trying to win you back, you're not having it. And you know your current boyfriend has your back.

Warnings: Ex-boyfriend angst, Guns, Mild violence, Threats of murder. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Inspired by the song "My Man's an Undertaker" by Dinah Washington.

A/N2: Soft-for-you Robert Pronge, not canon.

You were just settling in for the night when you hear a knocking at your door. It couldn't be Robert, he said he was working late at the funeral home. Maybe something came up and you forgot something at his place yesterday? Or maybe he had ordered you some delivery again, like the caring man he is.

Looking through the peephole you gasp, recognizing Charles, your deadbeat ex-boyfriend.

"What do you want, Charles," you growl through the door.

"I want to apologize to the best thing that ever happened to a loser like me," he says. "I got your favorite flowers. And some of those chocolates you like."

"Last I checked, you couldn't afford those things," you snap back. He'd always been hitting you up for money. Always promising to pay you back or make it up to you. Telling you he was going to get that high paying job, he just needed some money for a good suit for the interview. Promising you the best in life while taking away what little you had.

"I've got a decent job," he cheerfully announces. "Been working hard so I can keep my promises to you."

"What's the job?" you know you can't trust him and you're not above calling his supposed place of employment to verify his story.

"It's nothing big," he says.

"I don't care, what is the job?"

"Look, I came here to try to romance you, earn you back," he deflects. "Please give me a chance, sweetheart. Let me in."

Not a chance in hell, you think. You send a text to Robert, telling him what's happening. The police have a bad reputation around here regarding listening to women but they'd listen to him.

"You need to leave, Charles," you tell him through the door. "I've got a better man in my life. Treats me like a queen, steady job, doesn't lie through his teeth. You know, all the things you never did."

"Please don't do this," he groans. "I did what you told me to and got a job. Isn't that enough of a start?"

"Not until you can pay me back the money and the time you stole from me. Now go away or I call the police."

"It doesn't have to be like this, honey," he pleads. "Just let me in. I'll make you feel good all over. I still remember that trick with my tongue that made you go all starry eyed."

"Go away Charles. This conversation is over and that door is not opening."

You grab your security bat and walk further into your apartment where you can't hear him so well. Maybe he'll make such a ruckus your neighbors call the cops on him for disturbing the peace.

Checking your phone there's a text from Robert saying that he's on his way. That helps you relax a little. Robert's definitely bigger and stronger than you, and much more likely to get Charles to leave you alone.

There's a noise near the door making you look up. Charles is standing there, a bouquet in one hand, a lockpick in the other. You drop your phone and place both hands on your bat, taking a defensive stance.

"It didn't have to be like this," Charles shakes his head. He drops the lockpick and grabs a gun from the inside of his coat. "Drop the bat, sweetheart. And let's just sit and have a nice chat."

You do as he says and sit at the little table in the kitchen. Charles sets the bouquet on the table before taking the seat across from you.

"That's Robert's seat," you grumble.

"Mine now," Charles smiles. "Besides, clearly you can do better, babe. If he was really a 'better man' than me, he'd be here taking care of you. Protecting you."

"He's an undertaker," you say nonchalantly. "He's got late hours."

Charles snorts at that, "an undertaker? Really? That's cute."

You're grateful for the shake of his head so he doesn't see you perk up at the door opening behind him. Robert peeks out from behind the door to take in the scene and gestures for you to keep quiet.

"He is cute," you comment, keeping your eyes on Charles. "Way cuter than you ever could be. He actually remembers what my favorite flowers are."

"He works with stiffs all day," he scoffs. "Bet he's into some weird shit in bed. Didn't realize you were such a fr---"

Charles gets cut off by a blow to the head, making him drop the gun. You immediately get away, grabbing your bat while Robert slams Charles's face into the table, dazing him. Robert pulls out the duct tape he'd snuck out of the tool bag in the coat closet and uses it to tie Charles's hands behind his back.

"And yes," Robert calmly says, "I already called the police. I'm on their good side so they'll be here shortly."

Setting the bat down and taking a deep breath, "thank you for thinking of that."

Robert moves over to you and takes you in his arms. "It's okay, my Dahlia. You're safe now."

Charles looks around, confused. This doesn't look like the usual interrogation room. He should know, he's been in several of them. It's decidedly colder than it should be as well. His teeth have almost started chattering.

