#I DIDN'T say Gardener INVENTED the word

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

Playlist !!

songs to listen along with: the beast, etc..

art credit goes to Marbipa

OMG guys, I literally hat to let this one sit and marinate for a while even though I typed it out like so long ago. AND I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO ADD THE SONGS FOR LAST CHAPTER, DW I DID THOUGH. Ugh and I literally also just found out that i had a textbook for a class, i didn't deep dive into the syllabus. AHHHHH regardless I hope you guys enjoyyy !! our favorite characters have finally met!!

like always tell me if you’d like to be tagged !!

prev | ch.4

warnings: wrongful incarceration, bargaining, yelling, really bad british slang, mexican spanish (im sorry y’all im venezuelan ☠️)

word count: 3.3k

Chapter 3: The Beast

After going through the thick woods, trusting Felipe to take her to where she needs to go…

Y/N makes it deep and far in the woods and stops Felipe from galloping when she spots her father’s wagon. She looks at all of the scattered food, items, and even his invention. In worry, she clutches on Felipe’s reins tightly and directs him to keep on going. After riding Felipe some time, the air gets thicker and fog covers the entirety of the forest. She then notices Felipe starting to trot and make his way down a gravel path. She looks around the dead trees and notices the large gates and the grand castle in front of her. “What is this place…” she says nervously. Felipe then starts nickering and anxiously moving as he didn’t want to go inside the gates. Y/N had to get off to comfort the horse and calm him down. After a few moments, she turns around and peeks inside the gate to see her father’s hat. She opens them and she reaches for the hat and holds it tightly in her hands, her worry now increasing for him. “Come on Felipe, we have to go inside” 

She mounts the horse once more and goes inside the gate, going through the garden until she makes it to the steps of the castle. Y/N then gets off Felipe and carefully goes up the stairs, grabbing a large stick from the stairs as a weapon incase if she needs to defend herself. She then makes it to the top and carefully opens the door. Peering inside she walks in hesitantly, as she looks around. 

“Look Jess…it's a pretty girl” 

“I can see that Miles, I lost my hands.. Not my eyes” 

 Miles then peeks at Jess and whispers “but what if she’s the one who’ll break the spell ?” Y/N turns around confused at the sound of whispering “Who said that ?” She looks around to see nobody except for a candelabra and a clock. She quietly approaches the two of them looking at the inanimate figures confused at what she heard. Her thoughts however were shunned as she could hear her father’s cough from a distance. In her desperateness to find him, she takes the candelabra and goes to look for him. Jess looks at Miles being taken and she simply sighs. 

Y/N follows the sound of coughing to a set of stairs, as she gets closer she then peers into a hall that goes up a tower. She anxiously walks up the stairs as she yells out “PAPA ??” She walks up the stairs faster as the coughing gets louder “ERES TU PAPA ??”  Y/N then gets to the top of the tower and gasps seeing her beloved father inside a dungeon. She throws the stick to one side and places the candelabra on a nearby shelf and places it there. Y/N then gets on her knees as she looks at her father in relief after searching for him “Oh papa, que paso?? what happened to you, your hands are ice cold..” she says holding him tightly through the metal bars. Mauricio looks at her in awe and simply says “how did you even find me ?” 

“That doesn’t matter, we need to get you home !” 

“Y/N please…listen to me it’s not safe here, you must leave at once! This castle is alive !” he says in a whisper, tightly holding onto Y/N’s hands. Y/N looked at him confused until she heard a deep growl echoing in the distance. She grabs her stick once more from the floor and looks around the dungeon. She firmly grips onto the piece of thick wood, as she gains the courage to look around and protect herself and her father. “Who’s there, WHO ARE YOU ?”

“Who Are YOU?” 

The voice of a man echoes throughout the dungeon, his silhouette appearing in the distance. “I’ve come for my father..” Y/N says with determination in her voice. The sound of someone coming down the stairs is heard in the dark dungeon. “Your Father….is a thief”. Enraged, Y/N yelled out “LIAR!” The silhouette has now fully come down the stairs and standing before her, his silhouette still only seen “He stole a rose..” Y/N raises an eyebrow appalled at his words “I asked for the rose, punish me not him !” Mauricio looks at his daughter and shakes his head “No, Y/N don’t… he means forever, apparently that’s what happens around here cuando uno elige una bendita rosa” 

Y/N even more appalled turned to her father and back to the silhouette “A life sentence for a flower ?” A loud roar is heard as it approaches her even more, she steps back a little but not entirely to stand her ground despite the small shivers down her leg. “I received eternal damnation for one” the figure said, the growl in his voice becoming deeper. “Then take me instead” The figure growls and looks away and angrily says “YOU-” his expression then softly changes as he was shocked at how willing she was. “Tú....Tú tomarías su lugar?”

Y/N bites her lip and nods a whimper coming from her lips releases in her voice “If I did…would you let him go ?” The silhouette’s voice became a bit softer but still gruff in its dominant position “Yes, but you must promise to stay here forever” he says. Y/N looks down and blinks thinking of what to do next, she notices there’s a light right between them, separating the two from fully seeing each other. “Come into the light” she demands. The silhouette becomes smaller as she starts to see two large paws, she then looks up to see not a man but a beast with the horns of a goat, a thick mane that covered his entire body and crimson red eyes that peered into hers.  Y/N covers her mouth in shock and turns to her father dropping the stick yet again to hold his hands. “No, Y/N to te puedo permitir que hagas esto” 

Y/N kisses her father’s hands and approaches the Beast, her voice faltering to a whisper “you have my word..” The Beast then growls and opens the door dragging Mauricio out and pushing Y/N in, not even letting the two share a proper departure. He then drags Mauricio all the way out of the castle and throws him inside a carriage “Take him to the village” Mauricio cries out to him “SPARE MY DAUGHTER PLEASE!” The Beast ignores him and growls as he closes the carriage door “She’s no longer your concern…” Mauricio cries out to him to let him out, but The Beast was already walking back inside his castle. 

After a moment, The Beast is seen walking back inside the castle on all fours with an annoyed expression on his face. Miles had already hopped down halfway to meet him. “So, Uh Sir ?” 

“WHAT” the Beast growled out. Miles cowered a bit but then adjusted himself “soo uh since the girl is going to stay with us for quite some time, erm umm” he rubs his other two candles together “I was thinking that y’know you wanted too uhh, bring her to a more comfortable room” he says with a sheepish smile. The Beast growls at him and keeps walking up the stairs ignoring what he said. “Or not” Miles says. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Up in the tower after a week ….

Y/N wept as she whispered comforting words to herself. She thought about all of those times with her father, how he told her that home is where the heart is. But she wasn’t home, she was lonely and locked away. Her face drained as she thought of making the tiny dungeon her home, tears kept on spilling out as she thought about her poor father, all alone with nobody to lean onto in her terrible village.

She then sees a shadow loom over her and notices its The Beast. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye..I’ll never see him again..” her tears taint her cheeks that have been stained from the grime of the dungeon. “I-I’l never..see h-him again..” she says in between sobs. The Beast then looks at Y/N and a bit of guilt plagues his mind. He scratches his head and then considers what Miles told him earlier.. “I’ll show you to your room..” he says softly as he walks out the dungeon. 

“My room? But I thought -” 

“You, YOU wanna stay in the tower ?” 

“No..” she says softly.

 “Then follow me..” The Beast says.

The Beast then guides her out of the tower and back into the castle, taking Miles with him along the way so that he could light up the hallways. As Y/N is escorted, she looks around the castle and its statues and notices how dark and lonely the place seemed to be. Her eyes stare fearfully at a statue of a hideous gargoyle and speeds up to catch up with The Beast. 

The Beast heard her gasp and looked behind to see a single tear falling down her cheek, he looked back in his direction as he felt a bit more guiltier. “You should say something to her y’know” Miles says softly. The Beast nodded and turned to her “I..uhh…I hope you like it here” he looked back at Miles to see if it was ok. Miles then looks at him encouraging him to say a bit more. “The castle is your home now, so you can go anywhere you would like…except the west wing.” Y/N’s curiosity perks up and she asks “what’s in the west wing ?” He growled out “IT'S FORBIDDEN”. His voice echoed out into the empty halls of the castle. He then takes her to a suite and opens the door for her. “If you need anything…my servants will attend you.” Y/N walks in and looks around the room. She then turns back to him and softly asks “but what’s your name ?” The Beast looks down as he didn’t want to remember his name, as he isn’t human or anything similar to his name. “It’s Miguel..”

Y/N nods as she looks back to the room and looks around. Miles then in a corner of Miguel’s viewpoint whispers “dinner, go invite her to dinner” Miguel nods and he tries to find the best way to speak to her “YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR DINNER…Th-THAT”S NOT A REQUEST” he says gruffly as he slammed the door. Y/N in shock of his words looked back at the closed door and back to the room. Spotting the bed she runs towards it and throws herself onto the pillows and cries her heart out. She hasn’t even realized that it has already started snowing outside signifying the start of winter.

About a couple of hours later, There was a soft knocking on the door. Y/N who was too busy crying hears it and softly says “who is it ?” She then hears a man’s voice “Its, Peter” Y/N approaches the door and quietly opens it and peers outside. She didn’t see anyone until she saw a serving cart with a tea pot and a small cup. “Oh wow you’re very pretty ma’am” he says politely with a smile. “I thought you would like a small cup of tea” Y/N backs up surprised at the sight and bumps into the wardrobe. Hearing a voice from the wardrobe she looks at it in shock “ooh, watch it ‘ere mate” Y/N backs up to her bed and sits down surprised. “B-but, this is impossible!” 

“I know mate, but ‘ere we are. Oh and the name’s Hobie” Y/N looks around in awe and surprise and just sits, processing the whole situation. The little teacup then spoke, “I told you she was pretty daddy!” Peter chuckles and pours some tea into his daughter “alrighty May, go and hand it to her, gently without spilling” Mayday happily hops to Y/N and waits for her to pick her up. “Why… Thank You” Y/N takes it softly. She then takes a sip of the tea and hums softly, enjoying the taste. “Wanna see me do a trick ??” Mayday then giggles as she breathes in and blows bubbles into the tea. She gets scolded quickly by her father though.

Peter chuckles and looks at Y/N. “Y’know, that took guts kid,” Hobie nods and agrees with him “the whole castle’s buzzin ‘bout it.” Y/N sighs in disappointment “but, I’ve lost my father, my dreams, I’ve lost almost everything..” Peter smiles and gives her a warm smile “aww, don’t worry kid, things always turn out better in the end.” Peter then realizes that he’s still supposed to be in the kitchen “oh crap, i forgot i’m supposed to be helping in the kitchen.. Anyways it was lovely meeting you” he says as the serving table wheels away from her room and leaves.

“Well now, let's get somefink good for youse to get dressed for the old geezer ‘ere.” Hobie then opens his drawers and sees some moths fly out “m’bad dovey” He then pulls out a nice dress for her and says “ ‘ere ya go, somefink pretty for you dovey” Y/N looks at the dress and smiles softly “oh, that’s very kind of you Hobie, but i’m not going to dinner” Hobie then shrugs and puts the dress back inside his drawers “aight then, youse definitely gonna make that geezer more laughable” he says. A small pattern is heard walking inside the room, Jess walked in and took a breath. “Come on honey, dinner’s waiting” she says trying to lighten up the mood. 

Down at the dining table however, Miguel is pacing back and forth anxiously waiting for Y/N’s arrival. He then growls annoyed “What’s taking her so long ....I told her to come down…” He then looks at Miles and a smaller candle who’s named Lyla. “aww come on Miguel, you do realize that she’s literally lost her freedom and her dad like last week” Lyla says, stating the obvious. Miles then nods and says “soo uhh, Sir, Haven’t you thought that this girl.. Might be the one who could break the spell ?” MIguel looks up to the two candles “OF COURSE I HAVE..I’M NOT STUPID” Miles then smiles and says “Then you fall in love with her, sheee falls in love with you, and POOF! We’re human! We should be back to normal by midnight !” he says with a confident smile. Peter on the table however, digresses on the situation. “Miles buddy, it's not that easy y’know… these things take time” Miles then frowns and softly says “but, Peter ...the rose is already starting to wilt..” 

Miguel then looks down and sits on all fours and grumbles “Oh, it’s no use..” he runs a paw through his large mane “it's just that she’s just so beautiful, and i’m well.. WELL LOOK AT ME” he says with a snarl. Peter then sighs and looks at Miguel “aww come on Miguel, you have to help her see through all of that” Miguel then growls lowly “I don’t know how” he says as his ears flatten to the sides. Lyla then grins and pitches in “then how about a quick lesson on how to be a gentleman 101: Sit up and try to be kind.” Peter smiles and also shares a few thoughts “oh then don’t forget to give her a sweet smile, come one show me one Migs” Miguel then proceeds to give the most toothiest and quite horrible smile, even Lyla had to step back a little out of surprise. “Now don’t scare her, charm her” Peter says. Miles then blurted out “Oh, OH and impress her with your intelligence!” Miguel looks at all four of them trying to absorb the information, his mind whirling at almost everything that he has to do, that just seemed utterly impossible. The quartet continued to bombard him with a whole bunch of manners until they all said at the same time “and the most important of all, CONTROL YOUR TEMPER!!!” Miguel wipes his face from the small bead of sweat that was forming. 

