#so i had to find the next best thing that wasn't wildly expensive

[gulabilli]

trying not to be embarrassed about ordering myself what's basically a chew toy, like it's supposed to help with focus and sensory stuff which might be good for me and i can try it and that's allowed im an adult and can use my money how i want to

[tumblingxelian]

CRWBY's efforts to explore ideals of toxic masculinity and heroism through Jaune's character development are some of their most ambitious but also most troubled efforts I think. To see what I mean lets break this down by volume:

V1/3: This was messy as each volume seemed more insular in its handling of the topic.

V1, would have been fine if Jaune had learned he got help from Pyrrha and accepted it gratefully. But instead he's allowed to think he defeated the Ursa all on his own even though she outright saved his life cos he was ignoring Glynda's advice by neglecting his aura and defense. So it feels like only after he got a confidence boost was he willing to ask for help. The set up was there but not the execution

V2, just doesn't work with me cos I find his constant pestering of Weiss to be obnoxious at best & the fact he was the 'good guy' in that scenario and Weiss is forced to reconsider her views on him just rankles. Plus his annoyance with Pyrrha taking command when he wasn't doing so & swinging wildly with his sword to win don't really work. The dress scene isn't bad inherently, but I find the reliance on "I have sisters" and such to make it more muted. Especially as the gesture itself is kind of eh on its handling of gender presentation, but then this was like 2014.

V3 was good in that it was a tragic slap in the face to everything he was trying to do right. He was supportive, encouraging, he listened and was fine with stepping back to let Pyrrha be the face of the team. He was becoming the kind of person worthy of his position. Then Pyrrha shows a lack of faith in him (From his perspective) and he's left helpless as she dies, setting up the next stage

V4/6 This is much tidier and it all flows together much better.

Jaune forgoes defense in favor of offense with his giant and largely useless super sword. He falls back on anger and lashing out to cope with his grief. He outright has a death wish which only serves to endanger himself & others while gaining them nothing.

He is generally falling into a really unhealthy mindset but is guided through it, begins adopting a more supportive role and comes out with a solid resolution. The main struggle with this is was it isn't obvious that was the plan until V6/7, so in the interim it could be quite frustrating in places. V7/9 In the first two of these volumes Jaune is at his peak.

He's not prideful but quite humble, fine with taking escort missions with kids and doing a good job at it. He's empathic and supportive, trying to encourage his friends and not responding in anger when they are upset. Plus he keeps a good handle on his temper & has really embraced his role as someone who provides support and healing over raw power.

Which makes his inability to help Penny all the more tragic. & his utter degradation in V9 all the more poignant and powerful, especially as so much of it is at least partially self inflicted by refusing to move & trying desperately to fulfill and idea and role he had been outgrowing. His obsession with it a bid to compensate for his failure.

The issue mostly came down to timing as it felt like focus was given to his resolutions and feelings in scenes where it came at the expense of others, IE Episode 9.

Conclusion: Looking over the 9 volumes of story, let alone the added material there is certainly a lot of stuff done well on these topics. But its also very easy to see where bits and piece did not quite fit together, or were otherwise unable to meet their potential. Still, I am glad CRWBY have the ambition to try these things, its part of what makes me love RWBY so much.

[hushedhands]

Challenge 83

@cecilia02 @everbeenminee Astra watching Andrew's coronation.

Astra Orders set an alarm for three o’clock in the morning, but she didn't need it. She didn't sleep at all.

Her mom had invited her to watch the once-in-a-generation event with her little cousins in Illéa Palace, but Astra had refused. Kile had offered to stay the night and keep her company, but that hadn't felt right either. Her dad had suggested not watching at all, which was cute but not really a solution. It would be weeks before footage of this faded from the news, and even then there would be anniversary specials forever. Astra might as well bite the bullet and watch the coronation that had almost been hers.

She wished her parents and her boyfriend weren’t making such a fuss about this. History was full of women who'd almost married princes and then gone home to watch them become kings. Her Uncle Maxon had left dozens of such women in his wake when he’d chosen to marry Aunt Ames, though Astra didn't have the telephone numbers of any of them. She wished Andrew had enough ex-girlfriends to make a proper club like the former Selected. It might have been nice to have someone who could understand this indescribable feeling without the need for words to name it.

It wasn't that she wanted to be married to Andy. She had no doubt at all that she'd made the right decision in calling off their relationship, and that was totally separate from the fact that she was now wildly in love with Kile.

But there was something aching in her chest as she watched the aerial shots of the city of London on the little television in her apartment in Angeles, curled up in her warmest fuzzy pajamas, hair in a messy version of her ballet bun, hands clinging to her mug of tea for dear life. Today was the day that standing by Andrew's side for his coronation went from something she wouldn’t do to something she couldn't do. She'd chosen to walk away, but this was the day that the door locked behind her.

Never was a hard word to give to Andrew, even if Kile had her Always.

The camera above the crowd panned past the palace Astra had stayed in that summer, and her chest squeezed hard. Whatever else had happened there, it had been a refuge for her at a time in her life when she’d needed it most.

It all started when she had been offered an incredible opportunity to dance for the Waverly ballet company in the summer, and an opportunity to attend an elite seminar with London’s royal ballet company in the spring, and Kile, realizing that he and Astra wouldn’t see each other for over six months, had broken up with her very suddenly.

Well, technically it had been a mutual decision. She hadn’t seen him much during his first year at school, and now she was off on her own adventures, and it seemed like a terrible time to try to make a relationship work. What if he met someone amazing at university? What if she met someone in Waverly or London? Was it fair to deny themselves new relationships and experiences just because they’d always been together? Weren’t they technically together by default, anyway?

It was a reasonable question. If you married someone you’d had playdates with for as long as you could remember, and you never even tried to date someone else, it was probably a relationship by default… right?

As she got on the plane for London, it had hit her hard that she wouldn’t have a hope of seeing Kile again, maybe for an entire year. The earliest she’d be back in Angeles was the next fall, and that’s exactly when he’d be leaving to go back to school again. And this time they wouldn’t talk to each other on the telephone almost every single day, and she wouldn’t slip secret notes in the care packages his parents sent him from home, and he wouldn’t surprise her by sitting in the audience during a matinee performance after sneaking back into town without telling her...

And maybe he never would again.

It was possible she’d cried the whole flight overseas, it was hard to remember. She must have rehydrated somehow, or she’d have shriveled up and died of the heartbreak. That time was all a blur now.

But what Astra remembered clearly, sitting on her sofa four years later, was the way she’d felt walking into that little old palace on the north side of the city and realizing that it was essentially hers for the season. It really paid to have a paranoid king for an uncle sometimes, because Maxon had pulled a dozen favors with the English royal family to get Astra somewhere safe and comfortable to live for a few months. She was technically an Illéan princess by title, so he wouldn’t hear of letting her rent a crumby apartment somewhere in the city, and besides, wherever she stayed needed to have enough room for a security detail. Still, even for a small palace, it was a palace and it was hers.

The old place had plenty of full-time staff that kept it in good shape as an estate of historical significance to the English monarchy, but Astra herself didn’t have maids or butlers, or a chef to keep her fed. At night, everyone who worked to keep the palace maintained went home, so it was only her and the security detail.

But she was allowed to order takeout from restaurants around town, so on her very first night alone she ordered enough food to live off of for a while, until she could get to a grocery store. She sprawled on a sofa in the downstairs sitting room, doodling in the notebook her Aunt May had given her for her last birthday, until there was a surprise knock on the archway in the entrance of the sitting room.

“Hello.” Andrew stood there, still in his business suit from the day, though with no tie, and with the top button undone. He looked ruffled, and in his hands he carried a large bottle of red wine. “Sorry to barge in… there isn’t exactly a doorbell in this place, and without staff to handle arrivals and departures… well, I did knock.” he awkwardly concluded.

Astra, still in her tank top and stretchy pants from the plane, would have felt severely underdressed to received a prince at a palace, except this was one of her oldest and best friends, and some of the ache in her heart from leaving Kile on the other side of the world eased away just from looking at him. She hugged him, “You don’t need to knock. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” he hugged her back. “Ah, and here. A housewarming gift.” he offered her the wine.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

“Am I?”

“It should be here soon. The finest spicy noodles and sautéed vegetables in the land. Although, if there’s no doorbell…”

“The guard at the gate will take it from the delivery driver and have someone bring it in.” he grinned.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go hunt down something to open that bottle.” she said.

A new city, a change of scenery, some delicious New Asian food, a bottle of old wine, a dear old friend… this was the recipe to get over a breakup. Astra knew it, because she already felt worlds better, just struggling to find a way into the wine bottle. There wasn’t a corkscrew in the kitchens that they could find, and this palace didn’t have its own wine cellar, which was the only other place they could think to find wine accessories. In the end, Andrew took an impressive, ancient sword off of a display rack on a wall at the top of the grand staircase and carefully poked the sharp end down until it was lodged into the cork.

Astra laughed so hard her sides hurt as she twisted the bottle out in front of her and Andrew slowly stepped backward. After a couple of tries, the cork loosened up enough that he could use brute force to pull the rest of it out.

When the food arrived, they carried it up to the top floor, to a balcony that overlooked the city, and they had a picnic of sorts.

“Where’s Lucas? You two are usually a package set.” Astra asked between bites of spicy noodles.

“Still finishing up his first year at university.”

“Oh, of course! Kile— “ She stopped abruptly, her chest squeezed tightly, her tongue fell heavy in her mouth, and she drowned the bitter taste of his name on her lips with expensive wine.

“Oh dear. That won’t do.” Andrew leant over and brushed away an errant tear from her cheek. “You mean to tell me… well, he’s safe isn’t he? He’s not unwell?”

“No, no he’s fine. He’s at school… and I’m here.”

Andrew studied her face carefully. He’d met Kile and Astra on the same day, at the same moment, so they’d been friends for exactly the same amount of time. He knew that they’d been together romantically for almost seven years now, the teenage equivalent of a sixty-year marriage. “So you’re… taking time apart?”

“We’ve decided to go our separate ways.” Astra said, the words soft and wispy in her throat. “We’re not… we’re not headed in the same direction anymore. We might never head in the same direction again. After university, he wants to see the world. And I… I might travel around for a while as a dancer, but I can’t imagine not being there for Addy once she becomes Queen… Even if that wasn’t true, we won’t have a good chance to be in the same city for at least a year… and a lot can happen in a year.”

Andrew took a large sip from his glass and then refilled hers.

“That’s really difficult, Astra… I’m so sorry. I know how much you love each other. It must be hell, knowing that you’re growing apart from the person you’re closest to in the world.”

Astra choked a sob in her wineglass and Andrew’s eyes widened, “God, I’m sorry! What a terrible thing to say—“ he sat both of their glasses safely aside and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Astra got his suit all wet from her tears, but she felt comfortable in his arms. “I’m not crying because of you, stupid.” She explained when she had the breath to do so. “It’s definitely because of him. I just… I didn’t think anyone would understand. But you do.”

“I don’t.” Andy rushed to correct her. “Not really. I’ve never experienced anything like that. The closest I can imagine is if… if I lost touch with someone in the Palace kid gang. You’re my best friends, apart from Luke, and I’ve known you forever. If I had to say goodbye to one of you, to lose you forever… it’s not even close to what you’re feeling, but just the thought hurts enough for me to know that you’re going through hell.”

Astra sniffled and collected her wineglass again, ready for more sips, content to allow herself to be comforted by her friend. “Hell has better wine than I expected, I’ll give it that much.”

“Not a bad view, either.” Andrew agreed with a small chuckle, looking out at the city.

“Didn’t expect one of my very best friends to come with me to hell.” Astra timidly admitted.

“And I’m not leaving until I get you out of it.” he’d promised.

Andrew always did have words as sweet as honey.

They drank the whole bottle that night, between the two of them. They had as good an excuse as two teenagers needed: they couldn’t find a wine stopper. Andrew offered to stay the night with her so that she wouldn’t be alone, but now that the world was blurry and warm from the wine, Astra felt delightfully sleepy. She was going to get her first good night’s sleep since losing Kile. So Andrew left, promising to bring breakfast the next morning to check on her.

He checked on her a lot.

He brought her breakfast and dinner every day, and he’d probably have brought her lunch too, except that she was always at her dance seminar during the daytime. Astra ended every night with her body pleasantly tired from dancing, a new half a bottle of wine in her stomach, and her mind full of whatever nice, easy conversation she’d had with Andrew just before bed. Her first week in England flew by.

That Friday night, Andrew appeared in the doorway to the sitting room right on schedule, two bottles of wine in hand.

“You’re mad.” Astra giggled.

“It’s the weekend.” he argued. “You don’t have to dance tomorrow, and I don’t have any public appearances to make until next Tuesday.”

“You’re off work until Tuesday? You English royals really know how to take it easy.” she laughed. She didn’t think her cousins had taken a three day weekend in their lives.

“We’ll keep the second bottle on standby, just in case we decide we want to try it.”

But of course, they were young and it was a Friday night, they definitely wanted to try it. Somewhere after the first glass of the second bottle, refilling glasses got too risky and they started drinking straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth. There was a television show on, showing a concert happening on the other side of the city in a stadium Astra could just see if she stood tall enough on the balcony.

Andrew watched her going almost en pointe to try to spy the stadium, mesmerized by her strength and balance and grace. “Can we dance?”

Astra smiled brightly. Dancing was her favorite in the world, of course they could dance! They danced in their socks to the music on the television until Andrew collapsed, out of breath, on the sofa. Astra joined him, blood pumping pleasantly fast through her veins.

“I’m out of shape!” he bemoaned.

“I’m a professional athlete, don’t compare yourself to me. You did just fine.”

“I did? Do you think I could join the ballet?” He laughed giddily.

She’d never seen him giddy like this.

