#how we will be received and how we shall end. these things don’t change. you can change your clothes change your hairstyle

[eye-of-yelough]

6, 34

6. Why did you do that?

- For shits, giggles and devotion to The Bit. Observe:

34. Is there a song you know off by heart?

Regular human answer: yes of course, multiple.

Bragging answer: this one.

[leclercstars]

save a horse.

dodge mason x reader

Summary: You're annoyed about getting paired with Dodge for a group project. He's quiet, cold, and you find nothing about him appealing (at least, that's what you're telling yourself.) Things start to take a turn when you end up having to work on the project in his bedroom, and suddenly, Dodge becomes the teacher.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+! protected sex, slight daddy kink, dom!dodge, nipple play

author's note: you all asked and you shall receive! god i love dodge mason (and you should too.)

“And you’ll be with Dodge Mason” the professor said when she got to your name on the class list. You thought you would be able to avoid group projects in community college, but apparently not. Dodge didn’t even shoot you a glance when the professor announced you as partners, so things were surely off to a great start.

He always sat in the very back, head low, kept to himself. He never raised his hand to answer a question or chime in on a discussion, and he always hurried out as soon as the professor dismissed class. You had seen him out at parties on occasion, chatting to one or two other guys in the corner. He looked good at parties, blue jeans and a tight t-shirt was a good uniform for him, especially when he added a cowboy hat. But his mysteriousness was unappealing, you found the whole “brooding cowboy” thing to be more cold and standoffish than sexy.

“Dodge! Dodge!” you chased him out of the classroom. You caught up with him and his expression hardly changed when he saw you. “What time should we meet to work on this?”

“8pm tonight sound fine?” he scrawled his address out on a piece of notebook paper and handed it to you.

“Sure! See ya then!” your cheeriness did not impact his mood, and you scoffed as you headed back to your car.

You did not find Dodge Mason appealing at all, but you found yourself standing in front of your mirror at 7:30 p.m. making sure that your outfit looked good. Your skirt was short, your shirt was tight. Why were you doing this? You kept trying to convince yourself you saw nothing in him, but your mind kept flashing back to the way his arms looked in those t-shirts that fit him so right. You threw on a hoodie so you at least seemed a little more casual.

He answered the door as soon as you knocked, and you walked in to quite a few folks in the dining room.

“Sorry, my sister has friends over. We’ll have to work in my room,” Dodge said as he led you down the hallway.

Why was your heart beating faster? You were just going in there to work, and it's only because you can’t go anywhere else.

His room was just as you expected it to be. Gray walls, navy bed sheets, decorated with rodeo trophies and a couple vintage cigarette ads.

“Neat room,” you said, even though it was boring as hell.

“Thanks.” he sat on one edge of the bed and you sat on the other, it felt like there was miles of distance between you- both physically and mentally at this point. Your legs were crossed tight, as you realized maybe wearing a skirt was not the best outfit choice for doing homework on a bed. The two of you got to work, talking about nothing except the work at hand. You were getting so bored, and your mind started to wander. His concentrated face was unfortunately very attractive, as he bit his lip looking down at the paper. His hands were huge, made evident by how small the pencil looked in them. His t-shirt was once again, tight. Hugging every muscle in his arm. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You took off your hoodie, revealing the crop-top you had on.

“Sorry, all this writing and concentrating is making me hot,” you laughed sheepishly.

“No problem.” Dodge replied plainly, although you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes suddenly scanned your body. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, as they lingered on the curve of your hips and the peaks of your tits, visible over the neckline of your shirt. Your face was getting warmer than the sun.

“I need a break, why don’t you tell me about these trophies?” you shot up and stood by his dresser, desperate to form some sort of connection with this man.

“Alright,” he stayed on the bed. He began explaining each one in pretty great detail. If you couldn’t physically get close to him, at least this was helping you get to know him better. There was a big one from when he was kid that had a particularly funny story to go along with it, and you held the shiny gold cup, facing away from the bed. You didn’t notice the way he slowly got up, coming up behind you and sneaking his hands around your waist. Your breath hitched, the smell of his musky cologne apparent as his neck was mere inches from your face. He turned you around to face him, fingertips never leaving the exposed skin between your shirt and skirt.

You stared up at him, eyes dark and low. It wasn’t his usual uninterested stare. No, this was lust, a throbbing, aching lust. God, he was so tall. You nearly had to tilt your head all the way back to even make eye contact. He cupped your face with both hands and pulled you in, kissing you in a way that you had never been kissed before. It was as if his lips were a key and yours were the lock, they fit perfectly together. His tongue found its way down your throat as his hands started to gently roam, tracing every curve and pausing as he found your ass under the skirt. He cupped your ass and squeezed, hard, earning a moan from you into his mouth. You could feel him smile against your lips as he squeezed again, making you press your body into his. Fuck, his abs were so tight and so defined you could feel them through the fabric. You looked up at him again with pleading eyes and he smirked before leaning right next to your ear.

“You wanna learn how to ride?” he whispered. You knew he was cracking a joke but god it felt so serious in that moment.

“Yes daddy.” you groaned back. Woah. He had never asked you to call him that, and you were not the type to just bust that word out usually.

“Fucking christ I need you so bad,” he hoisted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to the bed. So “daddy” was well received. He flung all the notebooks and paper to the ground with one swipe of his arm. He was holding you up with one arm, giving you a chance to realize how strong he truly was. He tossed you down on the bed, rough but making sure he didn’t hurt you. His shirt came off almost immediately, and you happily helped him undo his belt buckle so you could see more of him. His cock was already throbbing through his boxers, just coaxing you to sit on it. He had already pulled your shirt and skirt off, and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side and taking a moment as you laid there in nothing but a lacy thong.

“Goddamn,” he sighed, grazing his thumbs over your nipples, teasing you and only making you want his cock more. He started applying more pressure, doing gentle circles with his thumbs and pressing his erection between your legs. Your moans were soft as you bucked your hips into him with progressively more force.

“Easy,” he firmly placed his hands on your hips, steadying them and pressing them back down into the mattress. “That’s no way for a good girl like you to behave.”

Suddenly it was Niagara Falls between your thighs.

He kept playing with your nipples, pinching and twisting and flicking, seeing how good it clearly made you feel. He wrapped his hands around your back and flipped you on top of him, quickly pulling down his boxers and exposing his cock, already slick with pre-cum. He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, looking at you as you straddled him.

“You ready baby?” he nearly cooed. You nodded and started to lift yourself up over him, but he decided to take control. His rough hands were planted firmly on the sides of your supple hips, guiding you onto his length. You were soaking wet, but he was so fucking big you could still only take half at once without flinching. He held you steady, waiting for you to get used to the feeling of him inside you. You both had locked eyes the moment he grabbed your hips, and neither had dared to look away, drinking in, being intoxicated by every emotion that crossed the other’s face. He slowly moved you down until you were fully sitting on his cock, gasping as the last inch pushed into your walls. Your hands were on his chest as you leaned forward, eyes now shut as you felt how close the two of you had become. Two hours ago he would barely say a word to you, now he was literally inside of you. He started rocking you back and forth, controlling your hips and making you feel so fucking good. Your clit rubbed against his abs as you rode, sparks zapping across your body every time he moved you in just the right way.

You were on top, but Dodge was fully in control. You were completely submitting to his touch, letting his hands do all the work. His body was doing all the talking he hadn’t done earlier, as he purposely thrust his abs up, knowing that was getting you closer and closer to the finish. You were starting to lose it, made completely stupid by how good his cock felt inside you.

“Fuck Dodge-daddy, fuck,” you were so so close, you could feel the orgasm starting to bubble up in your stomach.

Right as you were about to climax, Dodge sat up and leaned in.

“Cum for me good girl,” the thickness of his voice was enough to send you over the edge as you cried out, breaking free of his hands and grinding on him.

“Oh fuck me,” his head rolled back and the feeling of your pussy clenching around his dick was enough to finish him off, pulsating against your walls.

You slid yourself off him and collapsed onto his pillows, resting your head in the crook of his arm.

He started playing with your hair and the two of you just laid in silence, basking in the bliss of the sex you just had.

That was certainly one ride you never wanted to get off.

dividers by @.cafekitsune

[mastermindmiko]

hi,

i’m currently in my bill weasley phase aha

i was wondering if i could have gut wrenching angst and maybe fluff i need something to just cause pain aha

it’s okay if not :)

Hey, I know this is very long overdue but it's finally here! You asked for angst, and angst you shall receive. I hope I did it justice. More (Bill Weasley Fanfiction)

content warnings: none I believe, but lmk, kissing maybe? not edited Pairing: Bill Weasley + fem!reader word count: 9201 (sorta got carried away) Summary: You and Bill were always friends, until there was something more.

a/n: Trying my best to finish all the requests I've got and simply just posting more. Also, I tried this little thing were I did a sort of rhyming (don't want to call it poetry cause that's too big a compliment) to start off the ff, you can sort of see it like a summary maybe too.

It all starts out the same way, with a girl and a boy that meet when they were small then grow until they’re tall. They grasp each other's hands, holding their stance as their friendship solidifies until there’s a shift, a switch, a fully expected change that takes things from where they were to where they are now. 

There were only ever a few things that I cared about; My family, my friends, my future and my Bill. He never fit into neither the first nor the second categories as it was simply just different with him. Living only a few kilometres away from the Weasleys ensured that I spent most of my time with him, and as we both went to Hogwarts it only made me want to sew him to my side even more. 

“Hey, why do the Weasleys call you Honey?” 

“Ummm, it involves an incident where I ended up being a large tub of honey.” I explain as vaguely as I can, still trying to erase the embarrassing story out of my head. Tonks looks at me weirdly before waving her hand, “I don’t even want to know.”

I spent ten years of my life being Bill’s friend, best friend even, watching as his family got bigger and so did he. He developed his interests and I developed mine when all I thought of him was a friend, and none of that changed until-

“Do you think Bill’s hot?” 

Nymphadora- Tonks asked me one day. I look up from my lunch and ask her, “What?” 

“You know Bill- you’re friend, tall, ginger-” 

“I know who Bill is…” I trail off, and I think of what she just asked, now that we were fifteen (practically adults), everyone started falling for people left and right, while I just focused on Quidditch and OWLs. Bill was doing the same as me, we would study together, practise together, there just wasn’t enough time building a future and also doing normal typical teenager stuff. 

“You gotta admit, he’s gotten mighty fit over the summer.” Tonks said, and I looked at the girl who’s two years younger than me disapprovingly. Despite being in different years and houses, we shared the same lunch period. I scold, “Aren’t you a bit too young to be thinking of things like that?” 

“I just call it like I see it.” She replies, and then eyes me up and down with a grin on her face. I blush and push her shoulder. She laughs and I smile a bit myself. There’s a beat then she asks again, “You didn’t answer my question…do you think that Bill’s hot?” 

I look around trying to recall in my memory the most accurate picture of Bill I could conjure up. He’s definitely gotten taller. I remember how I used to be able to ruffle his hair without having to step on my tiptoes- and his hair’s gotten longer, much to Molly’s disapproval. He’s gotten a bit more tan from spending all that time out in the sun, making his freckles more apparent. 

All that time in the sun playing quidditch also changed his physique a bit. His shoulders are broader, his biceps and thighs thicker. Hands are larger and stronger. I recall the last game of the summer, only a few weeks ago, where every member of the Weasley family was playing, Ginny being the referee as she was still very small. I was the beater, as always. Bill was the chaser, and we were on opposite teams. Halfway through the game, two hours in, we were still playing and Bill decided to throw some water over his head, cooling him off. The water soaking his hair, arms and shirt, making it cling to his body-

“You totally think he is!” Tonks exclaims, and brings me out of my daydream. I feel my face flare up and I stutter as I defend myself, “It’s not that, it’s just yes, he’s fit but he’s my friend, so he’s just that, he’s just fit.” 

Tonks is still giving me that cheeky grin when I decide that that’s enough of that interaction, so I stand up, deciding to just stay in class for the next fifteen minutes till class starts. I say, “Well, I gotta go. Bye Tonks.” 

She shakes her head, and waves while I headout of the Great Hall. I pull out a piece of paper from my bag as I look at my schedule, I turn around to move the other way, when I see Potions scrawled up on the parchment. I shiver as I enter the dungeons and hope that Professor Snape doesn’t mind me waiting till class begins, I could prep the cauldron while I wait. 

I walk through the dark silent hallways, hearing the echoes of each step I take. A large hand encompasses my shoulder, and I turn around quickly lifting my wand from my waist band. I point my wand to the face of my attacker and I meet with the grinning face of Bill Weasley. I relax as Bill takes the wand out of my hand and places it inside my belt loop, a normal occurrence, if it weren’t for the fact that his face is close to mine and I notice just how sharp and angular it is. 

“Tonks told me you were heading to class, what are you doing going to potions this early? Snape barely tolerates Gryffindor’s when he has to.” Bill says, and push his hand off my shoulder, and he chuckles. I say, “Snape actually likes me, and don’t act like that when you're practically his favourite.” 

“It’s only cause I’m the best.” He grin, cockily, and he taps his head, pointing towards his brain. I push his shoulder playfully and reply, “Second best.” 

***

The Gryffindor common room fills with the sounds of both Muggle and wizard music. The smell of alcohol and sweat from the mixing bodies encases the area. A muggle born brought a machine that flickers light in different hues of different colours, having the lights bounce off the walls, as people dance in the centre of the room, and the chatter fills. 

I’m standing against some wall, holding a cup of butterbeer that was gathered from an illegal trip to Hogsmeade only a few hours ago after the win for the house. I never did drink much alcohol and especially not during Quidditch season. This was the first year I’ve been able to participate in the parties that Gryffindor house threw, and it was exciting, but much more boring than I expected. 

I’m watching the room, looking around, seeing a young Percy trying to make his way up to the boy’s dormitories as swiftly as he could while carrying two books that are twice the size of his head. Some drunk seventh years, push him, unintentionally, Percy glares at them nonetheless. I move towards him, pushing away the couples that might as well just get a room. I fling my arm around Percy’s shoulder, nod my head towards the stairs. I carry one of the books from him and we walk towards the dormitories. 

He rushes up the stairs as fast as he can as soon as he’s out of the sea of bodies. I call out his name, and despite the loud music, he turns to me, guiltily. I say, “We’ve told you a million times that you can’t stay out this loud, especially after curfew, even if it is to study.” 

“I know, I know…you won’t tell Bill?” Percy asks, lips pursed and ashamed. I sigh and give him the other book back and reply, “Not if you don’t do it again.” 

He grins from ear to ear, large glasses slipping off his nose. He laughs, “Thank you, Honey!” He wastes no second before running up the stairs once again, and I can just barely hear the sounds of the footsteps fade away before I walk away. 

I drink the last bit of the butterbeer in my cup. I go to the opposite side of the room, grimacing as people shove me around. I stand by the drinks table and start to look around for the butterbeer bowl, when I notice a mop of red hair, reaching for the firewhiskey. I shake my head and sneak up behind the unsuspecting Weasley. I reach forward and grab a handful of his hair, and pull him back. 

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Charlie chants, while I pull him by his hair. His hands lift up and try to loosen the grip that my fingers had on his hair. I threaten, “Put the cup down.” 

He frowns but (reluctantly) puts it down. I pull him by his hair once again and push him towards, once again the stairs of the dormitories. The place is quieter there, and I can scold him properly. We reach near the top of the first year boy’s dormitories, and I leave his hair. He rubs his head, and looks at me with a frown.

“What in Merlin’s name did you think you were doing?”  I say, while placing a soft (sort of) slap on the back of his head. He swats my hand away after, and continues to rub his head. He pouts, “Stop ruining my best feature.” 

“No, your best feature is your Quidditch skills, not your stupid hair that needs to be cut.” I scold, and look at him, disappointed. I continue, “What did you think you were during? Trying to drink Firewhiskey of all things!” 

A drunk seventh year passes us and shouts, “Yeah little Weesilie, you should try something lighter for your first time.” 

“Bugger off!” I shout at him, and I turn back to Charlie. I rant, “There’s a reason why people below fifth year aren’t allowed to be at parties and being at parties includes alcohol, so until a few more years, you’re not allowed to have any-” 

“A few more years! I’m fourteen as soon as I hit that big 15 like you and Bill, I’m gonna have some.” Charlie says, and he complains, “All my friends have some, and so do you and Bill, why can’t I? It’s just one year.” 

“A year is a long time, Charlie, and so what if all your friends are doing bad things, doesn’t mean you should to, besides Bill and I don’t even like to drink. Even when you turn 15, you’re not going to be able to drink a lot because you’re a seeker, Charlie!” I reply, and he huffs and folds his arms together. 

“That still doesn’t mean that I won’t try it.” Charlie pouts, and he looks down at the floor. I start to feel a little bad for being too hard on him, so I pull him in for a hug, surprised as to how he’s my height now. I say, “If you want to, you could, but until then, it’s off limits.” 

I smile at him, and ruffle his hair a bit. I pull my hand back then put it back on his hair again, and play with a few locks. His face flushes, and he grins at me when I say, impressed, “You weren’t lying, you definitely have the best hair.” 

“You must be lying because you’ve seen my hair.” Bill interrupts and he walks out of the first year boy’s dorms. Charlie looks at me with a panicked look, and I contemplate if I should tell Bill about what just transpired. I play, “No, I have, Charlie’s hair is just better.” 

Charlie pokes his tongue out at Bill, and I grin, and Bill slaps the back of Charlie’s head. Charlie grimaces and mumbles, “You two really are best friends…” 

“Go on, back to your dorm, now.” I say, and he rushes up the stairs. Bill sits down on the stairs and he pulls me down by his hand. I notice how large his hand is compared to mine. I sit down beside him, on the other side of the steps and he sits opposite to me, backs against the walls of the spiralling staircase. Bill asks, “What was he doing down there?” 

“Got lost, I guess…” I trail off, deciding that Charlie’s learnt his lesson. Bill looks back at the first year dorms, and he explains, “One of Percy’s friends, Oliver, found me and said that he couldn’t find Percy, he was afraid that Percy got trampled or squished by the people at the party-” 

We both laugh, and he continues, “Then a few minutes later, Percy walks in, alright and everything…so, thank you.” 

“Hey, I had nothing to do with it, Percy’s very smart.” I say, keeping Percy’s secret. Bill fiddles with the carpeted floor of the stairs and he replies, “I know you he is, but I also know that you helped, he was out at the library again, just like you helped Charlie.”

I don’t say anything and so, Bill smiles at me, and he says, “You don’t have to take care of them, it’s my responsibility, I can do it myself.” 

“I know you can, but they’re sort of like my little brothers too, so I want to.” I reply, and we sit in the silence for a bit. It was a completely normal moment, Bill and I never felt the need to fill in the silence, but for some reason, he asked, “Does that mean that you think I’m your brother too?” 

The question takes me off guard, and my heart lurches to my throat. My eyes flicker between his, searching for the right answer. Maybe for the first time ever, I find Bill hard to read. I choose to give him the truth, so I think of what that is. I couldn’t classify Bill as a sort of family, but I also don’t know where I would put Bill. I opt for the simple answer , not wanting to think about more. I didn’t even know if there was more. I replied, “No…” 

He shuffles a bit closer and the air is charged between us. I pull my knees together and pull them to my chest, to make way for him to come closer. I brush an annoying lock out of my eyes, not wanting to spend a second not looking at him. He says, abruptly, "You're very handsome…”

He notices what he’s said and he flushes, I let out a small laugh and notice the way his face heats up, and how mine is also red. The contrast between his brownish red freckles and his skin and the way his nose seems to be at a perfect angle, Bill honestly was just so- “You’re pretty too”

He smiles at my comment, and he looks at my eyes, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Why can’t I understand what he’s doing? When have I ever not understood what he’s doing? Ever since Tonks made me realise how drop-dead gorgeous Bill is, I-

“If I’m not your brother, what am I then?” He asks, and he searches my eyes for the answer that I don’t even know myself. He isn’t my friend, it feels wrong to say it, and I don’t know what other thing Bill could be for me, but we’ve been friends for a decade now. I answer, “I don’t know.” 

“Friend?” 

