#pardon me while I sniffle now

[pettyprocrastination]

realizing now that the blog that gave me my first ever publication did a little blog post highlighting my story :')

[jeongintwenty3]

actions speak louder than words

pairing: lee know x gn!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: mention of tears

summary: he woke up to his one and only crying. knowing he isn’t good with words, he decided to let her know he’s there for her through his loving gestures.

author’s note: hello!! feeling a bit under the weather but it’s nothing new. i am a sucker for minho being all soft for his other half, in case you haven’t noticed. pardon for my poor grammar and mispellings if present, other than that, happy reading! <3

————————————————————————

waking up to the sounds of his beloved sniffling was far from ideal. it was 3.16 in the morning, he finally got some shut eye after a good two and a half hours of trying.

but God had other plans.

trying to identify where the sounds were coming from, minho patted the duvet beside him. you weren’t beside him. rubbing his eyes so he’d be able to wake up just a little bit more to find you, he identified your figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

you thought you aced your techniques of weeping silently, muffling the noises with the sleeves of your sweater or leaving the room to take a breather. but tonight, it didn’t work.

hearing the shuffles of your boyfriend, you immediately wiped whatever tears were left and tried to regulate your breathing.

minho sat beside you, opening his arms as a silent invitation to his comforting hugs. and so you did, sat upon his lap with both arms around his neck, the tears were threatening to fall again.

“you don’t need to pretend babe, it’s okay. it’s just me,” he said gently, not wanting to aggravate anything else.

with those words said, the dam broke. you were shaking, shedding tears in his hold and he didn’t seem to mind at all.

the man with one arm stroking your hair and the other patting your back gave you nothing less than tranquility.

noticing your tears aren’t stopping anytime soon, he whispered,

“let it all out, hmm? take your time,” the man said, fully awake by now. he wants nothing but for his one and only to feel better. yes, he doesn’t really like and sort of skinship, but for you? he’d do anything.

after a good twenty minutes of your breakdown, you managed to slip out, “’m sorry, i know you needed to rest,”

backing away from the one he loves most, he looked right into your eyes; you could swear, it’s the most tender look he’s ever given you.

“don’t be sorry. you need me more than i need sleep, you are my responsibility. it’s the way it’s supposed to be, darling. i’m more than content to be the only one able to comfort you right now,” he said, tightening his grip around you.

feeling your throat closing up, minho noticed the tears welling up once again. he resorted to place both of his hands on each side of your head, placing kisses on your forehead and closed eyelids; hoping, that he can distribute whatever strength and comfort he has to his beloved.

“breathe, baby. take it slow,” minho said, while helping you adjust your breathing that was ragged due to the constant flow of tears.

hearing you saying something along the lines of wanting to sleep or something like that, he took it as a sign to bring you into a more comfortable position.

letting go of the man that has comforted you for the last 30 minutes, he guided you so you can rest on the pillow he fluffed up just a while ago. adjusting the both of you so you can lie down properly, he continued srroking your hair, his grip on you never loosening. seeing you drift off to sleep due to the exhaustion, he smiled softly. pressing a kiss to your temple and whispering a quick i love you, he too, drifted of to dreamland.

maybe for now, your heart is on the verge of shattering; but one thing for sure, minho won’t let that happen. he isn’t good with words and it’s never a problem; his actions speaks volumes, and that is what matters the most.

[goodlucksnez]

So after listening to Zen's Wav, I had a idea to continue. So I gathered some friends and we continued the story with a little nod to @instarsandcrime as well!

So enjoy the continuation!

Al//astor: @onetrickponi

Lu//cifer: @zensations35

V//ox: @goodlucksnez

See below for script!

Alastor: Ah! The man of the hour! Just the person I was hoping to encounter…Now then. Time for a little r̴̈e̷͋g̵͛i̷͊c̷̉ǐ̵d̷̃ë̴́

Lucifer: Oh no…*sneeze* Not you again. What is it this time?

Alastor:  As it turns out, sire, not only do you bestow hellish grace upon your subjects, but pestilence as well! ’Allergies.’ Hah! I should have known. 

Lucifer: Well if someone hadn’t insisted I come on their show with only two days notice!

Alastor: Aha-hA!  If someone would answer their phone more than once a month, your nibs–

*Lucifer sneezes*

Alastor: Well. Glad to see your smoky sternutations aren’t exclusive to my studio, at least. Goodness, I do hope this wallpaper is flame-resistant.*ṣ̶͐n̸̺͐ḙ̸̽e̸̲͂z̸̩͋i̷̠͐n̴̨̊g̸̩̿* Pardon.

Lucifer: Hey! Don’t bust out my lights! I’m working on an important project!

Alastor: And now no one has to see it! Pity. :)

*Voxtech Show Theme Plays*

Vox: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most electrifying news show in the multiverse! I’m your host, Vox,  and I’m here to deliver the latest headlines with a dash of charisma, a sprinkle of wit, and a whole lot of tea *clinking cup* *cup falls* 

Vox: *ignoring fallen cup* Tonight on our program we will go over the most recent broadcast from the King of Hell and the less important interviewer *cackle*

Vox: Ahh how good it feels in my studio! I must say our brand is perfection, it just won't do for anything Less. Than. That. *snigger*  

Vox: Unlike a certain old tyrant my studio is made for the highest of royalty. So if any princes or kings want a real experience, come down to Vees tower and I would love to give you a personalized tour from the Man in Charge. 

Alastor: *sneezing* Pompous, vicious little prick…

Lucifer: Ugh.. *sniff* I hate that guy…”Man in Charge”? And they call me prideful??

Vox: I mean really you just walk in, and it’s chaos. Papers everywhere, coffee stains on the desk, *laugh* it isn't even in a proper studio but an old water tower! Talk about tacky. Unprofessional, if you ask me. But here? Every cable is tucked away, every surface polished--

[Vox continues his spiel while Alastor sneezes]

Alastor: *sneezing* 

Vox:-- to a mirror sheen. We believe in excellence, not just in our content but in our environment, that that is what VoxTex is here to provide you. So, when you tune in to our show, rest assured, you’re getting the crème de la crème. Quality, class, and cleanliness–

Alastor: That isn’t even properly alliterative…

Lucifer: Are you kidding me? His place is a walking fire hazard! Or, not walking. Standing? But I know fire hazards! Man, I wish I could just…*sneezes*

Alastor: HaHAh!…Well, then I’m sure you will appreciate this next bit, Sire.

Vox: *sniffling* *sneezing* I must apologize, my dear viewers *sneezing*  but it seems that even the most prepared among us can be caught off guard. It appears I’m having a bit of a g̶͎͑-̵̓ͅg̵̪̑-̷̖͠G̴̥͒L̶̟̈I̷͈͑T̵̀͜C̸̣͝H̸̖͒—nothing serious, but we believe in safety first here at Vox industries.

*Vox continues sneezing throughout his spiel*

Vox: We’re all about transparency and this is as real as it gets. Fucking bitch! I’m going to step off for a moment to take care of this, and in the meantime, we’ll be ending today’s broadcast a tad earlier than scheduled. FuckI’mgonnafuckingkillhim--Our team is top-notch, and they’ll ensure everything is handled with the utmost professionalism. Thank you for your understanding. We’ll be back on air tomorrow, bright and shiny as ever, ready to bring you the stellar content you love. 

Vox: Cut it! That fucking bitch, I know this is his doing I’m gonna kill him!!

Alastor: *sneezing* *laughing* 

Lucifer: Hoh yeah! Highfive!

Alastor: I beg your pardon?

Lucifer: You…you just take your hand and…uhh…*high five sound*

Alastor: Mmm I suppose. But don’t make a habit out of this, sire.

Lucifer: Eheh…okay…

[navstuffs]

saving your babygirl leon kennedy (gn!reader, mention of violence, injuries, whumpee!leon, cursing)

Leon Kennedy felt another punch across his face, his cheek burning. His captors have been trying to get information out of him for minutes, or it could have been hours. He doesn't know. Leon could feel the blood drip into the floor, his arms and legs tied around the chair.

"It is really a pity we have to hurt your pretty face, Mr. Kennedy," One of his captors says, with a fake sad tone.

"Well, I still got other charms like my insane sense of humor and a good smile."

His captors give humorless laughs, one of them approaching him with a knife. Even Leon had to admit that it was a hot and sharp bowie knife.

"Nice knife. Where did you get it?" 

"What if we start by ripping off your tongue?" The man with a knife threatens, dangling the blade in front of his face. "Or maybe one of your eyes?"

"I guess I could live without an eye, but the tongue not so much, since a man got eat—" THUD! Another punch, this time directed to Leon's stomach, completely taking all of the air from his lungs. 

"Shit..." Leon groans as he curls up in pain, his eyes wandering to the floor with drops of his blood. He wonders how long he could keep those two idiots entertained.

Until the others can escape.

Until you escape, his heart reminds him.

He feels his heart beating fast when one of the men lifts his head, pressing the blade against his cheek and grabbing his chin roughly.

"We decided your tongue. Also, pardon my friend, who doesn't have a medical degree. So hold still."

Shit, shit! If his legs were at least free, maybe he could bump his head against the guy with a knife. He can't even move properly, the ropes are tight, not letting him move. Leon tries to shake his head, but the other goon keeps his head still.

"Oh, please, not the tongue! He can do wonders with it!"

A new voice exclaims from the open door, and a wave of relief washes over Leon. It is you, your eyes glowing with anger in the darkness, a gun in your hands. The guy with a knife charges in your direction, and you waste no time shooting him in his left leg, causing him to drop screaming in pain. 

Next, you give a strong kick to the man holding Leon, enough to make him fall to his head on the floor, unconscious or dead. You don't seem to care. You sigh, giving a look of pure hatred and disgust toward both of them. For an instant, Leon thought you would kill him, and deep down, he wants you to do it.

The moment passes, and you dash toward Leon, kneeling before him. It breaks your heart to see Leon like this. You want to blame yourself for allowing Leon to serve as bait, for not getting to him sooner, while you cut the ropes off.

"Sorry, it took me so long. Bastards hid you down here. Are you okay?"

"I am...fine."

Leon feels your hands patting, searching for any sign of injury on the rest of his body. The ropes finally fall, though Leon doesn't get up from the chair. You groan when you realize they only focused on Leon's face.

"Are you sure you are okay, babygirl?"

You gently hold his face in your hands when he doesn't answer. You want Leon to understand he is safe now, his blue eyes looking everywhere except at you. You think you can see tears in his eyes as Leon looks down at your feet.

"Leon, are you okay?"

He sniffles, cleaning any tears that might attempt to fall. You help him stand, although Leon doesn't need to, your eyes focused on him, worried.

"I am alright."

"I can still kill them if you want me to."

"Let's just go. Your babygirl needs you."

"All that you need."

my leon's masterlist

[the-guilty-writer]

The Washington Tales

Request from anon: Could you perhaps write something about how the reader is Spencer’s kid and they don’t like how he always gets up and goes on cases and they’re stuck alone or with a babysitter so they try to make a point by running away and Spencer has to rush home?

Spencer Reid x teen!reader

Summary: Spencer's busy schedule leaves you feeling lonely. You run away, finding company in an old friend.

A/N: Alright if I'm gonna write Spencer I'm writing full on super-nerd-dad Spencer. We all know that this man is a total dork and i'm running with it. Only real ones will understand the title reference.

CW: reader feeling lonely, running away, nerd level is through the roof.

---

Spencer heard his phone ringing insistently behind him. He had already let it go to voicemail twice and the sound of the plastic against the table was beginning to interrupt his concentration. He turned away from the evidence board and moved towards the table to see who needed him so desperately while he was working.

“You better have not given my number out again, Morgan,” Reid said, recalling their past prank war.

“I never use the same prank twice, pretty boy,” Morgan said, not looking up from his files.

When Spencer saw that the number was your school he automatically became concerned. Your teachers were worried that you were beginning to fall behind on your assignments. They wanted to set up a parent conference with him, but the team had been so loaded with cases he simply didn’t have the time. He didn’t even have time for this phone call if he was being honest, but he picked it up anyway.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Spencer Reid from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he said, still in professional mode instead of dad mode from working on the case for so long.

“Dr. Reid,” the lady on the phone started. “We’re calling because your child, (Y/N) Reid, never showed up for school this morning.”

“Pardon?” Spencer said.

“They’re absent from school today,” the lady told him.

“Okay, thank you.” He hung up the phone and went to dial Garcia.

“What is it?” Morgan asked. 

“(Y/N) didn’t go to school this morning,” Spencer told him. Morgan gave him a sympathetic look.

“You’ve reached the FBI’s office of supreme genius, how may I serve you today?” Garcia answered.

“Garcia, can you track (Y/N)’s phone. They didn’t show up to school today,” he said.

“Sure thing… annnddddd they’re at your apartment.”

Spencer sighed. “Thanks, Garcia.” As soon as he hung up he called you, but you didn’t answer. He tried again, just for good measure, but he didn’t bother leaving a voicemail. There was a real possibility that you hadn't charged your phone- another bad habit you had fallen into recently. Instead, he texted the babysitter- you were old enough that you didn’t need one, but he hired a nice lady to check on you in the evenings just to make sure you were okay. He let her know the situation and to tell you to call him when she saw you that night.

---

When Spencer’s phone rang again he was still looking at the evidence board, trying to piece together the case. He averted his view from the crime scene photos to answer the call.

“Dr. Reid,” the babysitter sounded panicked and upset. “Dr. Reid, they’re gone.”

“Wait, slow down,” Spencer said as calmly as possible. “What happened?”

Now it sounded like the babysitter was close to tears. “I came into the apartment to check on (Y/N) and they aren’t here! They just left a note that says “Farewell, I am gone.” signed with their initials. Dr. Reid, I’m so sorry.”

Spencer felt a strange feeling bubble in his gut- a note could mean a million things. “It’s not your fault,” he told the babysitter. “But I need you to send me a picture of the note, okay? As clear as you can possibly get it.”

“Oh-okay.” She sniffled and Spencer heard rustling on the other end of the line before receiving the picture.

“Thank you,” he told her. “Don’t worry about it. Go home and get some rest.” He hung up before she could reply. 

He didn’t want to tell the babysitter that a note usually meant one of two things- either you’d been kidnapped and coerced into writing something to make it seem as if you had run away, or you had actually run away. And it didn’t take an expert in handwriting analysis to see that the note you had left was freely written.

“Damn it.” He wanted to say some other words as well, but Hotch had just walked into the room.

“What is it, Reid?” he asked.

“(Y/N) ran away.” Spencer looked desperately between his phone and the evidence board. Now, instead of his brain being too preoccupied with work all he could feel was worry. Anything could have happened to you and you had obviously been gone since this morning, but there was a chance that you had fled after the babysitter left you alone the previous night. You could have been anywhere.

“Go home,” Hotch told him. He tossed him the keys to one of the SUVs. “It’s about a seven hour drive back to Virginia. Get Garcia to help you.”

Reid thanked his boss and got into the car. He had never been one to speed, much less speed and talk on the phone at the same time, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Garcia looked through everything- people you could have called, public transportation you might have taken, even going as far as to hack into the security cameras at your favorite bookstore- but the only trace you had left was that you had pulled some money from an ATM.

Spencer drove straight to the apartment and looked around for any clues you may have left about where you were going, but there was nothing except the note. You hadn’t packed a bag and the amount of money you had wasn’t enough to sustain you for very long. You couldn’t have gone far. It wasn’t like his mom could take care of you and surely if you had showed up at one of your friend’s houses their parents would have called him. His brain was working at a million miles an hour, trying to think of where you could have possibly gone.

“Reid,” Garcia said, sympathetically, “I know I’m not a parent and I’m not a profiler, but have you ever stopped to think about why (Y/N) ran away?”

“I-” He paused, thinking about your behavior in the past few months. It wasn’t just the trouble at school- it was also not wanting to watch TV with him when he was home or even making dinner for yourself and not waiting until he got home to eat together. The team had been so busy that he had pulled away… and you had pulled away from him too. “I’ll call you back, Garcia.”

Spencer ran out of the apartment and back down to the car. He knew where you had gone. It was where he would have gone too.

---

You weren’t sure if there was a place you loved more than the Library of Congress. The building itself was glorious; looking as though someone had carved it all out of one massive slab of stone. The columns stretched tall and strong, supporting arches painted like tiles. Grand floors were patterned with shapes that fit together like a mosaic.

But it was the soul of the building that you really loved- being surrounded by hundreds of thousands of books that each had something to teach or a story to tell. You remembered coming there with your dad when you were younger and him telling you that as long as you had a good book in your hand you would never be alone. So of course when you felt most alone you went somewhere full of things that couldn’t possibly make you feel lonely- but the your heart still felt as empty as the apartment. At the moment, your only friend was fiction. 

“Oh, (Y/N) dear, we’re closed!” One of the librarians rushed up to you. She had known you since Spencer began taking you there as a baby. She had watched your taste in literature change from picture books all the way to helping you find a copy of a research paper you had wanted to write about for school.

You looked down a bit sadly. “I know visiting hours are up, but can I stay just a bit longer? My dad is away on a case again and I could use some company.”

The librarian smiled at you, the lines in her face far more prominent than they had been when you were little. “Of course. As long as you put your favorite friend away when you’re done.” She winked at you behind wire framed glasses and walked in the opposite direction.

The library was large enough to get lost in, but you knew where you were going like the back of your hand- It was the same book that you pulled out every time your dad was away. Not wanting to go all the way to the reading room, you sat down on the floor before carefully flipping through the book’s pages and beginning to read through something you so badly wished was being read to you instead.

---

Footsteps echoed through the library, coming slowly up behind you. You expected it to be a security guard, telling you that it was time for the library to rest for the night, so you nearly jumped out of your skin when the echoing stopped and you heard your dad’s voice.

“Love will not be constrain'd by mastery. When mast'ry comes, the god of love anon/Beateth his wings, and, farewell, he is gone. Love is a thing as any spirit free.”

You turned to look at your dad. He was still wearing his work attire, his hair a tangled mess of brown curls, but even in the dim light of the library you could see the small smile on his face. 

You scowled. “Though there was nowhere one so busy as he/ He was less busy than he seemed to be,” you retored and went back to your reading.

You heard Spencer sigh before walking up and taking a seat beside you. “I’m not busy now.”

“It’s a bit late for that, dad.” You didn’t take your eyes off the pages, but you were no longer reading the words, tears building up in your eyes.

Spencer gently pulled the book from your hands and closed it. “You know,” he started. “When you were little, Garcia bought you a box set of Dr. Seuss books. I thought you would be so excited to see all the fun pictures and colors, but every time you were given a choice, you always asked me to read you this.” He held up the book- The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer. "Please tell me what's going on," he said quietly.

You turned away, not wanting your dad to see that you were crying. “I miss you, dad. You’re never around anymore and I get really lonely without you.”

“(Y/N),” he cooed, “why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged a little helplessly. “You catch criminals and save people. I can’t just ask you to stay home because I’m sad you’re gone.” It came out a bit sarcastic, but the tears were still real.

Spencer took a handkerchief from his pocket and softly dried your eyes before offering the book back to you. “Page 549, paragraph 2, last sentence.”

You carefully took the book from his hands and turned to the page, tracing your finger down to the location he had told you. As you read the line in your head, your dad said it outloud:

“Amour vincit omnia: Love conquers all.”

[kywaslost]

Loneliness - Ciel Phantomhive

A/N: This is 100% self indulgent, so feel free to skip.

Synopsis: Ciel spends some quality time with you after you confess that you had been feeling lonely lately.

Prompt/s Used: It’s fine, I’m used to it / I’m sorry, I'm not trying to be distant.

You couldn’t hear much of anything, and at this point you could hardly see anything either. You had been curled up, laying on the couch under a blanket for the past five hours. After an hour, you began crying. Sebastian found you not much later, standing at the foot of the couch as he looked over you.

“Lady Y/N, are you alright?” he asked quietly. He could see tears slowly make their way over the bridge of your nose and down your cheek. 

“Mhm,” you hummed softly. You made no movement to sit up or even look at the butler, and he was beginning to worry.