When the door finally opens he vaguely recognizes the man who attacked him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Charles demands. "Shouldn't I be given a phone call? A lawyer?"

Robert doesn't respond, simply walking over to a table that was against the wall. Charles had figured it was a side table for recording instruments, but then Robert lifts the cloth on the table and reveals many sharp objects. Charles can't identify them, but he can guess their purpose and he starts shaking from more than just the cold.

"You know one of the benefits of being an undertaker?" Robert asks without looking at Charles. "I get to do 'favors' for the local police department. Sometimes it's simply helping a slain officer get a proper burial without breaking the bank. Other times it's burying some evidence."

Charles can't take his eyes off the utensils. He knows what's going to happen.

"Dahlia has been a rare light in my cold, dark world," Robert continues. "She's a kind heart. One of the very few people who isn't afraid of me because of my job."

Robert selects one of the cutting implements, a smaller blade, and moves to sit across from Charles.

"She was so closed off for so long," Robert muses. "I had to work hard to earn her trust. It was very much worth it. She told me about you, Charles. All the leeching, the lying, the false promises. I was tempted to call in a favor and have you brought in. But you were in her past. She wanted to just forget you and I respected her wishes."

Robert leans forward so he's face to face with Charles. "But then you showed up at her place. You threatened her with a gun. You scared her. That is unforgivable."

Charles starts crying, trying to babble apologies but Robert isn't hearing it. He sticks the blade to Charles's neck and smiles. "I've got a coffin just your size."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[wings-of-ink]

What time is it? Yes, another NSFW ask! 😋

First of all, 'Steel Chair Anon,' I'm dead 😭. I guess that's gonna be my nickname from now on.

Second, happy to serve your horny minds, guys (actually me too 😭 so 'our horny minds' then) and yes, thanks to Lunan for making sure we were being fed. FYI, I devoured it and left no crumbs 🤠.

Enough babbling, more questioning.

As always, I don't know if this has been asked before or not, but how would each ROs react being woken up from sleep by MC in a very NSFW way? Like maybe using some good ol' oral sex or just straight up putting their—(beep-beep)? 😀 *innocent smile*

LOL I'd say it's a nickname well-earned! 🪑

I am happy to have fed you, Nony!

Now...for your answers...I may have put another little teaser here, lol.

Oswin:

He mumbles in his sleep as you fiddle with his linen pants. Wrestling it from the waistband may be difficult if you aren't quick. You smile as you marvel at his sensitivity.

This is the morning you make good on your flirtatious threats to wake him in the best way. He's been a good boy and deserves a treat - and so do you.

His breathing is more rapid as you finally pull him free of his pants; he's hot and more than half-hard in your hands already. Oswin writhes in his sleep and you hear your name drip from his lips. You must be making him dream...

You start with one long, slow swipe of your tongue and he moans in response. His hands grip the bedding, and you fear he will already wake. You kiss about the tender flesh, licking and sucking to make him squirm until he's groaning your name over and over in his sleep.

Watching his face, you line up and sink him fully into your mouth until he hits your throat. He wakes with a gasp, mouth hanging open as he pants and stares down at you.

You feel like a fish at the end of a hook, the bait lodged in your throat.

As Oswin finally understands what's going on, he doesn't say a word. You wiggle your tongue a bit as you drool over him, trying your best to be good and hold him in. His eyes narrow as he brings his hand to the back of your head.

Zahn: The odds of both Zahn and MC having this idea at the same time are higher than you might think, lol. They'd love it and they'd love to reciprocate.

Duri: They're pretending to still be asleep while MC gets to it.

Rune: Normally they're a bit groggy in the morning, so this is a refreshing way to get the blood flowing. Since MC has started this, even after they wake, they're going to let MC have the stage so they can admire every move they make.

???: MC does this once and then after, he's always pretending to be asleep at random times...

[twig-tea]

I haven't been posting about it week to week but I have been keeping up with My Love Mix-up (the Thai adaptation) and I'm still sitting with how badly this latest episode (ep7) is sitting with me. I just have to purge this so I can move on. Criticism of the adaptation below [including spoilers through to the end of episode 7 and very vague spoilers for the source material].

