#it's literally the beginning of everything while being the essence of nothing

[ukusreticence]

im nearing throwing away the concept of effort and drawing blobs

i am about to turn every single dang doodle i've ever doodled into blobs and call it a day because my mind decided it cannot draw anything but blobs right now.

[hanyjar]

rain sucks. (i'll make you love it.)

isagi yoichi x reader

summary: your story with isagi yoichi, told through five moments, a bus stop, and rain.

notes: [6.25k words.] idk if isagi lovers still exist, but in the wise words of taylor swift: this is me trying ;)

disclaimers: cursing, reader hates the rain and likes to talk, break up with an ex (not isagi) in part one, loneliness in 'one' and four', self doubt in 'five' but isagi is quick to comfort, fluff -> angst -> fluff, rain kisses, romantic gestures, strangers -> friends -> lovers.

edit: isagi likes rain here (as opposed to the info given in the light novel T_T so very sorry ahh)

masterlist.

ONE.

It has been a bad day.

No. That’s putting it too lightly. Today, June 20th, is the very epitome of shit.

The heated argument you had with your now ex-partner continues to linger in your mind. “I think we’ve been wasting our time” plays on loop like a broken record, and you wonder if you look as lifeless as you feel.

It’s quite a silly thing: how a single person can make you feel as if the whole world is ending. It’s even sillier how you devoted all this effort into a relationship that is nothing but a waste of time to them.

Waste of time.

Even after they crushed your already tattered heart and left it for dead, you can’t help but think how much easier it would be if you feel that way about them too.

Love is a stupid, stupid thing.

You appreciate mother nature for taking pity on you, at least. Rain in the midst of summer has never been your favourite thing - the air always being a little too hard to breathe and the dreary sky a tell-tale sign that the bus is going to be late that day. But today, you feel okay towards rain. The tears from the heavens above do well to cover up your own; the droplets become friends, accompanying you in your forlorn state. For once, you don’t complain about the broken roof at the bus stop letting rain in. For once, you find comfort in the very thing you hate.

And you cry a little bit inside, knowing that your ex has managed to break that part of you as well. 

“...Bad day?” A voice breaks you free from your stupor.

You turn to your left, and you feel your breath being taken away. 

There, a stranger stands. From first glance, the boy is nothing but ordinary. His navy - almost black - hair did little to set him apart from the rest of the crowd, and he dons the same Ichinan uniform that you (and the multitude of students in the area) wear. But there is something within his cerulean eyes. A fervour of sorts, one that is begging to be unleashed for the whole world to see. To the untrained eye, he is the very essence of average; to a trained eye, the stranger is utterly beautiful.

…Or, that’s what you would say, if he didn’t look like a wet cat. Not the ones featured in those animal shampoo commercials, but one of the sad, pathetically cute, on the verge of tears, literally sopping wet ones. Your breath is taken away, simply because the boy is a mess.

You can’t help but think that this stranger has had a shit day, too.

“Like you have no idea.” You say, voice drenched in exasperation. “Though… You look like you’ve been through a nightmare yourself.”

“A nightmare is an understatement,” he cradles his left temple with his palm. You laugh at his antics.

“Try me, then. Nothing can be worse than getting dumped, right?”

The smile on his face immediately falls, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for dropping a bomb like that to a stranger. “My god.” He exhales, “I am so sorry.” His crestfallen expression makes you feel as if he truly means those words.

“Don’t be. You didn’t know.” Your eyes look down to the soiled concrete. “I’ll be fine, time will pass, after all.” (You say that more to yourself than him, if anything.)

The bus stop is silent for a while, and you feel as if you’ve ruined everything - for the second time today. It’s almost as if the bus stop boy knows, and is eager to change that.

“Well. My name is Isagi Yoichi,” he begins. “And my soccer coach told me that I am mediocre at best; that I don’t have what it takes to do what I love professionally.”

You look into his eyes once more, and the fervour that was once there is now shrouded in a sense of agony you know all too well. The same agony that is, without a doubt, present in your eyes too. Words fail you. And for the years you have shrugged as the therapist friend, you find yourself at a genuine loss.

“...I guess we’re in the same boat then.” You muster out, lamely. “But are you seriously going to let some old geezer tell you what to do with your life? I mean, he’s literally the coach of a no-name highschool team.” Your hands make their way onto Isagi’s, clasping his in-between yours. “Your coach has no right to tell you that when he’s failed at that dream already. Don’t let your coach dictate your worth; don’t let him stop you from shining. Ever.”  

He stares at your hands for a second, eyes widened and mouth agape. You are quick to detach yourself from him. “Forgive me,” a sheepish smile grows on your face.” “I speak too much sometimes.”

“No need,” Isagi’s hand moves to rest on the nape of his neck. “Thank you. I needed to hear that today, I think.”

Isagi smiles boyishly. It suits him.

“It’s no problem.” You fiddle with the straps of your backpack, suddenly feeling bashful at his gratitude. “Adults like that? They think they rule the world, but in reality—”

The squeaking of tires interrupts you, and the bus arrives exactly eleven minutes late.

“That’s my cue,” you say, and for a second, you could swear that Isagi seems disappointed. You make your way towards the bus, head turning towards his way before you get on board. “Thanks for the chat, stranger. I’ll see you around.”

You make your way through the barren bus, the driver eyeing you up-and-down for your soaked figure. And just like that, uncertainty and dejection return in waves. Talking to Isagi was a good distraction and all, but you can’t forget that your partner of two years just fucking broke up with you. You are alone now.

You want nothing more than to sleep it all off. This feeling of loneliness is a type that you would not wish on anyone - even your worst enemy. (Well, maybe someone. Your ex, being the said someone. But you like to think that is just the anger talking.)

“Hey!” Isagi’s voice echoes out. Like a ray of sunlight breaking through the grey skies of your mind, it is his turn to make your eyes widen; his voice bypassing the sheet of glass separating you two and reaching the storm that surrounds your heart. “Don’t let that past relationship stop you from shining too, okay?”

…Perhaps, you aren’t so alone after all.

The bus sets off, and Isagi sees you smile at him through the rain-stricken window. The boy hopes that his sentiments have reached you; he hopes that you’ll follow the same advice that you’ve given him. 

But above all else, he hopes that he will see you again.

TWO.

“I hate this bus stop and its stupid roof.”

Isagi stops typing away on his phone. “You say that like, all the time nowadays.”

You’ve definitely sucked the life out of that phrase recently, but you take it as a good sign. An indication that you’ve healed.

The relationship that you once held dear is nothing but a mere memory of the past. The countless sleepless nights and time spent wallowing in your own self-doubt have all but ceased to exist. You realised that it simply was not worth your while to cry about a lost love, and to instead surround yourself with the love that remains from those around you. If anything, you are grateful for it: you have grown from that experience tremendously. By no means would you ever consider it to be a waste of time. And in the process?

You garnered a friend. A confidant. That break up led to the beginning of something magical. It led to a friendship with Isagi Yoichi, or, who you like to call, your bus-stop boy. 

After the fateful day, you started to notice his presence around more. At first it was in the halls of Ichinan, a mere wave shared between you two here and there. Then the new school year began, and Isagi was shuffled into your homeroom. You began seeing him from once in a while, to literally everyday.

His presence began to bleed more and more into yours, and your lives ended up intertwining together until there was nothing you could do to untangle them. Eventually? Isagi was your deskmate. He was cooking lunch for you, you two eating his homemade lunches together in comfortable silence. You began waiting for his soccer practice to finish, and Isagi would wait by your side at the station until the bus came. A rhythm that you two fell into, almost as easy as breathing.

In your chapter of new beginnings, there is no Isagi Yoichi without you, and there is no you without Isagi Yoichi. An inseparable duo, you two are dubbed as. 

You like to think you know a lot about him now. Maybe even go as far as to say you know everything about him, as he knows everything about you.

“It lets the rain in, Isagi.” You whine. “And besides, why is it even raining in Spring? Tsuyu* season isn’t for like, another month or two. There’s no way anyone could like this weather. No way.”

“I don’t know… I don’t mind it every now and then,” he says. “I like rain. I think it’s nice.”

Pause.

Well, maybe you don’t know everything about him.

“What? Since when?” You put your hand on your heart, gasping in mock-offence. “I didn’t know that I’m friends with a traitor.”

He rolls his eyes at you. The audacity. “A traitor, really? Just because I like a bit of rain here and there?”

“It goes deeper than that, Isagi!” You say. (It really doesn’t. You just want an excuse to complain a little, and a sassy Isagi Yoichi is always a fun sight.) “What’s there to like anyways? I don’t get it.”

“I can try to explain it for you, if you’d like.”

“Please do.”

“Have you ever seen what it looks like after it has rained?” He asks. You shake your head in response. You’ve never been the type to stick around long enough to see the sky stop crying. “You should. It’s wonderful, y’know: the glow it leaves afterwards. The streets look like they’ve been reborn - you can literally see the dirt on the concrete being washed away and given another life. If you’re lucky? A rainbow might come and say hi.” Isagi smiles at the little comment he makes.” That sight alone is worth getting your books wet and missing the bus every now and then. And it is just one of many reasons I have, honestly.”

You find yourself smiling at his enthusiasm. It’s cute, when he’s like this. You’re glad that he’s comfortable enough around you to show this side of himself. “I like it when you infodump, Isagi.”

“Did my infodump manage to change your mind?” A tinge of hope emerges in his voice and eyes. You shake your head. The hope is gone just as fast as it came. “Well, maybe the main reason will.”

He gives you a mysterious smile, and proceeds to say nothing.

“Aren’t you going to finish that sentence?”

“Nope, I don’t think I will.” Isagi says. You shoot him an incredulous look. “I’ll tell you… If you don’t fail your social studies paper.”

“Wha— Hey! Now that’s just being mean!”

He laughs. “So then… Why do you hate rain so much, anyways?”

“Changing the subject, really?” You say.

 He merely shrugs in response, giving you a teasing grin. “Just roll with it. I promise I’ll tell you,” he pauses. “One day.”

You kick his foot in response, making an impromptu game of footsies ensue.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Isagi lifts his hands up to the side of his head, surrendering in a fit of boyish laughter. “No but really, I’m curious. Why do you hate it so much?”

“I don’t really know. It’s just—“ You stick your leg out precariously, as if the rain is going to melt your foot. “I hate the rain. I always have, and probably always will.”

A lull of silence passes by - not dissimilar to the one that happened on your first meeting with him. It’s different this time, though, as it is not a silence that is born out of two strangers not quite knowing what to say. It went deeper than that, more intimate, more comforting. Isagi puts a hand on your shoulder, turning you around to face him. “Well,” he begins. “One day, I hope I can show you how beautiful rain can be.”

Isagi smiles - a pretty, pretty thing.

There, amongst the dreary skies and wet cherry blossom leaves, is sunlight.  Sunlight, in the form of him. Him, the Ichinan forward. Isagi, a boy who has nestled his way into your life almost too easily.

Yoichi, who leaves your heart hammering a bit too fast for comfort.

“Come on, you’re going to miss your bus.” Isagi’s hand finds its way to yours, locking into place like they were made for eachother. “It’s darker than usual. I’ll walk you home today, okay?”

He drags you towards your usual window seat, tapping the two matching keycards you share while entering. Isagi whispers a quick goodnight as he sits on the seat next to yours.

A smile makes its way towards your lips. Warmth filling up your entire body, entire soul. 

You adore his sleeping face; you adore him.

Wait. Adore? Uh oh, you think. I might be falling in love.

*Tsuyu: The rainy period in Japan, generally spanning from May to July. The direct translation is ‘plum rain’, because it coincides with the season that plums ripen in Japan.

THREE.

Isagi is the first one to break the silence.

It’s weird, how he called you out to the bus stop out of the blue. Meeting together here in the past was always out of necessity: one born from a desire to go home and to have a chat with your best friend to end the day on a high note. Never, is the meeting at your sanctuary intentional, like it is now.

You couldn’t help but rush to get here. Not when he texted you like that: frantic and brimming with urgency.

“Sorry for making you come all this way, especially at this time of the night.” He says, carefully. As if he is tiptoeing around eggshells. Like you are strangers again. Isagi is never this careful around you, and hasn’t been for a while now. The change of pace perpetuates fear into the depths of your soul like no other.

“It’s fine.” You tentatively look up from your lap, preferring to look at the night sky instead of his face. I’d do anything for you, when you text me like that. “It’s just… Your message; the tone you’re speaking to me in right now. You’re seriously worrying me, Isagi.”

Isagi lets out a sigh, one quivering with nerves and worry. He places a hand onto your clenched ones, rubbing comforting circles onto the dorsal side. That’s weird. You didn’t even realise you were shaking. “You know that letter from the Japan Football Association I got a few days ago? The one we were so excited about?” 

“The one I forced you to accept, right?”

“That’s the one.” He smiles fondly at the memory. The one of the two of you in his room, him being at an absolute mental blank, while you - the ever-so lovely you - was crying tears of joy - a stark contrast to the tears you shed earlier that day, watching him lose the qualifiers. You egged him to accept it, because ‘nothing would make you happier than to see him pursue his dreams’, you said. Words that sent an elation of joy to flood across his body, for he didn’t think that he could love you more. “…Well, I went to that address they gave us today. And that letter didn’t exactly tell the whole story. Of what it is, what their goal is.” Isagi continues; you feel a lump beginning to form at the back of your throat. “Yes, it’s a player improvement project. But I have to stay at this camp, I think. I don’t know how long I’ll be staying there, and I can’t contact anyone that’s not a part of it either. All I know is that it starts tomorrow. Officially.”

“What…” You muster out, at a complete loss for words.

“It’s called Blue Lock, and I’m going for it.” He places his unoccupied hand onto his chest, eyes igniting with a kindred spirit like no other. “I think this is my best shot at becoming the best. To play beyond a national level, and make you proud. But…” He pauses, pinching your chin with his index finger and thumb, forcing you to look him in the eyes for the first time in this conversation. “I won't go if you don’t want me to. I won’t, and will never do anything that you don’t like. So just say the word, and I’ll stay. Right here, right by your side.”

It hurts so damn bad. All of this, how it is so out of the blue, how there’s a possibility you may never see the boy, who has been such a pivotal aspect of your life for the last year or so, ever again. You want to be supportive - heck, you’d go to war just to see Isagi shine. But it hurts. You love him, for goodness sake. Every bone in your body wants him to stay, to not break the sacred normalcy that you have shared with the man that makes you smile brighter than anyone else can.

But the skies are clear. And the right answer, the solution to all of this, is even clearer.

“You’d have to be stupid to not go.” You say, voice unwavering with confidence. However, your eyes are anything but. “You have to go, Isagi. I don’t want to destroy your dreams like that and ruin the potential you have. I could never live with myself if I made you stay.”

Isagi kisses you on the forehead, once. “Thank you,” Twice. “Thank you, so much.” He leans his forehead against yours, and his teary ones meet your equally watery ones. “I’m going to miss you more than anything. I promise, I’m going to become number one. Just for you.”

“You better.” You chuckle, choking on a sob. “Shine brighter than anyone else, Isagi. I’ll be watching you every step of the way.”

He nods in response, and you stay like that for a while. For minutes, hours, even. Foreheads kissing each other, and staring into his cerulean eyes like it’s the last time you’ll ever see them.

“I never told you the reason, didn’t I?” Isagi breathes out.

“What?”

“The reason why I love rain as much as I do.” He says. You let out a careful no, wondering if he did tell you, and you just weren’t listening.

“It’s because,” Isagi begins, reaching for your right hand and opening it, palm facing up. “It was raining when I met you.” You feel him reach for his back pocket, and Isagi pulls out a pristine white envelope, placing it into your hand. It is sealed with red wax and decorated with golden swirls. Beautiful. Like it came right out of a fairytale. “…And you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Your body quivers, and you feel the tears threatening to return again. “You’re so corny,” you say, half-flustered and half-shy. “And I still hate the rain.” You reach a hand up to his cheek, looking at his lips in a way that just friends don’t. “But Isagi, you. You are the best thing that’s happened to me too.”

He looks at your lips too, and you anticipate for something more - to go beyond what you two have built so beautifully. To go beyond friends, and transform into lovers.

Isagi pulls you in for a tight hug instead. You reciprocate. Those thoughts disappear as fast as they came. 

“So..” You clench the letter tight within your hands, and you cringe at the feeling of droplets meeting your shoulder. (Truth is, you didn’t know if you were cringing at the fact you wished he had kissed you, or if it is the impending sky-fall. You choose to believe the latter.) “Do I open it now?”

He pulls away from the hug first, and smiles, embarrassment painting his features. “I’d prefer it if you read it later.”

The droplets fasten, quicker and quicker, and Isagi pulls you closer to him, putting you out of the rain’s way. “Oh come on! It has to rain now, out of all times?” You heave a great sigh, burying your head into the nape of his neck.

“It gives us an excuse to stay here for a little while longer, doesn’t it?” He gives you puppy dog eyes. 

“As much as I’d love to stay with you all night, it’s getting late,” you say, laughing inwardly. “I don’t want to worry your parents. Actually— have you even told your parents about Blue Lock yet?”

He shakes his head. “No, I wanted you to be the first one to know.”

How sweet. “Then you should hurry home,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t hold you up.”

“You sure?” Isagi holds your hands tighter than before. I don’t want to leave you yet, his eyes scream.

“I’m sure.” You squeeze his hands in response. I don’t want to let you go either, your eyes say.

Isagi leans in once more, bumping your noses together, eyes meeting in a silent agreement. But we have to. And we’ll be okay.

“Promise that you won’t forget me?”

“I could never.”

And so he goes. But you stay. You remain seated, sheltered beneath the shoddy bus-stop. A sense of déjà vu passes, it’s just like all those times before. But it’s almost painful this time. Your bus-stop boy is walking away from you, instead of seeking shelter alongside you. You laugh at yourself, bitterly. You don’t know if you’ll ever move on from him, or if you even want to. Not when your forever-person has pried his way into your heart like this, not when Isagi feels like home.

You pry the wax seal off the letter, unfolding the paper that is encased inside in a hurry, a tinge of excitement coursing through your veins.

‘I still haven’t shown you the beauty of rain.  Will you wait for me? Love, Isagi.’

A laugh escapes your lips. Of course you would. You’d wait forever, and forevermore for him. He didn't even have to ask. It’s something that you would’ve done as one would breathe air. And in a way, you realise that there’s a certain calamity to your circumstance. 

You love him so much that you’d willingly let Isagi tear down everything you’ve ever known. Whether it may be something silly like your animosity towards rain, or the idea of letting someone love you again. You’d let him do it all.

And that is terrifying. But exquisitely so.

A barrage of steps sounds itself out in the quiet of the night, a figure making its way to you - closer, closer, and closer. Oh god, someones not trying to kill me, are they?

Then you see a familiar sight. A boy with his hair in disarray, black outerwear soaking wet, looking just like the wet cat from your first meeting but this time more mature and more determined, and suddenly he’s pulling you into the rain with him, grasping onto your shoulders, locking his eyes onto yours and oh. He’s kissing you on the lips now. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t leave without kissing you first. I think I’d go crazy if I didn't.”

“I think I’d go crazy too,” you chuckle, resting your head against his chest. “And yeah. Of course I’ll wait for you, dummy.”

“You opened it already?”

“I can’t wait to see how you’ll make me love rain.”

…You should’ve known he would’ve given you that kiss first.

Isagi is not the type to leave you disappointed for too long, after all.

FOUR.

The days seem to blur together in Isagi’s absence. 

The last year or so was, for a lack of a better word, lonely. Filled with rumours that you drove your best friend mad and he ran away, or that you murdered Isagi and the police have yet to discover his body, you felt as if the only people in your life for the last few months were your family and Isagi’s parents.

The sudden isolation is getting to you. And you know it. It shows in the dreariness of your demeanour; bears its teeth in the darkening eye bags that have crept their way onto your face. You’re not certain that he will be able to recall your face anymore. Heck, you can’t recognise yourself anymore either. Gosh, who would’ve thought that being Isagi-less for a little while would do this to you?

But today brings something new to the table: hope. Confirmation that all of this waiting has been worth it after all. You’ll get to see him in an hour or two come morning, and it will be enough.

 Or, at least, that's the timeframe you predicted last night. 

“There have been reports of mass delays in the Saitama Public Transport Network due to heavy storms and rainfall. Civilians can expect their regularly scheduled buses and trains to be postponed for up to two hours or more—“

You throw a pancake at your TV and scream.

The what-would-be one hour trip to Tokyo is now possibly three, and since your butter fingers slipped and set the wrong alarm last night, you are already running late. 

You just hope that Isagi’s parents are still waiting for you outside.

Ding!

You reach into your pocket for your phone, and a message from Isagi’s mother illuminates the screen.

‘Sorry, Honey. We left already. Issei is worried that the traffic is going to hold us up from getting to Tokyo in time.’

Great. Just great.

It seems as if the universe is practically begging for you to not see Isagi today. But after not seeing him for months - not even a hi, hello, or a single sign that your Isagi is safe and sound - you only have one thing on your mind. 

Screw the universe. I need to see him. Screw it all.

You chuck on a pair of navy converses, making your way towards the bus stop that started it all. The streets are busier nowadays. With various roadworks and several shops getting renovations left and right. However, the one location that you know like the back of your hand remains abandoned, frozen in time, almost. Still on its last leg, with a leaky roof and ivy adorning the wooden frame.

The seats have grown moss on them from the increase in rainfall nowadays. And so you choose to stand instead - quietly observing the pouring downfall, thoughts running amok.

It’s almost scary, how time has simultaneously been impetuous and sluggish lately. And you know it ties back to Isagi. It always does. You haven’t seen the boy in ages, actually. And that, in itself, is an understatement. It isn’t in the 'two weeks off school’, or the ‘we haven’t talked since summer break’ way, but in an ‘I’m honestly forgetting your face since it is now a new spring without you’ way. 

…You don’t think you’ll have the heart to ever tell him that.

There is one thing that scares you more, though. And that's in the way that you’re forgetting how Isagi looks when he wears his smile. Does his lips curve upwards or downwards? Do his eyes turn into half-moons when he’s happy or does he bear his cerulean eyes for everyone to see? All of these are questions that invade your mind during sleepless midnights. Questions, that you never thought you would ask at all.

You can only hope that his smile is better than you can imagine. That he glows radiantly like he does in the fragments that appear in your memory every once in a while. Will happiness look good on him? Will it feel like a shame that you’ve been missing out on it all this time?

Maybe that’s the real reason why you’re worried that Isagi won't remember you: because you can hardly recall his face yourself. As in, truly, know what he looks like. You know Isagi from the blurry photos on your phone taken at 3AM sleepovers, and the display frames lined around his family’s home. The big picture itself is easy to see. The little things - the quirks of his that made you fall - have been much harder to recall.

But you do remember a few things. Arguably, the most important ones.

Your love for him; Isagi’s promise. The way he kissed you like he needed you to live; the way you cried for him amongst the skyfall.

The way Isagi taught you that it’s okay to love. 

And it’s okay to be loved back.

For now, that is enough.

Droplets continue to batter against your woollen jumper, the rain drenching your entire being. It soaks your hair, makes the knuckles on your clenched fists a light violet, disguises the tears falling down from your face. The rain is ever so violent, leaving a mess of you in its wake. For the second time in your life, you let the rain do as it pleases. You let it destroy the outfit you meticulously planned, wreak havoc on the converses Isagi gave to you on your birthday. All in hopes that it will eventually cleanse your soul. Cleanse the pain, the happiness. Wipe the slate clean, as the rain does with the pavement, until you are reborn from the ashes and live a life where you aren’t so, irrecoverably in love with your best friend.

But you know, deep down, it will never save you from your calamitous love. That even if you are reborn, one word will remain in your heart. One, sacred word that you keep like an oath. 

Promise.

You wonder if Isagi remembers his promise in the same way that you do. 

It’s the only reason why you are going to the game today, after all.

Your hands loosen from the fist you’ve been keeping this whole time, deep crescent moons adorning the insides of your palm. A slip of paper flurries out from your hand - swishing with the wind in a way that a feather would. It dances around, until it lands in the puddle that has formed beneath your feet.

Shit. The ticket.

You bend down and clutch a now-soaked sheet of paper in your palm, tiny inscriptions that adorned the sheet now bleeding together. The only thing now visibly readable being: ‘JAPAN’S U20 VS BLUE LOCK’.

Rain really, really sucks.

(You’ve never hated it more.)

The bus finally arrives amidst the downpour.

(Yet, for some reason, a small part of you is excited to see the rainbow that comes after the storm.)

FIVE. 

Isagi has always loved the rain.

Ever since he was a young boy, the rain has always had a certain allure that captivated him more than most. In his eyes, puddles held miniature worlds within them, with pebbles acting as land formations and stray twigs imitating people. Enchanting. Raindrops race each other down window panes, with him as an eager viewer. Simply spellbinding. However, nothing has ever beat the feeling of playing soccer amongst the rainfall. The feeling of watching the opponents around you struggle to run in the mud, as you calculate the best direction to head in; pieces of grass decorating your cleats in the aftermath like a badge of honour. Getting sick afterwards is a simple price to pay if it means transforming the pitch into a battlefield. Rain makes the game something to remember.

It’s the duality of rain that makes Isagi treasure the phenomenon dearly; rain can be simultaneously beautiful and destructive at the same time. Which, shockingly to him, is the very same fact that makes you despise it so much.

Your face appears within his mind. Isagi smiles.

Ah yes, you.

The person who despises rain more than anything else in the world. Who groans at the slightest hint of darkening clouds, and acts as if drizzle is akin to acid rain that will obliterate everyone in an instant.

Nowadays, media outlets constantly poke and prod into your relationship with one another as Isagi’s reputation grows - at a speed only fathomable in his wildest dreams - wondering how he can love you so much when the two of you are so different in every sense.

“…They just don’t understand,” he said to you on a day where it was all too much. “They’ll never understand how you’ve changed my life, is all.”

“Me? The person who nearly forgot you? Who doubted you and thought that you would’ve forgotten about them too?” You angrily clenched your head. “I don’t see how you’ve forgiven me so easily for that.”

“I told you already,” he began. “When I was gone I had the same thoughts as you. I forgot you for a bit, too. I doubted you, as well. I could never hold that against you, because I did the same, and– and… I regret it everyday; I know you regret it too.” Isagi inhaled sharply. “But at the end of the day, we both remembered the promise. And that’s enough.”

“…Right. I’m sorry, Yoichi.” Your eyes locked with his through the gaps between your fingers. “I love you so much, y’know that?”

“I know.” He grabbed your left hand, giving it a swift kiss. “I love you more, infinitely.”

Isagi cherishes you like he is a marauder and you are the finest jewel; he looks at you like you’re the only person who ever matters. And that’s true. Because to him, you are. With the countless sacrifices you’ve made for him; sticking by his side every step of the way; waiting and waiting for years; being the brunt of scrutiny from the media - heck - even your peers in high-school prior to his Blue Lock debut, Isagi is unsure if he will ever be able to repay you for all that you’ve done.

…But he does have an idea on where to begin.

Isagi averts his attention to the sights outside the bus window. He wonders why the rain is extra pretty today. The beauty of the raindrops seem otherworldly currently - a cascade of water flowing down overflowing gutters, iridescent hues lining the streets that he grew up on, children jumping into puddles with no care in the world. The rainy downpour from the heavens above seems unfaltering - even against the brilliance of Saitama’s lights. And amidst the hustle and bustle - adults finding their way into comforting warmth - there is you. Waiting in the rain for him underneath the bus stop, face twisted in discomfort, twirling the umbrella in your hand round and round.

It is no coincidence that the rain is so charming today.

No. 

It’s prettier, because of you.

Always, you.

His sweetheart of many years.

“Hey, stranger.” You greet him as Isagi steps outside of the vehicle he practically grew up on, ushering him underneath the umbrella you brought with you.

You, who he loves more and more everyday.

“Hey yourself.” His eyes twinkle with mirth as he takes the umbrella from your hands. “It’s been a long time since we were both here, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Your face lightens up with the smile that he loves so much. “To think the last time we were here together was when…”

He looks into your eyes, face erupting with a mix of his boyish smile and laughter. “...When I kissed you. Yeah. I don’t think I could ever forget that night.”

The look on your face tells Isagi that neither could you. 

“Even though we’ve had countless other kisses since then, that one is still my favourite, y’know?” Your hands move up to cup his face within your palms. “Yoichi, you don’t do romantic things like that anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.” You stick your tongue out at him.

Isagi lets go of the source of shelter you are sharing, and lets it drift away with the wind. “Hey! We’re gonna get soaked!” You turn your back towards him, hands desperately trying to catch the stray umbrella that seems to be more than happy to escape. “C’mon Yoichi! What was that for?” 

“Turn around for me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” He says, a smile evident in his words.

Isagi sees you gasp, the sight of him knocking the wind from your chest. 

There he is, kneeling with his right knee down to the floor - pants getting soaked from the wet concrete below. And in his outstretched hands, lays a small, black velvet box, a diamond ring embedded within its centre.

“Will you marry me?” Isagi asks, starry-eyed. Voice soft and vulnerable.

One day came, and now you know Isagi is right.

Rain can be beautiful.

EXTRA.

“Hey, Isagi. What’s the date today?”

“June 20th. Why?”

“No reason,” a small grin makes its way to your face. “Just curious.”

[8makes1newworld]

Mine Forever

a vampire Seonghwa + human reader scenario for the beginning of Halloween season

I hope a certain someone likes this

warnings: wax play. unprotected sex. touch of degradation. blood drinking.

The candles burned low, casting an intimate and somewhat erotic glow around the room. The vampire studied the body of his subject closely, admiring the curves and angles. The wax and candles were a plaything to him, and so were you. His subject. He couldn't wait to see your reaction as the hot wax dripped onto your skin.

You knew you loved the pain that was dished out, and that was why you stayed all these years with him. Seonghwa knew it too, and that was why he wouldn't let you leave. You were stuck here with him, and he knew it, and that was part of the fun. He could do whatever he wanted with you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You gasped sharply as he poured the hot wax onto your skin, mind reeling with pleasure despite how painful it was.

"Taking it so well, pet~" A sadistic smirk twitched at the vampires lips. His face drew near yours as he watched your face contort with the mixed feelings.

His brow quirked as you whined. "Good. Taking it so well without uttering a single word just like how I trained you~" He smiled devilishly.

Your breath caught in your throat as he tilted the candle over your chest. The sticky warmth running along your nipples was enough to cause your eyes to roll back from the sickening pleasure while terrified of what he would do to you next. Finding it exhilarating just the same.

Seonghwa purred with pleasure as he watched the substance pool on your skin, his grin mocking as he watched you where you lie before him helpless and accessible to every whim that he had for you. Being indulged in all of his dirty ideas as you accepted innocently without question.

"You like being a vampire's toy~? Aren't we both so lucky~? You're all mine to play with." The low sound of his purrs made your hair stand on end even more than you thought was possible.

The vampire admired your curves. Finding you even more beautiful then the goddess venus herself as well as Eros.

His glowing red eyes surveyed your body where you lied down.

Indeed you were everything he wanted and more. Always stirring a feeling inside of him that he had thought was long forgotten to never return again.

With you he could remember he was a man as well as vampire, craving the sweet essence that pumped through your veins as well as the feel of your creamy soft skin that enticed him to touch you.

"Does my little one yearn for a reward?" The vampire smirked as he watched you nod eagerly.

"I wonder what I should give~ Such a gorgeous jewel would need something nice, maybe something that would leave a deep impression on you~" Seonghwa's voice rang in your ears as his fingers touched the wax that had now hardened on your nipples. Giving a tug that showed to whom your body belonged to.