“I don’t know.” I repeat, and I look down at the floor, not being able to stand his piercing blue eyes trained on me anymore. His hand grazes my cheek, pushing the hair behind my ear, the contact makes me shoot up to look at his eyes. It feels different, so much more different than any other look we’ve shared before. He adds, “I don’t know either…” 

His hand cups my cheek, and it feels so much more, but what even is more between Bill and I? He brushes his thumb over my cheekbones, and he leans in. My legs part slightly, so he can shift closer. I didn’t even realise what I’d done till he was only a few centimetres away from my face. He looks at me, searching, and then down to my lips. 

My breath hitches, and I can see his chest heave. My lips part under his gaze, and he leans closer. Maybe this is what more means for us? I don’t know what could happen after but I know this-I lift my hand up to encase his wrist. His eyes flicker back to mine, and I say, “You’re never going to be the same to me after this.” 

“You haven’t been the same to me in a while.” His last words before he gives me one last look before he kisses me. 

***

The summer passed by in a blur where it’s nothing but hazy memories of Bill. It’s not a surprise that I spend most of my summer at the Weasleys with my parents working all around the world. The surprise is the way Bill grasps my hand under the table, and the whispers between us are now sweet not taunts and games. 

He would send me cheeky smiles and flirty grins across the room. He would wake me up in the middle of the night and take me from Ginny’s room so we could go watch the stars outside the Burrow, laying on the grass, just like now…

“I can’t believe that we’re about to go back to Hogwarts in two days.” Bill says, as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me impossibly close to him. Contact has never been unknown between us, but this was entirely new. I run my hands through his long hair, and I sigh, “Yeah, two more years and we’re out of Hogwarts.” 

“Everything will change…” I trail off, scared of what’s to come, when we’re getting real jobs and we’re not sheltered anymore, out to fend for ourselves. Bill looks at me and I can see the stars shine from his eyes, and it’s a mesmerising sight. Bill pecks my lips before saying, “Not us, never us.” 

I smile as he nuzzles his face into my neck, and I wrap my arms around his back. I hope he’s right, I really do hope he is. I don’t know what I could do without Bill. I wonder if his family knows about us, if they feel what’s changed. The only one who does know is poor Percy when he wandered off in the library only to find us snogging in between the bookshelves. 

The other person who knows about us is Charlie but that’s because the boy was smart when it comes to things like these. He noticed the blush on my cheeks first then Bill’s smiles and then one day he dropped his spoon under the table during dinner and he saw our legs intertwined. He didn’t mention it at first until the next day, when he did the same thing on purpose, and he noticed Bill holding my hand. 

He spent the entirety of that week trying to find us doing something. When we were together, he would suddenly burst through the door screaming, ‘AHA!’, and then he’d find us playing cards on the floor. We realised what he was doing early on, but we let him have his fun, until one day, he gave up and burst through the door once again, and said, “Why won’t you guys tell me that you’re dating?” 

I answered first, “Because we aren’t…” 

Bill nodded along, but Charlie looked beyond confused. He questioned us; Do you hold hands? Spend time together? Act all cute and annoying? Kiss each other? Bill replied yes to all of the questions and then Charlie asked us why we weren’t dating already, and I couldn’t help but wonder the same thing as well. 

I run my hands through his hair and I ask, tentatively, “Bill…” 

He hums, and I try to find the courage to ask before it’s all gone and forgotten because I need to know. I try to ask the most dreaded question in the world, in a confident matter like it didn’t matter at all to me what his answer might be, instead I stutter, “I-What are we?” 

He pauses, tenses, a few seconds pass then he lifts his head out of the crook of my neck and he hesitates, “I don’t know.” 

A beat passes, and I press, “I mean, when we go back-to Hogwarts, and some girl asks you out, what will you say?” 

He reaches the hand that was wrapped around my waist and rubs the back of his neck. He replies, “I don’t know.” 

“What if a guy asks me out?” I ask, scanning for answers in his eyes, hoping to elicit a reaction that he would care if he were to share me with someone else, that he’s mine and I am his. He shrugs his shoulders and says, “You’ll just say what you want to say.” 

He puts back his arm around my waist and he puts his face back into the crook of my shoulder. I sigh, unsatisfied with the answer. I place my hands back into his hair and play with the long ginger strands. His breath tickles my neck and he starts planting kisses on my shoulder. He trails them up to my neck and I sigh, contently. He begins to nibble and suckle the skin while I begin to tug on his hair. 

He lowers his hand that’s on my waist, bit by bit till he reaches my butt. He squeezes firmly causing me to gasp and press my hips forward towards him. I feel it, I feel him and Merlin, he’s- His hand trails lower to my thighs and it encourages me to sling my leg around his hip. His mouth moves up to my jaw, and then to my mouth. His tongue slips inside my mouth and he pushes his hips against mine. He groans and I pull away, I ask, “Here?” 

“What if your parents wake up, or someone notices? We can not traumatise someone else like we did with Percy and Charlie-” Bill silences me by pressing his lips against mine and that’s when I feel him start to harden underneath me. I moan as I wrap my legs more firmly around him as I press our hips tightly together. Bill pulls back this time, and he looks over at me, my hair sprawled everywhere and I feel the heat in my face. I press my hands to my cheeks feeling the difference in temperature. I ask, “Is my face red? It feels like it is.” 

Bill smiles and pulls my hands down and kisses me. He replies, “No, it’s perfect.” 

***

Bill Weasley is my first everything, kiss, first time, first whatever this thing was, and first heartbreak even if we technically didn’t stop. I was alright with it, I was because it felt like he was just as into me as I was into him. Just because we didn’t label the thing that we had doesn’t mean that we have to. It’s Bill, and I trust him. 

It was all going alright, more than alright, it was great, there wasn’t a moment that I didn’t spend with him, and I was so sure that I was falling for him, if I hadn’t already. I was on my way to Ancient Runes when I heard Bill’s voice, I perked up, until I heard another female voice with him. I slow down and I overhear the conversation. 

“Do you?” The female voice asks. 

“No, I uh, I don’t.” Bill

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” I can hear the grin in her voice

“Nope, I’m single.” 

I feel my eyes well up and I take a few deep breaths willing them away before deciding that I’m going to be taking a different route, and I end up late to class. The thing that I was worried about happened, and ugh, what am I going to do with myself if he does end up getting a girlfriend and it’s not me? 

I avoided Bill like the plague for a week, the only Weasleys I’m speaking to were Charlie and Percy, but even then it hurt, they looked so much like him. I cried more than I’m proud of, and even when Bill did try to talk to me, I would simply just walk away. 

It’s been exactly a week since I overheard Bill and I’m on my way to ancient runes once more. Someone calls my name, and Edgar Bones walks over to me. I wait for him to catch up and he smiles at me with a boyish grin. Bones asks, “You need a walk to class?” 

“Umm, I’m alright.” I reply, and walk on, but Bones follows. He walks along beside me and says, “Well, I’d like to give you one if you don’t mind.” 

I don’t reply and simply make my way to class, hoping that Bill wouldn’t get the wrong idea seeing me and Bones- wait, why should I care about what Bill thinks? He’s not my boyfriend as he’s made it very clear to some girl. I take Bill out of my mind and walk on. Bones walks beside me, an appropriate distance away. Halfway through the walk he looks towards me and asks, “Would you like me to carry your books?” 

“No, I’m alright.” I reply and adjust my bag over my shoulder and the books that are on my arm. I wonder what he might be doing walking me to class. Over the past six years, we’ve only had a few conversations all involving school or Quidditch. Nonetheless, he reaches over and grabs the books out of my arm, and I mumble a thank you at the kind gesture. 

We reach the door of the class, and I stand there. I look around while noticing Bones shuffling on his feet. I decide to be blunt and ask, “Bones, we’ve talked about four times since we’ve known each other, why are you walking me to class and holding my books?” 

“I-uh, I know this is out of the blue for you, but I-” He cuts himself off and looks around nervously. His gaze falls on something behind me and I look around to see McLaggen giving Bones two thumbs up, I look back at Bones confused and he clears his throat. He asks, “Would you like to go out with me?” 

It’s my turn to look around nervous, and shuffle awkwardly on my feet. I reply, “It’s just that we don’t know each other that well.” 

“I was hoping we’d get to do that over some butterbeer.” He says, and I notice the red tint on his cheeks. The silence is tense. I think it over; Bones is quite fit, and he’s one of the smartest people in Hufflepuff, I’ve heard he’s actually quite kind also. Besides, not like anyone is holding me back anymore. I say, “Sure then.” 

He beams and he raises his hand up in a thumbs up, no doubt to show McLaggen, it’s sort of cute, if you think about it. He plans, “How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at eleven and we’ll head over to the three broomsticks?” 

“That sounds good.” I say, and he grins. He hands me my books back then says quickly, “Well, I’ve got class in two minutes, so I have to run. I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

He breaks off into a run, McLaggen following behind him, and I head inside class. I sit in the middle beside the wall where I usually sit, and think about this date. I don’t like Bones, but most people don’t have feelings for the person that they’re going on a first date with. After the date is when the feelings pop up. It’s actually nice to be asked out, and not to be kissed once everyday when no one’s watching. 

I was getting excited about the prospect, thinking about what to wear, how to style my hair, when Bill walks in. He looks at me with a deep frown and heads off to sit beside someone else. I expected him to try to talk to me like he has in all of our classes, but he didn’t. He stares out the window for the entirety of class, which is unlike him, especially during the class that made him realise that he wanted to be a cursebreaker. 

I take a few notes, more than I usually do without noticing just in case Bill needed some after class. He would do the same when I would doze off during class or when I was sick. The bell rings and I put my books in my bag and sling it over my shoulder, holding a few on my arm. I barely walk out of class when someone pulls on my bag, pulling me back as well. I say, “Hey!” 

“Is it true?” Bill asks, just as I register that it’s him and not someone that I don’t know. His cheeks are flushed, but in the way that makes him seem agitated. I look at him confused and I ask, “What?” 

“You’re going out on a date with Bones? Is it true?” He asks, and I find myself pursing my lips and avoiding to answer. He runs a hand through his hair frustrated, and then continues, “Cause maybe, you didn’t know it was a date? Did you know?” 

“Can we not do this here?” I ask, when I see people stopping walking around and looking at me and Bill instead. A few whispers follow, and Bill grabs my hand to lead me somewhere more crowded. We stand in front of a large window with the sunlight beaming through and it’s near a hidden alcove where no one comes often. The hallway is empty and Bill doesn’t say anything before he sighs and asks, “Are you really?” 

“Yes.” I reply, and I can see his shoulders fall. He takes a few steps closer to me and asks me, “Did you know it was a date?” 

“Yes, I did, I’m not an idiot.” I snap, and his shoulders tense over and his frown deepens. His stance becomes defensive and he folds his arms over his chest. He says, “Bones is a dick, he just uses girls for sex, and he’s a big jerk.” 

“No, he’s not-” 

“He’s mean to his family and he treats his friends badly-” 

“No! He doesn’t, Bill.” I shout, “Stop making him try to seem like a jerk just so I won’t go out with him.” 

He bites his lip and looks away. His chest is heaving and his jaw clenches. I take a step back and I whisper, “You don’t have a say on who I go out with, you’re not my boyfriend.” 

Bill eyes me for a moment, and I try to stand my ground. He sighs, before turning around and leaving in a huff. I can hear his angry footsteps even after he’s out of my line of sight. 

***

The entire time when I’m getting ready to go out on a date, I think of Bill. Bill always said he liked my hair up, so I’m keeping it down. He liked me in red, so I’m wearing blue, anything to keep him out of my head. It’s my first ever date with a guy who might actually want to be my boyfriend instead of Bill who would kiss me and leave. 

10.55

I walk downstairs and decide to wait the last few minutes outside the common room while I wait for Bones. I’m just about at the end of the stairs when Charlie rushes over to me. “Hi, Honey!” 

“Oh, Hi Charlie.” I wave to him while he walks over to me. He smiles and he walks over to me, way too slowly. He reaches me and asks, “What are you doing dressed up so nice?” 

“Nothing much, Charlie.” I reply, not wanting to tell the boy that things with Bill and I are what they are. He looks me up and down, and narrows his eyes at me. He asks, “Are you going out on a date?” 

10.57

“I uh- yeah.” I say, reluctantly. Charlies purses his lips, thinking. He looks at me, confused. He thinks out loud, “That’s weird, Bill told me that he wasn’t going to Hogsmeade today.” 

“I’m not going with Bill.” I say, and Charlie’s face falls and he’s looking at me with those heartbroken puppy eyes. My heart aches, and I can’t stand it much longer. I rush, “I’ll talk to you later, Charlie.” 

10.58

I look up from my watch as I make it to the door of the common room when a small little redhead steps between me and the door. Percy grins up at me, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He holds a book out to me and he asks, “Hey, honey! Could you help me with this potions chapter?” 

“Of course, Percy just when I head back, it’s hogsmeade weekend.” I explain and his smile falls. I wonder why I am breaking all of the young Weasley’s hearts today. Percy asks, “Where are you going at Hogsmeade?” 

“I’m not sure you’d know what I’m talking about Percy, you’ve never been there before.” I reply and look back at my watch. 

10.59

“I still wanna know.” Percy insists, and I reply, “I’m going to this place called ‘the three broomsticks’ where I’m going to have some drinks and stuff like butterbeer.” 

Percy nods his head, looking intrigued. He strokes his chin like an old man deep in thought. He says, “Tell me more about it.” 

“I would love to, Percy and I will, but I have to get going now.” I say, and he frowns, I ruffle his hair and try to soften the blow, “But how about, when I get back, after lunch maybe, we can go to the library and I’ll tell you all about it and I’ll help you with potions.” 

He nodded and then quickly ran back up the stairs…weird. I finally open the door to the common room and I see Bones standing a few feet away from the door. He waves to people in our year as he greets them. 

11.00 

I look at my watch and I smile at his punctuality. He grins when he sees me and I offer a polite smile back. I walked over to him and he met me halfway. He tells me that I look pretty and I tell him the same. He loops our arms together and we walk through the castles to where the carriages are being pulled towards Hogsmeade. We talked a little most of the time but a lot at other times. We sat watching the snowfall on the ground from the window. He tells me his favourite season is spring, I tell him mine is autumn. 

He told me how this is his first date and I told him the same. I can tell that he’s itching to ask Bill and I’m dying for him not to. We drink butterbeer and he offers to pay. We talk about our plans and how he wants to be a healer. I tell him that I’m not sure. He said that it’s okay. I smile at him as he tells me that he loves Potions and he does the same when I talk about Arithmancy. 

When we’re in the carriages heading back when there’s about an hour left till lunch, he tells me he’s had a great time and I tell him the same. He pulls his jacket around my shivering arms, and then leans forward to kiss me. I reciprocate and then he tells me that he wants to hold on to the date a little bit more. 

We hop off the carriage and it takes us the better part of an hour to walk back to the castle ourselves. We talk for most of the time, the other half just listening to the sound of our footsteps on the snow. He trips over a branch on the ground and falls face first into the snow. His face leaves an imprint on the snow and I bend over laughing. He throws a snowball at my face, and that’s when the snow fight begins. 

We fall on the ground when he asks if I like Bill, and dreadidly I say yes. He assures me and tells me that he’s still happy to have known me better. We decide that if he’s ever in need of an Arithmancy tutor that he can come to me, and his door is always open when I need help with potions. 

The date ended and it was a good first date even if it didn’t end with a new romantic prospect.  Lunch is almost over, so I grab a few snacks from the Great Hall before heading over to my dorm to change before meeting up with Percy in the library. Charlie stops me as soon as I enter the common room. 

“I need your help!” Charlie exclaims and I get worried very quickly. He drags me by my hand up the staircase to the boy’s dormitories and I hope that the staircases don’t turn into a slide beneath us. He leads me up and up and up the stairs till we reach the fifth year boy’s dorms. Bill’s dorms. On our way there, he asks, “You said Bill doesn’t like alcohol.” 

“He doesn’t.” I reply and Charlie tuts before he opens the door to Bill’s dorm. I smell the alcohol before I see Bill. He’s lying on the floor, with his hand wrapped around a bottle of Firewhiskey. I hear some tiny sobs before walking over to him, falling to my knees in worry. I wave over to Charlie, motioning for him to leave while I take care of Bill. 

Bill beams when he sees me. His hand reaches over to cup my face, and he stutters, “You’re very very pretty, honey.” 

I press a tiny kiss to his forehead to soothe him, and he closes his eyes in momentary bliss and I can see the tears streaks running from under his eyes and over his cheeks. I lean to grasp the bottle of Firewhiskey from his hand, but he tightens his grip over it. He protests, “No!” 

“Come on, Bill. You don’t even like this thing.” I insist and pry the bottle out of his fingers. I put it away on one of his other roommates' nightstands.  Bill frowns, “I know, I know, I just need it today, just today…” 

He lets out a sob, and I push him up so he can sit upright and rub circles on his back. He leans his head on my shoulder and he holds my hand. He sighs softly and I ask, “Why do you need it today, Bill?” 

“Cause you’re o-on a date.” Bill says, and my heart pounds under my chest. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Bill like this. He rambles, “You went out with someone else, you laughed and you went to the three broomstick, and he kissed you-” 

“Wait, you followed me?” I ask, anger bubbling. Bill notices and he quickly lifts his head from my shoulder and looks at me, eyes wide. I still push a strand of his long hair over his eyes. He grasps my head from his face and he chokes out another sob, “I couldn’t help it, I love you!” 

I gasp, and Bill sobs covering his face with his hands. I look away, feeling my eyes water, why couldn’t he feel those emotions when sober? I blink away the tears and I pull him to my chest, and he wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight that I might fear for my ribs. I pet his head and whisper, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

“You can’t like him, I love you!” Bill repeats and I can’t help but start to let a few tears slip. Bill shouldn’t be spilling anymore thoughts when he’s like this, especially if they might not be true. I say, “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Only if you stay.” Bill says, and I nod my head. I help him up and he falls. He starts tripping over his feet, as I lead him to his bed, the one with the photo of his face on the nightstand beside it. I cover him with a blanket and I move away from him. He grabs a hold of my wrist. I reassure him, “I’m only going to get the trash in, just in case you decide to throw up.” 

He nods, and then lets go of my wrist slowly. I grab the trash bin and a glass of water, and set them both beside him. He grabs me again, and he pulls me on top of him. He smiles when he sees my face. He cups my face and rubs his thumb across my cheekbones. It felt nice, like it wasn’t complicated at all. It felt the same way it did during the summer, and I covered his hand with my own. His smile dropped and he asked, “Why did you have to go away?” 

“What are you talking about, Bill?” 

“You haven’t talked to me in a while.” Bill says, and I clear my throat before correcting him, “A week isn’t a while.” 

“A few minutes not talking to you is agony enough.” Bill says, and I sigh. He looks up at me with those bright blue eyes, and his other hand goes to my back, lifting up a slight part of my shirt before settling down on my warm, bare skin. I answer, “You told a girl that you didn’t have a girlfriend.” 

He frowns and purses his lips, thoughts travelling throw them, slower than they would if he were sober. The pieces joining together before his lips part in astonishment. He asks, “You want to be my girlfriend?” 

It takes me a moment. I didn’t know at first, but the feeling of it, of having him call me his, kissing him whenever I can. I still don’t think that would be enough, I want more, so much more than just that. I reply, “I want to be more than that with you Bill.” 

“How?” 

“I don’t know.” 

***

“We’re just so proud of Bill for taking this step forward.” Molly gushes about Bill to me. We’re all sitting at the dinner table just a month into the summer before our seventh and final year. The Gred and Forge, Ginny and Ron are on one side of the table. Arthur sits at the head at the table Charlie opposite to him while Molly sits next to Bill who sits next to me. 

None of the kids care about the conversation, just eating little chicken nuggets and some fries with chocolate milkshakes, playing with each other. As Fred and George tell eachother jokes, while Ron munches on his food. Ginny just plays with her hair trying to braid tiny strands of it without looking. 