I wish these show writers would not try to shoehorn an adapted work into the bubble, because this line they are trying to walk is disturbing. By having an older gay character tell Atom that he shouldn't characterize his relationship as different, it's suggesting that societal norms and social expectations are not real, but are something Atom invented. His fear is treated as a joke and an overreaction, something to overcome, and everything I've heard from Thai people in the real world tell me that is very much not the case. This is such a different message from the original manga and Japanese live action, which were both about having the strength to defend your relationship in front of obstacles and trust the people in your lives who have earned it. There's a huge difference between learning not to live in fear even though there are realistic things to be concerned about, and learning your fear was misguided/not based in reality after all so you can just let it go. Queer kids should not be taught to not trust their instincts about who to trust with their truths.

This is the same mistake GMMTV made with the changes they made to 23.5, and it tells me their writers fundamentally don't understand internalized homophobia. You don't develop internalized homophobia in a homophobia-free bubble--kids are not born with it, it has to be learned. We are taught to hate ourselves by parents, by media, by teachers, by strangers...to set a show in a world where that is not a reality, and then to have characters have those fears anyway, is insulting and dismissive of where those fears come from and how they are based on realistic fears about potential outcomes. Gay kids do lose their families and have their lives blown up over the people they love--that is not a joke or an overdramatic statement.

I am really upset by this. It feels like these shows are saying queer people are foolish and delusional for being afraid. I've had people in real life tell me that my concerns were overdramatic before, and I've also seen people badly hurt because they didn't take the threat of homophobia seriously enough. I just...it's not that I worry this will be a model for anyone's behaviour. But this adaptation took a story about characters I could relate to, and changed them so that the show instead instead is invalidating my experience. It feels dehumanizing. In trying to be an escapist piece of media, this show instead became painful for me to watch. I sincerely hope I'm an outlier and other queer folks watching this didn't feel it in the same way, because I don't want other people to be feeling how I'm feeling right now.

I'll be walking away from this one.

@bengiyo I think you mentioned feeling similarly disturbed by this approach in your stray thoughts, so I'm tagging you in case you wanted to add on.

[deadite-central]

SPOILERS FOR WANO ACT THREE!

Yeah I got nothing to say this time let’s get started

Like I said in the previous post, I adore everything about Yamato’s and Kaido’s fight. The idea of how much Yamato was inspired by Oden, and how his father did everything to take that away from him is displayed here fully. Kaido treated him with nothing but cruelty for most of his life, and for what? Because his child admired someone he himself believed to be incredibly strong and honourable? Yamato rightfully calls out his father on everything he’s done to ruin his life, and it feels so earned, and even if he knows he can’t win, he’ll make sure Luffy has the chance to defeat him

Okay I don’t know if this is a well known fact but I adore Hawkins. He’s genuinely one of my favorite characters in the entire series, and his fight with Killer gives him so much time to shine. He’s incredibly smart, not allowing himself to be attacked head on due to using Kidd’s life as one of his straw dolls, and he seems to be in control of the fight up until Killer also decides to pull a trick and slashes his arm off, the one arm Kidd didn’t have. The true icing on the cake for this fight is when Hawkins pulls out the Tower card, which if you know anything about Tarot is the last negative aspect you’d want to pull out in a situation like this

Continuing the pattern from before, about the fact everyone gets their time to shine, I lean FINALLY talk about Sanji’s struggle that stemmed from his relying on the Germa raid suit, he worries he’s turning into someone like his family, as he can feel the changes he’s going through. He wonders what Luffy would want from him, which ultimately leads to the death pact between him and Zoro. He defeats Queen, and goes back to being his usual kind self (with a neat callback to his flashback in whole cake with the mouse), but the looming threat of the death pact still lingers. Zoro himself goes through my favorite fight of his against King, with the two paralleling each other, displaying utter dedication to their respective captains. It’s thematically important for Zoro, especially since he pushes himself to save his friends so much he MEETS DEATH after the fight, which leads to a bunch of stuff in the later arcs (at least from what I’ve seen so far). Lastly, I hate when people say Usopp didn’t do anything in Wano, as if this scene of his doesn’t exist. He shows the samurai that a honourable death in battle is stupid, because at the end of the day, it’s living another day that allows us to grow, to experience new things and to keep fighting, it takes a part of his character that would usually be seen as a flaw and flips it on its head, showing that sometimes you run, so you can keep fighting