Andy carried the weight of his country on his shoulders, he always had. Addy hadn’t really started bearing Illéa on her back until she was eleven or twelve, old enough to understand what was coming for her, but Andrew had always been a future king, even when he was tiny. Seeing him now, not a care in the world, laughing about joining the ballet… Astra’s heart twisted in her chest and for the first time since breaking up with Kile, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

He had no part of this.

Astra leant forward and kissed Andrew on the warm, red cheek.

He looked at her, stunned, smile falling off his face. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know… just because. Just for you.”

“Just for me…” he’d mused.

“For being good to me. For taking care of me while I’m here. For… for being you. Yeah… just for you.” Astra nodded, this time more certain that the words made sense outside of her wine-fogged mind.

“I should be me more often.” he chuckled.

Astra blinked.

Should he?

***

There was a version of Astra’s stay in London where she pined away for her ex-boyfriend every moment she got, and maybe poured that pain into her dancing because it was overflowing from her heart and needed somewhere to go. That’s what she’d been expecting deep down. But what really happened was, she found a favorite market to buy groceries from, she found a bakery between her palace and the dance studio that kept her in much-needed carbs, she found a park with a pond where lots of locals liked to walk their dogs, which meant she got to pet a lot of dogs, and she started falling in love with the city.

And then there was Andrew.

He knew her so well, and they’d loved each other as friends for so long, and spending those mornings and nights with him felt so easy, so smooth.

And he was handsome and kind and… ugh, handsome. Astra didn’t regret kissing him on the cheek. Not even when he stood with her on the balcony a week later, watching the sunset, and she laced her hand with his.

“Are you quite alright?” he’d asked, not because she’d grabbed his hand, but just because he was still so worried about her.

“When I got here, I thought the answer to that question would be no forever.” Astra confessed. “And listen… I don’t really know who I am without Kile, he’s been a part of me for my whole life… but these past two weeks I’ve started to find out… and I like it. I like getting to know me.”

Andrew smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

“And I like you too, Andrew.”

His smile became pained, “Astra—“

“It’s okay. You’re the next king and blah blah blah.” he laughed, because there were so few people in the world who could blah blah blah being an heir to a throne, but Astra was certainly one of them.

“It isn’t that.” he corrected her with a shake of his head. “It’s… you’re getting out of a serious relationship. You can’t like anyone yet—“

“Yes I can.” Astra scoffed, a challenging glint in her eyes, “Watch me.”

“But we’ve been friends our whole lives, too. Wouldn’t you like to like someone different? A stranger, maybe?”

“Where would I find one of those?” Astra lamented, only half-joking. Having a king for an uncle really limited one’s opportunities to meet strangers.

Andrew peered at her closely, then seemingly made up his mind all at once, saying, “Put on a dress.”

“What?”

“Put on a dress, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Just like that, Andrew was downstairs talking to his security team and Astra was upstairs trying to figure out what dress to wear. There was a sweet springtime yellow thing… and then there was the red thing.

Astra made up her mind quickly. She chose the red thing. She chose everything that the red thing implied.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Andrew’s eyes widened.

“Is this alright? I have other dresses—“

“S’perfect—“ he muttered and then cleared his throat, “Ahem, that is perfect Astra. Let us be off.”

He formally offered her his arm and she accepted with a proud smirk at the flush in his cheeks, then they ducked into his car and his driver whisked them off across town.

“What are we doing?” Astra asked after they took a turn to a part of town she’d never been to before.

“Did I not say it is a surprise?”

“Yes, but—“

“We’ve got guards, and I’ve gone to this place before. There’s no need to worry.”

“Andrew—“

“It’s where I go when I need to meet strangers.”

Astra blinked, dumbfounded.“You? Meet strangers?”

“How else am I supposed to find a queen? ” he muttered mutinously.

Astra stared over at him for a long moment, never having given it a second thought. Addy would be free to date whomever she chose, but if all else failed she could always have a Selection to find her husband. Andrew had nothing like that to choose from.

Astra was surprised when the car pulled to a stop at the backdoor to a nightclub. Could princes of England really go clubbing? But this place looked like it had tight security, and there were signs posted prominently that there were no cameras allowed on the premises. Andrew’s and Astra’s bodyguards stayed close by as they entered the club and Astra’s ears were assaulted by music so loud she could no longer hear it. All she could hear was the beat.

Andrew took her to the bar and bought her whatever drink she wanted, and then leant in close to her ear so that she could hear him say, “What do you think?”

“It’s a little loud!”

He chuckled, “About the strangers.”

“Oh!” Astra looked around as she spun the little umbrella from her pink drink between her fingers. There were all kinds of men here. Some older than her, some younger, some looked athletic and some looked bookish, and they were all having fun, losing themselves to the same beat. “What do you think?!” she yelled at him.

He looked around at the women in the room, sizing them up, and then shrugged, “Hard to say.”

“How do we meet them?!” Astra was yelling, while somehow he was able to keep his voice low and still be heard when he leaned close to her ear.

“Honestly? They usually just come up to me…” he confessed.

Astra rolled her eyes. Royals.

Sure enough, several women came up to Andrew and threw themselves at him while he and Astra waited for even one man to make a pass at her.

“Maybe you’re intimidating them away!” Astra suggested.

“Maybe so. Do you want me to go dance?”

Did she want him to go dance with one of the strange women in the club so that a strange man might come up to her and hit on her?

Not really, no. She wanted to dance with him. She liked dancing with him. More than that, she didn’t want to dance with anyone else. And she didn’t want him to dance with anyone else. She took his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor, their bodyguards hilariously close by, and they started moving.

It wasn’t dancing the way Astra was trained to think of it. There was no choreography, no gentle swell of melody to carry her movements, this was something far more basic than that. The best part was how quickly she was able to stop thinking about anything but her own breath, the sweat on her brow, and the man in front of her.

There was nothing else in the world. For as long as they could stay with the beat, there was only the beat. Endorphins that she associated with a long hard workout flooded her body, and Astra felt good. And beyond feeling good, she did not feel sad. She did not miss anybody. Not her family on the other side of the world, and not Kile. She was complete right here. All she had to do was make this last forever.

“I am not a professional dancer.” Andrew reminded her, breath coming far too fast to get that whole sentence out without gasping for air several times in the middle.

Astra giggled at him, then hugged him close, “This place is magical!” she yelled in his ear.

“Magical?”

And just to prove the point, and to express her gratitude, she pecked his lips with a kiss.

That was it, right? A kiss of gratitude?

As first kisses went, it was silly. They were both too out of breath to do more than mash their lips together for a second and then go back to gasping for air. Andrew led them away for water and after a few minutes to recover, he was ready to try again.

Astra helped him find a way to move to every other beat instead of every beat, essentially cutting the speed of his dancing in half for him. That helped tremendously. But to help him do this, she had to wrap her arms around his neck to guide him, and once he had the beat it was all much less frantic and much more sensual. This time when they kissed, it was not a silly peck on the lips.

Astra had only ever kissed Kile before, but since that was never happening again, she didn’t allow herself to think about that. She didn’t think about how Andrew was taller than Kile, and his cheeks were softer because he shaved every single morning without fail. She didn’t think about anything except how nice it was not to feel pain. When she was with Andrew, especially when she was kissing Andrew, she felt nothing but joy.

Was she using him to feel better?

If someone made you feel better and wanted to be around you, was that even using them?

They stayed at the club until Andrew was too tired to go on (and even Astra was ready to admit she was tired), and then they climbed back into Andrew’s car and rode off into the night.

Astra’s ears were ringing with the sudden silence, and they were both flushed and dripping with sweat. Astra was ready to bet her face matched the red of her dress and her hair, and was ready to feel embarrassed about that somewhere beneath her exhaustion, when Andrew slid his hand over to hers and squeezed.

She looked over at him and smiled.

It was past 2 in the morning when they got back to Astra’s palace, and Astra couldn’t believe they’d spent so many hours getting swept away like that.

“I’d do that every night if I thought my hearing could survive it.” Astra admitted as they struggled to get up the stairs, feeling distinctly like they had overcooked pasta for legs.

Astra took an ice-cold bath and then rolled her legs out to try to avert any soreness the next morning, and then she found Andrew in one of the guest bedrooms. “Thanks for the dancing… sorry we didn’t meet any strangers.” she grinned.

“I’m not.” he admitted, with complete candor.

“Well then, no future queen for you and no non-childhood friend to date for me.”

“Perhaps you could find a childhood enemy?” he suggested, and she laughed at the dryness of voice as he made the joke.

“Yes, I’ll have to make do.” she agreed.

***

The kisses felt stolen for the first week, like they were getting away with something they weren’t supposed to, but then one day Andrew showed up with Astra’s favorite breakfast, and two paper travel cups of tea, and he pecked her on the lips in greeting and it didn’t feel stolen at all. It felt as comfortable as an old sweater, and made her feel just as warm inside.

To celebrate the end of her first month in London, Astra ordered dinner for them from the same restaurant they’d eaten at on her very first night in town. He showed up looking frazzled after a long day of talking with members of parliament, but all the more pleased to see her because that stress was over now. And, of course, he brought her the same kind of wine they’d shared that first night.

Astra had bought a corkscrew weeks ago now, so they didn’t need to resort to using ancient swords to open their alcohol, which made it slightly less interesting. Astra curled up against him on the balcony overlooking the city and kissed him every chance she got.

“You’re certainly in a mood.” he noted with a smile down at her, after their fourth surprise kiss.

“I’m just glad to be here.”

“Are you?” he seemed surprised. She didn’t blame him. It was quite a turn from her first weepy night a month ago.

“Yes. I think London’s been good for me.”

And maybe she meant the city, with her new favorite local spots and the friends she was making at the seminar, but maybe she meant Andrew. Maybe she couldn’t really tell the difference, and it was all just good for her.

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Waverly in two months.” Astra admitted. “It’s an amazing opportunity for my career, not to mention I’ll get to visit my grandparents in Carolina all the time, but… I like London.”

This time she was blatantly talking about him.

“Well… London’s not going anywhere anytime soon, I suppose.” he pointed out, fully onto her game.

She hmm-ed into her wineglass, “I suppose not.”

“And you’re always welcome in London, you know.”

Astra giggled and shook her head, surprising him with another kiss as a reward for playing along with her silly euphemism.

Later that night, when the food was stashed away in the kitchen and the wine was mostly empty, Andrew joined Astra again on the balcony as she stood there with the springtime breeze blowing through her loose, curly hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I meant it, you know.” he said. “You could stay as long as you like. There’s a tremendous ballet company in London, perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Astra laughed, pressing a hand to his over her stomach and turning to look up at him. “Maybe someday.”

“You’re dead-set on going to Waverly, then?”

“Well, I’ve signed a contract.” she explained.

“Ah. They shall imprison you if you break it. I understand.”

His voice was always so serious when he joked, never giving away the game. She laughed at the thought and said, “Yes, there’s a special prison for ballet dancers who break their contracts, it’s especially brutal. I hear they make you dance to jazz all day.”

This time his lips brushed the placed where her shoulders met her neck, and her breath hitched at the sensation. “I shan’t extradite you.” he concluded, his warm lips brushing her skin. “I shall keep you here, safe and sound, far away from the ballet constables.”

Astra laced her fingers with his over her stomach and said, “They’re relentless, the ballet constables. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

His lips trailed up her neck and stopped at her ear where he said softly, “I think I can manage.”

Astra’s entire body erupted in chills, and suddenly she didn’t want to continue their elaborate, jokey banter about the consequences of her actions. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips roughly to his, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that all she really wanted was to lose herself in the taste and the feel and the smell of him. Andrew was the only person in the world who made her not care about the future, and when his lips were on her skin that was doubly true.

It wasn’t exactly real happiness she felt when she was lying in bed with him, his sandy brown hair all ruffled, his arm slung across her like he was afraid she’d disappear in the night. True, meaningful, lasting happiness was something that required a lot of factors: feeling good about the present and hopeful about the future, and at peace with the past. Astra wasn’t at peace with her past, and she didn’t even want to think about the future, but the present… the present was so good. It was one out of three. One out of three wasn’t bad.

***

If Andrew’s parents noticed that he was essentially living with Astra that spring, they didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they just assumed that, since they were close friends, he was keeping her company and enjoying a nice, extended visit. And that was perfectly true, except that they were sharing a bed and occasionally a shower, and they shared a cup of coffee in the morning and a bottle of wine at night.

They didn’t go back to that club, but they found other ways to go out together without being photographed. There were secret tables in the kitchens of restaurants, special royal boxes in theaters, private trains to private estates, and one time there was a royal yacht. Astra was surprised that Andy had so much freedom, as the heir to the throne. Addy couldn’t have dreamed of roaming around Illéa the way that Andrew was gallivanting across his future kingdom. Sure, part of it was Andrew making sure Astra was having the time of her life— he probably didn’t usually venture away from home so much— but even so.

“Will you be able to keep this up once you’re king?” she’d asked him as they sat curled up together on a train ride returning from the south. “All this rambling.” she explained at his questioning look.

“Ah. No, there will certainly be less. But my job will be nothing nearly so intense as King Maxon’s, if that is what you’re thinking. For one thing, I’ve got parliament.”

Astra wasn't exactly sure how England’s parliament worked. She knew King Eoan set the legislative agenda, but he couldn’t pass any kind of law on his own. “I can’t believe they let you have a whole train to yourself, and you barely have to work.” she teased.

His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and his thumb began tracing her upper arm as he said, “If you think my future job’s a scandal, you should see what our queen has to do. Host parties, go shopping, appear at events…” his voice sounded as if it was a strain to remain light and carefree. As if his words were more important than he wanted them to be.

Astra leaned her head on his shoulder. Those were all things she already did for Illéa. Well, she didn’t host many parties, but she sometimes helped her Aunt Ames out when things were especially overwhelming. It was strange to think that she had experience doing the same job as the Queen of England.

“All that, and she gets to retire young?”