You whine from the lack of sensation. How he loved to hear your sounds. So soft, so innocent and literally gifts stolen from a captured angel.

"Mh will this do, little slave~?" He slots himself between your legs suavely. His crotch pressed flush against your entrance.

You nod frantically as his face draws close to yours. The menacing look of hunger mesmerizing you.

"There, there. Such a cooperative little dumb pet~" His voice was like velvet, caressing your ears with unseen hands.

"You're all mine. No one will ever have you, little darling." His voice was a firm but gentle hiss. He discarded his pants hastily and climbed onto you with the grace of a cat.

Your heart pounds. Everything you ever dreamed of with this being was in this moment when it happened.

You moan in ecstasy when you feel his tip press into your hole. Your body arching as you tried to use your arms to crawl away from the stretch that threatened to fragment the remainder of what sanity you had left.

"How can I resist such a delicious delicacy?" Seonghwa smirks at you while your eyes screw shut. He groans in enjoyment as your wet cunt envelopes him in a heavenly embrace.

Your sweet moan electrifying him and making him feel every inch of his body come to life.

"So beautiful, made just for me the warmth of your sweet embrace of love is such a succulently sweet craving to feed~" His voice tender with hints of lust.

He thrusts into you deeply, getting closer to you to inhale your sweet scent. His eyes holding contact with the big beautiful eyes that he so frequently lost himself in.

You were more than just a plaything to him. But the darkness in his heart prevented him from ever saying so.

Your moans spur him on to thrust harder and your hands tangle in his hair passionately while his fangs mark across your neck. Branding you as his.

"My little slave~" He coos sensually and effortlessly coaxed your walls to flutter with arousal. The heat within yourself growing unbearable as the union of your bodies slapping together grew louder.

"Let it out, my little doll~" He growls against your neck, "No one else will have you."

You wildly writhe beneath him as your climax grows nearer, gripping onto the vampire for dear life as all reasoning threatened to shatter.

He smirks when he feels your throat constrict with a gulp. The temptation growing stronger as his mouth closes in on your delicious, pulsing artery.

You release with a screeching cry that could easily rival a banshee. Though the sound was far more soothing and spine tingling. The sensation of his fangs burying into your neck was more than your body could handle.

Pure ecstasy racked your senses and the only thing that you could think of was him. Sucking the blood that you willingly gave him.

He groans lowly as he empties himself inside of you. The heat lulling you to sleep. As well as the loss of blood.

"Mmnh~" You moan softly and close your eyes. Drifting to sleep as the vampire withdrew his bloody fangs from your body.

The vampire gazed down at you, admiring your sleeping face in the candlelight. Your serene expression reminded him of what he had once lost.

With care, he picked you up and carried you to his chamber. The Victorian-style canopy that accented his bed was what he felt was a fitting place to lay you down beneath.

He silently wished that he was a different being now, haunted by endless memories and regrets. But every moment of seeing your peaceful face and your body lying peacefully in his arms, he couldn't help but dream of what might have been.

"As Van Helsing once said 'there's no use in crying over spilled milk'" Seonghwa whispered to himself as he admired you while you slept peacefully in his arms.

He couldn't fathom how things could have been had he been human, but for now he was content to relish every moment with you.

Whether it was love or something else entirely, you were essential to him. He needed you, and he knew you needed him just as much, maybe even more.

No one could ever desire you like he did, and that made your submission to him all the more special.

He was going to savor every instance he had with you, and try to hold on as long as he possibly could. Then maybe, one day you would be a thirsting creature just like him.

The moonlight filtering in through his gauze curtains made a gorgeous, pearlescent glow.

Your peaceful breathing was hypnotic as he watched your beautiful face.

A dark smile played upon his lips as he admired you.

One day, he would be able to have you in his life forever, and this thought filled him with a sadistic joy that he could hardly bear to imagine.

"You're mine forever, y/n~"

[lili863]

Animagus

(pt 4)

Work count: 3.1 k

Matteo Riddle x MC

AN: Enemies to lovers, Quidditch, banter, conspiracies, dark arts, manipulation, death eaters, Slytherin boys, action, romance

Masterlist

You stood there in the hallway, quivering breaths escaping your lips, as your fingers skimmed the skin the your neck, where your pendent once sat. Full blown panic had set in and only thing running through your mind was how fucked you were.

This was the same pendent that you had as a child , a precious family heirloom and one of the most important keys to your future.

Quite literally.

That pendent wasnt just invaluable, it's also the key to the Cromwell manor you will be inheriting after 18. All your hopes and dreams were in that damn pendent.

You didnt know he was just going to snatch your necklace like that. It was last thing you expected. And how he managed to understand that this necklace was so worthy of silencing you was beyond you.

Unless...he stalked you this entire week and manage to make a good guess.

Your hands frantically ran through your hair as you exhaled a stressful sigh.

"Fuck" was all you could murmer.

Your lips burned from the kiss even now as your stood dazed, the taste of his arrogance still lingered on your tongue and humilation creeping up at the fact that you stupidly played right into his trap.

You knew you were smarter then that. You knew in the back of your mind with your inexperience there was no way that you could give him an unforgettable kiss.

No.

You were just being teenager who heart won over mind and really just wanted to kiss the him despite the the injustice and embarrassment he put you through.

Self hate and regret wasn't as common with you, but when you did feel it, it felt as if your skin was on fire and you wanted nothing more then bang your head repeatedly against the stone walls.

"Idiot" You murmured to yourself before beginning to walk back. How could you let this happen? How could you waste your first kiss him? How could he do this..to you?

It wasnt just the embarrassment, it was your dignity. And that's the wound you knew would take a while to forget about.

You tried to blink away welling of tears, knowing ti would be wasted on someone like him.

You needed that pendent back. Forget about the stupid deal, forget quidditch, forget ripple for now, that pendent is the only key to the manor. No duplicates.

If he wanted to threaten you to silence, then so be it. For you, you knew you had to comply. But whatver little feud Riddle thought he had with you, now just turned to full blown war.

Now you were pacing fast, each step a fueling the fire within you.

You were going get that pendent back one way or another, and he is going to pay with everything he has.

The Cromwell family is an ancient and distinguished wizarding lineage, its roots stretching back to the late 1600s. Though absent from the Sacred Twenty-Eight due to traces of Muggle ancestry that hasn’t stopped their name from carrying a heavy weight in the wizarding world.

The Cromwells are known for producing some of the best duelists and magical talents around. A fact backed up by the many family members whom carried aspen wands with rare cores.

Though their influence in Europe has diminished due to the family spreading out globally, the Cromwells still had a strong legacy. And a secret.

One that even someone as estranged as you knew and taught how to gaurd by your aunt.

Which was the family's unique connection to anicent magic. It’s a well-kept secret, passed down through generations, that the Cromwell line has produced a remarkable number of ancient magic wielders. This was truly set them apart from other families. What set you apart.

Ancient magic isn’t just a rare and powerful form of magic; it’s deeply entwined with the very essence of the wizarding world. It’s the magic of the 'old ways' as they say it, raw and untamed, capable of feats beyond the reach of even the most skilled modern wizards. Only a few people have ever been able to tap into it, and the Cromwells are at the forefront of those select few.

And as a direct descendent, you were given that pendant imbued with ancient magic to safeguard until your coming of age. It was your only key to surviving in this world without being thrown on to the streets to fend for self after Hogwarts.

This was exactly the reason were now siting in class, two rows down two tables down form matteo, frantically eyeing him and places where he could have placed the pendent.

Logically, it would be stupid of him to have it now, and your theory was correct when you eyes revealed no traces of ancient magic around him.

With a quiet groan, you sighed , placing your head on your palms.

You could see the traces of that pendent if it was near, but the fact that it was absent from the populated areas in school could only mean one thing.

It was probably located in the dungeons of Slytherin.

Suddenly, the chair next to you creaked, catching your attention. Ripple sat down with a stoic face, making your fists clench in disbelief.

"Why are you sitting here?" you demanded, your voice tinged with annoyance.

Ripple scoffed as he arranged his books, barely glancing at you. "As if I want to be here. Look around, Cromwell. All the other seats are taken."

You let out a dry laugh, eyes narrowing. "Trouble in paradise? What happened, Riddle and his gang didnt want to take you in?"

You purposely spoke louder, drawing curious glances from nearby students. Ripple's jaw tightened as he glanced around, a flicker of panic crossing his features before he leaned closer, growling, "Shut your mouth, Cromwell."

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Or what, coward?" you shot back.

Ripple leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your ear. "I don't know where you get off, thinking you can talk to me like that—"

"Oh, like Riddle? And everyone else in that little squad you’ve decided to cozy up to? Thought you'd be used to it by now."

"Riddle and his business with me are none of your bloody concern," he gritted out, his voice low and menacing. His proximity made your skin crawl, but you held your ground.

You leaned back slightly, a deep exhale escaping your lips "You're right. It isn't my business, not anymore. Matteo Riddle saw to that last week."

His mocking laugh grated on your nerves. "What? Surprised that the 'gang' I associate with actually has my back?"

You furrowed your brows, a stern look crossing your face "Trust me, you're doing a great disservice to your own house."

Ripple inhaled deeply, a twisted smile forming on his lips. "My own house couldn’t win me the Quidditch Cup if their lives depended on it," he said, his tone laced with scorn.

You furrowed your brows, anger bubbling up inside you. "First of all, what the hell do you mean by 'win it for you'?"

Ripple leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Unlike the Slytherins, they're a bunch of useless, inexperienced idiots who'd rather blow smoke up each other's asses than admit they suck."

You swore you saw red for a second. It was one thing to hear slander about your house from the slytherins, but it was another story to hear it from him.

"That's not true-"

"Matteo Riddle is the one making our wins possible," Ripple interuppted, his voice filled with a twisted admiration. "He's the one who actually gives a decent shit about about the team, allowing us to climb up the ranks. Him and his friends are the ones who are actively ensuring hufflepuff can win the quitch cup for once."

You stared at him, wide-eyed and incredulous.

"He's the only one I can count on," he finished.

The air between you two seemed to fall silent, the tension thick in the air. You searched for words, but none came to mind.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. "No. Ripple tell me you did not just say that. If your going to be a loser, then leave the rest of us out of it. No wonder they see Hufflepuff as weak. You're singlehandedly tarnishing our reputation."

His nostrils flared as he sat upright, a venom in his tone "Me. Ha. You and the rest of the house are the real joke. Always twiddling your fucking thumbs, waiting—no, begging for someone else to take the glory while you delude yourselves into thinking you made any effort at all. It's pathetic."

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm despite the anger boiling inside you. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’ve had our moments of complacency. But at least we have integrity. We don’t stoop to the level of selling out our own house for false glory".

"You think aligning with them makes you stronger? It just shows just how little faith you have in your own abilities and your team. And that, more than anything, is what’s truly pitiful."

Ripple's eyes flashed with anger, his voice rising in pitch. "You think you know everything, don’t you, Cromwell? Sitting there on your high horse, judging me. You have no idea what it’s like to be in my position, to watch our house lose year after year because everyone’s too proud or too scared to do what it takes to win. Riddle could be using me, but at least they’re doing something. At least I’m doing something. Better to be a pawn with a chance at victory than a useless piece standing on the sidelines"

"If you wanted to ride his dick then just say that" Your blurted out

Ripple's jaw slacked at your choice of words.

You swallowed hard, grappling with his words. Just because Hufflepuff hadn't clinched the Quidditch Cup didn't mean your house was a collection of failures. It meant there was a need for a strategic overhaul, more dedicated effort, and smarter plays. Besides, you could have at least sympathized with him had he made the effort to back up his bark.

In the end, he just wanted the easy way out.

Before he had a chance to say anything Professor McGonagall swept in, her stern expression casting a hush over the students. She cleared her throat, commanding attention with her authoritative presence.

"Today, we will be having Presentation Day," she announced. "Each of you will come up to the front and present your findings on the transfiguration objects you've been working on. This is your opportunity to showcase your understanding and application of transfiguration principles."

Ripple turned his attention to front, smoke practically fuming out his ears.

But you couldn't care less, normally you wouldn't talk to anyone this way, but damn it he was insufferable.

As the class dragged on, each student delivering their uninspiring presentations with monotony, your eyes repeatedly flickered toward Matteo. He lounged in his chair looking indifferent which only served to irriate you.

A part of you agreed with Ripple. Hufflepuff certainly weren't aggressive. They were more forgiving then the rest of the houses , often letting bygones be bygones. But you realized that leniency was being taken advantaged, especially by Riddle.

And you were just letting it all happen.

Maybe..maybe enough was enough.

Ripple rearranged his papers now for the fifth time in a row, a silent panic in eyes, the argument you two just had long forgotten.

You almost scoffed. Perhaps lover boy here was just nervous to present in front Matteo and his gang.

Then your eyes drew to one of his pages, sticking out of the pile, where transfiguration history was written.

As your fingers quietly drummed against the wooden desk, a thought suddenly entered you mind. You slowly sat up, your eyes darting to Matteo again as the gears turned in your head.

Maybe there was a way to kill two birds with one stone.

You subtly pointed your wand at Ripple's presentation papers, murmuring a charm under your breath. The pages shimmered subtly, and your eyes widened as the text began to shift and change.

With a nervous breath, you uttered another charm, this time your wand pointing at Ripple underneath the table. You weren't sure how effective this charm would be, but you hoped it would work well enough.

A few more minutes passed when McGonagall called out, "Mr. Ripple? You’re up."

Ripple nodded furiously, scrambling to gather his papers before quickly pacing to the front of the class.

You could tell he hated presenting and almost felt bad for him. Almost.

Everyone fell into a hush, all eyes forward, just waiting to get through this class. You on the other hand quietly sat back, silently glaring at him.

"Good afternoon, class. My paper will be on the transfiguration of chairs. As you know, the appearance or alteration of an inanimate object can be difficult based on many factors, including size, shape…" Ripple droned on, eyes glued to his six-page paper.

Everyone listened silently, albeit bored out of their minds as monotone voice filled the room.

"And so that concludes my first theory on the transfiguration of chairs," he said, shuffling to another paper. He took a deep breath and started again.

"Matteo Riddle."

The name hung in the air for a moment as people started to stir in their seats, wondering if they had heard him right.

You sat up, anticipating his next words.

"The loveliest, most handsome boy I’ve ever met," Ripple continued, his voice suddenly filled with an unexpected passion.

The class exchanged baffled glances, some looking shocked as Matteo’s head snapped up, his bored expression instantly replaced by one of bewilderment.

Ripple kept going, oblivious to the growing confusion around him. "His hair is like spun like curly gold, shining in the sunlight, framing his face perfectly. His eyes, oh, his eyes! They are like pools of liquid honey, reflecting the depths of his soul. I can get lost in them for hours."

Giggles began to spread through the classroom along with murmurs and surprised whispers.

Matteo furrowed bis brows, looking disturbed as Blaise and Theo looked at him completely taken aback.

"The way he walks, so confident and strong, makes my heart flutter. I adore the way he commands attention, the way his robes cling to his athletic frame. Every time he speaks, I am entranced by his voice, deep and smooth like velvet."

You snorted, clamping your mouth shut

By now, the classroom had erupted into barely contained laughter, students covering their mouths or burying their faces in their hands.

Matteo face darkened, a wave of anger washing over his expression.

"Ripple!" Blaise shouted, trying to snap him out of his trance.

Theo, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair with a snicker, quietly observing the spectacle.

However, Ripple pressed on, his voice growing more fervent. "And let's not forget his hands, so strong and capable. I dream of those hands holding me, guiding me. Even his scent, like a fresh spring breeze, drives me wild. Oh, how I long to be close to you, to bask in your presence, to be the one you turn to when you need comfort."

The classroom was in chaos, students laughing hysterically, some hooting and shouting, egging the boy on.

"When's the wedding, Riddle"!?

"Go on, tell us more!"

"Love is in the air!"

Others were speechless, staring wide eyed at the boy.

Even Professor McGonagall was shocked, staring at Ripple in bewilderment, her lips fumbling to say something, but no words came out. The normally composed professor looked utterly at a loss, her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury,

You observed the havoc, a litle overwhelmed with the uproar, but your knew this was going to happen, even if you did feel a little sorry for Ripple momentarily.

After all you didn't forget his words and blatant disrespectful behavior he had towards you and your house.

If he wanted Hufflepuff to have a back bone then this is it. He's the one who asked for it.

Jaw clenched, against Matteo's expectations, his murderous gaze did nothing to stop Riddle as droned on about his muscular arms.

"Someone's got a boyfriend!"

All of a sudden you flinched as he abruptly stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. Without a second thought, Matteo grabbed the nearest book and flung it at Ripple, hitting him square in the face and causing his papers to scatter everywhere.

The laughter and chatter ceased instantly, the classroom falling into a tense silence. Ripple groaned, rubbing his face as the scattered papers floated down like feathers.

All eyes were now on Matteo, whose expression was a contrasting mix of calm fury. You gulped nervously now being hit the real consequence of your actions.

Professor McGonagall finally regained her composure, her voice cutting through the silence with sharp authority. “Mr. Riddle, that will be quite enough! And you, Mr. Ripple—” she faltered momentarily, struggling to find the right words, “—you will come to my office immediately to discuss this… this inappropriate display!”

Matteo didnt care about detention at this point. He was willing to bear with a thousand at this point, just about ready to storm up and beat the shit out of Ripple, when something stopped him.

Ripple's face was twisted in confusion, his eyes wide and panicked. The mortified expression that followed made Matteo pause. Ripple’s gaze darted across the room, finally settling on something behind Matteo.

Following his line of sight, Matteo turned his head when his eyes locked on you, staring at Ripple with a triumphant smirk. Then your eyes flickered to Matteo.

The realization hit him like a jolt.

The room's chatters and McGonagall's attempts to restore order seemed distant, muffled by the blood pounding in his ears. He didn't know you had it in you to do something like this. He didn't even expect it.

For you, it was done. You've sent the message, might as well drive the point home. In a moment of bravery, you stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder and walk up to him, his eyes completely locked on you.

Without missing a beat, you say "Why don't you go and console your boyfriend, he looks like he's about cry."

Theo huffed a laugh as Blaise pursed his lips trying not to show a reaction.

Matteo eyes, now void of any fury darted between yours in silence, almost studying you for a moment.

"It was just a kiss Cromwell".

You blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. “Excuse me?”

Matteo’s lips curved into a sly grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. “If I knew you were going to be so anal about it I wouldn't have done it. My sincerest apologies"

A cold flush of humiliation and anger swept over you, washing away any hint of composure. The kiss, and the loss of your pendant, hit you like a jolt of icy water.

“I hope this little stunt of yours is worth the trouble that's coming,” Matteo said, his tone now tinged with a darker edge.

“Give me back my pendant, Matteo.”

Blaise and Theo exchanged surprised glances, noting the stark shift in your demeanor from your usual calm to something far more intense.

Matteo’s smirk deepened. “How about no?”

You leaned in as Matteo looked down, "Understand this, I've got nothing to lose. Hold onto that pendant, and I’ll tear through your world piece by piece to get it back."

A flicker of something akin to approval crossed Matteo’s face. He leaned down, his eyes now level with yours

“Good. I am counting on it.”

[sesshy380-rp]

(continued from here)

Kat stretched and flexed her wings. It felt nice for everything to be back in order again.

She’d explained Bakura’s situation to Nephthys, but the only suggestion she had was the one solution Bakura wanted to avoid. The Goddess explained that since it was Bakura’s goal to free the people of Kul Elna, they would have to be the one offering up the souls for the exchange to work effectively. Kat could use her eyes to see the souls, but Bakura would have to be the one offering those souls to the Gods.

The Goddess also pointed out a small issue: Bakura didn’t have a body to return to. She mentioned that the body acted as a physical anchor as it still held a portion of a person’s essence.

Bakura had mentioned multiple times about how they’d poured small amounts repeatedly into the dice they used in their Monster World game…but she also recalled them mentioning that they weren’t just them at the time.

She asked her grandmother if something like the dice could be used as an alternative if even a small portion of essence remained. The Goddess said it would be possible, but that more would have to go into the spell, as the caster would have to offer up a portion of their own essence to form a new body. Cue more questions, and more answers…along with very detailed instructions on how to go about retrieving the dice without being seen, other items necessary for the ritual, setting up the area for casting the spell, and so forth (obviously the Goddess wanted to make certain her half-mortal grand-daughter wouldn't mess up such a complex spell).

Nephthys created a portal to the place in the Living Realm where Bakura mentioned his former host resided. Bakura would be furious with her, but she felt this was something she had to do.

She replaced her mortal visage, took a deep breath to steel herself, then stepped through the portal.

*****

Kat looked over the item placement…again. She couldn’t afford to screw this up. Bakura’s literal life was at stake. If she screwed up, a fate worse than Ammit would be the end result.

She was beyond nervous. The panic attack she’d experienced after first stepping foot into Domino paled in comparison to how she felt now (she hadn’t expected to have every single one of her senses viciously assaulted by all the activity taking place around her).

Another run through of the mental checklist, along with the physical one Nephthys had written down, confirmed that everything had been done correctly and in the correct order. All that was left was to perform the ritual itself. She’d gone through this process repeatedly that going over it again was simply a measure to delay the final step, nothing more. She’d spent so much time delaying this, she was certain Bakura was probably beginning to grow restless awaiting her return (assuming they hadn’t done something to annoy Anubis or Kebechet to the point of locking them up until she returned).

She’d chosen an obscurely hidden location near a dock. Bakura had mentioned that they had stabbed their host while in control, then tossed the blade into the ocean. She could only hope this place was close enough to the one they had described; and that the connection to the place, along with the dice she had ‘borrowed’ from their former host (and thankfully still filled with a small portion of their essence), would be enough to help pull them from the Duat.

Kat positioned herself, and took a moment to calm her nerves. Her grandmother had given her a pendant that would return her instantly to the Duat once the ritual was complete so that she could recharge her heka, so that part was taken care of. She just needed to gather the confidence to take the final step.

If she went back now and told Bakura this was the only option, they would most likely set a warpath directly for the Gods. Their attempt to attack Ra directly was proof of that. The Gods would probably throw them into the same limbo as the souls of Kul Elna as a twisted way of reuniting them with their people. Kat didn’t doubt one bit that they would prefer that option of eternal suffering…but she didn’t see how it was fair that any of those souls deserved that fate.

She took a final breath, then began the ritual, pouring a portion of her own essence into as instructed. She could feel herself weakening and growing tired, and it was only the thought of what would happen should she fail that helped her to push through. Her heart fluttered in excitement when she saw the body materialize from the earth below, but she didn’t let it distract her…the ritual was not yet complete. Her body swayed and her vision blurred. She’d never attempted to do anything close to this level of magic before. She’d never had to. This was near God-tier level of magic. By all logic, she shouldn’t have been able to do a basic resurrection, let alone one that required a portion of her own essence.

The body before her groaned, and it was then that she knew she’d succeeded. She severed her connection to end the ritual, falling to her knees in exhaustion afterwards. Tired was not the word she would have used to describe how she felt at the moment. She felt dead. She wanted to see them…to hear them curse her for what she’d done. She needed to know that she hadn’t brought someone else over by accident. That she hadn’t somehow still managed to screw up something. Instead she felt the small discomfort of traveling between realms, her body landing harshly on solid ground in the process. The last thing she heard before the world was swallowed up in darkness was the sound of her father’s voice asking her what she’d done.

((@nb-lesbian-tkb))

[avatarskywalker78]

So while I was writing this Doctor Who fic I came up with the idea that the Celestial involved with Ruby's Mystery (because I'm not at all convinced her story's wrapped up in the slightest) could be the God - or, rather, the embodiment of Beginnings, The Oldest One by default because everything started at the Beginning, and while in the fic I left it vague as to how he was involved...I've now got an idea after thinking on it for a few days.

So we have this Celestial. The Beginning, Oldest Being In Creation, in this universe thought to be part of the Pantheon of Discord only it's not really that simple because nothing ever is, an entity that spans eons and space and time because there is always something beginning, somehow, and he mostly goes unnoticed. Unlike the others he (a pronoun he's going by at the moment, but as with other Celestials gender has no meaning) doesn't wield his power over others, doesn't hoard it - he's had his moments, of course, but he's long since learnt his lesson, so very long ago. Being an Embodiment (or a god or whatever you want to call yourself) comes with a certain degree of responsibility. The Pantheon never understood and the last encounter he had with them lead to him being imprisoned...or, at least, that's what they thought, but as most of them ended up banished from this plane of existence it wasn't like they had a chance to realise that they'd been entirely unsuccessful, and hopefully it stays that way.

Of course the Universe never lies still - the Last Great Time War caused a lot of ongoing problems and the last Time Lord gets into literal universe-ending situations. The Beginning doesn't really worry about this, at first, and despite the trials and tribulations the Doctor usually manages to sort things out. And then all of a sudden, the Doctor's backstory is different - the Doctor's species and origin is different, vastly differently, then the Flux happens when the embodiment of Time starts getting pissy about being constrained (despite the fact that the universes where it wasn't always ended badly) and a vast chunk of the universe is wiped out and it's Wrong, it's a gaping wound that he and his counterpart Ending feel keenly and the Beginning doesn't know this happened-

Then Fourteen unwittingly releases the Pantheon and Beginning knows exactly how it happened - the Toymaker and his brand of chaos. 'I made a jigsaw of your history' he gloats to the Time Lord, 'did you like it?' and Beginning isn't unsurprised at his complete lack of regard for life, but unfortunately it is a problem. The Flux was never meant to happen, the Doctor was never meant to be anything other than a Time Lord and now the Pantheon's back. Many ripple effects are being sent up and down the space-time continuum and the essence of Sutekh, currently wrapped around the TARDIS and something that could end Existence itself...forever. He can't be defeated in a conventional way and directly confronting him would just make the End quicker...

All these problems that need to be dealt with but currently? The Death God most of all. He needs a way to take him by surprise in such a way that he never sees it coming, and what he needs...is to buy time. He doesn't see how Sutekh's initial plan can be stopped but it could be reversed if the right people have time. There needs to be something that stops Sutekh from destroying absolutely everything, destroying the Doctor...

What better than a mystery? Something that would confound even Sutekh himself and he knows how this works, what Sutekh's power would do, how it erases generations going back...but what if he couldn't? What if there were no other generations? What if...

There were a person who appeared out of nowhere? No family, no blood connections, nothing and no one they could be traced to...and yet there was something Not Quite Right about them. A child abandoned and seemingly normal, until they aren't, until it seems that a Celestial is somehow part of them...even the God of Death couldn't resist something like that. And it's not that Beginning likes the idea at all, but there really is no other choice here - for the first time in a very, very long time they're going to have to create life in such a way that intrigues everyone, it has to be a story and a mystery...

He heads to a Christmas Eve in what one society calls the early noughties, cloaked so that no one can see him. Snow is falling and there's a carol being sung in the distance and in the midst of this he uses all of his powers - and creates a little baby girl right there and then. Fully human, as any test will show, but this is where she begins, and he heads over to the nearest church and leaves her there. Time changes, and she's suddenly taken by goblins. Time changes again, and the Doctor saves her, and this along with Sutekh's presence creates enough of a ripple that the Beginning is noticeable for the first time in ages, as he intended.

For the time being, he doesn't look back. There's the other pantheon members to track down - Doubt's gone native and Dread seems to have her own agenda - and there's still a massive great hole in the universe. The girl who'll become Ruby will hold her own, and will eventually be able to tap into her own power once the circumstances are right, and hopefully at least one great evil will be dealt with.

But it's going to be quite a long and complicated journey before they can properly fix things...

[nataliesilverman]

Spite is an incredible writing tool.

When I first started writing, it was because some of my favourite media had little details that drove me nuts, so I'd do it, and do it better.

Then I watched more things and blended more things. Then I realized I was doing it wrong.

Then I asked for input and help and people told me I was doing it wrong.

So I did it wronger.

The thing about doing things wrong is that it's kinda like the Matrix. Some rules you can bend, others you can break. Good storytelling does fit certain precedents that were established thousands of years ago. The human experience has remained pretty constant, and that's why people say that there's nothing new.

Here's something you can bend. A thousand years ago we were beating sticks of metal to hack through the other people we didn't like. These days we have factories that manufacture precision-built kinetic weapons that can do worse from half a mile away. War is a constant of human history, but how we fight it changes quite a lot.

People used to live more active lives. We used to clean more, cook more, hunt, build, tinker...there's another thing we can play with. This is where the idea of oppression, the daily grind, and all that come from.

What we didn't have a thousand years ago was flight, mass transit, cars, instant communication, fucking SPACE TRAVEL.

Even the idea of gods has evolved. In this day and age of billionaires and class warfare...little has changed. Older mythology is more akin to political allegory than anything meant to be taken literally. The gods are more often than not divinely appointed, petty beings who are immensely incompetent at their duties, and their subjects [humans] pay the price, while the middle managers of the spiritual world and the warriors of the lower classes [often humans] mop up those messes.

To get something truly unique and inspired, you gotta get philosophical. I find science fiction the easiest way to do that because it stretches forward into the unknown. Humanity, time, our understanding of the physical world, that's all up for debate. Fantasy is sort of like "alternate worlds" that operate on different laws of physics [magic] or alternate ancient history.

I often catch a lot of bullshit for utilising "incomprehensible" themes such as having characters multiple big bang-heat death cycles old, wars being fought on scales of immeasurable destruction, and the perception of time and space as a cohesive whole. And honestly, I'm kinda salty that you don't see that more often.

I'd love to see people stretching the meaning of humanity and reducing it to its essence to see what others get. I've seen this come close with things like Irredeemable, God of War, and Blame!. But it's my opinion we don't go far enough. Why stop at hundreds or even thousands of years? Why stop wars at planets, solar systems, or even galaxies? What happens to the human mind when it can see everything from the beginning of time to the end of all things? If you start augmenting the human experience, does it truly remain human?

All of this to say, fuck those people who called my characters Mary Sues.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

kairo this was my live reaction reading this u are PAYING for my hospital bills idc this unscrewed every single part of my brain

WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN ????? kairo i’m gonna have to go through a lot of these bc literally every single thing u said made me burst w joy like u really are just ?????? soooo attentive ??!!!! it blows my mind how u always notice those tiny details that i assume ppl will miss I LOVE UUUUUU I’M GENUINELY SO OVERJOYED THAT U LIKED THIS UR APPROVAL MEANS THE UNIVERSE TO ME 🥺🥺🥺🥺😥😥😥😥 sniffle .

FIRST OF ALL. THE SIKEN QUOTE AS THE TITLE??? WAR OF FOXES BABY i read the poem and wow… “i am faithful to you, darling.” is the ESSENCE of this entire story i’m so MOVED. 

I’M SOOOOOO HAPPY U TOOK THE TIME TO READ THE POEM and u get it!!!!! ofc u do!!!!! that particular poem is actually the starting poem of war of the foxes, so i thought it was fitting since . the entire collection is knight!sugu/royalty!reader coded to me 😭😭😭 AND IT’S JUST SUCH A PRETTY QUOTEEE i wanted it to match w the sunlight/painting motif hehehe… ”i am faithful to you, darling.” really IS the essence of the fic i can’t tell u how much i adore ur brain like U GET ITTT

”i paint in his face and i paint it out again.” — this quote from the poem also makes me think of them sm!! like there’s something so …. unbelievably tender and deep about painting the person you love most yk??? i firmly believe that reader would paint sugu lots of times and maybe shyly give one to him at some point ….. (he has to turn around so they don’t see the tears in his eyes LMAOOO loser)

i love the “wilted sunflowers” symbolism… i think it also ties into how reader views their life as of rn like it’s suffocating to be them and it feels like a weight is on their chest sometimes as well with how maids/the king treat them.