Then, the sound of a door is heard opening, Miguel looks up in anticipation but is met with only Jess coming inside. “SO, evening everyone..” she says nervously. Miguel then raises an eyebrow “Well ? where is she ?” Jess takes a deep breath in, just knowing how Miguel is definitely going to react “soo, she’s…yea she’s not coming”

“WHAAAAAAAAAAT ??!!!!”

Outraged, Miguel leaves the dining room and runs as quickly as his legs and hind legs could take him, all the way upstairs and into the east wing. Peter yells out “Nononono, WAIT MIGUEL !” 

Miguel manages to outrun them and make it to Y/N’S door and basically smacks it as hard as he could “ I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO COME DOWN FOR DINNER” y/n behind the door responds to him “I’m not coming” she says with a little huff in her voice. Miles, Lyla, Peter, and Jess just facepalm and shake their heads in disappointment. A sigh was even heard from behind Miguel from the huge letdown. “YOU BETTER COME OUT, OR I’M- YO VOY…VOY A ROMPER LA BENDITA PUERTA !”

Miles whistled and just said “so, just a quick suggestion , but uh….that really isn’t the best way to impress a girl..” Jess nods and sighs “Miguel just for once, can you actually just be polite to her?” Miguel gestured to the door “But, she is being so DIFFICULT”  Peter then comes beside him and softly says “gently Miguel, you’re spooking her..” Miguel groans and lowers his tone at the door “Will you come down for dinner ?” he closes his eyes hoping that she would say yes to this tone in his voice. “No!” Y/N says. 

Miguel’s eyes widened and his ears shot up in surprise and he gave a look pointing to the door as he tried to prove his point to the servants. Miles then says “suavemente y gentilmente…” 

Miguel then takes a deep breath and tries again, “It would give me a great pleasure, if you would come out and join me for dinner.” He looks up to the door slightly hoping that she would come out this time…although his temper is starting to boil. 

Jess coughs “COUGH- we say please- COUGH” 

Miguel rolls his eyes and softly says please

Y/N simply says “NO, THANK YOU !” Everyone watching the interaction watches in shock as they know he’s going to blow. 

Miguel then belts out “YOU CAN’T STAY IN THERE FOREVER”. 

Y/N on the other side of the door yells out “QUE SI!”

Miguel snarls and roars out “FINE THEN GO STARVE FOR ALL I CARE PINCHE DESGRACIADA”

He looks down to his servants “IF she doesn’t eat with me, then she doesn’t eat at all” Miguel then growls out and runs off away to his room into the west wing. He opens the door annoyed and just grumbles to himself “I ask nicely but she refuses, like que quiere?? que yo hago? BEG ??” In a flurry of rage, he goes to a table where the enchanted rose is encased in a glass dome. Beside it is his magic mirror that was gifted by the enchantress. Miguel then grabs his magic mirror and looks into it “ensename la niña” 

The mirror then glows a greenish blue color and shows him y/n sitting in bed being comforted by Hobie. “Aww come on Dovie, the old bloke ain't so bad..” Y/N however was sitting in bed dejected and not too convinced. “I don’t want to though...I don’t even want to do anything with him!”  Miguel, shocked, puts down the mirror as he feels that same familiar feeling of hopelessness takes over his mind “who am I fooling…she’ll never see me as anything other than .... than a monster” he says as his voice shakes. He looks at the rose and sees a petal that slowly fell down and wither making the castle shake and crumble a bit.

“It’s hopeless…”

taglist: @cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles, @xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n, @badbishsblog, @faimmm, @opalwitchart,

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Oh! What if when Adam was made, he was already made chubby? He was the First Human, the prototype if you will, and they were experimenting with humans and how they should make them. They make Adam on the chubby side, much bigger than anyone else in Heaven, but they aren't happy with how he looks.

So they make Lilith much skinnier. Lilith doesn't like him at all based on his appearance but one day while Lucifer is visiting the Garden, he notices Adam crying by a river.

He's never seen so many curves on...anyone before. He's used to stick thin angels in Heaven. Adam has so much more to hold...

Lucifer decides that he wants Adam, I'm imagining him a bit darker because he does take advantage of Adam's innocent nature to touch him, and he will. He just needs to get closer....

XxX

Adam was crying at the river, tears in his eyes. He didn't know why Lilith was avoiding him but no matter what he did or said, she always said that he wasn't good enough. Ugly. A new word she invented just for Adam. Something undesirable.

He poked his stomach with a frown. He understands angels are perfect. So then why does he feel disgusted by his own appearance?

Adam: I don't understand why everyone hates me...*He sobs. He didn't know what to do.*

Unbeknownst to him, he was being watched by a pair of blue eyes...

Awwww! Poor Adam :( He doesn't know any better he was literally made that way. What a bunch of bitches.

Yeah me too, but first a little fluff as a segway.

-

Lucifer watched from a good distance, if the other human was woman than this was man. His eyes trailed all of the lovely curves that Adam had on display and Lucifer was bewitched by the sight.

But why was crying? From what he's heard Eden is supposed to be a perfect paradise with nothing negative to take place. Constant happiness and tranquility. So why the tears?

Maybe this could be his way in! Finally introduce himself and if he makes things better maybe he'll let him touch him? Even just a little? Lucifer really wanted to place his hands on those hips.

Ever so careful as to not startle him, Lucifer went over to finally make his presence known. "Excuse me."

Adam jumped, he was so lost in his sadness he didn't notice the angel that came over. "Y-yes?"

"You're Adam right? I'm Lucifer, why are you crying?" He sat down beside Adam who sniffed sadly, his honey brown eyes still lined with tears.

"Lilith said that I'm ugly....." Lucifer frowned, was that skinny bitch blind?

"Now why would she say a cruel thing like that? He made you to be perfect and in His image. Why, I'm looking at you right now and you're the most beautiful being I've ever laid my eyes on." Lucifer reached out and wiped a tear. Oh his skin was so soft!

And that's just the skin on his face.

Adams lip wobbled, "Really?" If an angel thought he was beautiful well.....

Lucifer smiled, "Of course, I'd never lie to you."

[randomshyperson]

Mess is Mine - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Being divorced from Wanda Maximoff implies never getting over her.

Warnings: (+18), language, brief smut, divorced ladies who are very still much in love with each other, unspecified age gap, marriage going wrong, hopeful ending, mild angst, fluff.| Words: 3.949k.

A/N-> There's this divorced couple in a Brazilian soap opera with so much chemistry in their scenes together because of the intimacy gained during marriage (even though that didn't work out) and they won't leave my tik tok ; at some point, my brain thought about this fic. I would love to write more of this trope in the future.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Wanda had a persistent migraine, and the pile of work in front of her was not helping.

Still, all her stubborn brain could focus on instead of her real job was the stupid headline of the gossip magazine on her desk.

A cheap and badly angled photo of her ex-wife with colorful captions that read 'The newest business killer couple?" and dozens more insinuations about a secret high-society romance made her stomach churn.

Wanda tried not to be affected by the gossip, but you looked so happy in the photo that she couldn't help it.

The sudden opening of her door made Wanda jump in her seat, in one quick pull close the magazine and sigh with relief when she saw it was only Natasha.

"Why are you here?" Her long-time friend and co-worker asked. Wanda frowned in confusion.

"It's still my company..."

Nat rolled her eyes, walking into the office and taking long strides to her desk. "I meant in here, smarty-pants. The event is starting in an hour, the staff wanted some words of encouragement or something."

Wanda sighed wearily, massaging her forehead with one hand. "Can't you do that for me, Nat? I gotta make some calls."

Nat hummed in agreement, but her gaze caught the closed magazine on the table and she raised a brow at her friend. "One of those calls includes your ex-wife, I suppose."

Wanda chuckled dryly, taking the magazine out to one of the drawers and adjusting herself to reach the desk phone. "There's nothing else for me to say to her."

Her friend hid a smile that said that she didn't believe this one bit. "Okay, whatever you say. See you later, boss."

Wanda waved goodbye, with the phone to her ear. Her immediate instinct was to dial known numbers but she shook her head to push that ridiculous idea away and went back to work.

Several hours after the peak of the event when the company was filled with guests, from potential clients to journalists looking for any news like vultures at the carrion, Wanda was at her second glass of champagne, trying to keep the rest of her patience intact after having answered so many questions for gossip magazines regarding the headline from earlier in the day.

She absolutely did not want to discuss a possible romance between her ex-wife and the heiress of Bishop Industries. 

Years before, any of them would have been afraid to question her about something so ridiculous, but that was before you came along. And melted your way into the Business Ice Queen, the untouchable Wanda Maximoff, or whatever insensitive nickname they invented about her back then. Before breaking down all of Wanda's walls, making her a better person, and of course, before you left her.

It was definitely the alcohol's fault that she was thinking about this, and with these stupid tears welling up in her eyes. Wanda swallowed all the emotion, burying it deep and making sure that no one had noticed her broken expression. With an excuse to a group of investors who were boring her into a corner, she retreated to an area far away from the company's outdoor gardens, taking a deep breath to calm herself. The beautiful view of the state lake was most welcome.

So of course the reason for her almost minor breakdown had to show up wearing her favorite suit.

"Are you running away from your guests, Maximoff?" Your tone was casual, the smile provocative. She snorted to herself, crossing her arms and keeping her eyes on the lake. You didn't mind, walking over to her at a slow pace until you were beside her on the edge. 

"I just needed some air." She merely replies. With one hand in your pockets, you adjust your own hair, and Wanda hates that she can smell the shampoo, her body betraying her and shuddering as if your scent were addictive. 

"You're avoiding me today." You comment lightheartedly, studying her face. "I arrived an hour ago and it took me almost all this time to find you."

Wanda forced a smile, finally facing you back, but her angry look made you hesitate. "I thought your chaperone was keeping you busy."

You glanced back at the party, stealing a quick check on Kate at the food stand, chatting with a blonde girl, before turning your attention back to Wanda.

"I forgot how hot you get when you're jealous."

Wanda huffs away, her cheeks burning which she tries to hide by staring at the lake. "Don't even start." She warns between teeth. 

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, but don't insist. You turn your attention to the lake as well. "I wanted to let you know that the boys have already arrived in King Cross. I spoke to them and Charles on the phone."

"I know, Pietro texted me." She retorts more harshly than she meant to and bites the inside of her cheek as she sees you lower your head in upset. With a sigh, she mumbles, "I meant, thanks for letting me know."

You smile, nodding before turning your gaze back to the party. "What do you think of Miss Bishop?" 

Wanda locks her jaw; How dare you honestly. A list of curses lays ready on the tip of her tongue, but she remembers where you two are, and takes a deep breath. You were clearly trying for some kind of reaction from her, and she's not going to let you have this victory today.

"She's beautiful." Wanda replies. "As young as you were when I met you."

You chuckle shortly, raising an eyebrow at her. "What are you implying, Maximoff?"

Wanda shrugs her shoulders softly, turning to leave. "You're quite clever, Y/N, I'm sure you follow." She hits back, but you step forward into her path. You are suddenly too close, and Wanda finds herself holding her breath. She needs to take a step back to avoid stopping breathing for good.

Your eyes stare into theirs. "Not that this is any of your business, darling, but my relationship with Kate is strictly professional."

You assure her in a low tone, and Wanda swallows hard as your gaze moves down to her lips for a long moment before focusing on her eyes again. A smile forms on your mouth next. "Besides this, I've always had a thing for older women."

Wanda sighs heavily, using all her mental control to pull away at once. "Go pay attention to your chaperone, Y/N. Especially if she's a potential client."

You roll your eyes at the business tip; you already know them by heart, the vast majority learned from Wanda. And your ex-wife makes mention of leaving, so you slide your hand down her forearm gently, taking some amusement in seeing the way she shivers.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, Wanda." You let her know, with a serious tone but a tender look. The redhead swallows dryly at the closeness of your faces now that you're standing side by side, your hands connected. "Later, after the party, okay?"

"I-I..."

"It's important." You assure her, knowing her hesitation is so as not to break your agreement about relapses. With a gentle expression, you insist, "Please, it won't take more than five minutes."

She licks her lips, and you almost kiss her. Lucky for her she agrees and walks away because God knows you would have done it, right there in that garden for all the New York reporters to have a week's news about.

Without Wanda's perfume around you, you take a deep breath and try to clear your mind, having to wait a few more minutes in the garden for your heart to stop beating so fast.

As the event nears its end and Wanda needs to give a closing speech, you say goodbye to Kate before the parking area. You ignore all the journalists who try to insinuate something about you having taken the girl to the car and exchange a glance with Wanda in the small crowd before moving toward the elevator.

Wanda has always known you so well, and with a nod, she knows exactly where she has to go.

Her work floor is completely deserted as she makes her way to her own office. But she still closes the door as she enters, letting out a tired laugh at your figure sitting on her armchair.

Her smile fades when she sees what you are reading.

"Headlines nowadays are getting creative..." You wryly chuckle, laughing at your ex-wife's caught expression. "It says here that I might have an eye to the Bishop's fortune. How silly, you gave me almost half of yours in the divorce, why would I need more money?"