“Assuming that whole heir business is sorted out sufficiently early.” he admitted.

“Oh, that.” Astra giggled.

“On the whole, it’s not a terrible job.” he said.

“No, not when you factor in the jewelry.” Astra agreed, still joking.

“Precisely.” Andrew nodded with a small smile against the top of her head.

Astra wasn’t sure why he didn’t return her joke with one of his own.

***

Though Astra very much enjoyed being swept off her feet by the prince, it was the quiet nights at the palace that meant the most to her. Sometimes, after dinner and a long, hot bath, her joints would feel well enough to practice some choreography in one of the drawing rooms. Andrew would play the piano for her, putting years of lessons to use for the first time. Sometimes her joints would not feel well enough for more dancing after a long day at the seminar, and he’d rub her battered feet and ankles until she melted into a puddle at the other end of the sofa or bed, or wherever they happened to be.

She’d ask him about his work, but he wouldn’t tell her much. Maybe he was worried about protecting state secrets, or maybe he didn’t want to worry her. Maybe he didn’t want her to see him in less than a good mood, because he was only there to make her happy. And how could she not be happy?

One night, in the middle of her second month in England, as she laid awake in their bed and brushed her fingers through his unruly hair (a sight so few had ever seen: the Heir to England with unruly hair), she pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear and said softly, “What are we going to do when I have to leave for Waverly?”

Sleepily, he’d pried his eyes open, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “What would you like to do?”

“Freeze this moment in amber. Live in it forever.”

“Be young, in love, and carefree forever?” he’d smirked.

“In love?” she’d hesitated, surprised. They’d only been attached at the lips for six weeks now, as impossible as it seemed. Hadn’t they enjoyed half a lifetime together already?

“Oh dear.” He’d lifted his head up so that he could look in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Astra shook her head, “It’s okay. I do love you Andrew.”

“Do you?” he sounded amazed.

And she did. She’d always loved him, just as he’d always loved her. They’d grown up together, perfect friends, how could she not love him?

“I’m sorry you didn’t know that already.” she let her hand fall from his hair down his spine, coming to rest on his bare lower back. She traced the shape of a heart there with her finger and he shuddered. “You’re one of the best friends I’ll ever have, and I love you.”

He smiled and returned his cheek to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. “Yes. This moment would do just fine.”

“We could freeze this moment and allow archaeologists to discover it in a few thousand years.”

“And if we don’t like the future, we could simply freeze this moment again.” he agreed.

“You don’t think you’d be bored after a few thousand years?”

He grinned, one hand tracing her ribcage lazily, “I could find a few ways to keep myself occupied.”

***

Astra didn’t notice the first time there was a photographer waiting outside of the dance studio after her rehearsals. And then, a couple of days later, when a rumor sourced to a local food delivery driver was printed in a Sunday paper saying that he delivered Prince Andrew’s favorite kind of curry to the Palace where Astra was staying a couple of times per week. She didn’t mind when Andrew suggested they stop sneaking out to exclusive clubs or restaurants around the city, because staying in was extremely entertaining.

But it was hard to miss when Andrew nervously appeared in her doorway one evening and said, instead of ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’, “Grandmother has asked to meet you.”

Astra gaped. Queen Cerridwen, King Eoan’s mother, had never met any of the Illéan royals in-person. Maybe she’d met Uncle Maxon back before he was King, when she was still the active queen, but maybe not even then. “Me? Wh…why?”

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in a way that would have been funny if he hadn’t look so stressed. He sank to his knees to sit next to Astra, who’d been sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to hold her nail polish bottles as she painted her toes. “The rumors got to her.”

“Rumors… about us?”

Andrew nodded, “I’ve had the press department squashing everything the second they hear about it, and it’s bought us some time, but the rumors have been consistent for long enough now—“

“The rumors that we’re spending time together?” Astra asked.

“Yes.” Andrew looked faintly nauseous.

Astra smiled and traced his cheekbone with her thumb soothingly, “We are spending time together. We’re not being falsely accused.”

“No, I know… I think, just… I think we need to talk.”

Those were heavy words.

Kile had been the last one to say those words to her, and the outcome had been really unpleasant.

“You didn’t bring wine?” Astra noticed for the first time.

“I wanted us to keep our heads clear.”

“Are you ending this?” Astra asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” Andrew promised. “But we’ve never talked about what this is before. I’ve been able to buy us a little slice of time to ourselves, but I’ve reached the end of my tricks.”

Astra looked into his eyes carefully, noticing the strain there for the first time, “You never said you had to use tricks…”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. I wanted to be… uncomplicated. Simple. After everything you’ve been through, I thought that you needed simplicity.”

“I did.” she admitted, chest suddenly aching at the thought that the simple times might be gone.

He brushed an errant curl behind her ear and smiled bracingly, “I am not here to tell you that the world is ending. Merely that people have found us out. They’re asking questions that I do not have the answers to, and in lieu of my answers, they are coming to their own conclusions. Grandmother amongst the rest.”

“She wants to meet me because she knows we’ve been dating?”

Andrew huffed a breath, “It’s her way of forcing the matter at hand. When it comes to me, to dating the English Heir, there is dating and there is Dating. Courting. Something official, not just between you and I, but between us and all of England.”

Astra looked a little creeped out at the thought, “They… want in on our dates?”

Andrew rubbed his brow, “In a manner of speaking… there comes a point when I’m meant to introduce anyone I am seeing to the people of England as a potential future queen.”

“Why? It’s not like they get to vote on who stays in your bed, or in our case, my bed.”

“No, but it’s…” he seemed so uncomfortable at having to explain this to her. Probably any English girl he dated would have seen this coming a mile away and known what to expect. Astra blushed a little, feeling inadequate for the first time all spring. “It’s a bit like a small Selection, perhaps. They get to know the person their prince is dating and they get to watch me court their future queen.”

“Oh, and your gramma wants you to do that with me?” What a relief to know she was just a confused old woman who’d misunderstood.

“Precisely. Meeting Grandmother at her estate in Scotland would signal the official start to our official courtship.”

Astra felt all the tension leave her body and she smirked at him, “Your gramma is proposing marriage to me on your behalf.”

“Basically.”

“What’s she in such a hurry for? We’re teenagers.”

Andrew let out an exasperated sigh, relieved now that he could see Astra wasn’t panicking and throwing everything she owned into a bag to haul back to Illéa on the first flight out the next morning. “I don’t know. You’re a good match, obviously. My father is close with your uncle, but it would be smart to solidify that alliance with some kind of marriage.”

“Very sexy and romantic.” Astra giggled.

“Isn’t it just?” he agreed wryly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, “I suppose she’s worried because I’ll be king in a few more years. She doesn’t want me to have to go through that enormous transition of responsibility by myself. I suppose finding a queen would be much harder as king than as prince, too. Father’s even asked me if I want to take a few months next year and devote myself to dating full time before he begins handing off responsibilities to me in earnest. As part of a formal ascension plan.”

“What a conversation.”

“You can’t begin to imagine.”

Astra collapsed into giggles, doing her best to imagine it anyway. King Eoan asking his son if he wanted to be a full-time, 40-hours-per-week dater as part of his obligations to the crown.

“It’s good you think this is funny.” he sulked, but he only partially meant it. He was genuinely glad she was laughing instead of crying.

Fairly certain her toes were dry now, Astra stood and screwed the caps on her polish, stashing the bottles in a drawer next to her vanity. She stretched, fingers reached for the ceiling, going up on her toes, and as she came down she whisked her loose t-shirt over her head.

“Astra.” Andrew cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from her lacy, pale blue and white bra, “Clear heads, remember?”

“I’m just getting comfortable.” she said in a voice that clearly told him she was not just getting comfortable.

He stood and she came over and loosened his tie for him. He placed a hand over hers when she made for his shirt’s buttons and said, “Do you want this to last past April?”

Astra gulped, “I wish April was forever.”

He stared at her, the only flicker of doubt coming from the small twitch of his eyebrow. “That’s not the same thing.”

“… I know.”

“You don’t have to answer me tonight, but we should talk about it. If we keep going past April, I suspect it will make the most sense for you… for you to meet grandmother.”

This time, when Astra continued with his buttons, it was a genuine effort to help him get comfortable, and not a ploy to see his bare chest. Seeing his bare chest was an undeniable bonus, though. She linked her fingers with his and dragged him towards her bed, and then she flopped down on her back and stared up at the top of her four poster canopy. “So what would happen after I met your grandmother?”

“You’d get some secret service protection.” Andrew laid on his stomach and used his finger to draw doodles on the smooth, soft skin above her navel. His breath felt warm as it puffed against her ribs, but her skin erupted in goosebumps anyway, and he pressed a chaste kiss to them. He knew the effect he had on her, and it only made him want to cherish her more.

“I’d go back to Illéa, though. To Waverly.”

“Yes. We’d coordinate that. It would probably be a less hectic place for you than in England.”

“You think England will be hectic if you announce we’re officially dating?”

Andrew huffed one dry, humorless laugh. “When they find out I’m thinking of making you their princess… sweetheart, it’s going to be a nightmare of a circus.”

“Terrifying clowns?”

“The most terrifying.” he agreed.

Astra sighed, “Then what? How long would we get to date before they’d expect you to decide whether you want to marry me or not?”

“Given the time you’d be spending in Illéa, we could get a year.”

“A year.” Astra liked the sound of that. Sure, she’d dance until her contract was up in Waverly, but then she’d come back and get to do this with Andrew for months and months. His dad might even let him date her full-time. Morning, noon, and night cuddles.

“Yes, and then…”

“And then a fairytale proposal. Would it have to be public?”

“Gosh, no.” Andrew promised. “But it would need to have a good story behind it. Take you somewhere meaningful—“

“Like the club where we first kissed.” Astra teased, running her hands through his hair.

“No, not at all.” he chuckled.

“And would I get to wear one of the crown jewels or something?”

Andrew lifted his head to look at her. “Would you want one?”

Astra laughed. It was all so completely silly. She was an eighteen year old girl! A boy was offering her a crown jewel! She laughed some more.

“Our engagement would be six months, eight at most.” he said. “That’s going to be the hardest time for you. You won’t be royal yet, but you’ll have all the expectations. Of course, you’d have everything you’d need from us. Security, education, an allowance for your clothes.”

“Mmm, clothes.”

“And then—“

“A royal wedding?”

“Yes.”

“And a royal honeymoon?”

“Of course.” he pressed another kiss to her skin, this one not so chaste.

“And then I’m your princess?”

“Until we take our oaths to become king and queen.”

“You really think I could be queen?”

“You think you couldn’t?”

“I know how hard it is on my Aunt Ames. It’s not really the life I saw for myself.”

“It’s different in England, you know. We’re smaller than most Illéan provinces, and we’ve got parliament.”

She couldn’t continue to fantasize about marrying him without understanding what he meant when he said that. “Andy, how does parliament help you?”

“Eh… help is not the word.” Andrew admitted. “It’s more that they take certain responsibilities off the monarch’s plate. Whether they do so in a manner that helps is an entirely different question. But unlike Queen America, who assists on many matters of policy and diplomacy, my mother’s job is almost entirely ceremonial, supporting my father’s efforts.”

“So do you think I could dance if we were married?”

Andrew fell quiet, wracking his brain for a way. “Not once we were engaged… I just can’t imagine that you would have time. And you’d quickly become one of the most famous women in the world… not that you’re anonymous now, just that we’re talking about a whole different stratosphere of public interest… even if we found time for you to dance in the royal ballet, it might not be safe.”

Astra hated that answer, but it made perfect sense to her. Addy had never regularly commuted into the city for any reason. Keeping her safe during recurring, publicly open performances would have been a nightmare, and Astra supposed that would be true for her too.

Astra also knew she wasn’t going to dance forever. She probably had a good ten or twelve years before retirement, and that was only if she avoided any major injuries. In Astra’s experience, injuries and pregnancies were two of the most common reasons dancers retired younger than thirty and they were both to be avoided.

“How long do you think we could put all of this off? I don’t want to stop dancing.”

“I know. I want you to dance! You’re bloody magnificent when you dance.”

“Just when I dance?” she teased suggestively.

“Other times too.” he smirked up at her. He let his face fall gently on her stomach, breathing in the smell of her body wash and then lifting his head again, “I could tell Grandmother we’re not yet ready. You could go to Waverly and come back for visits now and again.”

“Sounds like I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you too.”

“Sounds better to me, though.”

“I suppose it must. The people mightn’t be fooled, they’ll still expect something is happening between us.”

“They’d be right.”

“But Astra… No matter what, I’ll be King four years from now. There’s no delaying that. ”

“That’s a long time, Andy.”

“I can’t… you must understand, I’d need to know for certain by then.”

“Of course!”

“Ideally… Ideally I would be married by then so that we could share the coronation ceremony.”

“So we could have a wedding earlier that fall? You’d propose that spring? That gives us a few years. That gives me time to dance.”

“But would it be enough?”

“Three years is forever, Andy.” Astra grinned down at him.

“And you’d really consider being my queen?”

“I’d consider a lot of things for blue eyes like yours.”

“They are an important part of the benefits package.” he agreed, placing an arm on either side of her and bringing himself up so that they were eye to eye. “Along with lots of travel to exotic locations. The finest champagne money can buy. Famous designers tripping over themselves to clothe you. A handful of palaces. Lots of diamonds.” he punctuated each of these offers with a deep, heated kiss and by the end Astra was absolutely dizzy and in no state to negotiate her future job benefits.

***

By the end of the week it was not just one photographer waiting outside of the ballet studio anymore, there were dozens. They were aggressive and pushy, yelling her name and constantly demanding she tell them if she was seeing Andrew. Her Illéan security detail was not pleased. The theater that housed the ballet was difficult to secure against so many persistent intruders, and there was serious discussion about whether they could even let her finish the seminar. They also discussed calling King Maxon and asking him for reinforcements, which made Astra’s stomach feel sick. She didn’t want her uncle to have to pay money and spare resources to send across the world to her all because of her love life.