AAAAAAAAA U GET ITTTTTTTTT kairo ur brain is so huge so beautiful i wanna kiss it kenny style i was genuinely so overjoyed & hyped to hear all ur thoughts and interpretations!!! this is without a doubt the most symbolism/imagery-packed fic i’ve ever written LMAO there are soooo many details that are meant to represent reader and suguru and their mental states….. and obv the dream is a Big one. AND U ARE CORRECTTTT HEHE the dream is meant to symbolize both reader and sugu!!! the wilted sunflowers and the ravens and everything, the fact that both of them are suffocated by their duties…… suguru being stuck between his identity as the wolf and the knight, reader being a helpless onlooker……. etc etc.

i also wanted the dream to be heavy with foreshadowing LMAO the dragonflies appear throughout the fic when reader and suguru are growing closer to each other, the empty suits of armor are supposed to be referencing reader’s kidnapping and suguru turning into a ”wolf” while slaughtering his way through the bandits den, and so on!!! i’m so happy u liked it, the dream motif kinda came to me in a vision pjdjfjf but i’m so happy w how it turned out :’3

outright. Sexy As Fuck imagery <3 maybe it’s just me but the knight wants me sooooooo bad omfg… i LOVE how the knight is tall and IMPOSING… covered in STEEL… imposing & cold & in a way untouchable. love that the knight just stands there as it rains too i think it adds to the atmosphere beautifully… literally feels like i’m in a stand off w a terrifying knight in a cold barren clearing wowowowow

THE KNIGHT DOES WANT U SO BAD <33 he’s just shy <33333 kairo ure so real personally i don’t think there’s anything sexier than a Knight . armor and helmet on and everything. i openly drooled writing this scene. BUT AAA I’M JUST SOOOOO HAPPY U COULD FEEL THE ATMOSPHERE i wanted so badly to make it vivid!!! ur the sweetest ever i was genuinely giggling and smiling so wide reading all ur comments T_T dissecting my fics so so gently kenny has NOTHING on u!!!!!

it’s also fascinating how all the reader wants to see… is the WOODS. out of anywhere it’s just the woods. in sight but out of reach… the woods are kinda like suguru now that i think about it… 

KAIROOOOOOO I’M SHAKING UR SHOULDERS the amount of times i had to stop reading just to hold my head in my hands bc u GET it always always always!! if i’m being honest a lot of details in this fic were kind of absentminded, but then still ended up coming together to form a kind of pattern or concept…..,,, and with the woods i do think it’s just that!!! they’re close enough to see but reader isn’t allowed to go there, so it’s just this… itching temptation. a whole cavern of gold that they aren’t allowed to touch. and that just makes them more enticing !!

MIND YOU THIS IS WHEN I FELL IN LOVE W READER LIKENDNDNDNDNDN they’re JUST like ME fr 😭😭😭 put toji in front of me… the kingdom is gonna see something they’ve never seen before… if y’all are shocked that a sexy dilf assassin is now king LOOK AWAY! THAT’S MY MAN! I’M KEEPING HIM W ME IDGAF! if he tried to kill me then maybe i deserved it idk it’s not even a big deal fr <3 RUGGED SEXY W THE SCAR YUHHHHH

PHDJDHFUBDJF KAIRO U BRING ME SM JOYYY HAVE I EVER TOLD U THAT 😭😭😭 SOOOO FUCKING REAL I SUPPORT U SM snatch that dilf right up !!! he’ll assassinate the king for u so u can claim the throne right away <333 AND WAHH I CANT TELL U HOW HAPPY I AM THAT U LIKE MY BRATTY LIL READER they’re my angel on this earth <333 so sillyyyy getting attached to their kidnapper (they’re so real)

oh the clockwork mentions you had throughout this fic was absolutely FASCINATING. i don’t think i’ve ever even thought of/seen something like this before… what a very interesting way to express someone’s limit of patience… i reallllllllllly like that a lot omfg… a clockwork heart ticking down moments of patience/until they run out of “leftover” kindness… leftover is very important here bc tbh who would have patience/overt genuine kindness for a royal? i like the way you described this a lot and i also really liked the “tick-tock” you put throughout the fic to show this exactly! 

AAAAAA I’M SO 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i’m so happy…… tbh the clockwork imagery was never planned it just came to me randomly and then i got attached so i decided to roll w it pdhdjfjfj BUT I’M OVERJOYED THAT U ENDED UP LIKING IT i thought it’d be a good way to show the way reader views the people around them!! like clockworks waiting to snap <33 i also think that heartbeats and clock-ticks are rlly similar …. i had a bit too much fun writing tick-tock over and over again PHDJD

AND THE LEFTOVER PATIENCE PLEASSEEE THE FACT THAT U CAUGHT THAT IS INSANE TO ME u got it exactly right 😭😭😭 it’s leftover kindness bc no one in the castle truly cares for reader, they either love them as an extension of the royal family or as a kind of charity case … and that’s also why reader won’t accept it !! they’re not gonna sit there and feel indebted to the maids who placate them for their own sense of satisfaction … if it’s just leftovers then they’ll throw it away (but suguru’s kindness is genuine !! which is why they can’t help but warm up to him 💔 the maids give them leftovers and he makes them a warm meal….)

ari. ARI. ARIIIIIIIIIIIIII. your imagery is just SOOOOOO beautiful it makes me want to caress your brain (in an oddly comforting kenjaku way) <3 velvet, silky, smooth (all things to describe a voice AND clothing!) love the way you tie it into “tailored by the finest seamstress” & don’t get me STARTED ON THE DEEP RASP. “honey, wine, molten mass of spring clouds.” HOW DO YOU THINK OF SOMETHING SO BEAUTIFUL AND SO TRUE??? sweet elegant and beautiful… that’s suguru to a TEE

KAIRO STOP I’M ROLLING AROUND ON THE FLOOR …………. u r way too kind i had to clutch my chest like a frail victorian man ur words rlly do mean so so much i can’t tell u how reassuring this was 😭😭 and how much it means to me !!! u are just the sweetest ever ever ever cmere im hugging u 🫂🫂 IM SOOOOOOO HAPPY U LIKED THE IMAGERY and again … u caught the whole clothing/voice double meaning thingie ….. ure so impressive i’m on my hands and knees teach me ur ways pls I LOVE YOUUUUU

reader is SOOOOOOOO brattyteen!toru coded i’m not kidding… obsessed. your tags were so right like methinks suguru is a brat-tamer at heart (he’s had practice w satoru) ALSO!!!!!! mirth is such a fun word i can’t stop using it 😭 ANOTHER ALSO!!!!! “golden pears hanging off the branches” IS THAT TO DESCRIBE HIS EYES??? IF SO THEN THAT’S UNBELIEVABLY STUNNING

YES YES YES YESSSSS U UNDERSTAND ME U GET IT kairo i literally had this huge epiphany as i was writing …..,, where i was like ………. this is just teen stsg isn’t it . PHEIFBFJFJ THEY HAUNTTTT ME THEY WONT LET ME LEAVE no but genuinely i feel like my readers always end up emulating stsg?? i felt that way w the prince!gojo/knight!reader fic too 😭😭 and in this case reader is just such a little brat they rlly ARE just like toru … sugu being a brat tamer is canon to me idc he loves them and he loves making them go from feral and hissy to soft and pliant 😔😔😔 smhhh he’s a sick sick man he wants to be the only one who can calm reader down.. the only one who can get them soft ….

AND YES HEHE i was so happy w the ripe pears thingie 😭😭 idk i just think . he’s so golden pear coded…. idk ….. it makes sense in my brain … peaches and golden pears ….

ari you’re soooooo fucking insane……… reader always baring their teeth and wanting to test people’s patience but DEEP DOWN (not that deep down) they’re just. a lil goober. like someone who just wants to see the world and find friendship and who just wants to PLAY! they really are a little lamb <3 i think it’s cool how reader tries to act like a wolf but they’re a lamb and suguru tries to “act” like a lamb (he just has an air of natural placation) but is a wolf 

(i have a feeling i’m gonna be saying this for every single comment atp but) U GET ITTTTTTTTT EXACTLY i put so much effort into the animal symbolism 😭😭😭 and u truly get it !!! sugu acts domesticated but he’s feral deep down, reader acts feral but they’re always forced into a state of compliance and domestication … the way i see it sugu is a wolf who pretends to act like a dog, and reader is . a fox …. who pretends to be a wolf … but is forced to behave as a lamb …… u Get it i know u do. i mentioned this in the tags maybe i think but yk …… dogs guard sheep … from foxes and wolves… yeahhhh there’s this whole web of animal imagery lore in my head LMAO

also i need to mention this bc i felt so sneaky but . reader being a fox ……….. yk how the kingdom’s economy hinges a lot on wolves? and the selling and buying of wolf pelts? notice how … the king’s quarters are full of wolf pelts …. but he wears a fox pelt around his neck ………… yeahhh just putting that out there for u my dear dissector <3333

honestly! at first i was a bit hmm when you first mentioned that the reader would be bratty bc i didn’t know how you’d write them but i actually found reader the FUN type of bratty! endearing, funny, disrespectful but it’s with reason! i actually am quite fond of them :’) 

AHHH KAIRO I WAS SO GLAD TO HEAR THIS 😭😭😭 i think they’re such a fun lil brat !! the type who bites and bites bc they just cant help themselves… and sugu is their ideal man bc he’s so patient w them always <3333 i feel like if he ever actually got mad they would backtrack soooo fast bc they’re actually v sensitive :((( lil baby . after they’ve grown so close they couldn’t bear to make sugu angry at them i think… but he never could be !! they’re his baby !!! :(((((

WHAT A STUNNING WAY TO SHOW HIS DEVOTION TO PROTECT!!!!!!!! he RECITES it. “in the face of beasts, in the reflection of broken mirrors, a mantra to live and die by.” like are you affirming it to yourself or reminding yourself lest you forget suguru? that line……… had me so obsessed i reallllllly love the fact that he would say that to himself against foes. to himself. a mantra. wowowowow

I KNEWWWWW U’D LIKE THAT ONE KAIRO I PUT IT IN JUST FOR U HEHEHEH he recites it !!!!! ofc u caught that !!!!! it’s a scripture to him. AND YESSSS IT’S BOTH AN AFFIRMATION AND A REMINDER i have so many knight!sugu thoughts and a lot of them hinge on the idea that duty is something that corrupts… smth that knights cling to for survival and it makes them insane. i think sugu lives for his duty and deep down i think he wants to die for it too (maybe a lil more than he should)….

ANOTHER ONES OF MY FAVS!!!!!! DEVOTION THAT ENSNARES YOU FULLY WITHOUT ANY INTENTION OF LETTING GO!!!!!! AND YOU DON’T WANT IT TO EITHER BC THIS IS THE ONLY THING YOU KNOW!!!!! “dark and murky… dragging him down” the fact that you made it a point to explain the extent of his devotion in this manner is WILD. “devotion that smells of iron, tastes like steel, mania disguised as loyalty.” the only way suguru knows how to exist is by extreme intensity and bouts of insanity. like for REAL. i don’t think he can love normally bc he just throws himself head first and will envelope himself inside the mania of whatever the fuck he does… love the imagery of iron and steel for devotion… hard & cold and perfect for a knight. “mania disguised as loyalty.” it’s devotion and mania wrapped in one and it has no other way of showing it except baring its heart & teeth. blood and all. i think that’s how he likes it and that’s how he prefers it 

THIS MADE ME SOOOOO INSANE THIS IS US RN ^^^^^ U GET ITTTTTTTT ohhhh my god u get it… u get Him…….. i agree more than i’ve ever agreed with anything HE ONLY KNOWS HOW TO LOVE INTENSELY!!!!!! his devotion runs so deep i think it physically drags him down and spills out in everything he does …. like he tries to hold back bc he KNOWS it’s overwhelming yk?? but it still ends up seeping through here and there. he can’t help but love with every fibre of his being :((( it’s devotion and mania wrapped in one and it has no other way of showing it except baring its heart & teeth. blood and all. i think that’s how he likes it and that’s how he prefers it  <- u understand knight!sugu more than me atp what the fuckkk U GET IT U DOOO… i have nothing to add just know my brain exploded. fellow sugu soldier how i love u so <3333

ARI YOU NEED TO KNOW THIS ENTIRE PARAGRAPH HAD ME SO INSANE I WAS HOWLING. him cradling you as close as humanly possible me and him wanting to literally CUT himself open and fit you inside his torso/ribcage to keep you safe… MOTHER WOLF SUGURU. BARK BARK BARK at the end of the day you’re his baby…

HEHEHEHEH I KNEWWWWW UD LIKE THIS ONE or i was hoping so 👉👈 IM SO GLADDDD and yes……. mother wolf sugu … he’s mother wolf he’s papabear and u are his BABY no matter what :(( no other jjk man sees reader as their baby more than sugu does btw like the motherfatherism just makes him look at u like :) my baby . my little guy . i truly think he respects u so soooo deeply as an individual & equal but u are also His Baby above all else <33 he sees it as his duty to take care of u <33333 our man fr

i think you just understand such a core part of suguru as a person… like he’s ABSOLUTELY the type to always blame himself/overthink like we even saw this in jjks2 when he blames himself and satoru has to REASSURE him that no it wasn’t your fault. shit happens. please don’t let it eat you alive……… (i could go on a whole rant abt satoru and how empathetic he is and how his trauma shaped him and how his childhood shaped him into always being the one to take care of things/fix them…… he’s like a father figure too actually i won’t let me get into this rn but just know. satosugu are both papabear coded but in diff ways) 

SPEAKKKKKK YOUR TRUTH KAIRO this made me so insane so unhinged i LOVE hearing abt ur stsg thoughts i’m ur biggest fan just picture me nodding and kicking my feet to every word u say AND I AGREE!!! both on sugu and toru !! HEAVY on toru like u get it … THEY’RE BOTH PAPABEARS BUT IN DIFFERENT WAYS SO TRUEEE i don’t think ppl talk abt satoru’s maturity enough … his tendency to Care For and Safeguard ….. it’s so ingrained in him yk . and we see it over and over again !! with riko and then also with his students. mentally i’m always right here:

LIKEEEEE HE’S SO FATHER EXCUSE ME???? his trauma shaped him so deeply and left him so intent on safeguarding Youth at all costs and it just means so much to me :(( like i’m sorry but he really IS one of the most kindhearted jjk characters to me, not in a saintly way but in a very grounded way. he’s an adult who wants to spare children from the trauma he went through and it’s as much for him as it is for them but idk he’s just …. papa . papa gojo. i need him to father me i think

you always have such amazing dialogue like you make it so REAL like it actually feels like real conversations that people have! you have a wonderful grasp on when to make jokes and when to make proclamations of love and they never sound corny or out of place like that’s a real TALENT 

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞😭😭🥺🥺😭🥺😭🥺😭😭😞😞😭😭😭😭😭😭😞😭😭😭😭😭 KAIROOOOOOO DO U KNOW HOW HAPPY THIS MADE ME …. DO U …………. do u know i wept. U CANT JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THIS GIVE ME A WARNING OR SOMETHING no but. i’m genuinely so happy to hear that thank u 😥 i’m always a lil worried abt my dialogue … being corny….. so i’m tucking this comment deep into my ribs <333 it rlly means the galaxy to me u are far farrrr too sweet u need to pay for my visit to the dentist bc ur rb gave me actual cavities smh 😔😔

HE SAID THEIR NAMEEEEEEEEEEE. “LIKE A PRAYER.” “HONEY AND WINE.” “DEVOTION STICKS TO HIS TONGUE.” “HEAVY FONDNESS — SOMETHING DEVOUT.” “SOMETHING YOU’VE ONLY EVER HEARD FROM THE MOUTHS OF PRIESTS.” OH MY GOD?/$/!/$/$/$$/&/: THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FUCKING WAY TO SAY SOMEONE’S NAME AND THE LITERAL DEPTH BEHIND IT. THE REVERENCE. LIKENING IT TO SCRIPTURE??? MY GOODNESS. 

HEHEHHE I WAS JUST SO GIDDY THAT U ENJOYED THIS PART ….. i’m a big advocate of the Inherent Intimacy of Saying Somebody’s Name to me it’s a sign of being equals !! of respecting someone at the very core of who they are !!! and the tenderness of sugu saying reader’s name, loving them for being Them and not for being His Lord ……. yeah . yeahhh u get me i also always love likening sugu’s affection to faith lol i really do think his love borders on religion 😭😭 he can NOT love normally god bless 🙏🙏🙏

(don’t even get me started on priest!sugu…… like that is a TWISTED twisted man to me bc i really do think he would see his s/o as God. just straight up. and that will Not end well LMAOO he makes me ill i don’t think abt him often but when i do … phewww. his love is so heavy it’ll burn you both alive <33)

KDKDKDKDKDKDKDKSKSKSKD CAN I GET A HELL FUCKING YEAH FOR THE KING MOST LIKELY KICKING THE BUCKET! NO NEED FOR HIM TO ACT ANYMORE……… IS READER NOW THE KINGDOM LEADER??? also sitting in suguru’s lap hehehe i’m giggling twirling my hair kicking my feet 👉🏼👈🏼

HELL YEAHHHHHHHHH hehehe i wanted the ending to be very vague and open for interpretation :333 but i do picture them eventually becoming the ruler w sugu still as their knight !! or maybeeee they can find someone else to fill the royal shoes …. and escape their duties ..,., maybe sugu makes the choice to be reader’s knight alone …… who knows who knowssss either way it’ll end with them in his lap and him in their lap <3333 sidenote kind of but i do picture this reader as similar to urs in the sense that they both kinda like manhandling him 😭😭 likeeee royalty!reader can and WILL tug sugu into their lap whenever they feel like it and he just has to indulge them bc they’ll whine otherwise <333 ideal dynamic i adore them

KAIROOOOO i could mention more of ur comments bc TRUST me when i say that they all made me weep tears of joy and absolutely made my whole month/year/life but i’ll leave it at that <33 U MEAN THE WORLD TO ME i can’t tell u how much it means that u took the time to read this novella of a fic !!! and to comment on it so thoroughly !!! 🥺🥺 u are an angel and i am kissing ur forehead softly. wrapping knight!sugu & assassin!toji up in ribbons and sending them to ur location <3333

………………. ok but. knight!sugu x royalty!reader x assassin!toji ……………….… how do we feel abt that gang (”gang” as in ”kairo specifically”) ………

what if toji somehow escaped from the dungeon they put him in… and returned …… but as reader’s bodyguard this time …….. maybe he made a deal with the king …….. and now reader has two buff sexy bodyguards who just so happen to hate each other 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 WHAT DO WE THINKKKK i fear u’ve broken my brain kairo….

sigh . i added it to the wips 😞😞😞

the paint doesn't move the way the light reflects ; suguru geto

synopsis; when the king puts you under the supervision of a dashing knight, you promise to make his job as difficult as possible. unfortunately, suguru geto is the patient sort.

word count; 21.1k (this accidentally turned into a novella idk how it happened nobody look at me :’3 this is a love letter to sugu ok…)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, knight!sugu x royalty!reader, royalty au (not accurate to any time period ever), technically a bodyguard au, slowburn, reader is a brat and suguru likes it a little more than he should, reader also has thinly veiled daddy issues, protective sugu :3, he goes feral in one part (descriptions of violence and bloodshed), reader gets briefly kidnapped lol, very fluffy overall though!!, includes shifting povs & time-skips, also lots and lots of devotion, knight!sugu is real & beautiful & loves you specifically <33

a/n; HAPPY late BDAY SUGU MY BABY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE this fic has been in the works for a WHILE now and means a lot to me much like sugu himself :’3 dedicated to my beloved @kissxcore for infecting me w this concept & also my dear @mossmurdock for bringing knight!sugu into my life, both of u have made the brainrot infinitely worse and i will never be free (and ofc @softgirlgonehaywire & @dollsuguru & @jtkys for being the sweetest always) I LOVE U ALL!!!!!!!!

like most things, it begins and ends with a dream.

images form in the depths of your subconscious, wild and vivid, splattering on the canvas of your mind. a dream of cold metal, dark thickets, iron-scented skin — and a knight. 

(or… a wolf?)

before you is a small clearing. trees sprout from the rugged grounds, blooming proudly, clogging up the wool-coated sky. all around you lie empty, discarded suits of armor, dirty with rust and something that smells of death. wilted sunflowers stumble under their own weight, and dragonflies buzz in a frenzy, manic, driven to hysteria. in the distance you think you hear the shrieking of ravens.

and there’s a knight, just ahead, tall and imposing, covered in steel from head to toe. holding a blinding sword, facing the sky, doing nothing to stop the pitter patter of raindrops ricocheting off his burganet. you stand by the entrance of the woods, and watch him in silence. 

he looks a little lonely. 

and in comes the wolf. gracious, growling, big and bad, snarling and showing off the white of its fangs. dragging its claws against the ground, unruly fur ruffled by the harsh breeze; widening its maw, a silent fury on its tongue. from this angle, it looks a little like a grin.

the wolf begins to chase the knight. or maybe it’s the knight chasing the wolf — you can’t really tell. they run in circles around each other, like the sun and the moon, an orbit of violence, matching their steps. almost in harmony — almost, but not quite, because suddenly they’re closing in on you, great and ugly, beasts wearing different hides, and —

and that’s when you wake up.

”your highness!” 

a groan pushes past your lips, groggy with fatigue, and your eyelids flicker open like the drawing of a flimsy curtain. a series of mismatched little blinks, until your vision clears. 

above you waits a familiar face; impatient. one of the maids, your foggy brain tells you. and she isn’t pleased.

but all you do is drag your limbs up to cover your pillow-creased face, sluggishly, muttering beneath your breath. ”a wolf…”

silence. 

the maid tilts her head, with a furrow of her brows. 

”… excuse me?”

”there was a wolf,” you echo, a dreamy exhale muffled against the skin of your palm. stifling a yawn. ”and a guy… he was cool.” 

she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. settling back into her usual rhythm. mildy berating. ”did you have another one of your dreams?” she asks, a little irritated, and for a second you think you hear a tick-tock ticking down. ”at any rate — you need to get up. the king and queen demand your presence.”

ah. of course.

a huff, displeased, even as you force yourself into a sitting position. stretching your limbs like a grumpy feline. ”demands…” you murmur, a click of your tongue. ”they think they can just wake me up whenever they want? at the crack of dawn?”

”it’s 11 a.m, your highness.”

”early as hell,” you rasp, willfully tuning out her murmur of mind your language. letting your legs hang off the bed. ”what do they want, anyway?”

following your silent cue, she hums, walking towards the edge of the room. picking up your discarded blouse, and bringing it to you. ”i was told it was of utmost importance,” is all she says, lifting the fabric as if getting ready to dress you.

”i can do that myself,” you hiss, snatching the white silk from her outstretched hands. as always, she does nothing but sigh, sigh, sigh. it’s all they ever do. ”i’m not a toddler.”

from your position, still cozied up in bed, on messy sheets and fluffy pillows — you can see the view beyond your translucent window’s glass. a sky so gray it’s almost comforting, dark clouds forming in the distance, silently ruminating. when the maid pushes it open, and a cold breeze slips through the gap, you can smell the rain; heavy, earthy, daffodils and oak wood. in the distance, sunflower fields seek shelter from the downpour. 

but your eyes remain glued to the woods. far ahead, but still close enough to see — the woods you long for. the ones you’ll never get to see up close. 

a bitter taste blooms on your tongue. 

(spitefully, your teeth sink into the tender flesh of your bottom lip.)

”fine,” comes a heavy sigh, ruefully resigned. forcing yourself into compliancy. before you can change your mind, you hop off the mattress, running your fingers through tousled strands of hair. ”i’ll go see them.”

and she brightens, visibly, disapproving frown smoothed away with the breeze. for now. ”thank you. they are worried, i’ll have you know.”

a scoff, as you cross the threshold of your private quarters. humorous. ”i bet they are.” 

”your highness,” she calls, following close behind. her tone is reprimanding, now; you will yourself not to shrink. ”we almost lost you.”

”i almost got kidnapped,” you huff. ”not the same thing.”

again, that exasperated sigh. it’s a wonder her lungs haven’t run out of air. ”do you have any idea who that man was?” 

the question makes your mind still. shifting gears, a clockwork coming to life, repeating it inside your head — do you have any idea who that man was? 

”… he was hot.”

sigh. you hear it before it comes, and raise your lips on instinct. 

”no, i mean it!” you ensure her, throwing a fleeting glance behind you. ”he just had that rugged look about him, you know? the scar and everything…” a blissful little exhale, as you gush over your would-be killer. ”what a waste. if only he had gotten away.”

”with you in tow?” the maid quips, raising a brow. her words are steeped in irony.

”of course!” another disapproving glance. ”i mean, did you see those biceps —”

”behave.”

with a flutter of your puffy sleeves, you turn around to face her. and ah — there it is. the hardness of her jaw, those frosty pupils, the impending signs of her dwindling patience. you can see it, hear it, that eerie tick-tock signaling the breaching of her limit. all humans have one; a clockwork heart, of sorts, ticking down to the moment they run out of leftover kindness to give unruly heirs. 

over the years, you’ve gotten expertly good at making the clock tick quicken. a skill you’re very proud of.

”and what if i don’t?” you bite back, just barely restraining your growing grin. delighted at the attention. ”he had nice biceps! what, am i not allowed to tell the truth?”

and the tick-tock quickens. she stills, just behind you, hands on her hips. frustration bubbling beneath her sharp syllables. ”my god, you are impossible today!”

for a moment, you stop to look at her. weighing your options. should you reel it back in, try and appease her? or keep pushing? the answer, as always, is push. it’s all you’ll ever do.

so you turn on your heel, and take a step forward, a spiteful grin curved into your lips. ”deal with it, or leave.” a beat. ”i don’t remember asking you to accompany me.”

before you round the corner, your ears pick up on one final harsh sigh. she makes no move to follow you.

(hmph.)

”where is your maid?”

in front of you stands a throne, proud and luxurious, polished marble, two seats right next to each other. the quarters of the royal pair are the same as always, vivid paintings hanging from every wall in sight, wolf pelts thrown over tables and windowsills. the scent of dried lavender seeps through the air, suffocating you. 

and, of course, the king. speaking to you with the same judgemental voice as always; one you’ve grown painfully accustomed to. 

”i wanted her to get me breakfast,” is the lie you decide on, finely tailored in white. just to make sure she doesn’t get into any actual trouble. ”you didn’t exactly give me time to eat any.”

the king sighs, mild disappointment laced into the breath. nothing new. when he says your name, it comes out sounding like a bad joke. ” — you aren’t a child anymore. one day you’ll be ruling this kingdom; forcing the maids to do your bidding won’t win you any favours.” 

”mhm.” absently, you fidget with the sleeves of your blouse. not quite listening. ”so, what did you want? it’s not often i’m allowed here.”

an evil glint shines in your eyes, for a moment. you cast a meaningful glance at the maid by your father’s side — his personal favorite. 

”don’t you have, ah…” you taste the words on your tongue. ”more pressing matters to attend to?”

he doesn’t flinch. as always, he pretends not to know that you know — that everyone knows. 

yet he still gives you that cold, cold look, colder than the howls of wind beyond the castle walls, cold enough to send a shiver down your spine. it makes you want to push, push, push. break the clockwork in half.

but he’s wise enough to follow your lead. “let me get to the point, then,” he cranes his neck, showing off the fox pelt snug around his shoulders. ”the queen and i thought it best to hire a new knight for you.”

you blink. eyelashes fluttering. all you can hear is the pitter patter of rain against the windowpane. 

then you groan.

”another one?” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet on the floor. ”please, no. it’s such a pain getting rid of them. you know they won’t last long!”

”we aren’t talking about any ordinary knight,” he tuts, as monotone as ever. ignoring your little temper tantrum. ”after what happened with toji zenin, we aren’t taking any chances.”

you tilt your head. confused, for a moment. ”toji?” the gears of your mind turn, clicking into place; zenin. a family of assassins, a man with a scar on his bottom lip. ”ohhh — the hottie.”

your father pretends not to hear you. 

”it was a close call,” he hums, and you muster the strength not to crack another joke about his biceps. it takes restraint. ”we need someone who can protect you properly. indefinitely, from even the stealthiest of assassins. so…”

your eyes meet his. gazes overlapping, the same colour, one above and one below. he’s always, always towered over you. for as long as you remember. 

that is what royalty means — absolute dominion. 

(it makes you want to curl into a ball.)

”today, you’ll be meeting with the greatest knight.” he says the words with an odd sense of pride, an inner satisfaction. ”he’ll be here any moment. i thought it best for you to get acquainted as soon as possible.”

a moment passes. you’re broken out of your bout of compliance, like a rubber band snapping. a clock tick quickening. ”wait, what?” you gape. ”father —”

”your majesty.” 

…

the correction is stern. gritting your teeth, you force the words from out your throat. ”… your majesty,” there’s a slight grumble to your voice, ”what the hell? now? i haven’t even —”

”you have no choice in this matter,” he cuts you off. coldly, coldly, coldly. ”behave, and there won’t be any complications.”

behave.

behave, behave, behave. it’s all they ever want from you.

(you might as well be a pet.)

the queen is silent, as always. eerily so, not saying a word, like a puppet on a string. she hasn’t looked you in the eye even once so far, not even a passing glance. not like you’d expect her to. her clockwork heart stopped beating for you a long time ago. 

automatons, the both of them. making decisions for you, like there isn’t a sliver of rational thought in your brain. how irritating.

you’re just about to part your lips, when —

”… am i interrupting?”

you still.

a velvety voice. silky, smooth, tailored by the finest seamstress — tucked between the slightest raspy vowel, a hint of something deeper. it sounds like honey, wine, a molten mass of spring clouds. 

the king ahead of you brightens, suddenly, lips curling up into a smile. it looks almost warm; you didn’t know he was capable of making that kind of expression. ”ah, suguru!” he calls out to the source of the noise. ”no, certainly not. forgive me for the short notice.”

when you turn around, you see a knight.

he’s beautiful. gorgeous, even. fair skin, sharp facial features, no scars to be seen. a sword hangs in a scabbard by his hip, and he’s wearing a set of armor, still glistening with the aftermaths of the rain beating down outside. his hair cascades down the metal like a black river, loose and silky, a single strand obscuring his pretty face. and his eyes are a soothing shade of brown; you’re almost certain they’d look warm, if there was any sunlight to engulf them. as it is, in the shadow of a murky spring morning, they’re a dark cedar, almost obsidian. but they look kind. 

and they’re fixed on the king. he’s smiling, too, a dangerous little tilt. disgustingly charming. he hangs his head in a bow, hand on his heart — reverent.

(ah. he’s one of those knights.)

”my king,” the strange knight greets, tongue wrapping around the vowels like a dragon curling around a pile of gold. ”not at all. i’m always grateful for an opportunity to see you.”

(oh god. it’s even worse than you thought.)