"Very funny." Wanda dryly retorts, reaching up to snatch the magazine from your hands with a tug, and raking the item into the trash afterward. She crosses her arms as she looks at you. "What did you want to tell me?"

You flashed a small, sideways smile. "You used to be more polite when you wanted to sleep with me. At least offer me a drink."

Wanda chuckled dryly, rolling her eyes and begrudgingly moving to the personal bar in the corner of the room. If she leaned over more than necessary to grab one of the whiskey bottles, aware that the position in the chair gave you a full view of her ass, neither of you said anything about it. She hid her satisfied smile as she heard your breath hitch at the image, and you hid your own reaction as you cleared your throat and looked away.

Shortly thereafter, two shots of whiskey were served on the glass table in front of you. But before the toast, you declared:

"I'm leaving."

Wanda frowned, and when you made mention of taking the glass, she placed her hand on your forearm. "Speak."

You chuckled, staring her in the eyes. "I closed a contract with the Ten Rings folks. They want me in Korea for the next four months."

Wanda lets go of your arm as if she had been burned and steps away from the table with an indecipherable, but very disturbed expression.

"B-but the boys.." She tries to formulate, but you rise from the armchair with a sigh.

"They'll be at school." You retort, even though firm, your gaze is almost pleading. For what, Wanda doesn't have the heart to wonder. "It's not as if they stay with us all the time, Wands. The boarding school takes up this time quite well. It will only be four months, and they've already invented the telephone and internet, you know?" You try to joke, but Wanda hugs her own body and faces you.

"Why are you here, then? You've traveled before."

"Not for that long." You say, taking steps toward her, and mentally thanking heavens that she doesn't pull away. "And not... not since we made the divorce official."

"Y/N..."

"I know, I know." You murmur with a sad smile, raising your hands to her arms uncovered by her dress. "Maybe it's stupid, but I wanted to make sure we're okay. That it won't be something...I don't know, that hurts us."

"More than a divorce? I find that difficult." She replies with restrained emotion in her husky voice. You sigh.

"Wanda..."

"No, you're right. It was stupid." She cuts off, pulling away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Of course it's okay. But I appreciate that you respect the concept of shared custody. I imagine the kids already know?"

"Yes, I told them before I took them to the airport." You mutter upset, watching Wanda walk away to the window. "But Wands, I wanted to tell you in person..."

"And why is that, huh?" she retorts with an impatience that makes you flinch. And for this, Wanda loses it for good. "You know, I don't understand you! You left me! You filed for divorce, you wanted to break us up. But you keep showing up here, and at home, and everywhere, and now you want to come here and say you care-"

"I care, Wa-"

"Then why did you leave me?" she shouts back, almost regretting it when she sees the tears in your eyes. You laugh tearfully, shaking your head.

"We've had this conversation dozens of times, Wan." You say, much calmer than she is. "But you just can't accept that you're wrong, can you?"

"Right, I forgot that I'm the villain in your story." She sneers, wiping her face with the back of her hand. You give another sad laugh.

"I wish it were that simple, darling." You tell her, taking slow steps toward her. "If you were just the villain, the bad wife, the evil boss, everything would be easier. I could hate you, curse your names to all my friends, and spend all the divorce money on expensive, empty things out there, but it's not like that. You forget the part that I love you and tried to fight for us until the last second."

Wanda sobs quietly, looking down at the floor, "Don't do that, Y/N."

"But it's true, baby, you know. I'm not the one who broke any promises, Wands. I just got tired of begging for crumbs of attention from the person who swore to spend the rest of her days with me."

Wanda lifts her chin, and the determination in her gaze doesn't do justice to the tears. "You knew how much my career meant when you said yes."

You smile sadly, taking one last step to get close enough to hold her face. Wanda shudders as you wipe away her tears, as you have done so many times before, as if no time has passed and everything was fine.

"I am so proud of you, Wands, for all you have accomplished with your work. I only wish I had been as important as this building." 

You place a long kiss on her forehead, pulling away afterward. You offer her one last sad smile before closing the door on your way out. Wanda starts to cry as soon as you have done so, even though she tries very hard to keep her tears away.

–//–

You burned a pancake to answer the door, but all the irritation over the ruined dish vanished when you saw Wanda standing in front of you.

It had only been a few days since you had last seen her, and now all the furniture in your apartment was already packed away and covered with rags, prepared for the time you would be away. Wanda's party dress gave way to a casual suit that made you swallow dryly and become self-conscious of the sweatpants and sports top you were wearing. Wanda wouldn't have picked anything better.

"Are you going to let me in, detka?" Wanda asked with some teasing for your moment of shock. You immediately recovered, making room for her to enter and closing the door once she was in the hall. "Sorry for disturbing your breakfast. I wanted to see you before your flight."

"Oh, don't worry about it. And I'm not going until the afternoon." You clarified somewhat clumsily by her presence, one hand still holding a spatula and the other adjusting your hair. "I made pancakes if you'd like..."

"I would love it." Wanda assured with a smile that made your stomach twist. It wasn't fair that your ex-wife got more beautiful every time you looked at her, honestly.

Wanda followed you back into the kitchen, and to both your surprise, you fell into a light conversation about work and the boys while preparing and serving food, completely different from the tone of the conversation the last time you had seen each other. 

But it was a time bomb, of course, so you weren't surprised when Wanda suddenly bit her lip, assuming a more tense posture. 

Finishing chewing your pancakes, you asked:

"Why are you here, sweetheart?" 

Wanda raised her eyes to you, and you stared back at her, patiently for her to clarify. 

"I wanted to say goodbye to you properly." She said, spinning her own stool around first before tipping her hands around yours to spin you toward her. You raise a brow in curiosity, but the question of what she was doing dies in your throat as she leans in and brings your lips together. 

It has been exactly three months, eighteen days, and sixteen hours since you last kissed Wanda, and you only realize how much you missed the feeling when she does it again. It's as intoxicating as it is overwhelming, and you gasp into her lips, breaking the kiss at once as you stand up, taking good steps away from the countertop.

"Wanda, we talked about this." You remind her in a husky voice, pressing a hand over your face. It's ridiculous how much your skin is burning and your heart is racing for something that lasted less than three seconds. "No relapses. You promised-"

"It's not a relapse." She assured, reaching up and grabbing your hands to place them around her waist. You grunted at the sensation, closing your eyes as Wanda slipped hers over your shoulders, too close for you to think about anything other than her. "It's a parting gift. So you'll have a reason to come back."

"W-what...?"

Wanda presses closer and brings her mouth to your ear. "Just stop overthinking it and accept the gift, detka."

With encouragement, she bites the lobe of your ear, and you give up resisting.

With a tug on her waist, you bring your mouths together in a kiss much hungrier and more passionate than the first, which elicits loud, almost primal moans of need from both of you. Wanda pushes and pulls, and by the time you stumble to the back of the living room couch, your pants are already open and there's nothing covering your torso; much like the woman in front of you, who as soon as she throws you sitting up against the cushions, your breathing out of rhythm and your lips swollen from kissing hard, makes a show of removing the rest of her clothes.

She has time to smile mischievously at your look of pure adoration at her completely naked body in front of you before you pull her onto your lap by her thighs. Wanda climbs on you with a needy grunt, burning from the inside out in anticipation for you to touch her again.

Your touches are almost desperate, your kisses mark her skin. It is your gift, but you also seem determined to make sure that Wanda has the memory of this morning for quite some time. 

When your mouth closes around her nipples, she whimpers to the ceiling, arching her back and steadying her hands in your hair, a soft plea that you not stop.

"Yes, baby, just like that." She encourages over the stimulation on her nipples, breaking into an excited whimper when you simply use your free hand to masturbate her. At any other time, you would have taken your time to work her up until she was begging for your touch, but now, in the urgency you two were sharing, it wasn't necessary. She was ready for you. 

Your fingers penetrate her without delay, and Wanda digs her nails into your shoulder, breaking into a breathless moan. You give one last hickey on her hardened nipple before you move your face back up to hers, kissing her with intensity as your fingers dance inside her walls with the mastery of one who has done this a dozen times, one who knows her like the palm of the hand she so deliberately grinds against in the intention of relieving herself.

"G-god, detka! Right here!" She breaks the kiss into an affected moan, practically meowing as you repeatedly hit that sensitive spot inside her. The wetness grows in your palm, Wanda oozes into you, and to help her, you bring your free hand to her hip, coordinating her movements as she begins to fail. "I-I'm going to..."

"Don't talk, show." You interrupt her with a proud little smile, moving your mouth down to bite the sensitive spots on her neck. "Come to me, baby, I've got you."

That's all she needs to reach the first climax of the morning, and she is not surprised that you don't stop at the first. Or the second, or the third.

You are on your knees on the living room floor when your first alarm goes off. Breathing as out of breath as Wanda, on the couch with her torso exposed and her legs spread from which you against your will need to remove your face to turn off the alarm when you pull away.

She covers herself when you disappear to the kitchen because she knows it's because of the flight, and when you return, the cell phone goes on the coffee table and you sit on the floor next to her on the couch. 

There is a long silent pause, where only your breaths can be heard. Wanda skirts a hickey on her own thigh and you sigh.

"We shouldn't have..." But you can't complete, it because your voice fails you as if you are going to start crying. You look away, and Wanda lets herself fall to your side on the floor, where she reaches for your hand.

"Detka, look at me." She asks, and you have to wait a moment until you sniffle and do so with difficulty.

"I told you it hurts me, Wands. I can't-" You take a deep breath. "I can't heal if this keeps happening. There’s no getting over you if we keep doing this”

She shakes her head. "I don't want you to get over me." She says and you huff, trying to pull her hand away, but Wanda squeezes. "I love you, you know I do."

"Love is not enough." You retort bitterly, your eyes filled with tears. "Loving me doesn't mean you won't hurt me. Nor that you won't ignore me. Those are just words, Wanda. I haven't felt loved by you in a long time."

She releases your hand from the shock of your words, and watches you create a physical distance between you as you walk away. You slip away to the bedroom, muttering that you need to get ready for the flight, and she tries to make a decision the whole time you are in the shower.

When you return to the room, wearing a set of travel clothes, Wanda is wearing your sweatpants and her own dress shirt. Your chest aches to see her wearing your clothes again.

"Wanda, you'd better go, my flight-"

"I love you, detka." She cuts you off with eyes bright with determination as she stares at you. You swallow dry, but can't resist when Wanda reaches up to touch your face. "I will make sure you know it. You'll know it so deeply that you'll be able to feel it in your bones. And you'll never doubt it again."

You sniffle lightly. "Wanda..."

"Don't worry about it now, detka." She interrupts you more gently, caressing your face. "Have a great trip. I'll be here when you come back home."

You sigh, and Wanda doesn't let you say anything more, kissing you in a calmer, but somehow much more intense way than before. 

She leaves the apartment before you, with a wink and a request that you call the boys before and after the flight. 

And even before she gets to the first floor, Wanda has already texted Natasha about her early retirement procedure after her well-deserved family vacation.

[alottiegoingon]

peanuts

lottie matthews x gn!reader

summary: the one where you bring pb&j sandwiches for lottie everyday since you were 9.

warnings: so much fluffiness i might throw up, short silly fic, lottie and reader are childhood friends and secretly in love, no crash, lottie has a bad relationship with her parents, cute little unexpected ending i guess?, english mistakes, not proofread

you and lottie were friends since you were nine years old.

you remember being inside the car with your parents when you moved to new jersey. the roads were bumpy before you could make it to the city of wiskayok. still, you insisted on carrying a book with you during the entire trip, knowing that you would feel nauseous in no time. your parents warned you but, as the quiet and moody kid that didn't want to move, you ignored their advice.

trying to focus on anything else besides your upset stomach, you place the book titled "matilda" by roald dahl, in perfect condition, by your side and decide to enjoy the view outside as the car moves along from the backseat. it wasn't a lifesaver but it was better than feeling your head heavy as you read the tiny words in the paper.

the houses were all the same. boring, lifeless and with a few flowers or bushes outside just to bring some color. what a lame city, you thought. no colorful houses, fun playgrounds or a nice park in sight. but that changed at the exact same moment as you saw lottie's house. a perfect planned garden in the front and impeccably painted walls capable of telling anyone that the house was pretty, yes, but the people living inside of it were superior. liking or not, the house was pretty but not as far pretty as her.

lottie was upstairs in the window of her bedroom when you saw her, you couldn't decide if she was staring outside like she was waiting for something or just watching people go by as if she was trapped inside. either way, she waved at you and, hesitantly, you waved back.

the following years consisted in sleepovers, movie nights and little discussions in the book club you two invented. safe to say that you became best friends almost too immediately.

lottie was a loner when she was home with no one to watch her except for a old lady that worked for the matthew's as a housekeeper or a nanny. you never knew and she was scary. playing pranks on her was almost a daily occurrence and an invention of lottie. like dyeing her clothes pink or switching salt and sugar and watching the distorted face of pure horror and agony in lottie's parents faces during dinner, when they invited you over. you and lottie had to cover your mouth or look down to not laugh but couldn't ever not exchange glances across the table.

her parents knew, of course. "your parents must be waiting for you. it's late isn't it?" was lottie's moms way of telling you to leave. you would say goodbye to lottie and hold her hand extra tight, knowing that the second the door closed behind you, you would hear her parents scolding her. you could see a curious mix between fear and excitement in her eyes when you were about to leave and you thought that that would be the last time she would prank that poor lady, but no. she would always come up with something new. deep down you knew that she was just craving attention from her parents and she would be glad to accept some mean words from them if it meant that they would talk to her instead of disappearing in work.

every day after the pranks were the same. the next morning, you showed up at school with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. one for you and the other one for lottie, of course. maybe it was your way of supporting her as you could. as a nine year old, peanut butter sandwiches were your favorite and you would always eat them if you were feeling sad. you never knew why she would eat it entirely and as fast as she could, kiss your cheek and run away, telling you she was late. it was lunch time and she was nine. what could she possibly be late for?

but the smile on her face exposing her teeth shaped like little fangs every single time she saw you with a simple extra sandwich on hands made just for her, became your new favorite thing in the world.

during your teenage years, nothing changed. almost nothing. lottie was still a loner at home but was kind of a popular girl at school. not like your other friend jackie, but still popular. you and lottie tried for the wiskayok high yellowjackets; a girl's soccer team. you both made it to the team and quickly made some new friendships but nothing as close as what you two had. you were popular as well, sure, but you didn't care about that. it took you a few weeks to realize that jackie was popular because of her personality. you, lottie and other girls were popular because you were on the team.

regardless, after every unsuccessful exam, every bad moment with lottie's parents, every failed practice day, you were right by her side holding a sandwich with silly drawings made out of peanut butter and jelly. despite being best friends, you were both changing. different hair, different ways of dressing, different ways to look at each other. the only thing that never truly changed was the smile on lottie's lips and it was exactly like how you remember from when you were nine.

there was that one day when lottie had an awful day at practice after a fight with her parents last night and she was sitting on the aluminun bench in the locker room. she had her head down and her dark curls styled in low pigtails.