Charlie is just rolling her eyes at how much Molly is gushing about Bill, while Bill flushes trying to get her to stop, embarrassed. Arthur is making sure that Fred and George don’t set the table on fire, due to previous experiences. Molly says one thing that peaks my interest, “I mean taking an internship that could lead to a job in Egypt, obviously he’ll visit a lot-” 

“What internship?” I cut Molly off asking, tense, and the table went silent. I look at Bill questioningly. Bill swallows his last bit of food before turning to look at me. Molly exclaims, “Oh, I’ve said something wrong, Haven’t I? I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s alright, Molly.” I reassure her from behind Bill, while he pets his mother’s arm. Bill clears his throat and looks at me explaining, “I didn’t take it, I still have to get accepted.” 

“In Egypt?” I ask, frowning at the far off place, in an entirely different continent. He says softly, “Yeah.” 

“It’s a curse breaking internship, and who knows maybe I’ll be working there around tombs and mummies and-” Bill explains, and I question, “And you’re just going?” 

“If I get accepted-” 

“And you’re gonna leave.” I point out, and he looks around awkwardly as Ginny starts asking Arthur where Bill is going and why he’s leaving. Molly and Aurthur usher everyone out of the dinning area just leaving Bill and I there. We sit in silence, and I don’t know where to even start. Don’t go, stay. How could you leave? I start, “Were you going to tell me about this?” 

“I didn’t want to tell you before I got it, would’ve been a lot of worry for nothing.” Bill says, and I turn around my chair to face him. He does the same. Our knees touching and legs intertwined. I ask, “And if you get it?” 

I wait for his answer as he looks down at the ground and I put my hand out grabbing his hand in mine. I play with his hand with both of mine and I place it on my lap. HE stays silent and I ask, “Would you go?”

“I-I don’t know, probably.” Bill says, and I feel pieces of my heart start to crack off. My hold on his hand tightens and I question, “What about your family? I’m sure Molly needs a helping hand around here. Charlie and Percy need their older brother, Who’s gonna keep Fred and George in line? Ron looks up to you, and Ginny loves you so much-” 

Bill cuts me off with a strong kiss on my lips while his hand encases my face. It’s the first one in a while and I relish in it. When Bill woke up after my date, he couldn’t remember anything but through a heated discussion we decided to take a few steps back. He was just my friend again. I hold his face in between my hands, and I whisper softly, “I need you to stay.” 

Bill places some more kisses onto my face and he hugs me tightly. I pull him closer, and think of how he could go. Go and be so far away. I ask from the crook of his neck, “How long would this internship be?” 

“A year.” 

“That’s not a long time…” I convince myself and him. He grabs my waist tighter and he says, “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure that I won’t get it.” 

But he did. 

***

After a year of not seeing Bill, my first year working as the new professor of Arithmancy at Hogwarts, I might as well be jumping off the walls, bursting from excitement just to see him again. We had spent our seventh year in agony waiting to see if he got the internship or not, and when he did, I spent the last of the year, holding onto him until he had to leave. 

He didn’t kiss me once that year, except when we were on the train for the last time, heading back to platform 9 ¾ . We stayed as we were, except I stayed true to my word. I couldn’t see him as simply my friend anymore. Whenever he hugged me I wanted to savour that feeling forever. When he talked I wished I could listen to him talk forever and have those lips on mine. When he held Ginny and played with her hair, braiding it, I couldn’t help but picture a future like this, with him. 

When he came back, flew in through the Floo network from the ministry, I wasted no second in running towards him and wrapping my arms around his neck. The sounds of his siblings cheer loudly and they push me aside to hug their brother, and I chuckle at their love for him.

He flicks Fred and George’s hair telling them to stop getting so tall or they might catch up to him. He tells Ginny that she’s still as beautiful as ever, and for Ron to set up the wizarding chess board for a game later tonight. He asks Percy to get all his books ready so he can tell him an in depth description about all of them, and for Charlie to start stretching so he can beat his ass in quidditch. All the while, he shoots me looks from over their shoulders. 

Molly kisses her son and scolds him for not writing more often, he tells her that there simply wasn’t enough time, and then Molly, ushers everyone out. I stare at Bill and notice how his arms got larger and he became more chiselled (if possible), I point to the most notable difference. I point to his hair that’s currently in a low bun, making him look so very handsome. I ask, “You grew your hair.” 

“Yeah, Mom’s already begged me to cut it twice already.” He chuckles, and I take a few steps forwards towards him. I hug him and put my arms around his neck, and he moves his head to kiss me instead. Kissing me hard, and passionately. It takes me by surprise and I gasp, “Bill, what?” 

I don’t get a chance as his lips are back on mine, kissing me harder. I chuckle at his intent, and he wraps his arms around me. Our chests pressed against each other. I breathe him in deeply, and I realise how much I missed him. Every little thing about him too. I pull away to breathe and Bill chases after my lips. That’s when I realise something’s wrong. He’s kissing me because he needs to, he’s holding onto me. 

“They’ve given me the job full time-” Bill says and I immediately frown. I start, “I-” 

He cuts me off with another powerful kiss and another few seconds of silence where I can hear my heartbeats in my ears due to the lack of oxygen. It felt so blissful despite the ache in my chest because of the lack of air and Bill’s words. Bill starts, “They want me to take the job and move their full time-” 

“Bill-” 

“But I won’t go, if you ask me to stay.” Bill finishes, and I’m struck by his words. He pecks my lips once more, and I’m left reeling with all this information. I smile, bittersweetly, “You got your dream job…” 

“But it’s so far away.” I say, and he nods his head. He pulls my hands in his and he can already feel where I’m going with this. He rants, “You asked me what we are, and I said I don’t know, I never knew, but now I do.” 

“You can’t turn down your dream-” 

“I know now, I know that I want you, and that I love you, and if you tell me to stay I will. I’ll stay, just tell me to. Tell me that you’ll be mine.” Bill says and he lifts his hands to cup my face, looking at me as if I was the most precious thing in his life, but I’m not. He says, “I never wanted to tell you because I was an idiot, an idiot who was scared that you didn’t want him, an idiot who thought that he would lose you, if he told you he loved you.” 

I counter, “This is your dream, Bill. Your future, what you’ve always wanted-”

“No, you’re my future and I’m sorry that I didn’t know it before, but I do know. Ask me to stay, please.” he begs, and I pull his hands down. I look at him cause this might just be one of the few times that I’m going to see him for a long time. I’ve long had the image of his face pressed into my mind. I need to make sure that it withstands the test of time. I reason, “I-I’m not going to make this decision for you by asking you to stay, you might regret as time goes on-” 

“I can never regret you.” 

“I’m not going to stand in the way of this opportunity for you…you need to make it by yourself. And I’ve always been yours…” I trail off, and press a kiss on his lips. He looks at me dejected and helpless. I say, “Now, let’s go back in, your family’s waiting for you.”

***

Bill’s heading to the ministry any second now to head to the Floo network so he can go to Egypt. His family is going with him, so they can watch him Floo away, and they asked me to come, but I couldn’t because seeing his face before he goes, I might do something stupid like ask him to stay just for me, or maybe go to Egypt right with him. 

Molly said she’d come and see me after, they all will definitely be in need of a hug, especially Ginny who’s not going to bear being the only one at the Burrow anymore. I prepared a lot of food for everyone to come and get while they all cope with having Bill move away. I’m not sure I’ve copped myself, I don’t think I ever will. 

Knocks echo on my door, and I wave my wand pulling the food out on the table that I’ve arranged mishapely to gather enough chairs for the entire family. I arrange a few more things with the flick of my wand and I realise that I’ve forgotten the cups. I head over to the cupboard, and I flick my wand over to the door, making it fly open. 

“Just let yourself in Molly, I’m just putting down the cups!” I pull out eight cups and I hold them in my arms haphazardly, I make my way to the table and start arranging them. I put down all the cups, until there’s two left- “I’m not Molly.” 

I looked over my shoulder to where Bill was standing, bags at hand. He smiles at me and I smile back. I look at the clock, and I say, “Couldn’t do without a goodbye? But you’ll miss your Floo time, and you have to go where you’re supposed to-” 

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” Bill says, and my bittersweet smile drops. I look at him questioningly. He couldn’t possibly mean- He answers my thoughts, “I’m not going.” 

He sets his bags down and I put the last two cups randomly on the table. I fiddle with my fingers anxiously. I say, “I don’t want you to throw away your dream for me.” 

“It’s more like picking one dream over the other.” Bill says, still standing by the door. He continues, “I want to be a cursebreaker, and I still can be here in England, but I can’t have the life I always wanted with you if I’m miles away, and that’s what I want more than anything.” 

It’s the last of the confirmation that I need before heading over to him, rushing into his arms, as he finally holds me, and he whispers that he loves me. He kisses me and I forget to brace myself over how dizzy and giddy he makes me, finally as my own.

a/n: hope you liked it!

[stars-interlude]

Even a worm will turn

a/n: YAYYYY FINALL PART (dw all 3 parts are on here so it’s the full story) ngl xiao is kinda a bully at the end of this 😭

pairings: prince!xiao X princess!reader

Tags: medieval, Fem!reader, oral fem receiving, dom to sub reader

symbiosis; having an arranged marriage was something you’ve been dreading for years as a princess then you see the man your supposed to make new heirs with and could he really be that bad?

It was a bitter day for the bride as you stood next to your soon-be husband. You could feel her father's glare burning on your back, a sharp reminder of the fate that was chosen for you. The prince seemed like a handsome man, but it was all too easy to see the anguish in his heart, like a storm brewing far on the horizon. As the tension in the air rises you couldn’t help but feel like you were about to be pushed off a cliff by your father after your vows were exchnaged. Falling into a deep darkness “Xiao do you take [name] as your wife to live together in holy matrimony to love her, honor her, comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all other, for as long as you both shall live?” Xiao responded swiftly “I do” the Notary soon said the somewhat similar words to you but none of it really mattered because you never loved Xiao.. Soon after the Wedding you talk to your father “I never wanted to do this! tell me why father, why did i have to marry this prince?!” “My dear do not fret you will not be in this God forsaken marriage for long, we just need you to make the prince open up and while your in his kingdom you’ll get his father’s warfare plans and we can destroy their kingdom.” When you heard this plan come out your father’s mouth you were in a way shocked. Not only were you allies with this kingdom so it made no sense why your father would try to hurt them but looking at the riches and power in the palm of your hand was just… you were thinking of a word.. It was just exhilarating.

———————————————————————

Of course you agreed to your father but this plan was easier said than done. “Oh Xiao shall we go to your kingdom? I would love to see the customs there” First you had to find a reason to be in your husband’s palace in the first place. “Hm.. It doesn’t take much long just a few hours or so. So I don’t see why not.” Packing your stuff with Xiao was quite easy you only brought a few changes of clothes, a night gown and undergarments of course. As you stepped in the carriage with your husband you thought of your mother she taught you many things like how to cook some foods and many other things but your favorite food thing she taught you was common phrases “Even a worm will turn. It’s an expression used to convey the message that even the meekest or most docile of creatures will retaliate or seek revenge if pushed too far. Now if someone pushes you, you can always tell me and i’ll have them dealt with.” Your mother kissed your forehead and went back to showing you how to cook. The carriage came to a sudden stop, you were so engrossed in thought that it made you forget about how long this trip was supposed to take. “Darling shall we go?” Xiao asked “we shall” you chuckled to yourself. Xiao then helped you out as you took his hand and looked into his eyes you felt something spark within but you didn’t know what it was. Was it love.. No it can’t be. you thought to yourself.

———————————————————————

When you went into the palace of Xiao’s kingdom it was as luxurious as you thought it would be. Artwork on the walls it was anything you could’ve dreamed of. “This will be your room” Xiao then showed you a beautiful bedroom “wouldn’t we be sleeping together?” Xiao’s cheeks turned a bright pink “well i suppose so” you put on a smile and gave Xiao a kiss on the cheek making him more flustered than he already was. “We are married after all” after you got into your night gown you saw xiao and he looked better than you thought his hair falling on his face beautifully and the pajamas he was wearing fit just right. “Xiao.. you look perfect” he looked at you like you said something out the ordinary “As do you..?” He said this more like a question than a statement. You then walked closer to him “well yesterday was our wedding night but we didn’t do much how about you make it up to me.. what do you think hun?”

———————————————————————

you walked closer to you husband then you already were, then you pulled him into a deep kiss as the kiss got deeper he pulled you into his lap. you could feel his cock getting harder under your cunt as you two kissed n’ grinded, he placed his hands on your hips “getting bold, are we?” you said after feeling his hands. he kissed down your neck and his hand slowly moved up your nightgown feeling your chest and pulling at your nipples. you let out a soft moan “xiao..” Xiao's lips curved into a smirk as he heard you moan his name. He continued placing kisses down your neck, his hands roaming your body "You like that?" he whispered against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “mhmm love it” you could feel yourself slipping away from your dominant attitude. “you always act so tough, i know you’re soft on the inside” Xiao said this as he gripped your hips tighter enough to bruise later. He picked you up bridal style and placed you on the bed you two were supposed to share for the night. instead of his hands going up your body he goes down and hooks his finger on the band of your panties, he looks at you before he goes and feels your cunt “so wet from just kissing? how dirty..” you let out a soft whimper “you had so much to say, what happened where’d that bold attitude go?” xiao then pulled down your panties “ ‘m not dirty!” he slipped two fingers in your cunt “if you weren’t dirty you wouldn’t be moving your hips when i thrust my fingers in you” you didn’t even notice that you were moving. you quickly covered your face after he said that. Xiao pulled out his fingers and you felt empty until you felt his breath on your cunt, he kissed your clit before he started fingering your pussy. you gripped onto xiao’s hair cause of the waves of pleasure going through your body. Maybe your father’s plan could wait a little longer..

a/n: i felt like i should quickly finish this before i start doing all the requests i got WHICH IM SOOO HAPPY ABTT TYY FOR ALL OF THEMMMMM

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

how do all the lackadaisy characters react to getting sick/how do the handle the situation. Thanks!! :3c

Lumping these two asks together as they are the same request. Ask and ye shall receive! (A collaborative effort between multiple of our authors as it does involve the whole cast.)

ROCKY

Sick? What do you mean sick. In his over twenty-two years of living thus far he's never been sick once. He has the immune system of a titan, what are you talking about.

Questions he whilst leaning heavily on the bar counter for support lest he is knocked to the ground in a feverish pile by this sudden earthquake that apparently no one else is noticing like seriously you guys shouldn't we evacuate the place?!

In his defense, he's right about one thing: illness seems to avoid him as prevalently and miraculously as death itself. He could get stuck in the rain, take cold mud baths, sleep outside in winter snow, hug someone with Spanish flu, taste the pavement of a rat-infested alley and drink raw sewage and still come out of it all fit as a fiddle.

(Whether he carries anything is a different question, though with the various microorganisms inside him he seems to live in an overwhelmingly peaceful coexistence.)

But every rule has exceptions. And since he frequently does end up in all those situations, when once a millennium he comes down with something it's hard to tell the cause.

How he handles it can be summed up in a short answer of: he doesn't. He refuses to acknowledge it until he's physically incapacitated. If asked about it he keeps insisting that he's fine, a-okay, dandy as can be, never has existed a more invigorated healthy young man on Earth. At best he may invent a perfectly unconvincing excuse, like allergies acting up. (Inside underground caves. In winter. When he's never been allergic to anything in his entire life.)

Aside from perhaps unsuccessfully forbidding him from causing more grievous disturbances than usual, people usually opt to just leave him to it, because once he's set his mind on being "fine" logical reasoning and sound advice are only breath wasted. Ever well-intentioned, Mitzi still tells him to get some rest every now and then, yet keeps stumbling into the boy as he's fumbling through whatever that unresting intent has currently possessed him to be doing.

This wouldn't be such an issue with, say, a cold, because regardless of his masochistic eagerness for activity it inevitably does pass, but if it's something that necessitates any amount of bedrest... well, good luck.

For one he hasn't really a place to rest. I mean... there's the car. No one but Ivy at the Lackadaisy seems to know he technically lives in there, and he's not too enthusiastic to disclose it himself; besides anywhere else actually suitable, like in Mitzi's apartment, he'd just feel like a capital nuisance.

But let's suppose a scenario with the ideal location and someone who cares enough to stick by and ensure he actually does stay put. Shouldering such a responsibility, they must be prepared for a minimum of two things.

For one: he's going to be even more unbearably talkative than usual. Because what else is there left for a restless spirit if the flesh is restrained? Nothing but to complain and lament and versify and prattle on incessantly about whatever comes careening hither along a changeful stream of consciousness. Albeit unwittingly, driving others insane with his aimless rambling is how he keeps himself... well, something.

It's like if his mind had to stop running at maximum speed for just a few minutes it would promptly crash for good. Which, for all we know, may really be the case.

(This is just my two cents, but: I think giving him drawing implements and a coloring book or just plain paper might keep him very nicely occupied, as well as relatively quiet. Be sure to provide plenty of paper though, if you don’t want him to start drawing on other things not meant to be drawn on when the supply runs out like an unsupervised kid... unless you welcome the idea of your walls and furniture being covered in doodles.)

The other, possibly more arduous challenge is keeping him inside the room in the first place. Not understanding nor agreeing with his special treatment largely experienced as imprisonment on his end, he seizes each arising opportunity to attempt to weasel away somehow.

And he's a trained escape artist.

Watch him closely but look away for even a second, and you'll find no trace of him left in the room when you look back. Lock him in there, he'll pick the lock in a pinch - or attempt the window, which depending on the floor number may carry various levels of risk. Tie him down (because you're getting desperate by now) and you're likely to stumble into him minutes later by the front door, having already wriggled his way out. Doesn’t matter which knot was used, he knows most of them by heart. (And even if he didn’t happen to, he’s resourceful enough.)

Like I’ve said before, he perseveres in resisting his confinement for as long as he's capable of moving his limbs around and some vague semblance of coherent thought. Even with his brains cooking with delirium one may have to rescue him as he's crawling along on the floor dragging with him the tangle of blankets he was last left swaddled in, not entirely clear on what direction he's headed but by all means dedicated.

He's not above manipulation either, in order to divert his warden’s attention or make them relinquish his firm supervision rooted in concern for his well-being. Because it's not like he's concerned about it; so why should anyone else be? In addition he's unshakably certain that his role in the Lackadaisy's rumrunning force as well as there in general is absolutely vital and requires that he always be available for employment regardless of if he’s even in a proper state for it. (Just look at the latest comic arc, for crying out loud.)

But psst. Here's a little personal tip, for (Y/N) specifically. If reasonable advice hits deaf ears, and cuffing him to a bedpost yields little results other than another mildly baffling escape attraction, there remains one other thing to try with better chances of success... a more hands-on approach, if you catch my drift.

(Cuddling. I'm talking about cuddling. If you've got a good grip on this string bean of a man he is certainly not going anywhere so long as you're vigilant. Doing so, of course, means risking your own health, which he won't fail to coyly point out either; but he'll otherwise put up minimal resistance and ultimately cave in because God knows he’s touch deprived and doesn't get held enough otherwise. Well, by not enough I mean not at all, ever. But that's exactly why it's a good thing you're here, isn't it?)

Overall, as amusing of a story collection to recount as his commonly absurd ailing escapades might provide later down the line, the fact that they very rarely happen is no doubt for the best. He engages in enough troublesome shenanigans as is.

FRECKLE

Surprisingly pragmatic about it. Yep. He's getting symptoms. Looks like he contracted something.

Best be careful about it... mostly because Nina wouldn't allow him running himself ragged anyhow.

Along with other moral virtues he's had honesty drilled into him from kittenhood. And although it's not always an option in... other matters... he's upfront about how he's feeling physically if not much else, and eventually does come to terms with it. (Once he’s confirmed with certainty that it’s not just the general nauseated feeling he gets whenever he thinks too deeply about his “work” nowadays.)

He doesn't want to infect other people, or incur the stern concern of his mother, so at the very least he stays around the house, doing small, mostly undemanding chores. He's aware it's not expected of him nor recommended, but he has a bit of restlessness to him too.

Mostly because, were it bad enough to confine him to bed in a blanketed bundle of suffering incarnate, all he'd be able to think about is that God's wrath finally caught up with him for being a horrible person and this was part of his rightful punishment. Even worse if he got a nasty fever; it's like he's already burning in Hell.

Distractions may be scarce, but if he's been told off from chores for sneezing on the washing-up or exhausting himself with much too overzealous hammering, he opts to read instead. Over the years he's amassed quite the collection of books, renowned classics and youth literature, and most of them still give off the fluttering remnants of a good kind of nostalgia when flipping through the pages.