“Pardon me, my lady, but you seem upset,” Sebastian continued. “Is there anything I can do?”

You only shook your head. “Leave me be, please.”

Bowing, Sebastian placed a hand over his heart. “Yes, of course.” Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.

As soon as he left, you cried even harder, burying your face into your blanket to muffle your cries. For the next four hours, you laid there and stared at the room around you as you cried.

That’s why you couldn’t see or hear anything. The sound of Ciel’s servants had long dissipated, leaving you in a silence so loud it was ringing in your ears. You had been spaced out for so long everything was just a blur around you. You couldn’t even hear Sebastian anymore. The demon butler only bothered you one other time, to tell you that dinner had been prepared, but you only muttered that you weren’t hungry.

You cried so long that your head tormented you, a throbbing pain settling in behind your eyes. You were now reduced to sniffles and the occasional silent tear. You hadn’t moved, still curled up on one of the couches in the library. You only moved enough to adjust your blanket.

You were so in your head that you failed to hear the knock at the library’s door, nor the sound of it opening.

“Y/N? Are you in here?” Ciel’s voice slowly pulled you from your thoughts as he stepped into the room. “Sebastian said that you had been in here for a while. He suggested that I come check on you.” You made no effort to sit up, staying still as you listened to his footsteps wonder around the room. “There you are, darling.” You knew Ciel was in front of you. Your vision was fuzzy, partially due to tears but also because you had been in a daze for so long, but you could see the blurred colors of his outfit, his hand on his cane as we stared down at you. 

Ciel looked down to you in worry. Sebastian had come to him, even after he ordered the butler to leave him be, to tell him about your current state. How you hadn’t moved in hours, and that you didn’t eat dinner. You had been crying for a while, long enough to make Sebastian worry and finally alert the Earl. And CIel was grateful he did once he took in your appearance. Your eyes were red and puffy, and your nose was tinted a soft pink. You looked like you hadn’t moved in ages, and like you were battling something Ciel couldn’t see. Your eyes were glossed over with tears, as well as a look that the boy couldn’t quite place. You were looking at him, but he knew you couldn’t see him. You wouldn’t even talk to him.

“May I sit beside you?” He asked softly, uncharacteristically of the Earl. You finally showed him a sign that you could hear him as you nodded slightly. Ciel smiled sadly as he sat by your head. The boy wasn’t one for physical touch, but he knew that you were and that you found it comforting, so he gently placed your head in his lap, slowly combing a hand through your hair. 

Ciel’s movements caused a new wave of tears to escape from your eyes as you pulled the blanket up to cover your face again, sobs muffled by the fabric. The boy’s brows furrowed in worry, but he let you cry until you were reduced back to sniffles and droopy eyes.

“What’s wrong, love?” His voice is low and soothing, Ciel’s hand still brushing through your hair and occasionally massaging your scalp. “Why have you been crying?”

You sniffled, then adjusted the way you were laying to get more comfortable. Your eyes avoided Ciel’s as you whispered, “I don’t feel well.”

The Earl’s hand immediately moved to your forehead, then to your cheek. “You do feel a tad warm, but my guess is that it is due to your tears.”

You shook your head, causing Ciel to move his hand and he took the opportunity to move the hair from your face and behind your ear. “Not like that, Ciel.”

“Oh.” Ciel frowned. “Mentally, then, I presume?” When you nodded, he sighed. “I’m sorry, dear. Why didn’t you come find me?”

You cleared your dry throat before muttering, “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

Ciel straightened his posture in surprise, lifting his hand from your head in the process. “Why on earth would I not want you to find me when you’re like this?!”

For the first time that night, you turned your head just enough to glance into Ciel’s one good eye. “You’ve been distant lately. You almost never leave your study, and rarely come down for meals anymore. So I thought you didn’t want me around as much.”

It felt like Ciel’s heart shattered to pieces at your words. How could he do this to you and not notice? “I’m sorry, I'm not trying to be distant,” he replied, returning his hand to your head once again.

Your voice was soft as you said, “It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

Ciel pulled you gently to lay on your back, eyes now fully meeting his gaze. “I never meant to make you feel this way. I should have noticed, especially with all that you’ve been through.”

You lifted your hands from under your blanket, reaching for Ciel. He helped you sit up, then fully pulled you into his lap as he held you close to his chest. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Earl Grey with a hint of ink. His scent calms you down as you relax further into Ciel’s arms. “I’ve been feeling so alone. I spend most of my days wandering around the manor by myself. The servants are always so busy, and Sebastian is always doing chores or paperwork. You stay in your study, so I’m always alone. I guess it just got to me.”

Ciel rested his cheek on the top of your head. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t say anything else, instead just holding you tight and enjoying this moment with you. 

Eventually you pulled away from the boy, droopy eyes looking over him. “I’m sorry, I’m ruining your outfit, and I’m sure you have work to finish.” As you tried to move off of Ciel’s lap, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled your back to his chest.

“Don’t worry about my outfit, and I was just going to bed. My work can wait.” You almost didn’t feel Ciel’s lips press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Besides, I want to be with you right now.”

You smile for the first time that night, crawling back into Ciel as he picks up your forgotten blanket, draping it over the both of you. You rest your head against his shoulder, letting your eyes drooped closed. You fell asleep with a smile on your face, and Ciel did as well, leading Sebastian to smirk at the sight of the two of you when he came to retrieve the both of you for bed.

With the two of you on either hip, Sebastian carried you back to the Earl’s room, where you’d sleep peacefully in the arms of your fiance. 

[gumballavocadoharry]

Heckled:

There he was, Harry, your boyfriend on stage in a purple sequin outfit bouncing up and down like a jumping bean around on stage, while you stood in the back by the auditorium exit. The smile never left your face as Harry sung his lungs out to Grapejuice.

The song finished and of course Harry did a little silly chatting with the audience before regrouping to his next song. "This one is my wonderful Yn's favorite-"

"She's a slut!" You couldn't ignore the mouth agape look Harry had on his face. "I beg your pardon?!" He said, still with a joking exploit. But you couldn't shake how hurt Harry was in the eyes. "Yn spreads her legs for other men!" Another shouted. Harry's eyes now turned into boiling green orbs, ready to pounce the next person in the crowd who dared to speak badly about you.

"Stupid whore! Put a ring on that!" The tears trickled down your cheeks like blood on a gash. You excused yourself into the dressing room; grabbing the walls because you're pretty much blind when mascara is bubbling your vision.

"First off," Harry said, sitting down on his little stool, "My girlfriend, is not a slut, a whore, neither does she sleep or 'spread her legs' for other men. And to the people in the audience who said that: You all should be ashamed. I would never say those things about anyone, nor do I want them spoken about the people I love."

You smiled a little at the sweet way Harry stuck up for you. He finished his song before taking a break and following you backstage. It was almost like he sensed you were there crying. His soft knock and the gentle way he asked for you said it all. "Baby?"

You sniffled up tears and tried to make your voice sound as natural as possible. "Harry?" He came in with some hot tea and a flower from his set before taking a seat next you. Harry's puppy dog eyes spoke loudly and charmingly against your anguished ones. "How could they say that?" Your tears started flowing again, "I thought they warmed up to me?"

Harry shrugged. "Bitter I guess," You hung your head, "I just wish they stopped." Harry lifted your chin with his finger. "They will!" He kissed your cheek. "In the meantime, how about we wipe those gooey eyes?" He giggled a little from feeling the black mascara file against his fingers.

"Come on, we'll show em." And with that, Harry took your hand and led back out to his show.

[winterwriterstudios]

The Prince And The Frog (Malyuu ver.)

Pairing: Malleus x Yuu (From Twisted Wonderland)

Inspo: https://www.tumblr.com/bi-panicatthedisco‘s comment under https://www.tumblr.com/skyerooodraws/749572968954413056, Tiana’s frog form

Notes: Not a great writer. Not truly accurate to the game nor the manga nor the book. Yuu uses they/them pronouns. Also, Yuu takes inspiration from Tiana (I just imagine them with the accent). Plus, I did not proof read, so please pardon errors

Prompt: Malleus never was alone in the garden.

———————————-

Malleus absolutely hated when Lilia had to go on trips. It meant he would be all alone in the castle garden, playing with no one.

Today was no different. It was just him and his newly bought golden ball, gifted by Lilia before he left. No one, not even the gardeners were in the garden. Just him, alone.

He looked around for maybe any animal that would catch his interest, long enough to distract him, but alas, even the animals seemed to fear him as much as the fae.

No annoying chirping of the birds or the prominent wildlife that were allowed to stay in the gardens. Not even a grasshopper or ant was nearby.

Feeling utterly defeated, Malleus threw the ball as far as he could, not caring where it landed. He then fell to the ground, his eyes welled up with tears. He didn’t care enough to wipe them away, after all, no one was around to notice.

The weather seemed to act according to the poor prince’s emotions. The clouds got darker and suddenly started to merge with one another, chasing the sun away and casting a shadow on the whole castle.

The garden seemed darker, more hostile than it did before to the fae prince. The trees seem to bear wicked grins and the wind sounded like whispers, the same whispers that plagued the castle every day.

“Why won’t anyone play with me? I-I have done nothing wrong! I have been a good prince like-like in all the stories! All I want is a single friend! Please!”

His desperate cries remained unanswered, though. The wind only lived up its speed and droplets of water fell from the sky, matching the tears that spilled from his eyes.

It all seemed to come to a halt when the golden ball, now muddy, rolled to his knees and a small, caring voice said, “Well, if it’s a friend you want, then it’s a friend you’ll have!”

Malleus’ head immediately snapped up, in search of this voice.

“Down here!”

Lo and behold, the voice belonged to no other than a frog.

Malleus wiped his tears away, sniffling a bit. “R-Really? You will be my friend?” His voice was soft, not wanting to scare the friendly frog away.

“’Course I will! My mama always said that I should be making more friends, anyway! I’m Yuu! And you are?” The frog comically held out its hand, still beaming at the young fae.

As the clouds faded away, Malleus smiled, giving the frog a gentle handshake. “I am Malleus. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yuu!”

———————————-

From that day on, Malleus and his frog friend were inseparable. They’d play together, take long walks around the castle together and sometimes Yuu would dine with Malleus when no one else was around.

Even when Malleus was older, he never forgot Yuu. In fact, he just grew more attached to the frog.

“Yuu! Yuu! I brought you grapes! The red, seedless ones! And I brought a lot of berries, too!”

It was a very queer sight to see the noble prince of Briar Valley carrying a basket while yelling out to the garden.

It was an even funnier sight to see a frog suddenly jump on him and land on his hair, right in between his horns.

“Good afternoon, dear! Are you doing as great as you are looking?”

The melodic laughter of Malleus made Yuu smile even more. Jumping off his hair and back into the grass, they laughed along with him.

“I am doing wonderfully, now that you are here, Yuu. You know I always love the time we spend together,” he replied, sitting on the grass, in front of the frog.

Yuu croaked, before their tongue extended, landing on a grape in the basket and bringing it back into their mouth. They hummed, satisfied as they moved closer to the basket.

“Me too! It’s kinda lonely when you’re not around! I mean, the other frogs are great, and the tadpoles are just adorable, but nothing beats hanging out with you!” Their smile was unwavering as they helped themselves to more grapes in the basket.

Those words warmed Malleus’ heart more than it should. It was always nice knowing that his best friend loved him as much as he loved them.

The conversation continued, thought it was mostly just Malleus ranting about his day while Yuu listened and gave him helpful tips and advice. Both enjoyed hearing the other’s voice and just being in the other’s presence.

Soon, the basket was empty and the afternoon came to an end as the sun started to set.

“Well, that’s sad! The sun’s coming down!” Yuu pointed own, a frown on their face.

Malleus nodded, disheartened. He didn’t know why days with Yuu always seemed too short to be actual days. If only Yuu could spend the nights with him, as well.

Wait.

“Yuu? Would you like to stay the night in the castle?”

“Ooh! Like a sleepover?”

“A what?”

———————————-

“And that’s why I NEVER eat flies!”

Malleus wiped away the tears at the corner of his eyes, his large grin basically lightning up the dimly lighted room. Yuu was sitting in front of him, on a pinecone on top of his king-sized bed.

Pinecones were tangled up in Malleus’s lovely dark hair, acting as makeshift curls, due to Yuu’s insistence (though, they did not need to beg much, as Malleus was willing to do anything to make their first ‘sleepover’ memorable) and his smile took up half of his face as he intently stared at his best friend.

“You do have a lot of interesting stories, Yuu,” he spoke, “I assume you have adventures everyday in the garden, when I’m not around.” Malleus brushed off his comment as a joke, even though he was a bit saddened by this realization.

Sometimes, he’d debate permanently turning himself into a frog so that he could have more adventures with Yuu and their friends, but then he’d remember his family and Lilia and would decide against it. But that did not stop him from daydreaming.

“Aww! Don’t feel left out, Mal’! I tell the boys back at the pond about ALL the things we do, and they are always super jealous!” Yuu tried to cheer him up, instantly catching on to his change in demeanor.

Malleus perked up at that, seeming pleased, until he remembered something, “I hope your stories aren’t the more embarrassing ones that you so fondly remember, though.”

Yuu, feeling nervous, suddenly croaked. “Uh…would ya look at the tone! You,” they pointed at Malleus with an innocent smile, “should be heading to bed to rest that pretty little head of yours!”

Understanding that his reputation to the garden creatures is probably already ruined beyond repair, Malleus simply nodded. “Where will you sleep?” He asked, curiously. Malleus didn’t exactly have a bed fit for a frog in his room, nor did he know how Yuu liked sleeping.

“Oh, I could sleep on a drawer! Wouldn’t want you to deal with a frog on your bed!” Yuu said, hopping towards the drawer that was next to Malleus’ bed.

Malleus was able to catch them, before they landed on the drawer, though. “I wouldn’t be dealing with any frog on my bed. It would be you, my beastie.”

The sincerity of his words made Yuu’s heart warm, and they wished they were finally a fae, once more, so they could give Malleus a big hug, but all they could was laugh. The curse was still as strong as ever, and they couldn’t even dream of breaking it. Or burdening Malleus with that knowledge.

“Whatever you say, Mal-Mal,” Yuu smiled, sadly at him, taking in Malleus in all his pinecone haired glory, “Whatever you say…”

———————————-

Yuu yawned, opening their eyes to meet Malleus’ still sleeping ones. They got off the bed and groggily made their way to the window to open it, since they felt that the place was a bit stuffy.

Then, they tripped over their own two feet. They hissed in pain, cursing as they struggled to help themselves up. “Since when was I this heavy?” They muttered, holding on to the edge of the bed as they stood tall.

Their curses soon turned q into silence as they noticed how ethereal Malleus looked while he slept, even with those ridiculous pine ones in his hair. Yuu chuckled, before wobbly making their way to the window, grabbing onto any piece of sturdy furniture they could.

Surprisingly, Malleus failed to wake up from the noise they were making, and continued to slumber away. Yuu was thankful for this, as they reached the window. They did not want to interrupt the prince’s sleep schedule after all.

“Huh?”

Everything seemed to slow down as they came face to face with their reflection on the window.

They brought a hand to their face, before immediately retracting it back after noticing that it was no longer green. The shock of the sudden shift in appearance made Yuu fall down, breathing heavily.

Yuu always imagined this moment, thinking about how they’d react. And in every possible scenario they made up in their head, they would laugh or cry with joy, thanking the great seven for everything.

But, no.

They don’t know why, but they screamed.

Incorrect Quotes

Lilia: I can’t wait to see your best friend, Malleus!

Yuu: Why, hello, handsome!

Lilia, highly amused: Is that a talking frog?

Silver: How did you and the young master meet?

Yuu: Oh, well, when we were younger, he threw a golden ball at me.

Sebek, telling Ace off: HOW DARE YOU RUIN THE NAME OF THE G—

Yuu, enters: Heya, Croco!

Sebek, hugging Ace: And that is why I cherish you, as a friend!

Leona, insultingly: You smell like a lake.

Yuu: Actually, it’s a pond!

Floyd: I’m going to call you, Frog-chan!

Yuu: Uncreative! Next!

Yuu, with Riddle: If being a teenage mom is a crime, then I’m innocent, this is my short friend.

Rook: I know what you are, Mademoiselle du lac.

Yuu: He’s going to say frog…

Rook: They’re definitely married to Roi des dragons.

Jamil: I swear to the great seven, that I’ll kill that octopus!!

Yuu: That’s not very bonvita of ya, Jam-Jam!

Idia: Alright, it’s been 6 months. Let’s see your progress.

Yuu, in front of a lot of laptops: I have made an entire mobile game which is so addictive that people CANNOT stop playing, it has risen to the top of the charts and become the most popular game on the internet. Next, I’m planning on invading Mars.

Idia: Good, good. Malleus?

Malleus, in front of an old computer, holding a rat: I finally located the mouse.

Idia: *unholy screaming

Rollo, exists:

Yuu, rofl: LOOK AT THE TOP OF HIS HEAD!!!!

[redskull199987]

Imagine this Y/n is Jack’s granddaughter who got kidnapped when she was 15 years old. They never found her so Jack thought that she is you know 💀. Buuuut one day girl about Fred’s age came to Moriarty’s mansion and William was like How can we help you and she was like im here ti see my grandpa. So after Jack explained everything Willism was like yeah she can stay (so he can f her the same night) BC THEY WERE PLAYING SIMON SAYS BUT SPICY ONE(they have known each other bc Moriarty lived at her place after the incident of there Mansion).

Do tou think you can write rhis?

I am so sorry that it took me that long to write this. I did enjoy it very much In the end. I changed it a little bit tho, but not much. The only difference is that they're playing chess, instead of Simon Says, I hope that's fine^^

A Bet

William James Moriarty x female!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, apart from that it's basically just making out, lil bit of fluff

Summary: After years of being away you, the granddaughter of Jack Renfield, finally return to him. How convenient that he lives with the Moriarty family now...

Masterlist

I stumbled through the empty streets of London. It was already late at night, so you could barely spot any people outside. Only here and there, a lonely soul was making their way home.

I was one of them. One of the many lonely souls, who who had to eke out their existence in this city. But today, I was hoping to finally find my home again, my family. Or, what was left of it.

I had almost reached the Moriarty residence. I knew, that I was making a bet here. There wasn't a hundred percent chance of finding my Grandfather Jack Renfield here. He was the only family that I had left. And after finally escaping the family, I was sold to after I was kidnapped when I was 15, my sole goal was to find my grandfather.

And the Moriarty's were the only clue, that I had. I knew that he used to work for them. I had seen them a few times, back then. Back then when everything was still at peace. When London wasn't burning itself up, with half of its residents supporting a murderous genius and the other half trying to bring him down.

My mind kept racing, as I finally reached the door's of the Moriarty residence. It was huge, but that was expected. After all, they were lords.

With shaky hands, I opened the metal gate and made my way to the main entrance.

I could see light inside, which meant that they were still awake, or at least someone was still awake.

I breathed in heavyly, before I climbed the stairs to the door. I looked at it for a few seconds, before raising my hand and knocking loudly three times.

I hadn't realized that I had held my breath in, until the door in front of me opened.

A tall young man with blond hair and mesmerizing red eyes was looking at me.

I had recognized his eyes. It could only be him. The genius.

"William?", I asked, my voice weak.

"Pardon me, young Lady, but do I know you?", He asked politely.

"I am looking for my Grandfather, Jack Renfield.",I explained.

I watched as his eyes widened, when he realized who was standing here in front of him.

"Y/N...is that really you?", he mumbled, a hand raised to rest it on my shoulder.

"Yes.", I stated, "It is really me."

William softly ushered me inside, while taking off my soaked coat. I waited for him to put it down to dry.

He then showed me the way to the living room area.

I noticed several people sitting there. I counted six in total, seven together with William.

They eyed me suspiciously, after noticing us.

"This might be a shock for the most of us, but...", William started, his hand still on my shoulder.

But before he could finish, the man who I had undoubtedly identified as my Grandfather jumped up and walked over to us. He stopped right in front of me, his eyes wide and his hands trembling.

" Y/N", he said quietly, "Is it really you?"