It was a tense day and a half before Andrew was able to come through with security of his own to supplement her detail. It had been a tough thing to organize, given she wasn’t officially his girlfriend, but he’d found a way for her.

If Astra knew anything in those days, it was that he would always find a way for her. That had never been the problem.

There were reporters outside of Astra’s palace now, night and day, and they marked each time Andrew came or went. Instead of lounging together on the balcony overlooking the city, Astra and Andrew had to draw the curtains closed for the sake of their privacy.

“We should just tell them we’re not really dating.” Astra said. “I can’t outright lie to them.” Andrew insisted. “I can’t break trust with my people. I don’t have to confirm we’re together, but I can’t just tell them we’re not.”

“There’s got to be a way… tell them we have no intention of courting right now. That’s not a lie, is it?”

“It’s a bit transparent.” Andrew pointed out.

“Well, I’d love to hear your better idea!”

Andrew sighed into her hair. They were dancing to the music on the television, its glow the only light in her bedroom. “Maybe we break up. And I tell them we broke up.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Astra suddenly sounded so small and vulnerable, he squeezed her tighter, “No! Not really. Not in that way. It’s just a way we can… buy you some more time before we have to fess up to anything.”

Astra didn’t want to fake-break up with Andrew. She wanted the entire world to leave them to their peace and quiet in their little palace of domestic bliss forever. What was so complicated about that?

Andrew had the idea of staying away one night to try to relieve some of the heat, but all it did was leave Astra pacing the floor alone, listening to the rumble of dozens of people camped out on the street in front of her palace all night.

Astra and Andrew were summoned by Queen Waverly the next day and sat down together on the sofa in her office.

Everything about it was embarrassing. Andy’s mother needed to know how long they had been romantic, how far their romance had gone, how serious they were about their future together, and why Andrew had turned down his grandmother’s invitation.

“Lovey, she wasn’t trying to force your hand.” Waverly told Andrew sympathetically. “What’s happening now out there… it’s going to get worse, the longer we let the media spin itself up into a frenzy.”

Astra said, “I only have a week and a half left, your Majesty—“

“Astra.” Waverly reproached the use of her title. “We’re having this discussion as family. Call me Aunt Waverly… if you’re marrying my son, call me Mum.”

Astra gulped, looking at Andrew, lost.

“We’ve only been together a few months, we don’t know—“ Andrew spoke up, until Waverly nodded and held up her hand to silence him.

“I understand entirely.” She turned her head to the side to study a giant portrait of one of Andy’s female ancestors. “Listen you two, I know that this is a complicated situation. The only thing that will help is being forthright with the people.”

“If Astra meets grandmother, the people will be demanding a proposal by Christmas.”

“Perhaps so.”

“We’re not ready for that.” Andrew was keeping a lid on his princely composure, but Astra could tell he felt hopelessly trapped by his mother and the palace and his people beyond its walls. He was ready to rattle the cages.

Waverly nodded, “Your father and I will do everything we possibly can for you, you know that. We only want your happiness. But things are getting very intense, very fast out there. That’s happening because you’re choosing not to do things the conventional way. You must understand that.”

Very intense, very fast. That was Astra’s whole relationship with Andrew in a nutshell.

“It’s just a week and a half.” Astra reiterated. “Then I’ll be back in Illéa and the press can calm down for a while.”

“The speculation won’t stop until it is addressed by us, and it might even turn ugly.” Waverly warned. “When you stop giving them fresh photograph opportunities every day at your ballet house, when there aren’t rumors flying about sightings of the two of you all over London—“

“Not true, by the way.” Andrew said.

“Some of them could be.” Astra reminded him.

“Only the very old ones. We’ve not been out in a fortnight.”

Astra nodded.

“My point is, in a vacuum of real news, someone will invent rumors to splash on their tabloids. It will be anything and everything. Abuse, affairs, pregnancy out of wedlock, Astra will be a gold digger who broke Andy’s heart one week, the next week Andy will be a womanizing fiend who took advantage of a childhood friend. Relations between England and Illéa will be on the brink—“

“They won’t!” Astra objected.

“Only in the magazines.” Waverly replied. “But we wouldn't want any hostile nations thinking the rumors were true and attempting to take advantage of the supposed rift. You see how this could spiral?”

The room fell to silence for the first time. Astra shivered just a little, “I feel like I’ve been tossed into a tornado.”

“It gets better." Waverly promised. “Once you’re proactive about telling your own story, it gets harder for the media to frenzy over half-credible unattributed rumors.”

Astra buried her face in her hands. She’d thought she’d have years before she had to tell the media a story about her relationship with Andrew. It felt wrong that the people of England were forcing an eighteen year old girl to move so quickly.

“I just need time.” Astra said into her hands.

“Right.” Waverly made up her mind and stood, “In that case, Eoan and I are inviting you to stay here with us for the rest of your visit, Astra. We’ll tell the media that we’re very much looking forward to spending time with you before the end of your trip.”

“No, wait…” Astra looked up, heartbroken that she was losing her private little palace. Would she even get to go back and say goodbye to it?

“This isn’t a punishment, sweetheart.” Waverly sighed and then tugged Astra up to standing, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re not in trouble. Not one little bit. You’ll have more privacy here, behind our gates and with all of our guards. You’ll have one of our cars to drive you to and from the ballet, and Andy won’t be caught coming and going at all hours of the night because he already lives here… or he did before you came to town.” she said the last part teasingly to her oldest son, who had the temerity to blush at his shamelessness.

Astra felt her eyes sting with tears, “I love that palace… it’s been a good home for me.”

Waverly smiled sweetly, “You’ll be welcome to stay there the next time you come back. If you and Andrew announce an engagement, we’ll fully staff the place for you so that it’s safer. Perhaps you and Andrew could use it as your home for the time between your marriage and his assumption of the crown.”

“Really?” Andrew looked enticed by the offer.

“You’ll need to live somewhere, dear. You couldn’t live with your parents as newlyweds, it would be unbearable.” Waverly teased. “England would never get an heir that way.”

Heirs.

Hearing the queen say that word in this palace, next to the crown prince made it feel very real and very scary. Did Astra want her kids to be heirs? She thought again of Addy and Jamesy… she loved them more than anything in the world, but she couldn’t imagine raising her children for such an incredible responsibility.

Waverly continued softly, “The main thing is, we need to be very delicate here, my loves. When Andrew becomes king, he will become the head of the church. Please understand, I do not mind what you the two of you do or don’t do, so long as you are safe and consenting.”

“Mother.” Andy squirmed.

“But it would put Andrew in a difficult position, becoming head of the church, if he was seen to have a… well a marriage-style relationship with a woman who was not his wife for too long.”

“Yes, heaven forbid I have a healthy, long-term girlfriend.” Andy scowled.

“It’s the vows to God that are the issue at hand, not heaven, and you know it.” Waverly scolded his sass quietly, but efficiently.

“So we break up.” Astra concluded. “We officially break up when I go back to Illéa, and then when it’s time, I come back to England and we publicly reunite… you don’t have any church issues, and I have time to dance.”

Waverly looked between them quietly. “It might be the only option, short of scheduling dinner with your grandmother.”

Andrew looked almost as sad as if the breakup was real. Maybe he was scared it would become real once Astra was out of the whirlwind. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed, “We’ll figure this out.”

He squeezed back twice, gently.

***

That night Astra slept in Andrew’s bedroom for the first time in their entire affair.

“The maids are gonna know.”

“Everyone knows.” he snorted into her hair. “That’s why we’re here and not across town in our own palace.”

“Your parents are in the building.” she complained when his hands began wandering her body.

“Not close enough to hear anything.”

“Still… what if they have to walk by for a glass of water or something?”

“You want me to keep my hands to myself tonight?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so shall we see who can be quietest?” he brushed his fingers across her ribs and she quietly shrieked a giggle. “You are so bad at this, darling.”

“Oh yeah?” she got her revenge with vicious tickles, exploiting every sensitive spot she’d found on his body the last few months.

***

Living in the English palace was an easy adjustment for Astra. She'd grown up in Illéa Palace which, as the functioning capital building of one of the largest nations in the world, was larger and had a much bigger staff. The English palace was certainly ancient and stately, but Astra had grown up visiting the place, so at least she wasn’t too dazzled to see this for what it was.

There was no more delivery from local restaurants once those palace gates were closed, but the royal chef made sure that Andy and Astra had everything they wanted delivered to one of their rooms each night, so that wasn’t actually too much of a change. Not only that, but the maids were discrete and only came onto their floor when Andrew was at work and Astra was at the ballet for the day, so it was almost like their bedrooms magically tidied themselves up each day.

Really, the biggest change for Astra had been weeks before, when rumors had started flying and she and Andrew had stopped venturing out into London. Andrew still appeared in her doorway just in time for dinner, looking handsome and happy to see her. They still shared good meals and long baths, and a warm bed each night. But now the illusion that time didn't exist and that they could continue peacefully, blissfully existing in their little bubble forever was burst.

Since the royal palace hadn't released a statement about the gorgeous young foreign princess living in the same palace as their handsome young future king, salacious headlines were beginning to trickle from tabloids to increasingly reputable news sources. Astra and Andrew's private affair wasn’t so private anymore.

Some part of Astra had been hoping that the rumors would die down once she and Andrew had retreated into the palace, even though she knew better. But on her second-to-final rehearsal before her big seminar performance, photographers started camping out overnight at the stage door to the ballet, not just hounding Astra but harassing her fellow dancers, too. It was humiliating to think that these world-class performers, some of whom Astra had idolized for years, were getting manhandled on their way to and from work every day because of Astra’s love life. She wasn’t sure her reputation in the industry would ever recover from this. Who would want to work with her when her very presence could cause such a disruption?

She cried in the backseat of the car on her way back to the royal palace that day, but she had big sunglasses on, and at least no photographers caught her moment of weakness.

“I don’t want to be the girl who’s dating the future king. I want to be a damn good dancer.” Astra said that night, her cheek pressed to Andrew’s chest as he drew swirling designs on her bare back with his fingers.

“You are both.”

“You don’t understand… you literally can’t.”

“What?” Andrew wasn’t insulted, which was the great thing about him. He was always humble about his own limitations. “Why can I not understand?”

“Have you ever looked up to someone who was truly excellent at the very thing that you wanted to be truly excellent at?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“King Maxon.”

Astra rolled her eyes and lifted her head so he could see her at it. “You met him when you could still count your age on one hand.”

“So?”

“So most people never get to meet their idols, and if they do it’s because they’ve worked extremely hard to become very good at something. There are choreographers and dancers at this seminar that I’ve admired for a decade. And now my presence is turning their workplace, a place I consider to be sacred, into a hostile circus.”

Andrew frowned down at her and said softly, “Did I not promise you terrifying clowns?”

“I don’t want to bring chaos to every stage I cross.” Astra pouted.

Andrew nodded and said, “So we should announce our breakup immediately. I’ll release a statement tomorrow, and ask a friend of mine to appear in public with me tomorrow night… a woman. It won’t cure everything overnight, but it would surely alleviate some of the pressure.”

Astra stared into his eyes, then studied the line of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. “That’s a lot of trouble to go through just for me.”

“Astra, are you joking? You’re the one going through trouble for me.”

Astra nodded, but she dropped a kiss onto his lips anyway. “Okay, but the breakup is fake.” her lips danced over his.

His teeth gently teased her lower lip as he replied, “Yeah. I noticed.”

***

As warm and inviting as the arms holding her were, Astra had a difficult time staying asleep that night. She was nervous about returning to rehearsals the next morning, nervous about their final performance, now only a couple of days away, nervous about her new relationship with Andrew, and nervous about being nervous about her new relationship with Andrew.

At around four in the morning she slipped out of bed and tiptoed back to her suite, where she found a pitcher of water and a tray of snacks waiting for her. She spent so many hours of her day exercising that sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night ravenously, painfully hungry, so she’d requested that she be left some snacks just in case. She picked at a scone, lost in her anxieties, and her stress about not being able to sleep, until the telephone next to her bed rang so loudly and shrilly that it caused her to jump and splash some of her glass of water onto her night shirt.

“Hello?” Astra picked up the phone, hoping to hear an Illéan voice on the other end of the line. She hadn’t spoken to Addy in a few days, and it had been almost a week since her Aunt Ames or Uncle Maxon had phoned. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in longer than that, but they’d be arriving in London in less that twenty-four hours so that they could watch her final performance, so she wasn’t too desperate to speak to them.

And while the voice on the other line was Illéan, it definitely wasn’t one she had been expecting.

“Hey.”

Astra’s stomach clenched and her body flooded with adrenaline. She reminded herself to behave like a normal person and not like a lunatic when, as casually as she could, she replied, “Kile? Is that you?” like she didn’t know. Like she wouldn’t know his voice anywhere, anytime, under any circumstance. She knew his voice better than she knew her own.

“Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night over there. …You don’t sound like you were sleeping, though.”

He would know.

Astra gulped hard, “I needed a snack.” It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth.

“Hm. Is he there then?”

Astra felt defensive anger flare up in her chest, and only later realized that the anger was covering a sense of guilt. “So what if he is? You broke up with me—“

“Astra—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m not saying that in a mean way. I’m stating a fact. We are not together because you broke up with me, so why do you care if he’s here?”

There was a long pause and then a low groan on the other end of the phone. Astra heard a brush of fabric over his microphone, as if he’d been rubbing his face and his sleeve caught on the receiver.

“I want to know if he’s there, because I want to talk to you when you’re alone. It’s why I’m calling so late… or early, I guess.” Kile said.

Astra’s traitor heart beat faster. What did he want to talk to her about when she was alone? Was he going to apologize? Was he going to ask for her back?