"hi." you sit by her side. she looks up and you notice her red eyes. "hi." she whispers. lottie would never let people see her in vulnerable moments but near you, she wouldn't hide a thing.

"should i go to your house in the middle of the night and dye your parents clothes pink like when we were kids?" your voice was playful but you knew that if the answer was yes, you would happily do it.

you feel your heart beating faster as you hear lottie's breathy laugh and feel proud of yourself for making her happy now. then, in a few seconds, the weak smile faded and the locker room fell into silence.

"do you think i'm a freak?" her words make your heart shatter. lottie would tell you everything, except from that one big secret thing that she was forbidden to talk about by her parents. you never mentioned it after noticing how she would get uncomfortable. or after noticing how her parents would always change the conversation to something else if she was blabbing too much. or when you saw a small orange bottle with pills inside with a label that said "charlotte matthews".

you take a moment to think of something to say until you realize that there was no right thing. lottie just wanted support. she needed your support. "i think you are strong." you say. you knew that she didn't have a choice, she had to be strong. but yet, it was something you admired in her.

"lott, i don't know what is happening and i won't ever force you to tell me. but i know you for years now and i know what you are." she remains quiet but at least she's still looking at you.

"you are so smart. brilliant, actually. you are great at soccer, you have an amazing fashion sense" you joke "a heart of gold."

"and you are beatiful."

lottie says nothing but you can see a subtle spark of relief in her eyes. instead, she hops closer to you and rest her head on your shoulder. you do the same, gently laying your head on top of hers. you were staring at that same old boring blue locker in front of you when you feel lottie's hand grabbing yours. you feel nothing but euphoria when she intertwined your fingers together as your hands were placed between you two.

your smile was so wide that you were actually happy that lottie couldn't see you. and you couldn't see her face as well but something was telling you that she was also smiling while her thumb was Involuntarily caressing your hand. you weren't sure if that was something that best friends did, at least not in such an intimate way. but you were hoping that it meant something more.

you hear steps getting louder and realize that practice was over and the girls were coming to change clothes. unanimously, you two distance yourselves from each other just in time and, taking a quick glance at lottie, you see her face entirely red.

"are you okay, lottie? we were worried. jackie said that she can dismiss you tomorrow." shauna gets closer to you two, touching lottie's shoulder and squeezing it softly in reassurance.

"it's okay. i'm all good." she looks up and smiles at her friend.

you stand up and grab your backpack, pulling out a small paper bag with something unmistakable inside. lottie and shauna look at you and still feeling a bit shaky, you handle it to lottie with a shy smirk and lots of mumble.

"peanut butter sandwich. to make you feel better, you know the drill, right?" you laugh awkwardly and lottie's cheeks that were just going back to its original color, got pinkish again. the same old smile was also there.

"thank you. movie night tonight?" she asks full of hope.

"absolutely. can't wait to watch drew barrymore in scream." you nod excitedly. later that night you would find out that she would only appear in the screen for ten minutes and lottie would make fun of you for that.

after you left, shauna tapped lottie's shoulder to catch her attention. she looked at shauna but her hands were carefully holding the paper bag against her body as if she was taking care of something precious.

"i thought you were allergic to peanuts?" shauna furrows her brows.

"yeah. but it's their favorite."

[happyhauntt]

stay, i pray you — nikolai lantsov.

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: nikolai has a decision to make. anya makes it for him.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: takes place during seige & storm just after sturmhond reveals himself to be nikolai. angst, hurt/no comfort, pre-established relationship. this one's gonna hurt.

─── word count: 2.1k.

     "I've had an idea."

     The military encampment at Kribirsk is as familiar to Anya as the freckles on Nikolai's nose, the garden of her father's estate, the brittle ache of her injured knee. Crashing the Hummingbird had not been part of the plan — and her body had certainly not appreciated the impromptu swim in the nearby lake — but the First Army officers had recognised her and Nikolai, affording them all the honours of their stations and escorting them to the commander's tent.

     Anya hadn't felt all that comfortable with it. She may have been Lieutenant Corporal before her discharge, but it has become increasingly difficult to love the army that raised her while it serves the country that abandoned her. General Raevsky had once been her commanding officer. She and Nikolai had served under him on the northern border, oh, how many years ago now?

They'd both been green as grass, infantry grunts who'd never handled a rifle, never fired a shot or seen a battlefield begin to bleed. Raevsky greeted her like an old friend when they stumbled onto shore, asked how she was fairing as if he hadn't seen her only a few months ago, before she helped the Sun Summoner flee Ravka by smuggling her onto a ship bound for Novyi Zem.

     The tent Anya finds herself in is small but serviceable, with clean, fresh clothes laid out on the bed and a small plate of food waiting on the table. Nikolai disappeared shortly after their arrival, most likely to offer up an explanation to the commanders, but when he finally reappears, he finds Anya combing out the knots of her damp hair with her fingers, changed into a clean, loose shirt and army-issue trousers. She feels as if she never left the army and the thought makes her nauseous.

     "You have an idea?" She raises an eyebrow at him as he steps tentatively inside, allowing the tent flap to fall closed behind him. A playful smirk dances over her face. "Given that your last idea sent us crash-landing into a lake, I must admit I feel a little apprehensive."

     He huffs at her, an almost-chuckle that sends alarm bells ringing in her mind. A jibe like that would usually send him on a ranting spiral, fussing all about how his invention hadn’t been the reason they crashed and had, actually, worked exactly as intended for the majority of their journey.

     Teasing him is easy, and the way he smiles when she does sends warmth pouring through her. Seeing him so subdued is… troubling, to say the least. He hangs up his sword and crosses the tent to perch on the edge of her bed. His eyes remain fixed on the floor the whole time.

     Kneeling in front of him, she allows her fingers to graze over the bruise blossoming on his cheek. His eyes fall closed for a moment. "She really got you, didn't she? Our dear Sun Summoner has a mean right hook."

     "Believe me, I know. Scrappy little thing." Nikolai flexes his jaw and opens his eyes, and all once, Anya knows. It's written in the tiny lines between his brows and the quirk of his mouth and the ache in his eyes.

     "What is it?" she murmurs. Her fingers linger on his face, and he leans into the warmth of her, just slightly. Her knee protests, but she doesn't dare try to stand up. "What's happened?"

     He swallows roughly. "I've told you before, haven't I, about coming back here and helping Ravka. About fixing it before it's too late."

     Whispered conversations in a dimly-lit cabin flutter through her mind. Wishes pressed against her skin with kisses, hopes and dreams caught up in a lover's embrace. I could be better than Vasily, he'd said, and she had believed that, the way she believed the sun would rise in the morning. I could save Ravka.

     She hadn't told him the truth, then. She'd taken his dreams and folded them up into her own chest, to keep safe beside her heart, but she hadn't wanted it the way he did. Anya would sooner see Ravka burn. She cannot bring herself to feel mercy, not where this Saints-forsaken country is concerned. Not after it abandoned her when she needed it most.

     Now, she nods. A damp tendril of hair falls past her eyes. "I remember. You said you... you would find a way to convince Vasily to step aside, and your father would make you the heir. But it wasn't a plan. You said you didn't know how you'd do it, yet. Just that you wished you could."

     She may never forget it. The panic that struck her, bone-deep. The way his ambitions have haunted her ever since. He may not have known it then, but a ticking clock had been set that day. Anya never knew when their time would run out. Only that she would never be ready for it.

     He smiles, now. A rueful thing. There is no need to hide with her, no need to put on that winsome devil-may-care act he wears like armour. She is not a politician he can sway to his side, nor a danger he can charm his way out of, and yet he smiles at her. She is so beautiful, and soft, and she's not wearing her armour, either. Not here, not with him. There is nothing to smile about, and in a few moments it will all be different, but right now she is his, so he has to smile. He has to.

     He may weep, otherwise.

     "Kolya." Her voice is so quiet, barely more than a whisper, and he is so sure that she knows, already, without him having to breathe a word.

     His throat goes horribly tight, an invisible hand wrapped tight around his windpipe, as if that will stop his confession. His eyes flit to the roof for a moment. They start to sting.

     "Alina's power is the key to Ravka's survival," he says. Every word feels like lead on his tongue. "The Apparat has turned her into a living Saint, and the people love her. If I'm to make a bid for the throne and convince Vasily to step aside, it can't just be that I'm the best man for the job. That won't matter. But an alliance with the Sun Summoner might sway the odds in my favour."

     Anya watches him for a long moment. He holds his breath as time stretches, and eternity seems to pass before she even blinks. She withdraws her hand, allowing it to rest lightly on his thigh. The absence of her touch lingering in his face burns like a fresh bullet wound.

     He wonders if you can die from missing someone who hasn't gone anywhere yet.

     "An alliance with Alina." Anya narrows her eyes as the pieces click together in her mind." You mean—"

     "I'm going to ask her to marry me." His throat feels rough as sandpaper. "A political marriage, in name only. The game has changed and Alina is the only one who can level the playing field."

     He keeps talking, but Anya can hardly hear him. Her brain began to buzz with white noise the moment she heard the word marriage, as if her skull is home to a thousand angry wasps and someone suddenly decided to shake the nest. She can feel her blood rushing in her ears, her heartbeat thudding in her throat, but she doesn't dare give herself away.

     Anya Kamenev is a soldier, but she is also a future duchess. Her mother would be proud to learn that all those etiquette lessons didn't go to waste. Summoning a decade of training, her old governess' instructions rattling through her mind, her face remains delicate and empty. Not a muscle twitch or a quiver of her lip, not a hint of sorrow flashing in her eyes. She might as well be carved from marble. Her heart sits in her chest like a stone.

     "Nastya." The nickname he gave her in their army days is salt in an open wound. Nikolai reaches for her, grasps her hands in his as if she is all that can anchor him to this world. "I don't know what to do."

     "Of course you do." Somehow her voice is gentle, even though she feels jagged at the edges, like touching her might make him bleed. An instinct tugs at her, to curl her fingers around his own and hold him just as tight, but she can't bring herself to move. "You wouldn't bring it up to me if you hadn't already thought it through. You're a clever man, Nikolai. The cleverest I know, and don't let that go to your head. You know what you have to do now. You just want my permission to do it."

     Is it crueller, somehow, to ask for permission? To hand over her heart, and the knife too, as if that will make it hurt less when he carves it from her chest?

     A wet laugh bubbles out of him. "Trust you to keep my ego in check even now, Anya."

     "Someone has to," she says. She heaves herself into a standing position, wincing as her knee cracks and tiny bolts of lightning spike up her leg. "Although I think Alina will do a brilliant job. I don't mind handing over that responsibility to her."

     "Don't." Nikolai is on his feet in a moment. One hand remains in hers, his grip tight as a vice, but the other curls around the back of her neck. His thumb brushes softly over her cheek. The warmth of it makes her shudder. "Don't say that like you're going anywhere. I'm not sure I can do any of this without you."

     "Of course you can," Anya murmurs. Saints, she isn't sure the torture she endured at the hands of Shu Han's scientists hurt this much. If she closes her eyes, she can almost believe he's taken a blade and gutted her right here, like a fish on the deck of his ship.

     A ragged breath tears out of him as he says, "Alright, perhaps I can. But I don't want to."

     When he kisses her, it doesn't feel like a kiss goodbye. It doesn't feel like their last kiss in a thousand. There's a ferocity to him as he clutches her, teeth clashing, but that doesn't change the truth of it. He can hold her as tightly as he wants, but they both know she has always been smoke in his hands.