I felt how my eyes started to water:"It's me, Grandpa"

He sniffled before pulling me into his embrace. I held onto him tight. I finally had him back. I had my family back.

A few weeks had passed, since my return. William and his brothers had generously allowed me to stay at their residence.

I had also been let in on their plan to change the nation. And to be honest, to realize that William was the Criminal Mastermind was not hard.

I had also been introduced to Colonel Moran, Fred, Von Herder and Bond.

They were all very different but they worked together perfectly.

And while Fred was very reserved and quiet, Moran and Von Herder were Chaos. Even though, they were a different kind of chaos. While Moran basically started flirting from the first second he saw me (much to the dismay of my grandfather), Von Herder was only passionately ranting about his guns. And as much as I liked listening to his talks, it was a lot more pleasant to talk with Bond and share a nice cup of tea with him. He had also let me in on his story, while I told him mine. I felt like he was one of the few who understood what I had been trough.

Well, apart from William. He was able to read me like an open book. Since I arrived we only had a handfull of interactions. After all he was a busy man, a math professor and criminal Mastermind at the same time.

Nevertheless, it always felt like he knew something that I didn't, when we talked.

He had asked me to join his group on the third or fourth evening already. He explained that he understood if I didn't want to join his cause, it was dangerous after all and with my past. He told me that he couldn't promise to keep me save and out of his business. It would be hard, since everyone who lived here, openly talked about the plans they had.

So, I agreed and William had slowly filled me in over the next few days. Until I knew his plan and everything that they had achieved so far. It was truly exhilarating, but also intimating to see what one group of people could achieve, if they only worked hard enough.

"What are you thinking about?"

I was ripped out of my thoughts, when I heard William's voice behind me. I turned around an granted the young man a smile. My mind started to wander at that thought again. He must've been 23 or 24 by now. Not much older than me.

"I was about to make a tea.", I finally answered his question, as William was still staring at me expecting an answer, "Would you like some as well?"

He smiled politely:"That would be nice. It's strange not to have Louis around."

I nodded at his words. I remembered that William had sent his brother off to a mission a few days ago. He was accompanied by Fred, Moran and Bond. And with Von Herder always hanging out in the basement and Albert being away most of the day, busy with his work as a Lord, William, my Grandfather and me were the only one's left in the residence.

After a few minutes the tea was finished and I reached for two cups, but I couldn't reach them. Louis usually made tea in this house and he was taller than me, so naturally the cups rested higher in the cupboard.

"Mind if I help?", I heard William smile next to me. He gently pushed me aside and grabbed two cups, before handing them to me.

"T-Thank you.",I mumbled. Why was I stuttering?

"No problem", he grinned. I handed him his cup and he made his way over to the sofa.

I watched him for a few seconds, before deciding to go back to my room. I was about to leave, as I heard William call my name.

"Y/N?", he asked.

I turned back around, tea still in my hands:"Yes, William?"

"Would you join me for a party of chess?", he smiled.

I didn't know what to say for a few seconds. Surely, I couldn't win against him, could I? After all, he was a genius.

"Sure.", I smiled and made my way over to him. Why did I say yes?

"What do I get, when I win?", I joked, as I sat down in front of him. William smirked at me, as he started to prepare the game.

"Whatever you want.",he smiled.

I felt how my cheeks reddened at his words. Why was he making me nervous all of a sudden?

"Does the same count for me?", he asked.

"What do you mean?", I said as I made my first move.

"When I win", he explained while moving his first figure,"Do I get a wish?"

I only nodded at his request, too bashfull to open my mouth again. I had to win this, or it would be the end of me. But the smile on William's face made me nervous. Would I be able to win this?

I lost. Hard. He defeated me in minutes. I barely had time to finish my tea. I didn't even realize how he did it this fast, but he did it and now he had a free wish.

"I guess, I shouldn't have betted on this.", I mumbled.

"Probably not.",William chuckled.

I watched as he slowly stood up. He was standing directly in front of me now.

"What is your wish?", I gulped.

William only smiled, before he held out his hand to me. After eyeing it for a few seconds, I raised my own hand to grab his. William gently laced his fingers with mine, before pulling me to my feet.

My eyes widened, as I realized how close we were. My chest pressed up against his and I felt how William gently put his arm around my waist.

What he did next surprised me. His movements were fast. With one swift motion, he sat back down on the sofa behind him. But he had pulled me with him, so that I had landed on his lap.

I gasped, as I felt his soft hands on my waist and his warm body beneath mine.

"William?", I whispered.

"This is my wish, Y/N,", he mumbled and raised a hand. He gently caressed my cheek.

"Just...say stop, if you're uncomfortable and I will stop.", William explained and closed his eyes. He leaned in closer, until his forehead rested against mine.

"It's okay.", I mumbled.

I watched as William opened his eyes again, but he was hesitant so I decided to help him. I raised my hands to rest on his shoulders to pull him closer. My left hand wandered to his tie, pulling him impossibly closer. William finally seemed to understand that I wanted this as much as him.

He overcame the last few inches between us and pressed his lips on mine.

I hummed against his lips. He was soft and unexperienced, but it still felt heavenly. One of his hands rested against my cheek, while his other hand pulled my body flush against his.

"Will...",I mumbled against his lips.

"Yes, my love?", he smiled, while his lips kept kissing the skin that was exposed to him. First my jawline and then my neck. He left a trail of featherlight kisses. My eyes closed at the pleasant feeling of his lips. This was something that I had never experienced before. The gentleness of his touch. His soft lips, his nimble fingers. It was Intoxicating.

A small moan escaped my lips, as William found my sweetpot. His lips kept traveling lower and lower, until he had reached the soft material of my dress. On the other hand I could feel his delicate touch on my thighs. His hands that pushed my dress up higher and higher, untill his hands comfortably rested on the exposed skin of my hips.

"William", I moaned again, "Shouldn't we...?"

William seemed to understand my hint, as he hoisted me up against his hips, his lips never leaving my skin. My arms closed around his neck, as he walked the both of us to his bedroom.

The last thought I had, before his bedroom door closed, was that hopefully, my grandfather didn't hear us. Or anyone else.

I awoke to the soft sunlight tickling my skin. My eyes fluttered open and once I had adjusted to the bright light, I realized where I was. It was William's room.

I wanted to turn around, but I realized that two strong arms were wrapped around me to keep me in place.

"A few more minutes", I heard William mumble against my neck. He pulled me closer against his chest.

"My grandfather will kill us", I mumbled and leaned into his embrace.

"He definitely will", William agreed. I could almost hear the smile on his face.

"It was worth it.",he admitted. His grip around me loosened a bit, so that I could turn around in his embrace.

He had finally opened his eyes, which were Intensely gazing at me now.

I raised me hand to gently comb through his messy hair. William sighed at my actions and let his eyes fall close again.

"It was worth it.", I finally agreed.

William opened his eyes and smiled. I felt how his hands wandered to my waist and he pulled me closer again. He planted a kiss on my forehead.

"I think it's better, if we tell my grandpa now.",I mumbled.

"Something tells me, he already knows", William chuckled.

"How come?", I asked perplexed.

"Darling", he smiled, "It was impossible to not hear us last night."

[starg1rlie]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⟡ rating. fluff ( general audience )

⟡ prompt. "calla lily" ( getting married to character )

notes. joined ying's lil' milestone event , hehe , hopefully this doesn't botch on me . . . personally , weddings to me are so vv cute and magical !! ( also pardon if the wedding vows don't match the ones that you're used to , i just did it from memory ) reblogs and likes are appreciated ! | wc. 852 words ( 4,742 characters )

⟡ feat. various x fem! reader ( tartaglia, ayato, diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, thoma )

ㅤㅤWhat a feeling it is to be wed to someone, to be linked to the love of your life, to feel such joy and happiness as you look into your spouse’s eyes and know that your unconditional love is reciprocated, maybe even multiplied by tenfold. Marriage. Wedding. Vows. 

ㅤㅤYou liked to replay that night, the night he proposed to you, in your head as the two of you began wedding preparations. Thinking of the engagement ring sliding down your finger as you made plans for the wedding cake (he preferred a cake with the sweetness level lowered accordingly to match his palette), thinking of the way he swept you up in his arms while you were being fitted for your dress, thinking about the amount of unbridled affection and love in his eyes as you prepared yourself to do a practice walk down the aisle you’d walk on come next morning.

ㅤㅤ“You’re beautiful,” he murmured that night as he wrapped you up in a blanket and pulled you into his warm embrace. “You’re amazing.” He then pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’re all that I could ever want or need.” He burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning out against your collarbone, eliciting a giggle from you. “You’re my everything.”

ㅤㅤYou remembered quite vividly how happy you felt in that moment, simply you and him, tangled limbs under the bedsheets, thinking of the future that you two would share together. You remembered linking your hand with his, fingers lacing through his own, and staring into his eyes, his dazzling and mesmerizing eyes. You remembered watching him sleep, head propped up by one hand, the other still clasping your fiance’s, watching his chest rise and fall steadily with each intake of breath, admiring the curve of his jawline, drinking in every detail of his face, his body, his entire being so it would be permanently seared into your brain. 

ㅤㅤAnd so when the fateful day finally came, when you slipped into the wondrous dress your friends had picked out with you one night, when you held onto the bouquet of flowers in your hands tightly, when you adjusted the veil so that it would obscure your face (he’d chastise you for wearing it, covering your beautiful face from him, and you’d simply brush it off with a “it’s tradition”), you felt ready. Actually, scratch that, you felt more than ready. The procession began; someone was playing the wedding march on the piano, a child (no doubt Jean and Lisa’s; they recently adopted an adorable little girl) was wailing before she was soothed by her mothers, and even a few sniffles and tearful gazes. What a wonderful day it was to be married, to be wed to the love of your life.

ㅤㅤ“Do you, (Name), take this strapping young man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death?” the priest inquired, looking up from his book. 

ㅤㅤYou nodded, murmuring the words “I do” as the man proceeded, asking the same question to your soon-to-be husband.

ㅤㅤ“And do you, sir, take this lovely young lady to be your lawfully wedded wife?” 

ㅤㅤHe looked at you for a moment, a smile flickering over his lips, before nodding firmly. “I do.”

ㅤㅤ“And so, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, husband, and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

ㅤㅤA cheer rose up from the people seated within the quaint little chapel he’d picked out, everyone rising to their feet and clapping loudly. You turned from your now-husband to wave at them all, blowing kisses towards everyone before turning back to face him. 

ㅤㅤ“Hey,” he said softly, quick to pull you in by the waist, using his free hand to push up your veil to get a better look at your face.

ㅤㅤ“Hey,” you replied with a small laugh, tugging off the elbow-length gloves you were currently wearing, placing a hand delicately against his cheek, cupping it and rubbing a thumb over the skin soothingly.

ㅤㅤ“So. We’re married now, huh?” He said with a low chuckle, that smirk never leaving his face as he slipped his hand under your chin, tilting you up closer to his face. “Who woulda thought? If someone told me ten years ago that I would marry my best friend, I would believe them to have rocks in their head.”

ㅤㅤYou tittered. “Yeah, I wouldn’t believe them either. But here we are.”

ㅤㅤ“Here we are,” he repeated, fondness clear in his tone. His eyes darted down to your lips, ignoring the ongoing chants of “kiss him!”, instead, initiating the kiss first, turning his head to angle his lips properly, locking against yours. The cheers rose again once more, noise amplified even louder, ringing in your ears as he swept you up in his arms, true bridal-style.

ㅤㅤ“Shall we go, wife?” he said with a grin.

ㅤㅤYou beamed at him, pecking his cheek. “We shall, husband.”

📮 tagging. no one yet ! fill out this form if you want to be tagged (@i23kazu )

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Fourteen

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, Smut, World on Fire spoilers

Word Count: 4.3K

Notes: Angst and horniness, coming right up.

June 1940

No matter how hard he kicked, Tom couldn’t get his legs loose of the damn sheet.

“Calm down, calm down!” Tom had come round to find himself crammed into a corridor lined with other injured men, his shoulder bound with gauze strapped to his chest. The accent of the man shouting at him told him everything he needed to know. Still in bloody France. The man, a doctor judging by the white coat he wore, held Tom’s shoulders and pushed him down. Tom hissed as the touch aggravated his wound.

“Get your dirty, grubby hands off me now!” He kicked his leg and caught the man holding down his legs. “Let go of me and I’ll take my chance!”

“Listen! If you leave now, you will die!”

“Oh, so I just stay here and surrender like you lot?” Tom spat in the man’s face as another doctor and nurse arrived. “Paris has fallen. She just told me,” he indicated to the woman. “And not a shot fired. How’s a bunch of cowards going to keep me safe?”

“Pardon?” The doctor holding his shoulders lunged at Tom, who squared up to him from his position on the bed.

“Jacques,” the nurse grabbed him. “Jacques!”

The doctor at the end of the bed spoke. An American. “Before you say another word about French cowardice, just remember it was a French ambulance crew who rescued you.”

Tom relaxed his shoulders and pushed out his chin. “Christ. You think you rescued me?” His temper was rising. “Thanks to you I’m in a city crawling with Nazis. And where are my clothes?”

“Incinerated.” Said the nurse.

“You fucking what?” He panicked. The only thing keeping him sane was gone.

“I assume you are after this?” Jacques, the doctor, picked something up from Tom’s bedside table. Tom snatched the photograph from his grip and rolled onto his good shoulder, Bess safely tucked beneath his pillow.

“Now piss off and let me die in peace.” His voice was final, and the medics left him. Certain that they were gone, Tom took out Bess’ photograph and traced her face with his finger. The letters were surely gone, and there was no way that he could get one to her while Nazis lurked around every corner. He had to get home, and soon.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

Distantly, Bess heard the ring of the telephone in the ground floor hallway. Manchester was warming as sun gleamed off the stone buildings and rose into the smog strewn sky. Every door in Carver Mills was open. Other girls’ laughter fluttered through the stairwell and, occasionally, so too did the warble of a record being played. Bess was lounging on her bed, watching white bed linen flutter on the washing line beyond the window. A rare day off and a chance to relax. She was just closing her eyes when Mrs Russo’s voice called up to her.

“Bess! Phone for you, darling.”

No-one ever telephoned Bess. The only people who would were Cora, Dot and Dadda, and they’d have to borrow Mrs Mason’s telephone or else use the phone box on Plymouth Street. Trying to ease her rapidly rising nerves, Bess swung her legs from the bed and hurried barefoot down the cold stone steps. Mrs Russo was stood by the front door, apron on, phone tucked beneath her ear as she dusted the hallway cabinet. She smiled when she saw Bess coming down the stairs.

“Here she is, love,” she said to whoever was on the other end of the phone and passed the receiver to Bess. “Your sister,” she mouthed, before striding into the bright light of the day armed with a mop and can.

Bess held the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hi honey,” It was Cora, her voice unnaturally bright. “How’s the day off?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Cora never called. “What’s happened?” There was a sniffle on the other end of the line and Bess’ heart lurched.

“Oh, Bess,” Cora’s voice wobbled.

“What’s happened?” No reply. “Cora? Is it Dadda?”

“No, it’s not Dadda-” Her voice was small, defeated.

“Oh darling,” realisation dawned on Bess. “Has something happened to Roger? Do you want me to come ho-”

Cora spoke over her. “It’s not Roger.” Her voice was firming up, and before the words left her sister’s mouth, Bess swayed where she stood. This was the sound of someone readying themself to deliver bad news. Having heard their friend’s raised voice, Helen and Joan appeared on the stairs. Bess looked up at them wide-eyed as she waited for Cora to deliver the devastating blow.

“Bess, it’s Tom.”

“What about him?” Bess’ voice was sharp, steel walls rising to avoid any pain.

“Douglas got a telegram this morning. Darling, Tom’s missing.”

The soft flesh of her knees split as she hit the floor, though she didn’t feel it. A hand groped for the receiver, now dangling from its wire, and Bess vaguely saw that it wasn’t hers.

“Hello? Cora? Yes, it’s Helen-”

Bess’ body was pulled sideways and her arms trapped at her sides. Joan had wrapped her arms about her and was holding her tight. Bess lay there silently, pressed into Joan’s chest as Helen spoke lowly into the telephone. A minute later, she joined them on the floor and covered Bess’ body with her own. Joan whispered gently in her ear, though what she was saying, Bess couldn’t tell. When Helen reached out an arm to grip Bess’ hand, it was then that she realised she was shaking. Quaking with paroxysms of despair.

“Come on, little love,” Joan brushed some hair out of Bess’ face. “Let’s get you upstairs.” Together, Helen and Joan hauled Bess to her room, patched up her knees and laid her own the bed.

“Dry your eyes,” Helen passed Bess a tissue. She’d been crying? All Bess knew was that in the time Cora had telephoned, she had seen nothing but Tom. Tom, trapped in a prisoner of war camp. Tom, lost in the wilderness of battle-scarred Europe. Tom, lying unfound in ditch. Tom, in a shallow grave next to the rotting body of her brother.

She stared at her bedroom wall. The light turned from egg-yolk yellow to bitter plum, the only indication that the day had faded into evening. Helen and Joan left few hours ago. Or was in ten minutes? Bess was beyond the world of noticing. When a knock came at the door, she did nothing, only continued to stare at the cold wall and peeling wallpaper.

“Bess, love?” Mrs Russo stood at the door to Bess’ bedroom. “Some post came for you.” When Bess didn’t move, the older woman stepped into the room and placed the letters on the bedside table in front of where she lay. “You’ll catch your death lying here,” Mrs Russo leant over Bess’ lifeless form and shut the window. “Come down later, if you feel up to it. I’ve made soup.” She kissed Bess’ head and left, the click of the door and her retreating footsteps the only sound.

When all was quiet again, Bess sighed. Before the war, she had been content, and that was all a working-class girl from the north of England could hope for. She would never open her own fashion house. Never marry a rich man. Likely never leave Manchester. But Bess did have her work, her family, her pride. She’d heard Dot speak about her fear of never achieving anything. Looking back at her life when she is an old woman and seeing nothing but duty and boredom. When did greatness and notoriety become the measures of a good life? Bess always told her, is it not enough to be joyful and love and be loved? To be content and happy. What now, then, when contentment and happiness had gone from her life? Albie alone in France, buried God knows where. Tom with him, or soon to join him? An older sister who would never know first love without fear. A younger sister whose remaining years of childhood were defiled by war, and a father wounded by grief.

Bess’ eyes drifted the letters Mrs Russo left. Her name was smudged a little, and for a fleeting moment, she thought it was Tom’s handwriting. The address, however, proved her excitement wrong and she stilled. Who was left to write? She took the letter and ripped open the envelope.

“I know what you’re trying to do. Telling me all about your little date in the hopes it will make me jealous. Would it make you smile, love, if I told you it was working?”

Bess dropped the letter like hot coal. She ran to the bedroom door and slammed it shut. Leant against the doorframe, she clutched her heart and felt it hammer against her chest. Even missing, Tom Bennett could still make her weak. Tentatively, as though it would scold to touch it, Bess padded to the bed and picked up the letter once more.

“Does he know you like I do? Does he know that you collected feathers and eggshells when you were small, or that you write secret letters to a criminal like me?”

With every word, her breath quickened and pulse raced.

“Can he read you like I can? That you only smoke as a means to avoid speaking?”

Her mouth went dry.

“That when your eyes darken and those perfect lips of yours part, when you blush and it spreads right across your nose, it means you desperately want fucking?”

Bess’ head hit the pillow.

“It means you desperately want fucking”

Despite her terror. Despite the grief of the day, Bess laughed. He wanted her. Until the moment he went missing, he wanted her. If he was alive, perhaps he still did. She reached for the photograph of Tom, propped against her lamp, and held it behind the letter. The other hand ran down the buttons of her loose shirt and ruched the hem of her skirt. Over the edge of the letter, Tom’s eyes watched her.

“Can he satisfy you like I can, Bess? Are his fingers long? Have they been inside you yet? I know I could do it, Bess, if you’d let me.”

Heat welled between her legs as she pressed a palm against her sex.