I haven’t really talked about CP0 during Onigashima, but once they decide to put their plans into motion to make Wano WG territory, we get one of the coolest panels in Wano, along with the reveal that maybe, Luffy’s fruit isn’t what we thought, which I’ll get more into later

Kidd and Law vs Big Mom is a masterclass in using the abilities of everyone involved to their full extent, with the ending of the fight not only letting Law make a homage to the man who saved him, but also giving Big Mom a moment to think as she falls to her doom, on what Roger wanted to achieve. It’s profound, and I truly hope she’s coming back in Elbaph, as she’s such a good character and I miss her so much. I’m not the only one to miss her, as getting to see the version of Linlin that Kaido knew during his time with the Rocks pirates but their relationship into a new perspective, as sure they butt heads, fight, and both want the title of pirate king, but she was the one to take him under her wing, and the two clearly cared about each other, I genuinely felt for them here, despite the evils they’ve done, and that just shows to me how complex both of them are

Before we get to a thing I’ve been meaning to talk about this whole goddamn arc, when Kaido gives the news of Luffy’s defeat, Nami once again shows unwavering faith in her captain. Luffy has defeated foes thought to be undefeatable, and this scene in particular brings me back into Alabasta, with everyone proclaiming that Luffy would never die

And oh boy were they right about that

[yellowhollyhock]

I feel like both Don and Raph could have helped Leo during his ptsd arc. Raph would be the only one who understands Leo’s anger and Don would understand almost getting everyone killed in his cased killed cuz of SAINW.

super sweet idea! I think it's true that they both would be able to relate to him in different ways, and it makes sense they'd try to reach him on those grounds. To be honest, I think that's exactly what would make it difficult for them to help--or well, not by necessity, but what did make it difficult for them to help

Anyways you gave me an excuse to overanalyze Don's reaction to Leo's ptsd arc, and while I'm here I'm doing Raph and Mikey as well

Okay let's talk about Donny. I've thought about this one a lot. We don't ever canonically see him dealing with what he saw in that alternate universe, other than immediately after when he hugs Mikey and Raph. But we can imagine. He's already someone who puts a lot of pressure on himself (ie Underground City). Now the big threat that's been weighing so heavy on him for so long, the thing that he went to the future and saw there was no way to beat except to sacrifice themselves, is gone.

He can finally rest.

And I do feel like that's the attitude we see. He's eager to take out some aggression on the PDs when they show up at the farmhouse, but it's not Obsessive Mode Donatello. Compared to how we know he gets when he thinks something is his fault or that someone needs him help, he Chillin. Also he immediately develops a crush on Jhanna. I mean that's just one reading, but as a lesbo recovering from severe emotional repression I think I know the face of a traumatized soul seeking solace in the idea of a future and falling too hard too fast for Stronk Smort Gorl as soon as she gives him a bit of attention, not that I, ahem, have uh, direct experience or anything

Anyway

I think he's making a very deliberate choice to stop taking things so seriously--to be a kid for the little bit of time he has left to be a kid. To cling on tightly to his relationships with his brothers above all else, because he knows (and likely has it fresh in his mind) he could lose them. Goofing off with Mikey isn't a distraction, it's a priority.

And then Leo is doubling down on being child soldiers. To Donny, all that work they did was to escape that life. Taking down the Shredder should mean, from his pov, they now get to focus on just living, building themselves a little corner of the world they can just stay in and be happy.

I had a breakdown of multiple episodes demonstrating this but my app crashed and it all got deleted so just trust me ok

Big important example though: Dragons Rising. Yes, Donny understands the mission, he'll play his part to get it done, but even more pressing is to make sure he preserves the light in Mikey's eyes. Now that the Shredder is dealt with that's the next thing on his checklist to make sure that future never happens. They put on silly disguises. He wears a mustache and does an old man voice.

Then Leo doesn't see the exact results he wanted from a planned mission and chews them out for treating it like a game. I can imagine how much that remark would sting for Donny specifically, assuming his brothers know about what happened in that alternate dimension. (do you think old man Leo, listening to this sixteen-year-old insisting that they should go after Shredder again, this time they would win, ever said something, even very gently, to the effect of 'be careful Donny, this isn't a game?' y-yeah me neither)

You can hear his barely contained frustration when he defends himself and the others with, "Leo, we did the best we could."