     “I would give you anything,” he says against her mouth, pressed together like hands in prayer. She feels his breath stutter against her tongue, hitched with a sob he will not set free. “Name it. Palaces and jewels, the moon, a temple built in your name, the heads of every man who ever harmed you served on a silver platter. Name it and it’s yours. Just stay.”

     Your heart. The tear slides down her cheek unbidden, and he kisses it away as he has done a thousand times before. She catches his lips with her own and kisses him again, fingers tangled in tendrils of his hair, still rough with saltwater no matter how many times he washes it. Your heart, your hand, a life with you away from this Saints-forsaken country.

     She’ll stay. She will, because Anya is a soldier, and though she no longer has any loyalty to Ravka, she still believes in him. And there is no pain in the world that could hurt more than abandoning him now, no matter how much she wishes she could.

     “Anything.” His voice, barely a whisper, a plea to those forgotten saints who have never seen fit to bestow a miracle upon them. “Anything, my darling.”

     He sinks to his knees before her, presses his forehead to her stomach. She leans and kisses the crown of his scalp, lingering a moment to breathe in the salt and sea of him. Ravka will never know how lucky it is to have a prince so loyal. She doesn’t know what they’d done to earn such devotion.

     “I know.” Despite the tears, her voice is deceptively still. Your heart. But he had already sworn it to his country, long before he ever loved her. “I want the same as you, Nikolai; peace and prosperity for Ravka.”

     He snorts against her stomach. His arms wrap tightly around her middle. “Liar.”

     “Always.” Pushing him away would not be the worst torture she has endured, but she worries it will scar her far longer than any blade could.

[inchidentally]

https://www.tumblr.com/piastrisms/738775293993549824?source=share

I NEED YOUR ANALYSIS OF THIS VIDEO! PLEASE <3

okay listen this has spun me out into a whOLE thing so let's take another trip down a road I like to call Why is the Non-RPF Real Life Relationship between Oscar and Lando So Endearing and Boyish and Sweet:

so my absolute favorite thing about Lando's face when he's relaxed or in his natural element is how absolutely every. single. emotion. he's feeling is broadcast at equal volume. his vulnerability is a massive part of his charisma. but! he has to have the right habitat! streaming, Youtube, his lifelong friends - those are the right habitat.

F1 is not naturally the right habitat.

when Carlos found Lando on his proverbial driver's doorstep he did not know what to make of him and Lando was barely able to squeak out a few words around anyone new or when a camera was around. but! Carlos trained Lando into how to bounce a dynamic between the two of them just like he'd been doing with his last awkward baby, Max. interestingly Max was much more excitable and eager to please of the two and Lando's intense shyness took a LOT of work to get past. but once Carlos had gotten the drift of Lando's super silly sense of humor it was smooth sailing. and then with Daniel it was even easier because half the time Daniel knew he was expected to carry the conversation. it's interesting because Lando allowed a bit of that old shyness to come back and it definitely disarmed Daniel a bit in a satisfying way. but thanks to those big personalities, Lando found his F1 self and even started to deal back and lead occasionally. of course DTS and a lot of media pilloried him for this because apparently what Carlos and Daniel do naturally is seen as snottish and bratty for him to do. the Youtube/streamer personality where he felt so safe did not at all translate onto other platforms and media.

so it hasn't been smooth sailing for Little Lando Norris to know how to be as a person in F1.

cut to 2023 and with the advent of Oscar we've seen a slow dismantling of Lando's F1 PR personality completely in his content with Oscar over the season. their very first unboxeds Lando was still wearing his guarded PR face and assuming he should lead and carry all the content. it was still sort of around for the Jenga/Garden Games challenges but had started to soften around the Austin filming (including the Finish the Lyrics classics). at some point, Lando truly realized that Oscar would still be fond of him even when Lando was in a terrible, low blood sugar type mood (Tic Tac Toe etc) and oh wow!

their content could really just be Lando being whatever he was feeling that day/that moment and Oscar smiling and finding him funny/cute/fascinating! that was enough! he didn't even know that was allowed! (and maybe it wouldn't have been if Oscar wasn't there to bolster him)

and that's when we started getting unguarded, authentic Lando instead of entertaining Lando. and it's because Oscar was the person next to him representing all of us, trying to tell Lando that we just wanted to see him. we didn't care if he was 'on' or not. he's just an interesting outdoor cat we want to watch go about his life.

which is why we got Lando letting himself sit and stare right back at Oscar like this.

where we can see his expressions do that slow blossoming thing, and right in full view of just Oscar. it's the anti-DTS material because it isn't open to the camera and easy to manipulate. narrative television hates when two people go into quiet, subtle communication because it can't be made into a false dramatic arc. (trust me they'll invent one using chopped up footage and even more chopped up commentary lol they always do but it'll be uphill work)

but when you contrast this with the nonstop, quick back-and-forth Lando has with Carlos and Daniel it's where we pick up on the something that's so unique to Lando with Oscar. it's wrong and making way too big an assumption to say it's a closer friendship bc you can't quantify other people's friendships that way. but it's very, very different to those friendships. and the biggest difference that we on the outside can see is that Lando allows himself to determine exactly How He Will Be. and that might change from one minute to the next! and that doesn't always go down well with most people!

but every time, no matter what, Oscar smiles and laughs and everything Lando does is alright. he gets it. Lando means no harm and he's got a good, warm heart. if he likes you then that won't change just because his mood changes.

like their end of season message. Lando went from doing a great job summarizing his thoughts for the viewers, handed it over to Oscar and just... watched. didn't get bored and stare at the camera or off into space. I actually compiled just how often Lando spends staring openly at Oscar into one long gif lol:

he fully knows he's still on camera but he turns himself into a viewer instead of bouncing around and off of what Oscar is saying. Oscar gave him that, he can give it right back.

and there's no specific Lando-Oscar dynamic like there is Lando-Carlos and Lando-Daniel. hell, Lando's got a dynamic with just about anyone. except! Max F, Martin Garrix (and probably quite a few of his friendships that we're never actually even shown) and Oscar. with those people we see Lando be precisely whatever he's feeling at that moment because they'll either indulge it or enjoy it depending on how good or bad the mood is. if it's Lando, it's all good.

I feel like there's a commonality with those people of being quiet but strong as opposed to the big and bold of most of the F1 drivers on the grid. Max F absolutely has obvious similarities to Oscar (I still love how much he sided with Oscar when he watched the 'most likely to' video). I don't know a lot about Martin but it's literally a DJ's job to be enough apart from the crowd to read it and they set the energy passively through what they spin. Oscar is a fun guy who loves being around the people he cares about but he's never The Guy that it all turns around.

and for their own reasons, they find Lando inherently fascinating and lovable. whereas Lando has to inhabit Carlos', Daniel's, George's, etc etc worlds because they are in themselves The Guy Everyone's Watching just like Lando. Lando has to share. he has to figure it out. but guys like Max F and Oscar do not have the energy or interest in being The Guy. they'd choose privacy over popularity every single time if they were made to. and actually come to think of it, they have actively chosen privacy at the expense of popularity quite a few times.

because let's look at Oscar's face when Lando teasingly brings up Oscar's sprint win:

Oscar gives Lando that genuine, affectionate smile and ducks his head because he wants Lando to know that he appreciates it. in truth, that Sprint win was hailed by wider F1 community as being a massive achievement for a rookie in the Max V era of dominance. they both know that it is. but Oscar didn't posture or show off about it and for that Lando has made sure to bring it up on his behalf time and again. Oscar gave him that, Lando can give it back to him.

which is even sweeter going back to that post race video because Oscar gives Lando that same affectionate, private smile. he's had to throw the video's content over to Lando and Lando gave him that big affectionate smile first because this is how they do these videos. it's always awkward - especially if their results that day weren't great - but they know that together they can do these videos and share a laugh over how absurd it feels sometimes.

and the hint of a private joke between the two of them is there early on and you can just feel Lando relax into it.

and when you skip all the way to their last race media duties and this interview, it truly surprised me how much Lando kept checking in with Oscar - the rookie! -as he was answering. when he found himself giving boring PR answers he threw in a joke that he knew Oscar would crease up over. sure enough it loosened them both up.

and like, that's where the vulnerability and openness comes from now with Lando. he's got a teammate who is basically the same age, who gets him and who actively wants Lando to just be Lando. who clearly threw Lando at first by inadvertently foiling those attempts to establish a dynamic or a bromance. who Lando probably at first thought was just shy and awkward. but Oscar stayed true to who he is and kept that door open for Lando to eventually walk through.

so when it's the two of them, it's everyone else who's on the outside looking in. they're just being themselves. if that doesn't make everyone else feel entertained or happy they honestly don't care - and will probably share a secretive little smile about it.

it's also why they sometimes do that twinning thing and creep everyone out asfgjlaflsgjf

[hikarry]

Consider: Aziraphale finding out about the Montero video clip

"Angel!" Oh dear. Whenever he sounded this excited it was never good news. "Do yourself a favor and sit down, yes?"

"Yes. Good morning to you too, my dear."

"Uhum." Aziraphale was not exactly used to being manhandled, but whatever was on Crowley’s mind and was causing whatever frenetic energy this was, made him very inclined to indeed force the angel to sit down on the big chair, holding him by the shoulders and pushing him down very unceremoniously. "I found something hilarious."

"Is that so?" Crowley sat on the arm of the chair, crossing his legs in a probably not very comfortable position, but after 6000 years Aziraphale was of the opinion the demon had not a single bone in his corporation.

With a swift motion he grabbed his phone from his back pocket and typed something quickly. Aziraphale was looking at the phone, more out of politeness than anything else. He had no idea what was going on on that tiny screen.

"Yes." Crowley couldn't help but snort, even though the supposedly funny thing was not on display yet. "It's a song. An oldish one at that, I don't know how I didn't find it earlier."

"Oh, bebop?" The angel let his body relax against the back rest of the chair. "You know you and I have very different tastes when it comes to music."

The demon clicked his tongue in response, quite clearly not paying enough attention to form proper words. He snorted again when he finally found whatever it was he was looking for.

"The song isn't the point. It's catchy, but not my thing." He leaned over Aziraphale, arm against arm, putting the phone in front of both of them. "I will give you 5 seconds to guess what is it we are looking at."

"5 seconds? That's sound a little unfair, don't you th-" Too late, the video had began. Aziraphale actually made an effort to try and amuse Crowley, just this once. There were a lot of clouds and very vibrant colors. Some type of garden with Greek like ruins. "A garden? In Greece?"

"A garden, yes. In Greece, no. Keep watching. Last chance."

The video kept rolling and Aziraphale could physically feel how constricted like a spring ready to jump Crowley was becoming beside him.

"Oh, a snake! It has your colors, doesn't it? Are black and red snakes natural in nature?"

"Focus, angel."

Right, focus.

"It's a big snake."

"Yes. A snake. In a garden. Hm?"

"Yes, I can see it, Crowley. I'm not-" Okay, yes. Snakes didn't usually turns into humanoid creatures. In a garden...gasp. "Is this supposed to be the Garden of Eden?! And you?!"

"No, not me. Inspired by me, more like. But yes! Exactly!"

"The Garden didn't look anything like that. Greek architecture had not been invented back then yet."

"And pink grass had?"

"...Do I show up?"

"Nah. There's enough songs about angels."

"I beg to-." Right, stuff was going down hill. "They...turned you quite sexual, didn't they?"

"Not me. Inspired by me." Yes, details. "And I am the demon of Temptation. What's more tempting than sex?"

"A good Oscar Wilde first edition, for starters." Aziraphale mumbled, but Crowley clearly heard.

"Right. Oscar Wilde. I thought we were talking about me."

"I thought you said it wasn't you?"

"Ngk. Technically not me. Anyway, that's what I wanted to show you. But-" He pulled the video forward slightly. "Let me show you what humans are doing with the imagery of Lucifer nowadays."

"Is he...going to Hell down a pole?"

"You've heard of pole dancing?"

"Yes. Mrs. Sandwich enlightened me." The angel adjusted the glasses on his nose, leaning slightly forward so he could look closer at the video. "Didn't you have some boots like those back in the 80s?"

"Myeah. Similar."

"I never saw you wearing them again. Whatever happened to them?"

"Probably in the flat somewhere. I haven't been female for a hot second."

"Your point?"

Crowley looked down at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"What?"

"Are you saying you can't wear them anymore because you've been male for 4 decades?"

"Well-"

"Correct me if I'm mistaken, but," he pointed at the video. "That looks like a young man to me."

"Hm. Touché."

"What is he doing now?"

"That's called a lap dance."

"He is dancing in the lap of Satan?"

"Maybe he would have been a better boss if he had been given a couple of lap dances between the millennia."

"...is this allowed?"

"I don't see why not. I like the sense of humor." As the video ended, he put it back again on his back pocket.

"I was right. It was bebop."

"As I said: not my thing either." Aziraphale folded his hands on his lap, the movement being closely watched by the demon besides him.

"I see you are still inspiring generations. Humans always did make interesting artwork with your resemblance." Crowley didn't answer. Aziraphale stayed quiet a couple more moments, waiting for him to say something. "Crowley?"