“If I try, I can hear you moaning my name. I can feel your cunt against me. If your family hadn’t come home I’d have ravished you, Bess. I’d have fucked you with my mouth, my fingers, my cock.”

Bess’ fingers dipped into the warmth of her folds, and with half-lidded eyes she committed Tom’s photograph to memory.

“Made love to you until your mind could think of nothing but me. Can this James boy do that for you? Can he satisfy you like I could?”

Over and over she read the letter, over and over her nimble fingers worked her arousal undone.

“I’m mad with wanting you, love. I’ll kill any man that gets in my way to you. You’re mine, Bess.”

With a shudder and moan of his name, Bess unravelled to the image of Tom on her tailor’s stand. Tom beating Walter Watson to a pulp. Tom between her legs. Weak from her release, the letter fluttered to the ground and for a few blissful moments Bess forgot her heartache. Tom Bennett still wanted her. She giggled and reached for the letter, desperate to read his words once more. As she leant over the bed, she saw the mess of paper on the ground. Tom’s photograph, his letter, and the second envelope. She must have knocked it to the ground in her haste to be rid of the first.

She froze. It was him. Again. The smudged scrawl. It was definitely him. Abandoning her attempt to retrieve the first letter, Bess once again ripped open the envelope. Would it be a repeat of the first? In a perverse way, she hoped it was.

“Your letters are the best thing that happens to me at sea, but I couldn’t bear being the cause of more pain.”

In direct opposition to his first letter, the second caused Bess’ heart to stop.

“We’re going into something big, Bess, and I’m scared I won’t come back.”

“Oh, Tom.” Bess stood from the bed and hurried her way through the tiny flat.

“If I don’t, know that I think of you every second of every day.”

She opened the door, eyes never leaving the page.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days regretting what I did to you but know this, I adore you.”

Tears were falling now, and she could feel them. Angry, heartbroken, elated, fearful tears.

“Think of me, as I’m forever thinking of you.”

Her feet brought her to a door on the second floor of the boarding house. She knocked twice and brushed some tears form her red cheeks. The door swung open, and Joan stood before her, cigarette in hand and hair in curlers.

“Bess?”

Bess could do nothing but hold up the letter and laugh sadly.

“He adored me.”

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

Tom watched as Webster’s blood funnelled through the tube and into his veins. What with the pain in his shoulder, the city heat and his growing unease at the Nazis walking the halls of the hospital, the sight did nothing to settle his stomach and he looked to the ceiling.

Webster, while admiring Tom’s spirit, was himself growing annoyed at the man’s impatient recklessness. He understood as much as any other his desperation to be away from Paris with the one he loved, but the reality was not as easy as their imaginations would wish.

“What are you going to do with out help?” Webster whispered quietly. “All these men need my help. You’re prisoners of war now.”

“I’ll head for the coast.” Even agitated, Tom seemed a cocksure and certain man. If not for the war, Webster would have liked a drink with Tom Bennett.

“And which way is that, hm?”

Tom paused. “I’ll think of something.”

“Listen,” Webster sat up a little, careful not to disturb the needle in his arm. “I’ve talked to a couple of French guys who are setting up an escape route. They can help you.” Tom’s eyebrows rose and he waited for Webster to continue. “You can go across the Pyrenees into Spain, Spain to Gibraltar then home from there.”

Tom smirked. “I get lost walking home from Belle-Vue, mate.” Exasperated and having reached the end of his capacity to cope with the Mancunian, Webster rested his head against the bedframe with a sigh. “What? You’ve never heard of Belle-Vue? You don’t know what you’re missing.” Bright lights flashed before his eyes and he could see Bess on the carousel, head tipped back with laughter. Tom smiled.

“First, you need to get registered as an injured prisoner of war,” Webster’s voice was hurried, eager to test out his plan.

“Yeah, then what?”

“Then you die.”

Tom looked at Webster flatly. “Well I hate to be picky-” Webster ignored him.

“Once you’re declared dead it makes it easier for you to escape. They won’t be looking for you.”

Tom spotted a flaw in the plan. “Won’t they want to see a corpse?”

“We’ve got no shortages of corpses, buddy.”

“And this’ll work, will it?”

“You’ll know before I do.” Tom stared at Webster, disbelieving. “We’ve never actually tried it before.”

Tom scoffed nervously. “Great.”

“The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be reunited with your girl-”

“She’s not my girl anymore.” Tom snapped, and the two watched in silence as the dark blood ran between them.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

“And Bess, thank you for the clothes. Douglas brought them over on his last visit.”

Despite herself, Bess felt a pang of jealousy. Douglas has clearly made a new friend since her move to the city. She’d have to drop in soon.

“Of course, Albie would’ve been glad to see them go to a good home.”

Robina Chase nodded awkwardly, caught somewhere between giving thanks and condolences. She turned away and began to dress as Bess packed away her tools. Summer meant preparing for autumn fashions. Or, in wartime Britain, autumn tailoring.

The front door opened and shut with a thud, and Robina sighed. “Will you stay for a cup of tea, Bess? What’s one more person, hm?” Bess smiled and followed the woman downstairs, where she saw Harry, Jan and a man that could only be Demba; Mrs Chase had already told Bess all about the Senegalese soldier Harry had brought home.

Harry kissed his mother’s cheek, and then Bess’. “I’m so sorry about Albie, Bess. We’ll miss his face at the dances.”

“And he’d miss the dancing!” Bess smiled to ease the sadness rapidly descending on the entrance hall. “You must be Demba.” She held out a hand to shake the stranger’s. His smile was warm when he shook her hand, and Bess could see why Harry liked him so.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He said.

“Miss!” Bess teased with mock offence.

“Pardon,” Demba held is hands to his heart and the three of them laughed. Mrs Chase clicked her tongue and hurried away to fetch the tea.

“Hello, Miss Bess,” A little voice said from behind Harry.

“Hello, Master Jan.” Bess held out a hand to him, which he took, and she led him into the sitting room where Robina was setting out the china. He perched himself on an armchair, and Bess took the seat next to Demba. Harry stood somewhat agitatedly behind them and watched as his mother picked up her newspaper.

PARIS HAS FALLEN

The headline was accompanied by an image of the Luftwaffe flying over Paris. Noticing the silence, Robina lowered the newspaper.

“Harry tells me you saved him.” She addressed Demba. He smiled graciously before replying.

“He saved a lot of men.” A true gentleman. Bess smiled before Robina could ruin the moment.

“How very reassuring,” she gave her son a pointed look.

“Like his mother and father perhaps?” Demba seemed unaware of the bump in the conversation. “His courage?”

“Harry’s father had many qualities, but it transpires that courage wasn’t one of them.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Harry’s tone was terse.

Robina bristled and picked up her newspaper. Bess wanted the plush settee to swallow her whole. She took a sip of her tea.

“The Germans didn’t bomb Paris,” Robina’s voice was hopeful. The three young people opposite stared at her. “That surely is a good sign.”

“Of what exactly?” Bess could hear Harry trying to restrain is frustration.

“That when all is said and done, at least they are a civilised people-”

“Je suis désolée,” Demba and Bess turned to look at Harry as he spoke. “Ma mère ne sait pas de quoi elle parle.”

KNOCK KNOCK KOCK

Thank Christ. Bess and Demba relaxed in their seats. Jan saw and giggled. The same could not be said of Robina, who sighed and threw her newspaper on the couch. “Surely this week can’t get any more surprising.” She strode towards the front door. The four left in the sitting room said nothing, and Bess stuck her tongue out at Jan to make him smile.

When Robina returned with Lois Bennett, Harry jolted forwards and, struck by a similar awkwardness to his mother, abruptly stopped whatever motion his body had been about to enact.

“Lois!”

“Bess?”

“Bess has been tailoring some clothes for me.” Lois sat next to Robina, and Harry plonked himself next to Bess, causing her to shuffle sideways into Demba. Silence reigned once more, until little Jan spoke up.

“Is Douglas coming?”

Robina laughed.

“No, sorry. But he sent you this,” Lois leant over her now enormous bump and picked up a package wrapped in brown paper. “It isn’t brand new. It’s the same one Tom had when he was your age.” She locked eyes with Bess, who suddenly found a loose thread on her trousers to fuss with. “Dad says next time you play, you can wear it.” Jan smiled, unaware of Lois and Bess’ sorrow.

“I feel rather as though I’ve arrived late at the theatre and need someone to explain the plot to me.” Robina look to Bess and Demba for agreement.

“I am sorry,” Lois said sincerely. “I had no idea you had so many people here.” She stood up and Harry did the same so suddenly it nearly caused Bess to spill her tea. He was pleading with Lois.

“Lois, wait. I…”

Sensing that she was intruding on familial politics far more complicated than she first assumed to know, Bess jumped from her seat. “Come on Jan, let’s see if Tom’s shirt improves your aim.” The little boy laughed and followed her into the garden, the red football jersey trailing behind him.

“She’s an odd girl, Demba.” Robina said as the four remaining in the house watched Bess and Jan play. “Would be ever so charming if she only sorted her hair and wore rouge. There’s a spinster in the making.”

“Mother, please.”

From the garden, Bess kept one eye on Jan and one on the people in the sitting room. When Demba was the only person left sitting, she ran inside.

“Harry?” She was a little out of breath. “Do you have a camera? I want to get a photo of Jan in his jersey.”

“Just a minute.” Clearly glad of an excuse to leave, Harry left the room. No-one spoke, and Bess saw Robina’s eyes follow the path of Harry’s footsteps on the ceiling above. He returned a minute later with a camera and handed it to Bess. “Keep it,” Robina opened her mouth to protest but Harry silenced her with a look. “I never used it.”

“Thank you,” Bess squeezed his hand and ran back outside.

“Jan!” The boy stopped kicking the football against the wall and looked at her. She held up the camera. “Give us your best pose.” The little boy placed his arms against his hips and foot atop the ball. Bess laughed and clicked the camera. “Very good!”

Lois put her head into the garden. “Harry is taking me home, Bess. Do you want a lift?”

“No, you’re alright, I’m going to stay with Jan for a bit.” She beamed at the boy and he smiled back, thinking of his older sister as he did. “And if you need help, when the time comes,” Bess nodded to Lois’ bump. “You let me know.”

“Thanks, love.” Bess and Jan watched as she retreated into the house.

“Right then, young man,” Bess clapped the little boy on the shoulder. “Show us what you’ve got.” She ran into the makeshift goal and Jan lined up the football.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

That night, after her dinner with Mrs Russo and the other girls, Bess made her way to her room. Switching on the wireless, she tuned it to some music and covered her windows with the blackouts. From her bedside table, she retrieved the stack of Tom’s letters she had gathered over the nine months since the war began. All but one, which she left tucked beneath her pillow. Rereading it had become a common occurrence in her night-time routine. And morning routine, come to think of it.

Sat at the kitchen table, under the soft lamplight, Bess twiddled a pen between her fingers as she read over his last letter.

“I adore you.”

Tom was right, he knew her better than anyone. All those years of stolen conversations and silent glances. And just as Bess had found her voice, found herself opening her heart to him in her letters he was gone. Tom might never come back, but Bess wasn’t ready to let go of him yet. Contentment and love could still be hers if she tried.

Retrieving a leaf of paper, Bess unscrewed the cap of her pen and began to write.

Tom,

Your letter arrived the same day I found out you are missing, and you broke my heart for the third time. Your letters could never hurt me, and I only wish I could look forward to more.

She stopped to hastily wipe away a tear. Looking at Tom’s letter, she answered each of his admission in turn.

If I never see you again, I hope you are resting now in the knowledge that I too, think of you every single day and will never stop.

If, by some miracle, you come back home to us, know that I will spend the rest of my life regretting the night we fought and that day at the train station. I’ll never stop telling you how much I adore you.

Dream of me, wherever you are, as I am forever dreaming of you.

Yours, as I always have been,

Bess.

She placed the sheet of paper in an envelope, writing Tom’s name and date on the fore. With nowhere to send it, nowhere to send her love, Bess rested her head against the table and wept.

Notes: Jan and Demba deserve the world! I changed the order of some of the TV scenes just to make it flow a little better. We’re with Tom more for the next chapter, which will probably be up sometime mid-next week as I’m heading home for a hen do. Will try to get some writing done on the dismally long journey. Want to really get inside his head and his feelings!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 '@exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

[fairy-writes]

Gratz to having 1.6k followers!! I'm a sucker for angst and I love this idea! I plan on submitting a second request right after this too!

May I request prompt #7 with the 11th doctor? I'd also like to have a pregnant female reader too if possible. If pregnancy icks you, then just a female reader is fine. Hurt me in the worst possible way. Please rip my heart out!

A SPOT OF TEA AND A CHAT

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: “Keep breathing, you’re doing great.”

Fandom(s): Doctor Who

Pairing(s): 11th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 0.7k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Pregnant!Reader, Mentions of Abortion, Panic Attacks, Angst to Comfort

Notes: This is more platonic than anything :) But I hope you like it nonetheless! (Also, sorry, my brain is being consumed by burnout, but I wanted to publish this before a whole year passed, so it’s not as sad as it would’ve usually been)

Make sure to read the tags!! 

__________________________________________________________________________

The world was spinning even though you never moved from your spot on the bench. Your fingers trembled, and you dug them into your cranium with all your strength. 

All the while, no one paid you any mind. Everyone passed you by, enraptured by their phone calls or conversations, to even notice you having a mental breakdown. You were convinced that no one even noticed you at all.

At least… until someone stopped.

Someone sitting next to you but not quite touching you yet. But that doesn’t change the fact that someone is there. Maybe they’re there to laugh, maybe cry with you, but there’s someone beside you, and you just have to look.

Floppy hair, a tweed suit, and a rather flamboyant bow tie; the man can’t be any older than yourself, but something in his green, green eyes screams that he is oh so old. When he notices you looking at him, he offers a hopeful smile.

“Pardon for bothering you, but I had to ask… Are you alright?”

Ah yes… The dreaded question…

But the one that broke the dam within you, and you promptly burst into tears.

This sent the man panicking. He jolted and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a sorry attempt at a one-armed hug. You take great heaving gasps as you try to regain a sense of calm. 

“Keep breathing, you’re doing great. Just deep breaths. There you go, love.” He soothes and you find that he’s an excellent sort of rock. He grounds you with his touch, rubbing your arm up and down with hands that tell of a life on the run. 

After what seems like an eternity, you finally manage to get your sobbing and gasping under control. The man pulls a handkerchief from his suit pocket and offers it, which you take gratefully. 

“I’m sorry. It wasn't my intention to upset you even more.” He says, and you shake your head as you wipe your eyes. 

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. Just… Having a bad day, y’know?” You sniffle, and he nods like he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“I get that. Would you like to grab a spot of tea and talk about it? A friend of mine says that tea and talking usually help.”

You want to decline. You want to go home. But you know for a fact that if you go home, you’ll just wallow in self-pity until your boyfriend comes home. 

And you can’t have that. 

So you accept. 

The mysterious man disappears for a hot moment before returning with two insulated cups of ginger tea. The earthy spice does wonders for your clogged sinuses, and you sip greedily despite it still being a tad hot to the tongue. 

How he knew your exact tea order, you’d never know. Perhaps he just guessed. Maybe he was some sort of mind reader. You didn’t know and didn’t care.

“Now, what has you all worked up?” The man asks, and you cringe. 

“Well… For starters… I’m pregnant.” He sits up ramrod straight, eyes wide and a delighted smile. “Well, congratulations!” He exclaims, and you flinch. Your flinching singlehandedly makes him deflate, and he speaks again in a softer tone. “You don’t want it?” 

“My boyfriend doesn’t. He wants me to get an abortion.” You whisper, and the man puts his arm around you again. 

“Do you want one?” At this, you can’t help but shrug.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want right now.” You feel the tears well up again and take a hasty sip of tea to help keep them at bay.

The man seems to know this and wraps his arm around your shoulders again. 

“Y’know…” He starts, setting his cup down and rubbing his free hand on his pant leg. “Everyone has to make decisions in their life. Hard ones, too. But they need to make those decisions for themselves, not for anyone else. Sure, they can have other’s input, but overall, it’s their decision to make. And theirs alone.”

You nod along with what he’s saying. It makes sense. Perhaps he’s right…

“You know, I never caught your name?” You hesitantly ask instead of replying to his little speech, and the man beams, 

“I’m the Doctor!” He chirps, and you frown, 

“Doctor who?” His grin widens.

“Exactly!”

[2baddiesfanfics]

Deceiving Appearances

Pairing: Ei x Miko

Tags: Dresses, Fontaine (Genshin Impact), Party, Scars, Body Worship, Dress Up, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus

Summary:

Ei and Miko, along with the other archons and their familiars, have been invited to a party in Fontaine to celebrate Furina. Navia, the host, adds a special touch by surprising them with dresses from Chioriya Boutique. While these elegant garments are meant to dazzle, the Shogun may find herself unprepared for the emotions they stir within her. 

Read on Ao3

The electro archon and her familiar arrived in Fontaine to a fanfare of a welcome. A luxury suite had been prepared for them at the Hotel Debord, and everyone they came into contact with waited on them hand and foot. Of course, Miko reveled in the attention while Ei found it embarrassing. But who was she to tell the President of the Spina di Rosula no?

Navia had invited them to attend a farewell celebration for the former hydro archon, and, since the Shogun held the esteemed title of current archon, she, Venti, Zhongli, Nahida, and all their familiars had received a summons.

Word of Lady Furina’s sacrifice had traveled to all corners of Teyvat, and Ei felt it was the least she could do to show her respect for the bravery the girl had displayed in the face of condemnation.

A knock at the door interrupted their morning reading of the latest issue of The Steambird.

“Now whoever could that be? Miko, did you invite anyone to the room?”

Without looking up from her paper, she shook her head in the negative.

It turned out to be Clorinde on assignment from Navia. “Pardon the interruption, ladies. Navia wanted me to bring over these dresses for you both to wear for the event tomorrow night.”

“What an unexpected surprise! Please, come in.” The duelist entered and laid both on the back of the sitting room couch.

“I found it strange Chiori already had your measurements until I remembered she originally hailed from Inazuma. She sends her regards and apologizes for not being able to bring you these personally.”

“Ah, yes, I hear she’s made quite a name for herself here. Oh my, aren’t these absolutely lovely, Ei?” Miko exclaimed as she admired the undoubtedly expensive fabric.

“Um, yes. Quite beautiful, indeed…” the Shogun answered softly.

“I really should be going now. Navia’s running me ragged across the city today delivering packages to the other archons as well. Everything’s paid for, so please, don’t worry.” Clorinde rushed out of the room, and the two were alone once again.

“If I had known how friendly the people of Fontaine were, I would have mentioned visiting ages ago,” Miko quipped as she continued to examine the glittering crimson dress before her.

Ei walked over to look at her own dark purple backless gown. With no sleeves, her shoulders would be bared to the world.

“I don’t know if I should thank Chiori or be jealous of everyone who gets to see you in that,” the kitsune said as she eyed the dress in her hands. “Let’s try them on!”

“How about you go first.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice! I’ll be back in two shakes of a fox’s tail - no peeking!” The guuji disappeared for a few minutes and then emerged looking incredible. Her girlfriend looked her up and down, mouth agape.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something?” She teased.

“You look…gorgeous!” Ei said as she got up and pulled her in for a kiss.

“Wait, wait! Not yet. We can’t get these all wrinkled before tomorrow’s celebration.” Now that I know it fits like a glove, I’m going to change. Your turn, dear!”

Ei nodded quietly before she retreated to their bedroom. She undressed and then slipped into the silken material. Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, her eyes darted directly to the dark scars that marred her shoulders, back, and side. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from sobbing.

Minutes passed and Miko was starting to worry. “Ei? Love? Is everything alright? Do you need help with the dress?”

Trying to muffle her sniffles, the Shogun responded, “N-no, I’m fine. I’ll be out in but a moment.”

The guuji’s ears twitched. “You can’t fool me, Ei. It’s the curse of being a kitsune, you know. I’m coming in.”

When she entered the room, she witnessed a sight she could never have prepared herself for. The Shogun, normally strong and proud, had sunk to the floor, her hands covering her face as she wept. Miko dashed over to her and pulled her to her chest.