Which is ultimately what will help Leo. That's the exact mantra that brings him through the battle with himself. But he's not hearing it from Don; to him in that moment it just sounds like an excuse. And Donny, who is also a hurting traumatized teenager, very likely doesn't appreciate his hard-earned wisdom being dismissed as childish and lazy.

Now on to Raph: he talks explicitly throughout Leo's arc about how he can see himself in it, and out of everyone, I feel like we see him most directly trying to help. He's sticking right by his side, supporting his ideas, training harder when Leo asks him to train harder. Back to Dragons Rising: in stark contrast to Donny's almost scolding comfort, Raph waits until Leo leaves and then:

"I hate to say it, but Leo's right."

Everything Leo is saying and doing makes perfect sense to Raph--as far as he's concerned, where it goes wrong is when it gets too extreme. 'Yes we do need to take this more seriously, but he shouldn't yell at us.' 'Okay training more and harder is a good idea, but how much more and harder?' He gets needing to blow off steam--he watches Leo face the rat king, and holds back (which is not an easy thing for him to do) because he thinks Leo needs to work this out of his system.

After all, that's what Raph's always done. Step outside, get some air, find someone to take it out on who deserves it so that he doesn't take it out on his brothers. But you know what else Raph is always doing when he does that?

Finding someone to help.

And that's super healthy and really healing. But it's something he does naturally because he likes to, I don't know if he's connected it with helping to manage his temper (it's easy for us to see because we're watching it, but he's living it. Hard to notice patterns when you're in the middle of them).

Anyway, blowing off steam doesn't work for Leo. Every time he faces something down on his own just further reinforces to him that he's the only one taking this seriously, and he absolutely has to be perfect in order for his family to be safe.

I think a lot about Raph, seeing Leo get mad enough to hurt Master Splinter, and then watching him be sent away. From his teenage perspective, wouldn't it feel like Leo is being punished? Wouldn't he wonder about how far he's allowed to push things, how close he might have come in the past to being sent overseas? I think Leo really needed the time for himself and understood that to some extent. He probably felt it was a just punishment as well, but I think he realized Splinter was doing what was best for him. After all, he asked for his training to go to the next level. And he doesn't want to make another mistake like that.

But for Raph? I don't think he can imagine a worse punishment than being separated from his family, especially if he just hurt one of them. That moment between Leo and Splinter had to remind him a lot of himself and Mikey. Imagine how he would've felt if the answer to that had been, 'I can't train you anymore, go to Japan to meet a man you've never heard of who will teach you how to control your temper.'

Also later on when he realizes how much it did actually help and wasn't meant to be punitive, that absolutely would twist into 'why were Leo's problems that important but mine never were.'

So why isn't Leo receptive to Raph's help? Well he is. But his goal isn't to heal. He thinks he's doing the right thing by spiraling further and further. Leo would have sucked up Raph's loyalty not unlike what Shredder did to Karai. Obviously not to the same extreme, but he would keep expecting Raph to be right behind him and work towards his goals, and Raph would've kept thinking that the Leo he knew, an undeniably down to earth Decent Guy, was still in there and would be back if he just held out and stuck around. Raph is not hard and fast with rules, he'd make allowances for his brother who is clearly going through some things. And Leo would have just kept pushing.

Wow that got dark

Anyway

They love each other very much, and ultimately, the fact that Raph did stick it out for so long was likely a big help to Leo. He just wasn't able to see it for what it was until he first shifted his priority to achieving peace within himself, instead of trying to fix the rest of the world. And I do think when he gets back, he'll remember how Raph stuck by him even when he was being very difficult. Because he really did, more than anyone.

As for Mikey, he and Leo have plenty of differences, but they've always been on the same page about one thing: the greater good.

I think Mikey sees Leo doubling down and assumes it's similar to the last time they defeated Shredder: City at War. During that time, Leo and Mikey were the ones who wanted to go out and fix the mess the city was in, stay involved in gang politics. Raph and Splinter were staunchly against it, and Donny went to support and protect the others, with him and Mikey both frequently trying to gently rein Leo in (not something they normally have to do).

Mikey sees it all happening again. Leo feels responsible for the city's safety, doesn't want to rest on their laurels, going into hyper-vigilance after a big victory as an overcorrection from overconfidence.