"Yeah. So. Hm." He seemed to have been snapped out of his own thoughts, laying his hands on his knee and slightly leaning towards the angel. "About those boots-"

[mycupofrum]

Oooh would you write Prongsfoot in their 30s, both married (maybe even moth to women) and settled and everything is fine, or not so fine. They begin to fall for each other and question their lifes and need to make a decision. I need them to fall in love in their 30s so bad!

If it's to complex for ~100 words you can change it, or you don't have to do it at all of course 😂🙏🏼but you always come up with great ideas and I will love everything. Get well soon 🩷

Hi! 🤩 Thank you for the amazing prompt!! ❤️ I ditched any word limits right away because this needed to be told in as many words as it took. :D Here you go, Prongsfoot falling in love in their 30s with mentions of James/Lily and Sirius/Marlene.

Rating: T

CW/TW: Cheating. DLDR.

__

What it's always been 

"Want to see my latest invention, Padfoot?" James asked after a scrumptious Sunday roast at the Potter house. 

With an easy grin, Sirius agreed, and Lily and Marlene rolled their eyes as their husbands retreated to the garden shed. James loved to experiment with spells and charms, something only Sirius had shown interested in lately. 

Sirius's smile disappeared as he closed the door behind him. Their eyes locked. 

"Something on your mind, Prongs?" 

"I've been thinking. About last time." 

A week ago, they kissed for the first time in twelve years. One moment, Sirius was praising James for his brilliant spellwork, the next he was interrupted by a brief, tentative brush of the lips. Then another, and another, until they were gasping, hands in each other's pants.

They used to do it for fun, a bit of adolescent experimentation before anything could be taken too seriously. Before their marriages, and before James became a father, and Sirius became Harry's godfather. Before their jobs and responsibilities. Before life became so predictable that it sometimes threatened to suffocate Sirius.  

"And?" Sirius's voice didn't quiver, despite his heart's unsteady flutter. 

James took a step closer, his gaze lingering on Sirius's mouth. "We shouldn't have done it." 

Sirius's expression remained unchanged, but his nails dug into his palms. "I agree. So, we'll forget about it?" 

James, now standing right in front of Sirius, reached behind him to lock the door.  

"I didn't say that." 

His warm breath on Sirius's chin sent shivers all over his body before their lips crushed together. Sirius barely heard the thud as his back hit the door; there was only James, his tongue in his mouth and hands in his hair. His hard, lean body pressed against Sirius's, their hips aligned, and a soft moan escaped from James's lips, which in turn caused Sirius to groan. 

James. His only breath of fresh air, the one constant he never grew tired of. 

"Fuck. This feels good. You feel good," James muttered, his body shaking beneath Sirius's touch.

"I love you." The words slipped out before Sirius could stop them. 

James froze, taking a shuddering breath and leaned his forehead against Sirius's temple. "Are you sure?" 

Sirius merely nodded. 

"Shit." James caressed Sirius's hair, his lips brushing Sirius's cheek. "That's what this is, then? What it's always been." 

Sirius clutched James's shirt, the only lifeline he could hold onto as his heart filled with hope and a twinge of guilt stung his insides, the two contradicting emotions equally as strong.  

Sweet Marlene, ten years his senior, passionate and opinionated. They'd chosen a life together, child-free and happy, until the last few years when their words cut a little too deep and clashed a little too often. Still, she didn't deserve this. Neither did Lily.

"I love you," Sirius repeated because it was the only truth that remained. 

James's glasses were tilted, and he hastily removed them before rubbing his eyes.  

"I love you too," came his broken reply. His hand fell down, revealing a pair of misty eyes. "This changes everything." 

Sirius, similarly shaken by the sudden revelation, sighed as his hand found James's, their fingers interlacing.  

"I know." 

__

[artofhazbinhotel]

heyyy you can do a guitarspear short in the garden of eden (where maybe, if you want, Lute will be a curious angel about the new creation/Adam lol)

Here we go! Hopefully it was worth the wait, I had a lot of fun writing this :)

Alone sat a man, alone for the second time, while his wife had been condemned for her sins he wasn't, she was banished and he wasn't. He wouldn't be alone if his kids were awake but the late night silence was better than their cries about where their mother went. He blamed Lucifer for what happened to Eve, not her, she was just listening to a man and that's what she had been taught, if only Lilith learned that, maybe she wouldn't have chosen Lucifer over him, she was too difficult for him. He likes to think he's the one who wanted that to end, not her. The lake he sat by in the grass reflected the moon and he cupped some of the water to his mouth to drink, drinking away your sorrows hadn't been invented yet but he'd try.

He was interrupted by the sight of an angel slowly flying down to him, he wanted to be annoyed but she was kind of hot in his opinion. Long light silver hair, golden eyes with thick lashes, a flowy dress of black and white patterns and matching black and white wings large enough to support her. She landed in front of him and took a seat next to him in the grass, quiet for a minute, like she was thinking of what to say. "I'm sorry about what happened to Eve" she finally said. He sighed, "Geez does all of heaven know? I must look like some fucking loser." She tilted her head "What does fucking mean?"

Adam snickered running a hand through his hair "Oh right, I made it up, it's like something you add before a word to make it sound cooler, what do you think?" He looked at her for approval, he'd always assumed angels would be bigger until he saw Lucifer and now her, she's tiny. The angel thought about it before offering an awkward snicker in return "I like it, maybe I'll use it" He offered a high-five with an enthusiastic: "Hell yeah!" But she wasn't sure what to do so he took her hand and make it tap his for her then let go, it fell back at her side. "So what's your name?"

"I don't have a name" Adam's eyes widened in offense for her "That's lame, what about I give you one?" She smiled and nodded. Adam took her in again, what words come to mind? The animal names were made up, she should get something that doesn't exist yet. "Lulu.. no that's dumb. Light. Already exist." He tapped his head before snapping his fingers, "Lute!" Her eyes lit up, to have the person she's been watching from afar give her this gift was a warm feeling. "I like it"

"Well, it's nice to meet you Lute" "Nice to meet you too, Adam, I always wanted to but it didn't feel like the right time." He tilts his head, "What do you mean?" Lute sighed "As an angel the only way I can access this world is if a soul needs me, I jumped at the chance" "I guess that makes sense, but does that mean you can't visit unless I'm sad?"

Lute paused before answering, "I can sneak out" The human was kind of impressed, "Risky, I like it" Before their chat can continue a small pair of hands tapped Adam's shoulder lightly but several times. He looked down to see Abel, not very old yet. "Hey buddy, what you doing up?" Abel sat beside his father and pointed to Lute "Who's the pretty lady daddy? Is she our new mommy?" Lute blushed embarrassed and shook her head "No no, I'm just an angel-"

Abel stumbled over and snuggled up to her wing "You're like a birdy" Adam picked up his son "Hey you can't go getting all handsy with the ladies unless they're into it" Abel nodded and Lute stood. "I'm sorry to cut this short but I really should be heading back, I have a lot of responsibility up there" Adam looked at Abel and joked "See? Look what you did" Abel just immediately started crying"Wait fuck- I was joking!" He bounced him panicking, Eve was so much better at this parenting thing than he was.

Lute didn't judge, she'd have no idea what to do with a tiny human either. She waved goodbye and so did Adam. Her wings spread and she went back up, he was looking forward to seeing her again, it was the first time he'd felt happy in a while. Okay back to the crying baby, he just kept shaking up and down like a protein drink "Hush little baby don't say a word-" awkward singing ensues.

The two continued their meetings until eventually Adam's death came, Lute watched from behind the gates to welcome him as he was let him in. She took in his new appearance, golden wings and a considerable height boost. "I can show you around" She suggested but he was just excited to see her and lifted her with ease, crushing her against his chest. "Lute! This is great, now we can hang out all we want!" The other angel blushed being so close and tried to shove away, wings flapping rapidly. "Yeah- great- you can put me down now."

Adam nods and sits her down "Oops sorry" He laughed as she fixed her hair. Their conversation was interrupted again by something mirroring their first, it was Abel. "You look so majestic father! I missed you" Adam ran over and ruffled his brown hair, it matched his own. "Not too bad yourself, look at those wings!" Lute watched them with a small smile, it was sweet to see the reunion Abel always talked about, she never filled the mother role in his life, but she did let him ask about his father, she'd never complain to talk about him.

[evesaintyves]

Trick or treat! 🍭

thank you @annabtg !!

i know you like jily so im writing you a @jilymicrofics i guess? i've never really written these two characters before except as guest appearances but here goes

(863 words)

Scouring charms were invented by a man, it's obvious, because it takes about nine passes to get the dried-up spat-out Pablum off the wall. James thinks the mess is cute and she should leave it—it's almost like art, he said once, the spatter-pattern of flecks on the wallpaper. He was raised with house-elves and never learned to clean. Right, our little Jackson Pollock, Lily muttered, and James didn't know what she was talking about.

Every day he disappears into the box room and polishes a broom he hasn't ridden in months. Sometimes the two of them duel in the back garden, with Harry in his highchair behind an iridescent bubble of defensive spells. James rarely gets a shot past Lily, but when he does, Harry cackles in his strangely bawdy toddler way and smacks the biscuit crumbs around on his tray. It can feel a bit like they're ganging up on her. James swaggers up, clears up her boils or whatever else he's hexed her with, and then murmurs in her ear, why don't we put him in his cot and have a lie down?

It wasn't so long ago that she'd have giggled and dragged him upstairs by the hand. Now she says I really ought to degnome the garden, they're digging up all our leeks, and for just a second there's a look on his face like he might suggest they just do it right here in the garden, but he doesn't. He doesn't offer to help, either. He scoops Harry up, takes him off to build a castle with the blocks she's always somehow stepping on. She zaps the gnomes with disproportionate venom and spends most of the afternoon outside.

This life looks so much like what she'd imagined, little cottage, ivy climbing round the door, kitten and baby and husband cuddled up in the big downy bed, but it feels so different—like when you look at a photograph and your face is asymmetrical and weird, different from the mirror, familiar but wrong. These curtain-twitching, lay-low, you're joking me Mad-Eye he's been a mate since forever days of known unknowns and unknown unknowns and nightmares, constantly, of being chased; worse, almost, this ennui of stuffing nappies down the overflowing bin and picking up the hundred socks James somehow peels off daily.

When she was a girl, the morning glory on the chain-link fence used to turn their purple faces to follow her. She still remembers, and sometimes recites in her head, the fussy formulas for wolfsbane, veritaserum, the little trick for making a paste of aconite with the side of her knife.

Even Petunia, these days, is leaving her boy with a sitter and going to cocktail parties, holidays by the sea—that's what Mum said in her very last letter, anyway. She sounded so proud. Lily used to think she'd done well for herself, pulled off quite a trick, married for love and got money in the bargain, but now she might as well be in some pebbledash in Cokeworth, sweeping the kitchen lino. At least she'd get to go out to the shops.

Ten scouring charms later, she can still feel the grit of cereal bits when she runs her nails over the wall. The wallpaper's going discoloured, there, and it's hard to tell anymore what's paisley and what's Pablum. Lily half-remembers a story she read, or maybe heard about, where a woman falls ill and goes spare looking at the wallpaper in her sickroom. The thing is, Lily can't imagine being bedridden, going mad. Who has the time? Who would do the laundry?

I feel like a waste of talent, she whispers to James that night, in that shifting awkwardness before sleep, when she's wondering if he'll reach for her and trying to decide if she wants him to. This time he does: slides his hand down her arm and interlocks his fingers with hers.

You're not a waste of anything, he tells her. He presses a kiss to her neck and then buries his nose in the hair behind her ear. After a minute: This isn't a waste. It's like school. Like detention. We just have to get through it so we can go on with life.

I never got detention, she says.

Well, I'm sorry. You missed a lot of fun.

Lily snorts.

Seriously, James says. Maybe I'm just stir-crazy, but I actually miss it.

You just miss chatting shit with Sirius.

Well yeah, all right? But I miss those times. Even the boring, shitty times. One of these days—

Lily rolls her eyes. Oh, stop.

—No, let me finish, one of these days Harry will be off at school and we'll be moaning, oh, I miss when he was just little, getting peas in the carpet—

You're not the one cleaning up the peas.

Well, you're better at that sort of thing. But I do about three-quarters of the nappies.

Lily sucks her teeth. That's true.

See, he says, sounding delighted. We agree!

Harry and the kitten are both snoring, and five minutes later, James is too. When Lily finally closes her eyes, the paisley-swirls and speckles are there inside her eyelids.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Do you think religion should be sacrosanct or open to discussion?

I think religion's greatest trick wasn't convincing some people that there was a god who was all powerful. It was convincing everyone else that you couldn't ridicule the idea.

Do people really believe the myths they invent?

It's when you get them. I think they're be more atheists and less faithful if you weren't allowed to teach anything, you weren't allowed to mention any gods or any beliefs, or atheism, right, until they were 20. I think we'd see a different pattern

The human brain, when it's young, is a sponge. It has to be. It has to take in all the information. It has to trust its parents, its elders, to survive. Without question. Don't touch the fire. Why not? Don't go near the wolf. Don't touch that spider with a red dot, don't touch that. Why not? Just don't.

There is a god. What? There is a god, and if you're bad, you go to hell, okay?