“Dearest, you’re scaring me…whatever is the matter?”

Ei struggled against her, trying to push her away.

“Will you stop wriggling about and just talk to me? I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s going on…”

“Look at me, Miko!” She screeched, pointing to the myriads of scars etched into her skin. “I’m hideous! I can’t show up to an event as a symbol of strength when these paint a picture of how weak I am.”

The guuji gripped her firmly by her shoulders. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“These are evidence of the battles I’ve lost, the missteps I’ve taken that cost me dearly. I live in constant condemnation. I’m mocked by wounds that scoff at the fact I couldn’t save Makoto. I couldn’t save Inazuma from war against itself. What person in their right mind would ever call someone like me a leader?” Tears streamed down her face, her eyesight so blurry she couldn’t make out her girlfriend’s reaction to her confession.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks with her thumbs, the kitsune took her face in her hands. “I, for one, do not see these ‘scars’ you speak of. I see untold stories. Epic tales of valor engraved in the flesh of a woman who has fought valiantly for years to protect her people. They reveal growth and prove how far you’ve come - more importantly, that you survived and came back to me.”

Ei pulled Miko toward her, burying her face in her shoulder. The guuji could feel her shaking and held her tighter. “Perhaps I was mistaken. Nobody is going to notice them. They’ll be too busy gawking at the goddess on my arm.”

She felt the Shogun chuckle. “I’m an archon, not a goddess.”

“Correction - you’re Inazuma’s archon, but my goddess. Come. Let’s get you out of this dress.” Miko turned her around carefully, kissing each scar down her back as she unzipped the gown.

“Miko,” Ei whispered.

“I fully intend to show you how I worship my goddess…if you’ll let me?”

Turning to face her familiar, the Shogun didn’t need to verbally reply. She let the dress fall to the floor, Miko’s clothing following suit. They walked over to the bed, the guuji guiding her girlfriend to lie down and get comfortable. She straddled her hips and leaned down to kiss her.

Their tongues danced against one another as the kitsune’s hands roamed Ei’s battle-toned body. She caressed her breasts, swiping her thumbs across her nipples causing the woman underneath her to whimper.

Miko took her time kissing every scar, murmuring sweet nothings about what made each a badge of honor. When she reached the one on her hip, she traced its outline with her tongue.

“This one is my favorite. Do you know why?”

Ei gasped, “N-no.”

“Because you got it saving me. You stepped in front of that ronin who tried to slash me when we were out looking for the lost daughter of one of your retainers. It was very noble of you. Plus…it’s in a place only I get to see.”

“Archons, Miko. You’re embarrassing me…”

The clever kitsune smiled as she made her way to her lover’s core. Lapping at the arousal that was building, she darted her tongue into her. The Shogun bit her lip to keep herself from crying out.

Miko brought her thumb to the bundle of nerves between the other woman’s thighs and moved in slow circles against it.

“Ohhhhh…Miko…”

Her groans urged her to quicken her pace. The guuji knew from the way Ei was squirming that she was almost there.

“You’re so beautiful my love,” she murmured as she moved. “Come for me…let me hear those gorgeous sounds you only make for me…”

The Shogun shuttered beneath her, her orgasm claiming her swiftly. Miko rose to meet her face-to-face, her lips seeking hers once more.

Ei moved her hand between their bodies, sliding two fingers across the kitsune’s clit. Miko purred at the sensation.

“I’m partial to the sounds you make, my foxy lover.”

The guuji chuckled at the corny pet name. “Is that the best you can come up with?” She teased.

“Oh, hush.”

Grabbing Miko’s breast, she sucked on her nipple as she continued to finger her. The kitsune arched her back as the combined feeling of the other woman’s actions set her body aflame. Collecting her slick, Ei entered her with ease.

She bucked her hips, driving her girlfriend’s fingers deeper. “Archons…Ei…faster…” The Shogun’s tongue teased Miko’s taught nipple as she toyed with her.  

“My, are you already close? We’ve barely even started…”

“Seeing you in that dress…I wanted to tear it off with my teeth…but I don’t think Chiori would appreciate me…ruining her handiwork,” she panted before seeking Ei’s lips for another kiss. The Shogun moved quickly, meeting her lover’s thrusts with her own until the other woman spasmed around her fingers.

Ei pulled her down and held onto her tightly. “Thank you.”

“For what? Telling the truth? Honestly, Ei, I’m going to have trouble keeping my hands off you at that party. It’s a shame I’ll have to be on my best behavior.”

“Just do me a favor, love - no growling at anyone. You may be a kitsune, but we do have appearances to keep up.”

[goodlucksnez]

DO NOT REBLOG TO NON-KINK BLOGS

MINORS FUCK OFF

WOW A POST

i know first thing since September, things have been hard. but I saved up spoons to make a wav of the lovely h/uskerd/ust. I barely tried with accents and things because again no spoons so sorry

I had this idea about h/usk losing a gamble cause of an allergen so yeah that is basically it. transcript is below sorry if it isnt the most clear I rushed it because i know if i didnt this would sit unfinished forever.

now with that being said...I think char. wavs might be stopping for a while. I dont have the time, energy nor spoons to do it, I want to but it is easier to record natural wav instead. I know for the .12% of people who will read this will not care but I wanted to lets others know!

DO NOT REBLOG TO NON-KINK BLOGS

MINORS FUCK OFF

transcript:

Angel: *walking up the the bar with a deck of cards* Hey Whiskers.

Husk: *cleaning* Hmm.

Angel: *mockingly*Ohh, come on. Don't you wanna play?

 Husk: If it will make you shut up, then I'm happy to oblige. What are we playing?

Angel: Ohh, did I get the kitty's attention? Such a gambling man.

Husk *sarcastically* You do realize who you're talking to, right?

Angel: *teasingly* Perfectly or, should I say Purrfectly.

Husk: *rolling his eyes* Oh, great. We're starting the cat puns again. As if that wasn't funny the 15th time.

Angel: I think you've had enough fun trouncing around like you are so much better than everyone, and I think that I can prove your bluff.

Husk: *laughing*

Angel: Oh, did I say something amusing?

Husk: Very much so. You think that you can con a gambler….fine. How do we make this interesting?

Angel: *smirking* Oh, I like when the Kitty has claws. Meow.

Husk: Hmm. If you win, I'll agree to wear that outfit that you bought.

Angel:  Oh, you don't mean…

Husk: Don't say it.

Angel: And what happens if you win? Not that I'm thinking that will happen, but tell me. You got me as curious as a cat.

Husk: If I win, then you'll stop with the cat puns forever.

Angel: You make a tough bargain. OK. OK. You got yourself a deal.

Husk: One round winner takes all

Angel:Perfect.

*dealing and shuffling cards*

Husk: Want to cut the deck.

Angel: Always

Husk:You seem rather cocky tonight. *sniffles and sneezes*

Angel:Trying to make me distracted already are we whiskers?

Husk: Nope. Just…Just. *Sneezing* Making conversation

Angel:Very well

Husk:Draw

Angel: Fine, fine. Hit me.

Husk:You got it.

Husk: I will also hit. *sneezing*

Angel:Bless you.

Husk: Thanks. What are you smiling at?

Angel: Nothing. I just think I'm gonna win.

Husk: Ohh. You're a terrible liar. I have gambled with human souls before. A little game of poker isn’t *hitching wipes his nose but accidentally does the hand motion to stay not hit*

Angel: That hand motion means stay.

Husk: Oh. Yeah. You're very funny, aren't you? All right.I'll give you that one. Maybe Niffy needs to dust more

 Angel: Oh, I don't think that's it. You know what? I think I'll stay. You're going to fold.

Husk *sneezing* So you're asking me if I call your bluff, huh?

Angel: Maybe.

Husk: *showing his hand*Read them and weep

Ange;” Ohh. Just the 13. Try 19 on for size.

Husk: How the fuck did you win?

Angel: Ooh, but I thought a gambler never went over his secrets.

Husk: Angel, you fucking tell me now or I swear I will….I will. *sneezing*  Ohh God. Don't you always carry something on you? Give me the shit

 Angel: I don't think it will help you because it's kind of drenched in lavender

Husk I beg your finest pardon…what

Angel: Well, I may have talked to creepy smile and well. I'm just so sick of you winning all the time. It was no fun anymore. You know, I do like to keep things up and loose. So he told me about a little issue you have with a certain smell. You wouldn't believe how long it took me to get this much.

Husk: Angel . I swear *sneezing*

Angel: Al  wasn't joking. You really are a mess with this.

T

 Husk: OK, so besides sneezing, how'd you figure it out?

Angel: Well. I know two things about you. One you'll never share anything over your face, and 2. If you're comfortable, you sit more open, relaxed, you would hunched over this entire time. And that could be from the allergic reaction that you're experiencing.

*sneezing*

Angel: or It could be from the fact that you didn't enjoy your hand. And the fact that you didn't even call me on my bluff? Well, it was obvious point past then, that I was going to win. Now Are you gonna go and be a good Kitty? *holding maid dress*

Husk:  I'm not putting it on, that was not fair. *sneezing* that was not a fair game and you know it

*walks over to angel*

Angel: All fair in love and war.,,,,,Husker. I really wouldn't walk over. I mean I'm literally covered in this, frankly, drowned a whole bottle. Wait, stop.

*Walks over and sneezes on his chest*

Angel : AHHH Fair, I guess I deserve that spray.

Husk: *hitching* I cant

Angel :You might want to step back.

*hitching*

 Angel : Ohh man, I can't watch this. OK. I'm sorry, Kitty. *rubs his nose*

Husk: wait Don't touch my nose *sneezing fit*

Angel: Breathe whisker Seriously geez. We're giving Lucifer a run for his money. ….OK OK, I'm stepping back Just breathe, OK?

*al appears*

Al: This is this an interesting sound.

Husk: Oh fuck off

Al:.But I'm here to save the day. Here below.

*husk blows his nose*

Angel :thank fuck al. I didn't think he was ever Gonna stop.

Al:  I may have forgot to mention he won't stop until he actually gets that junk out of his head. The kitten sneezing may be adorable, but it's ineffective to say the least. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go burn this. Take care.

 Angel : Are you feeling any better whiskers

Husk: Uh-huh

 Angel:OK, why don't you go lay down? I'll shower this off. And husk

Husk: hmmm

Angel: Who has the poker face now?.

[cainluvr69]

Main Story 2 Chapter 21 - Dyed by the World (Second Half)

Previous Chapter

6 - I've Finally Found You, My Bride

Kelvin: You're looking for the missing Queen?! She got cursed into a bird by an unknown wizard?! There's no way you can do that, it's going to be impossible!

Rustica: Thank you for your concern. But you needn't worry about it at all. Aria is to be my bride, you see. I need to find her as fast as I can. She must be scared out of her wits.

Kelvin: I'm telling you, it's impossible! Someone who knows as little about the ways of the real world as you is going to die within days out there! Huh? What's with that leather bag? It's full of gold coins…

Rustica: I encountered some people in trouble, so I'm lending this to them. They said they would return it in full by tomorrow.

Kelvin: Are you stupid?! There's no way they're going to return that! This is what makes you such an easy mark!!

✦✧☾✧✦

Rustica: I've finally found you, my beloved bride…

Kelvin: …sniffle… I can't believe it… You really found her… Congratulations, Lord Rustica! This has really made me believe in the power of love.

Rustica: Thank you, Kelvin.

Western Villager: That nobleman traveled all this way just to find his bride who'd been turned into a bird, I hear.

Western Village Kid: Sis, is that bird a princess?

Western Village Sis: I don't know… I wonder if we'll get to see him turn her back into a human with magic?

Kelvin: Alright, let's put her into that birdcage. She said doing that will lift the curse, right? That witch your family trusts.

Rustica: Yes, she did. Come here, Aria. I'll take you back to the palace. Your family is waiting for you. I'll break the curse that's been placed on you. So please, come into this cage. <Amores Viesse>

Aria: …uh…ah… …Rustica…

Rustica: Aria! I knew I'd see you again.

Aria: …ah…Rus…

Rustica: …Aria…?

Kelvin: …Something's wrong… Lord Rustica…

Western Villager: Look! The princess just turned into a monster…! Oh, goddess, she's attacking! Everyone, run…!

Western Villager: Kyaaaa…!

Western Villager: Wahhhh…!

Rustica: Aria! It's me, Aria…!

Western Village Kid: Kya…! It hurts… Sis, help me… Sis…!

Rustica: Ah… …! <A…> <Amores Viesse>!

✦✧☾✧✦

Rustica: …

I blinked slowly. It felt like I'd been dreaming for a long time. I couldn't tell when it had begun. Perhaps the dream I'd seen had been not a dream, but a memory… My eyelids felt heavy, so I let them close again. My head felt stuffed full of cotton, like a teddy bear's body. It was fluffy and soft, yes, but also heavy with water, soaked all the way through. There were white feathers dancing through the air. I wonder where the bird they were from was? I hadn't been able to catch sight of it even once. It felt as if I were witnessing the sand in an hourglass, individual moments of time slipping through my fingers. But it was very beautiful.

✦✧☾✧✦

Gilles: I will be going to her Majesty's bedchambers. I don't need an escort for that.

Soldier: Huh?

Gilles: What?

Soldier: Ah, no, never mind… As you wish, sir. Please excuse me.

Gilles: Be seeing you. … Oh, I see. She's an unwed girl right now. If I visit her bedchambers too thoughtlessly, unpleasant rumours will propagate, I suppose. Things were much more convenient before. Though Mistress Zara was uncomfortable with those circumstances…

✦✧☾✧✦

Gilles: Pardon the intrusion.

Portrait Rustica: Hello, Gilles.

Portrait Rustica: Good evening, Gilles.

Portrait Rustica: It's been a while. Have you been well?

Gilles: I've been busy. I met your real version, by the way. Where's Mistress Zara?

Portrait Rustica: She's laying down at the moment.

Portrait Rustica: She just returned from an outing of her own, but she seemed tired.

Portrait Rustica: I comforted her as best I could.

Gilles: I'm not surprised. She ascended the throne in front of a crowd of dignitaries from all around the continent. She's been conducting audience after audience. Even though up until now, she's been seeing people in that hidden room of hers in the palace. Though I've heard even his Majesty, may he rest in peace, barely spoke with her anymore. All she had for conversation were the lot of you.

Portrait Rustica: And you, Gilles.

Portrait Rustica: Zara enjoys talking to you, you know.

Portrait Rustica: But you can be a bit too harsh with her sometimes, so you should try to be more gentle with her.

Gilles: I will, I will. Hmm, so she's laying down… I imagine she wants to be alone. I've got a book I want to start in on, so perhaps I'll simply leave for the night.

Portrait Rustica: You should comfort her.

Portrait Rustica: Comforting her would be a better idea.

Portrait Rustica: You should comfort her gently.

Gilles: … Mistress Zara. It's Gilles. How are you feeling this evening? Did you get to talk with your sweetheart?

Zara: …I did.

Gilles: Oh, that's good to hear. And what did you talk about?

Zara: … …We didn't talk about anything. Nothing brought the conversation forward. It ended as soon as it started.

Gilles: And yet, you're the one protecting the peaceful passing of his days while keeping yourself to the shadows. You ensure that banks will always provide money for him to live comfortably, make sure he has a steady supply of people who want his experience as a musician, and should he come close to discovering your secret… You silence the people who would've leaked it to him.

Zara: …

Gilles: As if he's a single piece upon a game board, and you're the player who determines where he moves. Western Country's true Queen, Mistress Zara. The love story you pen is a truly fascinating one.

Zara: It's not "love".

Gilles: Even if it isn't, the fascination remains.

Portrait Rustica: It's Zara's atonement.

Portrait Rustica: Zara is a kind person, you know.

Portrait Rustica: Protecting me and developing this country is how she atones for what she's done to Aria.

Gilles: Call it whatever you want. After however many centuries of merely watching him, your story is finally getting more pages written. Please, let me listen to the end. Your melancholy, pitiful, ruthless, reticent story…

Portrait Rustica: That's too much.

Portrait Rustica: You're going too far.

Portrait Rustica: I think that's a bit much.

Zara: You have gone too far.

Gilles: My apologies. Your noble, daring, insatiable love story.

Zara: …

Portrait Rustica: You should talk to me instead.

Portrait Rustica: If I were to call it anything…

Portrait Rustica: I would call it a most wonderful time.

Gilles: Oho.

Portrait Rustica: Zara's resolution has been strengthened.

Portrait Rustica: So that she may protect me.

Portrait Rustica: She's collecting all the mana stones the world has to offer.

Gilles: All to destroy <the Great Calamity>.

Zara: … I never expected Lord Rustica to be chosen as a Sage's wizard… Or that he'd have that ancient, sinister crest of a black lily engraved upon his skin… I refuse to allow it. In the previous conflict, half of the Sage's wizards turned to stone. Even though they had the world's strongest wizard Oz with them, they still couldn't defeat <the Great Calamity>.

Portrait Rustica: I imagine I'll be the next one to turn to stone.

Portrait Rustica: Goodbye, Zara.

Portrait Rustica: I'll be returning to Aria's side first.

Zara: I won't let that happen. I'll protect you no matter what. And what will protect Lord Rustica from disaster? Tell him, Gilles.

Gilles: The Final Weapon, Ultima.

Zara: Correct. According to the theory, Ultima should fire with a force equivalent to the quality of the mana stones powering it. We must turn wizards to stone. And prepare their stones for Ultima…

Gilles: We must kill the Northern wizards.

Zara: And prepare their stones for Ultima…

Gilles: We must kill Oz.

Zara: And prepare his stone for Ultima… And destroy <the Great Calamity>. I cannot let the Sage's wizards, much less the ones from Central Country, make decisions on Lord Rustica's behalf. I will crush the Northern wizards, I will crush Oz, and I will crush <the Great Calamity>, all so that I can keep him safe.

Gilles: Exquisite. I applaud you.

Portrait Rustica: It's so reassuring to hear you say that, Zara.

Portrait Rustica: Thank you. It sounds absolutely lovely.

Portrait Rustica: I'm sure you'll be able to do it.

Zara: …This is my atonement. Aria would agree with me.

Gilles: I'm eagerly anticipating watching this story's progression. When should we expect the ever-essential Ultima to be completed? The Professor has provided us with a prototype, but isn't the real one already finished?

Zara: Why do you think that?

Gilles: Because I can't trust those two. Nova and Professor Hart. I especially can't get a good grasp of Nova.

Portrait Rustica: I've been feeling the same way, actually.

Portrait Rustica: But Nova is the one who told Zara that I'd been chosen as a Sage's wizard, wasn't he?

Portrait Rustica: But the researcher from Langrenus Island that Nova introduced us to has gone missing.

Zara: Hmm. If it comes to it, we'll part ways with him. Artificial wizards, military airships, and the Final Weapon, Ultima… Once we have them all at hand, we needn't continue to associate with undesirables.

Gilles: Of course.

✦✧☾✧✦

Western Villager: The goats and chickens are all acting up… What's up, guys? Why're you making a fuss in the middle of the night? Is there a wolf? Or an intruder? …Wha…?! The grass and trees over here are all withered! Just earlier today they were photosynthesizing happily… What…? So much of my livestock has fallen over ill…! What's going on here?! Heeeey! Anyone! It's an emergency! Can anyone come over here…! Yeah, here. Sorry for yelling in the middle of the night like that. C'mon, look at this. … …What happened? Who are you? …A dog…? No… Oh, no… …ah…ahh…what's going on? I'm so dizzy all of a sudden… …! What's that…?! …Get away! Stay away from me! Uwaaaahhhh…!

7 - Even If It Changes The World

Cain: A "walking Hell", huh…

Arthur: Cain.

Cain: Your Majesty.

Arthur: Majesty… Ah, right. I asked you to call me that while we're in Messier Palace.

Cain: We wouldn't want them thinking you're so soft you can't even keep your servants in line, after all.

Arthur: If they think I'm naive, they'll try to take advantage of Central Country…or that's what Lord Figaro said, at least.