And besides, immersing himself in someone else's story is far more pleasant than fretting over his own current predicaments.

Some company, from a safe distance of course, will do him wonders as well. Nina is not the most conversational woman around, and aside from checking on him regularly and ensuring his wellbeing they don't make much meaningful contact.

Rocky likely pops in from time to time however, forever enthused to just run his mouth for as long as allowed, and although he may get a bit too bombastic for Calvin's comparative lack of vitality sometimes he appreciates the distraction more than he's able to express it. And, believe it or not, it's not entirely one-sided either. Rocky has developed a keen sense for his quiet cousin's intent to contribute and will more than gladly listen to what he has to say.

He’ll also forward Ivy’s wishes for Calvin to get well soon as she’s just dying to be able to meet with him at the speakeasy again. (Definitely also attaches a teasing remark or two to the message.) Then he’s eventually ushered out by Nina and as soon as his hasty goodbyes are swallowed by the outdoors Calvin finds himself missing the noise already.

The paralyzed stillness of being sick gets to him a lot more than it shows… seeing as it leaves him a little too alone with his own mind. So he sinks into the comfort of old books until he’s incapacitated by a headache and sore eyes, and diligently rakes those seven leaves that had gathered across the back lawn since he last attended to them two hours before, and lingers outside in the garden until warmer hues overtake a sun-painted sky and the evening chill starts to bite, taking in all things green and alive and in motion to remind himself that he’s not a walking corpse. Not yet, anyway.

Due to his mom’s supervision as well as his own eagerness to follow instructions in order to escape his personal limbo as soon as possible, he does tend to recover fairly fast; and he’s a pretty hardy young lad, thank goodness, so it’s all quite uncommon of an ordeal. In short it’s back to the ol’ grindstone in a jiffy; you know, the kind of grindstone that pulverizes mortal lives and churns out dripping blood.

But hey, best not stop and mull over it too long.

IVY

Oh, it's a nightmare for her.

You mean she can't go out in the evenings anymore? Can't go shopping with friends? Can't procure booze with her criminal coworkers? Can't attend dates with her cute new boyfriend? (Well, those last two are one and the same, really.)

These are all vital activities for a young woman like her to pursue! What else is she supposed to do? Rot in her room and steer clear of all fun whilst everyone else keeps going on with their lives?!

Some flimsy cold is nowhere near enough to keep her away from the beloved Lackadaisy. She can still man the café counter with a little sniffle (taking care to sneeze on no one's food) or look absolutely gorgeous on the dancefloor decked in glimmering pearls and feathers with a slightly paler constitution. But if it's bad enough that she simply must stay put...

During classes the still life of an empty dormitory fills with upbeat contemporary tunes from her bedstand radio as she lies upon crumpled bedsheets, clad in her prettiest pajamas, surrounded by an almost ritualistic circle of tissues and magazines whilst flipping through one of the latter with her legs girlishly dangling in the air. This is likely the scene any visitors are greeted by as well.

She looks like she's coping rather well... until verbal contact ensues and she begins her long string of complaints about how she's feeling utterly miserable. Runny nose, sore throat, grating cough, an unshakable sense of fatigue and she can't even go anywhere! Her classmates are off studying or having fun themselves (as well as deliberately avoiding contact with her for obvious reasons), and she's got nothing to look at but patterned wallpaper and pictures of pretty clothes she currently can't even visit the boutiques for.

But once the grievances are shared she promptly guides the spotlight in their direction, upon which they are to share every last bit of information and news about all most recent ongoings in the world of the healthy. It is a requirement (she will not let them go until they oblige), but also an opportunity; they're welcome to spill the beans on how their week has been and any noteworthy things that happened to them and also to just chat with her about whatever else comes up in the process.

Another way she keeps herself involved with the outside world is through the telephone. The local operator can already tell if she's under the weather by the prevalence of hearing her slightly weathered, juvenile voice squeak for connection to mostly one line throughout the day.

Her calls may also be scheduled to a certain hour so that everyone can come up to Mitzi's office and say hi. That "everyone" overwhelmingly ends up being Rocky, who lingers around there a bit more insistently than usual nearing that time frame and never fails to make his presence known by shouting his own greetings and cheerful encouragements of perseverance into the receiver.

She always asks him about Viktor and Calvin since the former disappointingly refuses to engage with her calls, and the latter doesn't visit because boys aren't allowed in the dormitory... and because he's afraid of catching her sickness. (What a chicken.)

You’d better believe they both get a scolding once she’s recovered for not contacting her at all… though you can’t really stay mad at sheepishly apologetic, babyfaced Freckle McMurray, now can you

Supposing the presence of company who’s emotionally close enough, she may also get clingy in the physical sense. Yes, she knows it’s not very courteous to rub your germs all over someone, but oh, her head is just killing her and she’s exhausted and achy and utterly sick of being sick, hence she desperately needs to rest her chin on someone’s shoulder and latch onto their soft warmth. Really, they brought this upon themselves by daring to enter the sniffly lion cub’s den. Now they’re likely not allowed to move for… let’s say the next two hours. Alternatively, until she has to go to the bathroom or ask them to get her something to drink.

Yes, she’s a bit of a princess; and especially when she’s miserable she may occasionally indulge in showering a willing servant with her various requests. Fetch her this, throw away that, bring hot chocolate and snacks, take out the trash, give her attention. But how could you say no to those big, innocent eyes?

If it’s a schoolmate she will absolutely persuade them to skip their classes for the day and spend time with her instead, offering cuddles and gossip. Forgetting, or ignoring rather, that not everyone can afford to be so lax about their education. Though surely, full-time service as a personal maid slash stuffed animal is making a much better use of their time. She promises to do the same when they inevitably catch the illness themselves, if that’s any consolation.

Nightly adventures and consequent loss of sleep aside, she takes decent care of herself overall, so the understimulating agony of quarantined solitude luckily isn’t something she suffers more of than the average person… albeit that little she’s an expert at suffering luxuriously.

VIKTOR

No, he's not sick, you're just lying. The great, the indomitable, the fierce Viktor Vasco never gets sick.

Denial is definitely a big part of it. He will not admit to getting sick until he's too weak to stand, and even then he'll fight anyone who tries to get him to rest.

The boredom is somehow scarier than actual health concerns. Staying at home and being too ill to do anything except think means he'll think. And thinking leads to a whole load of other things that he doesn't want to get into.

Essentially, getting sick is a liability to everything, from his job to his sense of self.

However, good luck on trying to make him better. He will also stubbornly refuse any help that comes his way, will slam his door in the doctor's face and threaten to tear apart anyone who so much as suggests getting him medicine.

His colleagues from Lackadaisy have taken to asking Mrs Bapka, his neighbour, to administer anything they want to give him themselves (he will draw a line at punching an old woman and fellow Slovakian immigrant), or Ivy (no one can successfully dispose of Ivy and her headstrong attitude. No one.)

The last person he had actually listened to when he was sick was a certain Mordecai Heller. Needless to say, that's not the case anymore.

Maybe that's what really makes him so grumpy and reluctant.

ZIB

His immune system is either rock hard or absolute dogshit, there is no in-between. He can go through a crowd of cats with nasty 'bouts of the flu without catching it, but gets bedridden by something as small as a head cold.

Said wonky immune system may be because he tends to drink stuff cut with the most ridiculous ingredients (radiator fluid, coffin varnish, paint, water, mud, you name it he's probably tasted it)

When he gets laid up, he gets laid up hard (innuendo not intended). He has to drag himself out of bed during the worst parts of it and may not even bother, electing to curl up and shiver/cry from the pain/die where he's comfortable. His band members have to literally drag him out of there on those days and force food down his throat so he doesn't wither away

Goddammit you lanky noodle bitch look after your sick ass don't make everyone do it for you

MORDECAI

He hates falling ill with a passion. It's one of many reasons he drinks tea so often: if he does get sick, it won't hit him so hard.

He tends to try and shrug off small stuff (runny nose, mild to moderate headache, aches and pains) to go to work anyway; but he's no fool. If he really feels icky he'll stay at home and look after himself. As much as he hates to do it, he's only got one body and somebody has to look after it.

The Savoys bash/tease him relentlessly whenever he comes in sick. If the mild headache becomes something worth staying at home for, they'll go as far as to try and visit him (or get him to come to them). Is it guilt about ragging him about it, them missing him or just boredom? Hard to tell with those two.

Serafine once teased about playing as his "mama" and looking after him until he's better. Mordecai, in his sickness-muddled mind, flew off the handle at her...Though all the Savoys saw was him almost break a glass in his paws before telling them flatly to get out.

Neither one realized Serafine had hit a nerve until he refused to let them in for a few days after. Whether it was something about his past or Serafine betraying his trust to get him into her group, they let it go and pretended nothing happened once he was back in action (though there was a noticeably thicker wall between him and them)

SERAFINE/NICODEME

Meet the "clingy" duo.

They don't get sick often and have impressive immune systems, what with their past roaming the swamps and other dangerous conditions, but when they do? Oh boy...

They'll either cling to each other in private, or play it up and annoy a hapless colleague.

And by "hapless colleague", I mean Mordecai—because of course it is.

Sickness is less of an actual, preventive ailment, but rather an excuse to show off some dramatic acting skills.

"Oh, cher, I simply cannot move until you bring me some nice warm tea and chocolate!"

"If I die, tell the world I was warm and safe, because of our dear ami, Heller..."

"For crying out loud, you've both got nothing but a cold."

They'll still play it up.

Just because your nose is stuffy doesn't mean the rest of you has to be.

The show must go on, mon cher.

WICK

He gets sick really, really easily. He stays up late at night often, so he doesn't get much rest and his immunity suffers for it.

(Licking rock walls probably doesn't help with that. Muffinhead (affectionate))

He still does work and goes out when he's sick, which results in papers with shitty writing and his friends urging him to go and rest up, "we can go with you another day".

When he's not thinking straight he'll whine to Lacie about how no one wants to see him when he's sick; ignoring the fact that she's either making him food, putting a cold cloth on his head or literally came by just to say hi to him

He's a bit dim sometimes, but he's a loveable dim.

The easiest way to see how sick he is is to mention putting the work on pause or crack a joke at his expense. If he rapidly objects to not working or good-naturedly shrugs off the joke, it's a small thing, nothing to worry about. If all he has to say in response to not working is "I can't" and he tries to defend himself from the joke (or even worse, agrees with it), he's feeling god-awful.

Lacie tends to hide the alcohol away until he's feeling better. During the week or so he's really feeling foggy this actually works, since in his addled state he can't properly look for them.

MITZI (BONUS since she's been getting a fair bit of attention)

Mitzi doesn't get sick. She becomes inconvenienced.

She's also a real bitch when she's sick. It's less of a slipping mask and more of a "I can't be nice when my brain feels too big for my skull"

She'll still grin and bear it for Rocky. He's positively devoted to her, after all; the least she can do is swallow her nasty remarks and come up with something softer for him.

Some cats swear that she never falls ill or has anything happen to her...Usually because once it does happen she locks herself in her office and won't open the door if you're not Horatio or Viktor.

If another cat somehow gets through her door, can put up with her attitude swings and goes out of their way to help her through her illness, she may very well open up a little and talk to them easier. Something as small as a cup of tea during a ravenous headache will convince the then-bitchy queen that you're not all bad-and later that since you put up with her ravenous insults and still helped her, maybe you're worth swallowing her pride for and confiding in.

[archivalofsins]

You know when I started watching Milgram due to Star. I didn't really think I'd like any of the characters in it.

I was super suspicious of everyone even only knowing the bare minimum. My first instinct isn't to trust people generally regardless of their age. Ultimately, like when I started out, I would have found certain people innocent, but it was mostly due to surface level observations or not knowing enough about them.

I'm kind of happy to have reached the point that i can go I actually wouldn't find any of these people innocent. I actually don't think forgiveness can fix any of them in the same way I wouldn't think it would immediately fix a real person.

Looking at it from the standpoint of an apology and forgiveness can't fix this. Gives me the opportunity to examine how much weight an apology and being forgiven has to me. It allows me to interrogate who an apology and forgiveness is for in general.

My belief is that forgiveness is given as closure for the one who has been offended or hurt. It's ending the pain for them not the one being pardoned.

It won't change how the person who committed the transgression feels about it. Regardless of if the people they committed these acts towards or society at large forgives them.

"I’m still guilty even if the morning comes."/ "I need to be tagged as RED."

Forgiveness isn't something that can be given by the one the offense wasn't towards. An apology can't be received by people who were never offended/hurt to begin with.

It can only reach someone's ears once they know what the offending party did wrong.

"“I’m sorry” won’t reach anyone. I hope it will someday."/ "Hey, what if- If I am a bad girl? Don’t hate me."

Yet people finding out lessens the offenders' chances of being forgiven. Because whoever discovers what happened won't view the offender as a victim anymore.

"You don’t even know yet, and yet."

It's not something most want to receive from people who know nothing about them.

"Am I a bad girl? Please don’t answer."/ "So off the mark, what’s it to you? It’s just absurd. Like really, who do you think you are?"

It's not something that anyone other than the person it's given to can accept and if they don't want it for themselves they're less likely to want it for others.

"Feeling magnanimous? INNOCENT? I’m so not that."-"Just choose the only choice, GUILTY. Say that sympathy is useless. Hate evil as the evil that it is."

Magnanimous Kids Definition 2 Being generous and forgiving.

Sympathy Kids Definition 2 a: the readiness to think or feel alike that makes for a common bond b: readiness to favor or support

It's something people don't have to accept or give once an offense has occurred.

"It’s a tie after saying sorry? What are you hoping for?"

"Even I can say "I'm sorry". Even I have hope."/ "You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please, go ahead and die already. Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?" "Shall we replace the poor soul, and the miserable delusion- “I didn’t mean to offend”, “I won’t do it again” How many wins in a row?"/"I want a reason for judgment execution, I want it. Give me the next target."

It's something that some people can't move on without.

"I won’t stop until you say “sorry”."/ "Tears aren’t enough, no way no how it’s going to end. It’s so hot, so hard to breath, there’s no solace for my heart."

People don't even have to accept when they're not forgiven or their apologies aren't accepted. Others have every right to think that someone is making a big deal out of nothing. That what they did was actually a really small thing and nothing serious.

"I just got a little greedy."-"Is this selfish? This isn’t too much is it?"

"Lick that sin and oppose punishment, until you can meet the king of the masquerade." "Why, hey why, I’m nowhere to be found? So I will NEVER forgive you if this is happening to me even though I’m right."

"So it’s wrong? Oh shove that! INNOCENT, isn’t that right?"-"Come to know me as an honest man, eat your words, gulp them down."

There's no guarantee that even if you tell someone that what they did was wrong that they'll accept it or that the information will even be news to them.

"Giving you love to the point of pulling you down. It’s just because I still get worried, please forgive me."/"Saying I love you but doing what I did, I know I have no right, crossed and covered in sin. My love, it scored an own goal, destroyed my love and me with its weight. Tell me, oh tell me why, can’t I just do it right?"

"My emotions are out of control, that’s inconvenient? I don’t care!"/ "What you trampled is my, “This is how to be in love with you”."

There's something so incredibly human with how all the characters engage with the concept of apologizing or being forgiven. Something that makes them all much more endearing and relatable to me. At the beginning of Milgram I really didn't care for any of the characters here. I thought they were all pretty bad people and were mostly forgiving them based off of personal and surface level judgments.

In the very beginning though I was just uninvolved. I'm the sort that likes minding my business until I have enough information. So, I only voted on Amane trial one. This trial is the first one I've actually participated in voting fully in. It's incredibly easy to get caught up in others pace and the stories they tell about themselves.

Especially under a time crunch. I can't say if I like the characters and my opinion is subject to change next trial but I've very much enjoyed getting to know more about them over the course of Milgram. Along with greatly appreciating how realistically they're all written.

I guess if like was quantified by how willing you would be to be in the same room as a person then I like them all a lot more than when I got into this. They seem decent and on a more fun note incredibly unpredictable. Something that will make trial three very fun.

Hopefully Milgram gets more and more people to interrogate the concepts of apologies and forgiveness. I wonder if trial three will make people question if one really needs to be sorry to be forgiven. Plus considering how the number four is viewed overseas it is kind of funny trial two is ending right before the fourth anniversary of the series. So the intermission will be taking place during that.

[the-himawari]

A3! Outing Event Translation - You're my first and last love. (8/11)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Sakyo: —Everyone’s here now. Alright, let’s start our planning meeting over again. We’re at the stage to start finalizin’ our plan now… anyone got any ideas?

Masumi: …I do.

Sakyo: What is it?

Masumi: …I’d like to do a play.

Sakyo: …

Masumi: …

Sakuya: So you see, I thought about it with him and realized that if we’re considering our fans, then a play is the way to go!

Misumi: I agree! If it’s something we have fun doing, then I’m sure our fans will feel the same way!

Azami: We don’t have much time to prepare, but I’ll take care of the makeup. We’ve done the Mankai Show before, so it’s nothin’ I can’t handle.

Masumi: The other day, you said that my idea was probably something I wanted to do for Director. That was true. The reason I want to do a play is for Director—. But I think I can return my feelings of gratitude to everyone else through my acting which I encountered because of her.

Sakyo: …*Sigh*, as expected.

Troupe members: Huh?

Sakyo: I never said plays weren’t allowed. It’s just that considering the venue and the prep time, we can’t do it the same way as usual. Even so, all the other teams keep sayin’ they wanna do a play too.

Hisoka: Oh really?

Sakyo: Yeah. …At the end of the day, everyone kept sayin’ they love acting. When I told Director, she laughed and said she felt the same way.

Masumi: (…She laughed and said she felt the same way? Then that means back then—.) (…Thank goodness.)

Sakuya: So you mean…!

Sakyo: Right. If it’s MANKAI Company's consensus, then we have no choice but to go for it.

Misumi: Great news! Right, Masumi!

Masumi: Hey! Don’t hug me. It hurts.

Sakyo: …I had a hunch Usui was worried about somethin’. It looks like he was finally able to spit out what he wants to do.

Azami: So he was actually just waitin’ for us to say what he wanted to hear?

Masumi: …Damn him.

Sakyo: What’d you say?

Sakuya: A-Anyways! Now that we’ve decided which direction to go, let’s proceed with our discussion!

Sakyo: Yeah, good idea.

Hisoka: …That’s great, Masumi.

Masumi: …Yeah.

Azami: Guess we gotta let the other teams know.

Misumi: I’m sure everyone’s gonna be glad to hear it.

Masumi: That being said, there’s one more thing I’d like to do.

Sakyo: …?

-pause-

Izumi: …There. It looks like the costumes are good to go. How’s it going over there, Masumi-kun?

Masumi: I’ve gathered all the props.

Izumi: Great. It looks like we’re going to make it in time. By the way. You sure have grown, Masumi-kun.

Masumi: Huh?

Izumi: When we were approached for this White Day event, you were the one who suggested the idea of a thank you event, weren't you?

Masumi: No, well. Sakuya was the one who said he wanted to do it first…

Izumi: That might be true, but you were the one who spoke up about actually going for it. If it were you from the past, then I don’t think you would’ve jumped into action that quickly just because someone else said they wanted to do something.

Masumi: …There's just one thing that will never change though. My primary motivation is all for you.

Izumi: That part of you sure doesn’t waver. But that’s just like you, isn’t it?

Masumi: … (There’s a lot of reasons why I put in so much effort this time. But I'm sure that I couldn’t have tried so hard if it wasn’t for Director.) (That’s why I want to return the favour to you on White Day.) (I’m always receiving so many things. Our upcoming play is just another example.)

Izumi: …I guess this is all we need. Alright. Let’s get going, shall we?

Masumi: You don’t have to carry anything. I’ll take everything over.

Izumi: Hold on now, this is a lot of stuff!

Masumi: (That’s why I’m going to load my feeling for you into my acting again this time.) (One day, I hope these feelings will be conveyed to you. That’s what I’m wishing for.)

---

previous | next

[azlan-snow]

With My Life(Radioapple)

Inspired by @applepartysins Guard Alastor art.