It was too late, obviously. Astra had obviously moved on. Obviously. “He’s not here.”

Kile sounded relieved when he said, “Good.” and that annoyed Astra. He had no right to be relieved that she wasn’t in bed with another man. He’d hurt her in a way she’d never known she could hurt before.

She lashed out, “I didn’t want to wake him up with my snacking. But he’ll probably notice I’m gone soon, so you should hurry up and say what you want to say.”

The pained sound that snuck out of his throat with his next exhale was not as satisfying as Astra had hoped it would be. She regretted her words already. Maybe now he wouldn’t ask for her back… not that she wanted him to.

Kile said, “Let me ask you something…”

This was it. He was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to ask her to come back to Illéa and be with him.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?” Kile said.

What was he expecting her to say? That she wanted him? She was dating the Crown Prince of England!

“Astra?”

“What do you mean, Kile?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? For our whole lives you’ve always wanted one thing more than anything in the world. What is it?”

Oh. Astra replied almost mechanically, her voice barely above a mumble, “I want to be the Prima Ballerina for the Angeles Ballet for at least a season, maybe two.”

“And you wanted that enough that you didn’t even think about moving closer to my university, because it would have taken you away from the Angeles ballet. And not for a good reason, like that invitation you got to dance in Waverly. For no reason. For me.”

“You’re not no reason—“

“No, I’m just not a good enough reason.”

“Kile—“

“You can’t argue with that.”

“You said you wouldn’t promise to look for apprenticeships and internships in the cities where I was dancing. You said you don’t want to live in Angeles when you grow up!”

“I don’t. I’m going to go where I can do my best work.” he said plainly. “I still think you and I made a good choice to split up.”

Hearing him say that was hard. She wanted him to regret it. She wanted him to miss her like she had missed him before Andrew had swept her off her feet. Losing him had changed her and she would never be the same as she was before, and he wasn’t even sorry.

Kile continued, “I’m just saying… what was the point of drawing a line in the sand about you and me if you were just going to walk all over it for Andy?”

“What?”

“We both know that you’ll never be prima anything if you marry Andy. You told me yourself, every waking hour of a prima’s life is devoted to dancing or preparing to dance. There are no hobbies, no vacations, no date nights. There definitely isn't time to be somebody’s princess.”

“I’m already an Illéan Prin—“

“Cut the shit, Astra, you know what I mean.” Kile sounded exasperated, and she knew why. She was trying to miss his point, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it so dodging it was proving impossible.

“Maybe I want something else now. Maybe I want to marry Andrew.”

“Look… Andy’s not a bad guy—“ Kile admitted through gritted teeth, “But there will be plenty of not bad guys waiting for you after you retire. So if you pick him, do it because you want the life he’ll give you more than the life you can earn for yourself. And be ready to bury your dreams of being a prima ballerina forever, if you do. I know you, and I know you’re getting swept up in this—“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some helpless little… little damsel, Kile.” Astra snapped.

“Think about it logistically. Do you want to move to the other side of the world from your parents and your little brothers? They’ll visit you as often as they can, but your visits to Illéa will always be to the Palace, to King Maxon and Addy. You won’t be able to go home again. Do you want to have to keep a royal schedule, planned months and years in advance? And you can forget being around from Addy once she becomes queen, you’ll be trapped on the far side of an ocean.”

“Kile—“ Astra tried to interrupt him because she wanted him to stop making sense.

“What about the little things? What about the weather? You’re an Angeles girl, are you going to miss the sun? You know they use different numbers for temperature over there, right? How’s it going to feel to wake up in the morning and have some maid tell you that it’s twenty-five degrees outside, so you’d better stay in the shade to keep cool?”

“Kile.” Astra laughed.

“I’m serious. You’re not just choosing a career here, Astra, you’re choosing a life: from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.” Kile paused and let out a tired sigh. “I just don’t want you to make a big mistake that you can’t undo. I know how badly you want to dance. You’re not ready for this, and even if you were, this wouldn’t be the right choice for you.”

“I’ve changed, Kile.” she wanted to add that he’d changed her. That losing him had made her someone new, someone she didn’t even know yet, but she kept that part to herself. Listening to his voice for so long that night… suddenly she found that she didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“It’s barely been three months, Astra. You haven’t changed that much.” he promised.

Astra wasn’t sure. Sometimes change was gradual, sure, but sometimes change was all at once. Traumatic change was a sudden shattering of what came before, such that one could never go back again. That was what losing Kile had been like.

But did that mean she wanted to give up dancing and become Andrew’s princess? His queen? His wife and the mother of his heirs? Did she want to leave Illéa forever and eventually move into this palace?

She wanted all of that when she was wrapped up in Andrew’s arms.

But here, alone in the middle of the night when she had her wits about her…

She climbed back into bed and woke Andrew up with steady, gentle kisses. Everything about the love they made that morning was slow and desperate, and even though she hadn’t meant it to, in the end it felt like goodbye.

***

Astra was gone to her final rehearsals before dawn, but later that morning Andrew was true to his word and made a big announcement that he and Astra had both been secretly dating, and were now publicly broken up. He made a good show of wandering around London looking sad that day, and that night he went out to dinner with a fashion model friend, who did not mind the publicity one little bit.

There were still plenty of photographers salivating at the chance to photograph Astra looking dismal at having lost the chance to become an English princess, but at least they were leaving the rest of the dancers, and everyone else associated with the ballet, in peace.

Astra’s parents arrived at the royal palace in time for dinner that night, and Astra had a lot of explaining to do to them. King Eoan and Queen Waverly seemed to find Astra’s discomfort at explaining her affair with Andrew to her parents over roasted asparagus incredibly amusing, and possibly reminiscent of the beginning of their own relationship. It wasn’t fair, though. Andrew missed all the “fun”, making sure it looked like he was rebounding with that gorgeous model.

That night, Astra was too nervous about her impending final performance to wait up for Andrew to get back to the Palace. She could go to bed early or never at all. She drank some tea laced with a little bit of melatonin and fell asleep soon after dinner.

She woke up in Andrew’s arms, her cheek pressed to the side of his bare chest. She listened to him breathe deeply and evenly for a little while and tried one last time.

She could quit dancing.

She could leave Illéa forever.

She could raise her children to be heirs.

Her children could raise their children to be heirs.

When she died, her bones could be interred in a big old church.

Her whole life could be that easy.

God, it would be so easy.

“Andy?” she whispered.

He didn’t stir.

“Andrew?” she tried again, this time pulling away from him and sitting up in bed.

He didn’t hear her, but he reacted to the loss of her warmth, and eventually his heavy eyelids fluttered open. “Astra?”

“What time did you get in last night?”

“This morning.” He admitted, yawning widely. “I expect the tabloids will be plastered with headlines about their debaucherous future king today.”

“Was it any fun?”

“Yeah. Ellie’s great; she’s always happy to be photographed on my arm. Missed you, though.” he added, as if suddenly awake enough to worry that she was jealous.

She wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. Well, the slightest bit, but not for the reasons he would assume. Astra was jealous because Ellie could keep being photographed on Andrew’s arm for as long as she pleased, with no consequences.

“Maybe you should marry Ellie.” Astra suggested.

Andrew laughed, and it turned into a yawn. Then he explained, “Ellie’s too focused on her career right now. And anyway, she’d be far more interested in you.”

“Now that would be a tabloid headline.” Astra joked weakly.

“What’s the matter? Are you nervous for your performance? Is it because you’re leaving England this time tomorrow? Is it because you told your parents what’s been happening between us—“

“I’m not nervous.” Astra said, even though her stomach was in knots. Those weren’t nerves. That was grief. “Andy… I want to be a ballet dancer.”

Andrew sat up in bed now and rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could focus on her. The words were familiar, but her tone was alarming. “Of course you do. You are a ballet dancer, and you’re bloody brilliant.”

“I want to be a prima ballerina.”

“Okay.”

“That sort of excellence takes years to achieve.”

“Good job you’ve been dancing since you were four years old, then.”

“Shh.” she pressed a finger to his lips so that he would stop talking back and listen to her. He complied. “I won’t be ready to be a prima for seven or eight years. I have a lot to learn. And when I’m ready, I want to be a Prima Ballerina for at least one season, maybe two. That’s every waking hour devoted to dance for two years straight. Then I want to live in Angeles and stay close to Addy in the first few years of her reign. I want to be there when she gets married and has babies, because she is great at putting on a brave face and absolutely terrible at processing the emotions that are scaring her into needing to be brave. She’s going to need me, and I’m excited to be there for her. I can’t live on a different continent than my dad. There can’t such a huge time difference between me and my mom. I can’t be a foreign queen. I don’t want to be foreign at all. Andrew… I can’t marry you.” Her cheeks were wet and her voice cracked, but she didn’t know when, in that little breathless tirade, she’d started crying.

Andrew stared blankly ahead, hugging his knees to his chest around their blanket. He didn’t look surprised. He’d known she was too good to be true all along. Finding his queen could never have been so easy, so perfect. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“Andy, none of those reasons I gave have anything to do with you. I love you. You’re a good man, and a great partner, and you have no business being such a talented kisser when you’re so handsome. It’s overkill.” she waited for him to smile. She waited for him to do anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Andrew. I just can’t marry you. I’m eighteen years old, I just got control of my life. I’m not ready to sign it over to a monarchy. I would love to be your wife, Andy, but I would hate to be your queen.”

Andrew blinked hard, then looked over at her. His voice was too casual, his words were too easy when he said, “I understand entirely. I can wait.”

Astra furrowed her brow, trying to hold his far off gaze. “Wait? What do you mean, wait?”

“You want to be a prima ballerina, and you said it would take you nine or ten years to accomplish your goal. Fine. I will wait, and when you’re ready I’ll ask to marry you.”

“No, Andy—“

“I don’t mind ruling on my own for a while.”

“That’s more than a while! You’ll be king in four years—“

“It isn’t a problem.” he insisted.

“Did you hear the part about what I want to do after I retire? About living in Illéa, about staying close to my family?”

“Astra, once we’re married, you can do whatever you like.”

“But queens have responsibilities.”

“We can redefine the role to mean whatever you’d like it to mean. I don’t care. I love you, Astra, and you’re the best future queen I could ever hope for.”

Astra paused, blinking hard against the tears in her eyes. It hurt to hear him say that. It hurt to realize that he didn’t believe he deserved any better. “Andy, that’s not true. You deserve a wife who will stay by your side. You deserve a wife who adores you and would be willing to sacrifice her own ambitions to serve England. I’m not good enough to be your queen.”

“Then no one ever will be.”

“Andrew—“

“Let me wait for you, Astra, please.” His voice broke on that last work, his eyes finally meeting hers and betraying his anguish. “Let me hope. It’s all that I have left.”

Astra couldn’t figure out what would be crueler, to let him hope when she’d made up her mind, or to take that hopeless hope away from him.

So she wrapped him up in her arms and they laid down. She combed her fingers through his hair and he brushed his thumb against her ribs until her alarm clock rang and her last day in London began.

***

In retrospect, Astra should have chosen a happy, upbeat, peppy song for her exhibition. She could have flounced all over the stage and spun a ridiculous number of times on her toes, and allowed her partner to toss her all over the place with an enormous smile on her face.

Instead, she’d chosen an exhibition from a ballet about a woman mourning her dead lover, dancing with his ghost. She’d been thinking of Kile when she’d chosen it, hoping it would help her work out her feelings about their doomed childhood romance. Now she was about to take the stage of the royal ballet, with Andrew and his parents in the royal box, watching her close enough that she could see the pained look on Andrew’s face as clear as anything.

Astra and her dance partner, Geoffrey, took their place while the stage was lit in nothing but the darkest of blue lights. He laid down across on their only set piece, an enormous fake rock, and Astra settled over him in a dramatic pose of despair, arm flung over her forehead.

The first part of the dance was hers alone. Her grief, her agony, her desperation. None of it was fake. When Geoffrey arose, as a ghost, and began dancing with her, the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow was easy to tap into. Nothing brought her more joy than dancing, and nothing brought her more sorrow in that moment than Andrew watching her live the life she’d chosen over him.

When Geoffrey faded back into the fog upstage and left Astra alone again in the center of the stage, all the passion and desperation fled with him. The rest of the dance was small and slow, painfully precise movements timed with the orchestra just so that if she made the slightest misstep, it would be immediately, embarrassingly obvious.

But Astra did not have to fake the exhaustion and resignation her character was feeling. If she allowed herself to second guess her decision to break away from Andrew now, she’d second guess it forever. The roar of the audience as the last tremulous notes from the string section died away seemed to make a deafening contrast.

Astra was surprised to find tears had started pouring down her cheeks somewhere during that performance. Geoffrey returned and took her hand, and they bowed. As was customary for this exhibition, several members of the audience threw flowers onto the stage. From the third row, Astra’s dad threw a whole bouquet, and a little teddy bear. Astra laughed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she turned to the royal box to curtsey, perfectly observing royal protocol, and was startled to find that Andrew had been crying, too.

He tossed her a single white rose with a beautiful red satin ribbon tied around the stem, but the look on his face was resignation. He could love her with all of his heart for all of his life and still never be able to give her the kind of affirmation she got from a packed theater full of an adoring audience. He’d seen her dance dozens of times in her room at her little palace, and hell, he’d even danced with her himself. But seeing her like this in front of them…

He could wait until the oceans ran dry and the mountains fell flat, and every single star in the sky flickered into darkness… Astra was never coming back to him.

Astra spent that night with her parents, letting them gush over her and spoil her with presents, and help her pack up the life she’d made in London for the last few months. She hoped Andrew would come and say goodbye once her parents went back to the suite they were staying in, but he never appeared, and Astra didn’t chase him down because she thought he deserved to set the terms. That dance had been her goodbye to him. It was up to him whether he wanted to say goodbye in return.