Cain: Figaro's got useful advice. He said he'd give me another lecture later. I gotta work hard finding what I want to do with myself so I can protect you and Central Country better.

Arthur: I appreciate it. But please don't forget. There are things that no one but you can do, Cain.

Arthur's words reminded me of what I'd done a few days ago. I tried to gain the confidence of the soldiers in a Western officers' club by acting the villain. It's not like I didn't get a good response to it, and it's not like I didn't learn something from it. But the bitterness I'd swallowed down with the alcohol didn't make my heart dance at all. I think I'd wanted to be useful so badly that I'd gotten really ahead of myself. Just like a newbie who'd barely swung a sword before pushing themself until their arms and back are screaming at them, I'd ignored what my heart had been screaming at me. It's an important kind of pain. It's a kind of suffering you have to endure if you want to be worth something. Arthur smiled at me. It felt like his blue eyes had seen straight through to what I was thinking about.

Arthur: You mustn't force your heart to do something that doesn't reflect who you really are. You should live according to your own principles, and as the days pass you by, merit will naturally be born from them.

Cain: Arthur…

Arthur: I believe in you, Cain. And I'm not the only one. Master Sage does, and so do the other Sage's wizards. If you're going to jump, then I will blindly leap into the sky behind you. And I will fall, my arms spread, with no broom or magic to catch me. Do you understand what I'm telling you?

When I couldn't answer, Arthur gently touched my hand. As if he'd given me something, something important, I placed my other hand on top of the first, and lifted them. His eyes, more vivid than the clearest blue sky, sparkled with light.

Arthur: It means I can trust you with my life, Cain. As much as if I'd made a promise to you. It's quite a thing to do. I know that now.

Cain: …

The beauty of Arthur's words made something deep in my chest grow warm, slowly but steadily. Belief in someone is the same as making a promise to them. Those words were like a shock to my system. The world had changed just then. I felt myself relax. I clasped Arthur's hand in both of mine and smiled at him.

Cain: …It really is…

Arthur brushed his fingers against my cheek and smiled brightly. And then he gallantly turned his back to me and walked away. He waved his hand a bit, and then looked back at me.

Arthur: I truly, sincerely wish that everyone in the world could be connected like this. Even if it's not forever. Just for a moment would be enough. But still overcoming nationality, race, age, and gender. And we will be friends.

✦✧☾✧✦

Faust: Lo--……Figaro…

Figaro: You do keep almost addressing me reverently. Are you confusing yourself?

Faust: … You saved my life. The lives of my students, as well. I should kneel in front of you and bow my head and apologize for all of the many times I've been discourteous. But at the same time… I'm also afraid of trusting you. I don't want to be betrayed again.

Figaro: …Yeah, I bet.

Faust: I was thinking about it the entire time I was recovering. About what you were thinking about when you threw me away. And then something clicked into place. Maybe I wasn't the one who was betrayed. Maybe I wasn't meeting what you were expecting of me.

Figaro: You've got a real thing for punishing yourself, don't you. Well, it is true you weren't meeting expectations, but…

Faust: …

Figaro: No, you're not the bad one in this equation. My upbringing and the failure of interpersonal relationships were just all building onto each other back then… I just arbitrarily put too many expectations on your shoulders. Like, "maybe he's here to save me," or something like that…

Faust: I wanted to live up to those expectations.

Figaro: …

Faust: And I got spoiled by you, too. Maybe it's because I never knew my father, but meeting someone who could guide me for the very first time…

Figaro: Ahh, I see… You were abandoned by your father. And I was the second time your father abandoned you. Of course you can't trust me, not when that's who I am to you.

Faust & Figaro: …

Faust: (There's no way an attitude change at this point is going to get his forgiveness…)

Figaro: (…Am I just really bad at making up with people…?) (If I want to regain his confidence, then I need to properly communicate with him. And then ask him to be my disciple again…)

Faust & Figaro: Um…

Figaro: Ah… Please, you go first.

Faust: Ah… Okay. … …This latest battle made me truly aware of how powerless I am. I don't want to lose anyone ever again. So even if it's just until the day we fight <the Great Calamity> again, that's fine. But would you be willing to teach me magic again?

Figaro: Huh…?!

Faust: …I knew it, that's asking too much…

Figaro: No… It's fine, it's totally fine. Are you sure…?

Faust: Will you teach me magic again?

Figaro: Of course I will.

Faust: …Thank you… It's shameful that I can't repay your kindness, Lord Figaro. I'm just being dependent on you…

Figaro: That's not true… I can't figure out how to make the words come out right, but I really am happy right now. Thank you for saying it, Faust… (I feel like I'm dreaming… I can't believe I'd get to be Faust's teacher again…)

Faust: (So he really won't say that he wants me to be his disciple again…) Allow me to express my gratitude, Lord Figaro. To one again have your encouragement and instruction is…

Figaro: Hold on a sec, Faust. Knock it off with the formalities. Just talk to me like you normally do.

Faust: Are you sure?

Figaro: I've got a lot of enemies, after all. It'd be best if people don't know we've got anything to do with each other. I'll expect it during lessons, though.

Faust: I unde… Got it. Good to be with you again.

Figaro: Don't get it twisted. It makes it twice as tasty for me, so it's not a bad thing.

Faust: Is…that right…

Figaro: Good luck on your investigation around Cortes.

✦✧☾✧✦

Snow: My, my! So this is what kind of mechanism you're using here! Western Country is quite fascinating. Is there anywhere else I might take a look?

Sage's Lattice: Oh yes, Lord Snow! Please, come right this way with me.

White: …

Bradley: God damn, Figaro really knows how to treat a guy like a workhorse… What's the issue, White? I hardly ever see you on your own.

White: How apt. We do prefer to be together than to be alone. And yet, just look at Snow now. He's enjoying himself perfectly well without me. Had he not killed me, I'm most certain Snow would have come West in his pursuit of loneliness.

Bradley: Can I say something?

White: Yes.

Bradley: You should be savin' that kind of heavy conversation for Oz or Figaro.

White: You're so cold, Bradley dear…!

Bradley: The two of you are the weird ones here. Northern wizards're supposed to live proudly indepedent lives. No matter who you meet, no matter who you keep by your side, in the end, you still stand alone.

White: Hmmmmph… I wouldn't have expected the man who built an organization around himself to say something like that.

Bradley: I built it for my own benefit, not outta any kind of sentiment. Keepin' someone with you or tryin' to kill 'em is just proof you respect their soul. The essence of who they are.

White: And permitting that essence of who they are to change is part of that?

Bradley: It doesn't change, man. Someone's nature ain't that malleable. It just means there was more to 'em than you realized. That's what it means to have two different lives.

White: I don't want to hear about that sort of thing.

Bradley: Don't freakin' pout at me about it. You're gonna go from a regular ghost to a vengeful one.

White: I've already been one for ages now.

Bradley: Hey! Don't just up and vanish on me! Jeez… … …I get it, Eva. I'm not making a mistake.

✦✧☾✧✦

Child: Hey, hey! Heeeey, mister!

Isaac: …

Child: I said, hey!

Mother: Oh, don't pester him… I'm so sorry. And when you're helping us carry our things, too…

Isaac: …It's fine…

Mother: We were in such a pinch when our wagon's axle broke. I really can't thank you enough for offering to help us.

Child: Ahaha! Mom's acting all humble because this guy's soooo cool!

Mother: Dear! Don't say things like that! …I'm so sorry…

Isaac: …It's fine…

Mother: But, it really is true… I was startled by how handsome you are. Are you a traveling performer, maybe? Or an actor?

Isaac: … …All I did was wash my hair and body…and get new clothes. …I cut my hair and my nails…

Mother: Well, that's still upright of you. My son and husband hate cutting their nails for some reason.

Child: Hey, hey! Tell me your name, mister! Where are you from? What's your family like? Is everyone in your family huge too? What should I eat to get as big as you?

Isaac: …You shouldn't follow me…

Child: Whaaaat? C'mon, let's talk about stuff! What's the strongest thing you've met so far? What's the tastiest thing you ever ate? Hey, hey, why won't you tell me? Man. You're soooo mean, mister.

Isaac: …

Mother: Dear, you can't treat him like that. Apologize for being rude to him.

Child: But…

Mother: You love to talk to people, but not everyone you meet is going to love it too. For example, our companion here is very strong, but if we were to ask you to lift the same things he can, you wouldn't be able to, right? He could have thrown our broken wagon aside and shoved past us, but he chose not to do that. He's not being mean at all. In fact, he's treating you plenty nice. He's a very generous and upstanding person.

Child: …Okay…

Mother: Traveler, let me apologize to you in place of my son. Thank you from the bottom of my heart…

Isaac: …

Child: I'm sorry, mister… I… Um, I just wanted to talk to you more… I just felt a little lonely since you didn't reply. Thank you for carrying our things for us.

Isaac: … …Isaac.

Child: Huh…?

Isaac: My name. …Isaac.

Child: Mister Isaac!

Isaac: …Actually, I also… …Wanted to talk with people…who noticed what I was doing… …Even just a little bit… …Please, let me…

8 - Days Threaded With Merit

Figaro: All righty, Master Sage. Things are basically settled here, so we can talk now.

Akira: Basically settled?

Murr: Lord Figaro and I have been discussing our plans from this point forward since last night.

Figaro: That's a very pretty way of saying you left me to make all the big decisions.

Murr: It was a very stimulating night. By which I mean I narrowly escaped with my life.

Akira: I, um, I'd prefer it if you got along with one another.

Figaro: Shylock and Murr are already on their way to the City of Nectar. If they're trying to keep those two out of things around here, then with the two of them gone, they might start getting careless. And even if there's a trap waiting for the two of them, I have full confidence in their ability to survive it.

Murr: I'm honored.

Figaro: We've had the Eastern wizards leave the Western manor for the time being. We got a report of an incident near Cortes, so we told them to investigate it.

Murr: Easterners are very serious-minded, so they're not well-suited for political scheming and conspiracies. If we left them here, they'd just get used by our opponents.

Figaro: We sent Bradley to the Western military headquarters to put pressure on the head of the Magical Technology Corps. Western Country responds better to passion and raw emotions than things like "pride" or "loyalty". Which means the army is better strengthened by good, energetic morale. Without that morale, they're not as coordinated and start getting sloppy.

Akira: (Western Country is scary, but at the same time they're a very straightforwardly lively country…)

Figaro: On that subject, even though morale is pretty low in the East they do put effort into keeping themselves serious about what they're doing, and Central actively works to keep morale up. The South isn't especially eager to participate in conflict, and the North is the complete opposite. But because of that, they're very easy to fool with Murr's magic specialty.

Akira: Murr's specialty?

Murr: Provocation.

Akira: Oh…

Figaro: You stirred them up several times last night, didn't you?

Murr: Oh, no. I didn't use magic at all yesterday. Perhaps you're getting on in years, Lord Figaro?

Figaro: What was that?

Murr: One's patience tends to wane as they age, and all that.

Figaro: Y'know…

Murr: Oh my, it seems we've gotten off track. As Lord Figaro just explained, Western Country's soldiers get emboldened when morale is high. In this regard, General Barnett is an ideal commander. He's excellent at emboldening the soldiers' spirits.

Figaro: Should someone like that weaken, his troops will weaken, too. Bradley's the number one choice for showing who's on top here. He's got the charismatic commander thing down pat.

✦✧☾✧✦

Bradley: Yo.

Gilles: …You are…

Bradley: A Northern wizard. The one famous for being the King of Bandits, the one and only Bradley Bain. And you're the Western general, ain'tcha? You ain't stupid enough to underestimate me, yeah? So let's try to get along, brother.

Gilles: … I'd rather not, personally…

Bradley: You think you get to turn me down? I don't mind cleaning out this treasure trove you've dropped me into, y'know. So? What'cha gonna do?

Gilles: …I'll welcome the opportunity, I suppose. I have read your autobiography…

Bradley: I ain't the one who wrote that.

Gilles: My goodness…

Bradley: If y'wanna ask me somethin', just ask and I'll tell ya. But first things first, how about tellin' me which bar the West's best alcohol gets poured at?

✦✧☾✧✦

Figaro: If he overdoes it there's sure to be some backlash, but Bradley's very good at adjusting himself. Even if he gets too into things, in the end, he's still a prisoner. We're the ones holding the reins.

Akira: (Bradley's amazing for being able to match that general…)

Figaro: As for you, Master Sage, you're worried about the Sage's Lattice, aren't you?

Akira: Yes… It feels like something bad might happen to them once I return to Central…

Figaro: It does, doesn't it. So why not turn them into real, proper allies? At the moment they're being threatened into serving here to keep the Sage tied down, but… If we could adjust things so that they're fully on the Sage's side, then her Majesty would have so generously given us a fifty-man troop as a present. Not to mention how each and every one of them is tremendously skilled in their area of expertise.

Akira: But, how would we…

Figaro: We just have to undo the deception. It'll completely nullify the spell their conductor's got them under. If they align themselves against Western Country against the Queen's wishes while she's trying to boost her popularity with the people, the people will blame them and not her. And you're worried about that happening, right?

Akira: Yes… I don't want to trouble them or our allies in Central Country…

Figaro: I know you don't. But in point of fact, there's no reason whatsoever to blame them. It's nothing more than a psychological effect. The Western people have a lot of expectations of their freshly-crowned Queen. Given those high expectations, they'll think anyone who brings shame to their young Queen is the enemy. But their new Queen has no real substance to what she says just yet. She's got no experience, no proof of actual results. There's just the hope that something will be done for them, that something wonderful will happen.

Akira: …Now that you mention it, I think you're right… I've even heard people say she was just taking it easy in Cortes until now…

Figaro: Exactly. And on the other hand, you have real merit behind what you say, Master Sage. You've settled all sorts of incidents all over the world. You've got the concrete results she lacks. Not to mention that all of the Sage's wizards, including the Northern wizards, are willing to obey you, even coming all this way with you. That's merit the people can trust. They can put their faith in the way that you've lived in the days that came before today.

Something about that felt really…incredible. I'd come from another world. I didn't know a single person here in this one. But despite the mystery of who I was, I still had some quality that made people trust in me regardless. The irreplaceably precious days I'd spent with them here were what made up my reputation. It felt miraculous.

Figaro: And so… Wah, Master Sage. Why are you crying?

Murr: My goodness, Figaro… You should be more clever than that. Please take my handkerchief, Master Sage.

Akira: …I'm sorry… I'm being such a crybaby lately…

Murr: Your tears fall because you view us through the lens of your open heart. There is no higher honor.

Murr handed off his handkerchief to me, and then took my hand in his, pressing his lips to my fingers. I smiled, still on the edge of tears. Murr beamed back, and then turned to look at Figaro.

Murr: I didn't use even a whit of my specialty, just so you know.

Figaro: I know you didn't.

Figaro nodded his head, though his face looked somewhat pained.

Figaro: Master Sage. I want to say once again that you are worth having faith in. But the Western people don't necessarily have that in their heads. So you should let them know it, as courteously as you can. What you mustn't do at times like this one is embarrass your target. Isn't that right, Murr?

Murr: Precisely so. Once one experiences heartbreak and humiliation, they'll stubbornly reject whatever it was that made them experience it in the first place. Unnecessary offense or insult needn't be part of mutual understanding. I don't mean this in a moralistic right-or-wrong sort of way, but in regards to how to efficiently adjust herd mentality. Figaro. If I were to say to you "You don't even know that?", what would you do?

Figaro: I'd think it's a tragedy someone as clever as you couldn't think of something more intelligent to say.

Murr: See? No motivation whatsoever to understand. And it's impossible to know how long it'll take for him to become positive about these things again once he's gotten all sulky about it. My goal is not to disgrace him, nor is it to turn him to stone. I want to understand him. And so I must properly and politely explain myself to him, keeping who he is and how he thinks in high regard.

Murr bowed politely to Figaro. Figaro just shrugged, smiling.

Murr: The people of this country expect much of their young Queen. They picture her bringing about a beautiful tomorrow, their hearts dancing in their chests. And when that time comes… What will she have done? Heavy crown upon her brow, she must have done more than simply sit in her big fancy chair. And her advertising fees mustn't go unpaid. She needs to pay the price for making our dear Sage a political signboard without permission. …well, being honest will only make things more complicated. You will be mired in a swamp of obligations.

Akira: That's true, isn't it… But… Then, what do we do…?

Murr: Why, it's simple. As we've been mentioning, the Queen is the star of the hour. You simply to need to match her.

Akira: Huh…? I do?!

Murr: Oh, yes. You will be Murr Hart Productions' newest star…

Figaro: With supervising director, Figaro Garcia.

Murr: We will turn you into a sensation. The process will be simple. First, you must praise the new Queen as generously as you can. The Western people are already enamored with their queen. Seeing another powerful figure praising her will make them adore you as well, Sage. And when the masses have their interest caught by the Sage, your reliability and achievements will become common knowledge. And when popularity and goodwill are equally split between you and and the Queen, that's when you will make a dignified but gentle proclamation. "Must I stay in a place like this?"

Figaro: "Thank you for letting us impose on you for so long. Please take care, everyone." That kind of thing.

I needed to become as popular as the Queen herself…

Akira: C…can I really become someone that impressive? I don't feel like I'm capable of it, personally…

Murr: Of course you can. Don't worry your pretty little head, my dearest Sage.

Figaro: Don't worry. Be confident in yourself. You're super cute, and you've got a great personality.

Akira: That's not what you usually tell me…

Murr: You don't, Figaro? Whyever not?

Figaro: I do tell you that! I say all sorts of wonderful things about you!

Murr: Master Sage. Your accomplishments form the trust people have in you. I did say that, but… It's also a reflection of your beauty. For example, your gentle smile, the kindness and care you extend to all those around you… The many challenges you've overcome, your steady and resolute nature, your inner strength, your dazzling eyes. The aura around you is colored by the sparkling emotions that have passed through your heart… And it is more beautiful than the most precious of gemstones.

Figaro: I agree with all of that, but… If I were going to say it, I wouldn't be so stuck up about it. The air around you is different from when you'd first arrived in this world. It's bright, it's brave, it's kind… And it's got melancholy and resolve in it, too. It's beautiful.

Murr: Now, Master Akira. Let us present you to the world.

✦✧☾✧✦

Faust: Nero.

Nero: Teach. Are y' all healed up?

Faust: I'm fine now. Have you heard about how we'll be leaving for Cortes soon?

Nero: Yep. The Sage apologized for askin' me to do somethin' while I'm still recovering, but I'd rather be up and movin' anyways. Otherwise I feel like I'd get caught up in some royal court conspiracy bullshit.

Faust: That's how I feel, too. I'm no good at political posturing, myself. Nero, I want to be upfront with you. The relationship I have with you is a comfortable one. The time I spend with you is the ideal way for my heart to mend when I'm tired of dealing with other people.

Nero: …Wh-what's all this all of a sudden… Haha… Y'plannin' on breakin' up with me?

Faust: Why would I do that? I'm complimenting you.

Nero: …Just, y'know, a feeling…

Faust: No… Maybe that's what you'll be saying to me in just a little bit.

Nero: Huh… I don' think I'd say that to you, but now I'm gettin' nervous…

Faust: Me, too…

Faust & Nero: …

Faust: Nero. We're going to be talking about something that isn't going to be fun for either of us.

Nero: Okay.

Faust: Without getting too deep into it, the relationship I've had with you has been a very comforting one. Being with you lets me forget how much of a pain I can be.

Nero: It's been the same for me, Faust.

Faust: …But. I've been reflecting on the battle we had a few days ago. If we want to be a team that can fight life-or-death battles like that… I think we should have a better understanding of one another's skills and pasts.

Nero: …Pasts, huh… Yeah… You're right.

Faust: …

Nero: I gotcha. I'll talk. I don't wanna keep lettin' myself feel hurt when I think about those guys.

Faust: …Alright.

Nero: But, for real, y'might wanna actually break up with me after this. I'm…fine with it, but what about you…?

Faust: …Nero…

Nero: Teach, what we've had up til now…might be completely different from now on. Like we're standin' on other sides of a thick line drawn in the sand. If you're good with that, so am I. Let's go.