Year One

7 years ago, a sinner was sentenced to an eternal prison due to his tremendous ability upon his arrival to Hell, which caught even the King’s attention. Color Lucifer interested. So much that he decided to summon him. To the palace. When the sinner arrived, his ominous presence looming at the door, causing an unfamiliar darkness to surround the room. As the king approaches, the sinner on the other side becomes more and more impatient. 

“He summons me here, and yet he takes forever to even come and answer the door.. How amusing.” He twirls his microphone cane, and the door opens slowly, revealing the slightly short man, with a smaller apple cane. 

“Welcome, sinner. Follow me, please.” The sinner follows the man down twisting and turning corridors, before reaching a small meeting room. 

“Who might you be, sir?” The sinner stops at a chair, waiting for his host to sit.

“The King, you idiot,” the man exclaims, a taunting tone in his voice.

“You’re the one who invited me here? I expected you to be…taller.” “Shut up and sit. I didn’t summon you here to be insulted.” They sat down in silence before the King speaks.

“I believe you are aware of your sentence, yes?”

“I am. I have taken my time to prepare my contracted souls for my prolonged absence.”

“I have an offer for you, if you’ll accept it.”

“I have the ability to refuse?”

“You do. Take your pick: serve me for 7 years or go to the eternal prison for 7 years.” The sinner ponders this decision with upmost caution, finding the pros and cons between it. A couple minutes passes in silence before the sinner speaks again.

“I will serve you for the seven years, but under some conditions and questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.” The king’s expression was that of annoyance and curiosity, thinking the sinner had rights to make demands. 

“My question is, would I be living here? If so, my condition would be to bring some of my belongings with me.”

“Of course you would be living here. And I don’t care if you bring you stuff with you, as long as you do your job.” He pauses, taking in a large breath and exhaling slowly before continuing. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Yes, we do.” The gentlemen shake on it, a red and green flash of magic spewing from their entwined palms.  

“Excellent! I shall escort you to your room and leave you to get settled!” Lucifer’s tone changing completely startled the sinner, going from dead serious to light and fluffy. The two leave and Lucifer gives the sinner a tour, ending at the sinner’s new quarters. “I’ll leave you to get settled in. Dinner’ll be in a few hours, so be prepared….What’s your name again?”

“Alastor, my King.”

“Well, Alastor, I will see you at dinner, 7:00.”

“Of course.” With the king leaving, Alastor finally examines his room, feeling a bit out of place with somewhere that isn’t his usual resting place, the bayou and forest. The apple wallpaper, gold and red stripes on the carpet, a large closet, and more unfamiliar things. With a snap, he summons sheets for the bed and a familiar looking shadow to apply them. He summons his signature: a cursed radio, for the king to receive at dinner. 

As Alastor walks the halls toward the dining room, he takes in a waft of…sugar. One of his least favorite things. He crinkles his face in disgust before walking in on the king, transporting a breakfast buffet for two onto the table. “Hey Al! You’re early! Sit down, I’ll join you in a moment.” The King’s smile of joy was the opposite of Alastor’s smile of disgust and dislike, but he sat down anyway and smelled something familiar. The King walks out with a large tray of beignets, and the sinner was on the verge of snatching them from the king’s hands, but keeps his composure and waits as the King sits down.

“Dig in!” Lucifer grabs a slice of french toast, a couple pancakes, and some beignets before beginning to eat, while Al simply grabs bacon, sausage, and beignets. As the two eat, they dictate ground rules like when Alastor has to present, places he’s permitted to enter, and when he’s allowed to leave the palace. When they finish, Lucifer presents Alastor with a gift: a royal uniform, which Alastor was surprised by. 

“You’ll be wearing this for your time here. Alright?” 

“I also have something for you, my King.” Alastor places the cursed radio on the table in front of the King and Lucifer examines it with curiosity. 

“A radio?”

“For communication, sir. Anything the radio hears, I will. So if you need me when I am not with you, just say my name.” 

“Ooh. How does that work?”

“If you look at the bottom, you’ll see.”

Lucifer picks it up and flips it over, noticing the cursed rune on the bottom. “You dabble in the dark, huh?”

“Dead and alive, sir.”

“Even on the mortal plane? Impressive.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t call me that or ‘my King’, unless we’re in front of the Sins, understand? Just call me Luci.”

“Of course, Lucifer.” The King laughs heartily, confusing the sinner as to the reason why.

“Speaking of which, I have a meeting with the other sins later, and you’ll be judged. Trust me. Even I am. Make sure you arrive before they get here or as soon as they do. They’ll have your head if you’re late. Got it?”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

“Good. Now go. The meeting’s in an hour.” Alastor gets up to leave when Lucifer calls back to him 

“And take a fucking shower! You smell like shit!”

–

After the red sinner showers, he stares at the suit ensemble and moves to dress himself with it, inspecting it with much intensity, making note of the red flaps, tattered bottoms of the tailcoat, golden fringes on the shoulder pads, gold buttons and buckles, black pants tailored to his figure, and a small, gold pocket watch inside the coat. He ties his hair into a fancy ponytail and exits, heading towards the meeting room per his King’s instructions. Once the King spots him, he gestures to stand by his chair and wait until the meeting starts. Once they all arrive, Lucifer enters and sits down, and is instantly asked a question.

“Who’s the boy toy?” Alastor’s casual radio static screeches loudly at the comment before returning to normal, earning him a glare from the King. 

“He’s not a boy toy, He’s my personal guard and assistant,” the King defends, taking advantage of the situation.

“He lacks lust. I didn’t think anyone was capable of that.” Asmodeus stares Alastor down, shocked and confused. 

“Same here with sloth,” Belphegor states, examining the redhead closely.

“He greatly embodies Wrath. I approve,” Satan exclaims proudly.

“He’s a glutton for sure. It radiates off of him like a bright light,” Bee exclaims.

“A greedy one at that,” Mammon cackles, the clown showing his boisterous side.

“What’s his name?”

“Alastor.” Alastor bows his head towards them, trying to keep his cool and not lash out. 

“A pleasure to be meeting you all. Quite a pleasure.”

“Alastor, these are The Sins: Bee of Gluttony, Asmodeus of Lust, Mammon of Greed, Satan of Wrath, Bel of Sloth, and Leviathan of Envy.” The sins stare at the pair before Asmodeus bursts out in laughter. 

“Luci, little brother! I’m glad you found someone to end your solitude. We were rooting for you.” The king blushes at the statement and stares down at the table, face flushed with embarrassment. 

“Anyways, shall we get this meeting started?” As they discuss, Satan brings up the attacks on his Royal Majesty. 

“You need protection, Lucifer. At least allow me to send guards to the palace.”

“Satan, that’s not necessary. I can protect myself. Plus, that’s Alastor’s job.”

“This sinner isn’t enough to protect you!”

“This sinner just so happens to be the strongest Overlord in Hell. I think he’s strong enough. And that’s the end of that. 

“Yeah, brother. Even I’ve heard of the Radio Demon and his descent to Pride. You should trust Luci.”

“Hell no! A sinner is no match for a Sin! That alone deems him unworthy to serve him!”

The King’s wings and horns sprout, a crown of hellfire encompassing his horns, creating a corrupted pattern along his face and arms. His fingers turn to long, black claws and his eyes, black and gold. His expression stone, with an angered frown to boot. 

“Please cease the arguing, for it is angering my master.” Alastor bows, maintaining his composure. They all look at each other, the king, then Alastor, then burst into roaring laughter. Lucifer looks at them in irritation before finally speaking. 

“Guys. Can we move on?”

“Sorry, Luci.”

“My apologies, my King.”

After that, the conversation pivots with the King’s form returning to a resting state. An hour passes, and the meeting ends, with everyone returning to their respected rings, and the King leaving to continue his work in his workshop, creating a rubber duckie that looks and mimics Alastor, including his shadow tendrils. Alastor on the other hand, broadcast’s his radio show, with the King tuning in. Once the show ends, Al goes out, returning to his sleeping king’s side, bloodied and in pain, placing him on the bed, before falling asleep on the floor next to it. 

“Goodnight, my King.”

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

One Six Zero

Jonah knew what he'd chosen to do.

He also knew he hadn't been chosen.

Spoilers to MAG 160. It's my 160th fic, after all.

AO3

---------------------

2018, 18th October

Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself. 

For a moment, it is my voice, coming from his lips.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen. 

Of course, like all the good advice I’ve given him over the years, he doesn’t listen.

Jon. Jon, Jon, Jon… why do you resist?

You were born for this.

Born for it, even more than I—I chose my god, and though I have teased you about making your own choices, I know the difference. I chose. You were chosen. 

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. 

My name on his lips… my true, real name. Ah!

Ah.

I grip the arms of my seat, here in the Panopticon, in this dessicated but indwelt temple. Jon. You could have been here with me, were you more wise; I, of course, will still receive the Watcher’s Crown, but that is beside the point.

It will be so much harder for you out there, in the world that we have made.

Why does a man seek to destroy the world? 

I didn’t lie. No. Not here, not in my moment of triumph. Yet hearing these words— for immortality and power, to ensure your own happiness —sobers me a bit. Yes, yes, I shall be king of a ruined world, and yes, yes, I shall never die, and those are key.

But those aren’t truly the reason, are they?

Deep down, Jon, Jon, I know you understand me. I know you feel my rage, though you do not know it is mine for it echoes yours too well. Why does a man seek to destroy the world, Jon?

Because it hates him, and so he must hate it back.

I believe there are far more people in this world that would take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them. 

The truth comes out there, I suppose. I beat them because they deserved it. Because they hated me; because many still would, if they knew the body I’d taken, knew this sex was not mine by birth, as if any of them have the right to judge me. Ignorant, infantile, puerile little creatures, slithering through their days with puny fears and cheap desires, never knowing the true glory of being seen, never understanding how good it is to know.

To know everything. Every thought, every emotion. Every hidden little secret, tucked away in the nooks and crannies of the wretched human spirit.

I’ll not bore you with details of my bodies and failures through those intervening years. Suffice to say I kept busy, both planning my own next attempt, and doing my best to stymie those others who tried versions of their own. 

How he wonders! I see him through borrowed eyes, listen to his voice—to your voice, Jon, a voice I have always liked—and again, I wish you could have been here at the end of it all.

Such a fool. A delightful, easily-led fool.

I know you were confused. My dear Jon, so neurodivergent —a term relatively new, but meaning the same thing as changeling, really. You felt things when you talked to me. You felt our singularity—and yes, I use that word correctly—for we are that point at which change becomes uncontrollable and irreversible, affecting all of civilization. 

You felt it when we spoke, away from Daisy or Basira or Tim. Felt that small and quiet place where only you and I stood, and only you and I shared experience, you and I traded feelings. Where only you and I speak this particular language. Not everyone can be a true cleric for the Eye; it is a dumb master, but both keen and gloriously cruel.

And it chose you. It chose you, over me.

For this… that’s all right. I don’t have to be marked by them all. You do.

The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race. 

I didn’t have to be terrorized by everybody. I didn’t have to be seen by every firebug and fortuneteller. But you did, didn’t you? It will be worth it. I will receive my crown, and see all; you will be… the conduit, and everyone will see you in their dreams.

Jon. Jon. Jon. If you had been here, you could have watched, too, with me.

You are a living chronicle of terror. 

I have no pity left to give you. The world stripped mine before menarche.

I watch you in my place of power. Watch you trembling, shaking; sweating heavily, rocking back and forth as if to physically hurl yourself away from the statement in your hands, but your face, Jon… your face! Eyes dilated and unblinking, lips pulled back as if in lust, dark cheeks flushed, hair (still too long for office-work, but I never gave you trouble over it) sticking to your forehead.

Jon. You are beautiful. In the way a strange, mutated frog is beautiful: unique, precious, and meant to be dissected.

I would have done, if you’d been with me here. You would have loved it here. Exposed, revealed to the Eye in ways you could never yet dream.

Oh, well. You preferred good cows.

For all your glory… your beauty, your foolish weirdness, your stubborn loveliness… you’ve made your choice, and so have I.

(And so has the Eye, but we will not think about that now.)

But it left me a gift: for sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to. 

Martin is coming. I see him, Jon; he’s smiling at the sky, and he’s taking pictures of cows on his phone for you. He loves you, you know. With all your flaws.

I comprehend him because I’ve observed him, but I don’t really understand. If you were mine, I’d burn those flaws away. But no, not him, not bumbling deceitful Martin, who smiles his way into your heart and has every intention of putting up with all your—

You are prepared. 

It’s time!

You are ready. 

Yes! Yes! My heart leaps! My own eyes fill, and tingles of raw adrenaline race through my every limb!

You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here. 

I laugh (or sob), with no one to witness, the echoes dying with only the Eye to see.

Don’t worry, John. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made. 

Yes! Jon, it’s time! It’s time! Don’t you see? This will be so beautiful!

Now. Repeat after me. 

I raise my face to the darkness of my tower, my seat rising, the tower shaking, the Panopticon wrenching through the soil of central London like a phallus through virgin flesh, and the irony of this tears more laughter from me even as I expand, change, stretch, rise into the air, and it all

Come to us in your wholeness. 

floods

Come to us in your perfection. 

tears

Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes 

not the crown, I

and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns 

Jon, it’s not the Crown, it

and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies! 

I am become the Pupil of the Eye and I am lost.

Come to us. I… OPEN… THE DOOR! 

And I think

(Barely, my thoughts rise as I rise with my tower and together we pierce the world) 

I think

this

Crown was

(Jon is screaming, and he does not see how beautiful he is with the crown atop his head) 

meant for…

(Jon) 

for you.

Jon!

The world changes, rips, spills its guts into the water of reality and muddies it, impossible to ever be made clean again. I rise. I see. All.

Bliss. Floating. Smearing. All things, every heart, every fear. All of it, too much.

Jon… you should have…

(he is still still screaming) 

Come to me. You still can.

(chosen he was chosen this was meant for him)

I wish you could come to me. We are meant to torment one another for all time. We—

(the crown magnificent and terrible and shining with the light of his new eyes) 

You will come to me.

Look at the sky, Martin. Look at the sky. It’s looking back. 

I am looking back. Jon. I wait for you in the heart of the new world we have made. I wait.

Together, we will see it all.

[yermes]

PAC: 💭

Happiness came to visit me but got lost along the way.

The first thing people do from my old life is ask if I am happy. But to be quite frank I spent so much time in fight or flight I almost don’t know what that means anymore. I feel like I live in between the lines of books fading in and out and sometime we catch an okay vibe and sometimes we catch a fucking god awful vibe. But now I shall ask you a question I have been asked incessantly for the past few months. Are you happy?

Disclaimer: please take what I say with a grain of salt and not as the gospel. I just want to share some ideas of practicing and giving advice using the medium as often as I can with school, work, and my own personal studies and practice. i may work on my podcast today ! Liking and sharing does a lot 🥰

Socials: TipJar | Follow me!

Pick a meme

1 2 3

The cards

Swiftness 🪽

Mercury .1 sag, hod in fire, 8 of wands

Being ruled by both fire and Mercury your happiness will hit you like a bullet in the back with a sudden realization of how to achieve it. But similarly to fire and the flow of the planets it can never truly stay. You may waste a ton of energy trying to pursue happiness rather than taking it as it comes and enjoying it when it arrives for a while.

Art 🍁

Mercury in Virgo, Sagittarius, From Yesod to Tiphareth, Fire

The alchemical process that happens in your brain is constantly in a never ending dance to the stimulus you receive in a daily basis. To achieve happiness you need to dissolve and combine “Solve et coagula” Meaning you need to change before you can add something you cannot yet grasp to the mix

Wealth 💴

10 of disks, Mercury in 3. decan of Virgo, Malkuth through Earth

You have entered a state where this manifestation is possible in a material sense. You may possess all the things that can make you happy but chemically, and spiritually are you ? You may become lazy in other aspects and tried to hoard things that signify the physical manifestation of happiness but it isn’t something you could ever possess.

Extras:

Story/vent:

Im being so fucking lazy with this podcast yall I am so sorry

ALSO A TAROT CARD READING??? WHO IS SHE

[memesfromstuff]

* A FABLE OF GODS: ARIA OF THE ACCURSED (NOVEL) PART TWO.

feel free to change pronouns, wording, etc. as needed! spoilers ahead.

“ And how many times have you miscalculated before?”

“ It was my fault.”

“ You're not allowed inside.”

“ And [name], I expected better of you.”

“ What's that supposed to mean?”

“ I don't appreciate you lying to us.”

“ You just made a big mistake.”

“ He's not worth it.”

“ Listen to me.”

“ We won't be able to [___] if we're arrested.”

“ We'll go figure something else out, okay?”

“ Next time, maybe lead with that.”

“ Calm down.”

“ I have another idea to get us inside.”

“ What's the point?”

“ Do you really believe that?”

“ Then trust me.”

“ So, what are we doing here?”

“ You're breaking the law?!”

“ You will find that some things are worth breaking the law for.”

“ Then shut up and follow me.”

“ What's done is done, and it's on me and me alone.”

“ You did nothing, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“ And you think anyone else will believe that if they find out?”

“ Fine. But when I end up in prison, just remember, I told you it would happen.”

“ Whatever. Now be quiet.”

“ Just follow my lead and act normal.”

“ Do you even know what you're doing?”

“ I have been here before many times, so I know how the place operates.”

“ You've done this before?”

“ Of course you would've been invited.”

“ Speak of the sun and it shall shine.”

“ As it happens, we have something urgent we need to discuss with you.”

“ How did you know?”

“ You expect me to believe no one told you before today?”

“ I don't expect you to believe anything.”

“ As you can imagine, no one else wished to end up with the same reputation as you.”

“ What matters is this; you have my attention. What will you do with it?”

“ I... had to use Arcaion to get out of the situation unharmed.”

“ If it happened like you said, you made the right decision.”

“ I will not fault you for it, nor punish you.”

“ I know. Poor choice of words. I apologize.”

“ If we want to survive this, our only option is to relocate.”

“ I hope your stay here has been satisfactory.”

“ When you spend most of your time at sea among friends, it is easy to forget how to behave in public spaces.”

“ You sure? It didn’t sound fine.”

“ You haven’t finally lost it, have you? Not that I’d blame you.”

“ No, no! I promise I haven’t lost my marbles just yet.”

“ You just let them leave?”

“ Whoa… That’s a huge tip.”

“ Either way, it’s not like you can give it back to him now that he’s gone. You should take it.”

“ I can’t just take it! What if they come back and ask for it?”

“ Then I’ll pay it back for you.”

“ That’s… that’s very sweet of you, but I can’t let you do that.”

“ I know the kind of pay we receive here, and let’s be honest, it’s not a lot.”

“ Maybe I have a second job that pays better.”

“ Take it. I won’t tell anyone.”

“ I… I truly don’t deserve your kindness.”

“ I don’t know, but it must be something big, because no one’s supposed to know about it yet.”

“ Wait. Then how do you know?”

“ I have my ways.”

“ One day you’re going to have to tell me, you know.”

“ Great work? That’s all you have to say?”

“ Surely you haven’t forgotten how stressful it was to practice for the Signía?”

“ Today was a blessing, but… It was just luck.”

“ We keep practically starving ourselves and working ourselves to death.”

“ We can’t keep living like this, you know?”

“ What if we moved?”

“ I don’t… I mean, we can barely afford to live, and you want to move?”

“ Arcaion is legal there.”

“ There’s a reason Arcaion is only permitted in certain circumstances, you know this.”

“ Perhaps Arcaion is not as bad as they make it out to be.”

“ Why do we keep living here and struggle every day, when we could have a much better life elsewhere?”

“ There has to be other options.”

“ Then what do you suggest?”

“ There is someone there. A man who provides payment in exchange for information.”

“ What kind of information?”

“ It pays well.”

“ You’re right. I’m sorry…”

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 4/23

What am I feeling today?

Honestly, I feel guilty for not posting my quiet times lately. I’ve been learning some incredible things and it’s selfish to keep it to myself and also not useful to me if I don’t have it written down anywhere because then I forget! Also, I’m feeling overwhelmed, it’s my last week of the semester and I’m worried about school, the fashion show, and women’s day at my church because they’re all happening within this next week and it’s just a lot on my plate because I want to be able to achieve it all to the best of my ability.