The next morning, Queen Waverly was the only one in the entrance hall waiting to see the Orders family off as they left. The English Royal jet would take them as far as Carolina, where they would visit James’ family for a little while.

Astra imagined Andrew’s private car speeding out onto the tarmac to stop them. She imagined him dashing from the backseat and waving his arms to alert the pilots that they couldn’t leave until he’d said his farewells.

He didn’t come. It was easier this way.

Kenna and James stayed with Astra’s grandparents for a few days, but James had to go back to work and Kenna needed to get back to the Palace. Aunt Ames had five children, two of them under the age of six, and though they had plenty of help in that Palace, Kenna was their primary nanny, their aunt, and she missed them like crazy.

Astra stayed with her grandparents for a couple of weeks, until her contract at the Waverly Ballet began. The media frenzy around her got much better in that time, though it was impossible not to notice that things were staying hectic around Andrew as the English tabloids seemed to catch on to how severely he’d had his heart broken.

Astra wished she could take some of that public shame away.

She wished she could take some of his pain away, even as she was mending her own broken heart. Her weeks in Carolina were good for that purpose. Her grandparents spoiled her rotten, and she gave her body a much-needed break from dancing. Instead, she spent her days learning needlepoint from her grandmother, and her nights stargazing out by the pond where her parents used to sneak off on dates before Gramma Magda gave up trying to convince Kenna to marry someone from a higher caste.

When Astra packed her bags to take the short flight up to Waverly to begin yet another new life with another new ballet company, she was still wearing the beautiful red ribbon that Andrew gave her as a parting gift on that rose, tied around her wrist.

And when, years later, she sat on her sofa and watched him become King of England in front of the entire world, her fingers traced that now slightly frayed red ribbon, Andy’s last gift to her, in a familiar, much-practiced gesture.

It would have been so easy to say yes, to give in to the pressure and let herself get swept away by the English people, the royal traditions, the prince’s staggering blue eyes. It would have been a good life, too. A perfectly fine marriage.

But Astra didn’t want to be queen, and now she wouldn’t have to be, and the freedom she felt watching Andrew bear the weight of that crown was all the reminder she needed: she made the right decision. And now, despite the dull ache of longing in her chest for he boy she’d loved and left behind, she was happy. Truly happy. She was at peace with her past, content in her present, and excited for her future.

When the coronation coverage ended, Astra got ready to return to bed. She was surprised when her phone rang, but she knew exactly who it would be.

“Mom?” she said, before the person on the other line could say a word. Her little cousins would have had just enough time to be tucked back into bed by now, if Aunt May was helping. Kenna would have rushed to the phone as soon as she got the chance.

“Sweetie? How are you, little bug?”

“I’m fine, Mom, I don’t need the pet names.” Astra grinned, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Kenna double-checked.

“Yeah. I wish Andrew wasn’t alone up there. I still love him, I don’t want him to suffer. But I was nothing but relieved when they put that crown on his head and I didn’t have to put one on mine. I made the right choice.”

“I know you did, honey, but just because you did the right thing doesn’t mean you have to feel perfectly fine about it. Especially not on a night like this.”

“Honestly, Mom… my time in London feels like another life. One I’m nothing but grateful for, but not one I want to relive.”

At first, Astra’s spring with Andrew felt like it had never really happened, or like it had happened to someone else, or like it was all a fever dream: too hot, too heady, a surreal hallucination more than a fairytale fantasy. But now, with some time and space, Astra could see it for what it really was: a romantic affair with someone she could have chosen to marry, but who ultimately was not the right fit for her. On the one hand, Astra and Andrew loved each other, and their marriage would have been fine: they’d known each other forever and they each fully understood the challenges of the royal life they would have been embarking on together.

On the other hand, Astra had known what she wanted out of life since she was a very small girl. It was a hard thing to ask an eighteen year old to walk away from a guaranteed royal wedding for a chance to work very hard to one day, possibly, make her dream come true. If Astra hadn’t grown up in Illéa Palace, she might not have made the same choice. But everything she got out of her life from now on was truly hers, she was the captain of her own fate, and even if she failed and never became a prima ballerina, at least this way she’d have had the chance.

“But Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever tell Gramma Magda that Andrew proposed to me and I turned him down. I think she would disown me.”

[imhisknife]

FANCY DATE (pt. 1/?) JAVIER x READER

AN RDR2 ONESHOT 

-   FANCY DATE (pt. 1/?) (Javier x Fem Reader)

WC: 2,800

SUMMARY: 

You and Javier have a fancy date planned, but unlike him, you haven’t always been the best dresser. He takes you to the Saint Denis tailor to “help” you out. (BASICALLY... SHOPPING WITH YOUR BF JAVIER)

CONTENT:

- fLUFF!!! - but ummm... a bit more hOT AND STEAMY THAN MY OTHER STORIES WILL BE 

NOTE:  some parts of this is lowkey inspired by the AO3 story HorseFeathers... (sorry, but I loved that shit, js)

　··　　　°　　　　　　.　•　　　　.　　　.　　　　　 　　　　.　°　　✸*　.　　　✶　　　　　　　　　°　°° 　　　        "What's wrong with what I'm wearing, huh?" You rested a hand at your hip, while your other hand held a silver pail. You were in the middle of chores when Javier pulled you aside to discuss his weekend plans with you. You were touched that he thought of it all, but you were suspicious about needing ‘fancier attire’.

        "Oh, nothing, nothing—but um..." He tilted his head, talking carefully as if he didn't want to offend. You had a grey shirt on with the sleeves rolled at your forearms. It had a simple design embroidered into it — but that was all it was — simple. You wore a long, silk skirt along with it. It had been a pretty thing... once. It was red, hemmed up to your knees to show a bit of your black leather boots beneath; but now it was faded by the sun, worn by the work, and in some areas there were small tears and rips. 

        "I can get these stitched in no time," You say, following his eyes and feeling a little embarrassed. "There's really no need to—,"

        Before you could object, he was scooping at your waist and pulling you close to him. You dropped your pail and it rolled away on the floor. You were about to complain, when Javier suddenly held your face so you couldn’t look away. His touch was gentle though, just like his tone. "Although you'd look beautiful wearing old rags, mi amor, what man would I be, to not spoil you? Hmm? And you can't say no to me this time,"

        Lost in his brown eyes, you knew you really couldn't say no. Besides, you remembered all the different occasions he had offered to buy you things. To take you places. To dote upon you. You were just so difficult. 

        "Well, Javi...” You still tried to protest, “I do have other dresses, you know—?”

        He spoke over you, as if he didn't hear. "Hmm, you would be so stunning with a new ensemble. So stunning with pearls at your neck. Matching earrings... a shawl over your shoulders. I could you get in a white dress too someday—,"

        "Alright, alright," You say, flushing a deep red. "Let's just get it over with...”

        Javier smiled wide. "Vamanos, mi hermosa,”

*        *        *

        When you and Javier get to Saint Denis, your heart ached for him. You noticed all the staring, heard all the racial slurs being whispered as you and him passed. You glare back at them, grinding your teeth in your mouth. You want to do more, however. You want to turn back and throw up a-not-so subtle gesture but it's almost like Javier could read your mind, sense your distress, because he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight. You felt comforted, and paid a lot less attention to it everyone else. Though it might've worked for a little while... you had just about reached your limit when you two walked into the tailor.

        "Are you lost, sir?" A voice said, colored with disgust.

        You hardly looked at the guy who said it, before you spoke up, loud and curt. "No," You answered, before Javier could. You pulled him close to you. "We're not,"

        The man was old with a bald spot at the top of his head. He looked shocked by your words. He studied the both of you, still doubtful. "Well... a lot of what we have in stock here is quite expensive, are you sure that—?"

        Having dealt with these kinds of things all his life, Javier might have known how to keep his cool. But you didn't. You pulled a revolver from your satchel and held it in front of the man's face.

        "Just close the shop and give us fifteen minutes,"

        When you did it, Javier sighed. He couldn't help but grin a little though, seeing you so stoic and resolute. A part of you wished you were like him in more ways that one... sure, at the end of the day you may come out dressed significantly better but there was no changing your ill-temper and boldness. He knew it himself.

        "Knowing us, mi amor," He chuckled lightly, "I'd say we need a little longer than that," He didn't try to stop you as he passed, instead he was already scanning the place.

        You agreed with a shrug and looked at the cashier. The man had his arms thrown up in the air and was staring at you with wide eyes. You smiled fleetingly. "Just keep quiet until we're done, please?" You looked to his side and saw a door. It must have been a closet. 

        While gesturing with your gun, you told him to get in there. The man nodded more than once, gulping as he obeyed you, twisting open the door and vanishing inside.

        "Alright..." You say, stuffing your gun away. “What’s this expensive stock?”

        Your eyes glossed over the mannequins. Ridiculous hats stood on display and you flicked your fingers at a long feather sewed onto one of them. You rarely ever went shopping much — and never in a fancy place like this. Seeing the options, though, a part of you felt like you weren't missing out too much. 

         “Javier,” You groaned in annoyance. “I don't know about this...” 

        "Ah, be quiet,” He said over his shoulder. “This’ll be fine,”

        You went on for a few minutes struggling to find something you liked. It didn’t take long for Javier, though. 

        He had something in his hand and he was waving you over to him. “C’mere and try this for me,”

        “Me?” 

        “No, the tailor... yes, you!”

        You walk over and look at what he was holding with a grimace. When you made no move to take it, he cocked his head.

        “Do you need me to put it on for you, or—?”

        Half-annoyed by his teasing, you snatched the dress and set it beside you as you began to undress.

        You had to crane your neck to the floor every time you undid the ties of your corset. But once it was off and your blouse dropped loosely at your shoulders, you felt yourself being pulled away. Without warning, your back was against the wall and Javier had his arms at your sides, keeping you there.

        “Or...” He said, smiling at the sight of you trapped by him. 

         “Do you need me to undress you...?” His voice trailed. And so did his hands. He went from kissing your open mouth, to grazing your bare shoulders.

       “Javier,” You said, stiffening behind his touch. Although you didn’t want him to stop, you couldn’t bring yourself to match his building aggression. “I pulled a gun on the tailor to be in here... I think we should be quick, don’t you?”

        He laughed against your neck. “Oh, I can be quick—,”

        “That’s not what I meant—,”

        “No?” Your blouse fell lower and he started kissing your collarbone. 

        ”Javier!” You hissed.

        ”Ay, I’m just toying with you,” He withdrew, turning on his heels. He was chuckling to himself while you rolled your eyes, flushing with heat. You held the dress close to your chest as you watched him look through the store, whistling.

        He threw two more dresses your way and you sighed, taking them into you arms as you went to head into the changing room. 

        "Why don't you just change in here?" You heard him say. 

        "It would be too much excitement for you, it seems,"

         He made a tsk sound but let you go. 

        You went to the other room. You had no trouble... until you slipped inside the new dress and found that you couldn't tie up the laces at your back on your own. With pursed lips you shuffled out to get his help. He smirked devilishly when you did. And boy, did he take his time with it. He was humming, his fingers brushing the bare skin of you back. It sent tingles down your spine, but you tried not to show it. You knew what he was doing. Knew he was stalling. After a few seconds you folded your arms across your chest impatiently. 

        "Having trouble?" You huff, your voice thick was sass. Just as you said it, he took the strings and gave them a tug - one so sudden and forceful it made you yelp.

         "Fun—actually," He corrected, tying a knot and speaking close to your ear.  "Now turn around,"

        You did as he said with a deep scowl. When you turned, Javier had a hand at his chin and his eyes moved over you lazily. 

        "Mi amor,” He drawled after some time of silence. “You’re so sexy when you're angry—,”

        "Oh, save it. Is it good enough or what?"

        "Sure, it’s beautiful... but all I want to do is take the dress right off you again—,"

        Before he could touch you, you stormed back into the changing room to see for yourself. In there, you realized the dress looked a lot better than it did when handed to you. Javier had an eye for this kind of stuff, and you couldn’t deny it. But the longer you looked, you found that you didn't feel comfortable in it. It seemed to much. Too cluttered. It just wasn't you.

        You told him that — and he was more than happy to help you out of the dress and keep looking. Every now and then, though, you’d feel him from behind you, pulling you back against his own body. Sure, he was a lot more helpful you could’ve hoped — but he also had a habit of getting carried away, too. You had to cut him some slack though. It wasn’t every day you two could be alone. You yourself wanted something more than the simple pecks you would give each other at camp, but still you knew that someone had to have an ounce of restraint. You had to remember... your goal was to tease him just like he was teasing you... and this date tomorrow? You wanted it to be special. You couldn’t spoil all the fun now.

        The next time he made a move on you, he had taken you in by the waist and slumped into a chair, bringing you down with him. He had you in his lap, your legs hanging over the arm rest. He kissed you long enough to leave you breathless and when you felt his hands moving over you, you heart was racing wildly. Before he could get too far, however, you stopped them.

        “Javi,” You whispered into him, drawing back.

        “What is it? Am I hurting you?”

         Far from it. But you didn’t tell him that. Instead, you sighed, turning away from a kiss — knowing fully well how that drove him crazy — and tapped your fingers lightly against his chest.

         “Javi, if we were to... you know...”

         “Yes...?” He asked, the slight impatience in his voice making you crack a smile.

         “Well... I...”

         “Yes, Y/N...?"

         “Well, I wouldn’t want to in place where an older man is an earshot away,” You slipped off his lap and stood in front of him, shaking your head like you were talking to a child. "Can you control yourself, please?"

        Javier lolled back into the seat, looking upset, but huffing in agreement. "Fine,"

        Though he finally stopped trying to grab at you, it didn’t lessen that lusty look he had in his eyes whenever you put something new on and went to show him.

         You tried on a few more dresses, skirts and blouses, some you picked, some he picked — but you still felt yourself getting more and more annoyed.

        “You can’t just say you like them all,” You chided Javier, yanking at the skirt of your dress so it laid straight against your legs as you stood before him.