Faust: Thank you. Nero, I want you to tell me what kinds of locations you have experience fighting in, what monsters you've fought, and what tactics you've used in the past. If possible, I'd also like a list of all the forms of magic you can use, as well your personal strengths and weaknesses, and likes and dislikes.

Nero: Hmuh? By my past, you meant, like…a battle resume kind of thing?

Faust: That's right.

Nero: What the hell! Say that first next time!

Faust: But someone suspicious finding out about the full extent of your magical capabilities could put your life in danger.

Nero: Who's suspicious? I've never doubted you or Heath or Shino.

Faust: Nero…

Nero: (That was close… If the conversation kept bein' heavy like that, I really would've started talkin' about other things…)

Faust: (Whew… Nero's such a goodhearted person…)

Nero: (Teach's super straitlaced, so he'd definitely never let it slide if he found out I used to be a bandit…)

Faust: Well then, let's conduct flawless preparations for heading to Cortes while exchanging information. <Salliuqnart Mulcredo>

Nero: Teach… Are you really gonna carry all that luggage with you?

Faust: Yes. I've recently realized that the more curseworking tools I have available to me at a moment's notice, the better.

Nero: (The battle before kinda traumatized him, huh…)

Shino: Faust, Nero. We're ready to go.

Heathcliff: That's a lot of luggage, isn't it?

Faust: Good timing, you two. Could all of you stand in a row here for a moment?

Heathcliff: M--Mr. Faust. You already applied sanctuary blossom pollen to both of us earlier.

Faust: I'm aware. It's better to cover all of our bases.

Shino: He's right, Heath. We don't need to worry if we're properly prepared. Last night I reviewed all the magic I thought we might need on this mission. I'm basically good there.

Heathcliff: That's really impressive?!

Nero: That's way too impressive?!

Faust: Alright, perfect.

Shino: Heh.

Nero: (Shino's kinda traumatized, too…) Well… I guess if you guys're doin' all this, we'll feel way more secure from now on.

Shino: Hey. Nero, you do it too. You almost died!

Faust: I'm going to dust you with shielding ash now.

Heathcliff: Oh, you have warding salt, too.

Nero: Waugh! Achoo…! …Tha--sniff, thanks!

9 - If the Truth Would Bring Sorrow

Arthur: Excuse me. … Lord Oz…isn't here… I was certain I felt his presence… …I wonder where he went…

✦✧☾✧✦

Oz: … Figaro, is it.

Figaro: What's wrong? Why are you on the roof? Also, I brought them along, but why are the twins in their painting…? I was thinking it was strange that they were in their painting during the day, but apparently you were the one who did it?

Oz: The painting is wet.

Figaro: They kept arguing with each other even in the painting, so I put them in the fountain for a while. I think they're unconscious. They both got nice and properly suffocated. Or maybe they thought they should've been, so they are, like a placebo effect.

Oz: Why…

Figaro: Why were they fighting? No idea. I should be asking you why you decided to trap them in their painting.

Oz: Because they started fighting.

Figaro: …

Oz: I did not desire to listen to them.

Figaro: Man, this sucks. I did the same thing you did. Anyways, way more importantly, wanna hear about my disciple? You do? You do?

Oz: … You have no disciple.

Figaro: Fufufu. I tooootally do. You should go and treasure your own disciple more, you know. I heard you're avoiding Arthur? Aww, you're just making the both of you so sad and lonely.

Oz: …Arthur is not my disciple.

Figaro: He should be. Hey, wanna hear about my disciple? Maybe it'll put you in the mood for one of your own.

Oz: That is unnecessary.

Figaro: Whaaaat? Why's that?

Oz: You were the one who said you didn't wish to speak of disciples. You also said it had been a very long time since you felt such inclinations.

Figaro: Whaaaat? Did I reeeaaally say that?

Painting Snow: …ugh, cough cough…!

Painting White: Cough cough…!

Painting Snow & White: I thought we were going to droooown!

Figaro: Yeah, you only thought you were.

Painting Snow: Figaro, you are a terrible child! Oh my, if it isn't Oz.

Painting White: Oz is another terrible child! Why are you climbing on the roof?

Oz: Stay quiet for now.

Painting Snow & White: Wahhhh, we got turned over…!

Oz: Figaro, I have something I wish to ask you.

Figaro: Sure, shoot.

Oz: How much have you told Faust?

Figaro: How much of what?

Oz: Of your crimes.

Figaro: …How about we talk about literally anything else…

Oz: Have you not told him?

Figaro: You mean what I did with you? Pretty sure he knows even if I don't say anything. And Faust is an adult, so…

Oz: How did he learn of it?

Figaro: What do you mean, "how"… You know, Oz, I'd rather we talk about something more fun than this, okay?

Oz: … Would you accept me telling Faust about what you have done?

Figaro: Absolutely not? Okay, I need you to take a good look at me. My disciple came back, so every little bit of me is happy. Oh, I get it… Arthur asked you directly about the old days, didn't he.

Oz: …He has not yet asked. However, I imagine he will ask me very soon.

Figaro: Are you going to tell him the truth?

Oz: … He said that it would make him sad. To find that the dreadful stories about me are true. Long ago, you told me that I must not make children sad.

Figaro: I sure did.

Oz: What if telling the truth makes a child sad?

Figaro: Even if it makes him sad, Arthur will still want the truth. That's the kind of kid he is.

Oz: … White.

Painting White: Oh, he turned us back up.

Painting Snow: We've just been staring at the withered leaves here on the roof.

Oz: For the two of you, the truth is something that led Snow to want to forsake White.

Figaro: Hey, don't make them start fighting again…

Oz: Did you want to hear that truth, White?

Painting White: To be honest, I do not know.

Painting Snow: …

Painting White: Thought at times I have wished things had simply ended without my knowing it… I have also been grateful it didn't end with me never knowing.

Painting Snow: Dearest Oz. You should simply tell Arthur to wait a bit longer. You'll tell him one day. But for now, he should be patient. It is a tale too harsh for children's ears.

Figaro: That's definitely true.

Oz: …

Painting White: Hohoho. It must be difficult for you, Oz. We were quite cruel to you when you were young. We, too, hold responsibility for your setting fire to the world.

Oz: Then, why… Why did we not begin by burning you?

Painting Snow: Hohoho. It is because we have both blessed and cursed you.

Painting White: It is because you would have felt lonely without us. It is because we love you very, very much. In our own ways.

Figaro: What a terrible conversation this is, truly.

Oz: …

✦✧☾✧✦

I was drifting about aimlessly through the Western manor's gardens, Saku-chan nestled on my shoulder. I was looking for Gregory. I found a bunch of birds resting in the shade of a tree and called to him softly, my voice low.

Akira: Gregory… Is Gregory here?

And then a voice just as quiet as mine responded, calling my name.

Gregory: Master Sage, Master Sage.

It was Gregory's voice. I turned my head and there Gregory was, fluttering in the air.

Gregory: My sincerest apologies. I swore to be your escort to repay you for what you did for me, but my place is always to remain outside…

Akira: It's just fine. I have all of the Sage's wizards here, plus Saku-chan, too.

Gregory: I've also found myself quite indebted to the Southern wizards.

Akira: The Southern wizards?

Gregory: Yes. Please follow me. I want you to see this too, Master Sage.

Gregory led the way into the heart of the gardens, and I followed. Tucked between the roots of a big tree whose branches were decorated with small red fruit were Lennox and Mitile.

Mitile: Master Sage!

Akira: Mitile, Lennox. Lennox, are your wounds okay now?

Lennox: Yes, thanks to you.

Mitile: Um, we made friends with Gregory, so we made him a birdhouse with magic. We wanted to make him a place where he could listen in on people in the palace while staying out of sight, so a birdhouse like this should be just perfect for him.

Akira: A birdhouse… You made it just for him?

Gregory: How rude. I have a place to sleep with a roof over my head now.

Akira: Y-you're right. I'm sorry.

Gregory: There's a bird that's a bit bad at being a bird around, you see. It seems it has no place to call home, so I tried to help it build a nest, but it doesn't seem to be able to relax there… Look, it's there in the window of the castle. It's hiding and keeping an eye on us. It seems to be incredibly timid.

Lennox: I wonder if it got attacked by an animal. It doesn't seem to be able to eat calmly either, and it's lost a lot of weight.

Mitile: So we made it a birdhouse so it can eat in peace!

Gregory: Thank you. You Southern wizards are truly as generous as the rumors say.

Mitile: Ehehe, I'm glad we could help. We already set up the house, so let's put a little bit of distance between it and us. It'll probably be easier for it to approach if there's no one around.

Lennox: Good idea. Let's go back to our lodgings. What will you do now, Master Sage?

Akira: There's something I want to talk to Gregory about. Gregory, would you be okay with coming to my room?

Gregory: Yes, of course…

Gregory fell silent. There were other people coming close. He was almost killed by the new Queen once. I didn't want to risk anything else happening to him if he was discovered. It was important that he act like a regular bird sometimes. The people we encountered were gardeners tending to the palace gardens. They were gossiping about us interlopers in the Western manor.

Gardener: That Sage was honestly one handsome chap. His long white hair, especially…

Akira: (I wonder who they're talking about…)

Gardener: I saw one of the Northern wizards! He was carrying a long staff, and he had some real intensity. It was amazing.

Akira: (That person's part of Central now…)

Gardener: I saw the Southern wizards. They all seemed to be good, upright people.

Gardener: They really do, don't they! But they weren't much different from regular garden-variety rural humans. If all we're gonna do is get to glimpse them, I'd rather see the Northern wizards than the Southern ones. It'd give me something to talk about.

Gardener: Right, right.

Mitile: …

Gregory: How rude they were! Why, I'll go set them straight at once!

Lennox: No, no, definitely not! The fact that you're here even as a bird is a secret.

Gregory: I know that, but… …I'm so sorry, everyone. Western humans love attention. They're not so good at seeing the value in simpler, more quiet things, so they tend to prefer the big, loud, showy stuff…

Lennox: It's fine. They weren't wrong. But I'm still happy that you got upset on our behalf. Isn't that right, Mitile?

Mitile: Ah… Yes! That's right.

Gregory: Please don't mind them. The birdhouses you made were first-rate. I am truly grateful from the bottom of my heart.

Mitile: Don't worry, I wasn't gonna let it get to me! Let's go, Leno.

Lennox: Yeah…

Akira: Thank you for the birdhouses, you two!

Lennox: Of course.

Mitile: You're very welcome.

✦✧☾✧✦

Gregory: What did you want to talk about, Master Sage?

Akira: About Liliana. You said that the current Queen tried to kill you, right?

Gregory: Yes, she did… I can only make assumptions at this point in time, but the Queen is not Liliana.

Akira: So it's not that someone is controlling her, but that it's not her at all?

Gregory: It couldn't possibly be her. I admit my evidence is somewhat lacking, but… Liliana has a habit of playing with the hair at the base of her neck.

Akira: She does…?

Gregory: Like this, twisting it around her finger… But she also had difficulty pinning her hair up. I once saw her trying to massage it into place and covering it with hair oil.

Akira: Even princesses have it rough, huh…

Gregory: But I overheard her attendants talking about how the Queen no longer has that habit. I believe that, using magic or something else, someone has replaced Liliana.

Akira: How terrible… (But when I talked to them earlier, Oz and the others said something completely different…)

✦✧☾✧✦

Akira: Oz, Mithra, what did you think during the coronation?

Chloe: About the idea that the witch manipulating Western Country has turned herself into Princess Liliana…

Akira: Is the new Queen a wizard?

Oz: … No. I felt no presence of magic in her.

Mithra: I also felt nothing of the sort.

Akira: What about from the scepter? They say the scepter is what's cursing Western Country.

Mithra: You're asking if there was the presence of a curse? Not at all. Though it was positively dripping with human obsession and the presence of Western spirits. About as much as one could reasonably expect from something that old. Isn't that right, Oz.

Oz: Yes. However, I did feel the presence of magic in the tall blond man.

Akira: General Barnett?

Oz: Yes.

Mithra: Of course you did. He's a wizard, isn't he?

Akira: No, he isn't… He's the human head of the Magical Technology Corps. …Or, is he a wizard?

Mithra: He must be. Although I suppose he felt closer to a mana stone than a living wizard.

Akira: Shylock said the same thing…

Mithra: Regardless, the point is that Liliana is a human.

Chloe: Are you sure?

Mithra: Of course. I don't make mistakes.

Chloe: Then, can you feel the presence of any other wizards? Like around the palace, or maybe lurking around the tower…

Oz & Mithra: …

Oz: …I sense nothing…

Mithra: There's nothing to sense, no…

✦✧☾✧✦

Akira: (Then… I wonder where she is.) (The witch controlling Western Country from the shadows, Zara…) It's hard to imagine both Oz and Mithra misreading the presence of magic…

Gregory: I see… Then I think I'd like to focus on continuous surveillance of the Queen from the sidelines for now.

Akira: Of course. Thank you very much. Is it okay if I ask one more thing?

Gregory: Yes, of course.

Akira: I'd like for you to tell me more about Liliana.

Gregory: About Liliana…?

Akira: Yes. So that when we leave the Western manor, we can do it in a way that won't upset the Western people… I've been told I should praise the new Queen as highly as I can.

Gregory: I see… So it's not about Liliana herself, but so that you may return to your home in Central, Master Sage.

Akira: But I do also want to make sure that everything concerning you is properly sorted out, too… That's what I've been thinking I want to do.

Gregory: Thank you very much.

Akira: I don't have any objections to this plan of commending the Queen, but… I don't know anything about Liliana herself, so I want to know more about who she is as a person. If I don't know that, then I'll just be praising her looks and nothing else… And I just can't help but feel that that's uncomfortably superficial. When your Liliana has safely and securely become Queen and is ruling over this country… If I were to say anything careless, that would just cause more problems for you down the line. So I want to know all of the parts of Liliana that you fell in love with… And even if it's not just her good parts. I want to know all of her. Would you be willing to tell me about her?

Gregory: …Master Sage… Thank you so much. I'm so happy to hear that. The Liliana showered with applause at the coronation ceremony is not Liliana. It felt as though the world had forgotten her, instead singing praises for someone who merely looks like her… So I am so very, very happy to hear that you want to remember Liliana as she truly is. Even when things are being so stressful for you, Master Sage…

Akira: So, are you okay with telling me about her, Gregory?

Gregory: Of course. I'd be happy to. I'll talk until dawn breaks if you'll let me.

✦✧☾✧✦

Chloe: …I can see feathers near the window… Rustica…

Owen: Your teacher's turned into something fun.

Chloe: Owen…

Owen: Who did it to him? You should tell me. Was it the general that smells like mana stones? Or her red-haired Majesty? Well, not that I care either way. You should take revenge. Why not use that magic of yours to put people in states of apparent death and humiliate and slaughter them all?

Chloe: …I'm not doing that. Although I will probably try to get payback somehow. But I don't want to do anything that I wouldn't want to tell Rustica about.

Owen: Hmph. Hypocrite.

Chloe: No, I don't think I'm a good kid, pretending to be one or otherwise. I've never thought of myself like that. What about you, Owen? Why are you still here instead of leaving?

Owen: Should I have?

Chloe: No, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry if I worded it weirdly. I was just thinking that I hadn't seen you around for a while. But…now you're here.

Owen: I'm just here to harass people. They'll get so nervous trying to figure out what terrible thing I'm going to do here that they won't be able to sleep. Maybe I'll kill her Majesty and all of those people swarming Master Sage. Killing humans is pretty boring, though.

Chloe: …So the Queen really is a human?

Owen: Is she a wizard? If she's a wizard, then she'll turn to stone if I kill her. Should we find out?

Chloe: … Gasp… I almost got sucked in. No, that's bad, we're not doing that.

Owen: Fufu. I like that part of you.

Chloe: If someone was reeeaaally good at hiding things, do you think they'd be able to hide their magic from Lord Oz?

Owen: Probably. We Northern wizards have strong magic, but we're not always good at sensing anything other than hostility. Wouldn't you Western wizards who love change and ferreting out details be better at that?

Chloe: That's what I thought, too. If Rustica was feeling better, I'd ask him, but… I wish Murr and Shylock were here…

Owen: Why aren't they?

Chloe: They were asked by the palace to go on a mission, so they're at the City of Nectar. I stayed behind because I'm worried about Rustica.

Owen: Hmmmm.

Chloe: … …So, if someone was hiding their magic, if they weren't being hostile, a Northern wizard wouldn't be able to notice them at all?

Owen: Hah? We would notice.

Chloe: Wh…which is it?

Owen: We would notice. We never let our prey get away from us.

Chloe: I see…

Owen: But, maybe, in the million to one chance that what we were chasing was a Western wizard who's good at changing themself… We might not notice…?

Chloe: …

Owen: But I would still notice. Oz and Mithra have no idea.

Chloe: Could you come with me?

Owen: Huh? No way.

Chloe: Please!

Owen: I said no!

✦✧☾✧✦

Owen: …Why am I here…

Chloe: If I'm right, the Queen should be walking through this hall pretty soon. I thought you'd be able to spy on her. And then tell me if she's really a human or if she's a wizard.

Owen: Ask Murr or Shylock. If they didn't notice, that'd mean she's a human.

Chloe: But… She's here!

Liliana: …

Chloe: …Well?

Owen: …I can't tell. It's not about if she's a human or a witch… The smell of mana stones on that guy with her is too strong.

Chloe: Shylock said that, too… That he smells like used-up mana stones. When we almost ran into her a while ago, the general was with the Queen then, too. So that might've been why Murr and Shylock didn't notice.

Owen: If her Majesty is a wizard or not? Why not just kill her?

Chloe: Huh?

Owen: If she turns to stone, she's a wizard.

Chloe: … N-no, we can't do that.

Owen: Hmph.

Chloe: (Is she Zara…) (Is she really…the reason Rustica loses his memories…?) …For now, I guess I should talk to Murr and Shylock about it.

10 - Please, Remain As You Are

Shino: So this is Cortes… The new Queen's hometown.

Heathcliff: It seems like a nice, peaceful town. But something feels weird…

Faust: The air is stagnant. The local spirits are all in chaos.

Nero: It feels like some kinda contaminant got in here. …Hey, look. Ain't that the place? There's a crowd.

Shino: Let's check it out.

✦✧☾✧✦

Faust: This is terrible…

Shino: Walls and entire buildings have been torn down, and all the plants in the area are withered…

Heathcliff: …There's desiccated animal carcasses, too…

Nero: Weren't there any witnesses to whatever happened here?

Cortes Citizen: … There were, but…

Faust: Can we meet with them?

Cortes Citizen: …They were already almost dead when we found them… Right now their families are making their final goodbyes.

Shino: Were they badly injured?

Cortes Citizen: …Their wounds… It was as though they'd had the life sucked out of them, turning them aged and haggard… Last night, they kept crying the same thing out in their sleep. That they'd seen a monster made of poison…

Shino & Heathcliff: A monster made of poison?!

Cortes Citizen: Yes… At first, it was only the size of a rabbit, but as it kept following the street, it seemed to flicker, and it somehow grew to the size of a goat… And there were noises around it as the plants started to wither and animals collapsed around it… And by the time we'd realized that, it had vanished…

Faust: …Poison… Could you let me see the victims? I might be able to do something to help them.

Cortes Citizen: Yes, of course.

Faust: Sorry for the trouble.

✦✧☾✧✦

Arthur: Excuse me. … Lord Oz still isn't here… …Ah well. I'll leave him a note. I'll write it on the window with magic so that only he'll be able to see it. …Lord Oz. Tomorrow, I return to Central Country. Before I do, I'd like to see you at least once, and speak with you. Your avoidance of me has left me feeling downcast. … Let me erase that part…

Oz: …

Arthur: Lord Oz…

Oz: …We are going someplace to be alone.

Arthur: Then, please, let me. I can at least take us to the sky together. <Pernoctant Nixzo>

✦✧☾✧✦

Arthur: The stars are so bright tonight. It reminds me of the sky in the North.

Oz: … I need to speak with you.

Arthur: …Yes. I do, too…

Oz: I will hear what you have to ask me only once you are fully grown.