”i should say the same of you,” the king echoes, with a warmth that you’re wholly unaccustomed to. your stomach churns, swirling with discomfort. ”our nation’s pride and joy.”

the knight chuckles; muffled by his closed fist. he’s feigning embarrassment, you can tell. ”you flatter me,” he purrs, words flowing smoothly from his lips. too smoothly. ”i’m simply doing my duty as one of your subjects. but, needless to say — i’m honoured to have earned your respect.”

finally, his gaze shifts to you. and you think he must notice how disgusted you are, the reproach you feel for him, that silent contempt. because you aren’t trying to hide it; it’s there, clear as day, in the crease of your brow, your frosty pupils. lips pursed, like they’re aching to bare and to bite.

but he continues to smile. warm, still, like a mellow summer breeze. a well of pizzicato drops.

you feel a little nauseous.

”ah, and you must be the royal heir?” a tilt of his head, knowing. a shimmer of recognition painted in those ashen eyes. ”or should i say…. my liege.” 

he walks towards you, in long strides, slow and steady, only to get down on one knee. ew. ”forgive me; my name is suguru geto. your knight, from this day forth.” his palm unfurls, cedar eyes crinkling with feigned endearment. holding it out towards the subject of his newfound devotion. ”i’m delighted to finally meet you.”

(suguru geto. you’ve heard of him, of course. who hasn’t?)

his hand stills in the air, waiting patiently for yours; to bring it to his glossy lips. but you don’t do anything. nothing, other than studying his smile, picture perfect, tailor-made, sweet enough to melt on your tongue. so sweet you know it must be at least a little bit fake — the smile of a liar. 

it’s a smile you know well.

so you mimic it, a bitter glint in your eyes, only for your hands to retreat to your pockets. and out comes a purr. ”you’re a bad actor.”

silence. the knight doesn’t flinch, not even close, but he blinks, a flutter of his dark eyelashes. like a raven taking flight. that everlasting smile never falters, but for just a second, a clock-tick or two, you swear you catch the slightest hint of something flickering through his keen iris.

interest?

”forgive them, suguru,” the king is quick to chip in, finally stepping down from his throne to join you on the floor. the queen doesn’t move, but she gives suguru a fond smile, and it makes your grimace deepen. ”they woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning. and they’re a bit of a problem child — i’m sure you’ve heard.”

that makes you snicker, silently. maybe just a little bit smug. you’re sure it must be a headache for him to deal with.

”i can’t say i haven’t,” suguru chuckles, raising himself up from the marble floor. your smile falls. ”but it’s not an issue. i understand.”

he looks at you, really looks at you, and you give him an unimpressed stare. wholly disinterested. trying not to squirm under his scrutiny. 

”i’m sure it must feel suffocating — being under this kind of supervision.” he gives you a tilt of his head, strands of charcoal following the movement. smooth, like a waltz, one you didn’t agree to. ”isn’t it?”

ah. the sympathy card.

before you can answer, he bows; hand on his heart. knights and their rituals. ”i’m at your service, my liege. if i make you uncomfortable, at any point, just tell me.” once more, he meets your gaze, a sincerity in his own — reserved just for you. ”really.”

… ugh.

to your right comes a pleased voice, deep and satisfied, as self-affirming as ever. ”i knew i could entrust them to you,” the king speaks, placing a palm on your shoulder. you try not to flinch. ”aren’t you grateful? this handsome, kind man is all yours.”

a sharp scoff is all you can muster, nails digging into the skin of your palm. but suguru only chuckles, good-natured.

they continue to speak, about this and that. you tune out most of it, caught up in preparing for the long headache ahead. sure, you’re an expert at getting knights to quit, but it takes time. weeks, sometimes, just to make them finally crack, push and push until their patience reaches its limit. and suguru seems resilient. more than anything, he seems thoroughly loyal to the king; that really doesn’t bode well for you.

but before you can formulate a step-by-step guide to making his job a living hell, the sound of your name snaps you out of your trance.

it’s the king, of course, as always. you hate that you still instinctively respond to his call. like an obedient puppy. ”show suguru to your quarters. he’ll be accompanying you indefinitely, from now on. don't give him any trouble.” his voice finally sounds cold again; a warning. ”i’ll hear about it.”

(indefinitely.)

a moment passes. then you sigh, deep and heavy, haphazardly hiding a roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah,” you cross your arms. ”i got it.”

suguru meets your furrowed brows with something gentle, a soothing little smile. offering his arm, for you to hold on to. knights and their rituals. ”shall we?”

but you brush past him. stubborn in your independence, in your desire to make this as discomforting for him as it is for you. ”follow me,” is all you say, a dissatisfied huff. loud enough to pick up on.

to your great displeasure, he matches your hurried pace. side by side, as you walk down the halls, the clicking of his shoes echoing against the marble. a shadow you can’t shine away; one that’ll stay with you indefinitely. you feel his gaze burn into you.

”my lord.”

”don’t talk to me,” you sigh, sharp like the sword by his hip. a low click of your tongue. ”just so you know, i didn’t agree to this.”

”that was my question, actually,” he grins, ever so slightly. fingertips tapping against his scabbard. ”i am sorry, you know. i meant what i said — i’m sure it’s difficult for you.” he casts you another one of those meaningful glances, a meaning you have no intention of discerning. ”but i have my orders.”

you bite back a laugh. ”you guys love those, huh?” when you turn your head to face him, still walking forward, he’s met with a taunting smirk. ”your little orders.”

but his smile doesn’t falter. damn.

”not a fan of knights?” he asks, instead, a playful lilt to his syrupy voice. coaxing, accommodating. infuriating.

”nope.” your footsteps quicken — but he keeps up, effortlessly. curse those abnormally long legs. ”you’re all just bootlickers. especially you.”

”oh?”

”don’t oh? me,” you snap, practically growling, ”like you weren’t seconds away from making out with the king back there. it’s all so fake.” the comment makes the corners of his lip quirk up, but you don’t turn around to see it. ”now that you’re alone with me, you’re already acting way less uptight, see?”

he hums. ”i figured it’d make you feel more at ease.”

”god, will you just cut it out?” a hiss breaks out of your throat, sharp and exasperated. tired, drained. you just want to go back to sleep. ”quit acting like you care about what i think. you’ll do whatever the king asks of you — that’s all you really care about.”

suguru stays silent, this time. matching your steps, observing you silently, out of the corner of his eye. the frown on your lips, the crease between your brows. etching them into his memory. you’re pissed, that much he can tell. and you definitely, definitely don’t like him. 

(”you’re a bad actor.”)

the knight comes to a standstill. parting his lips, enough for his voice to flow through, silken sheets and molten honey. a raspy tilt he tries his best to hide.

but his words carry a sincerity he could never fake. 

”from now on, i serve you.”

when the clicking of his shoes against cold marble flooring fades away, you halt. turning around, hesitantly, quirking a questioning brow. rain beats on beyond the window to your left, flicking against the glass, droplets clinging to the translucent surface. marigold petals kiss the windows in a flurry of cream and orange, fluttering about with the harsh bites of the wind, carried from the castle’s orchard. the endless hallway you find yourselves in smells of rainwater and spring.

suguru looks steadfast, where he’s standing, immovable. a little like a pillar of salt. when he speaks it sounds like he’s reciting a scripture.

”i’m loyal to the king. i have to follow his orders.” 

there’s something about his words that you can’t quite pinpoint. is it guilt or pride? ”but i am at your service. certain things are set in stone, but not others. i’ll let you decide how this goes.”

the hallway goes silent. he smiles, again, smaller this time. somehow more genuine.

”from now on, i’m your knight.” the pitter patter of rain mashes with the steady beating of a clock; rhythmic, soothing, a lullaby of rust and time. ”that’s all. i won’t be anything else.”

you stare. lips pursed, awaiting a clarification, but it doesn’t come. he’s giving you time to respond.

(he’s your knight, now. indefinitely yours.)

an inhale. the clock hands of your heart begin to move. ”in that case,” you exhale, lips curling up into a taunting smile. pleased with yourself. ”i promise to be the most insufferable lord a knight has ever had. i won’t make your job easy for you.”

and suguru only chuckles. raspy, like the bark of a tree, claw marks on the ground. ”good,” he grins, eyes rich with mirth, golden pears hanging off the branches. ”i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

he looks sincere. sounds sincere. all you do is blink, a sense of frustration nibbling at your heart, but the knight before you doesn’t falter. he only offers his arm to you, once more; a silent step towards reconciliation.

you watch him, silently. 

then you’re turning on your heel, swiftly, a low grumble at the base of your throat. ignoring him and his offer, walking towards your room with irritated steps that fade as you turn the corner.

behind you, suguru’s smile only grows.

”good morning, your highness.”

blinking sleepily, still regaining your ability to form coherent thoughts, all you can do is stare. studying the figure above you, towering over your half-asleep form, the deadpan expression on your face.

black hair, and amber eyes. a disgustingly charming smile. 

the gears of your mind finally click into place.

a whine flows from your lips, meek and disapproving, and you roll over to your side. pulling the covers over your head, as if to protect you from the existence of your newly hired knight. so it wasn’t just a bad dream.

but he doesn’t fade away, like an apparition. he stays right by your bed, crouching down next to it. you feel the weight of the mattress shift when he rests his elbow on the cushion. ”still too early?” he asks, soft enough not to grate your sensitive ears. ”i was told you usually get up around this time…”

a muffled groan. ”leave.”

”i’m afraid i can’t,” he hums, but you don’t sense much remorse. ”i’m not supposed to let you out of my sight for more than brief intervals at a time… that’s one thing i can’t compromise on.”

”i don’t care,” you whine, petulant. tightening your grip on the blanket surrounding you, desperate to savour the leftovers of your fuzzy dreams. ”’m not getting up…”

a click of his tongue. quiet, contemplative. until he decides on a course of action.

”would you like me to bring you breakfast, then?”

…

slowly, your eyes flicker open, consciousness beginning to stir. the tasty temptation rouses you from your half-slumber, ever so slightly; because he sounds sincere. he sounds like he really will bring you breakfast, if you just give him the order. 

it’s tempting. dangerously so. 

(how long has it been since one of the maids actually bothered to serve you breakfast?)

”… whatever,” you croak, finally. weighing the value of your own response — putting effort into not sounding too excited. (but you are.) ”sure. do what you want, just let me sleep.”

a relieved little breath slips from suguru’s lips, as he watches the lump under the blanket stir. ”alright,” he breathes. ”what would you like, my lord?”

(suddenly, you get an idea.)

a smug grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief on your mind. ”figure it out yourself,” you chirp, awfully pleased with yourself. 

silence. 

then, you hear him hum — rising to his feet with a quiet groan. ”understood,” he quips. ”i’ll be back as soon as possible, your highness.”

when you hear the creaking of the door, as he steps over the threshold, you barely restrain the urge to kick your legs in victory. now he’s sure to get you the wrong breakfast; and then you can be as difficult as you please, demanding something else, over and over. an ungrateful, spoiled little brat. that’ll definitely make him quit. 

— sadly, it seems you were underestimating him. just a tiny, tiny bit.

before you, on a silver tray, lays a wide variety of breakfast foods. everything from syrupy pancakes and buttery croissants to neatly cut sandwiches and porridge, slices of fruit and fresh lemonade, coffee with cream and sugar, tiny jars of marmalade and jam. sparkling, glittering, begging to be devoured. handmade, you can tell, meticulously crafted by someone who knows what they’re doing. with a gulp, you attempt not to openly salivate — you had no clue the kitchen workers were this talented. 

for just a moment, you’re entirely speechless. he really went ahead and got you some of everything.

stumbling for the right words, any words, the only thing that escapes your throat is a meek huff. meant to sound displeased, but coming out just a little awestruck. ”this is… way, way too much. are you insane?”

he only shrugs. a sweet smile on his lips, sharp jaw resting on the heel of his palm. ”well, you wouldn’t give me any specifics,” he reminds you, a bit too smug for your liking. ”just eat what you like. i’ll keep your preferences in mind.”

you want to protest, want to put up a fight. want to resist his charms, his little peace offering.

but your stomach growls, suddenly. loud enough that you’re sure he hears it, but you don’t turn around to see any silent laughter — just picking up the fork, embarrassed, eager to just get rid of the ache in your gut. eager to get a taste of the delicacies in front of you. with hesitance, you cut into one of the fluffy pancakes, slathered with syrup, trying to ignore his expectant gaze. biting into it with your eyes closed.

when the sweet taste curls around your tongue, you physically feel yourself perk up. letting your eyes flutter open, your eyebrows raised, a sweetness that makes you sit up straighter. it practically melts in your mouth, honeyed and buttery, and it takes all your willpower to withhold a blissed out little sigh. 

it must be evident, on your features. because suguru sounds amused when he asks; ”good?”

”... better than usual, i guess.”

despite your half-assed attempt at hiding how pleased you are, his ever-present smile extends. ”oh, really?” he leans back in his chair, right next to the bed. exhaling in relief. ”i’m glad. i was worried my cooking wouldn’t be to your tastes.”

…

you pale.

silently, both awestruck and horrified, you look up to meet his teasing gaze. ”wait. you…” a pause. silent, palpable, dreading his answer. ”… made this?” 

”yes.”

another pause. 

”… like. all of it?”

”mhm.”

your gaze falls down to seek solace in your lap. avoiding his own, biting down on your lip, not quite enough to sting. fuck — you accidentally complimented his handmade breakfast. not off to a great start.

wallowing in your silent loss, you simply dig in; desperate to savour it, despite the lingering taste of failure on your tongue. once you’ve sipped the last of your coffee, foamy and rich, the knight to your right speaks up.

”so, your highness,” he begins. tactful, careful. clearing his throat. ”now that you’ve woken up a bit… and, forgive me if i’m overstepping, but —” he searches for your guarded gaze, playing with the beginnings of a smile. ”i was thinking it’d be good for us to get to know each other better.”

”ugh.”

a chuckle — seriously, does nothing offend this man? — flits past his lips. ”oh, don’t be like that, your highness. don’t you think it —”

”cut it out.” you shoot him a glare, voice set to a shivering tilt. ”stop acting like some perfect servant. it’s so obvious you’re playing it up.” a tiny huff, as you pop an apple slice into your mouth. ”makes me sick.”

”… right. you called my acting bad, before.”

”it is,” you nod, a mocking imitation on your tongue. eyes fluttering shut as you bring a hand to your chest. ”oooh, look at me, i’m so humble and loyal! why, of course i don’t mind being summoned with no prior notice! would you like me to lick your shoes, my sweet king?”

and, honestly, you expect him to get at least a little bit angry. the last guy certainly was.

but suguru laughs, suddenly, from the bottom of his gut — a genuine sound. sunshine spilling from his lips, amusement laced together with the octaves. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, like the leaves of a golden ginkgo tree. ”okay, okay,” he puts his hands up, as if readying for a smooth surrender. still amused. ”i’ll try to be more… unguarded, then. would that satisfy you?”

you give him a look. 

he returns it with a smile. ”i’ll take that as a yes,” is all he croons, reaching a hand out. it hangs still in the air, waiting patiently for a response. a familiar sight.

you blink. looking at it, silently, as if trying to solve a puzzle in the pattern of his fingertips. 

then you sigh. ”for the last time, i’m not letting you kiss my hand, you —”

”a handshake,” he cuts you off. soft, a tilt of his head; awfully charming. reassuring you. ”no kissing involved.”

a handshake.

(come to think of it, you don’t think anyone’s ever tried to shake your hand before. it’s something you see other people do; maids, knights, butlers. people on equal ground with each other.)

after a moment of silence, you avert your gaze. there’s a slight, slight flush to your cheeks, one you hope stays hidden from his keen eyes. you grumble, intent on not appeasing him. ”… i’m not shaking your hand, either.”

suguru quirks a brow, smile yet to fall, waiting a few moments more until he gives in. ”you are difficult,” he chuckles, and it sounds almost pleased. ”kento was right.”

kento? now, why does that sound familiar…? 

”— but that’s okay. i look forward to getting to know you better, either way.” his hand retreats to his lap, pliant. ”eventually.”

”that’s not happening.”

”oh?” you swear that smile of his grows, just a little. a man who enjoys a good challenge. humming, closing his eyes for a brief second, switching tactics as if shifting gears. ”then, tell me — is there anything you’d like to know about me?”

hell no, is what you want to say. and you almost, almost do. eager to move one step ahead of him, stubborn in your desire to scare him off.

but then you remember the tale.

so you still, ever so slightly, and suguru leans forward. by a hair, noticing your expression, maybe, the curiosity simmering in your veins. seeping out, little by little, and even though you know you shouldn’t — you just can’t resist the temptation to ask…

”… is it true?”

he tilts his head.

”the … you know.” you move your hands, a bit, as if hoping they’ll say the words for you. they don’t. ”your sword. did you really…” a pause, as your eager gaze trails down to his hip, the scabbard attached to his belt. and then a gulp. 

”… pull it out of a stone?”

a series of silent blinks. then suguru chuckles — dripping with fresh amusement, a glimmer of teeth behind his lips. ”oh, so you’ve heard?”

and, like a pair of shooting stars, your eyes flicker over to meet his. almost gleaming with newfound excitement, a little erratic. ”is — is it true?”

”it’s an old folktale,” he’s quick to intercept. ”gets said about basically every great knight… or, what the public deems as good, anyhow.”

(ah. the humble facade slipped away.)

in a matter of seconds, you seem to deflate, slumping back until your spine meets the headboard. sulking silently. ”so you didn't pull your sword out of a rock?” you huff, mood souring again, a lemony flavour in your veins. ”lame.”

”stone,” he corrects, unperturbed. ”and i'm afraid not.” he gives you another one of his placating smiles, barely concealed amusement swimming in his amber eyes. ”i pulled mine from an oak tree.”

…

”wait, really?”

the gleam in your eyes is back. suguru almost, almost feels bad.

”depends,” he quips, shooting you a lazy grin. ”how gullible are you, my lord?”

(... oh. he was teasing you.)

an embarrassed heat crawls up your neck, rooting itself into the column of your throat, and all you can do to distract him from it is to scoff. sharply, as if hoping just the sound will be enough to cut into his smooth skin. ”whatever.”

suguru continues to smile, crows’ feet by his eyes, something deliberate in his silent stare. so you stumble for something, anything to say.

”also, can you quit the my lord stuff?” you settle on, taking a shallow sip of the lemonade. sour and sweet, nice and chilled on your tongue. ”it’s creepy.”

he blinks. a flutter of his dark lashes, fingers tapping at his bended knee. he looks contemplative, for a moment. ”does it make you uncomfortable?” he asks, tilting his head. ”i can stick to my liege, if that’s better. just say the word.” 

”god, you’re so annoying,” you groan, licking the lemony residue off your lips. ”just use my name.”

suddenly, suguru stills. fingertips frozen, for a moment, no longer tapping at his thigh. he traps his bottom lip between his teeth, a hesitant hum crawling up the confines of his throat. 

”that….” he trails off, thumb absentmindedly smoothing over the leather of his scabbard. ”seems a little much.”

when you turn to look at him, he seems a little put off. uncomfortable, maybe — or just caught off guard? it’s hard to get a read on him. for someone who smiles so often, his emotions don’t appear very bright.

a pang of something grasps onto your clockwork heart, and a frown pulls at your bottom lip. frustration gnawing at your veins. ”you’re here to service me, aren’t you?” you ask, with a shallow huff. ”just do as i say.”

”well, i still have my boundaries.” suguru leans back, crossing his legs, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. ”and, on paper — i’m only here to protect you. the servicing is my own choice.” 

a very, very judgemental look. he returns it with a tug of his lips. 

”… you really do like being ordered around, don’t you?”

suguru shrugs. playful. ”makes me feel needed,” he purrs, watching you wolf down the breakfast he made.

once you’ve had your fill, he’s quick to gather the silver tray in his steady arms, and you do your very best to hold back from thanking him for the meal. it aches a little, but you can’t give in — you don’t have a choice. you can’t allow yourself to be anything other than the most ungrateful, annoying royal in the kingdom.

anything to snap his clockwork heart in half.

— a week passes with no particular developments. you try your damndest to bother him, but suguru is stubborn. stubborn enough that you’re starting to doubt he’ll ever leave you alone, no matter how much you ignore him, or hiss at him, or whine at him to make you an annoyingly specific assortment of breakfast foods.

he never stops smiling, no matter how bothersome you’re being. the tick-tock of his patience remains unbroken. 

(so for now, you figure you’ll just have to adjust.)

a sense of contentment simmers in the open air, when suguru knocks at your door, waiting for a groan and a grouchy come in. it takes you a few moments longer to respond than what he’s used to, and he notes that you sound a little less irritated when you do.

as he steps over the threshold, bowing his head instinctevely, he’s met with the sight of you fully immersed. holding a paintbrush between your fingers, lifting it, movements delicate, self-assured. like it comes to you without thinking. you’re seated right by the window, enough for the would-be daylight to flicker in. as it stands, the weather is still sour. 

he walks up to you, as always, never more than a few steps away.

and, for a moment, all he does is watch you. silently, as you dip your brush in smeary cobalt paint, a splatter of colour on the white canvas. melting together with the indigo and obsidian. there’s a certain rhythm to it, a kind of dance between you and your mind and the painting in front of you — not even close to being finished. a dip of your brush blooms into a jaw, a flick of your wrist into a set of fangs. cobalt cream and silvery edges, an imitation of what you saw in your sleep. murky, blurry, a dream-like clearing in the woods. 

as you work, a sense of relaxation smooths along your sinuses. coaxing you into breathing out, into letting your clenched jaw rest for a while. turning all your irritation into brushstrokes. into a hungry, hungry wolf. 

finally, your knight opts to break the silence.

”you’re quite talented.” 

it’s an earnest comment. filled with respect, not the idle flattery you’re so used to. and despite yourself, you can’t help but grin — glowing a little beneath the praise. prideful, smug, almost giddy. he watches intently as your expression shifts, as those fleeting flickers of joy dance along the contours of your cheekbones. as you lap up his praise like the chamomile tea he served you this morning.

suguru smiles. you have a cute side, he thinks. for no more than a mere moment, he finally feels as if he’s getting somewhere; getting closer to breaking that thorny, thorny shell of yours. closer to meeting the little lamb beneath the wolf’s hide.

but your mind quickly catches up to your body, realizing that your lips are curled up into a pleased smile, and you clench your jaw again. mindful not to let him see it. painting makes you far too careless, too unguarded; you have to be mean.

stuck in a bout of frustration, you put a little too much force into the motion of your fingers, a small slip of the hand. but that’s all it takes. suddenly, the smooth, calm sea of fur on the canvas turns violent, a little more unruly, and you withhold a wince. doing your best to mend the damage. flick, flick, across the canvas, as if to appease the hungry wolf. 

from behind you, a tiny exhale. laced with a kind of stifled amusement, one that makes you snap your jaw in his direction. brows knitted in anger.

”what?”

suguru clears his throat. ”nothing, my liege,” he hides a smile behind his knuckle. eyes gliding across the murky smear of fangs and fur, interest piqued. ”i’m just curious… why a wolf?”

a huff. briefly, you consider ignoring him, but….

(something in his tone convinces you not to.)

”… i saw one,” you admit, absently, staring at the blue and gray of the canvas. flick, flick. violet, navy, a little more depth. ”in my dream.”

silence. your knight doesn’t respond. surely, he must think you childish; everyone else does. why would he be the exception? why did you tell him anything at all? 

a sense of regret mixes with the paint. the weight of a brush in your hand truly does make you careless, doesn’t it?

”… huh.”

a clenching of teeth. you muster the will to turn your head, just to give him a questioning look, a silent aggression. biting before he can. but he’s not looking at you; he’s looking at the painting, the wolf that isn’t quite a wolf yet, just blue and gray on paper. a blur of messy motions.

then he shakes his head. ”no, nothing.” 

you quirk a brow. 

but you don’t say anything. falling silent, falling back into the rhythm of it all, painting until you grow bored of it. the wolf looks at you both, still thoroughly unfinished, jaw half-painted, no trees or knights to keep it company. solitary, blurry; baring its fangs towards no one at all. a sorry spectacle of teeth.

— a couple days later, as you’re walking through the castle with suguru in tow, still adamantly refusing to curl your fingers around his bicep, a loud crash breaks you out of your hushed banter.

the two of you share a look. it came from farther away, just beyond the next turn, a certain hallway decorated with delicate vases. one the castle maids desperately tried to keep you from, when you were younger, worried about your habit of jumping around while pretending to be some sort of feral animal. worried, of course, about the safety of the porcelain rather than the safety of the child.

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the source of the sound. and, lo and behold, what waits beyond the turn ahead is a crying boy and a broken vase.

fat tears cascade down his reddened cheeks, silent fear knit into the way his face is scrunched up. he can’t be older than six or seven; one of the maid’s children, you assume, the kind that doesn’t have the luxury of making mistakes. he looks panicked, down on his knees, holding a large piece of porcelain, painted flowers etched into the front.

what a mess.

when the clicking of your shoes reaches his little ears, he looks up at you with wide, shameful eyes. still sitting amongst the littered shards, the spilt water and irises soon to wilt. it reminds you of something, a memory you don’t quite want to recall; a different child, tiny and alone. taught to feel shame at the moment of their birth. 

it makes your pace falter, a bit, but suguru moves without hesitation. long, careful strides, one foot after the other. 

he crouches down in front of the boy, gentle as he takes the shattered piece of porcelain from his tiny palm. so he doesn’t hurt himself. ”hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, speaking even softer than usual, his voice like a flurry of feathers and jasmine petals. ”are you hurt?”

he’s patient. smiling comfortingly, considerate, grounding, a blanket of wool like the one forming on the border of the horizon. but the child continues to sniffle and hiccup, curling into a ball as if readying for a strike. like an abandoned puppy.

you sigh.

after a moment’s hesitation, you’re stepping forward, figure slipping from the shadows and coming into view. joining the miserable pair, the jagged shards on the marble floor. 

there’s a cold, cold look in your eyes when the boy raises his head to meet them.

a flick of your wrist; you wave your hand once, then twice. ”shoo. hurry up.” 

he blinks. tears clumping his lashes together, cheeks flushed from the panic of it all. he stammers when he parts his lips. ”b… but —”

”didn’t you hear me?” comes a scoff, harsh, cutting through the air. right through the fear and panic. ”that was an order. just run back to your mommy already.” you cross your arms, shaking your head in disapproval. mimicking the king, though you think it’s lost on your spectators. ”all that crying is making my head hurt, geez.”

a series of hesitant blinks. crumbling beneath your commanding gaze, the child stumbles to his feet, sparing suguru one last unsure little glance before scurrying off. the sigh that slips from your lips is quiet, barely audible, tinged with relief. 

when you look down to the floor, you find that suguru is already looking at you; a furrow to his brows. angry, for once. just a tiny, tiny flicker of distaste. you reward him with a cold smile. 

(so this is how you get under this skin. cruelty, aimed not towards him, but towards the defenseless. 

what a picture-perfect, self-destructive little knight.)

just as the child turns the corner ahead, you hear the echo of a maid calling out from behind you. her voice is dripping with fatigue, exasperation, a flurry of sighs you’ve grown far too familiar with.

”your highness! what have you done now?”

there it is, you think; the curtain call you’ve been waiting for. with a swift turn of your heel, sheepish expression ready to go, your focus shifts onto one sole objective — act annoying.

”walked into a vase,” you chirp, proudly, just the slightest bit theatrical. gesturing dismissively towards the broken spectacle, as suguru raises himself from the floor. ”my bad. not my fault you make them so easy to break, though.”

she inches closer, with a disapproving stare, and you hear a tick-tock in your ear. sensing the limit of her patience. ”i’ll have you know these vases are expensive,” she clicks her tongue. ”do you truly think you can go around breaking whatever you please?”

”… well. i mean… i do kind of own this place, don’t i? or — i will.” you tilt your head, faux contemplation on your features, shifting into a spoiled smile. ”so — technically — i broke my own vase. no harm done!”

”… my lord —”

”quiet.” suguru stiffens, ever so slightly, following your sharp whisper. ”don’t fuck this up.”

he looks at you, silently. not saying another word.

(there’s a shame in his eyes that you don’t turn your head to see.)

it doesn’t take long for the maid to shoo you away, pinching her brow at your carefree laughter, bitter at the prospect of cleaning up your mess. she makes sure to give suguru a sweet smile, though, and doesn’t bother to hide the sympathy in it. sympathy for him, such a handsome, well-behaved knight, forced to service such a brat.

the smile he gives her in return is a stiff one. almost, almost cold. but he bows, and follows your retreating form, until you’re all alone together.

the walk is silent. maybe just a little heavy, as you try to ignore the stare burning into your skin, trying to swallow your own displeasure. it’s subtle, something you learned to internalize long ago, but it’s there; a slight sadness. you don’t enjoy getting yelled at.

a thick silence stretches on, before crumbling into dust. you aren’t sure how much time has passed when a certain velvety voice curls around your senses.

”your highness.”

he’s come to a standstill, again. you really should just ignore him and keep walking. but you still, anyway, following his cue, turning towards him with a look that says what now? — you aren’t sure what to expect. certainly not the sentence that ends up spilling from his lips, like a spring breeze through an opened window, tinged with something you fear may be close to fondness. 

(in your chest, your heartbeat tick-tocks.)

he smiles, gentle, with eyes that see right through you. and he speaks. 

”you’re actually kind, aren’t you?”

…

”… huh?”

he pays no mind to your stupefied expression. continuing, unperturbed, eyeing you with a look you distinctly dislike — as if he’s trying to glimpse into your mind. ”the vase,” he hums. ���you took the blame, even though you didn’t do it.”

a huff escapes you. face hardening, setting into firm lines. ”that wasn't intentional,” you grumble, defensive. ”i just wanted him to leave.” 

but suguru shakes his head. ”you could’ve left when the maid came. but you stayed, and lied, and got yelled at so he wouldn’t have to.” a second passes, silence thick with meaning. intentional on his part. ”is that not what you’d call kind?”

another moment gone, little tick-tocks of your heartbeat counting down. you part your lips, but no sound comes out, as you stumble for words to say. irritation stirring in your veins. or is it nervosity? you think your skin feels a little hot, suddenly. 

just what the hell is happening?

”i’m… i’m not — ” you bite down on your lip. harshly. stammering, voice cracking a bit, to your great dismay. ”… not kind. i hate all of them.”

”but you protect them,” he whispers, ”look after them.” his smile doesn’t waver, never ever, but you’ve never seen it look quite this knowing. and suddenly, he’s closing in on you, gazing at you with laughter in his eyes. 

you try to stand your ground, wanting nothing more than to flee, curl into yourself, scratch at him until he leaves. but your throat feels so dry, all of a sudden, a sensation that only deepens with the next words he breathes into life. 

”a little sweetheart who pretends to be all big and bad…” he eyes you up and down, a meaningful look, raven locks moving as he tilts his head. towering over you. ”is that what you are?”

nothing. no smart reply comes to you. all you can muster is a harsh glare, a low hiss crawling up your throat, like you’re preparing to lunge at him. it serves as a warning, but the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fluctuate. ”you…”

he chuckles. raspy, breathy, a shiver down your spine. ”your acting is even worse than mine.”

”shut up,” you snap, baring your teeth. it comes out almost like a growl, hot and heavy in your veins, and you don’t understand where all this emotion came from. strangling you, bubbling up within your bobbing throat. ”you don’t — understand me, okay?”

no one does. 

and that’s fine. you don’t want them to. 

(you just want him to stop looking you so fondly.)

”not yet,” he admits, eyes fluttering shut. a thoughtful hum on the tip of his tongue. ”… but i think i’m beginning to.” 

he’s looking at you, again, amber and honey and raven lashes, lapping up every hint of a tell in the way you shift from foot to foot. speaking like he knows you, like he’s known you all his life. ”you act difficult — scare everyone away… but deep down, you love them, don’t you?”

a scoff. desperate. ”no.”