        He looked confused. “But I do,”

        “Oh, please, that last dress had pink ruffles—,” You grimaced incredulously, but he cut you off. 

         “On anyone else I’d say no. But you — you can pull it off," Javier gave a shake of his head. "Y’know... I don't think you're aware of your own beauty, mi amor. You’re always trying to hide it, but there's just too much. And dressing modestly like you usually do... it isn’t gonna stop people from looking... it never stopped me,"

         You start to argue, but stammer and shut your mouth. You found it hard to believe him when he said things like that. You never thought of yourself as beautiful, let alone all that attractive. You knew, however, that if Javier caught you doubting his compliments or being critical of yourself and your looks, he’d go on an even longer rant of flattery and praise, with sadistic threats in between. Then he'd end it off with saying he ‘was only trying to make you love yourself just as much as he loved you’. Your heart fluttered and not wanting him to have to go off again — you sighed.

         “Alright, fine... but eventually you’ll have to make up your mind up and help me pick just one. I—I don’t want to go back to camp with 10 pounds of clothes.”

         “Fair enough,” He said. “But you be honest with yourself, alright? You’re saying no to these dresses because it’s not what you’re used to. But if you know you like it, then hermosa... it’s all yours,”

         A few more minutes passed until you had finally pulled into something that made you stop and stare at your reflection. It might’ve been the one... but a part of you was still unsure. 

         When you came out, Javier was sitting down at the table, rocking back in the chair. Once he turned to you, he stopped rocking and let the chair fall hard against the floor. 

         “That’s it. That’s the one,” He said, pointing at you. 

         “Oh, c’mon," You started to blush. "You’re just saying that because you want to get out of here...”

         He snorted. “You’re kidding, right? You’re over here strutting around half-naked and you think I want this to be over with?” He stood up and dragged you over to the mirror again. 

        "Look. You know it, too. I see it in your eyes. You like this one... admit it,” He was beside you, brushing his fingers through your hair as you looked at yourself again. You started to smile with him.

        “Aha! Eres una preciosa mujer, lo sabes también,”

        You tried to force the smile down as he planted kisses all over it. “But vanity is a sin, Mr. Escuella—!” (You knew bringing that up always drove him crazy too).

        “Oh, shut up. Killing's a sin too, but it’s just part of our lives, ain’t it?”

         He gave you another kiss. Then you went out picking the smaller things, shoes and accessories, to complete your new ensemble. When you were done — you found that Javier was still browsing as well. 

        “Wait—why are you looking for more clothes?”

        He almost looked offended. “We have to match,” He said to you, before continued. Soon Javier had found a black suit, with a tie and vest that went beautifully with the colors of your own outfit

        And finally; the two of you were done. A part of you was against the idea of bothering to wake up the tailor at the front of the store, but the better of you had you doing it anyways. You knocked on the door with your revolver and let the man out. You had found him in the fetal position and you almost felt bad. 

        “Sorry,” You tell him, "but we’re ready to pay now,”

        The man looked baffled, walking back to the register as you smiled sweetly.

        Javier pulled a wad of cash out of his vest pocket and slapped it onto the counter. You weren’t sure of how much it was, but you did know it was enough to get the owner drooling and Javier grinning as smug as a peacock. 

        He hit the guy's shoulder. Although it was nothing more than a teasing hit, the man looked like he had jumped out of his skin. Javier smirked even bigger. “Why don't you keep the change?"

        You kept your gun on the man as he collected the money. "Oh, and... this never happened, understood? You never saw us,"

        The man only nodded.

        Then Javier hooked you by the arm and hauled you out of there. His smile grew bigger as you both hit the streets. 

        “Look at that... they’re already staring,” He whispered close to your ear.

        “I know. Thanks a lot — it’s all ‘cause of your skin color,” You said sarcastically.

        He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and snatched up your hand. Your fingers interwove with his and he planted a kiss on them.

        “Te amo, mi amor, even though you are difficult,” 

        “I know I am,” You smirked. “Por eso te amo, Javier..."

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄ 

  AN: if my Spanish is wRONG, I AM SO SORRY & please correct me.  but anyways, thanks for reading! Please let me know if I should write about the date ;)

​​​​​​​ ⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

ig / wattpad: @imhisknife 

[bots-basket]

Snapshot: make a little doodle or drabble one of your favorite scenes!

{ Yeah So My Brain Miraculously Decided To have motivation and Did a Full blown Story with Pictures So Here Ya Go!

*Note: Some of the pics used are screenshot redraws. }

🌀Vortex 🌀

Terrible. Absolutely Terrible. How could things Go So Bad?

The Tobot Crew had Awoken To a start. The Princess had Gone Missing! Onyx was the first to realize she was Missing when she didn't come out for breakfast that Morning. At First The Eldest Kept it to himself as he searched around the Junkyard, Hoping he'd Just find her Hiding or sleeping in a Random Place again. Whenever he didn't have to Worry his little Brothers the better. But After a while of Searching he Began to get concerned.. and So Did His siblings.

It was obvious that this was going to be an unavoidable Conversation, So He told Rox and Zephyr the News. Zephyr was the first to Panic.

" WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PRINCESS D: "

Zephyr Exclaimed as he Flared his Arms around in worry. How Could she be Missing?! She was Just here Last Night.. Why would she Leave? Now she's Lost in the city with who knows what lurking around the next Bend.

Rox was also Wildly Concerned for the Princess, But Handled it a bit better for Zephyr's Sake. Though he Put on a Brave Face he couldn't Hide the worry in His Tone as he Looked to Onyx.

" If we Hurry, we Might be able to find her- Right? I'll Do a Sweep of the entire City If I Have too.. W.. We'll definitely Find her.. No Matter what.. Right..?"

Onyx Looked to Rox and Zephyr and saw the complete Desperation in their Optics.. Glinting threw their Masks and Visors. He didn't Know where The princess could be or What has become of her.. But he Isn't going to Let Those negative Thoughts get to him. He has to be Strong.. for the Princess- And For his Brothers. He Gave a Swift Nod to Rox and Zephyr before responding and taking Charge of the Matter.~

" We Are going to find her, But we'll Need to broaden our Search by splitting up. Rox, You Go North towards the City Shops And Keep an eye in the sky. Remember, She likes to Avoid Contact with others so keep close attention on the Side-streets. Zephyr, You Head South towards The Villages and see if she's at any of her usual Alone-time Spots. I'll Head towards the Woodland Area where she Goes to find lost things. And keep Your Comm units up."

The Two Smaller Bots Nodded before Transforming into their Alts and Zooming off to Go Look for the Princess. Before he Left he Glanced Around the Junkyard.. Something Was giving him a Bad Vibe that something was going to happen As soon as he Left this place.. He wasn't sure about why he was feeling this way, But He wasn't going to take it lightly.

/// *I'll Just Have to Keep my Guard Up..*\\\

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It Had Been Over 2 Hours since the Squad had been Searching For Their Little Lost Princess.. And there was No Luck Or Clue to her whereabouts At All. Rox had Circled the City Twice Now .. He Hated to Admit it, But He was starting to Get as Worried as Zephyr was about Their Pilot. What Kind of Hero Could he be if he can't even protect the ones he Loves?

He was about to Double-back Once More when Something Caught the Edge Of His Optic. He Transformed Midair and Zoomed down to A Nearby Rooftop to get a Better Look at What he Saw. As he Peaked over the edge of The building, The Thing he saw was unmistakable.. He was going to need Backup. He Shakily Reached for His Comm Unit before speaking In A broken Tone.

[* I.. Found Her.. *]

[* What? Where!?* ]

[* Roxas Where's the Princess?*]

[*- Is Struggling to Answer-*]

[* ROXAS!*]

[* It's Tobais.. He's.. He's Got Her..*]

Onyx Felt as If an Arrow Pierced threw His Armor and into his Core as He Heard the Name That They All Dreaded come out of Rox's trembling Voice. No.. NO- Not Him.. Anyone But Him-! This has turned into the absolute Worse case Scenario. Whatever that Bad Man is planning he Must Be Stopped at Once! Their Princesses Life may depend on them-!

Zephyr Was Shaking too as he heard Tobais Ring out throughout his Mindcore. The Last encounter with Him Lead to The Poisoning Of the Princess.. they were forced to Do Terrible things just to get the Antidote. That man Was a Psychopath- who Knows What He'll Do To Their Princess now that she's in his Clutches. Even though he was scared of Tobais.. He Has To Be Brave! They Have to Save Her!

[* Rox, Where Are You Now? *]

[* I'm Down Norsh Street, Near the New Coin Factory. I Can see Some Of Tobais Badnicks Guarding the Place.. What Do I Do? *]

[* Staying Hidden will be the best move for Now Roxie, We'll come to you. We are Stronger together plus Have each other's backs Incase Tobais Might try to Capture you too. *]

[* Understood, I'll Keep You Posted if anything Happens.*]

Rox Hated All Of this. Tobais Never Fails to Get Under his Metal Plating. Why Must He Have his Wicked Heart Set On Torturing his Family! He's Crushed Rox's Dreams Of Being a Heroes To this City.. He Made them Become Criminals... all At The Princesses Expense. But This is it. He's going to Make Tobais Pay for everything He's Put him and his Family through.. There is No Redemption for this Villan.. He Must Be Vanquished.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn't Take Long For the Other two the Show Up and meet Rox on the rooftops. Having Scoping out the Area and Situation, The small Squad of Robots Came Up with a Plan. Now all they had to Do was Take Action. Onyx Glanced to his siblings before Whispering

" You ready to Storm the Villan's Castle?"

" Absolutely."

Zephyr Nodded as he made his Servos into a Fist. There's no way he's getting away with this.

" Then Let's Do This!"

Rox Shouted before Flipping off the Roof. The Mecha Guards Looked Up in surprise as The Orange Mech Came from outta Nowhere and Falcon Punched one of them Into The Factories Walls.

The Other Guards Quickly Armmed themselves with their Pistols and began Firing Blasts at Rox. In an Instance a Blue Energy Shield protected him from Taking any Damage. Behind the Shield stood Little Zephyr in a Protective Manner, Making Sure Rox Was Safe.

" I Am a Knight of Valor and Won't Let you do as you Please!"

Rox Smiled To Zephyr Before reaching for his second set of Wings And Unhitching them from his Back, Revealing that they were actually Duel Blades. He Gave a Swift Leap into the Air and Hovered above The Guard Robots. Placing his Blades together he dragged them against each other as an Electrical Pulse Began to Surge from his Body and into the Blades. With a Glint in his Optics Shinung through his Visor he Let Out his Catchphrase.

" To Save the Innocent From This Evildoer's Clutches, I Am a Hero! "

He Sent A Slash Of electricity Down Upon Most of the Guards, Leaving only a Few left Standing. The Last Of them Who Managed to Miss the Charge Of Rox's Ability Sent Guided Missiles at the Flying Mech, Attempting to Put him Out of they sky For Good.

The Eldest Sibling However wasn't going to let him be taken Down So Easily. With the whirl of his Cape He Skillfully Cloud stepped and Got infront of Rox within a Few movements. Raising his servo he managed to create a Magnetic Field to Divert the Course Of the Missiles and sent them Spiraling Down on his Opponents.

" Your End Is Near- For I Am Their Guardian, So Accept Your Fate."

Zephyr Stood his Ground as the Blasts from the Missiles Blowing Up the Remains of the Guards nearly sent him perpeling backwards. Before the Dust could even Settle The Three Hurried Inside The Factory Opening, Hoping that They could see some sort of Clue to where Tobais was keeping their Princess.

Bad Move.

As Soon as they Entered The Factory Bright Spotlights Blazed in their Optics Causing A Temporary Blindness in their visual Sensors. In an Instance Rox Felt Something Grab Onto his Wrist and Twist it Violently Behind his Back, Causing him To drop his Swords and let Out a Screech in Pain by the sudden forced Movement.

" AAAARRRGGHH!!"

Onyx's Sensors Flicked Slightly as he whipped around Towards the direction of Rox's Screams. He Darted Towards the source while Unsheathing His Arm Blades. He Slashed In the direction Of the last known Sound, Hitting something.. Metallic. He Heard Rox give a Subtle Gasp as he felt the grip of his Attacker leave his Wrists for a Moment. The Purple Mechs Sensors Flicked Once more as he Glanced around Blindly. Suddenly he Felt something Grab his Leg- Slamming him into the ground and then Into Rox in a Brutal Manner.

" ACK- *SLAM* UGH-!"

" UCK-"

" ROXIE! ONYX- WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Zephyr's Headfins Flapped Wildly as Anxiety began to Creep into his Mindcore as he Frantically Tried to Figure out what was happening. And Fact that he couldn't see anything didn't Really help his Demeanor either. All He could Do was the cries of Pain Of his Big Brothers as something was Attacking them.

Then The Sound of Metal crashing to the ground stopped abruptly- Causing him to Literally freeze in Panic. He Felt a cold Shivver Creep up his Spine as Something loomed Over him. At that very Moment His Optical Functioning restarted... But it was too Late. A Metal Hand Slammed It's fist ontop the Little Bot, Knocking him Out Cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a Few Moments The Squad Came too, And Found themselves in a Very dreadful Situation. They were Hanging from The Ceiling in a Steel-Inforced Net, All Of their Weapons and Gear was confiscated, And Worst of All- There Stood Ontop a Mighty Mech was Tobais, Wearing a Wicked Smirk as he Held Held up Their Beloved Princess.. With a Look of True Terror in Her Tear filled Eyes.

" YOU COWARD! USING YOUR UNDERHANDED TRICKS TO CAPTURE US! IF YOU DON'T LET GO OF THE PRINCESS RIGHT NOW SO HELP ME-"

Rox Snarled as he Grabbed onto the Metal Netting, Attempting to Break Threw It. HOW DARE HE TREAT THE PRINCESS THAT WAY!! Showing her off Like Some Trophy he'd won. If he has hurt her in anyway he was going to Cause some Serious Damage to this Dude.