The Prideful Soul’s Guide to Humility

Reality Will Not Change

Man will never succeed in his effort to pull himself up to the level of God, and he certainly will never be in a position where he will be able to look down on God. Cocky, arrogant man may make disparaging comments about God. He may ridicule God. He may prance and strut around as though he is more clever than God. He may boast that he does not need God. He may live as though he is "the master of his fate and the captain of his soul." But one day he will stand in the presence of the righteous and holy God, and he will tremble as he realizes that he was never greater than God. It was all an absurd, fool-hearted and deadly game of pretending. Isaiah describes such a man

Isaiah 14:12-17 NIV

“How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations! You said in your heart, “I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.” But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit. Those who see you stare at you, they ponder your fate: “Is this the man who shook the earth and made kingdoms tremble, the man who made the world a wilderness, who overthrew its cities and would not let his captives go home?””

This ruler that Isaiah is describing once exercised authority over many. So expansive was his power that he fantasized that he could make himself like the Most High. But his glory was short-lived, and he ended up just like the other men in the shame of the grave.

So it will be with every pride. ful soul that does not bow in humility before the God who made him. Nothing man can do will change reality. He is not God. He will never be God. As long as he ignores that truth, his life will be headed for a disastrous conclusion. For God opposes the proud.

James 4:6 NIV

“But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.””

1 Peter 5:5 NIV

“In the same way, you who are younger, submit yourselves to your elders. All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.””

The Truth Sets You Free

Jesus taught, "You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free." Even those who do not acknowledge Jesus as the Christ agree that this is the highest kind of wisdom. Universities place this saying over their doors. Scientists are fiercely committed to finding the truth. Whenever you ask for guidance or counsel, you want to get it from someone who is fully in touch with the truth.

When you make decisions on the most important issues in your life, you need to be in touch with the most central truths of life. The most important truth any of us can ever know is that there is a God, but we are not him. Any confusion about either one of those things gets us into big trouble. There is a great and powerful God who wants a relationship with us and who will use his amazing power to bless our lives, but we are the creatures and he is the Creator. Everything we have, we have from his hand. Have you done some great things? Have you received some recognition for accomplishments? If so, you did those things with the mind and strength God gave you. Without him you would be nothing.

As Paul said to the proud Athenians: “He himself gives all men life and breath and everything else” (Acts 17:25)

The basis for humility, then, is quite simple. Humility is the only thing that makes sense because of how eternal and unchanging and powerful God is and how fading and precarious and dependent we are. Nothing you do in your life will ever change that. People are sometimes humble until they enjoy some great success. What fools we can be! A little success, achieved by the grace of God, does not change the nature of reality. It does not change who you are and who God is.

To live in accordance with the truth, we all need to practice the presence of God. We need to live all the time just as if we were standing in the presence of someone very important because we are. Think of some recent prideful thing you did. Would you have done that if you had been aware that you were standing in the very presence of the holy, righteous and almighty God? Would you have treated your friend the way you did? Would you have treated your spouse the way you did? Would you have taken the credit that you took? Would you have been defensive when corrected?

This is such a good reminder for me because sometimes I don’t think about the fact that everything I do is in the presence of God. I can go about my day ignoring Him sometimes or thinking He’s not around to see certain things but that so blind and ignorant! He’s literally watching me right now and every moment of my life! I need to go about the days of my life acknowledging Him because He’s everywhere!

[drivestraight]

HEYYYY LINEARITY IM DRUNK AF RN BUT JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT IVE BEEN READING YOUR FICS SINCE OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR CAME OUT AND IM SUCH A HUGE FAN!!! Now apologies for the capslock, but seriously you are a fantastic writer and I love everything you’ve written, so now I shall give my frankly irrelevant kudos, and general glazing. Firstly, objects in the mirror is such a great fic series??? but particularly “all to play for”??. like i love how you wrote charles as so determined and desperate for something that he feels like he must. i think he differs from max in that he HAS to win a championship, for his father, for jules and there’s just so many expectations and wants resting on his shoulders but throughout all of this I don’t think he truly knows what he desires. Max is so different, he’s constrained by so many expectations (mostly jos verstappen’s) but he’s completely opposite from charles in that he knows what he wants and I just love the last sentence, the first time i read it i screamed, then couldn’t get it out of my head of literal months. it’s so painfully ambiguous but i think that’s the true wonder of it, you don’t know as the reader if charles gets what he’s been sacrificing for, you don’t know if his bargain was worth it and this just gives me brocedes vibes in the best possible way. I still dream of this fic. NEXT ONTO WINNING MENTALITY, so this was the fic that introduced me to george russell and MAN was it painful in the best way possible. i love the concept of right person (???) WRONG TIME that permeates this like a particularly good syrup on vanilla cake. i just want to wrap russell up in an albon flavored hug but at the end you make it really clear that moving on was the right choice, even when it hurts and WOW this was so well written. man… i love the way you write max so so much. NOW TIME FOR HEART OUT, my absolute favorite slutty max fix GOD max you got to get it together!!! he won’t fix you and he won’t be your daddy please max it’s completely your choice but give poor charles a chance! this is one of the things you read once and can’t bring yourself to touch ever again because it’s so pure. love it. i am so goddamn tired and i’m sorry for ranting in your asks but three more fics to review/die over before i pass out. KITTY CONUNDRUM charles.. you gotta be more careful with packages from people! thankfully max is a cat person indeed (dogboy max when??? haha… unless) also charles trying to make max jealous in such a silly way and SUCCEEDING man charles you’re so adorable, never change. SECOND TO LAST he just turned in like i didn’t exist, OSCARLOS MY MUTUAL PLEASE PLEASE also i think it’s adorable how oscar thinks so clearly, in my mind i just imagine him mentally doing the dialup modem sound whenever he’s confused. NOW FINALLY RIGHT BEFORE I PASS (out! away! both!) YOUR NEWEST FIC OMG I WANTED TO DIE (affectionately) AFTER THAT CAR CRASH OF A RELATIONSHIP OSC YOU CARE BOTH TOO MUCH AND TOO LITTLE AND IT PHYSICALLY HURTS ME TO WATCH YOU. also lando please get your shit together, i know it’s uncharitable for me to say so but ugh m’boy… you deserve the world (and oscar) but back to oscar nooooo i just want to protect him from the world he’s so messed up in the best way and you can see that he’s just rolling with the punches which is working pretty well for him (f1 seat!) but he’s going against verstappen who 1. has a lot less to lose compared to him 2. is much more experienced with avoiding getting hit by consequences (ie. jos verstappen) and it’s gonna be osc who suffers!!! also every single max appearance i just imagined him doing the smug cat face and it cracked me up so much more then it should have. ALRIGHT, I HAVE TO LEAVE, THANK YOU FOR YOUR EXISTENCE AND HAVE A GREAT DAY!

tldr: i’m in love with your writing please marry me we can get twinklaren themed rings

first of all i literally gasped when i received this ask 😭❤️🥹

this response is going to be really really long so it'll go under a cut HAHA; sorry for the few days delay - i really wanted to make sure i did it justice because it was so lovely!

since objects in mirror came out!!! holy crap that's 20 whole months with me... and please it could never be irrelevant... i like all fic writers love compliments 😭 and god yeah... objects in mirror series was so crazy. i really did mean it when i put in the notes of leave no space that it was a labor of love. wasn't even in the f1 fandom/didn't really know anyone on f1blr or who liked f1 except for a handful of people etc, and was just silently writing the fic, and to this day i'm so astounded by the amount of people who like it + are still finding it and reading it and leaving lovely little messages. and god yeah posting this fic was so crazy to me because of the overwhelming instant response of so many many lovely comments. idk how to explain it that well, but the comments on all to play for especially are still something i read through every now and then. they're just very very meaningful and special, like overwhelmingly deep and detailed many of them were, tugged at my heartstrings etc. and the fic itself was just - such a labor that it made me so happy to know it paid off ten fold. thank you to everyone!!

and yeah. yeah. he could even eat a lion. does he?

i often thought about making a pt4 of the series but in all honesty i just really really really love where it all ends, a sort of ambiguity but unambiguity in a way - it all came full circle, and now all that's left is to win - but it was never really about that. i mean, it was all about that, but i guess the idea is that as you go through all the parts the world starts to expand and you start to get to know them as characters who aren't just racing machines, and they get to know each other as that too. with a lot of difficulties along the way and backsliding, especially in pt3. i really honestly don't think i could write a fic/series like objects in mirror again for f1. it was really one of those things you write when you're first getting into something, and sort of learning things along the way. the magic is all new and exciting and you want to get everything down on the page. not to say that i still don't have fun writing, it's just the sort of thing where you can only write certain things at certain levels of familiarity. writing objects in mirror for me was like, my own deep introduction into f1, learning how i loved it and what i loved about max and charles in that moment, etc. so i know i kind of sound like a broken record whenever i talk about it, but i feel honestly so happy that i could share that with an audience, and that people could go along with that hero's journey with me. blah blah blah it was also a part of me processing my own grief about my dad blah blah blah. anyway. no one cares about that part. thank you so much :)

and GOD. yeah man. winning mentality. another fic i was writing in complete silence lmao because i didn't think that Anyone would be interested in george/max fic at that point in time, and still to this day i feel like it's one of the fics i get the most, like, substantial comments on? not to say that there are unsubstantial comments, but the comments i get for winning mentality are usually meatier and more involved and it's so special to me to know that it, like, affected people and shit. a fun fact about that fic is that i almost ended it right before the final confrontation with alex. like i'd had that part written out dialogue-wise for a while but, after the "tell me something real" "i don't think i'm a very good person" part, i'd thought maybe it would be okay if the fic would end there, but BOY am i glad i didn't LOL. everyone seemed to love the "just because it will make a good story doesn't mean it needs to happen line" so much, and i love it a lot too.

girl max au! i had started writing this after i got back from my study abroad in greece (all to play for and winning mentality were the 2 fics i wrote while in greece... maybe my writing quality goes up when i'm in sunshine in a beautiful place near the water lmao. i gotta get out of nyc don't i), in like. highkey a month i don't remember very well... lots of partying and feeling awful the mornings after and writing girlmax was my way to cope with that during the day time LMAOOO. don't eat don't sleep just do it on repeat. and write girlmax during the day. it was so much fun to write, like it was just so much fun overall, and everyone also seemed to really enjoy bad at sex charles and hotgirl max. i love them so much too. i think about them all the time. hope they're doing well with their fat blonde babies

KITTY CHARLES FIC! yeah this fic was just completely fueled by the image of kittyboy charles and catlover max... since this is the latest (almost typed out last...) lestappen fic i've written, i feel like it was kind of, weirdly, the most developed version of them i've published - in that it's when i was most familiar with the dynamics, and it kind of felt like riding a bike. so much to the extent that i could kind of just, like, take it a little further. focus less on Them as individuals, go on automatic, and focus more on their dynamic and what i like about them: the physicality, the impulsiveness, the push and pull, the awkward conversations, the unfamiliarity, the barriers between them, etc. but the grounded understanding that when it matters they know each other better than anyone else. i think it came out quite nicely :)

carcar fic... man you're really hitting all the highlights of my f1 writing career LOL. yeah man. that one was also a big surprise to me. first off in how well it was received (i don't think i'd had a fic that instantly popular since objects in mirror series), and second of all how much fun i had while writing it (i say as if i didn't feel like i was covered in blood and thorns the entire way writing the second half LOL). it was a pleasure so i'm very happy you & many others enjoyed

last but not at all least, landoscar/norstappen fic. yeah man. yeahhh. when i was posting the fic + making my tumblr post about it i was like... i feel like i'm misrepresenting this as a cool fun casual threesome fic when in reality lksjf;lkdsjf man was it an emotional mess between the three of them. oscar cares both too much and too little. you're so right. he deeply deeply cares but he cares so much that he just shoots himself in the foot all the time. won't settle for halves. something i think about a lot in fic is this whole idea of "miscommunication" and "reciprocated feelings." it's a minor quip of mine, when in fic 2 people clearly like each other but they miscommunicate + prolong the getting together for the sole reason of "he doesn't like me back!" obviously i'm not saying that's bad and inherently worse, but i think it's really interesting when you go deeper than that. there's the indecision, and the uncertainty, of course, but there's also the consequences, worries about compatibility, and other things getting in the way, whether that's other people or a championship (re: objects in mirror and winning mentality are two good other examples i think where this was driven home) that might get in the way. i really love the idea of love triangles that aren't classic love triangles. people you have feelings for, maybe not necessarily romantic feelings, but feelings that are still substantial and earth-shattering, that get in the way of your relationships developing with other people. insecurities, being an outsider, hesitation. the physicality of it too, the discrepancy vs what you let on in your head and in your actions, and what you really want, how it's all perceived by other people - like mark said. oscar wants it more than anyone, but if he knew oscar any less, he'd think he didn't want it at all.

and yeah. max was just so funny to me during all of this. of course it's not so simple that he doesn't care about lando/doesn't have any stakes in anything that's happening - he's possessive with lando and casually cruel with oscar, overtly flippant, etc. and that could be explored more BUT ALSO it's just so funny. bro wanted his threesome so bad and was just driving over all of oscar's feelings 💀 me when i'm max verstappen.

ANYWAY. thank you for this lovely lovely ask ❤️

and thank you again HAHA i think it comes down to me hating dragging things out, so i feel like things eventually come to a natural stopping point in my fics, especially because i usually only ever have one "impetus" going on in a fic so they never end up having to be fleshed out for too long before they're resolved.

thank you thank you ahhhh this was such a lovely and special anon to get 🥹🥹🥹

[nuttytani]

Farewell, My Dear Boomer Lord

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Tartaglia | Childe x Zhongli and Xiao x Aether

Premise: Genshin Impact is back with a new addition to their movie franchise, with a talented and an exciting cast. What are you waiting for? Come find out who they are!

A/N: This is a social media au fic, except in text form… Just crossposting it from my ao3 (which you can read it here if you’d like!!) and this is the final chapter :DD

prev chapter

Ch 2 interview and behind the scenes

Spiral Abyss ✓ .  @ abyssalmoon

Farewell Archaic Lord : Zhongli, Aether, Xiao and Ajax talk 

1.9 M views 

Watch now 

—

( The screen brightens up, Xiao, Ajax, Aether and Zhongli can be seen sitting on black studio chairs. They wave at the camera )

Aether

So, how shall we begin ?

Charlotte

Hello hello! Hmm, now that I’m facing all of you, I have no idea what to ask- (looks at the camera sheepishly) 

Ajax (gets ready to leave)

Alright, that’s the end of the interview! Thank you everyone for watching– 

Zhongli (interrupts him by placing a hand on his shoulder and chuckles)

Not so fast, I’m afraid. 

Charlotte 

Very funny, Ajax. We’re not letting you go until all the tea is spilled! 

Hmmm.. Oh right! This reminds me, where is the Liyue trio? I had thought Ms. Ganyu and the others would be attending?

(Charlotte looks somewhere off camera, as if to confirm something. Some rustling and muffled noises of people talking can be heard)

Xiao

Ah yes, unfortunately they got caught up in some other work and couldn’t make it. It was last minute and they couldn’t inform you in time.

Zhongli 

Mmh, that is correct. 

Charlotte 

Awe,how unfortunate! We were quite excited to meet up with the bona fide Liyue Qixing. Next time, I suppose!

Okay, let’s start off now. Who among you guys messed up your dialogues the most? 

(Camera zooms in at Aether’s face, who looks quite embarrassed as everyone stares pointedly at him)

Aether

It was me, ‘m sorry. Are spoilers allowed? 

Xiao 

Obviously, go on. 

Aether 

Ahem so- I might have gotten super annoyed by the side quests that the uhh… Traveler received from Mr. Morax. Such stupid side quests! I felt annoyed on behalf of Traveler, I mean– going all the way to Mondstadt to BOIL A FREAKING STONE? ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?? And then walking all the way back to Liyue. Also, don’t forget about spending absurd amounts of money on FLOWERS– FLOWERS I TELL YOU!

(Aether does the jazz hands to express his frustration. Meanwhile, Zhongli observes bemusedly) 

So I may have said some things extremely off the script and we had to redo scenes. Multiple times. I’m so sorry guys! Blame Morax, he’s the problem. 

Ajax 

Yeah! We basically played “take a shot every time Aether says OH FUCK YOU”. I think it’s best to say we all got drunk, really really bad.

Xiao 

Hmph. You just can't hold your liquor. I was sober, thank you very much. 

Zhongli 

Oh? Really now? Ajax, where did that recording of him singing “My heart will go on” go? He did the entire Titanic ship pose and all.

(The camera zooms in again, now at a very red Xiao, who looks like he’s about to burst. To make it worse, Aether and Ajax are wheezing, trying to hold their laughs in but failing miserably)

Charlotte 

Is that so? I’d love to see that.

Xiao (looks at Zhongli in horror)

NO.

Zhongli 

Aha, so you do remember!

Charlotte 

Sounds like you all had a fun time during the shooting. Any interesting moments that you’d like to share?

Xiao

Oh yes definitely, I’m sure you all remember seeing a clip in which Morax stares at Tartaglia’s butt.

For those wondering, no, it was not part of the script. It was just Zhongli. All him, I swear. 

(Ajax visibly chokes on air and hides his face at Xiao’s comment, grumbling indistinctly) 

Zhongli (clears his throat)

Well I– it wasn’t on purpose… I was… Lost in… thoughts. Yes.

Aether 

Lost in a daydream, you mean to say. 

Charlotte (cackles and almost falls off of her chair)

Interesting! Well, let’s change the subject otherwise a few people might die from embarrassment here. Not that they haven't already. 

We can all agree that the scenes in the movie were absolutely epic! Such a beautiful landscape. And the sunset skies! Was it all CGI or did you all actually go to those gorgeous places? 

Ajax 

It was mostly real, a few things were CGI but honestly you could say 85% of it was the real deal. Acting in these areas was super difficult though. I mean, you can’t really control weather and most of the time, since we did a lot of shooting around mountain areas, it was WINDY and all the hair would keep going in my mouth, the hanfu wouldn’t stay in place… A nightmare honestly. 

Aether 

It wasn’t that bad though. 

Ajax 

Yes, it was that bad and you can’t change my mind! 

Charlotte 

Well Mr. Ajax, despite all your struggles, I must say your acting was superb. You had me gripping the edge of my seat! How thrilling! It’s hard to believe such a bubbly personality such as yours could act as a villain. I’ve heard that the directors saw you and called it.

Ajax 

Oh yeah. Umm, I’m surprised as well! This is my first acting experience honestly and sure, I’ve done concerts with Rosaline and Kabuki, but acting? Way above my paygrade. But they were super adamant I must audition for the role of Tartaglia. Next thing I know, I said a few lines and they picked me. 

Aether 

He was absolutely nuts, I swear. Super in character! Directors made the right choice, he looks and feels like THE living breathing Tartaglia. That one scene where he pulls out his water blades and does the cheeky toothy smile? That was all impromptu, off script. Ajax did all that and he didn't even realise it. 

Charlotte

Impressive! Also back to the hanfu and hair. Oh my god, you all looked stunning! The costumes were gorgeous and the hair! Looked so real.

Zhongli 

Mmhm, the costumes were all designed and made by Menogias. It’s always a pleasure to wear his hanfus, they really take your breath away. 

Xiao 

Yes, and it’s always a pleasant experience too. Which is rare, for such heavily embellished attire. You’d think they’d be heavy and itchy to wear but for some reason, Menogias makes only the best. It feels like you’re wearing pajamas. They're that comfortable. 

Aether

Agreed! Oh and by the way, we actually needed to grow our hair out for this movie. I mean, mainly me, Xiao and Ajax. Since Zhongli does a lot of historical movies and dramas, his hair is almost always long. I’m sure you must have noticed. 

Ajax (nods along) 

Yeah, it was all our hair. We had extensions in a few scenes but it was mostly just… us. Honestly, I didn't think I’d like long hair, since it seems to be quite a hassle to take care of, but I kinda enjoyed it. 

Xiao 

Mmhm. It wasn’t bad. Plus, the kids had fun braiding it. Mostly Qiqi, she’d see us and immediately give us those sparkly puppy dog eyes. She’d have fun braiding and we’d get a free hairstyle so, win win. 

Charlotte 

I can totally imagine the kids having fun, this is giving that tangled scene vibes right now. 