Arthur: When I'm an adult…?

Oz: …? …Perhaps I misinterpreted. But that is fine.

Arthur: …Alright. Then it's fine for me, too. Because you'll stay at my side until I'm an adult.

Oz: I will.

Arthur: …

Oz: I am watching you.

Arthur: Lord Oz…

Oz: I was not born to meet you. I was born for my own sake. I do not seek to please you nor any other, nor have I ever lived to do so.

Arthur: …Yes…

Oz: And so, I have lived. One day, the things I have done during my life will bring you sorrow.

Arthur: …

Oz: I have never once desired to bring you sadness. Despite this, my very existence has grown to become something that has wounded your heart, leaving deep scars within you. This is why I have let go of your hand. Should you live in the world of man and forget me… The storm which you must weather would become naught but a gentle rain. That is what I believe.

Arthur: …

Oz: Yet… The loneliness I experienced only after I met you…was truly… …

Arthur: Lord Oz…

Oz: The…difficulty I had in arriving at the days spent with you cannot be put in words. …I imagine my words would not sufficiently convey it, regardless. I do not understand the things that have happened to me, either. Still… I have a request to make of you.

Arthur: …A request, Lord Oz…?

Oz: Yes. Should one day my existence pain you and bring you sorrow. I am the one you should resent for it. Not this world.

Arthur: …

Oz: You must not misunderstand. Please, stay as you are… Loving this world. Should your heart become discordant and as violent as a storm's wind… You must not break your friends, nor the world around you. For one day, you will find something to love… …And you will be able to unhesitatingly…extend your hand…and embrace it in your arms. I ask that you do not defile this world. Please, I ask that that alone is something you do not misinterpret in my words.

Arthur: …Lord Oz… …I can't. Even if it's something you ask of me, Lord Oz, I cannot accept that.

Oz: …Arthur…

Arthur: Were I forced to pick between you and the world, I would always pick you. Just as you lifted me from the snow when I was just a baby, no matter what happens… I will lift you from this world, Lord Oz.

Oz: …

Arthur: Alright, here.

Oz: …What's that pose for.

Arthur: Please hug me. Although it can't be like when you used to pick me up in your arms when I was little, since I'm much bigger now. Please don't overthink things. No matter who you may be, you are the only person who can be who you have been in my life. And you're the person who saved my life and taught me how much fun the magic I'd been forbidden from really is! …I-I'm just so glad that…you didn't decide to abandon me, too…

Oz: … …As if I could.

✦✧☾✧✦

Mitile: …I wonder if that bird decided to go into the birdhouse we made? I'll go check up on it for a moment.

Mithra: Mitile.

Mitile: Mithra…

Mithra: That person isn't here, yes? I was looking for you.

Mitile: You were looking for me…?

Mithra: You said you wanted one, didn't you? A mana stone.

Mitile: …! I did…

Mithra: Shall I tell you how to eat one?

Mitile: Please!

Mithra: That means you want to eat one, right?

Mitile: Yes, I do. I thought over it a lot, but I've made up my mind. I want to become strong. I'm scared of getting hurt like Shino and Heathcliff did, but… I'm the son of the Great Witch, Tiletta. I'm a wizard. I'm not ordinary. I can do so much more than this.

Mithra: That's exactly right. You're the child of the Great Witch, Tiletta. You'll become a powerful wizard.

Mitile: I will…!

Mithra: And if you become a strong wizard, then Rutile's going to regret ever refusing to accept a mana stone from me. "Sorry, you were right, please give me a mana stone." He didn't know a thing when he rejected it. "I'm so sorry, Mithra. You were right. I was wrong." And then when he comes to me like that, I'll reject him ninety-nine times in a row. And if he asks me a hundredth, then I'll give him this little one. That'll teach him to turn down a gift from me. But for you, I'll give you one that's especially good.

Mitile: Will a better one make me stronger?

Mithra: Obviously. Though there's no way for a regular mana stone to make you as strong as I am. It has to be of particularly good quality. And I'm going to give you one of those particularly good ones. Just for you. Here, take it. It's the stone of a witch I killed who had lived for more than a thousand years.

Mitile: …A dead witch…

Mithra: She was so strong that Owen was aiming for her, too. Now, open your mouth.

Mitile: Do I eat it just…like this?

Mithra: Yes. Put it in your mouth, and it'll naturally become part of you. You'll understand when you try it.

Mitile: Okay… Then let's do it. … …nom.

Mithra: … Did it disappear in your mouth?

Mitile: Not yet.

Mithra: I see. Probably soon, then?

Mitile: Not yet…

Mithra: That's odd. Maybe try swallowing it?

Mitile: W-won't it clog my throat?

Mithra: If it got absorbed as soon as it did, that would be ideal, but…

Mitile: Is there some kind of trick to get it to happen?

Mithra: Trick… Perhaps feeling as if it belongs to you.

Mitile: Belongs to me… (This belongs to me.) (This is mine.) (It's mine.) (This is mine.) (I'm going to become a powerful wizard.) (I'm Tiletta's son!) (The son of the Great Witch!) (Everyone, everyone, will remember me!) (Look at me!) (I'm Mitile, son of Tiletta!) …ah… It vanished…

Mithra: Did you absorb it?

Mitile: Amazing… I totally get what you meant! It's part of me now…

Mithra: Isn't it? It's much easier to simply experience it than to try to explain with words.

Mitile: Yeah… …gh…!?

Mithra: What's wrong?

Mitile: Kh….agh…!

Mithra: Mitile? Mitile, what's wrong?

Mitile: Ah…ah…! Ahh, ahh, ahhhh…!

Mithra: Mitile?

Mitile: I feel hot…and…sleepy…I don't know…!

Mithra: What… What are you talking about? Did you eat something strange?

Mitile: Ah…ah… …

Mithra: …Are you okay now?

Mitile: … Hehe… Ehehe… Ahaha… Ahh-haha! Ahahaha! Hehe, ehehehe! Ahahaha!

Mithra: Mitile! Mitile!

Mitile: Gyahaha! Gwah gwah! No, no, no!! No! Help…!

Bradley: Look at me.

Mitile: …!

Mithra: Bradley.

Bradley: Mitile, look at me. Don't look away. Look right into my eyes.

Mitile: Ahh… Ahh!

Bradley: Right here. Don't look away! Mithra, you fed him a mana stone, didn't you? Eatin' a rock that's too strong for you gets you taken over by it.

Mithra: Excuse me?! That's not true. Nothing like that ever happened to me…

Bradley: That's because there's only one wizard stronger than you.

Mitile: Hehe, ehehe… Tadaaaa, tadaaaa. Wauuuugh…!

Mithra: What's going to happen to Mitile? Is he going to die?

Bradley: It's happened before. If you don't want him to die, start callin' his name. It'll help him remember himself.

Mithra: Mitile, Mitile…!

Bradley: Look at me! At me! Mitile!

Mitile: …!

Bradley: Respond, Mitile!

Mitile: …Right…!

Bradley: Who am I?

Mitile: …Brad…ley…

Bradley: Good job, kid. Think you can hold onto me? Here, wrap your arms around me.

Mitile: …I--I'm scared! My chest hurts…!

Bradley: You'll be okay. You're a strong kid. We're here for you, too. Mithra, keep your eyes on Mitile's face. And keep sayin' his name.

Mithra: Mitile, Mitile…

Mitile: Mithra, Mithra…! …Mithra! Mithra!! Ehehe! Ahahahaha!

Mithra: Mitile! Mitile! Don't struggle, you'll hurt yourself?

Bradley: …It's fine, he's fine. You go on back. I've got him.

Mitile: Ahh… Ahh… …Ahhhh…

Bradley: Name?

Mitile: …Bradley…

Bradley: Your name. Say it.

Mitile: … … …tile… Mitile… …

Mithra: Mitile!

Bradley: He's only passed out. But we gotta keep an eye on him all night. If it overtakes him in the middle of the night and he can't pull himself back, he'll turn to stone.

Mithra: What should I do?

Bradley: Keep callin' his name and remindin' him of who he is. The rest is up to him.

Mithra: …

Bradley: Haah… Adrenaline's goin' down… You're a real fucking idiot feeding a stone that strong to Mitile. Did you do it because he's Tiletta's kid?

Mithra: That has nothing to do with you.

Bradley: Guess not. Don't do that to Rutile. If you gotta, pick out a weak one…

Mithra: I won't. He rejected it.

Bradley: Turnin' down a stone from you is a hell of a waste. 'Least it means he ain't goin' through what Mitile did, but still…

Mithra: …

Bradley: Go tell Figaro what happened, Mithra. Just in case.

Mithra: There is no such case. I'll protect him.

Bradley: … Is that right.

Next Chapter

[fuckin-sick-bih]

Burning Ice

Fandom: Marvel: Loki (TVA era specifically) Summary: Loki is feeling a little overworked and under the weather... and then he really takes a nose dive. Not to fear, the TVA's best agent is on the case! CW: s2 spoiler mentioned in passing but not discussed in depth mess (spray), handkerchief, fever, whump, negative self-talk, Jotun Loki, crying (I feel like I'm missing tags, let me know if I can do better!) Word Count: 2223 words MINORS DNI Author Note: Blue Loki makes an appearance... This is very much a fever fic with snz IMO so... do with that what you will. Translation: "Streð mik" means "fuck me" in Old Norse, according to my 5 minutes of internet searching.

Standing before the beverage machine, Loki rubbed scathingly at his temples, which quickly turned into a rub of tired eyes. With work at the TVA piling up, Loki began to feel significantly less and less God-like. He sniffed and turned the dial on the blasted machine for a cup of tea for something to soothe his aching throat. It had been like this since he woke up this morning.

Dry, aching, scratchy. He turned his head to suppress a slight cough into his shoulder as the drink machine sputtered out the last of his black tea. It was nothing like the luxurious herbal remedies of home, but it would have to do. He pushed back his long, dark hair from his face and turned to head back to his cubical with the cup in hand.

Loki eased back down into the desk chair with a little sigh through his mouth, not currently trusting his nose. It had been rather congested since this morning as well. He sipped at the tea, grimacing when it tasted like half-flavored leaf water and moved a few files to set down the cup.

The steam still coming off the cup had gotten his nose running, however, and with the runes blocking his magic now broken… He summoned a handkerchief in a small flash of green and instantly felt like he’d run a mile. A little gasp was punched out of him, and he slumped in his chair, clinging tight to that handkerchief he’d conjured. Delicate with green and gold embroidery.

“You doing magic over there? Thought we agreed that was for emergencies only?” said Mobius suddenly.

For a split second, Loki gathered the soft cloth into a tight fist to hide it from view as he glanced up only to find Mobius hadn’t bothered to poke his head over. He must have only noticed the flash of green from his magic. Perceptive, Loki would indeed give him that.

“Just a small charm, I assure you. Nothing nefarious. I just-” Loki abruptly cut his sentence short as he felt a burning tingle in his sinuses. No. This was absolutely not the time for this. It didn’t seem like his body cared much for his whims at the moment, however, as he sucked in a sudden and sharp hitch of breath. “J-huh-! H’TSHue!”

In an instant, the handkerchief flew to his face to try and catch the spray. “Pardon me,” He mumbled, giving a little sniff and wiping as he spotted Mobius now pop up like Rattatosk the squirrel.

As he balled up the handkerchief once more in his hand, Loki sniffled and reached for the still-steaming cup of tea. All the while, he could feel Mobius’ eyes on him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “I believe the phrase is take a picture; it’ll last longer.” He scoffs over the top of his cup before having another sip of the disappointing liquid.

“You’re sick,” Mobius says, blinking a few times at Loki, who stubbornly meets the agent’s gaze only to find… concern.

“I’m fine,” Loki assured him quickly and set down his cup to resume his lengthy dig into all the paperwork he had left to finish.

While Loki may not have been directly watching Mobius, he was privy to every movement of his coworker from the corner of his eye. The silver-haired man had moved out of his cubical to stand at the edge of Loki’s. “Like the time you were time slipping kind of fine?”

Now Mobius was leaning on his desk, invading Loki’s personal space in a sense, and the god reared his head back like a snake.

“It’s fine, Mobius.”

“’Cause you don’t look fine.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’ve been hit by a bus. No offense.”

An exhausted little sigh slipped out of Loki, who pinched the bridge of his nose. This time, Loki’s voice came out softer, with less defensive venom. “I’m alright, just tired, and want to finish this paperwork.”

Mobius was crossing his arms across his chest and frowning at him. “Alright,” He pats Loki’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze before turning to leave. “I’ll let you work on that.” As Mobius was about to round the corner out of sight, he called over his shoulder, “Be back in a little while!”

Loki blinked sluggishly at his coworker’s odd behavior, frankly too tired to think too hard about it. He sniffled again and grimaced at the sound of it now, rather glad to be alone after the wet snuffle.

The realization he was alone now was a somber one. Still, he was grateful in a way. Mobius didn’t have to be around to witness his misery.

His misery seemed only doomed to increase as the tickle in his nose reignited after a quick swipe with the handkerchief. “Hh’etchhue! Huh… hhh-! Ugh… Streð mik.” Loki swears under his breath, bringing the cloth to his quickly reddening nose. Even with the soft handkerchief he’d conjured, the steady sheen of mess around the rim of his nostrils demanded constant attention.

So much so he could barely work. And when he wasn’t working, he was sneezing or coughing into his handkerchief. It went on like that for a good hour or so.

Just as he could feel that tickle starting to swell in the depths of his nasal passages again, making his lungs stutter in their rhythm for a moment, he heard footsteps. Panic flares in Loki’s chest. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed, how little he’d gotten done, how poor the quality of his craft would Odin…

“Hey… Woah,” Mobius had a hand on his shoulder and was turning him in his seat. Mobius. Not Odin, like his mind had been screaming in fear.

Loki rattled out a hefty sigh of relief and sagged a little. “It’s just you…”

Mobius looked perplexed for a few seconds, a steaming travel cup in one hand and a bag tucked under his arm. “Yeah, just me, pal. You sure you’re feeling alright?” One of the agent's hands came up to feel Loki’s forehead. “That’s some fever. When were you gonna tell me you weren’t feeling great?”

A thick, almost gurgling snuffle comes from Loki, and he grimaces at himself before lifting the soft cloth to scrub at his itchy nose some more. “I wasd’t- oh for…” He gives his nose a quick, productive blow into the handkerchief and groans a little afterward. “I wasn’t planning on telling you… I thought I’d finish up here and ride this out somewhere quiet alone.”

The expression on Mobius’ face looked pained to Loki, though he struggled to piece together why at the moment. Different theories danced around in his mind until he realized Mobius was speaking to him. “- take you somewhere to eat this and lay down. How’s that sound?”

Loki gives a slight hum of acknowledgment to agree to whatever Mobius is saying. Trusting that whatever Mobius has in store for him is good news, Loki gets to his feet only to sway slightly. “Woah- I’m alright.” He says quickly, assuring Mobius, who had shot out a hand to rest on his lower back. “What did you say we were doing?”

They were already walking down hallways and making too many turns for Loki’s fevered brain to even begin to try and comprehend.

“Somewhere comfortable for you to rest a while,” Mobius answered him and patted his back a little. “And somewhere you can drink this tea and eat this nice soup I went and got you.” Soon enough, they entered into a comfortable enough-looking room that had a bed. It was similar enough to a plain bedroom with 70’s era-looking TVA technology.

Right away, Mobius went to set down the cup and bag of food before checking the room’s thermostat. “You Norse Gods like it warm, I guess? Or do you have like… an eternal summer?”

The innocent ignorance made Loki smile a little to himself as he moved further into the room, taking it all in curiously. “We have seasons on Asgard, but no… I like it a little colder.” He admits, nostrils suddenly twitching as that tickle rears its head again while his chest swells. “Hh-! Oh, come on, now? R-Realleh’Tshh! Ng’XtSHue! EgH’Tshiew! Huh…”

Loki had been sluggish, and his reaction too slow to cover entirely, misting the air in front of him with his sneezes. “I’m terribly sorry, Mobius.” 

 “Bless you, nothing to be sorry for. You’re sick.” Mobius waved a hand at him after having set the temperature for the room to be a bit cooler than average. “There. Maybe that’ll help that fever, too. Try the tea. Heard you coughing from down the hall.”

By now, Loki was easing onto the bed to sit and hesitantly reached out to peek into the travel cup. “Trusting you not to poison me.” He jested, raising the cup to Mobius before taking a sip and letting out a delighted groan when the tea tasted divine. Even with his nose practically stopped up, he could taste it. “Mobius, this is fantastic. Where did you get this?”

The agent rocked on his heels with his hands in his pockets, smiling slightly. “Secret little café I know of. The soup is from a place nearby. I’ve been trying to figure out your taste profile. You’re not necessarily a fancy guy, but you’re a quality guy, I think.” The smile on Mobius’ face is almost playful, and if Loki had the energy, he’d make it into a verbal sparring match.

“Perhaps I am. Thank you, Mobius. For all of this.” Loki murmurs quietly and sips at the tea some more, letting the delightfully herbal wave wash over and soothe his sore throat.

Mobius took his hands out of his pockets and sat on the edge of the bed beside Loki. “Y’know, for some reason, it never occurred to me that you could get sick… I just- I guess I just figured you couldn’t.” And the look on Mobius’ face could only be described as… remorseful.

Still, Loki struggled to understand why.

“I got sick rather a lot as a child, actually,” Loki says quietly, not even sure why he’s saying it. Something is making his tongue feel loose, and for a moment, he does wonder if Mobius poisoned him. “Strength is heavily prized where I come from. Strength, health, and physicality… in Asgard and Jotunheim. I was abandoned for being-” The tears welling in his eyes were against his will, and Loki could feel the tightness in his throat as he struggled to breathe through the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

A warm hand reaches out to rest on his thigh and squeezes gently. “For being sick…” Mobius finished quietly as he put the pieces together. It was only then Loki realized Mobius was probably one of the few who had ever bothered to look for Odin, gathering him up as a child on the Sacred Timeline.

“Is that why you didn’t tell me?” The agent asked him quietly, to which Loki gave a slow nod, sniffling against the renewed congestion that had only gotten worse with the tears now streaming down his cheeks.

A bitter little laugh escaped Loki, who tried to wipe away the tears from his cheeks, eyes red from crying, but perhaps also just a shade redder than that. “I’m quite the Jotun runt. So small I fit in with the average-sized Aesir or Midgardian. I mean I’m…” The tears began to redouble as Loki felt woozy, practically hysterical.

Then, all at once, he let the façade drop.

Pale skin drained of any color it had left to a blue hue, and the ridged and raised lines of Jotun markings appeared. Loki fixed a red-eyed gaze upon Mobius, who stared back with those increasingly painfully kind eyes. Part of Loki wanted nothing more than to lash out. To demand to know why he wasn’t recoiling.

“I’m pathetic…” he finished softly.

Mobius scooted closer to him on the bed and wrapped an arm around him, Loki finding himself sinking into that warmth with shocking ease. “If even Gods get sick, then I think we all deserve sick days, huh? How about it?” A warm hand rubbed slowly at his back, and Loki leaned further into Mobius. “I’m not going anywhere, Loki. Just rest. I’ve got you.”

Already, Mobius was gently extracting the travel cup from his limp blue fingers, and Loki was fading against his friend’s shoulder, feeling utterly exhausted and fevered. “Wake me if we get a case…” He mumbles softly. “I’ll be… fine.”

“Okay, Loki,” Mobius said soothingly, gently helping ease him back into the bed to lie underneath the blankets.

Still, a blue hand shot out to grip Mobius’ wrist tightly. “Don’t go?” He pleaded desperately, afraid he’d be left alone now that he was tucked in and settled.

“Hey, hey, I’m not going. I’m right here. Look.” Mobius kicked off his work shoes much like he’d slid off Loki’s and slid right into bed next to him. “See? Right here. By your side.” Their hands clasped together on top of Loki’s slowly rising and falling chest while the God of Mischief sniffled thickly.

“Thank you, Mobius.” And just like that, Loki’s eyes fluttered closed, and he was out like a snuffed torch.