And if that's constantly confirmed like all the other things - wolves eat you, black widows kill you, fires burn you - if it's given that same level of credence and truth, you're never going to get over it. It's going to be a lot harder to undo that.

I think the myths came up, made often as a stop gap to to knowledge, until we find out more. The Earth is flat. Nom we've proven that. Okay the Earth's not flat, we were wrong, okay.

But that's not personal. You don't take that personally. It doesn't affect you. It doesn't affect your afterlife. And so, they often want to hold on to to that, but only because of the way they've been conditioned.

We know it's fun to tell children there's a Santa Claus and there's fairies at the bottom of the garden and all these cute things. It's cute till they're seven or eight. If they're 34, it's a bit embarrassing socially. This is my son. What's he doing? He's looking for fairies. Is he, okay we better leave.

If you're born in India, you're probably a Hindu. If you're born in America, you're probably a Christian you're born in Pakistan, you're probably a Muslim. That's a coincidence isn't it? That you're always born into the right god. Always. Isn't that lucky? I was born into the right god. All those others are going to hell. But I was born into the right religion. I'm going to heaven.

It's strange that we hold on to these medieval beliefs. Where did the universe come from? God made it. Which doesn't solve the problem for me, because we say well, who made god? And if they say, well he's always been around, well let's just say the universe has then. Let's just cut out the middle man. It saves time.

Do you think a deep understanding of science necessarily leads to a disbelief in God?

We're all born atheists. And then that gets changed or enhanced. I mean, there shouldn't even be a word for atheism. It shouldn't exist, shouldn't need it. There's not a word for not believing in fairies. And if people didn't keep inventing these weird, impossible deities we wouldn't have to go around denying them.

Do you think it's problematic to live a life based on myths?

It's a matter of degrees. If you go around feeling good because, whatever life throws at you, it'll all be okay in heaven, that's great. Doesn't affect anyone. Fine.

If you pray that you'll do well at work, and then you try hard and do well at work and you believe it was the praying, fine. We know it wasn't. We know the praying was irrelevant. We know praying without actually doing anything doesn't do anything. Praying and then working towards something... Praying to me is like making a list. That's all it does. It may even motivate you, it may even, you know... it's getting your thoughts clear .

Thinking there's someone hearing you and changing stuff, that's something else. But again, still not harmful.

But if you start doing crazy stuff because god's telling you to, that affects me. I've gotta stop you there.

And if someone goes around saying there is a god, and bad people go to hell, fine. Doesn't affect me. If they go around saying there is a god and bad people go to hell, I'm going to help god send them to hell by stoning them to death... whoa. He doesn't need your help. He's all powerful chill out. God's got this one.

Do you think it's appropriate to encourage people to challenge their own beliefs?

I think it's very important you challenge your own beliefs. I mean, that's what science does really. It doesn't constantly try and prove itself right. iIt follows the evidence, whatever that is. In fact it tries to prove itself wrong.

It doesn't sulk. When science thinks something and then it discovers it wasn't right it doesn't sulk, because it found that out too.

This is the question I often get, that people say well you're an atheist, you're close-minded. No, I'm not. That's a strange thing to say. I think the opposite is true. I'm going to always follow the evidence, whatever that is. And they say things like, if someone proved to you god existed, would you believe? Well, of course I would. By definition.

In fact, it would be the greatest scientific discovery of all time. Scientists would celebrate. They'd run round. At the moment, we have no evidence for the existence of any god or anything supernatural. Never have, possibly never will. But who knows? We'll cross that bridge we come to it.

When someone puts forward a jar of god, we'll test it for its godiness, and if we find there's anything godly in it, we'll write it down.

Other thoughts?

I get asked questions like, what do you think it feels like when you're dead? And I always say, what did it feel like for the billions of years before you were born? Like that.

And there's also this strange thing that I get from faithful people. Why don't you believe in god? Well, that's a very strange question, why don't you believe in god. You came up with it. Why would I?

As to saying, I don't know, if you're agnostic about god in all his glory and in all his impossibility, you've got to be the same about Santa. You have got to say, I don't know.

I want to say to an agnostic, what's your best guess then? Go on, have a have a punt. In fact I don't ask agnostics, I don't say to agnostics, is there a god? I say, do you believe in god? Now, you can't say, I don't know, to that question because if you say, I don't know, you're an idiot. What, you don't know if you believe or not?

And I had this discussion with someone on Twitter actually, and he said, well that's not true because I can ask you, am I wearing a red jumper and you have no way of informing your guess. And that's true.

But now ask me if you're wearing a red jumper that created the universe. Now I can have a little guess. No. No you are not. It's mental.

if you throw a a load of coins on the floor, no one arrangement is more amazing than another. And it's sort of like they work backwards. Because this is what happened, this is what we think is perfection. So we try and... we can't get around the fact that... it's crazy, we got two eyes. That's exactly where I'd put them. You know, these are brilliant. This is exactly... if I was making a person, I'd make it just like me. And it's hard not to think there was a will to it. But there wasn't.

Q: You know the Mark Twain quote about, it's so great that I have ears here to hold up these things, we have glasses and these ears are just perfect for that.

Exactly, yeah. What's particularly good about that, it's a double whammy. Because he's being sarcastic about evolution, but in a strange way, people should take the analogy of the glasses, because we know those glasses were made for ears. Do you know what I mean?

It's strange. We know that we did that. And no one would ever go, what a coincidence. Someone, I just found these weird glasses on the floor and they fit my ears. Right. And that's what people can't get around, because they want to do that with everything.

They want to do that with, you know, wasn't it great when he made bees like pollen? That was a master stroke. I could just add flowers and bees. He went, no I'm going to make them need each other.

Brilliant.

[wheels-of-despair]

Booked Pairing: Billy Knight x You Summary: Billy Knight didn't like to read... until he met you. Contains: Way-back flashback, fluff, nerves, nerds in love. Word Count: 1k

Billy Knight loved to read.

However, he did not discover this until he met you.

When he was a child, reading was something he had to do in school. He only read the books he was assigned, and they did not excite him. He went through the motions to get a passing grade - or else - and thought no more of it. The only books left in the Knights' cottage, after his father burned everything that reminded him of his wife, were either instructional or political, and those did not interest young Billy.

The first time he visited your home, he couldn't take his eyes away from your bookshelf. You'd noticed it and tried not to say anything, but eventually, you just couldn't help yourself.

"See something you like?" you asked with a smile, tilting your head into his eyeline from your place beside him on the couch.

"No… sorry." He glanced into your eyes and then down at his hands.

"It's alright. I know they're a mess, but organizing tends to be an all-day project, and I just haven't had the time," you explained, suddenly very self-conscious. Why hadn't you cleaned up more?

"S'not that. It's just… you read all those?"

You laughed softly. "That's the dream. I'd like to read everything, but somehow, I just keep reading the same ones over and over again. Y'know?"

He didn't. He looked up nervously. He did everything nervously in those days.

"Do you have a favorite book?" you asked, hoping to find some common ground. He shook his head, a blush spreading across his face and down his neck.

"That's alright. I had to read so many awful books in school, sometimes I thought I'd never voluntarily pick one up again."

"M'not very good at it," he said quickly.

"Good at what?"

"Reading."

You paused, not entirely sure what to say to that. His fingers picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater.

"You don't have to be good at it to enjoy it," you said gently. "I suppose that's true for just about everything."

He looked thoughtful, like he was considering it.

"Have you ever read a book you liked?"

He chewed his bottom lip as his eyes drifted around the room. After a moment, he spoke slowly, not meeting your eye. "My mum used to read me stories about animals."

Your face lit up. "I love stories about animals."

"These were for kids." He shifted nervously. "It was a long time ago."

"There's no age limit on a good book. I still have most of my childhood favorites. Just finished re-reading one last night."

"You still read kid books?" He stared at you with a mildly surprised look. If it had been anyone else, your face would have been burning at this point. But you could sense that Billy wasn't judging you for reading children's books. He was genuinely curious. You nodded.

"Sometimes when things aren't going great, diving back into one of those helps. Suddenly, I'm not a grown-up struggling to exist. I'm a kid who's learning how to use magic, or sailing the high seas, or sneaking into a secret garden. I've lived on the prairie, in castles, on a deserted island, in…" Suddenly aware that you were very close to getting carried away, you decided to cut your rambling short, before he invented an appointment he simply couldn't be late for. "Sometimes I just need to be anywhere but here."

He stared, and after a moment, asked, "You get all that from books?"

"Yeah," you admitted with your eyes on the rug, fearing you'd scared him off with your nerdy little tangent. Well done, loser, hope your books are a great source of comfort for you as you die alone.

"I think I've been reading the wrong books." Your head snapped up. You thought he'd be running for the door by now, but he's still there, giving you a shy smile. Your heart felt like it was about to burst.

"Shall we fix that?" Please say yes, you thought, trying to keep your face from showing just how happy you were to share this with him. He gave you a nod, barely containing his own excitement. "Come on," you said, beaming as you got off the couch.

He followed you over to the section where most of your childhood favorites lived. You never let anyone borrow your books - a water-damaged copy of Eragon returned without so much as a "sorry" had been the last straw - but you trusted him. You didn't know why, but you trusted Billy Knight immediately, more than all the lifelong friends and family who were now on the Banned from Borrowing list.

He wasn't a strong reader, at first. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd opened a book. But he started small and worked his way up, and found that he genuinely enjoyed losing himself between the pages of a good book. You welcomed him into fantastic worlds he never would have discovered on his own. And when you talked about them afterwards, it was almost like you were living in those wonderful worlds together. That was his favorite part.

He didn't know it at the time, but when you realized he'd be making his way through all your old favorites, you read them again. You wanted to be able to answer questions and discuss the details with him. Billy was a very observant person, and you didn't want to let him down. He'd been so impressed at how much you'd remembered about those books from your childhood, not knowing that after he left each night, you had stayed up 'til the early hours of the morning to re-read your next recommendation. Years later, when you finally admitted this, he laughed and felt himself falling a little more in love with the person he wanted by his side in his favorite world of all.

[grandhotelabyss]

The substack on "seperating the art from the artist" was interesting. But one detail lead me to a question - childrens books.

I know it was mostly used to mock people who don't want to engadge with anything "icky" as the demographic probably likes to say, but still.

So the question is, should books for kids be squeaky clean, be these gardens of eden were no evil shows its head, till they grow into the maturity which will let them confront the barbarity of literature vis a vis reality?

One could already use this as a segway to argue the opposite - that with the amount of adults not being able to deal with literature going against their provincal pseudo-morals, children should be "trained" from young age to not be like that - the point of childhood is paradoxically to grow out of it, even if many dont want to.

But on the other hand, and this may reveal myself to be the object of the previous high-nosed snot shower:

I kinda do feel "icky" when I think about all these kids books that try to be "hehe, I'm gonna show kids the real world!"

Like that Matilda author, forgot his name, I remember a year ago there was some fake drama about censorship which ofcourse was stupid but still

I do feel some kind of spite, that irony, that want to be subversive that goes against the idealised view of childhood.

Or maybe my realistic view - with all the cruelty and unavoidable misery - but that wants me to say, "why expose them to more of it?"

Because intuition tells me that those "edgy" childrens book have a simmilar ethos as a teenaged kid trying to teach a todler swear words, or to do a roman salute or whatever, this corrupting of the innocent for the sake of it.

But maybe this whole ramble is just the result of a Lacanian wish to crawl back into the vomb, my lile of Preussler's books just a want to become the little ghost who just can fly around in his eternal castle never growing up.

Still ofcourse I get that it is absurd to rant against Matilda with all the childrens media going way further in many ways and the fact that even I as a young child easily acceseed stuff I wasnt supossed to.

So maybe I answerred my own question - maybe there shouldnt even be childrens books in the first place, just books that are more and less apropriate for younger and yet younger kids.

(Also they should burn all those obviously on porpuse braindead picture books, you know the type lol)

Yes, as I discussed here, I didn't really read children's books unless made to and don't find it to be all that appealing a category. People thought comic books were like children's books, so I was happily reading Grant Morrison's occult phantasmagoria, Frank Miller's post-apocalyptic reactionary satire, and Alan Moore's Freudian traumatology of the archetypes at the age of five and six—and I wouldn't have it any other way. Anyway, the writers who shifted children's books out of their moralizing paradigm and into neo-modernist aesthetic integrity in the late 19th century tended to be either quasi-pedophiles like Carroll and Barrie or figures like Potter rather deliberately trying to expose children to the tooth-and-claw realities polite society otherwise evaded. Children's primordial innocence was a useful historical construct, the slowly evolving joint work of Christianity and the Enlightenment, and we are rightly suspicious of those who would tamper too much with it today; but it was a historical construct, it has produced its own return-of-the-repressed shadow (it's likely generated as much pedophilia as it's ever discouraged by inventing the taboo to be profaned), and it has been carried to unconscionable extremes of life-aversion and anti-intellectualism in our time (e.g., the "brain" doesn't "finish" till age 25 or whatever other ridiculous scientific myth of permanent incapacity we're supposed to believe based on the latest spate of fake "studies" these days). People are probably just people at any age from the onset of consciousness forward—I am aware of no great shift in the core of my identity since about the age of five and never thought of myself as a child—and, because there is alas no protecting everyone from everything in the end, they should at least be armed with knowledge and cultivation at the earliest possible moment.