”you want to loved,” he continues, not allowing you to flee. relentless in his pursuit of whatever he imagines must be hidden inside your soul, beneath all those layers of frost. ”understood. everyone does.”

”not me.”

”your highness.”

…

the knight continues to look at you, and you avoid his gaze like it could burn you into cinders — like it could turn you into dust. but he parts his lips, anyway, and speaks. so sincere it makes your chest hurt. words that echo through the endless hallways of the castle, against the surfaces of glass that line the walls. words that make your skin flush under the shadows of rain soon to fall.

he smiles, wide, teeth showing. and he speaks. 

”that was very, very kind of you.”

silence. so thick you wonder if you’re about to faint, or fall to the floor, or something equally embarrassing. a sentence so simple shouldn’t be making you feel this way, this weird. you don’t understand why it makes you feel anything, anything at all, and you don’t understand why your eyes suddenly feel a little glassy.

(someone saw through the act.)

”… whatever,” you squeeze out, at last, but it sounds a little meek. a tiny puff of air. turning around, sharply, blinking rapidly to shoo the tears away. ”i just didn’t want to hear that brat whining. it was hurting my ears.” 

suguru bites back a coo.

as he watches your back retreat, hurrying back to the comfort of your room, he’s almost certain that he’s making progress. that your walls are beginning to crumble, slowly but surely, bit by bit. the path before him clears — a thorny, foggy path through the woods, until a sunsplatter falls on the ground and tells him where to plant his feet. 

it’s not much, barely anything, but suguru’s always liked his hunts blindsighted. 

you turn a corner, and he follows suit. sparing a passing glance at the clouds on the boundary of the horizon, the sole ray of sunlight breaking through. and then he’s catching up to you with long strides.

(it’s his duty, yes, but he doesn’t think he’d mind it so much — getting to know his kind, misunderstood little lord.)

sadly, disappointingly, to your great shame — you begin to grow used to suguru’s presence in your life. constant, always close behind, always ready to be of service. as infuriatingly patient as ever. it’s a stretch, but you may have become just the slightest bit fond of it. 

maybe, possibly, you’ve even silently decided to stop trying to scare him away. stop acting so difficult with him, all the time.

or, well — sometimes.

”take me outside, please?” you whine, bottom lip jutting out into a deep pout, accompanied by a flutter of your lashes. 

the voice that spills from your lips is hopelessly meek, pleading, so sweet you’d get cavities if you didn’t know how fake it was. effortless, perfected, your one god-given talent; an irresistible pair of puppy dog eyes. 

suguru answers with a smile, tight-lipped. ”no.”

a beat.

”aw, come on,” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet. frustration bubbles up inside your veins, trickling down to your wrist, nails digging into your palm. ”why not? you’re supposed to listen to my every command!”

”still no, sweetheart.”

a series of grumbles scratch at the base of your throat, but suguru pays them no mind. patient, patient, patient. he’s even kind enough to ignore the way you pointedly avoid his gaze after the term of endearment slips past his lips. ”sorry, but that part is non-negotiable. you know i don’t have a choice.”

you do know. but it still makes your mood sour, pulls a sigh from out of your lips. he moves closer, familiar silver tray in hand, dragging a chair to where you’re seated by the windowsill.

”i did bring you this, though,” he gestures towards a particular glass bowl, filled with red berries. they shine like rubies in the light. ”strawberries, like you asked for. wasn’t easy to get a hold of.”

he places the tray right next to you, smiling as he takes a seat. ”cheer up, hm? don’t be so grumpy.”

your pout remains, but you do settle down a bit. just the teeniest, tiniest bit. definitely not because he was kind enough to indulge your cravings.

”… thanks for breakfast.” 

suguru beams, and you avoid his gaze, like always. biting into one of the rubies, the soft murmur of thanks still burning your tongue, soothed by sweet nectar. he lets you flee, lets you continue on like nothing happened, like it isn’t obvious how much you’ve warmed up to his presence. 

”you’re welcome, my lord.”

…

(even after spending more than a month together, he still won’t call you by name. won’t even entertain the idea. why does that bother you so much?)

peacefully, your morning ritual continues. the same as always; you eat, while suguru watches, a sweet smile on his lips. the silence remains until he opts to break it.

today, he sounds a little hesitant.

”say, your highness…” he picks at a piece of lint on his cloak, absentminded. ”could i ask you for a favour?”

you almost drop your fork. gaze snapping up to meet his own, as a few silent seconds tick on by. tick-tock, tick-tock. then you clear your throat, regaining your composure. trying to sound nonchalant. 

”what is it?” you probe, cutting across the yolk on your fried egg. watching the orange seep out, trickling down, sinking into the crust of your toast. suguru hums. 

”a friend of mine — he’s also a knight…” he wrings his hands together, legs parted. tapping his heel on the floor. ”we’ve been sparring together for a while. once a week, at least. but ever since the king hired me, we haven’t been able to.”

you watch as his gaze flickers down to his lap, then up to you again. it’s smooth, charming, but you still think it seems a little out of place. he must not be used to asking for favours.

”i was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me? just down to the training fields by the castle.” his fingers tap against his bended knee, slow and methodical, from pointer to pinkie. ”the king gave us permission to spar there, but i’m obviously not allowed to let you out of my sight…”

you bite back a huff. obviously. he waits for a response that doesn’t come.

”… so?”

you meet his gaze, expectant. hopeful, maybe. it’s a nice touch — matches with the amber of his eyes.

”would that be alright with you?” he inquires, again. you think he sounds just a tiny bit unsure of himself.

a moment passes. silently, you look down at your lap. folded hands, itching to do something. something fun, new, exciting. 

your tongue forms around a wish. it spills into the air like a shooting star, a meek little whisper. ”… i wanna swing a sword.”

suguru blinks. once, then twice. ”you…” he tastes the words on his tongue, turning the image of you around in his head. ”want to swing a sword?

you nod. glancing at him, coughing a little under your breath. summoning just a bit of audacity, eyes trailing towards the sword by his hip. longingly. ”… i’ll only watch you spar if you let me try it.” 

a brief pause. he studies you intently, a mystery he’s yet to solve.

then he chuckles, light and airy, full of mirth. a sound you’ve grown fond of. ”well, okay. that’s fair.” he rises to his feet, smiling down at you. ”thank you, my lord.”

you don’t respond. but your eyes glitter with excitement, as you dutifully finish your breakfast, wolfing it down. waiting patiently for him to head down to the kitchen with the tray, for him to change into his training gear. 

when he knocks at your door, he’s wearing a flimsy little blouse. almost see-through, if you squint your eyes enough, exposing his bare skin. you think you see a scar curling up from his chest, reaching for his shoulder, just below it by a hair. and you can see his biceps, the fat, the muscle, practically begging to be bitten.

(tantalizing.)

he’s speaking to you, saying something, but you tune him out. focused on trying to restrain your growing urges. when he reaches up to fix his hair, tied up into a bun, the muscle of his arm twitches.

and, suddenly, you can’t contain yourself. 

giving in to the salivating temptation, you grab hold of his bicep, sinking your teeth into it — gentle, but enough that he feels it, enough to leave a set of teeth marks soon to fade. gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.

suguru blinks. pupils wide, quirking a silent brow, quick to smooth over the surprise in his eyes. 

you don’t move. teeth planted against the fabric, the firm muscle beneath it, surprising even yourself; his arm just looked so biteable. you wonder if he’s put off. upset.

but, as always, he’s eerily placating. like nothing you say or do could rock the ship of his patience, an endless sea. smooth, airy laughter flits past his lips, giving way to an indulgent smile. he studies you with fascination, like you’re a creature he hasn’t encountered before.

ever so gently, he grabs hold of your jaw — and the warmth of his touch shocks you into letting it go slack. before you can say anything, he’s rolling up his sleeve. exposing the tender skin.

”go wild, your highness,” he grins, offering his arm up like a lamb to a hungry fox. a teasing mirth in his eyes, his voice coming out as a low purr. ”i don't mind a mark or two.”

to your horror — it flusters you terribly.

you cough. taking a step back, averting your gaze, suddenly disinterested. feigning indifference, anyhow; that was definitely a scar. and a cool one, too. you think you might even have caught a glimpse of a birthmark or two. 

”i’m… just keeping you on your toes,” you stumble for an excuse, still unable to look at him properly. missing the way he stifles a bout of laughter. ”for your training, y’know? gotta stay on your guard.”

”of course. i appreciate the help,” he quips, fond, as he gestures for you to take the lead. ”he’s waiting for us. are you ready?”

for a second, just a second, you consider grabbing his arm. letting him guide you. but the thought is fleeting, like a bundle of peach blossoms, brushed away by the sunshine seeping in through the window’s glass — illuminating the marble flooring. 

a mellow excitement simmers in your bones. 

you head down to the training grounds with a pep in your step, and your loyal knight follows suit. just behind, always, wearing a smile you can’t see.

”suguru!”

the man that greets you with cheerful fervour, seated cross-legged under a peach tree, isn’t quite what you expected him to be. 

when you heard knight, you imagined someone a bit more… intimidating. but this guy is far from imposing. a little shorter than suguru, brown locks stopping right around his ears, exposing his sunkissed skin. freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones, a happy little grin curled right around his lips. 

he’s cute. a bit like a puppy. not very knightly, though.

”haibara,” suguru greets, a mellow warmth to his voice. the man in question shoots up from the ground, stumbling towards you both, excitement in his hazel eyes. suguru gestures towards you. ”this is the royal heir. the one who doesn’t like having their hand kissed.”

your head whips towards him, an angered flush to your cheeks — you’re almost sure that he’s smirking, giving you a teasing glance, but haibara’s exclamation prevents you from voicing any protests. 

”hi!” he beams, bowing deeply, so sudden that you jolt a bit. his head whips up instantly, brown locks stirred by the breeze, voice warm and smooth. like honeysuckle nectar. ”thank you so much for letting us spar, your highness! i’ve heard so much about you!”

”… um.” your gaze falls down to a pebble on the ground. unsure of how to act, murmuring under your breath. ”you — it’s… no need to thank me. i wanted to get some air, anyway.”

he continues to look at you, eyes shining with a pure kind of cheer. glittering, honeyed and sweet, too bright to look at directly. you hear suguru exhale amusedly to your left. he’s looking right at you when you glance towards him. 

his hand inches closer to his scabbard, fingertips trailing down the leather. ”should we get started?”

haibara brightens even further, if possible. ”oh, right!” he exclaims. ”you wanted to try swinging a sword, your highness? that’s so exciting! is this your first time?”

a blink. you aren’t really sure how to handle this guy; he’s a bit too sunny to be snarky to. like a fuzzy ball of sunshine given human form, bouncing on the balls of his feet, tail practically wagging behind him. all you can muster is a weak cough. ”uh, yeah.”

”well, you’re here to learn.” suguru speaks up. guiding you both towards the center of the field, hand still at the sword on his hip. ”let me show you.”

in one smooth motion, he’s pulling it out of its sheath, a stripe of silver absorbing the rays of the sun. glimmering, slicing the blue sky in half. 

you’re a little awestruck.

and then he’s facing you. leaning forward, with a familiar tilt of his head, offering the blade with a smile. ”do you want to try swinging it around a bit?”

barely containing your excitement, you nod. making grabby hands at it.

that makes him chuckle. he makes no move to stop you when your fingers curl around the hilt, only parting his lips for a quick warning, a split second too late. you take it into your arms. ”careful, it’s a bit —”

— the sword clatters to the ground with a thud.

silence.

haibara breaks out into laughter, sudden, fond and warm, but enough to have your cheeks burning. fresh with embarrassment, humiliation, before you even hear the breathy chuckle that slips from your knight’s lips.

”… i was gonna say it’s a bit heavy,” he hums, closed knuckle in front of his lips and obscuring his smile. ”i’m sorry, my lord. do you —”

”whatever.” a hiss escapes your throat, and suguru winces. he knows where this is going; knows a bundle of thorns just erupted from the stalk of your spine, knows you're about to get defensive. ”like i’d ever want to touch your dusty sword. get — get real.”

he tries again. patient, patient. the familiar tick-tock of his never-ending kindness. ”hey, we aren’t making fun of you,” he soothes, hoping it’ll make your edges soften. like scratching a feral dog behind its ear. ”it’s understandable. you weren’t expecting it. i’ll let you try again, hm?”

a tiny pause. 

(you’re being childish, again.)

brows furrowed, hanging your head, you kick at a pebble on the ground. having collected yourself a bit. ”… maybe next time,” you finally speak, still grumbling. after you’ve spent some time lifting weights in your room.

suguru tilts his head. speaking softly. ”you sure?”

”yeah.” taking a step back, you raise your head to meet his gaze. ”i’ll just watch you. it’s fine.”

”… okay,” he exhales. leaning forward to pick up his sword from the ground. ”i can spar with you next time, if you want. you’ll be a pro in no time.”

he gives you another sweet smile, bangs fluttering with the breeze; painted in cerulean sunshine. he’s so gorgeous it makes you angry.

a sharp huff. ”don’t patronize me,” is all you can mutter, meeting the eyes of the knight by his side. standing up straighter. ”haibara,” you call. ”knock him around a bit for me, okay?”

from the corner of your eye, suguru pouts.

but the puppy-knight only grins, as bright as the sun in the sky. ”you got it, your highness!” he salutes, cheeks flushing with giddy excitement. 

as you sit on the benches a little farther away, dragonflies buzz in the air. fleeting glimmers of chartreuse and cerulean, chirping happily, keeping you company as you watch the knights spar. the clangs of their blades, the elegance in the way suguru moves. a violent little waltz. he’s sweating, just a bit, but you can see it, droplets glittering in the sun. he looks like he’s having fun. 

he looks like himself. like he isn’t holding back, isn’t acting obedient or well-mannered for the sake of pleasing his superiors. like this, here and now, he looks wild, free, a dog that turns into a wolf under the glow of the sun. 

for a second, your eyes meet — just as he narrowly avoids a slash. 

and he smirks, ever so slightly, suddenly gaining a little more momentum. flashing a brief grin, sunlight reflecting off his white teeth. you huff. heat crawling up your neck. 

show off.

”excuse me, your highness?”

the sudden voice snaps you out of your stupor. mesmerized, by the spectacle before you, the glimmer of their blades and the sight of your knight’s smile. it’s an unfamiliar voice, close, close enough that your head turns to meet the stranger’s ugly grin — inching closer still.

(uh oh.)

— just up ahead, lost in their own worlds, are two knights; huffing and smirking and narrowly dodging each other’s strikes. suguru takes the lead, as always, guiding haibara into improving his swordsmanship. but they both learn from it. and it’s fun, lighthearted, a respite from their more gruesome duties. 

it’s helped suguru more times than he can count; those tiny flickers of normalcy, in a wholly unpredictable profession. a life of bowing and bowing and killing what needs to be killed.

slash, slash, and then two steps back. the same old dance. haibara’s starting to lose momentum, he notices, adam’s apple bobbing with his heavy breaths.

so suguru stills. ”alright, that’s enough for now,” he calls, stretching idly. craning his head, looking around him absently. he wonders if you’re still watching. ”i think i see what the problem is.”

haibara perks up, obeying without a word, wiping the sweat off his forehead and walking towards his friend with a sunny smile. ”okay, great!”

but suguru isn’t looking at him, anymore. 

he’s looking towards the benches, where his little lord is seated, speaking to an unfamiliar man. one who currently has his hand on their forearm, caressing it. you look guarded, irritated, a little like you’re about to bare your teeth. trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. and suguru recognizes that look — the one that means you’re about to start biting and hissing, inching your claws into whatever’s within reach.

(not to injure, but to ground yourself, he’s learned. like how you clutch onto the fabric of your clothing when you’re nervous, sink your nails into your palm. not to injure, but to feel safe.)

in the blink of an eye, he’s making his way towards you. beckoned by his duty, his natural instinct, a protective itch that curls around his ribcage and crawls up his throat. large strides, much swifter than usual. he moves without thinking, and he’s there before he has the time to form a coherent thought.

with as much gentleness as he can possibly muster, he grabs hold of the stranger’s arm. smiling, tight-lipped, cold. ”excuse me, sir,” he greets, ”i need to borrow them for a moment.”

the man meets his gaze with a sour look. bitter, ugly, oddly possessive — like he thinks he owns the arm he’s holding. it makes suguru want to teach him a lesson, show off his sword, but he resists the temptation in a way you never could. his expression is a warning, though, enough to scare most rowdy drunkards and snobby royals away.

and it works. the stranger looks to you, briefly, before finally letting go of your poor arm. something rigid in suguru’s jaw finally relaxes. ”who are you?” comes a question, as the man turns to face him with a look full of contempt. ”their knight?”

before suguru can say anything, you’ve hopped off the bench. clinging to him, with a firm nod; your arms around his bicep. ”yeah. he is.”

(suguru fails to stifle a smug smile.)

with a string of bitter mumbles and a silent frustration, the man scurries away. hesitant, only after being met with another warning glance from the knight in front of him. intimidating, far less subtle, towering above him like a predator over their prey.

as soon as he’s out of sight, your knight turns to you, scanning your face for signs of discomfort. loyal, attentive. ”are you okay?” he asks, a silent shame in his voice. if only he had noticed sooner. ”did he do anything to you?”

you shake your head. ”it’s fine. probably one of the king’s friends — stops by every now and then.” a sigh, a little fatigued, following your explanation. ”they’re mostly harmless. just creepy and touchy.”

”that doesn’t sound very harmless…” suguru lets you pull away, quick to hide the disappointment that flashes in his eyes as you do, waving haibara off with a silent gesture of give us a minute. ”don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye out, from now on.”

still a little guarded, you nod. letting suguru guide you by the small of your back, taking a seat on the solid bench once more. together, this time. 

”there are a lot of those types around the town square,” he exhales, weary, stretching out his limbs before leaning forward. elbows resting on his bended knees. ”they’re a pain to deal with. i’m sorry you have to.”

”are there?” you ask, tone laced with curiosity. ”in the town?” 

”well, i’m sure you’ve heard. that place is a bit of a mess, these days…” a click of his tongue. ”more work for the knights.”

a dragonfly settles on the bridge of his nose. suguru blinks, smiling gently, until it flutters away with a raspy squeak. fading away, melting into the blue paint of the sky. you bite down on your lip. 

”… i haven’t.”

he turns to look at you. raising a brow.

”i haven’t heard about it at all. the king told you, right?” you meet his eye with a rueful smile, before leaning back, nose turned up towards the sky. for a second, you think the air smells a bit of rain. ”i’m not allowed to go out into town.”

your knight falls silent.

so you continue. grinning, with no humour to it. maybe a bit eager to overshare, to break the silent rules you’ve been given. the secret tastes like honey on your tongue. ”i’m a bastard child. he probably told you that, too.” you wouldn’t be surprised. ”thinks it's optimal for everyone involved if i just stay cooped up in the castle.” 

closing your eyes, your voice drips with something close to longing. barely above a whisper. ”i haven't been to the town in a couple of years, now.”

…

he only hums. ”i see.”

(there’s sympathy, in his amber eyes, but you don’t turn around to see it. you don’t turn to look at him until he’s finished sparring, and haibara’s about to leave. 

you wonder if he’ll meet your gaze the same way as before.) 

— that evening, suguru knocks at your door right as you're about to fall asleep. three rapid knocks, the same as always, knuckle against wood. rousing you from your rest.

when you open it, he’s holding something out towards you.

”here,” he says, voice set to a mellow tilt. upon closer inspection, he’s holding a bottle. transparent, see-through, stuffed to the brim with sea glass. smooth little colourful pebbles, green and blue and pink and orange, like frozen little camellias. ”for you, my lord.”

blinking sluggishly, you take it into your arms; holding it up in front of your eyes. when the light of the moon flitting in through the curtains hits it just right, it blossoms with colour, sparkling with every shade you’ve ever seen. shining like a heap of jewels, in your hands, like something out of a picture-book. magical.

it’s mesmerizing. 

”i asked haibara to get it from the town,” he explains, drinking in your expression of awe. ”this one lady — she collects them herself. i see her by the beach nearly every time i go there.”

when you look up, his smile is serene. peaceful, if just a little bit tired. but he looks pleased, lips curling around silky syllables. ”i thought of you.”

it’s odd, you think. you aren’t a stranger to gifts; you get most of what you desire if you just say the word, an easy way for the king to keep you compliant. as if to make up for the plethora of experiences you’ve missed out on since your birth. and you’ve had more than a couple suitors, men and women, eager to gain your favour. 

but this — this particular gift…

…

”it’s pretty,” you murmur, finally, unable to voice even a sliver of the emotions clogging up your chest. shying away from his gaze, feeling your heart pulse against your ribcage. ”… i guess.”

suguru just smiles. always, always, always. no matter what you do. ”i’ll get you something else next time,” he promises, ready to go back to standing guard outside the castle. ”get some sleep, okay? be good.”

and you can’t bring yourself to protest. not even a tiny huff of don’t tell me what to do. you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod, soft and pliant, still gazing at the bottle of sea glass in your hands. like you might turn into one of those transparent pebbles, if you wish for it enough.

that night, you dream of waves crashing against sand, the taste of seafoam on your tongue. every colour in the world. a newfound, reawakened wish — a wish to see more of it.

”are you trying to sneak out again?”

owlishly, all you can do is blink. propped up on the windowsill, immersed in the process of tying pillowcases and bedsheets together to form a rope. caught in the act — by none other than suguru, standing by the threshold, hand on his hip, watching you with silent disapproval. you didn’t think he’d come check on you this late.

a gulp. ”… no?”

and he sighs. walking towards you, brows furrowed, running a hand through his raven locks. you can tell he’s trying to be a little more sympathetic, this time, but it only makes the bitter taste on your tongue thicken. 

”look — i know it’s not fair to you, but the king and queen specifically ordered me —”

”i get it,” you cut him off, with a hiss, a little harsher than you meant to. you soften your voice before continuing. "i know. okay? i know.”

resigned, but frustrated, you clench the silken material of the bedsheets. glaring at them like it’s somehow their fault that the queen couldn’t bear an heir, that your father has a knack for sleeping around. like it’s their fault that he’s so ashamed of your existence that he doesn’t want you integrating into society on anything other than his own terms, until he’s dead and gone and doesn’t have to take accountability anymore. 

like it’s their fault that it’ll always be like this, forever, that it’s better not to hope for more.

(why can’t you just accept that?)

the knight before you exhales. troubled, watching your nails dig into the fabric, watching the way you bite down on your lip and rapidly blink. all signs of your frustration, your sadness, that you always try so hard to hide. 

”hey. how about this?” he tries to get your attention, voice soothing enough to coax you into raising your gaze. ”i’ll tell you a story instead.”

he stifles a chuckle, at the dubious look you send his way, teetering on the edge of a glare. slithering towards you. ”i’ve seen a lot of places. i can tell you about them, if you’d like.” he takes a seat right next to you, on the windowsill, a slice of the moon in bare view. ”what do you want to know?”

you’re silent, for a second. gnawing at your bottom lip, in contemplation, the tiniest bit of nervosity. like you aren’t quite sure if you’re allowed to speak your wishes aloud.

”… the woods.”

suguru blinks. a little caught off guard. 

his silence makes you want to bare your fangs, a bit. misinterpreting it as judgement. your voice comes out cold. ”what?”

but he’s quick to smooth over his features with a smile, as always, cocking his head amusedly. ”sorry — i was expecting you to say the sea, or something,” he stifles a chuckle. “it's the woods that you're so curious about?”

you pout. ”… you can see them from here.”

his head turns towards the window’s glass, squinting his eyes to see the sea of dark green in the distance, a cluster of thick trees. he hums. ”yeah, you can. well… that particular spot isn’t too bad. not many bandits or beasts.” your gaze stays glued onto his lips, every word that spills from them. ”there are wolves, though. this side of the kingdom is crawling with them.”

”they sell their fur,” you state.

(that’s one thing you do know. you spent more of your childhood around wolf pelts than your own parents. they might as well be your legal guardians.)

suguru nods. ”they do. it's a big portion of the kingdom’s exports… general market, as well.”

a frown tugs at your lips. you think of your fluffy childhood guardians, unable to howl or even make a sound; hunters turned decorations.

”isn’t that… kinda fucked up?”

he smiles, revealing no emotion. ”do you think it is?”

you only shrug. ”i’m not surprised that they eat us.” you think of all the stories you’ve heard, the fairy tales you grew up with. ”… if i was a wolf, i’d hate humans too.”

”would you, now?” familiar amusement, seeping from his tongue, soft crows’ feet by his cedar eyes. ”good thing you aren’t a wolf, then. we’re lucky.”

”mhm. you’d be my first target.”

that makes him chuckle, a little deeper this time, and you drink in the glimpse you get of his teeth, the fondness that dances across his face when he looks at you. 

a sudden urge overtakes you. 

”… i wanna know about something else.”

”oh?” he tilts his head, soft locks framing his kind eyes. ”and what would that be, my dear?”

”you.”

… 

for a moment, the mask falls. a silent, subtle kind of surprise, something in the way the tips of his fingers twitch that tells you he’s caught off guard. it coaxes you into continuing, following through with your question. swallowing the embarrassment. ”i wanna know more about you. how you became a knight, and… stuff.”

suguru looks at you with a strange glint in his eyes. undecipherable, unspoken, just watching as moonrays glide across your soft skin. ruffling your hair. 

a hum buzzes in his throat. he scratches at the back of his neck, resisting the urge to dodge your question. clicking his tongue. ”… well.”

anticipation blooms in your eyes, and you cross your legs, waiting patiently to hear him speak. he can’t deny you, when you look at him like that — so suguru simply exhales. a breath of indulgence. 

”it’s not a very interesting story,” he leads, closing his eyes in remembrance. ”they scouted me when i was pretty young…. a bit of a troublemaker, honestly, but i got lucky." memories flash behind his eyelids, fresh bruises, sliced fruit. bittersweet. ”ended up around some powerful people. they liked me. knighthood felt like the right choice.” 

he meets your entranced gaze, speaking with sincerity, devotion dipped in honey and holy water. sinking deeper still. ”it’s my purpose in life,” he breathes, a flurry of whispers on his tongue. heavier than either of you know. ”truly.”

you cock your head. ”being a knight?”

”protecting the weak,” he says. recites. like he’s said it a million times before, in the face of beasts, in the reflection of broken mirrors, a mantra to live and die by. ”protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”

the look in his eyes frightens you. deeper than the deepest lake, dark and murky, dragging him down. a devotion that smells of iron, tastes like steel. mania disguised as loyalty.

(knights love duty. almost as much as they love dying for it. that’s what your father always says.)

”but, honestly — this kind of thing isn’t bad,” he breaks you out of your trance, grinning sheepishly, almost boyishly. ”it’s been a while since i had so much fun on the job… thank you for that.”

he’s looking at you, right at you, into your eyes, with an expression reserved for you and you alone. earnest, grateful, a sincerity he wouldn’t show anyone else. ”honestly.”

you can do nothing but avert your gaze. swiftly, meekly, feeling heat crawl up your neck, blooming across your cheeks like the branches of a plum tree. suguru grins, gulping down the slightest coo — but he can’t resist the urge to poke fun at you a bit.

”… you’re a shy one, aren’t you?” he searches for your gaze, chuckling when he doesn’t find it. when you don’t let him. ”can’t even look people in the eye if they’re being nice to you… how precious.”

”oh, shut up,” you groan, glaring out into the night sky. blinking slowly, drowsily, biting back a yawn that your attentive knight still manages to notice. 

(he looks a little enamored.)

”ah… is my sweet little lord getting sleepy?”

”no,” you scoff, far too quick. ”i’m… tired.”

”of course.” he reaches out, carefully, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. ”tired — not sleepy. that would be outrageous, wouldn’t it?” 

a yawn. ”it would.” 

low laughter bubbles up at the base of his throat, like seafoam, melting roses. deep and summery. ”alright. that’s enough stories for tonight, i think.” and with that, he gets up. ”let’s get you to bed, hm?”

rubbing your eyes, absently kicking your legs, you give him a slow nod of your head. making grabby hands at him that you’re sure you’ll be embarrassed about in the morning — but it feels easy, to be greedy, to know that your wants won’t be ignored when you’re with him. ”carry me, suguru.”

an indulgent smile. he doesn’t say anything, only curling his arms under your thighs, lifting you up and cradling you to his chest. you can feel his firm muscles, like this, trace them with your fingertips, hear the beating of his heart. tick-tock, tick-tock. a lullaby. a sense of safety, when you can’t tell where your heartbeat ends and his begins.

lost in that fuzzy, sleepy feeling, a blink away from falling into dreamland, fatigue washes over you — but you cling to his sleeve, even as he tucks you in, dragging the blanket up to cover you properly. 

”suguru,” you murmur, so quiet you doubt he hears it. ”will you tell me more stories tomorrow?”

”of course.” right before sleep coaxes you into its cradle, you feel the weight of his palm on your head; ruffling your hair. ”as many as you want, your highness.”

he smiles, as your eyes flutter shut, at the soft little breaths that flow from your lips. before he slips out, he blows out the candle on the nightstand, a silent prayer that your dreams will be kinder to you than his. 

— one week of nagging later, suguru’s resolve finally crumbles. it’s progress, at last, a tiny crack in his clockwork heart. 

but for once, it works in your favour.

”do you really want to see the outside world that badly?”

he’s got an arm locked around your waist, stopping you from one of your numerous escape attempts. you’ve gotten bolder, sneaking away the moment he takes his eyes off you, but suguru isn’t easy to fool — catching up to you just as you stepped outside the castle, now stuck in place under the portico. it’s to be expected, with that sixth sense of his, the one that seems to alert him as soon as you think the thought to get him in trouble. 

but you still can’t help but pout, huff and puff, pushing at his chest in a helpless attempt to break free. he’s sweet about it, gentle, but entirely unmoving. like a big, annoyingly handsome rock.

”what do you think?” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. ”no, of course not. this whole time, i’ve just been trying to escape for fun. like, as a bit. how could you tell?”

he rolls his eyes, and you break out into a grin. ”mind the sarcasm, please.” he barely resists the urge to pinch your side; letting you loose, instead, trusting you not to scurry away. he’d catch up to you instantly, anyhow. "i’m just saying, it might not be as interesting as you think —“

”what are you, stupid?”

”what did we say about letting people finish their sentences?” he raises a brow, stern, and you try not to cower. rolling your eyes instead. suguru just sighs. ”i understand why you want to leave. but you have a good life, here. better than most.”

”… i know that,” you grumble, biting down on your lip. a resignation in your eyes that your knight can't protect you from. ”i just —”

you sigh. 

”it’s just so suffocating.”

suguru falls into a contemplative silence. weighing his options, studying the flicker of emotions in your eyes, the tapping of your idle fingers. hands eager to fidget with something. 

moments pass, one at a time, a familiar lullaby of pitter patter ricocheting off the ground just outside your vision. the air smells of marigolds, burning wood, wet concrete. the beginnings of summer.

finally, he makes up his mind. 

”… okay, okay.”

when you look up from the ground, what awaits you is an outstretched hand. a familiar palm, and a familiar knight, with a familiar smile on his face. ”but don’t get used to it, alright?”

…

you part your lips, but no sound comes out. gaping like a fish out of water, hunting for the right words. suguru waits. patient.

”w — hold on,” you stutter, eyes blooming with hesitant hope, studying him intently for any signs of trickery. ”you mean — seriously? like, for real?”

he shrugs. ”it’s my duty to keep you happy.” devotion clings to his tongue, sweet indulgence. ”figure i can make an exception this once.”

another moment passes.