" wHy Are You Doing this To Us-! Release the Princess!.. Please..She's Done Nothing To You- "

Zephyr Was Trembling as he Spoke. The Sight Of His Princess So Afraid Made him Scared aswell.. He knows What this Man was capable Of.. And the Fact that He Not Only has Her.. But he Single Handedly managed to Capture All three of them aswell Made him Even More Afraid. The edges of His Optics Began to Spike to mimic that Of Crying.. He wished he could Just wake up from this Nightmare.

" What Do You Want Tobais! We'll Do whatever You Say, You have Us! Just Don't Hurt Her! She's Just a Child! She doesn't have a use for Your Plans!"

Onyx Called Out in hopes Of Negotiating with Him. He would give himself Up If it meant protecting Her.. They Owe her their Lives, He can't just let her Loose hers.

But Tobais, on the other hand, Could Honestly Care Less. He Only Laughed at their pleas Before Throwing their Princess Off the Mech and watched as she crashed to the ground. She groaned in pain As she weakly looked up to her Protectors Dangling helplessly in the air calling out to her.

" PRINCESS!!"

The Prof. gave a Small Humm as he Turned his Attention to the Trio Aggressively trying to Get To their Pilot, Only to Continuously Fail. It was Quite Amusing To say the least.

" Your Right You Know.. I Don't need Her.. But I Don't need You anymore either. I have Proven that A Human Mind and Intellect Is Stronger than your Dumb Little Mindcores with this Mech."

~ He Smiled as He Slid into the Cockpit of the Mecha And Stood Proudly Behind their Fallen Pilot. ~

" Now I'll Be Able to Achieve my Greatest Ambitions with This Mech suit. Best Of all I won't have to Worry about you Ruining my Schemes. I'm Sure You're gonna make Great Spare Parts once I Dismantle you. I'm sorry To Say but.. You've Outlived Your Usefulness.. Just Like this Child."

~ He Moved The Large Mech Towards the Girl, It's Large Metal Feet shaking the factory with each Step.. She Couldn't get away.. she couldn't even see it coming.. Her Fate was set as the Giant Mech Lifted it's Pede Above their Pilot.~

" So Long little Princess."

"No..-"

" NO..-!"

" NOOO!"

She Saw the Metal Foot Coming Down Upon Her.. She Heard the Horror striken Cries of her Tobots.. she couldn't see a way Out.. She Closed her eyes and Let out One Last Shriek as the tears began to Flow down her Face..

" AAAAAAAAA-"

...

...

...

...

*Woosh!*

In that Instance, A Few Moments before disaster Something happened. Tobais Felt The Mech be sent Backwards as Something with Great force Rammed into it. When he went to See what the heck Just Hit him, He Couldn't believe his eyes. There, Towering Over the Small Child he was Going to crush... Was a Panther Of some sort.. No.. It wasn't a Panther.. It was a Tobot! But that can't be possible.. He'd never seen any Tobot that looked like him before- Where'd she get ANOTHER ONE-!?

" WHO ARE YOU!?"

" I Am Bass, Her Solider Of Destruction. All who Dare Hurt her Shall Succumb To My Claws..

So. Stay. away. From. My. MASTER."

Bass Snarled As the edges Of His Servos Dug into the Ground. He Didn't know who this was, Or How he even Managed to Capture her Guards and get his Grubby Little Hands on his Master.. But he's Going to make him Regret the day he even Laid eyes on Her. Bass hated to Admit it, But He's Grown rather Found Of his Master.

Ever Since she Helped Him Escape From his Creators.. From his predetermined Fate.. He Decided that Rosie and Rosie Alone Shall be His Master. But the time has come for Him To Step Up and Make it Known That She is His.

Tobias Was Appalled to be threatened by a Raggedy Looking Robot! Doesn't he Know who he Is! He'll teach this Dumb Cat Some Manners!

The Mech Regained itself before Sending a servo Towards the two, Aggressively Grabbing at them. In an Instant Bass Grabbed onto The scruff Of Rosie's Hoodie and Leapt Backwards, Avoiding being Caught By Tobais's Grasp. As The Mecha Grabbed and Swung at Them, The Feline-Estique Tobot Manged to Dodge every Swing Skillfully- Jumping into the Air with each Swing. As He was In Midair The Mech's Other Servo Grabbed his Leg and threw him into the ground with a Forceful *CRASH!*

Bass uses his Body to Sheild Rosie From Receiving any Damage from the Collision with the Floor. He Let Out a Hiss Of Pain as he Landed infront the Trapped Trio Struggling to get free. He Glanced at Them and then to Tobias Closing in on them. He Got to his Pedes and Set The Child Down Before Stepping ahead of her to Face the Man in the Mech.

"This Ends Now. "

He Let out a Thunderous Roar Before Slamming his Servos onto the Floor- Letting his Claws Dig deep to give himself Stability for The Stunt he was About to Pull. His Back Arched and Snarled. His Tail Began To Sperate into Sections as a Dark Purple Substance Swirled Out of It..

Tobais Couldn't believe what he saw! This Tobot.. Had Created A VORTEX!? How Could Something Like this even be possible!? He didn't Have time To Process what Was Happening as a Bright Purple Glow Engulfed the Room..

"ARRRGGGGGHH!!!!"

.....

.....

....

~Elsewhere~

....

...

...

A Large Purple Vortex Opened In the middle Of a Clearing beside a Lake- Throwing Bass, The Trio, And The Princess Safely- But roughly- Onto the Grass. The group Gave a Slight Groan as they Slowly Regained themselves. Bass Looked Over Rosie to Make sure she didn't hurt herself from the fall. Rox was the first Person to break The Silence

" I'm Sorry But What The Heck Just Happened-?!"

"..I.. I'm Unsure.."

Onyx Rubbed the Side Of his helm as he Glanced around the Area.. He didn't recognize this place at all.. Were they even still in the city? His attention shifted to the Mech Checking over their Princess.. He remember he had Appeared Suddenly and Saved her.. But just Who was he exactly..? He Flinched Slightly as the other looked back to him.

" I Created a Vortex To send us somewhere Safe."

Bass Spoke Up as he Finished Looking over His Master. She Only seemed to Have Sprained her wrist, Other than that She was just a little shaken up. That was a Relief. He Gave the Girl Her Glasses and Stood Upwards while Brushing himself off.

" Ah, Yes..Who the Heck are You! "

Rox Pointed his Digit At Bass As The Mech Stood Up. It's not that he isn't grateful or anything on how he kept the Princess Safe.. But How does a Random Guy Come outta Nowhere, Just Totally CLAIM the Princess, Face-off with Tobias, and Then Just Poof! Sent them to who knows where just like that!?

" I literally Just Declared my Name Five minutes Ago. But I suppose you couldn't hear me over your Failure to Protect The Kid."

Bass responded Coldly as his Tail Lashed From side to Side. He definitely wasn't impressed with His masters So Called 'Guardians.'

" WHAT!!"

Rox's Wings Flapped as He let out a Low Churr in irritation. Just Who does this Guy Think He Is!

" You Heard me. I'm surprised she's managed to survive this long Under Your Care."

The Mech Scoffed.

" Why You-"

He Growled as He Went to Punch The Smug Cat

" Roxie.."

Zephyr Placed his Servo on Rox's Shoulder and Looked at him with One of those Looks. Just Let it Go.. He Helped the Princess and That's all that matters.

" HMMPH!"

The Orange Mech looked to Zephyr and then to Bass and Huffed. Fine! Whatever! Let the jerk be a Jerk. At least he seems like the Loner type to Ridicule You Before Leaving in a Pretty Stupidly awesome Manner.

" Thank You For Your Assistance.. We Owe You Our Lives. "

Onyx Smiled Warmly to the other and offered his Servo to him. But that Motion didn't seem to fair well with the feline as he Avoided it like the plague. Onyx Lowered His Servo and Frowned Slightly.. Did he just Offend Him..? He Glanced to Zephyr and Just Shrugged.

" Let's Start Over.. I'm Zephyr! And these are My Older Brothers Rox and Onyx.. And You Are..?"

Zephyr Caught Onto Onyx's Motion and Quickly tried to Apologise while Also get on his good Side. He must Obviously be a Good Person To Come and Help them in A Time of Need, Right?

" *Tch* My Name is Bass, And from Now On I shall be the True Protector of Your 'Princess'. "

He Stated as he wrapped his Long Tail Around Rosie in an Defensive Manner while Glaring at the Trio. There was No Way he was Just going to let them Be her Caretakers. From Now On He's Going to Be Her Protector.. and there's Nothing they can Do About it.

" W H A T - "

All three Siblings Gasped in Unison-

Well that Was Unexpected. Looks like their Lives are About to get A Bit More Interesting~

~ End..? ~

[cult-of-artemis-and-athena]

"The Pink Tax" is peak bourgeois moaning

I went to the store to pick up a number of things, shaving razors being one. While in principle, I like the idea of not giving a fuck and letting the hair grow free, I'm sort of stuck in the early-00s alternative culture's aversion to body hair on anyone. On men, I like the clean-shaven, smooth-bodied "elven" look.

I'm not uncouth enough to tolerate the single-blade cheap-o razors that come in a bag. I have PTSD from having one of those shared by my family and making it last for way longer than it should have, beyond the point it was rusty. We weren't even poor, and my parents were neither frugal nor crunchy, just disgusting for some reason, and I'll leave it at that.

So, I just look at all the razors - men's and women's - and buy whatever seems like the best value for a single-use 4-6 blade razor. In my own experience, because I've tried to look for this, the prices are the same when comparing the product's features -- same brand, same number of blades, equivalent lube strip thing, etc. However, I notice there is a larger variety of men's razors, possibly because they're pickier about razors because they shave their faces with them. There are, on the other hand, fewer types of women's razors: the Venus, the Hydro Silk (basically an inferior version of the Venus), and the Intuition which had that weird soap thing around it that made it cost $15, meanwhile the actual razor wasn't that good and the whole thing was too bulky for shaving pubes and you likely ended up buying a Venus anyway. Between a larger selection of men's razors and the fact women's razors have a weird churn of gimmicks that add to the price, I could see the average price of women's razors being higher for the mere fact there is a smaller sample size and more price outliers.

I find it a bit ridiculous - hilarious, not offensive - the degree to which razors, an item used by both sexes, are gendered. You know this razor is for men because it's green, navy blue, and orange, and the commercial has a fighter jet and an industrial-chic grey room that looks like something from The Cube. You know this razor is for women because it's pink, purple, and/or white and the commercial takes place in some tropical utopia with flowers, butterflies, and the women bathe in pristine waterfalls.

And by the way, Gillette's woke-signaling ad campaign revolving around "toxic masculinity" is also cringe. You are a razor company, just shut the fuck up and sell the razors.

It should just be like "How many fucking blades to you want? Do you want lube or no lube? Do you want it to pivot on the x or the x and y? What fucking color do you want? Here's your fucking razor, don't knick your ass hole, you piece of shit."

What about the other products?

https://www.buzzfeed.com/abagg/the-video-shows-just-how-much-more-it-costs-to-be-a-woman-th

I watched the full video but don't find it a good use of my time to watch it again, so I'll just reference the gifs.

The first one says women's deodorant costs $6 and the men's costs about $3.50. Which deodorant are we comparing? We can't claim sexism because one person bought the natural, organic deodorant with essential oils and kaolin clay, and the other one bought Speed Stik from the Family Dollar.

On Target's website, I found Degree Clinical protection, which has the same features for men and women, and both versions of the product are $7.99. I did find an example of somewhat unequal pricing in similar Gillette/Secret deodorants with "Fresh Xtend" where the women's deodorant cost $1.19 per oz and the men's cost $1.16 per oz. The products are not directly equivalent and there could be a slight difference in the ingredients or type of fragrance.

I found an amusing instance of woke-signaling in my search, in the form of a Secret unscented deodorant that says "OUTLAST Stereotypes", but it's still labeled "for women". Unscented and non-gendered deodorant has been around for a long time.

The next item is a moisturizer that is $10 for women versus $9 for men. I'm surprised they didn't go bonkers for this and compare some $100 boutique face cream to $0 for nothing at all. There is so much variation in this type of product that it's near impossible to make an apples-to-apples comparison. However, non-gendered moisturizer like CeraVe has been around forever and it's $10.

Next is $115 perfume vs. $90 cologne. That is, again, a product with a lot of variation because different scents use different oils, which vary wildly. How many oz is the product, is it a parfum (more concentrated) or an EDT (less concentrated)? Also, it's a subjective and sentimental item, where someone might pick a more expensive product over a less expensive one because they prefer it.

The elephant in the room is that perfume/cologne isn't a necessary item, and there are less expensive scents that still smell pretty good. A $30 scent isn't exactly the same as buying those awful "body sprays" from Wal-Mart endcaps. You also have the option to not wear additional scents.

In the next gif, the man wears nothing and the woman is applying about 10 products. All I'm saying is if you're applying $68 bronzer with a $55 brush, that is 200,000% a choice and you don't get to complain.

Woe is me! I'm so oppressed! The patriarchy is forcing me to go to Sephora! Help me they're putting a bunch of makeup in my basket and swiping my card!

I have by no means reviewed every single product so there very well may be some products that are marked up to some extent when they're for women. If you find that, why not vote with your money and either buy the men's product, or buy a different product. Buy a non-gendered product. Stop existing in a prison of your own mind lmao.

It's fine to use higher-cost products, use makeup and buy it from Sephora. If you want to use the $100 face cream, $120 perfume, or $6 organic deodorant, that's a totally valid choice. However, recognize that these are choices, pressure to conform is a social construct, and the fact you have these choices and you're surrounded by a social class that has normalized them is a privilege in itself.