So Mikey leans just as hard into confidence. He's skipping on training, doubling down on the jokes, anything he can to get Leo to lighten up, or, when that doesn't work, avoid Leo whenever he can. No one likes to be constantly criticized. Just like Donny, he gets defensive: they are doing good for the city, they will keep on winning. After all, he's already a superhero, and a Battle Nexus Champion.

It makes a lot of sense he starts bragging about that again--seeking comfort from the past when the present offers none--and is unfortunate for him that Raph and Donny are just as exhausted as he is from the micro management and constant negativity, and do not take the bragging well at all.

It's also something that ends up helping Leo a lot. Directs all that energy and rage towards a goal, helps him look outside of himself by focusing on helping Mikey, balances the guilt of perceived failures (of himself and of his family) with a simple clear-cut victory. And Mikey knows it helped, he gets to see Leo being closer to himself again. It feels like he's close to a much more important victory, so he keeps pressing. He tries talking more positively about Leo, because positive words mean so much to him and are what's been missing in their home.

It helps some. It might've helped more directly after the inciting event. Either way, it's not a solution. Outside praise has never been enough for Leo, if he's decided he's not where he should be he's gonna keep pushing himself until he achieves it.

And this time 'it' is the assured safety of his family, something he honestly hasn't ever experienced before, and as far as he's concerned, takes more than all of them combined have to give

Overall, yeah I do think both Raph and Donny would've had some useful wisdom to share if 1) anyone had noticed and asked 2) they were able to separate the coping/survival skills they used to deal with their traumas from The Way Everyone Should Deal with Hard Things (big ask from teenagers--as far as they're concerned what they've been through so far is how life works).

Those conversations could've been a big help, although I don't think any amount of family talks would solve things. Leo needed the in-show equivalent of professional help. He needed time away from his family, too, so he could see more clearly what he was doing to them and himself.

I also do think all three of them will have cause to think back later on Splinter's comments that they had healed, but Leo hadn't. I get what Splinter meant by this, Leo's response was maladaptive and even immediately dangerous, but my guy, nobody's okay just a couple months after a traumatic event like that. No not even with meditation, no not even if they are laughing and playing video games. Especially considering how much those boys had already been through. Not to mention the added trauma of Leo 1) having such a drastic personality change that manifested largely as aggression towards them, and 2) being sent away. but that's probably a whole other post lsbfksjs

[mayandjuly1811]

i hate huntlow and I also hate willow. one of her fans was toxic. they doxxed me and called me a fatphobe and racist just because I dont like her

I'm sorry that happened to you. I hope you're okay. Overall, Willow is a good character with good development. Nevertheless, she has some bad behaviors in the show that I couldn't bring myself to like her.

Warning: this is my personal thought about my disliking for this character, I'm not attacking or hating other people who like Willow.

1.Academic cheating.

I think that Amity is wrong for bullying Willow, but Willow isn't in the right for cheating either.

No matter what the reasons are, cheating on exams is wrong. Willow literally cheats, which takes away the top student badge that Amity works hard to earn. She has to find better ways to get a passing grade instead of cheating.

She's bad at Abomination magic, so she can never get a passing grade without cheating. Okay, if she was gonna cheat, then don't let it affect other people. She should have stopped when she received the A+, not taking the top student badge because all Willow wants is the passing grade, not that badge. She could just refuse when the Professor gives her the badge. It's not that hard. She could say, “Sorry Professor, but I only received one A+. I think giving me the top student badge after one good test is not an exhaustive evaluation. If I get more As in the future, then I'll accept the badge.” It's unfair that Willow only earns one A+ but can get the badge from Amity, who has been working hard to achieve many good grades.

In the end, after cheating, sneaking a human at school, taking away the badge that she doesn't deserve, putting the school in vines and jeopardy, hurting the school Principal, Willow gets rewarded by being transferred to the Plant Track. She faces no consequences. She still keeps the top student badge that she gained by cheating at the end of that episode.

2.Being controlling and violent sometimes.

This is proved in Understanding Willow, Willow literally throws both Luz and Amity forcefully inside the picture. She throws Luz inside so hard that she may have a concussion. I understand why she does that to Amity, but why Luz, her best friend? All Luz wants is to help Willow, at that time, she's innocent. Willow only gets suspicious of Luz turning her memories photo back at the end of that episode.