(there isn’t a hint of deceit in his features.)

a grin breaks out across your lips, like a joyous bolt of lighting, and you lunge into his chest — throwing your arms over his broad shoulders, jumping up and down, planting a wet kiss against his cheek. bubbly, giddy, heart racing with disbelief. you don’t even have it in you to be a little bratty. ”thank you, thank you, thank you!”

suguru makes a choked out noise, a little comical, breath hitching in the back of his throat. stabilizing you with a palm on the small of your back, patting it softly, once or twice, before retracting his arm and pulling away. clearing his throat. ”… you’re welcome.”

(his ears burn a cherry red.)

”but this is our little secret,” he reminds you, firmly, collecting himself. or trying to. ”got it?”

”yep.”

”if anyone asks, you —”

”yep, yep, understood.” you brush him off, still grinning brightly. ”don’t worry! i won’t tell a soul, i promise. swear on my mother’s grave!”

your knight exhales. worried, maybe, a little exasperated — mostly just trying to mask how infectious your joy is. how addicted he is to it, now that he’s seen it up close. he’s only caught glimpses in the midst of your painting sessions; to see it directed at him instead of the wolf on your canvas is a treasure he won’t soon forget. 

sneakily, stealthily, like a pair of bad dogs, the two of you begin your journey to the woods on the horizon. wearing cloaks, sticking together, until the sun begins to set and the sky drains of colour. 

and before you know it, it’s right there in front of you. a narrow path into the woods, a cluster of trees, a world you’ve always dreamed of. dark and gritty, beautiful, brimming with bugs and sights yet to be seen. creatures you could only ever see in picture books. a dreamlike world that takes shape before you, like paint splattered on a canvas, as you follow suguru’s lead — right behind him, clinging to the fabric of his cloak, excitement flooding your veins. heart thumping erratically in your chest. 

when you’ve made it to a tiny clearing, you stop in your tracks. suguru’s holding a lantern, a flicker of orange in the dark green world before you, attracting fuzzy moths. proud trees stand tall all around you, keeping guard, mushrooms and forget me nots scattered across the dewy patches of grass. keeping them company. 

everything smells of life, earth, oak wood and thinly veiled secrets. you want to live here forever.

suguru turns to look at you, noticing the way you’ve stilled. completely mesmerized, bewitched, eyes gleaming with childlike happiness. he tuts, doing a bad job at hiding how pleased he is. the sound makes you meet his eye.

”careful,” he croons, inching closer. fingertips ghosting over your wrist, right above your pulsepoint. ”could be wolves around. stay close.”

you tilt your head, feigning confusion. ”i’ve already got one right next to me, though?”

the comment earns you a flat expression, unimpressed, and it pulls a giggle from out your throat. the corners of suguru’s lips curl up, unwillingly, as he shakes his head; exhaling a tired breath. exasperated. 

then he hums. ”well, at least you're aware.”

suddenly, he’s walking forward, slipping away, cold air replacing the buzzing warmth of his skin on yours. hot blood, ever flowing, hidden within his veins — pumped out from his heavy heart. it’s there and then it’s gone. tick, tock, one step after the other, until he’s turning around to face you again. unfurling his outstretched hand, waiting for you to grab hold of it. 

his long hair sways with the breeze, smooth and unburdened, black like the night sky above you. a starry glint in his eyes. his voice comes out deep, a raspy lilt, like the scraping of metal against concrete. 

when he smiles, you think you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth.

”will you trust this wolf to keep you safe?”

under the web of shadows cast by the trees, barely illuminated by the shivering moon, all you can do is watch him. his gleaming eyes, the curl of a toothy grin on his lips. a knight, a wolf, a friend.

your protector. 

finally, finally, you grasp onto his offered hand. his fingers intertwine with your own, a puzzle finally solved, and his palm feels a little calloused. skin littered with tiny scars, years of training and killing, but it’s still somehow so soft. nice and smooth. 

he’s warm. and now he’s smiling at you, like you put all the gold of the world into his palm. 

”yeah,” you grin, a little cheeky. stepping closer, clinging to him without restraint, knowing he’ll indulge you. ”keep me safe, wolfie.”

his laughter rings out into the air like a cicada song, sweet and nostalgic. or a howl, maybe. it makes you want to gnaw at his bones; memorize his taste, so you’ll never quite be without him. it’s not your fault he looks so chewable when he’s smiling like that.

”i will,” he promises, vows, pledges, hand on his heavy heart. knights and their rituals. ”you don’t have to worry about a thing. not while i’m here.”

and you don’t. you know you don’t. because suguru is the greatest knight, the coolest wolf, and his clockwork heart never ceases to tick. it won’t break under pressure, no matter how much you push — so you don’t bother holding back. wrapping both arms around his bicep, cozying up to him, tugging at his cloak with a pep in your step. 

”c’mon, c’mon!" you beckon him forward. "i wanna see how everything looks up close.”

and he just lets you manhandle him, for a bit. following your lead. ”of course,” he croons. ”your wish is my command, your highness.”

the night stretches on, seemingly never-ending, like the branches of the oak tree you find in the heart of the woods. broken, beautiful, stretching out in all directions — as if wishing to engulf the world. a garden of forking paths, covered in jagged bark, but still somehow so warm to the touch. you’re sure there’s a heartbeat in there, somewhere. maybe a couple of swords too.

all good things must come to an end. but you refuse to leave the comfort of your mossy haven until suguru promises to bring you back, someday, maybe, if you play nice. it’s a deal that you’re willing to take.

only then do you begin your journey back towards the castle. having gotten your fill, for now, left to wallow in the newfound sights etched into your memory. still clinging to your knight like a child with their favorite doll, babbling into his ear about something or another. about how you’re almost sure you saw a wolf in the bushes, about how pretty the cicadas’ songs were. how you’re gonna convince him to take you there every single day.

the sun is yawning, stretching its endless limbs out, getting ready to rise and envelop the world. the sky is a calm blue, soon to be painted orange and pink, but you aren’t tired at all. you must sound a little incoherent, but suguru nods along to your every word. listening attentively.

so kind. so patient. sure, he’s a tease, and more than a little patronizing — but you don’t think you’ve ever liked anyone this much before. it’s weird. it’s fun. 

(you wonder if he feels the same.)

”hey, suguru?”

he keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead, but still spares you a brief glance, just to let you know you have his full attention. a second of hesitance is all your sleepy brain allows you, curiosity enveloping most of your functioning thoughts.

”would you… i mean. if i was, like… a different person —” you pause. suguru quirks a brow, and you suddenly feel a little flustered. ”um, what i mean is! like, if the king ordered you to be someone else’s knight… would you protect them like you do with me?”

he blinks. once, then twice, meeting your hopeful gaze. stifling a yawn, and parting his lips. 

”obviously.”

…

your face falls. lips dropping down into a soft pout, rich with disappointment, paired with a barely audible huff. suguru furrows his brows, playfully, smiling in the way he always does when he’s about to tease you.

”ah, my bad,” he croons. ”were you expecting something else? a… forbidden romance, perhaps?”

before you can begin to protest, warmth rushing to your cheeks, he stops walking. dropping down on one knee, dramatically, with a flutter of his cloak. theatrical. 

gently, he grabs hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips as his eyes flutter shut. you bite back a squeak. his voice comes out low, sultry, honeyed — so heavy with emotion that it’s obvious he’s faking it. ”the only person i yearn to protect is you, my liege,” his breath feels hot against your skin. ”i could never love another. i exist for you, and you alone.” 

suddenly, he’s smirking. you feel it against the knots of your knuckle, right before he cracks a single eye open. glimmering with deep amusement. ”… is that better?”

and you huff. sharply, doing all that you can to avoid getting flustered, his heavy gaze burning right into your own. it really, really doesn’t work. ”you’re so mean.”

”not mean,” he chuckles, rising to his feet. dusting off his cloak. ”i’m just… managing your expectations, my lord. they’d have my head on the chopping block if i so much as touched you without their consent — you know that.”

another little huff. ”i never said i wanted you to…” 

(you do, though.)

suguru hums. ”i’m your knight,” he reminds you, as always, until you get tired of hearing it. steadfast, irrefutable. ”that’s all. remember?”

something bitter settles on your tongue. 

but you nod. ”that’s right,” you hum. ”mine.”

a teasing mirth flickers through his eyes, like the first setting sunrays reflecting off cathedral glass. reverent, dyeing the world in all the colour it asks for. and he chuckles, raspy, amused. ”possessive little thing…”

that’s right, you remind yourself. he’s your knight. your lying, teasing, playwright of a knight. always wearing a mask, hiding behind a suit of armor, playing one role or another. only baring himself under the light of the sun, when no one is around to see. he’s infuriatingly patient, endlessly loyal, the greatest bootlicker you’ve encountered in your life. but he’s kind, too. maybe a little too kind. 

and he always, always kneels. 

such a large man, all toned muscle and tall stature, broad shoulders and a firm chest — kneeling at your feet. like a loyal dog. with a rustle of armor, a flutter of fabric, a sigh and a smile. as soon as you ask for it.

”c’mon. let’s hurry back,” you hear him say, biting back another yawn. ”before anyone finds out i kidnapped you. don’t want me to get in trouble, do you?”

”i kinda do.”

a silent look. unimpressed. it’s the most sincere expression he knows how to make, and also the most comical. ”careful,” he looks ahead, hiding his amused smile. ”wolves eat bratty heirs, you know? better stay on my good side, your highness.”

a bout of sleepy giggles. you curl an arm around his bicep, putting your weight onto him, but he doesn’t stumble. ”sorry, mr wolf! please, by all means, eat my dear father instead.”

”don’t be disrespectful.”

”sorry,” you quip, entirely unapologetic. ”i forgot you had a crush on him. that’s my ba — ow!”

suguru brushes by you, walking forward, hiding his growing grin. leaving you with an ache in your hip and two wide eyes. 

”hurry up, my lord. we don’t have all day.”

”wha — you pinched me!” you stumble after him, barely containing your quiet delight. ”they’ll have your head for this, you know!”

silent laughter. you don’t need to hear it to know that it’s there, just ahead of you, tucked into crows’ feet and a curl of his lips.

suguru always kneels.

but, sometimes, he talks to you as if you’re equals. sometimes he takes the lead, pinches your hip, tells you off a little. teasing, patient, but there’s an edge to him that he doesn’t always hide. sometimes, he lets you see it, and you figure that must make you at least a little bit special.

sometimes, he feels like your best friend.

careless, careless, careless.

how could he ever be so careless?

everything blurs into a puddle of red. murky, sticky, everywhere all at once. all he sees is red, all he feels is burning. his heartbeat pulses at the base of his throat, bottom lip bruised and aching from hours of sinking his teeth into the flesh, over and over — every single nerve of his body running on adrenaline and nothing else.

(adrenaline and fear, maybe, but they’ve always been synonymous. never one without the other.)

the slaughter is mindless. suguru knows that’s how they like it, anyhow — knights aren’t supposed to think. they don’t need to. 

suguru certainly isn’t. cutting his way through the bandit’s den, practically growling, sword painted such a dark shade of red that he doubts he’ll ever be able to wipe it clean. harsh slashes, pure instinct, wildfire inside his veins, iron on his tongue. 

suguru isn’t thinking, he’s hunting. sniffing like a bloodhound. eyes scanning the area before him like a hungry beast.

suguru is hunting — for you.

and when he sees you, at last, tied up and barely conscious, he’s almost certain he’s going to grow claws, fangs, matted fur. that he’s going to turn into a beast beneath the fading moonlight.

but he falls to his knees, instead, like a wounded dog. throwing his burganet off, with a clatter, crawling closer. heaving breaths, untying you with shaky hands, greedy fingertips hunting for a pulsepoint —

and only when he finds it does he allow himself the luxury of breathing again.

when you come to, veins dragged down by a fuzzy sensation, your vision is blurred. foggy, dull colours on the canvas of your mind, gradually washed away as you struggle for control. you stir, and finally see the figure above you. 

what you see is a knight, a wolf, a beast beneath the moonlight. a kind, kind man.

suguru.

bloodied armor. sweaty, messy hair, sticking to his forehead. pure panic in his bloodshot eyes. he cradles your face, cold metal on your cheek, dirty and smelling of iron. he moves his mouth; you delude yourself into thinking that his bottom lip is trembling. forming around familiar vowels.

he’s saying your name.

there must be something wrong with you, you belatedly realize. the last one to do so. because you’re hurt, scared, but you still feel a skip of your heartbeat. 

(he finally said it.)

you muster all the strength at your disposal, eyelids fluttering. and you try to answer, you do, reaching for that thread between your brain and your tongue — but it comes out as a garbled little thing, more air than noise. 

it’s enough. the tense crease between his brows melts away, and he sighs.

”oh, thank the heavens.”

another sensation. he’s touching your hand, now, cold metal on warm skin, bringing it up to his lips; a shaky little exhale brushing against the knots of your knuckle. his lips are chapped. 

then he’s scooping you up, cradling you close, as close as metaphysically possible, as if willing to cut his stomach open to fit you inside. a firm grip, comforting, stable. desperate, a mother wolf carrying her cub to safety, by the skin of her teeth. his hair tickles your skin, but you don’t mind.

only when he brings you back to the castle does everything fall into place. he explains everything, as you sit in bed, still recovering. a sudden attack, from within the castle, a kidnapping. some enemies of the king, a scandal to do with you and your blood. something, something, something. you’ve grown used to not understanding why you keep getting hurt. 

and you’re too distracted by the sullen face of the knight in front of you to pay attention.

suguru wasn’t there to stop it — wasn’t there to save you, be your knight in dashing armor. the king had invited him to a game of chess, and you had been adamant in your refusal to join them.

so you don’t understand why he’s apologizing.

he’s smiling, but it’s weak, as flimsy as a piece of paper. his lying smile, tight-lipped, betrayed by the redness of his eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. dark crescents. he sits by your bedside and looks a little like he wants to curl into a ball. 

”i’m sorry.”

and ah, you think; there it is. guilt. always, always clinging to him, a ghost haunting him wherever he goes. it’s been there since the beginning, in the scar reaching for his shoulder, the nature of his never-fading smile. guilt, guilt, guilt. you wonder if he's ever gone without it. you wonder if knights begin to crumble when they stop feeling ashamed. 

he looks sad.

with a breathless inhale, you part your lips. you want to tell him that he has nothing to apologize for, that you’re fine now — that you could never be mad at him. not really, never truly, never at him. you want to tell him that he’s your favorite person, not just your favorite knight, that he’s allowed to make mistakes without demanding that he suffer for them. 

you want to tell him that it’s okay, really. seriously.

but all that leaves your lips is a meek little sniffle. as the shock of it all finally settles, sinking deep into your bones, the fear of being captured, the dull ache of your skull meeting the ground. you can’t tell him any of the things you want to, and you feel so awful — 

because suguru’s face falls. like you just thrusted a knife into his sternum and twisted it. he looks like he could cry, too.

”i’m sorry,” his voice cracks, right down the middle. like a broken vase. ”i’m so sorry.” it’s not at all what you want to hear, but you can’t tell him that either. he’s bundling you up before you know it, dragging you into the comfort of his chest, one large palm on the back of your head; tugging you closer still. he smells of soap and oak wood and peach blossoms. ”it was scary, wasn’t it?”

and you nod. into his neck, wet tears brushing against his skin. not stable enough to act tough. you don’t think he is, either.

suguru exhales, shaky, clutching you like he could lose you if he lets go. lose himself. he knows you’re scared, but you let him soothe you. 

it means something, he thinks. it means something that you let him come so close, closer than anyone’s ever been. so he swallows the guilt until it’s no longer clogging up the back of his throat, if only so his voice can flow out through the gap, give you the comfort you need. just rubbing your back until you calm down, apologizing silently — over and over again. manic, like the tick-tock of a clock.

until your voice breaks him out of it.

”it’s not your fault.”

he stiffens. still holding you, feeling your heartbeat settle down, hearing your voice break out of your throat. it comes out as a weak croak, with just the slightest hint of disapproval.

he gulps.

”don’t worry about me, right now,” he hushes you. a silent plea. ”i’m not the one who’s injured.”

”suguru —” you sigh, almost a hiss. ”i hit my head. once. that’s all.” you wipe away the wetness of your cheeks, biting back a sniffle. ”… you’re acting like i’m fucking dying. cut it out.”

(for once, he’s relieved to hear that sharp edge of your voice. it means you’re feeling better.)

a weak inhale. ”… they kidnapped you. it must’ve been terrifying. please, just…” and a tired exhale. ”please just don’t strain yourself.”

”it wasn’t your fault.”

…

”your highne —”

”i’m serious.” you’re pulling away, suddenly, clasping onto his cheeks with your tearstained palms. squishing his face together. ”it wasn’t your fault. it was mine.”

he shakes his head, eager to protest, so you squish his cheeks with more force, and shake his head for him. like a misbehaving dog. ”nope. if you even think about apologizing, i’ll start crying again.”

he lets out a huff. frowning, sadly, a downcast pair of eyes.

”don’t pout. i’ll bite you.”

it’s slight, barely even there at all — but you think the corner of his mouth twitches upwards, just by a hair, exhaling through his nose with just the slightest hint of amusement.

he places his palm over yours. 

a moment passes, slow and steady, both of you catching your breaths. calming down, letting the fear of it all seep out of your aching bones. you hope the warmth of your skin against his soothes him as much as it soothes you. 

”… you know, your highness,” he murmurs, softly. meeting your puffy eyes with his tired pools of amber gold. ”there’s something i never told you.”

you blink. he continues.

”just the night before the king reached out to me… i had a dream.” he musters a weak, exhausted little smile. ”dreams… i don’t have them very often. and when i do, they’re nothing good. but this dream…” 

his eyes flutter shut. a curtain closing, a raven taking flight, the tick-tock of a heartbeat. you can’t look away. ”it stuck out to me.”

silence.

your voice comes out soft, like the bedsheets beneath you, the man before you. a tiny breath of a question. ”… what was it about?”

he smiles. smoothing a thumb over your knuckle, reverent, as if memorizing every ridge and dip.

”a fox.”

…

”it had…” his hand slips from the small of your back, reaching for your cheek, pinching it gently. ”a cheeky smile.”

your skin heats up, beneath his touch. and you blink, not saying a word, because there isn’t any need to. all the words you could ever want have already been painted out.

(well, maybe not quite all.)

”suguru.” you lean close, just a little, drinking him in. and he listens, as always, so you don’t bother beating around the bush. swallowing any embarrassment your tired mind can still feel. because your knight is right in front of you, eyes still red from crying, and you want him to be happy. “i think you’re my favorite person.”

he stills.

then he burns up. 

”wha — where did that come from?” he stammers, a strawberry hue to his ears, his neck, the tips of his fingers. enveloping him like a blanket of warmth.

you only shrug. ”you told me the truth. figured i should return the favour, for once.” a giddy, exhausted smile. “we’re both awful liars, huh?”

suguru opens his mouth. then he closes it, again, desperate to collect himself. you think he must be a little too exhausted to, and you wish you could say you felt bad. ”you… you can’t just —”

he squeezes his eyes shut. sighing. giving up, the gears of his mind grinding to a halt. your grin blooms wider.

”hehe.” you poke at his flushed cheek, and he cracks a single eye open. ”you’re blushing.”

he huffs, leaning away from your touch, and you find yourself enjoying the reversal of your usual roles. very much so. he tries to smile, tries to get one up on you, but he only blushes a deeper shade of red once your words reach his ears. 

so he settles for using cheap tricks.

”you’re hallucinating,” he scoffs, shoving your head into the fluffy pillows all around you. ever so gently, listening to your muffled giggles. trying to stifle his own joy. ”go back to sleep.”

”my blushy knight,” you coo, and he drags the blanket over your head. biting down on his lip to stop himself from joining your bubbly laughter, blushing more than ever. 

(the word knight sounds very pretty, when it’s falling from your lips.)

”i swear,” he exhales, heavy and exasperated, but you can hear the smile in his voice. ”just what am i to do with you?”

it’s fond. delicate, even in his bouts of teasing, the light instances of manhandling. and you’re happy, because he’s not apologizing anymore, and he’s happy because you aren’t crying anymore. give and take. there’s a rhythm to it, a point where everything else becomes background noise, whether it’s memories of a kidnapping or a decade-old guilt.

he stays with you all night, even after you’ve fallen asleep. just watching you, safeguarding you, checking your pulse every now and then. content to watch as your chest rises and falls, with the tender ticking of your heartbeat.

that night, you dream of a kind, kind wolf, and a painting yet to be finished. 

before you lies a field of stars.

you’re seated on a blanket, with a pretty knight to your left, up on top of a grassy hill. daffodils bloom around you, sweet nectar hanging in the air, a field of sunflowers waving at you from below. dragonflies greet you with a scratchy song. 

everything is perfect. a midnight rendezvous, a picnic under the stars — suguru’s own idea. to celebrate the time that you’ve spent together.

(well, that part was your idea. but you’re sure he appreciates it, too.)

the basket next to you is filled with fruit and berries, marmalade and jam, bottles of herbal tea. suguru’s delicious sandwiches. you bite into one of them, humming happily, and he’s quick to brush the occasional crumb from the corner of your lip, ghosting over your skin with a smile.

there’s another basket, too, just in front of you, that you brought on your own. hiding a secret; one you're just about to unveil. 

you clear your throat to get his attention.

like clockwork, he’s looking at you. listening, when  you tell him to close his eyes, only giving you a questioning raise of his brow and an amused exhale. 

you’re quick to lean forward, uncovering the basket, revealing the secret you’ve hidden so well. suguru is still waiting, indulgent, patient. you feel a little hesitant, but still part your lips.

“… okay. you can open them, now.”

he does. instantly, two ravens taking flight, and the sight that awaits them is that of a painting; a painting of a wolf, in the middle of the woods, empty armors and wilted sunflowers all around it. dragonflies and dragonflies, a knight just out of view.

he stares, silently, and you do your best to hide your growing nervosity. even as he takes it into his lap, and your gaze falls to the blanket below you. ”it’s… not my best work, but —” his eyes stay glued onto the painting, as you stumble blindly for the right words to say. wringing your hands together, clutching at the fabric of your sleeves. ”i’d… like you to have it. i mean, unless you —”

”thank you.”

you raise your head.

suguru is gazing at the canvas with the softest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. melting amber, crinkled at the edges, accompanied by a sweet grin. 

”i’ll treasure it,” he vows, meeting your eyes, voice dripping with warmth. hand on his heart, and you can’t even poke fun at it. ”always.”

his earnest acceptance is enough to fluster you, enough to make you feel as it your heart is about to collapse, but he continues to look at the painting with enough awe to fill an empty lake with water, and it makes you terribly shy. 

until his smile drops.

”uh, actually — i…”

now it’s your turn to stare, silently, as he fumbles with something in the basket at his feet. gentle, as he takes out glass jars and wrapped sandwiches. out comes a sheet of paper. 

then he’s clearing his throat. handing it to you, pointedly avoiding your gaze. ”i’m not an artist, so you know. i just…” he coughs, a little out of his element. “well. here.”

with delicate hands, you accept it, bringing it down to your lap. big, curious eyes taking it in.

it’s a sketch — made with coal, a little smudged, but awfully charming. pretty, delicate.

it’s a sketch of a fox.

wide-eyed, all you can do is stare. gaze flitting up to meet his own, his nervous expression, before falling back to the little canine. ”you — this…” back and forth, over and over again. ”for — ?” 

you point to yourself. 

suguru only chuckles. ”yes, it’s for you. who else?” he taps the pads of his fingers against the handle of the basket, watching you silently admire the mischievous fox. not saying anything; so he continues.

”like i said; i’m not an artist. you can always throw it away, if you’d —”

”i’m gonna frame it.”

…

”i'm gonna frame it,” you repeat, eyes shining with sincerity. a little manic. ”i’ll hang it on the wall of the castle hallway so everyone can see it. it’ll be there for centuries to come, passed down —”

”please don't —”

”d’you think a gold frame would fuck up the vibe? maybe a modest silver is best.” you turn to face him, ignoring his blatant embarrassment. ”oooh, hang on! father knows this guy who makes them with real minerals. i’ll just —”

”your highness,” the knight cuts you off, almost with a squeak. ”please. it’s just a dumb drawing. i just… wanted to give it to you. that’s all.”

a pause. you look into his eyes, flickering with hesitance, an earnest desire for your approval only. so you hum, albeit a little hesitant.

”… alright. if you say so. i’ll hang it in my room, then.”

he sighs; relieved. ”that’s better. really, you —”

”thank you.” you whisper, blinking away the wetness at your lash-line. staring at the sketch with a dreamy, dreamy smile. ”i love it.”

you grin, happily, practically beaming. suguru wants to keep it there, always, on those pretty lips; he wants to lay his life on the line to protect it. but something tells him that would just make it fall. 

finally, everything clicks into place. the air fills with the scent of herbal tea, fresh strawberries, acrylic paint and hushed whispers. your own ritual, repeated over and over, like a loving waltz. 

as always, it’s suguru who breaks the silence. shatters it with the tip of his tongue. 

”hey,” he calls, softly. “my lord.”

mouth full of bread, you simply look at him. chewing silently, attention piqued. swallowing with a gulp. he places his folded hands on his lap, exhaling a little breath. ”… i’ve been thinking.”

”uh oh.”

silently, he gives you one of those flat, unimpressed looks of his, and you quiet down with a grin and another mouthful of bread. he quirks a brow, exhaling amusedly, then shakes his head and continues.

”i retract my earlier statement.”

when you glance up again, he’s smiling. showing more teeth than usual, a little wider, a little wolfish. a little more himself. you want to paint it, keep it hidden away somewhere only you can see.

”if it was someone else — anyone else…” he trails off, tasting the words on his tongue. “i doubt i’d feel this way. i doubt i’d want to protect them as fervently.” his voice flows out like a river of gold, just a little scratchy. it always is, when it sounds this sincere. 

he meets your eyes, and everything falls into place. 

”you’ve become precious to me,” he admits. ”i can't remember what it felt like to not be yours.”

his tongue curls around a familiar set of syllables, and your name seeps from his lips like a prayer, a vow, a trickle of honey and wine. devotion sticks to his tongue, to the vowels, a heavy fondness — something devout. something you've only ever heard from the mouths of priests.

and then he’s smiling. 

”i think i’ll be your knight until the day i die,” he breathes, and deep down you know it’s a vow. “even if the king discards me of that title.”

silence. except for an increasingly loud mantra of tick-tocks, from the depths of your own chest, echoing in your ears. your knight is in front of you, and he’s yours, and he’s smiling like he loves you. like he always will.

”… suguru.”

he hums, eyes lidded, blinking slowly. serenely. he lets you cling to him, pull him close, practically dragging him into your lap.

”stay with me,” you plead, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. too desperate to feel embarrassed. ”forever. promise me.”

an exhale, right by your ear. it sounds so fond you could cry. 

“i promise,” he whispers, fingers intertwining with your own. a perfect puzzle piece, a functional clockwork. lifting your hand, bringing his glossy lips to your knuckle; where they belong. ”until death tears me away from you.”

”it won’t,” you deadpan, partly to distract him from the growing heat of your fingertips. mostly because it’s true. ”you won't let it.”

he smiles against your knuckle, breathing out an airy laugh. ”clever little thing…” his free hand goes to rest on your spine, as always, and you lean back to see him properly. knowing he’ll catch you if you fall.

“.. but yeah," he sighs. "i won’t.”

before you know it, you’re leaning back in. because his eyes are the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen, and his hair is just a little tousled, and he looks so kissable it aches.

his jaw trembles, a little, when you press your lips against the curve of it. his whole body seems to still, for a moment, and you pull back just to see if he’s blushing. he is. 

but he must have anticipated your teasing, because he’s tucking you under his chin before you can see it through. pressing you close. and he tuts, a click of his silver tongue. ”… you little tease,” comes a whisper. ”how am i supposed to hold back now?”

”don’t hold back, dummy,” you grin, muffled against the column of his throat. you just barely resist the urge to sink your teeth into the skin. ”you’re a bad actor, anyway. the worst.”

and he is. he’s been looking at your lips this whole time — he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.

suguru laughs, breathy, overflowing with fondness. chest rumbling with the noise, blending together with the rhythmic thumping of his clockwork heart. ”okay,” comes a soft lull of his tongue. ”i won’t, then.”

a drowsy feeling overtakes you, just as you feel his lips meet the crown of your head. it’s not much, but it’s a start. and it’s tender, tender enough to get you choked up, to get you to close your eyes to stop any tears from forming. because one person in this kingdom understands you, and he tells you that he’ll never leave. and you think you can actually find it in you to believe him. 

one person’s clockwork heart never breaks for you, and maybe that’s enough to convince you to stop trying to push it there.

”you can sleep, if you’d like,” is whispered against your hair. soft, soothing, his palm on your spine. ”i’ve got you. always.”

(one person in this world can make you feel safe, with just four little words. and isn’t that something?)

so you doze off, on the shoulder of your very own knight. your favorite knight, always and forever, a sword at his hip that was forged to protect you. or so he’ll tell you, years from now, when he’s got you in his lap, when there isn’t any need for him to act anymore.

and you dream a perfect dream. a dream of a wolf, and a fox, and a garden of stars.

[loyalestmunch]

11.19.23

actually the loneliest ive ever felt. i dont have a best friend. the two friends that i do have both have boyfriends n are preoccupied with them. im always in my room. im always in my four walls. i dont have a life outside of here. and i hate it so much.

i dont have someone i can spontaneously visit whenever i want anymore. i dont have a safe person that will always make time for me. if im sad, i dont have someone to go to. and it fuckiing sucks.

what sucks even more is when i sleep until 5 pm and check my phone to zero notifications. ts makes me go right the fuck back to sleep

i made an editing acc on tt. its cool its got like 70 smth followers so far. i really fucking hope i can make friends on there. but like. everyone in the editing community is like. 15 or 16. it just sux i used to edit at those ages too but now here i am at 18 (almost 19!) crawling back to the editing community to maybe find even a small glimpse of the happiness it gave me when i was younger. but nothing beat the feeling of dreaming of an edit in ur head all day.... waiting till school got out... running (literally) home to whip ts up on video star before i forgot it and then uploaded it and shared it amongst my little editing friends. and then i'd stay up late until 2 am or so watching and saving other edits i thought were cool. even in quarantine, i found joy in editing. november 2020 was actually the worst year of my life but also the best i miss it so much i miss the plethora of friends i used to have fuck. i miss playing identity v otp all night long with ray, i miss playing genshin in vc and doing stupid shit and farming for artifacts for hours on end with jazzy and tason and ray and gabby. my poor ipad wld overheat and my fingerprints would burn from dragging them across the hot screen but i didnt care . it was fun.

edit im not done i have more things i want to reminisce about .

ive been rewatching rick and morty and keeping up with the new seasons in the same sense that i watched it in middle school and now im crawling back to see if it brings me the same joy. and it does !. for the most part. but since justin got fired rip there's new voice actors. and it's fine honestly i dont care that much im still gna watch it but i hate how everythings changing. 13 year old me cldnt begin to fathom rick and morty losing (one of its) most renowned creator(s). like fuck. he voiced RICK AND MORTY. BOTH. like holy fuck. but its fine i guess the writings still kinda the same and the show is funny and makes me happy. i wish i had someone i cld take with me everywhere like my own little morty . i need friends.

i also miss the essence of boxed fettuchine(???) alfredo while watching r/m or camp camp at gammys house. ts was fire

i miss the roblox theme park tycoon and the chocolate cake we made that day and ate. it was so good.

i miss the lego game my cousin and i wld play. we didnt even do anything my mind just couldnt believe an open map game i haad so much fun just walking around and looking and doing absolutely nothing. and eating reheated pizzahut. and mcdonalds cookies. and funfetti boxed cake.

i miss when i had my phone taken when mom and i stayed at gammys when parents almst got divorced and i used her old iphone 5 she forgot she gave me and i had my little fandom acc on insta with my little mooties and friends and the warmth of gammys house in november fuck i miss it all i miss growing up so much i hate being an adult. i cant fucking have fun sober i dont have friends im alone nearly every single day i dont have friends in college i dont ta\lk to anyone i fucking just show up and leave without removing my earbuds.

and i know its my fsult. i know im the reason why i dont have friends. im the only reason why im like this. i only do it to myself.

im so alone and i just keep fucking regressing to find happiness because there's none here in present day thats for sure !