[jenukiart]

OC Stuff - BKW - The Bomb Brigade

This one's a doozy cuz each member has a lot going on so strap in!!!

Their job is to hunt intergalactic monsters, beasts, and other such dangerous anomalies. With Kisyku running around rampant across the Cosmos, he quickly becomes their biggest target yet!! While their heavy duty weaponry and means of combat mean serious business, the brigade often gets caught up in numerous misadventures (sometimes they're just outright hard to take seriously...)

Also.. I call them the Bomb Brigade as their official title, but I'd imagine in the actual story the name alliteration gets mixed up and butchered every single time, as if no one can remember the actual name hahahaha. Anywhos..

Bombs

Bombs is the head-honcho of the Brigade. He's a human from Earth who leads his team with great confidence (sometimes to a fault). He can be stubborn.. and.. hard to co-operate with sometimes.. but all in all he's a captain who cares deeply for the whole team. Each member to him is like family, so he's always doing anything he can to look out for them.

I'd imagine whenever the Brigade needs to put up with Kisyku (like a temporary truce, or whenever they eventually form an alliance later in the story), him and Bombs would be that kind of friendly rival dynamic that just has them constantly arguing while they have to put up with each others annoyances.

Bombs also has an interesting speech-style, adding a lot of S to the end of words and stuff.. He also has a big rocket launcher, because he believes anything can be solved with explosives.

Bits and Blitz

Bits is little shark-manta-alien-thing who was recruited by Bombs for his incredible technical prowess. He's super smart, and having four hands is quite helpful when you're the team's primary mechanic. Outside of his technical craft, however, he enjoys gardening a lot. Bombs even lets him have his own garden room on the ship! He also just talks with a lot of sailor/sea terminology hahaha

Bits invented Blitz before joining Bombs, but she was just the orb/eye part back then. She didn't get the laser cannon extension until Bits built Bash (yeah he built Bash too!!). Bits has been meaning to give her a proper robot body, but she's actually happy being just the way she is.

Blitz is like a sister to Bits, having a cheery heart-of-gold. She speaks in beeps, chirps, and whirs, but everyone can still understand what she has to say anyways. She's a great listener, and often the one the Brigade members (especially Bury...) confide in to talk about their feelings. Despite her physical limitations she's still a girl at heart, doing things like makeup and stuff. :P

Bash

The Brigade often searches through the aftermath of places Kisyku’s been for anything useful. He tends to really bust up facilities and machines for some reason. Bits managed to collect enough scraps and parts to give Blitz a laser cannon, and eventually construct Bash.

Bash is forged from the scraps of Kisyku’s destruction. He has one goal and one goal alone and it's to "kill the Celestial." That tunnel-vision mindset is kinda like Android 16 in DBZA, except Bash is also very arrogant too. He often sees himself as the superior being, the greatest, flawless, you get the idea. Somehow though, he's just co-operative enough to still be tolerable... except with Bury... him and Bury kinda argue like a LOT.

Unlike the weaponry used by the rest of the Brigade, Bash specializes in sheer physical strength and agility. He can spin his body around a whole 360 degrees, making him very a versatile threat able to keep up with someone as quick and nimble as Kisyku.

Eventually, Bits constructs the Giga Bash, a giant mecha that the Brigade uses at the climax of their rivalry with Kisyku in attempt to finish him off once and for all! This form of Bash is piloted by the rest of the Brigade, and has tons of features like missiles, swords, lasers, and all sorts of heavy duty artillery.

Kisk does.. end up beating the Giga Bash though.. I'd imagine it's then that they finally put the bounty stuff aside for good. Though I imagined later big story beats will have them bring Giga back out again to help out with massive threats Kisk faces.

Bury

Oh boy uhm. Bury is. interesting. She's my personal favorite member of the Brigade! It's probably why she's the only one I have a proper reference sheet of, haha

Not much is really known about Bury, The Brigade, by complete and utter luck, just found her unconscious on a desolate planet. They were there just looking for parts and stuff, so it was a complete "right place right time" sorta deal to even have found her.

Thankfully, they were able to recover her back to health, Bits even gave her a prosthetic arm to replace the one she was missing.

But Bury is a total mystery to the Brigade, she refuses to elaborate about her past, why she was stranded, etc. Whenever they prod her about it, she's very cold, rude, and defensive about it.

Eventually they just stop trying to push something out, and learn to just live with her as she is now. Doesn't mean things are awkward though. Despite her mean-girl nature, Bury gets along moderately well with the Brigade, still following orders where needed. While she has her problems with the gang, she still manages to tolerate her relationships with em fair enough.

Except Bash..... Bury argues with Bash like all the time them two like never get along, but it's mostly played up for laughs than anything really serious.

Though I'd imagine with time she grows a secret soft spot for them that she just doesn't wanna admit. It's probbaly why she still sticks around them. Not like she has anywhere else to go.

So the best way I can describe her is "space tsundere/troubled sister" hahaha

In terms of abilities though, Bury excels at both close quarters and long range combat, making her a threat on all covers.

Her laser scythe can be turned into a sniper rifle and vice versa with just a spin of the handle, so it's not like she's stick to one mode of combat at any time.

She REALLY doesn't like Kisyku, and is the only member of the Brigade who seems to ACTUALLY give him a a run for his money (see this saying is ironic because Kisyku is constantly broke but it's not actually about money sorry idk why I'm rambling I thought I felt so cool saying it)

But yeah, them two seem to not get along very well.... It's especially awkward when the Brigade is forced to team up with Kisyku for episodic antics. Kisyku genuinely doesn't know what her deal is though.

She just seems to have a lot going on that she just doesn't wanna talk about. For her to be so locked up about her past leaves her shrouded in complete mystery to the rest of the cast. I hope that one day if I can truly get BKW out there, I'll get to uncover her secrets to you all.

And wow that's them!! Hopefully you learned a lot about these guys, it's my first time sharing info about them like this!! Now I can go and draw my silly doodles about them :P

[bluegekk0]

🏰

i mentioned before that i don't think the white palace from the game is an accurate portrayal of what the palace looked like before pk disappeared, and the same applies to the fpk au, which means no buzzsaws present (and a far less fragmented structure). so for that reason i won't get into this here

instead, i want to talk a bit about how fpk himself felt about it, and some other character related things, since that's something i'm far more comfortable talking about (it is the main focus of the au after all)

the white palace was bright and cold, full of vast open spaces that didn't look very welcoming. the presence of the vines and leaves that spread around the palace thanks to wl helped a bit, but for the most part it wasn't exactly the most friendly looking place. there was this cold, some could say clinical energy to it, which to the white lady was ideal as it matches her personality, but for fpk it only intensified his anxiety

wyrms were burrowing creatures, so his natural instinct was to seek dark, cozy spaces as that's what feels the most safe. this is the reason why he initially settled down so deep underground, basically as deep as he could get before reaching the abyss. but his wife's presence and all the energy and soul that were all around the palace gave it the blinding, almost nauseating bright light that it was known for. he didn't complain, though, he thought that with the new form he could get used to it, and he didn't want to go against his wife's wishes. and to an extent he did get accustomed to it - the light that would once temporarily blind him every time he left his workshop, now "only" gave him headaches

as for wl, i do imagine her role in the palace was far greater than one may expect. fpk got all the credit, he was the great king and so the blinding light was associated primarily with him, but in reality i think the white lady did a lot of the actual ruling. his word was still final, but it was clear that she had more knowledge when it came to ruling a kingdom, and she wasn't as emotionally driven which allowed her to make difficult choices far more easily. you could say she was ruling from behind the scenes, while he was the "face" of the royalty, so to speak. to fpk, this was a satisfying outcome, as ruling quickly overwhelmed him and he knew the kingdom needed a strong and decisive mind to prosper. that's not to say he didn't do anything - his contributions were crucial to the development of the kingdom, there was no other like him when it came to the architectural plans and inventions like the tramways. but when it came to the politics or even the entertainment of the court (such as royal events, which the white lady was very fond of), those areas were his wife's domain. though unfortunately, a dynamic like this carried some downsides when it came to their relationship. he already found her intimidating, his wish to meet her expectations and satisfy her made it hard for him to care about his own well-being, and with the power she held in the palace, that only added to the feeling of anxiety he felt around her. but i've already gone in-depth about how complicated and lowkey toxic their marriage was in the au before, so i won't ramble about it here

there were some places within the palace which he found a lot more relaxing. his workshop was one of them, naturally, but there were other spots he would escape to if he felt overwhelmed. the balconies around the palace were such places - the breeze of fresh air helped to clear his mind and gave him a moment to take a deep breath. this is where he would escape if the royal events got overwhelming, and it's where he first met grimm. the gardens within the palace were another safe space for him. he enjoyed resting on a bench among the plant life, gently touching the leaves as he walked by and smelling the flowers. after meeting grimm, they would often hang out there and talk, so he has a lot fond memories of the gardens. after the white lady left the palace following their divorce, he would try to take care of the palace gardens, but without wl's influence the plants lost much of their beauty

the vision of the palace that we see in the game remains similar within the au. the thorns and sawblades are there, but only as a result of the palace being transported to a dream realm like plane (not a true dream realm, which is why it was so well hidden and hard to reach). like i mentioned before, they represented fpk's anxiety and guilt, and since he was in a hibernation state, they were manifested subconsciously

i've already rambled for a bit so to avoid repeating myself (or making things too convoluted), i think i'll stop here. i'll admit it's a bit hard for me to imagine what the palace might have looked like, the white palace in the game is very, well, game-ified when it comes to its structure, so i find it challenging to imagine it in a more "practical" state. it's why i always enjoy detailed illustrations people make of it, cause it makes it just a little bit easier for me

though i suppose it being difficult to interpret adds to its sense of mystery, and that cold and distant aura i mentioned haha

[kamyru]

"You're beautiful" (Nameless Manager x MC) (Shorts)

Word counting: 798

"I wish I could make you smile oftener, so I admire this aesthetic artwork your face is."

"How does it feel to wake up every day, go to the bathroom, and see that you have a face like yours? I hope you know you are more than beautiful, cute, astonishing, or alluring. People haven't yet invented words powerful enough to describe you."

"Every time I talk to you, I wish to stop the time so I can admire the grace with which you use your words and how they blend in sentences. You can insult me, and I'm going to be in awe at how pleasant your voice is, and how smart your words are."

The manager had no idea what he had done for MC to talk to him like this. At first, he thought that she did it to manipulate him later. But she had never asked for anything. Later, she heard her complimenting his proteges, too. Anyone else could have felt jealous, but not him. It was a pleasure to hear someone waste their words on him, especially because all the compliments were personalized. MC took her time to understand every one of them. Besides complimenting their appearance, she never forgot to admire their actions and thank them every time they did a good job. Not a person could breathe near her, and don't hear anything good.

Except for one person.

"If heaven exists, it probably tastes like this," Claude said while munching on MC's pancakes.

"I hope not because it wouldn't be good enough."

"Can't believe that you are working for a fashion magazine and you haven't been invited to be a model yourself, considering how cute you are, especially when you are smiling," Wataru told MC after all the crew of his photoshoot left.

"They would get broke in less than an hour if I was their model."

"Sometimes I wish you had never disappeared on me in our childhood so I spent more time with you," Ryoga didn't have enough guts to say it to MC's face. Instead, he chose the cutest flower in his garden and left it in front of MC's room with a message attached.

"Don't waste your wishes and time thinking about me," MC whispered to herself after reading this.

"I am going to work hard so that I will be the most popular and in-demand actor the moment your essays are published and you are the most popular Japanese writer," Mikoto told MC after reading one of her works.

"You won't live long enough for me to get to that level."

"You are unique enough for me to write songs with you in mind and put as much warmth as I am capable of," Kotoha whispered once, hoping that MC didn't hear him.

"I am sorry to disturb you from your process of creating real masterpieces," MC whispered back.

The manager didn't hear every interaction of this type, yet he heard enough to understand what was happening. He didn't plan on fighting for a nuisance's well-being. He wanted to get rid of MC the moment she entered the residence. So, he couldn't explain to himself what was happening in front of him.

At five in the morning, the manager came to get the group to the filming of their new MV. After seeing them ready and more alluring than ever, he had to fight their fan service. A job he got pretty good at. 

What he didn't expect was to see a disheveled MC who probably didn't sleep all night, wearing the oldest pajamas a twenty-three-year-old woman can own while drinking some milk in the middle of a barely illuminated kitchen.

This creature looked at him as if she saw a monster. Suddenly, her cheeks colored pink, and the manager could swear he heard her curse quietly.

"I'm sorry that you have to begin your day with this sight, especially after admiring the beauty of gods five minutes beforehand," MC said.

Instead of answering, the manager's first reaction was to laugh. MC gulped and put away the glass of milk she had in her hands. She felt guilty for showing her face in front of someone in that state. Yet, after being awake all night, she needed something to ease her hunger. It was a bad idea. All she had to do now was to crawl to her room in shame. But before she could do it, a hand caught her wrist.

"You're beautiful, probably the only person who can rock this look."

And as if the words weren't enough, the man patted MC's head. He moved a few strands of hair from her forehead and admired her face for a few seconds.

Plust members had never seen their manager's cheeks as red as after he returned.