(Someone off camera comes and whispers into Charlotte’s ear and she looks surprised)

Oh dear! Time sure flies when in good company! I didn’t even notice that we’re almost about to go over your schedule. 

Zhongli 

Oh don’t worry about it, we can spare a few more minutes. This has been quite enjoyable. 

Charlotte 

Alright, let’s go through a few more questions then! I’ll go rapid fire speed, alright?

(Everyone says “yes ma'am!”) 

Any scenes that made you feel like you were in actual danger?

Aether 

Oh yeah, that one scene where I had to do the free fall and Xiao caught me. My heart almost jumped out of my chest!!

(The others nod) 

Xiao 

That scene was a bit scary. We had those rope contraption things holding us up, no idea what they’re called. Still, it felt awful. 

Charlotte 

Mhmm, the fans call it the moment “conqueror of demons falls in love with the traveler”. You were both gazing at each other quite intensely. 

Aether 

Trust me, it was the fear of falling. Nothing deep. 

(“Whatever you say bro,” Ajax adds sneakily)

Charlotte 

Any personal favourite scenes?

Zhongli 

Hmm if I had to choose, it’d definitely be the Osial part. From its release and battle, it was all incredible. 

Aether 

Definitely the Osial scene, but also the scene where Morax just sits… while drinking his oolong tea IN THE MIDDLE OF A TSUNAMI.

OH MY GOD. That was insane. Like dude– run for your life– then you remember he’s immortal. And also a bit wrong in the head. Rex Lapis apparently does not know how to behave like a human, even after living for thousands of years.

Ajax 

Oh preach. It was funny as hell. Zhongli came back looking like a wet rat too. 

Xiao 

We all looked like wet rats. Keqing took a picture of it too, she must have posted it somewhere. 

Charlotte

Well now I’m curious! Gotta look into Keqing’s skygram for that, huh? And thank you all for your precious time. I really enjoyed talking with you, it was lovely! 

Aether (grins at Charlotte)

Awee, thanks for having us!

Ajax (waves at the camera)

Let’s hope we meet again for another interview!

Zhongli 

Soon. Hopefully. Thank you, and have a good day everyone. 

Xiao

Mmh, bye. 

(screen fades out for a few seconds as the cast wave at the camera smiling, before you can hear someone talk in the background)

Xiao

Ajax, you better delete that singing video, otherwise you’re dead meat–

Bonus behind the scenes (leaked by yours truly, Keqing <3)

—

[ Attached : a picture of Zhongli, Aether, Ninnguang, Ajax, and Ganyu looking like soaked and pitiful wet rats as they throw up a peace sign at the camera. All looking beyond exhausted ]

Caption : How come I wasn’t invited for that anime beach scene? I feel sad and left out — Keqing:3

—

Aether and Zhongli

“Ah it seems I do not have mora.. Traveler would you be kind enough to–”

“Fuck off, get your fatuus wallet to get you mora.”

“That wasn't part of the script.”

“CUT! AETHER PLEASE, THIS IS THE 4TH TIME IN A ROW.”

“Sorry….”

—

Ajax and Zhongli

“I can't believe I was betrayed by someone whom I thought of as a friend. Was everything just a lie?”

“Hmm.”

“Xiansheng?”

“Hmmm.”

“Hello?? Earth to Zhongli??? Did you just zone out?”

“CUT! Zhongli, you can stare at Ajax’s ass, chest, waist, all you want but later. Please.”

“What–”

—

Xiao and Aether

“Madame Ping gave me a teapot. Umm..”

“Ah yes.. So I heard.”

“I’d like it if you’d come over once, maybe tonight– for dinner y’know?”

“Of course, you just need to call out my name.”

Someone yells off camera

“WHY DON’T YOU JUST STAY FOREVER?”

“Hu Tao, please be quiet!!!”

“Boohoo, I just wanted to do that Mulan scene. You’re no fun, fatui boy.”

“CUTTTTTTTTT!!! You rascals, go away!!! It’s not even your scene right now.”

[voxofthevoid]

I...finished the Kidnapping Fic a few days earlier than I thought I would and started the new fic (Amnesiac Yuuji, which won this poll) just yesterday. Today? Time is soup, and timezones are worse.

Anyway! Amnesia Wednesdays shall now commence! Help me.

I'm still getting a feel for this fic. This week's excerpt is from the prologue, which is the only part that's Yuuji PoV. Have some fluffy kissing to make up for all the Kidnapping Fic fuckery:

Gojou turns around, cocking his head to the side and giving Yuuji a once-over that’s somehow obvious despite the blackout glasses hiding his eyes.

“What’s up with you?” he asks Yuuji. “Tired already? You’re the one who wanted to cook, you know.”

“We’ve been eating out all week,” Yuuji says absently. “Gojou-sensei, I want to…”

The silence that follows Yuuji’s clumsy non-demand feels thick and heavy.

But Gojou smiles, a mild upcurve at the corners of his mouth. It’s a familiar expression, both inviting and indulgent. Yuuji’s been on its receiving end a lot the last few weeks, and now he’s trying to remember if it’s the first time he’s wondered how it would taste on his tongue. Gojou’s mouth almost always looks like it could cut someone, and it does, Yuuji knows, but then there are times like this too, more and more frequent, when it looks like it’d be soft and sweet to the touch.

“What is it, Yuuji?” Gojou asks. “What do you want?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Shock splatters on Gojou’s face, bright and graceless.

And then it’s gone, eaten up by a grin that splits his face.

A part of Yuuji wants to back up; most of him wants to catch that smile with his teeth.

“I don’t know, can you?” Gojou’s voice is a low, deadly murmur. “Come and find out.”

It’s a warning and a challenge, Yuuji can tell, and whatever common sense he’s ever had is screaming, but his feet take him forward, closing the scant few feet between them with sure, steady steps until he’s right in front of Gojou. Yuuji stares up at him, and his body feels like it’s braced for battle.

Gojou’s still grinning, but it’s a little less toothy. Yuuji can see a sliver of blue under his glasses, watching and waiting.

He grabs those broad shoulders with both hands and pushes up on tiptoes to press their lips together.

Warm, fleeting pressure.

Yuuji’s soles meet the ground, harder than they should. His heart’s in his throat, too thick to swallow around. He tries anyway, choking a little.

Gojou’s expression hasn’t changed at all.

He asks, “Is that all you wanted?”

Yuuji can’t tell whether it’s disappointment or mockery or some other unholy thing that’s there in his voice. He wants to crawl under a table or maybe split the ground open so he can drop right into its core, but his fingers refuse to let up their death grip on Gojou’s shoulders and his feet are rooted to the ground and his whole damn body’s soaking up the warmth Gojou’s radiating, and Yuuji finds that all he can do is stand and stare.

“No,” he croaks.

Gojou hums, a considering noise Yuuji’s grown to associate with some atrocious movie or a sparring bout that leaves him heaving on the ground. Fresh adrenaline floods him, and his heart beats even faster, a wet roaring in Yuuji’s ears.

“Was that your first kiss?”

Yuuji shakes his head, the motion too jerky.

“Oh?” A knuckle nudges his chin, tilting it up, and Gojou’s there, bending low to exist prettily in suffocating proximity to Yuuji’s face. “Don’t lie now.”

That unties Yuuji’s tongue. “I’m not. It was just one time. Girl in middle school. We didn’t do much.”

“Huh. Cute.”

“Sensei!”

“Don’t get all offended,” Gojou says, and he’s not laughing, but he’s close to it, and Yuuji shifts abruptly from wanting to drop into the abyss to wanting to dropkick Gojou into it.

He tries to back away, face unpleasantly hot, but then Gojou’s whole hand is there on his jaw, and an arm winds around his waist, and Yuuji’s pulled against a hard, unyielding body and his head is tilted further back. Gojou’s face is even closer, mouth hovering over Yuuji’s.

His breath is hot on Yuuji’s face.

Fuck, Yuuji thinks, panicked and reverent.

“Don’t run off either,” Gojou murmurs, and he’s so damn close that Yuuji can feel the words as he hears them. “Kiss me right first. You’re a quick study, aren’t you? Or have you changed your mind already?”

“No,” Yuuji yelps, snapping his jaw shut the next instant. More quietly, and not at all steadily, he says, “I still want to.”

“Go on then.”

Yuuji’s not sure when his hands shifted from Gojou’s shoulders to his hair, but when he clenches his hands in nervous anticipation, it’s soft, snowy strands that bunch up in his fists, and it’s easier than it has any right to be to pull Gojou down that last burning centimeter, forcing his mouth against Yuuji’s.

It’s still a knife-life curve, and Yuuji doesn’t bleed in any way that hurts, but it feels like Gojou’s cutting him open anyway.

His first kiss was soft and sweet and short. A few tight, thrilling seconds of sensation. He remembers licking his lips afterward, tasting something plastic and fruity and wondering if it’d have tasted any different on her mouth.

Gojou’s the answer. The glossy gleam that never leaves his lips is sticky on Yuuji’s lips and thick on his tongue, with a dull, fruity punch that feels like it should be sweet to the taste but isn’t, and then he sucks one into his mouth, more hungry than curious, and he learns that Gojou’s soft, yielding flesh tastes a hell of a lot better than any product.

The aftertaste lingers.

Apples, Yuuji thinks dazedly.

Gojou breaks the kiss, leaning back when Yuuji tries to chase him and keeping him at bay with the hand still cupping his jaw.

“Easy, tiger,” he murmurs. His lips are wet, but his skin is unflushed and his breathing calm.

Yuuji feels like he’s run a marathon in the summer sun.

“Sensei,” he gasps. There are a thousand things he wants to say, but nothing comes out, except another weak, raspy, “Sensei.”

“Yuuji,” Gojou returns. “Still want more?”

“I—yes, please—”

“Sleep on it.”

Yuuji shuts his mouth, blinking up at Gojou. “What?”

“Sleep on it,” Gojou repeats, “and tell me again in the morning. I’d hate for you to regret me, Yuuji.”

There’s something about the way Gojou says it that makes it sound like a promise.

Yuuji closes his eyes, swallowing thickly. The unsweet flavor of Gojou’s lip balm is gone already, but under that, there’s another taste—sharper and hotter and a lot more damning.

I won’t, Yuuji doesn’t say, but he knows it with the same fervor he felt when he said, I won’t regret the way I lived.

“Okay,” he says, opening his eyes. “Just one night.”

“The impatience of youth,” Gojou says, amused but also so fond, and Yuuji’s burning again, from face to gut, and when he frowns up at Gojou, he’s greeted to a crooked grin that burrows into his chest. “Don’t pout. You’ll survive the night, I promise.”

Yuuji pulls on his hair.

Gojou shuts right up, shuddering hard enough that Yuuji can feel it all over.

He stares at his fists in Gojou’s hair, then at parted lips still wet from their kiss.

Gojou tries to straighten back up; Yuuji doesn’t let go.

Gojou doesn’t make him.

He says, “Yuuji.”

“One more,” Yuuji breathes, tugging a little at Gojou’s hair, and there’s no shudder this time, but Gojou leans back in like he can’t help himself, and even through his glasses, his eyes glow. “Just one more, sensei.”

Gojou groans, right into Yuuji’s mouth.

They burn dinner.

[sweetchcolate]

I LOVE your posts about Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and just read your fanfic about Rafael visiting a pregnant Ann and loved it! I hope you write more fanfics on Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and can I request you write about Ann and Shall's wedding. IT WOULD FILL ME WISH SO MUCH JOY THAT YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE!

fandom: sugar apple fairy tale words: 5677 title: wedding prep shenanigans summary: A humorous glimpse into the weeks leading up to Anne and Shall’s wedding as their friends and guests show up one after the other.

also available on ao3!

A/N: Hiya, this ask is from late august/early september, so thank you for waiting all this time!

It's more on the funny/gen side since my last fic (spillover) was 100% pure fluff, but there was no way I could write about Anne and Shall's wedding without involving all the friends the two made over their adventures.

Thank you for waiting! I hope it was worth it!

As a heads-up, there are some spoilers for events in future LN volumes in Keith's section. It starts when he says "Ah, I was thinking out loud…" and ends when you read "It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy."

(And the changes of spelling between Cat and Kat are on purpose, depending on who talks to him. When it's Cat, it's because they're referencing the animal).

Despite the distance separating them, when Alph Hingley, Keith Powell, Hugh Mercury, Bridget Page, Elliot Collins, and the many other friends Anne and Shall made over the years received a notice for the wedding ceremony of a certain sugar master and an obsidian fairy, they all shared the same thought.

It’s about time.

Followed immediately by: wait, if I received an invitation, then who’s planning this?

--

Bridget, with her fiancé Orland and her ex-fiancé Elliot in tow, was the first one to arrive, of course. She greeted Anne with a warm hug, gave a solemn nod to Shall fen Shall and Mythril Lid Pod, and went straight to the crux of things.

“The wedding is only weeks away! Do you have everything planned?”

“Yes.

“Your dress?”

“Almost done. The seamstress wanted to see me one or two more times to make the final adjustments.”

“And Shall’s outfit?”

“All set!”

“What about the reception?”

“Right next to the church. The head priest and the mayor said they’d lend us tables and chairs so we could eat and party outside.”

“And how many people are you expecting? Do you have a guest list?”

Anne handed over the list, which Bridget briefly skimmed through. She nodded in satisfaction.

“Who’s in the charge of the catering? Oh, and what about the sugar confection? Did you order one? Who did you ask?”

“A-about that…”

“She was planning of making her own,” Shall said, his first intervention since Bridget started grilling Anne over the details. He hadn’t looked up once from whatever he was sewing, but it was obvious he’d kept up with the conversation. “She said she didn’t want to trouble anyone.”

“Shall!” Anne cried, betrayed.

Elliot frowned. He threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders, drawing her to him. He ruffled her hair.

“That won’t do, Anne. Do you know how many people would die to make your wedding sugar sculpture? Just think of it: Hingley, Powell, Mercury, Nadir, Valentine, King, Orland, Bridget—"

“Why did you cite me last, Elliot?”

“— and of course, saving the best for last: good old me. The silver sugar viscount and the best sugar masters of this generation at your beck and call. Soooo, who’s going to be the lucky sod?”

“Can’t I pick myself?”

“Ah ah,” Elliot tutted, wagging a finger. “No, no, no. Don’t you know it’s bad luck?”

“You guys should all make a sugar confection, and then we can choose a winner on the wedding day!” Mythril piped up.

“We? I wasn’t aware this was your wedding, Mythril Lid Pod,” Shall added.

“Ugh, you know what I meant!”

“Yes. You meant to stuff yourself full of silver sugar.”

“I’m going to gnaw on your wedding tunic.”

“No you won’t!” Bridget cut in. “Do you know how expensive those clothes are? Oh! I almost forgot! What about cosmetics? And your hair?”

Anne blanched, and that was an answer in and of itself.

“Anne, I can’t believe you! Come on, we’re going to Lewiston right now!”

“B-but the wedding isn’t for another mont—”

Shall, Mythril, Elliot, and Orland watched the blonde woman drag her friend. They were all quiet. Elliot made the prayer sign one would for the deceased.

Orland smacked him. To Shall, he said: “Aren’t you going to help Anne out? She’s your fiancée.”

“And she’s being dragged around by your fiancée,” Shall retorted. The implication was clear: if you’re not going to stop her, don’t expect me to.

“Hm.”

No one pointed out that the obsidian fairy, a one-man army of his own, could easily have prevented the women from leaving if he was so inclined. Keyword being ‘inclined”. No one could convince Shall (or Bridget for that matter) to do anything they didn’t want to unless you were called Anne Halford.

Mythril repeated the gesture Elliot made moments earlier.

--

“Yo.”

“Kat!”

Anne’s face positively lit up, shrieking when the older sugar master lifted her up in a bear hug. The gesture might be uncharacteristic coming from him, but hey, it wasn’t every day that his apprentice-figure was getting married. She deserved the rare show of affection.

“Hiya Anne,” Benjamin said once she was back on the ground. He was as cool and relaxed as ever. “Congratulations on the wedding~”

“Thank you, Benjamin! But it’s still two weeks away.”

“Oh good, we’re early~ The weather was just awful in Snowpoint, I thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“It smells good in here, small stuff,” Kat said. “What’s cooking?”

“An apple pie! I wanted to make a big one for the wedding, so Bridget and I are trying to figure out the right proportions. Want to be our taste-tester?”

“I won’t say no to free food.”

He followed Anne, finding Bridget, Orland, and Elliot huddled around a stove. Or rather, it was more accurate to say Elliot was huddled around the stove. Orland was holding the hearth door open while Bridget put a knife to a delicious-smelling pie. The air was filled with the scent of clove and cinnamon.

“Oooo, Hingley. That’s a nostalgic face if I’ve seen one.”

“Why am I not surprised to find you here, you freeloader.” Kat rolled his eyes. “Langston, Page. Congrats on your engagement again.”

“Thank you,” they answered in unison. Bridget added: “I think the pie is ready. Once it cools, we can eat.”

“Apple pie?” someone shouted from outside. “Wait for me! Don’t you dare eat without the great Mythril Lid Pod!”

It wasn’t long before Mythril showed up, perched on Shall’s shoulders. The two (or rather, the latter) had gone to chop some wood, the supply depleting faster with the addition of Bridget, Orland, and Elliot.

It was also a good way to keep the insatiable Mythril out of the way, lest he try to eat the apple pie dough raw.

“Oh, hi Kat! I thought I recognized your wagon outside! See, Shall fen Shall? I told you it was his!”

“Thank you for your wisdom,” Shall answered, more sarcasm than actual gratitude.

“Rude as ever, huh, Shall,” Kat said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

“Done hibernating, mister Cat? Glad you could make it to the wedding.”

“Hey, play nice.”

“No, no, let them, Anne.” Elliot snickered. “It’s free entertainment!”

“At least I’m doing something. You’re just lazing around, Collins.”

“Hey, hey. I’ll have you know I’m here on official Page workshop business.”

“Oh, really? And what is that?”

“We’ve got a wedding sugar confection for a very important client.”

“And where is that sugar confection? I only saw a regular carriage outside, not a crafter’s wagon.”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s still in my head!”

“You lazy ass—”

While Elliot and Kat bickered, Anne scooted over to Shall, helping him put the wood away.

“It sure has gotten more lively,” she whispered.

“Has it? I tuned them all out since day one.”

Anne shoved him slightly, but the grin on her face betrayed her amusement. “Don’t tell Mythril Lid Pod, or we won’t hear the end of it.”

“Ha. I don’t think we’ll ever have trouble hearing him.”

She held her hands out to take another log. Shall took the opportunity to bring her hand to his mouth, using his body to hide the gesture from their friends. It wasn’t like he had trouble with displays of affections, but Anne and he could do without the teasing.

Especially Collins’s.

“Only two more weeks,” he murmured, voice pitched low, just enough to reach Anne’s ears. She felt every twist of his lips, every syllable pressed in her skin. In the low light, Shall’s eyes gleamed a beautiful dark amethyst.

She blushed, feeling warm, and squeezed his hand back with a shy smile.

“Hey, lovebirds! Get over here before the shrimp eats your share of the pie,” Elliot interrupted with his oh-so-great timing. True to his words, Mythril’s cheeks were full, resembling a squirrel.

Shall and Anne exchanged a look, sharing similar thoughts. Those would be the longest two weeks of their lives.

--

“I wasn’t expecting everyone to be here already… I’m a bit embarrassed.”

“You’re right on time actually, Keith! Bridget came in early because she wanted to help with the wedding prep, and Elliot and Orland tagged along. And Kat left Snowpoint ahead of time because he didn’t want to be stuck if the roads got snowed in.”

“Still, if I had known, I would have pushed for mister Radcliffe to let me out much earlier.” Keith pointed to the back of his wagon with a hopeful smile. “I hope my sculpture will make it up to you. It’s one of the pieces I’m most proud of!”

“I’m looking forward to it! What did you make?”

“That’s a secret. I can’t have you spoiling your own wedding gift.”

Anne pouted. “Everybody’s so cagey! First, it’s Bridget kicking me out of the venue, then Elliot telling me I can’t go home because he and Orland are making my wedding candy on behalf of the Page workshop.”

“What about Shall? And mister Hingley?”

“They’re checking with the innkeeper if we have enough rooms for all the guests.”