[snapshots-of-the-young-egotist]

Big events transpire from the decisions that follow the most minute moments .. (minute being an adjective here, rather than a noun) minute equating to small- so the smallest, but also quickest trains of thought take course as we follow their lead. I met the most random stranger today, and upon meeting, our interactions didn't  feel very strange at all. The take away from this meeting was a lot to take in. To describe it, from beginning to end, would be to say there was a fork in the road for me. Nobody ever talks about this, but now that I've come to speak of my own fork in the road, my fork in the road contains 3 different directions. . 3 different routes before me. Typically, when people make mention of " the fork in the road" they intend it to refer to two choices they are considering. Or have had to choose. In my case, it was nothing heavy. It was literally a choice of direction. . Which way to go? While I'm often keen to go in a certain direction, sometimes I feel more comfortable going another direction. . The background here is there are 3 directions before me. In this case, each path leads to the same thing. . The only catch is that to get to your destination, (that will ultimately be the same destination, regardless of the path taken) you must make a choice! I had to decide where to go, but also kind of quickly. I somehow made eye contact with this guy and he smile at me and for some reason that was the deciding factor for me to not go in that direction. Specifically because he smiled at me. "Not going that way." That was my initial thought. . But in like, nano-seconds, I walked by him and sat down on the bench. I sat right next to the very guy I saw, and quickly dismissed. Even made a mental note not to sit next to him! Yet there I was was. . On the bench, with him.

There was a book between us, and he seemed busy. I was very interested in my own work. I struggle in this moment typing this, because even in this moment I have trouble remembering exactly how we began discussing the things we wound up discussing. It's pretty remarkable actually. So remarkable in fact, that we both recognized this- almost right away! & THAT, is the essence of what it's all about. THAT kind of interaction is the essence of why we exist. We exist to grow teach and learn with each other. Of all the things he could know, some of the things he knew best, that I know a bit of, brought us into these deep discussions. The discussions were mathematical in nature. I shared what I began working on the day before, while sitting on a bench right next to the one we were sitting on. If you're curious about the discussion, I can share some things.. but my demise is that I have no formal education of these matters, as he does. So this was interesting as well. I will put the note here. In quotes. Mind you- It's only the start of something. I was a causality of time that day. It's as if a test came out of thin air. To share or not to share. Is what I'm working on all I will ever have to give back to the world? Is that how I feel about my work? Am I incapable of additional work that equals or surpasses this work Is the work really even mine? It feels like I channel this information. . And yet, all I do is show up. I show up and everything meets me in the moment. . This work is from one of those moments where all I did was show up.

---------------------

Picture a vacuum of space as a cylinder and use appropriate measures to quantify that particular mod of space- such as in cases which are electromagnetic waves are the spec.- use potential effect equation to displace space and display it in another place! The cylinder contains a magnetic field. Let the principles of the Lorentz force be noted- and understand that the behavior of these particles will act accordingly, under the Lorentz force. Use example : S is not connected . There are circles in S that cannot be shrunk without penetrating R. Or the space of R. 

*Stokes Theorem*

-June 1, 2023- 7:59am

---------------------------

I especially do not aspire to become certain things in this world. There is a responsibility that comes with the evolution of intelligence.  We must take away the ego at a certain point. Take the ego away at certain degrees. The recognition of responsibility evolves as the ego is replaced by essence. This meeting felt like a blend of essence and intelligence, and ego. All of which were perceived to be displayed in "the right way." Gentle enough; yet grounded and strong. Like roots. In the beginning, roots are the most delicate little things! So light! Yet, as they continue to grow with the passing of time, roots become so strong they could break ground. . So ultimately here, I'm saying a lot but I'm not saying much.

[flovey-dovey]

Just now figured out why I hate Crispy Ratt’s limp-wristed performance as Mario so much, and I have a special thanks to the Japanese dub for that! So even though Mamoru Miyano doesn’t sound “like” Mario, he was still entertaining and expressive with his voice. That kinda goes for basically every other dub of the film too, actually, and that’s where Crispy Boy falls miserably short I think. That, and I don’t want to see or realize I’m listening to Crispy Ratt when Mario Jump-Man Mario talks, I want to see Mario, which is, in essence, the entire point of being a VA. The dude’s cringy and generic as f*ck, basically.

Of course, everything is what everybody else has said already by now, but to really get into it because I haven’t given my piece yet, here’s the big salty beef steak: from the beginning, Charles Martinet was right there, still is, and has done a reading of a Mario comic fully in-character. Granted it was 8 years ago, but that’s to say nothing of his Vines/TikToks where he had fun voicing over some shenanigans of Mario and Luigi toys. He’s still perfectly capable, and it proves he can do a good Mario voice that isn’t “Mickey Mouse” levels of “annoying”. He has range, he is entertaining, and he is fitting, because he’s done it for literal decades, and anybody arguing with that clearly doesn’t own an air fryer.

Also, while watching the Japanese dubbed trailer, there’s the bit where Mario has a Cheep-cheep stuck to his face. Where Mamoru Miyano goes all-in, muffling his voice and actually sounding distressed, Crispy is literally just speaking as if there weren’t a giant fish sucking his face off. I legit thought that they took lines from another part of the movie for trailer purposes, but no, that’s just how he sounds there. He literally did not even try. Wa-funking-hoo.

[risingleomoon]

April 30, 2021

Dear Reader,

Everyone has a different version of the truth. This is mine.

Word Crimes

I did not choose a word for 2021. My word for 2020 started out as "Discipline"; which I now find to be utterly Ironic. Eventually my word for 2020 was erased entirely and I suddenly shared my Word of the Year with every other human on our planet: Pandemic. Such a strange, ugly word that we have now shared for an entire year.

When 2021 arrived, I'm not ashamed to admit that I was too afraid to choose a word and trust it. I almost chose "healing" or "hope" but decided I'd be safer if I held off. I told myself that I didn't need to choose a word this year. Just in case no one had any designs to Heal the World. I'd wait and see what was being offered first. After all, the world is a mess and there are no words left to describe my new state of living. I don't even trust myself anymore. It was The End of The World (as we know it) but I did not feel fine.

Now the first quarter of 2021 has passed and I've taken another hard Reflection at the songs around me and how I can use their words to best tell the whole story, all sides. A story that begins with a Secret and whose ending is as yet Unwritten. A story of truth forgotten, of lies exposed and of what happens when one forgets herself.

My story. My words. My verity.

***

The First Word:

Watershed

Have you ever had A Moment Like This: A real Moment of Truth where you stared hard at your crossroads and knew, instinctively that no matter what you chose, Everything Has Changed? They're called "Watershed Moments" and most people don't know about them until well after the fact. Some say it's a case of "lessons learned" or the growth of Wisdom, Justice and Love. Even rarer are we who can stand before a Watershed Moment and call it by its name. I'm big on names. They mean things. They matter. October 22nd 2019 was a Watershed Moment that I dared to come to pass. I looked it in the eye as I heard his full name and knew, I Have Been Changed For Good.

JLM was the first man I ever chose without any safety net at all. Quite literally, Nothing Else Mattered. I allowed every change that came with a life altering event. Even if no one but me knew it was life altering. I kept it secret. I kept it safe. He came in like a windstorm; churning up old dust and whipping leaves of futures past in my face. "You Remind Me of Someone I Have Not Met" I told him. Always a prophetess, I am. That would be the biggest truth of them all. He shared his name, birthdate and Family Portrait with the most powerful and important men in my life. I let myself fall in love with Serendipity and Happenstance.

What is six months in the correlation of time? It's a second, a blip even. When you look at the Five Hundred, Twenty Five Thousand, Six Hundred Minutes the average human measures their year with, six months is nothing in the way of time. Yet an entire lifetime for me was Hanging By A Moment. "Hold me closer Tiny Dancer" he'd sing, so very like my dad all those years ago. I would have married my music man. For five of our six, we were the very essence of life itself. As the holidays came and went, we attended events and family gatherings. A rising power couple and Didn't They Almost Have it All. Best of all, it was a true love match. Suddenly I was Goldilocks and I found everything to fit just right. Queen Midas. Until the music stopped.

The Second Word:

Silence

I read once that even the birds will stop singing during the Calm Before the Storm. They tuck themselves safely and silently into their nests, hoping to ride out whatever is to come. I often wish I had the senses of a Flightless Bird. Then I would have recognized the silence around me for the danger it was.

While we now accept 2020 as the Year Lost 'Round the World, it didn't start out with such an easy acceptance. March 17th, 2020, Lilyana went to school for the last day of in-school learning of her 3rd grade year. It was also the day I had the first of my Two Pina Coladas and I was well on my way to Margaritaville. March 20th, the country announced we were in an official Pandemic. I bought two more bottles and created my "Pandemic at the Disco" playlist (Since deleted. Trust me, you don't want to know…)

I was a Lost Boy from Neverland now to everyone, but barely anyone knew it. Suddenly everything else mattered. I couldn't even scream; "I Think I Need Help". JLM's concern grew as my manic depression increased. When he realized he couldn't save me, we began fighting. A foreign concept to us. We never fought. Finally, the 21 Guns were brought in. On March 30th, I took my first shakey steps into a new Sober, holding the hand of the one who has always been there, since he found me among The Fray. By then it was too late. I was saved but the relationship with the man I'd come to see as my NotHusband had been destroyed by my Descent Into the Depths. I'd come out of my inebriated state but stepped into a deafening silence.

When the world fell into a Schism as Covid-19 took us hostage; true-to-form, I filled that silence with the loudest, most exuberant demolition of my life that I could come up with. And Nothing Else Matters was destroyed by my Wrecking Ball. Why couldn't I have stopped to listen to The Sound of Silence instead of filling it with my own needless noise. The simple answer is that I am big and loud. I do everything big and loud. When I am happy, this is usually a non-issue. Sadness, anger and (even worse) frustration can make that big and loud a bit problematic. Nine times out of ten, I have a security structure in place. A team of individuals who know the warning signs, who are close enough to control and contain my big and loud. A pandemic is a game changer in so many ways. I still had that team, held that support but now I was also standing on my own. Quite possibly for the first time in my life. I Fell from the Wall.

Yes, I'd been left decimated by all that had happened in the time from March 17th to April 20th of 2020. I may or may not have been of dual minds at that time. I wasn't exactly Broken, Just Bent. On one hand, I was desperately seeking to repair the damage I'd done with JLM. On the other, I felt that I needed a temporary replacement. Just someone to fill the void for a minute. Until JLM came to his senses.

The Third Word:

Rebound

JCB was the perfect candidate. He met all my physical requirements (and then some), a Smooth Operator who blew my mind with his wit and intellect. Living just minutes apart, I love having a boyfriend practically Out My Back Door, he would be the best choice for an easy rebound. It wasn't supposed to last long. He was chosen for ease and convenience and I absolutely never intended to become his DogMom. Today's Disturbia stems directly from that fact. I didn't mean to do what I did, even as I strategically placed my Men on the Chessboard. Intent and roads paved to hell. Hell hath no and all that. I wasn't exactly a woman scorned but the world would still face my fury.

Ahh, but Love is Strange. In the early days, I shared only what I was obligated to share. I bent the truth and utilized all accessible loopholes to ensure that we are never going to have that Two Become One thing happening. From the moment we met, we decided on Once. Only Once. There was no need to become too close after all. He's just a Temporary One. Let me assure, I make no attempt at justification. I aim only to explain the facts as I know them. Perhaps it was wrong to utilize a human bookmark. Perhaps it was that Someone who Saved My Life Tonight. Perhaps it set in motion all that was to come. Either way, Things Happen and there's no going back.

We were happy. Genuinely. This rebound man and I. From 'The Once' to Once Upon A Dream, we enjoyed each other fully. So what's wrong then?

Everything.

The Last Word:

Verity

As of this writing I am being given the silent treatment/ghosted by my partner of over a year. I wish I could say this was the first time. It's not even the First Time in Forever. JCB has turned out to be quite the narcissistic personality. While he has offered up a wonderful case study over this past year, I am now struggling with The Climb. What started as character flaws I could easily overlook (after all, he was supposed to be temporary), have now become Toxic and must be expunged. Because now, I Feel Everything.

The problem with the truth is that others don't want you to tell it. They'll do whatever it takes to make you stop speaking. Some put their hands right over your mouth. Others slowly replace your voice with theirs. Sometimes, it might take awhile to notice. I've noticed. Now it's your turn to Hear My Voice.

The chronicle of abuse I've mislabeled as being my own fault will not be reported here. My truth is not in the details of horror and fear. My Truth About Love is in that I was as easily moved to co-dependent behavior this time as I was in the past. I allowed myself to settle into an old comfort zone simply because I was living in a Perfect Illusion. That it was an Illusion created by my own mind, notwithstanding. A wonderful psychological study, my JCB is. I might be an even better one.

Yet somehow, JCB is the only man I've ever chosen from day one to day now without any reason beyond "Because I Can". No matter what he has or hasn't done, he's never held me captive. Perhaps that's why I Find My Bliss in Ignorance. Perhaps that's why I allowed all I allowed. Perhaps that's even why I'll continue to allow it. I continue to choose.

Moving forward Into the Unknown, these are my truths:

The past is not the present & people are not temporary.

Gaslighting is real & pandemics suck.

Words Matter. Choose them wisely.

The music is playing again everyone. The Bitch is Back.

[manosaldibujo]

OKEY AMMM YES yes YeeEEESSSSS

Xvials is literally SO INTERESTING LIKE MMM.

Tw: Abuse relationship, codependency, suicide, toxic behaviors.

Sooo I don’t really see it as romantic (not in a really helathy way ) but absolutely like more, FAAAR more than only friendship. I don’t really know how to describe it but this bitches had some of the strongest feelings for eachother in the multiverse, let’s start whit what I consider most important of them. They are codependent (kindaaa) .I wont get over alot what makes a relationship codependent in dept but they share some characteristics, not the perfect codependent definition but enough to be considered one in my opinion, a relationship of this type is described by the cleveland clinic as “…relationship there tends to be a severe imbalance of power. Often, one person may be giving much more time, energy and focus to the other person, who consciously or unconsciously takes advantage of the situation in order to maximize their needs and desires.”

This give us a lot of similarities quikcly, to start, we can asume that ink is the one who puts the energy on caring Xgaster’s literal life ( ink stopped Xgasters suicide attemp at the beginning, how is it possible that people dont talk enough about that) also i mean literally because he CARRY in a vial XGASTER’S SOUL, HE’S ESSENCE AS A BEING, THE POWER OF OVERWRITE, THE LAST BIT OF HE’S EXISTENCE, all that weight and responsability in ink’s tiny hands…bro like you can’t be more literal than that.

Also, about the word “energy” get’s represented better in all the shit ink goes true to protect the vial (underverse 0.4 especially but also the fight whit chara in 0.3 part 2). It’s well established in ink’s lore that he absolutely hates being emotionless, he avoid it at all cost, now then image the amount of seriousness that he take the task of protecting the vial to STOP DRINKING THEM ON PORPUSE, I can’t explain enough how big this is, he gave up everything for the Xevent…

But also you know, it’s debated how much he do it for Xgaster/Xevent or for himself (wich is also a big posibility) this implied in Xtale 0 and the Underverse 0.4 speech and the newest chapter of 21 years comic;

That’s also why I debate the amount of similarities whit a codependent relationship, ink, even if he is the one who put’s the energy and care it’s still nothing close to be submissive, something very common in this kind of persons (but not always the case) ,It’s more likely to adapt this behavior because of the dying multiverse and the hope of being useful. My baby.

There’s still a lot to talk about ink’s Underverse version, but let’s jump to the other side of this codependent relationship, Xgaster.

I would like to analize a extremely underrated video first, I think it explains perfectly he’s role in all this and also, it is, in my humble opinion, the mother of Xvials. The video in cuestion? …come back.

The video goes about a profound sens of misery from Xgasters’s part, while he’s smiling in he’s turn apart body, in a black void, only communicating by windings. The most probably explanation of where this take part is between the timeline X (the cross one) and until 0.4 happens, he is in the void that appears in Xtale X at the end, it’s also seem like most people think this is the future, the ending of all Underverse. But this doesn’t matter to much, what’s matter now is that Xgaster is alone, in pain and has lost everything, that’s the context we need.

He is at he’s lowest, even lower than that time he tried to end he’s life (thing that dosen’t seem’s like a possibility there). What would he think there ? What kind of thing goes through some one’s mind in that level of agony?

Friend

Help me

I’ m sorry everyone

It’s not fair. am I right_

Come back

I’m losing it. Let’s get ride of the two cuotes that relate the least to their relationship first. I’m sorry everyone and it’s not fair. am I right. Even tho the I’m sorry everyone goes more to the persons he failed (Xtale people) it can also applied to ink, for putting so much into him, but I think we all agree that it goes more to he’s people as their creator, it’s not fair. am I right seems like he trying to calm himself, to make it seems that he doesn’t deserve that and see if some one agrees, or, he accepting the horrors he made, saying that is wasn’t fair for them.

Let’s get the tree juicy ones for us. Friend, not dear friend, or old friend or ink my friend or even just ink, Friend, raw and direct as it can get, Help me…BRO WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY LIKE HE, THE MAN WHIT THE MOST AMOUNT OF PRIDE, WHO WOULD PROBABLY NEVER ACCEPT A WEACKNESS, said HELP ME to a little rainbow cute boy. I think the fact that when he was at he’s lowest the only coping mechanism he had was ink, thinking in him, wonder where he was, how he felss right now, how to compare he’s feelings whit he’s. This is shown in Xtale II, III, IV, X etc.

So is no surprise why he think on him at that black void.

Come back.

This is the one that hit me, again,whit such pride, how vulnerable does he feels, how much does he trust him, but there’s something else that breaks my heart, come back implies that some one it’s not currently there and you want them to be there again, if the context is the end of Underverse then…men this is lost for Xvials.

Sooo after crying a little let’s come back to the codependency thing, it’s clear that in “come back” Xgaster truly relies on ink for he’s own good, winning the position of “the one who takes advantage”, if is it consciously or unconsciously can be debated, I honestly think that it started unconsciously and then grow to consciously ( the soul in the vial thing) but still didn’t came from a harm intention, just desesperation because in that moment (Xtale IX) everything was falling down, so maybe he thought it was the only way, it was still to much for ink of course but I genuinely don’t think it was meant to harm him. Also ink as a chaotic neutral enjoyed the task at first, even get excited.

Soooo yhea, that’s why I think they are one of the most interesting codependent couples out there, one of the only ones that actually exist, usually the multiverse only has romance, enemies or friends, sooo this is fresh in my opinion.

What do you think ?? Do you like to see them as romantic and develop their relationship to a better one ? As toxic friends ? Do you think ink could betray Xgaster ? Vice versa ?

Also danm I didn’t even talk about they both being aro/ace HAAA I LOVE THEM.

end of the post bye bye.

Xtale and Underverse belong to @xtaleunderverse

Ink belong to comyet.

/nm //vent?

its so bad. i wish there were other people who made fanart or writings of xvials. like. i know there are stuff out there, OBVIOUSLY i know, but... its minuscule.

i want to see how others interpret their buddying relationship, i want to see other people writing xgaster falling in love with ink, ink falling in love right back, i want people to see them and think 'yea, that ship could work' AND THEN MAKE STUFF...

but no, they can only see xgaster hating ink or viceversa which like. WHERE DID THAT EVEN COME FROM ??? OTHER THAN YOU GUYS BEING PISSED AT XG ????? HE LITERALLY SAYS HE ADMIRES INK, HE WANTS TO BE LIKE THEM, AND I WILL NEVER LET YOU PEOPLE FORGET THAT.

...

i do work hard to provide for those people who actually want it, though... but... im so alone in this. and i think i can complain about this becAUSE I'M NOT KIDDING! i LITERALLY made the xvials tag on ao3. (it's not marked as common yet but itS THERE.)

and if you had anything i would take it. finished, unfinished, completely batshit insane but in existence! i would take it! and store it because my god am i starved... 😞😞😞

i should make a prompt week or something maybe THEN it could get on its feet...

[namorthesubmariner]

Namor & Talokan

So these are my thoughts upon watching Black Panther: Wakanda Forever twice now.

I loved Namor. I truly feel they captured the characterization so well in so many ways and it’s amazing how good of a job they did in this movie, how Tenoch owns that role, how perfect everything is. This is what it means to adapt a character, changing things but keeping the essence of the character and tbh the changes were such a great choice because in the end it served to enhance the character and bring him to new audiences and fans to enjoy and he is still NAMOR. So many people complaining about how bad it is they stripped Namor of everything obviously think that Namor begins and ends with Atlantis and know nothing of his character.

The overarching theme of Mothers, and their children, Namor & Fen, Shuri & Ramonda, play a central role amidst all the grief of the past/losing someone. Colonization is the enemy, not Namor who was just Wakanda’s antagonist. 

Talokan mirrors Wakanda but asks the question: What if Colonization had won, what happens to the survivors who escaped? Wakanda never had to deal with the Invasion of their homeland, while Talokan did.

In the comics Namor is often the “Voice of Reason” when placed within a group dynamic, such as the Illuminati, it’s Namor who points out their plans are stupid or finds the most straightforward path to his goals, he is a very honest character and doesn’t hold back his words/thoughts. So it makes sense that just as Coogler holds up Talokan to mirror Wakanda so he would hold Namor up as a mirror to Shuri and gives her the option that others in Wakanda could not, to take on the world and give into those feelings of Rage. Ramonda (and by extension Wakanda) wants Shuri to grieve properly in a healthy and begin to move on with her life, which Shuri cannot do because in part she blames herself for not being able to save T’Challa. Survivors guilt is strong within her even though she really couldn’t do anything but that’s how guilt works. Which plays off really well because Coogler wasn’t afraid to let Namor be exactly like his comic counterpart and follow through on his word/promises even if that meant he was going to do things no Morally White/Good aka Hero character would do, since Namor is a Morally Grey character he has the space to make and follow through on choices he finds benefits himself and his people.

Spoilers beneath the cut, so this is your warning.

While Namor is much older and had time to rule over his people and deal with the grief of losing his mother for hundreds of years he chose Rage & Vengeance as his crutch to get through losing her. He focuses his anger on the world. He isn’t wrong, the Spanish Colonizers are the root cause for all the evil done to him and his people and by extension the surface world. Namor is a Hero to his people and he is their Protector. Which means he will be viewed as an enemy of the surface world. Namor was superhero comics first anti-hero and Tenoch!Namor is the same.

As a general overview before I get into details, Namor’s arc is very complete. His goal was an alliance with Wakanda, he makes it clear the first time he comes to ask them for help because Namor does not ask for help, not in the comics, not unless he trusts that person or is willing to trust that person. Namor + Trust is a very important trait. Listen if you think Namor couldn’t find the scientist and kill Riri where she stood on his own than you don’t know how capable Namor is. He and his people are not primitive/lacking of skills or smarts, he doesn’t need Wakanda’s help but he recognizes it would be smarter in the long run to have an ally that would empathize with him and his people. He chooses Wakanda because its the Nation his mother told him about, and he recognizes that they and Talokan are both very similar. Namora and Attuma were literally using a hunting trick for Riri, have someone else draw her out into the open before taking them down. Why else would they have been waiting close enough to take Riri if Namor had asked the Wakandans to bring her to him? If Namor had truly trusted them to find AND bring Riri to him he would have waited instead he had a back up plan which were Attuma and Namora. Namor’s trust of the surface, even Wakanda only goes so far. 

Let me get into details. You don’t know how much it’s killing me to not have pics to go along with my text but I will have to wait till the movie is out on dvd to be able to gif/screencap everything.

I’m starting off with character design first:

Wings.

His wings are AMAZING. There was no easy Superman gliding and swooping here! His air walking was astounding, at times it felt like he had to really push himself to get up to a certain height level like a bird putting more effort into its wings getting off the ground vs catching a air current. He was so agile and FAST, turning on a whim and aware of his surroundings, honestly some parts felt like he was just swimming or dancing through the air, the way he twists his body/hips to change positions. I am so happy they included the wings because it’s so important to his character.

His wings flap rapidly like a hummingbird, and it’s always been one of my personal headcanons that’s how Namor’s wings move and it was really cool to see! There’s a sound you hear when his wings move, like a rattlesnake/buzzing, I think its because he is called K’uk’ulkan, Feather Serpent God, so that rattlesnake buzzing is a nod to the serpent aspect of that.

Edit: AresisKander on Twitter added this comment after reading this post and I am including their comment:

About the sound of the wings or when he flies, I think the reference is to the ayoyotes or chachayotes many people in Mexico still use to do/reenact traditional dancing

A photo of Ayoyotes.

/End Edit.

I did some searching online today to try and figure out what bird/feather pattern they modeled Namor’s wings off of because in the movie it’s not pure white wings and had some light patterns of grey/light brown with the white. I think its modeled after the Osprey (Pandion Haliaetus).

The parts I’ve highlight here are what stood out to me the most in the movie, the tops of his wings had the same white feathery look and his lower feathers had that pattern. The bird makes sense for Namor as the Osprey is found near rivers/bodies of water and is a fish eating bird of prey, with excellent eyesight to see underwater to hunt their fish. They are excellent divers too.

Tenoch’s ears were so cute, and while Namor has pointed ears, the rest of his people do not, so some people like Namora, use jewelry to give themselves the pointed ears like Namor, others use jewelry on the outside of their ear to mimic the pointed ear shape.

GILLS.

THE TALOKANIL (or is it Talokaneil?) HAVE GILLS. I AM SO HAPPY THEY KEPT THAT FROM THE COMICS!!! The Gills have always set Marvel’s Atlanteans apart from DC, and even Namor has gills in the comics even though artists forget to draw it but it was an important plot point in a couple of comics. Seeing their water masks covered not just their mouth/nose but also the gills on their necks was so cool. I can’t wait until high res stills come out so I can show you all how cool their costumes were! the gill masks were soooo pretty!!! There is just so much detail on their look/costumes/mayan influences that I can’t do it justice with words but it was beautiful, Namora had a few outfit changes through the movie which I loved.

Speaking of Namora, she was not at all like her comic counterpart and like I guessed before she is basically a mix of Namora and Andromeda. It makes sense why they wouldn’t use the character Andormeda since she is Attuma’s daughter in the comics so they wouldn’t have time to explain why his daughter is the same age as him etc. since comic atlanteans are long lived and look the same ageish. Andromeda operates as Namor’s right hand woman, the captain of his guards/army, a highly respected close friend and long time ally who would always fight beside Namor and offer advice.

Namora is smart, loyal, and such a badass in the movie. Mabel played her beautifully and I adored her. Anyways I loved this interpretation of Namora and I hope we get to see more of her and Attuma. Attuma’s character does not get alot of lines, we have no clue to his motivations and if he hates Namor or not like in the comics, in the comics they were enemies, but the recent King in Black: Namor tells the story of Attuma’s origin and friendship with Namor before it all went bad.

Namora, Attuma, and Namor all wear different outfits throughout the movie. The character designs were brilliant, and the costumes were gorgeous, so I really hope they win an award for that again.

It also feels like they each have an “Avatar” of sorts. Namor is the Feathered Serpent, Attuma is a Shark, and Namora is a Lion Fish, remember the Lion Fish is a deadly venomous creature so those spines Namora wears are a warning threat to her enemies.

The Plot

I will be focused on the Namor/Talokan plot mainly.

The first scene we get with Namor is literally ripped from the pages of Marvel Comics (1939) #1. In the comic, two divers go exploring a ship and Namor darts by too fast for them. Later Namor cuts the lines of one diver killing him, then goes after the second diver.

In the movie the divers are sent to check on a drill in the ocean, it had struck vibranium, which the Americans were after since they had a Vibranium detection machine. Namor swims by too fast for them to see, they are too focused on their find, however one diver’s life support signal stops, when the scientist lady on the ship asks the second diver to turn around to check on her partner and see if he was ok, she turns only to find cut life support lines. Namor comes for her next. I want to say very quickly that while Vibranium was included in the backstory/plot of the movie it also has it’s roots in the comics but only since the 90s:

Golden age - two divers on an exploratory mission - Marvel Comics (1939) #1 Silver age - expanded: two divers were sent there because the captain of the ship was Captain Leonard McKenzie on his return to the Antarctic waters after decades to search for Fen. The Sub-Mariner (1968) #44 Modern Age - The original cause of two ships coming to Antarctica is because the first one (The Endurance) was on a mission to find Vibranium, while the second one {The Oracle, Namor’s father’s ship) was on a mission to find The Endurance. Namor, the Sub-Mariner (1990) #52

So as you can see they just cut off the Leonard part since Fen’s origins have changed as well, and they kept the scene from the first comic and their motivation is Vibranium. There was a very Depths!Namor vibe to the character which I adored because Sub-Mariner: The Depths is such a good comic.

Meanwhile above there is a siren song luring the crew to their deaths in the sea. I loved the Sirens, they are a highlight of the Talokanil. The ship is now under attack by the Talokanil, and the scientist lady escapes into a helicopter. Attuma and Namora arrivals are great! The Talokanil are efficient at their tasks.

Namora watches as the helicopter goes higher into the sky but doesn’t do anything because she knows Namor will stop them. The first scene showing Namor’s full strength is amazing, it cannot be understated how Namor is a Power in the comics, he is literally called a one man navy. Namor is the guy the other characters call in when they need the Big Guns. He wrecks that helicopter and the scene ends with a visual of Namor hover over the sea in the dark, it really reminds me of this visual.

Marvel Fanfare (1982) #16

So as you see Namor has been called Devil, Sea Devil, Sea Demon in the comics which makes the Spanish Priest’s words to a young Namor really hit home because humans have always viewed him as something not human, evil, and otherworldly even though they themselves are not good people.

The next time we see Namor he is rising out of the water in Wakanda to speak with Ramonda and Shuri, he carries with him a shell, a conch shell, which in can be symbolic of a declaration of war or something else depending on the context as written here and here by Aztec Empire on twitter. The soundtrack to Namor’s arrival is freaking awesome, and Namor’s first show of pure astonishment/wonder at Wakanda is so endearing. Alot of people complained about this online saying he wouldn’t do that, but the truth is Namor does know how to smile, he loves the wonder and beauty of Nature, he isn’t a scowling angry fish man all the time. Tenoch’s micro expressions are amazing, he goes from wonder to being a Threat in the space of seconds. What I really like is how he captured Namor’s humor which is not an easy thing to do since in the comics Namor has a very dry gallows humor that makes people around him think its very serious but he’s actually telling the joke more to himself than for the benefit of others. Namor says “- I took care of it” meaning he totally killed all those people but he’s acting like it was nothing more than a small chore or something. lol. Also there is something else I wanted to point out about the beginning of this scene, Ramonda and Shuri are alerted by elephants who sensed Namor and ran, in the comics when Namor is running amok in New York for the first time he releases several wild creature from the zoo, which also had elephants. Now I don’t know if that was in reference to that scene in Marvel Mystery Comics (1939) #8 but it did remind me of it.