Next is the first time she met Hunter. Willow seems to be violent for no reason at all. Hunter disguises as a Hexside student so to Willow, he's just a student that she doesn't know. He's not a threat at all. She then summons the vines to capture him and drags him down so hard that the asphalt gets damaged. How could anyone treat strangers like this?

When Hunter is about to leave again, Willow, with a satisfying smirk, drags him down the ground and takes him to the field without asking his permission. And this scene is so traumatizing for Hunter because it's the same as when Belos drags him down the ground. Hunter looks utterly scared and suffocated. She doesn't respect Hunter's boundaries and decision at all, it's like she's forcing him to join the team.

3.Lack of understanding in some episodes.

In Something Ventured, Something Framed, Gus secretly sneaks Luz inside Hexside although Luz is still banned. Willow sees Luz there, yet she doesn't stop Gus or at least warns Luz about it. She's the one who knows more clearly than anyone else about what consequences Luz may face. Last time, Luz was chased after by Principal Bump and Amity for trespassing. All for helping Willow get a passing grade. Is it too difficult for her to tell Gus that "Gus, stop!" or warns Luz that "You're still banned from Hexside"? She doesn't say anything and only makes a face like this.

In Really Small Problems, Willow is being inconsiderate of King's feelings. King shows how sad he is when he's neglected from the group the whole time. He has abandonment issues. Yet, Willow, along with Gus, keeps talking about the three-people games in front of King, as if they just want to exclude King from the group, not to mention King is there with Luz first, while Willow and Gus only tag along.

After losing Flapjack and being possessed by Belos, Hunter is grieving over the loss of his best friend. Yet, Willow, along with Gus, still laugh and make jokes. Therefore, it makes Hunter feel uncomfortable. Willow doesn't have to cry or feel depressed like Hunter when he lost Flapjack, but at least have some seriousness and respect. If she can't comfort him or say anything nice, then it's better to stay silent. It's offensive when a person is in grief over their loved one and their close friends make jokes instead of comforting them. That's insensitive of Willow and I feel uncomfortable like Hunter in that scene.

Willow has good intentions of comforting Hunter in For the Future but it's not in a good way. Hunter just lost Flapjack and he's grieving. The fact Willow gives him the Flapjack picture is like rubbing salt to his wound. When Hunter looks upset, Willow should have stayed to continue to comfort him, not leaving and making it all about her. Dealing with the loss of Flapjack and Belos's possession is too much for Hunter, yet now he feels guilty because his own grief makes Willow feel sad. How is Hunter supposed to act around Willow after that? Bottling up his sadness and trauma from Willow anytime in fear of upsetting her? That scene is one of the reasons why I dislike Huntlow.

Also, she teases a stranger in the store in Thanks to Them and interrupts other people's business. Seriously, that man just minds his own business of buying stuff in the store, he doesn't deserve to be poked in the bottom by a stranger and receive no apology at all. It also affects the shop's owner when seeing her customer get bothered like that. Worse, when running away, Willow even smiles and shows no remorse at all. After that, she just goes back and gives the owner a coin? I don't find this funny at all.

4.Being too arrogant in For the Future.

She keeps talking about getting revenge, punching Belos in the face even though her power isn't strong enough to fight him. Willow is a powerful witch, but she doesn't take into account that the whole Hexsquad group had two fights with Belos and all five of them couldn't take him down. She can't even defeat Kikimora and the Abomaton, much less Belos.

Willow isn't fast enough to dodge Kikimora's attack even with Gus's help, then Hunter has to come in to save her.

5.Taking photos without permission or asking first.

This one is from my personal experience so I take this seriously.

As a person who is insecure about looks and hates having photos taken without permission, I would feel uncomfortable if I were Luz and Amity. In this picture, Luz and Amity are having a date. And a date is supposed to be private between the two. Yet, Willow secretly stalks them, interrupts their date and takes this embarrassing photo to put in the album.

How would you feel when your friend stalked you and your date partner, interrupted your date and took a bad photo without asking?

When Amity is being serious about finding ways to go back home, Willow interrupts her speaking by taking a bad picture of her without asking again and puts it in the scrapbook.

This is my personal opinion, if anyone disagrees with anything, please comment in a civil way.