So far, all five artisans and three fairies had piled up in Anne’s and Shall’s home, with Anne and Shall sharing the master bedroom, Bridget in the guest room, Elliot and Orland in the other, and Kat and Mythril sleeping downstairs in the living room. However, after the reception, Anne and Shall would want for intimacy on their wedding night, and so their friends needed somewhere else where to sleep.

“The two of them? Will they be alright?” Keith asked, referencing to Kat’s short temper and Shall’s ability to get a rise out just about anyone with pinpoint precision. The two men got along like… well… cat and dog.

“Mythril Lid Pod’s with them, but if I had known everyone would give me the boot, I would have gone with them,” Anne sighed.

“In that case, do you know what to do when something’s bothering you?”

“Run and leave it all behind, right?”

Keith blinked, but a pleased smile appeared on his face. “I’m surprised you remember that. It’s been so long ago.”

“Of course! I was under a lot of stress back then, you know? Your words were a big help, they really cheered me up.”

“Just my words?” he teased.

“You know what I mean!”

He laughed. “I’m glad I could help.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the flowers sway in the slight spring breeze. All the snow had already melted, and the land was slowly regaining its colors, waking up from a long deep sleep.

“To think you’re getting married…” Keith murmured under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Ah, I was thinking out loud…” He sighed. There was something wistful, but also peaceful about his smile. “Talking about the past got me feeling nostalgic. To think that back then, our biggest worry was whether we’d make silver sugar master.”

True. A lot happened in just a few short years: Anne and Shall’s abduction by his brother Rafael fen Rafael, Shall taking his responsibilities as a potential fairy king and bargaining with the human king to slowly give fairies back their autonomy, Rafael fen Rafael’s return, and Anne and Shall almost dying at his hands and paying the price of surviving such an ordeal with their memories (Anne of her painstakingly hard-earned sugar crafting skills, Shall of his meeting with Anne and all those she brought to his life)…

It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy, but their happy ending was finally within reach.

And not just Anne’s and Shall’s… everyone’s: Bridget and Orland were engaged and most likely the next to get married; Elliot had assumed the reigns of the workshop, taking the strain off Glen’s shoulders; the Page workshop was flourishing ever since the Holy Beginnings exhibit; Kat and Keith kept up their work as sugar masters, refining their skills and gaining in recognition.

Everyone was moving forward towards a bright future.

But a part of Anne missed the old days, a time where life was much simpler.

“This might sound silly, but I hope we all stay in touch. I… I don’t want us to drift apart,” she said, fighting to get the words out of her tightening throat. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of sadness and bittersweetness.

“Of course.” Keith patted her on the back, kind and comforting, and the gesture almost made Anne lose her composure. She sniffed the tears back. “We can meet up for the Royal Fair, for the Holy Beginnings, for Valentine’s day… Your birthday’s on the sixth month, right? So that will be our summer reunion.”

“If we only gathered for my birthday, that’d be unfair.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s come up with our own summer holiday, then. That way, no one’s jealous.”

Anne laughed, shaky. “As long as I don’t have to come up with the name.”

“You can design incredible sugar sculptures to wow royalty, but you’re stumped by names?”

“Hey! I’m a silver sugar master, not a name master!”

He laughed. Keith kept on patting her back until she felt better. She was truly lucky to have such an attentive and thoughtful person as a friend.

“Keith?”

“Hm?”

There was so much she wanted to thank him for, but she doubted she could ever convey the depths of her feelings, so Anne poured all her gratitude, her happiness, and her appreciation into two simple words: “Thank you.”

Keith wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. He whispered, barely a murmur on the wind, “Anytime.”

--

“Anne! Anne! Congratulations on the wedding!”

“Actually, it’s ‘congratulations on the engagement.’”

Noah ignored Valentine’s correction, clinging to Anne. “Can I see your dress?”

“Not today!” Anne laughed at the fairy’s pout. “Don’t worry, you’ll see it in two days.”

“But that’s too faaaaaaaar.”

“Noah.” It was Glen who spoke. The older man was on the edge of his seat, waiting for Anne and Noah to clear the way so he could get off the carriage. “If you’re that excited, why don’t you go check the church? That’s where the ceremony will be held.”

“Oh, in that case, could you tell Bridget, Orland, and Elliot that mister Glen is here?” Anne added.

“Will do!”

And just as quickly as he had latched onto Anne, Noah was off. Nadir and Valentine sputtered, giving Anne their regards before running after the fairy. Noah might be older than them both, but he was as innocent and carefree as a child.

“Mister Glen. You seem to be doing well.”

“I am. I feel much better these days.” Glen stood and Anne hovered nearby just in case, but the older man managed to make his way out of the carriage on his own. He regarded her warmly. “I believe you’ve grown. I don’t remember you being this tall.”

“I think you shrank, mister Glen,” King said. He waved at Anne. “Yo, thanks for the invitation. And congrats!”

“Thank you! I’m glad you could make it!”

“Of course. You’re one of us, even if you don’t work for the workshop officially anymore,” Glen said. “If you had told us earlier, we could have organized you a grand wedding. But what’s done is done. Are you all set?”

“Yes! Bridget was a big help. I thought I had everything handled, but there was so much more left than I expected!”

“The missy planned her own wedding months ahead. She knows her stuff.”

“Before I forget. Here.” Glen handed Anne a leather pouch, heavy and thick. There was a tinkling sound when he moved it, almost like that of coins. “For you.”

“Wait, why are you giving this to me? Are you not staying?”

“Don’t look so alarmed. I wouldn’t miss your wedding like I wouldn’t miss my daughter’s. This is a long overdue payment.”

“For what?”

“For your time as our head artisan.”

Anne blinked. She had assumed that role years ago, her goal to retrieve Shall’s wing, then to fulfill her promise to revive the Page workshop. It had never been about money.

“Mister Glen, I can’t—”

“Can’t accept it? It’s rude to refuse a gift, you know?”

“Just take it, or he’ll just ask Noah to hide it so you can’t return it to us,” King said.

Anne sighed. All her friends said she was stubborn and impossible to sway once her mind was set, but they were as equally headstrong when they wanted to be.

“Thank you, mister Glen. I appreciate it.”

“Treat yourself, Anne.” He patted her shoulder. “It’s good manners to make use of the gifts you’re given. It shows your appreciation more than saying thanks ever will.”

She was working on that, on relying on her friends, on accepting their goodwill and affection (whether through money, gifts, food or kind words) without falling back on old habits of doing everything on her own.

“Then I’ll buy myself some strawberry cakes. I’ve been craving those for a while.”

“That’s the spirit,” he laughed.

--

Anne flopped around like a fish out of water, sleep eluding her. Shall sat up from the bedding they’d laid on the ground, next to the bed — he would have been more than happy sleeping with Anne, but she’d claimed it improper before the ceremony. His guess was that she was still shy with anything beyond hugs and kisses, but also didn’t want to risk Mythril finding them twined together which… fair enough — and leaned in, cheek against his palm.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can see that. Too excited for tomorrow?”

“I… I kind of don’t want tomorrow to come.” Anne gasped and put her hands to her mouth, as if she realized how her words could be interpreted only after the fact. “Ah, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I…"

He let her talk. With her tendency to ramble, her true feelings would come spilling out sooner and later. And his patience was rewarded.

“I’m so happy, you know? The past few weeks were so fun, with everyone coming and staying over. I didn’t realize how long it’s been since we were all together. But once the wedding’s over, everyone will leave… we’ll all go back to living our own lives…” She sniffed, voice shaking. “I know it’s silly, but I miss everyone. I miss them even though they haven’t left.”

Shall was reminded of Hugh’s words, many years ago — words he knew true, but words he’d never forgiven the man for since they meant to separate him from Anne. “Humans get used to comfort so quickly, they forget how to go back to their old lives.”

They seemed to sum Anne’s feelings perfectly.

“The Page headquarters are a day of travel away from here, and Lewiston less than half a day. Cat also gave you his shop, but you know him. He’ll show up to check on you once in a while,” he told her, cupping her face. This caused Anne’s unshed tears to bead at the corners of her eyes, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “Those you love and who love you will always be close to you, no matter the distance. But if the feeling gets too unbearable and you want to see them again, then let’s hit the road together.”

Anne’s smile was wobbly, but it was a start. He opened his arms, and she gladly went for a hug, burying her face against his chest as her shoulders shook quietly. He patted her hair, and she relaxed in his embrace after a while. She smelled nice and she was soft to hold.

“Thank you. I feel much better.”

“You should go to sleep. You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you.”

“I know. It’s so unfair. Do you know how much more work I could get done otherwise?”

“You’d just throw yourself at silver sugar until you passed out from exhaustion. Which you have before.”

“What if it’s just an excuse so you’ll carry me to bed?”

Such underhanded schemes weren’t like Anne, but he humored her just the same. “Just ask me then. No need to go to such extremes.”

“Hey, you guys still awake? Is this a bad time?”

At Mythril’s voice, Anne scooted out of Shall’s laps, putting a respectable distance between them. She ignored the disgruntled expression on his face. “No, we were just talking. Did we wake you?”

“Nah, I wanted to check the moon. It’s overhead, which means it’s now officially your wedding day!” He sauntered over to them and held out two small boxes. “And I wanted to be the first one to give you your gifts!”

Shall and Anne shared a look before taking the gifts. Shall’s was a pendant in the shape a golden full moon, the metal so polished it reflected his face. He glanced over to Anne. She had received the same thing.

“They’re matching necklaces!” Mythril exclaimed, taking his own out. “When we’re apart and you get lonely, just look at it and remember we’re all under the same sky, watching the same moon.”

Huh. Did he listen in on them or was it just an incredible coincidence? Then again, it was possible Mythril had picked up Anne’s underlying fears over the past weeks — he could be surprisingly perceptive.

Anne, whose emotions were already running high, was once again on the verge of tears, but she looked touched, rather than sad.

“Oh, Mythril…”

“H-hey, are you crying? Why are you crying? Do you hate it that much? Don’t cry, Anne, I’ll get you something else! S-shall fen Shall, help! Do something!”

“They’re tears of happiness, dummy.”

“Huh? Don’t be stupid, how can you cry from being happy?”

Anne shook her head with a small laugh, scooping the tiny fairy and bringing him close to her chest. She cupped one hand around his body and gently laid her cheek on the top of his head in the best approximation of a hug she could manage considering their size difference.

“Thank you so much, Mythril Lid Pod. I love it,” she whispered, overflowing with gratefulness.

He clutched at her front, cheeks pink and eyes downcast in embarrassment. “...you’re welcome.”

Anne set him down, wiping her eyes, and stood. “I just keep crying lately. I’m going to freshen up. I’ll be right back.”

Shall nodded. Mythril sat down on Shall’s pillow, playing with his necklace. It was quiet, if not for the occasional sniff coming from the small fairy. Shall didn’t comment on it.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?” Mythril said after a while.

“Hm?”

Another sniff, longer. “I think I get it. Happy tears.”

Shall snorted softly.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?”

“What?”

“Can I sleep on your pillow tonight?”

Looked like Anne wasn’t the only one hit with a bout of nostalgia and dreading separation.

It had been a while since they all slept in the same room. It was a necessity at first, born from the fact Anne barely had enough money to afford even a single room in inns. Even after she’d won the thousand cress prize in Philax, she kept her frugal ways.

It was only after the second royal fair, once Anne made sugar master and established her reputation, earning herself a commendable wage, that they started to rent extra beds or, on rare occasions, extra rooms.

And then everything went down the drain when Rafael fen Rafael returned, upheaving their normalcy. Once things had settled down, their new normal was for Mythril to sleep on his own while Shall kept watch over Anne, sitting in a chair or lying in nearby bedding.

This would be the first (and probably the last) time in months they would share a room.

“Fine.”

“Please, please, please! I promise I won’t make a peep! I’ll even— what did you say?”

Shall laid down, covering himself with his blanket. “Go to sleep, Mythril Lid Pod. It’s late.”

When Anne came back, she found Shall and Mythril lying side by side. The smaller fairy was sprawled out like a star, his eyes closed. Not wanting to be left out, she slipped in with them. Shall scooted backwards to give her more space.

“Good night, you two,” Anne said.

“G’night Anne… Shall fen Shhhh…”

It wasn’t long before the two were asleep. Shall adjusted the covers over them and watched over the two people most precious to him.

--

“Don’t!”

“You can’t!”

“Someone, stop him!”

“Easy for you to say!”

“What’s all this ruckus about?” Bridget asked, pulling away from where she was putting the final touches on Anne’s make-up. She frowned at the muffled screaming. The door to the dressing room shook and rattled, as if someone was leaning against it.

“Bridget, you gotta help us!” Elliot shouted from behind. “Lock the door!”

“What’s going on, Elliot?”

“Move aside,” Shall said. His voice might be muffled, but his annoyance was clear.

“I told you man; it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony!”

“That’s ridiculous. I should be able to see my wife whenever I want.”

“You’re not married yet, you dumbass. Show some patience.” It was Kat.

“Actually, they are. They signed the paperwork months ago.”

Mythril gasped, as if realizing he had let slip something he shouldn’t have.

Too late. It was like someone had sucked all the sound out. You could hear people’s breathing with how quiet it was.

“What?” pretty much everyone shouted in unison. Bridget turned to Anne, gaping, whereas Noah tilted his head in confusion, not understanding the fuss.

Anne would have buried her face in her hands if she didn’t risk ruining her make-up. Of course this would get brought up right before the ceremony and in front of all of their friends. Gathering the poofy skirt of her wedding dress, she made her way out of the dressing room, intent to explain the situation.

Instantly, six pairs of hands blocked Shall’s line of sight. The fairy huffed.

“When Shall and I looked for someone who could officiate our marriage, most of the priests we asked refused to.” Many of them had squirmed at the idea of a human and a fairy marrying, the result of decades, if not centuries, of subconsciously ingrained bias. “I told Hugh about this, and he said that as silver sugar viscount, he was authorized to oversee our marriage. So we signed the paperwork with him and Mythril as our witnesses.”

The silent was thick and heavy, everyone processing the information. It was Elliot who broke down first, bursting with laughter.

“That’s— that’s—” He could barely speak with how hard he was laughing. “Oh man, and you guys call me a schemer.”

“It wasn’t like we were trying to hide it!” Anne retorted, cheeks puffing. “It was just a formality.”

“Only you would call being married on paper ‘a formality.’”

“Because it is!”

“Sorry to break it you, kiddo, but that paperwork is as binding as any vow. As far as the kingdom’s concerned, you’ve been husband and wife for months now,” Hugh added with a smirk. He looked all too pleased and amused at Anne’s embarrassment. “Though I suppose if you asked Shall, he’d say it’s been even longer.”

The fairy crossed his arms, but didn’t deny Hugh’s claims. Anne was glad for the heavy layers on her face because she was sure her blush would have been as bright as the sun. She certainly felt as warm.

“You look very pretty, Anne,” Keith said, changing the subject. It triggered a flood of compliments from the other guests, their kind words overlapping.

“Yeah, you look great!”

“Beautiful.”

“Hey, where’s your veil?”

“I got it!”

“You’re all doing this on purpose,” Shall grumbled. He could easily have plowed through the crowd to check on Anne or moved aside the hands blocking his vision, but he had grown tolerant of his friends’ shenanigans.

Anne was filled with a surge of appreciation for her fiancé. He had come so far compared to when they first met.

“If you’re all ready, how about we proceed with the ceremony?” Glen said.

“Go on ahead, everyone. There’s something I want to say to Shall.”

Her friends looked at Anne, then back at Shall, uncertain.

“Shall, are your eyes closed?”

“They are.”

“There you have it. I promise I’ll be quick.”

Satisfied, they all filed down the hallway, headed for the altar, leaving Anne alone with Shall.

Given the opportunity, she took in her fiancé’s (husband’s) appearance. He had always been a beautiful man, with fair smooth skin, glossy dark hair, high cheekbones, and a sharp jaw. His striking features made people’s heads turn.

Some might find his wedding outfit simple — a long dark tunic over breeches, with jewel-patterned embroidery lining his shoulders, his sleeves, and his lapels — but in Anne’s opinion, it only made him more handsome, if that was even possible.

“So you’re allowed to stare all you want, but I can’t look at you?”

“Just a little longer. Once the ceremony starts, you can look.”

Anne grabbed and squeezed his hands, a small compensation for all his patience. His hands slowly traveled up her arms, her shoulders, and curled around her jaw, as if trying to perceive her through touch since his eyes weren’t allowed. Anne felt goosebumps at the feel of Shall’s strong and slender fingers on her bare skin.

“You better not shy away,” he breathed.

“I-I won’t.” Anne felt tongue-tied by their proximity. She felt like she was getting sucked in, but she resisted the urge to move in for a kiss — she wasn’t sure she’d find the strength of will to pull away. “Sorry about earlier. I forgot to tell you about that little tradition.”

“It’s fine. I waited years, I can wait a few more minutes.”

She smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. “Then let’s not waste any more time. I’ll be going first.”

She turned around, but was stopped in her tracks as arms wrapped around her waist, firm and unyielding. There was a puff of hot air on the back of her neck, and Anne’s whole body tensed when she felt a pair of lips on her skin. She squeaked as they moved up to behind her ear. Her legs trembled and her heart was pounding in her temples.

“S-Shall…”

“Tradition says I can’t look, not that I can’t touch or taste.”

Anne’s mouth was dry. She was frozen in surprise and excitement, but just as quickly as he had embraced her, Shall let her go. There was a satisfied and smug look on his face, even with his eyes closed.

“See you soon, my future wife.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, and basically sprinted out of there before Shall got more handsy and frayed her nerves. She met with Glen right outside the doors leading to the altar. He had offered to give her away, as she didn’t have any blood family, and Anne couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the role than a father himself.

“All set?”

She took a deep breath. Her heart was doing flip-flops in her chest and her hands were faintly shaking as she linked arms with Glen. “All set.”

He smiled at her, calm and reassuring. All their friends were seated and chatting with one another, but the second she stepped in, they turned to look at her. Elliot, Nadir and King hooted, Kat, Keith, and Valentine waved, Orland nodded and Bridget smiled at her, and Mythril jumped up and down in joy.

Anne waved as she passed each row of guests. She deliberately avoided looking at Shall, waiting for her at the altar. She knew whatever expression he made would make her weak in the knees.

Glen led her down the aisle, and she swapped his arm for Shall’s. She kept looking at her feet. It would be embarrassing to stumble and fall at this point.

Finally, once they stood in front of Hugh, their officiant, she allowed herself a glance at her fiancé (and on paper husband), immediately regretting and glad for her earlier choice.

She had been right. Shall was looking at her like she was the sun and he a sunflower. His eyes were intense, half-lidded and heady, and his strong features showed a fierce warmth and passion. She felt both like running away and wanting to stay in place to bask in such a rare expression.

“Alright everyone, I’ll be officiating this ceremony. I won’t bore you with a long speech,” Hugh said. The attendees got quiet, expectant. “Anne Halford, will you take Shall fen Shall for a husband?”

“I do.”

“Shall fen Shall, will you take Anne Halford for a wife? Will you love her from now on for better or for worse? In sickness and in health? In silver sugar obsession and in creative drought? In—”

Everyone snickered and even Anne giggled quietly. It was obvious Hugh was doing this to aggravate Shall, who bore the unnecessarily prolonged vows with admirable patience. Anne could tell when he tuned Hugh out, because he rolled his eyes and decided to look at her instead. They shared a smile, expressions soft with love, as they waited for Hugh’s speech to end.

“I do.”

“Good. Any objections from the guests?”

“None! You know there’s none!” Mythril yelled. “Hurry it up!”

“Then by the powers conferred to me as silver sugar viscount, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss—”

Shall didn’t need to be told twice nor was he going to wait a second longer. In one swift move, he’d lifted Anne’s veil and leaned in to kiss his proper wife.

“—the bride. You know, it’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking.”

Cheers and shouts and clapping and confetti and flower petals burst all around them, swallowing Hugh’s friendly teasing. Not that Anne and Shall paid any mind to anything that wasn’t their spouse. They pulled back from their kiss, grinning, forehead and nose touching. Their happiness was obvious.

And just as all those weeks ago when they received the invitation, everyone shared the same thought.

It’s about time.