And as stated earlier, Namor was willing to extend his trust but still Attuma and Namora followed Shuri and Okoye in the later scenes.

MCU!Attuma is strong and a capable warrior, I greatly enjoyed him baiting Okoye on the bridge into a fight. The way he looks at Riri (whom Namora told him to kill) and decides she isn’t going anywhere so he might as well have a fight for fun with Okoye was Peak Character for him. Namora is annoyed and snaps at him to stop playing around. I love their dynamic with Attuma playing the Strong Muscle character and Namora though tiny was clearly in charge. Both of them have consistent characterizations, both are very loyal to Talokan and they get stuff done. Attuma is 100% ready to kill Riri and so is Namora. They are looking out for the future of their people. BUT when Shuri asks them to take them to Talokan alive they confer with each other, they treat Shuri like the royalty she is and they take her wish seriously since they also know Namor wants an alliance with Wakanda. If Namor had ordered them to kill the scientist at all costs, I don’t doubt they would have been done there on the bridge.

When Shuri and Riri are in Talokan, Shuri is treated as according to her social status, a Princess, with all the respect given to her from one Nation to another which really stood out to me. They give her traditional clothing, and they aren’t unknind, they care for Riri and give her food while Shuri goes to speak with Namor. I’m just pointing out that Coogler isn’t depicting the Talokanil as some hostile people who are unreasonable in wanting to kill Riri, they are only hostile when the safety of their people is in question.

The biggest change I would say character wise in regards of the transition from the Atlanteans to the Talokanil is that the Atlanteans actively hated and looked down on Namor for being half human/atlantean, its a major source of isolation for Namor. Namor’s character is rooted in his biracialness, is rooted in being a man of two worlds without fitting into either world and struggling with his two people. Changes seem to have taken away that biracial aspect in the form of two different races of human/atlantean since it seems Namor is a full Mayan/Talokan now however it doesn’t mean it’s lost, Namor is never a part of the Talokanil proper, he is respect and revered yes but also set apart in isolation because of his slowed aging meaning he would outlive all of his people, and that he is seen as their deity. When Shuri meets Namor he is open and honest with her. He RESPECTS her in a way the Elders of her people didn’t, because they saw her as a child. He respects her because she is a Princess and because Namor respects women. I know there is alot of bad Fanon out there regarding Namor’s treatment of women in the comics but as a person who has read all of his comics, so much of it comes down to out of context weird fanon and also some moments of really bad writing however Comic!Namor was raised by his single mother Fen and has great respect for women, so of course Namor would respect Shuri and treat her in accordance with her social stature.

I’ve already begun to see NamorShuri shipping discourse so let be preface this by saying I literally do not care. I don’t care what people ship. However this meta is my, a comic fan’s, thoughts on Namor’s character and the rest of the movie, and I would appreciate it if people don’t use my words out of context nor they drag me into any shipping wars. Once one of my other metas was used out of context to promote racism and I don’t appreciate that. Also I personally believe that shipping is not the end of all things. I believe shipping is a fun addition to the source BUT it’s NOT the end all reason behind character’s actions. So people saying Namor was totally hitting on Shuri, or flirting with her, or whatever, that’s fun fanon for you but I personally do not see it that way.

Namor is charismatic in the comics and Tenoch!Namor captures Namor’s charisma, anger, sorrow, and light heartedness but most of all he captures Namor’s loneliness. When Namor opens up to Shuri and tells her the story of his people, of his mother, he is trying to find a connection, some empathy, a friend.

Princess Fen and her people.

They don’t say Fen is royalty or some high ranking woman in their Nation, however they don’t not say that either. Until we get more information about her then I will only speak on what I saw. Fen and her people are suffering from smallpox brought over by the Spanish Invaders, her people are dying, and she is pregnant. We see Fen place a stone, a funeral rite, into the mouth of a dead man who was placed in a dug grave, he had already passed. The unnamed man died of smallpox, and I personally believe this could have been Namor’s father but also it simply could have been a person who was her family/friend/she had some connection to since we aren’t exactly sure who he was. In the comics Fen is the most beautiful Atlantean ever, and I love the actress they chose for Fen, Maria’s beauty takes my breath away to be honest. In the comics Fen meets Namor’s father after she was sent to spy on the Americans and she falls in love with him. She is strong, smart, and fierce princess of her people. I have very strong feelings about Fen as she is one of my favorite characters.

The Shaman creates the potion/serum they drink to turn into water breathers/Talokanil, however Fen hesitates because her concern is her child. The Shaman promises her that this will save her child and her and then swears that her son will be their new king since he will be the first born of their new people. This new backstory for Namor fits the tone of the movie. I loved both Fen and the Shaman, their actors were so good.

Fen being a central character in Namor’s life is so important and I’m really glad that the movie didn’t skip over that. Fen is a guiding force, the reason why Namor is the way he is in the comics, her love and protection, even her naming him “Namor” which in the comics/atlantean it means “Avenging Son” all shaped Namor into the character he is. Fen and Namor are so important to me.

Namor speaks about how he grew up slowly and his mother aged normally, and how for her death she wanted to be buried in her homeland on the surface. Namor carries out his mother’s wishes. Fen in the comics is also buried in her homeland in the antarctic waters of her youth.

Now. This scene. The Child without Love. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I have not been able to stop thinking about this since.

Namor is the AVENGING SON, he gets his identity from his mother. When I learned she wouldn’t be naming him that I was honestly very upset because its so central to who Namor is, but then I saw the adapted scene and I feel it works in this context. In the comics his name is a warning to the surface world/white people who hurt his people in the original comics. In the movie the name was bestowed upon him by a Spanish Priest who calls him a devil after Namor saw their evil and punished them for it. Namor wears his name as a promise to his people and a threat to his enemies,“My enemies call me Namor”.

Honestly the burial of Fen was so sad, Namor even places a stone in her mouth as well. She missed her home and wanted to be returned there. This really speaks to me about immigration and displacement, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard my own family members, the older ones, who don’t live in the homeland anymore talk about how they must be buried there. I think its something that only people who leave their homeland (not out of choice but a need for a place that will be better for lives because their home isn’t safe or they have better opportunities in foreign land) can really understand that no matter how far away they are, the need to return there, be buried there for the rest of time is a such a human need. The themes of immigration/displacement/colonization is prevalent throughout their story.

In the comics Namor’s first motivation is to wage war against the surface (white) people who hurt his people and he does cause a ruckus but then he faces the true Evil of Humanity when he finds out about the Nazis, he fights alongside the humans to stop them in WWll because he knew that they would come after his people next. 

In the movie, the Evil of Humanity is the Spanish Colonizers. There is no romanticized version of this, there is no Spanish colonizer myth of them being benevolent people bringing advancement to the Natives. They are shown in their full evil glory as colonizers who hurt, killed, and destroyed Nations of Native people. This is the first time Namor sees humans, and its the worst they have to show.

When Nakia is searching for Namor/a way to find Shuri and Riri, she speaks to an old woman who tells her where Namor was sighted, and how he returns, and those who go after him with ill in their hearts do not return. So it means Namor is standing on a beach, returning over the years, because there is only one thing that would bring him to the surface world, his mother’s grave. Namor was visiting Fen’s grave in her ancestral lands.

The Sub-Mariner (1968) #17

Namor’s core character is that he is a hero to his people, and their protector, which the movie displayed so accurately. After the story of his people’s origins, Namor takes Shuri on a tour of his capital city. Another time one of his jokes comes into play, he is telling her all the ways her body would die under the deep water, and then goes “We have suits!” he neglects to mention its the SAME suits that he had taken from the scientists he had killed in the beginning of the movie! lmao. I love him. I really love this character even more now even though I’ve been such a huge fan of Namor for years.

Talokan’s Capital City is so pretty. I can’t wait to zoom in on all the details.

I honestly wish I could get my hands on that 400 page Talokan design book of it’s history/lore. I wish I had better pictures of the stone ring in which Namor does the Rising Sun hand gesture to activate the water currents that take them from the cave to the capital city. It’s clear the Talokans have advanced science/machines which they use all the time, and how they harrassed the power of undersea vibrainum like the Wakandans. Namor even says “I brought my people the sun”. I know there is like 30 minutes of cut footage so I will be waiting for that to come out in an extra dvd feature soon I hope.

¡Líik’ik Talokan!

The term means “Rise Talokan” or “Talokan Rises” the Mesoamerican symbol is the hand symbol connected to the sun (source & source) Namor and the Talokanil use it in greeting to each other.

The Mesoamerican worldbuilding of Talokan is more than I ever hoped for. One of my main ongoing complaints of Namor’s world in the comics is that Marvel is more interesting in destroying it than building it up so it’s just really great to see that Coogler and team had Mesoamerican experts and a language teacher (who played the Shaman) to make sure everything is the best it can be. I know this is a fantasy take of Mesoamerica but I feel they really respected the source material, and Namor’s transformation from Prince/King of Atlantis to  K’uk’ulkan is a wonderful way to bring about the comic fantasy coding of native (atlantean) people to actual native mesoamerican people representation.

After their tour Namor gives Shuri his mother’s bracelet. The bracelet is made with fibers of the blue vibranium plant that the Shaman gave to Fen and her people. I know people are saying “it’s romantic, he gave her his mom’s bracelet” but like, if y’all could just take off those shipping glasses for one second to understand not everything has a romantic intention behind it. Imo Namor gives it to her as a gift, a sign of trust, everything he’s done so far has been to extend his hand in trust to what he hopes will be allies to his people. That has been his motivation, that’s what compels him to go to Wakanda, he is seeking an ally, and why not the Princess who has a chip on her shoulder, who wants to burn the world as he does?

While Namor is gone, answering Queen Ramonda’s summons/falling for her distraction tactic, Shuri and Riri escape with Nakia and in the process one of Namor’s people, a young woman, is killed. Namor and Ramonda’s confrontation is tense, and again he carries the shell, remember it’s significance of a object that represents war or other intentions.

Until now Namor had been trying to reach Shuri and get her to see things from his POV about why the scientist should die, but he makes it clear to Ramonda that he will kill Shuri along with Riri if it ensures his people will be safe. That is a character who all throughout the movie has made his goals very clear and then the rest of his character follows through on his threats/promises.

When Namor comes back to Talokan he finds that the entire ruse had been a betrayal, a trick, to get him to leave and in the process it costs him the life of one of his people. If there was one thing in the comics that was always sure to set Namor off was one of his people dying, and it’s no different in the movie. He gathers his people to make a speech about how his hopes was for naught.

The attack on Wakanda was Namor’s retaliation for the murder of one of his people.

In the comics the first time Namor attacks Wakanda, he was possessed by the Phoenix Force and not in control of his mind/actions. However there is a Namor and Shuri plot where Shuri sends her warriors to slaughter Atlanteans because of the Phoenix Namor attack, and then he sends the Black Order to Wakanda. Shuri in the comics does have innocent Atlanteans killed and Namor retaliates. Again they adapted stuff for the movie, and it plays out differently but I just thought to share that to showcase how different things were done. You can read Namor and Shuri’s interactions (they don’t have alot in the comics) in my Black Panther (T’Challa) & The Sub-Mariner thread here.

Edit:

I forgot to add another scene that was Comic to Movie:

Black Panther (2009) #1 - there is a scene in the movie that is exactly like this, where they fly above and comment on how fast Namor is in the water.

/End Edit

The action scenes, every time Namor is flying around fighting and breaking stuff. Once again they show that Namor is A THREAT, and he will follow through on it. And again, the Sirens are so pretty, I love them. One thing I really found interesting is how we see Namor’s moral code even in battle, even after Ramonda, he knows he could crush them but instead he gives them time to grieve. Some people might go “why did he give them a week, etc.” but like, it makes sense for his character, he isn’t a murderer because he likes killing, everything he does is in accordance to his moral code and no one elses, honor is a huge thing with Namor in the comics too. Not to mention Namor’s over all goal throughout the movie, he wants Wakanda on his side, he will do what he can to get that. He points at Shuri and says “You are queen now.” He puts the heavy burden of caring for an entire nation on her shoulders, now she will finally be forced to either step up or let it crush her. Namor is pressure that presses Shuri’s character into change, either she will crack or become a diamond.

Good characters are not stationary, good characters grow and change.

The final three scenes I want to talk about:

The big Wakanda vs Atlantis fight takes place on the Sea Leopard, now this could just be a fun name they gave the ship but it could also be a deep dive reference into a Namor comic character, a villain called Sea Leopard. 

Okoye vs Attuma fight again and I loved it. Namora was such a badass!!!! I didn’t mention the water bombs the Talokanil use but its so freaking cool, they use it all throughout the movie and they also use Whales to launch their people out of the water with their tails, or the people ride them. I just love all the worldbuilding of Talokan. I know I haven’t talked about other parts of the movie so far, but my favorite characters are M’Baku, Okoye, and Nakia. I enjoyed every moment M’Baku was on screen!!!

Namor vs Shuri, the big fight, Shuri has finally taken the mantle of the Black Panther, and this action scene was so freaking good. Shuri’s plan to use Namor’s weaknesses against him gains her the upper hand and to be honest all those whiney fanbois crying “but SHE is a girl and SHE can’t fight and beat Namor!!!!” need to shut up because they are WRONG. They aren’t jobbing Namor, they aren’t writing him out of character, these weaknesses are the same weaknesses Namor has in the comics!

Namor’s main weaknesses are: Pollution/Poisons, Being dried out/overheated, his wings being hurt, and some forms of mind control/amnesia.

The fight was more than fair imo and Namor isn’t flawless, he has weakness that were used against him. Honestly I would have been mad if he somehow was unaffected. ALSO I LITERALLY FREAKED OUT WHEN I SAW “IMPERIUS REX” ON SCREEN. lol, my arms were flailing for real.

Shuri weapon is against Namor’s throat and she has the power to avenge her mother, to kill Namor, to take that step further into violence and vengance, to burn the world and move further away from healing and dealing with her greif.

“When my mother died, the last person who truely knew me died with her” Shuri’s loss drove her to become the Black Panther.

Namor’s mother dies, and the last person who truely loved/knew him for him, for being him, not a protector, not a leader, that love dies too.

Ramonda’s words “Show Him Who You Are!” is echoed to Shuri, it’s the same words Ramonda yells at T’Challa in Black Panther, when he fights M’Baku at Warrior’s fall. This is Shuri’s defining moment, her path forks and she has to choose mercy and moving on, dealing with her grief or accepting vengence to forever take a place in her heart. Shuri demands Namor yields, and  Namor yields, he got what he wanted, Wakanda’s alliance.

When Namora confronts Namor about him yielding, he even says as much, that what he hoped to achieve he got, and now Wakanda would turn to them when it was time (for them to face the surface world/colonizers)

The action scenes in the movie are amazing, I could watch it a hundred times, the final confrontation between them ends in peace between their peoples.

As I’ve said, this post was mainly focused on Namor & the Talokanil, and I didn’t go into depth with the other plots/characters because I’ve been a Namor fan for years so all my interest is hyperfocused on him and his people.

My complaint: Everett Ross’s entire plot was not needed in this movie, it literally could have been a phone call with the first scene and we could have gotten more scenes with Namor & the Talokanil.

Personally my one biggest gripe is that in the end Wakanda & Talokan should have gone after the main people who were a threat to their nations which was the american government, it was a earlier plot point with Queen Ramonda at the United Nations that was just dropped as the focus shifted over to Namor. I do wish they had keep that plot thread going and both Wakanda and Talokan had teamed up to fight the Government/Surface World etc. but this is a MCU Marvel/Disney movie and Disney/Marvel is never going to do anything so controversial as calling out the American or other governments in present day for their colonizing ways, which is why I feel keeping Colonization as something that happened in the distant past isn��t true. I know the realities of the studios politics and the message the movie was sending and tbh it really followed through on alot of things and my complaints are minor and doesn’t take away the sheer enjoyment and happiness I felt watching Namor and the Talokanil on screen. Also I’m so glad we got to see Namor’s artistic side, which he has in the comics as well.

Once again I am so glad that Namor is shown as a Man of Color and his people are Native Mesoamerican. I’ve always personally felt the coding in his comics meant that we would lose the impact of his story if they stripped him of his biracial poc coding and cast a generic white man. It was always my biggest worry when it came to thoughts of Live Action Namor.

I love how multifaceted Tenoch’s acting was with Namor. Tenoch Huerta is MY Namor, he is the perfect choice for Namor and I’ve stood by his casting since it was first announced.

Created in 1939 by Bill Everett, Namor is imo one of the best characters ever created in comics, and the mcu version is one that is equally as wonderful and complex. I love both versions very much.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🧸Life with Your Destined Person—Timeless Tarot Pick A Card

In the beginning, Infinite Intelligence was lonely. Being the omniscient Source Of All That Is, Infinite Intelligence was both singular and unified in itself. Having nothing else to compare Itself to, Infinite Intelligence possessed no real comprehension of what Its own essence is all about. It knows Itself to be Love; but what is Love? And so, what is not Love? What makes Love, Love?

One day, Infinite Intelligence decided to fragmentise Itself. Creating polar opposites of Itself, Infinite Intelligence came up with Yang and Yin—Masculine and Feminine—Hot and Cold—Electric and Magnetic—Structure and Space—Matter and Void. In everything that stands between the polar opposites of Yang and Yin is a comprehension of the full spectrum of Order and Chaos. Thus, began the dance between Yang and Yin, and the subsequent fragments of themselves that came after their Genesis.

In the theatre of the Universe, one cannot be without the other—one relies on the other to maintain its identity, its role. Sometimes, Yang would utilise his electric Chaos to wreck Yin’s magnetic Order. Other times, she would take the role of a chaotic avenger and lay ruins to all the orderly structure Yang had created. The Lovers continued to battle each other, tease each other, and sometimes reconcile and help one another (but never for long) for aeons.

Eventually, Yang and Yin’s story took them to Gaia—a planet of winding helter-skelter. So disorderly was the Human World that Yang and Yin almost broke apart completely. Yang and Yin’s ferocious dance on Gaia gave birth to 10,000 new shades of conflict and sorrow, but also 10,000 new shades of hope and dream.

As the Lovers continued their dance, they gasped and clasped, and pushed and pulled; and for very many times they did so, changing costumes as they go. Yang and Yin had spent so much time bathing in the many colours that helped define what Love is and isn’t. Soon enough, they began to remember, and yearned for the times they had been gently loving each other in the embrace of Eternity.

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Pile 1 – If There Could be Heaven on Earth, It Would be You to Each Other

what unites you – King of Cups Rx

You, the person reading this, whether you are a girl or a boy (or everything else in between), you are represented by the femme in this picture. You are gentle, fragile almost, and there is so much beauty contained within. Your heart is kind, understanding, accommodating, empathetic, helpful, nurturing, and the beauty of your physical avatar truly shines by what’s on the inside.

This world is not a match to you. Your exquisite beauty causes demons to succumb to bad behaviours. You’ve been attacked so much by external forces that continually made you wonder what was inherently wrong with you. Nothing was though—this world is just not good enough for you. Took you a while to figure it out, but once your newfound sense of identity was solidified, your Soul began yearning for (and subsequently attracting) your vibrational match—the one person destined to be your beautiful Lover.

Their purpose for being born? I won’t exaggerate this but, they literally came down here just to love you. They are your mighty protector. Your literal Heaven on Earth. Your dreams come true. Of course they’ve got a big Soul Mission of their own—all Souls do when they come to Earth! But…

how they treasure you – Ace of Cups Rx

Because of the way this world has made you feel, you’ve hidden a lot of your true self. You’ve reduced a lot of your brightness and suppressed a lot of your affection for others. Like, you just want to disappear or be invisible or just drift off to Neptune and never return to Earth. Honestly, sometimes you’re just confused, afraid, and you just need someone to reassure you that you’re not losing your shit—that everything is gonna always turn out okay in the end.

Well, life with your Destined Person is an ointment for all of these wounds—emotional, psychological, spiritual, whateverical. Here’s a person who holds your hand affectionately, gives you warm teddy bear hugs, shows you off to the world for the exquisite beauty of your Soul (rather than just physical), guards you like this expensive gentleman in the picture does, glares at anybody who is stupid enough to threaten your wellbeing or dignity. And…

Yeah, they could be a little possessive but you like that anyway, so what’s the problem? LMAO Alongside the heteros, I see quite a significant number of LGBTQ+ peeps also attracted to this pile. I think, this is partly resonant with the hardships you’ve had to endure and why your Destined Person is fiercely protective of you⚔️Non-heteros usually have to fight really hard just to keep their relationships (and sanity for that matter).

how you cherish them – Knight of Pentacles Rx

You may not be the most practical or grounded person on the planet, but even that is wonderful to your Destined Person because you are balancing their earthiness. With you, they come to believe in magick and miracles. They come to understand the fluidity of reality and how we ourselves manifest three-dimensionality.

In a manner of speaking, your Destined Person could’ve been bored to death by the drabness of this world. Why is everybody so ordinary? And then, le wild you appeared and KABOOM the sky fell down. And your Destined Person rushed to rescue you from the rubble of the sky and they fell fucking in Love for the very fucking first time, at that very fucking moment.

You, my dear, literally doesn’t need to do anything else. By just breathing, by just being there, by just being your kind and caring self, you’ve literally breathed Life itself into the very being of your significant other. That’s just how magickal you are.

Soul Story of Your Dharma🔻💜

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Pile 2 – All That’s Sweet and Lovely in the World

what unites you – King of Pentacles

Really, you must’ve performed marvellous miracles elsewhere in the Galaxy, or hey, maybe even on Earth, in some other incarnations. You and your Destined Person have been a team for a very long time. Your Souls are no strangers to each other. I think you probably even promised to meet again in this incarnation for this specific purpose: sweet indulgence🍮Allow me to elaborate.

Planet Earth is hell, yeah? It’s simmering with suffering and you’re meant to whip your magic and turn it into shimmering cotton clouds. You both have this magnificent power within you because you’ve done this for other civilisations in the history of mankind; even those beyond Earth.

Of course, you may have had the roughest Life (or not, but that isn’t part of this PAC), but the most important thing is that your Life together with your Destined Person is light, abundant, prosperous, happy, merry, and all that’s sweet and lovely. -More on this in the Soul Story of Your Dharma section.-

how they treasure you – 10 of Wands

There’s an uncanny balance in the dynamic of your relationship. Because your Souls have traversed the Universe together so often, you resemble each other so much, like twins, almost. You are both a remedy to each other’s weariness of the world. Yeah, even happy, positive people get tired of the world sometimes. Earth is just too much, innit?

To your Destined Person, you’re so precious and they think you deserve all that’s wonderful in the world. They can be a little self-sacrificing in this regard though. They’re willing to put up with a lot of hardships just to make you happy and contribute to the relationship. They’re happy to do that, because you’re worth it. This energy is best described by Bruno Mars’s That’s What I Like! They’re just like that! And I leave it at that🌞Go listen to Bruno🍾

how you cherish them – 10 of Cups

The reading ends here. Need I say more?🤭You’re such a maternal character—gender doesn’t matter. You give all of your heart. You create a beautiful, harmonious, happy family with your Destined Person. As much as they strive to provide materially for you, and make you happy with the champagne and expensive rides and everything else, as much you bring to the table the intangible qualities that make Life on Earth a fulfilling emotional paradise.

-Hope that makes sense, but I see this group as dreamy peeps, so I think that description is alright🤡-

Honestly, even if today you’re struggling and sad, please put your faith in this energy. You’ve manifested this reading, right? I see nothing else but beautiful balance and abundance in your Life. You’re blessed with a beautiful future and that only completes your story for you to become a source of inspiration, a glimmer of hope, for others🌸

Soul Story of Your Dharma🔻💗

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Pile 3 - Intense Dramatic Relationship

what unites you – Page of Wands

To begin with, even on a Soul level, this connection is dramatic, intense, complex in a wholesome way, and if you one day looked into your synastry chart, there just might be a significant number of sextile aspects there. Your Soul and their Soul are no strangers; in fact, you may have shared some kind of rivalry in a different incarnation.

Actually, as typical of my pile 3s… This may be the group of peeps who resonate with having come from advanced (or ancient) civilisations off-planet. I’m seeing you’ve played rivalry roles in different lifeforms; you’ve challenged, hated, and even brought demise to each other. Of course, from our Souls’ perspective, this was all fun and game. At any rate, you’ve come across each other multiple times and now… something is changing.

Meeting on this Planet… You faintly remember knowing this other Soul from somewhere else, but can’t quite put a finger on it. This other person intimidates you, but you feel dearly drawn to them. It’s all thrilling and curiosity-inducing. You're learning to love an enemy. For some of you who are really, really advanced... there’s an aspect here that talks about your learning to rectify your bad karma (negatively polarised Soul bond) from those previous incarnations~

how they treasure you – 7 of Cups Rx

To them, there’s something inexplicably dreamy about you. Maybe because of your Soul’s origins being extra-terrestrial. -Obvi, you feel this way about them, too.- They’re attracted to you because you’re different from most other Humans, and that, validates them. They see a friend in you—like, whoa, there’s someone else just as strange as me! That’s the one!

To them, you’re a precious gem that must be treated with care. Obviously, it’s because the divinity within them recognises the divinity within you. The way you’re bonded on Earth is mega soul-based and it is wise and beyond the comprehension of most Humans. From within their subconscious, they madly respect you. But also, quite inexplicably, they feel a sense of competition with you…

Like mentioned in the beginning, you two might have many sextiles in your synastry chart (or composite for that matter), and this typically means your Souls are meant to excite, inspire, and motivate each other. Of course, sextiles are not without their challenges, but this also indicates a dynamic relationship blessed with little to no boringness.

And this is precisely why they respect and treasure you immensely: no one else moves them the way you do. Move as in, really, you move them towards achieving great things, honey.

how you cherish them – King of Wands Rx

First of all, you see the King—the mega successful person—they’re meant to be in this lifetime. You see all of that potential and you’re drawn to that energy, charisma, as well as enigma—because they’re like a King of the shadows. Man or woman, this is an off-beat individual that challenges conventions. Heck, your Destined Person may dwell in the darker aspects of society, ngl lol

Be that as it may, you see the good in them. Even if what they do professionally may be rather odd… even bad in the eye of society (or in the eye of you), there’s a divinity within that you recognise. You value that because that’s associated with bravery. They’re not a bad person, but they’re not afraid to do what needs to be done to stand their ground.

This, eventually enough, inspires yourself to achieve that plateau of greatness. You see their King energy because this is also YOU. Their sheer existence moves you toward your self-actualisation, too. I’m also seeing many of you feel threatened by the darkness and badness of this world, and this is a person who’s comfortable in the dark, knows how to navigate the dark, and they… make you feel SAFE. That’s so HOT!

Soul Story of Your Dharma🔻🧡

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[tobi-smp]

no but like

technoblade approached tommy at the beginning of his exile to hint about them forming an alliance. he knew that tommy was vulnerable (Specifically because he'd been pushed out by his friends), and he saw it as an opportunity to pull tommy to his side while he was still in supposed retirement. the only reason why he didn't act on it at that point was because tommy still had Hope that he could fix his situation on his own.

techno swooped in on tommy the moment it became apparent that tommy was in too much trouble to help himself. tommy Refused to work with techno Explicitly because he didn't want to hurt tubbo and he didn't want to destroy l'manberg, the literal only goals that techno had. and techno reeled him in both by Lying (insisting that they'd only do Minor Terrorism and nothing else) and by telling tommy that he'd never be able to face dream by himself. that he wasn't strong enough, that he Needed techno.

techno pulled tommy in knowing without a shadow of a doubt that their morals were different, their beliefs were different, their goals were different, and that tommy Could Not Want What He Wanted on a moral level. and yet he was not only surprised but Angry when tommy refused to do what he wanted.

in essence, techno waited until tommy was vulnerable and then formed an alliance with him with the express purpose of Altering tommy's morals. he encouraged tommy to lash out, to cause violence and destruction, to hurt people, and when he felt like tommy was sufficiently Angry he told tommy the truth. he tried to convince tommy that all of his friends wronged him, that they weren't good people, and that getting revenge on them would fix everything wrong with the server.

he recognized that tommy was vulnerable, that he was isolated, and he used it as an opportunity to sell tommy on his beliefs despite being fully aware that they're fundamentally at odds. and he felt like this was such a complete inevitability, that he was Owed tommy's beliefs after the work he'd put in for it, that it Not Working was betrayal on tommy's part that he was allowed to lash out over.

and I'm looking back at pogtopia, and it was literally exactly the same.

techno had no investment in the server, he has no investment in l'manberg. it's been over a year and he still doesn't even know the basic history of it.

but he knew that wilbur and tommy had just been thrust out of the country they'd founded, that they were Vulnerable, that they needed help. and so he offered that help, he Offered to be the muscle that they didn't have.

and when they'd said that they were going to take it back? when they'd said that l'manberg was Theirs and wilbur was going to be president again? techno ignored it, he didn't say a damn thing. because he already knew that he was going to try to convince them otherwise. he already felt Entitled to the idea that they were going to wipe manberg off the map.

technoblade joined pogtopia because their vulnerability was Convenient. because the fact that they needed him meant that they were open to being fed his beliefs.

that's why techno always blamed tommy for new l'manberg despite wilbur appointing tubbo. because wilbur had enabled the destruction that techno wanted (wilbur's suicidal paranoid death spiral was awfully convenient for techno actually), while tommy had held firm in his beliefs the entire time. tommy had tried to be Stability, he'd tried to be Hope, he tried to be the Moral Compass. he stood up to techno and he tried to get through to wilbur and in the end everyone still Believed enough to rebuild. wilbur gave the word but tommy gave the Strength.

techno hated tommy because he was the "hero" that kept everyone resistant to techno's brand of angry anarchy that insists violence and revenge as the first course of action.

tommy was the traitor for holding firm in his beliefs, and wilbur was "insane" because his resolve had crumbled (because he said out loud the things that techno only did through actions).

and you see it again, with techno inviting ranboo to stay with him after dream ousted him as a traitor in front of everyone and techno destroyed his home. with nowhere left to go and (from techno's perspective) no one left to trust ranboo was corralled into techno's inner circle to eventually join the syndicate.

and Again, techno's actions directly lead to niki losing all of her faith (encouraging wilbur to destroy l'manberg on the 16th, partnering with dream on both the 16th and on doomsday), and technoblade pulled her into the syndicate.

And Again. techno lets dream out of prison and gets the syndicate involved. tubbo's child is kidnapped and ranboo is arrested to try to control the syndicate (to prevent dream's escape) and ranboo is killed in the break out. techno then teams up with tubbo to leave sam to starve to death in the prison and techno invites tubbo to the anarchist commune.

it's a pattern of behavior that started with pogtopia and is Still Going. you can argue about whether or not techno's Intentions are good (if he's doing this because he genuinely thinks that everyone would live better lives if they just believed what he believed or if he's doing it solely to get what he wants), but the fact still remains that it's both blatantly opportunistic and that failure to bend to his beliefs is punished with violence.

and technoblade wants to say that He was taken advantage of? that it was the pogtopians that were using Him because they refused to bend when he joined with express purpose of using their vulnerability as an excuse to try to change their beliefs?

pogtopia didn't treat technoblade like a weapon, technoblade treated the pogtopians like they owed their beliefs in exchange for safety