this is random but that's me whenever i hear william's deep voice
I went on instagram with audio and i am IN PIECES
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Marriage with Fyodor
A/n: I wrote this, forgot about it, and found it a few days back. Sighs, head in hands. @sips-tea-cutely you wanted to be tagged dear Maki.
-> Now I don’t think Fyodor would particularly care for marriage. Though with that being said, if he’s been with his lover for long enough and they bring up the idea he’d certainly consider it! Would end up wanting a spring wedding in a church, ideally in the evening too.
-> Would want it to be a very private affair, just the two of them if possible.
-> Despite it’s small nature however, it will be fancy. He’d want the lighting to be dim, candlelit perhaps, with soft classical music in the background, befitting of his aesthetic.
-> Naturally he’ll be wearing his best suit. Black with a deep purple and golden highlights. His hair will be done up as well. Half up, half down, with braids on either side.
-> Will buy his lover their dress/suit too.
-> Ring wise they’re somewhat plain! A simple silver band, however on the inside of his loves ring he’ll have, engraved in Russian, “Forever Yours”.
-> Is surprisingly emotional during the ceremony. There may be a stray tear, but more than anything he is simply overwhelmed with emotion. As a result he’s fairly quiet throughout it all, but also so very tender. His expression is gentle, something that could be described as peaceful, and his touches are delicate. His happiness is definitely more apparent then he thinks it is.
-> The kiss will be passionate and after he’ll simply hold them close, his forehead against theirs.
-> Will want to pray with his lover afterwards too. Will kneel in front of them, head bowed, with his hands clasped over theirs. Will pray for their happiness together, for the relationship to last, along with thanks to his god for blessing him with them.
-> Will drag them into a dance afterwards. Something slow and sweet and he’ll be holding them selfishly close throughout it.
-> Very loving during the consummation too, of course. Has his hand in theirs the entire time.
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@svnsworn sent:
The walls of Meropide are some of the most defensible in Fontaine - perhaps in all of Teyvat, though Neuvillette hasn't been to the other nations in quite a long time, so he can't say that for certain. But he trusts the establishment itself, as well as all of the guards within it, to ensure that no one leaves once they are brought in. The prisoners are to stay, but those awaiting trial still have a chance to see the world outside these walls again someday.
Wriothesly waves Neuvillette through after a thorough pat-down, telling him which cell this particular prisoner is in. There is no need for a guide; Neuvillette has been here many times before. He knows the way.
It takes several minutes, but soon, he arrives to find the Fatui Harbinger in a cell, heavily guarded by magic and guards, chained to a wall with just enough space to move around within the confines he is allowed. There is little doubt that Childe could break through these bonds were he to even begin to change into his other form, the one seen within the courtroom before Neuvillette had to stop him. But there is far more at play in Meropide than even just what protects the cells.
For a long moment, he simply stares at the prisoner, trying to make some sort of guess as to why the Oratrice gave the verdict it did. Childe did not have anything to do with the disappearances of the girls, and that, it seemed, was what even the end of Childe's trial had been about. Perhaps the Oratrice had seen something deeper, something that the Chief Justice could not. These have been his thoughts for a while as of late.
A guard brings a flimsy chair over for Neuvillette to sit on, and he does precisely that, barely making a sound as he does. With legs crossed and hands clasped upon his knees, Neuvillette finally speaks. "The Oratrice is never wrong," he says steadily, gaze holding fast, studying the minute movements that the other man makes. "You are guilty of something. Perhaps more than you let on." He lets the statement hang in the air; he does not know how he will answer. Asking outright might get nothing at all, though that would ideally be the way to get any information. Alas, that has not proved to be the case in a good many years.
“Chief Justice! Well, of all the visitors I might get, I certainly wasn’t expecting you.”
Tartaglia saunters towards his ‘guest’ until he’s nearly at the bars that separate them, enough slack in his chains to gesture, but not to actually reach said bars. He grins broadly and with an impish cheer, an expression wholly unsuited for a man imprisoned, shackled under elemental-suppressor cuffs, and fed what must be the most atrocious fare in the entirety of Fontaine.
At the Iudex’s opening statement, Tartaglia tsks, his eyes, sharp and strangely indigo, fixing on Neuvillette with an assessing, interested gaze. “And yet you make that statement here and now, the very first thing you say to me after that absolute farce of a determination. Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself here more than me, Monsieur Neuvillette. Maybe, despite your words, even you aren’t absolutely sure that your little Justice Machine is one hundred percent infallible?”
The Harbinger spreads his arms with a jangle of chains in a theatrically wide gesture, the thick metal cuffs stark grey against scarlet chitin and wrists black as pitch, the armor of his transformation dissipated but his body still apparently stuck partway into the change that he’d initiated in the courtroom.
“The audience in the opera house at the time certainly didn’t sound convinced of its correctness when it spat out its judgement receipt. Sure, I may be guilty of other things — tipping at Liyuen restaurants despite the local custom there, for instance — but I did not lie when I said that I have nothing to do with that kidnapping, dissolving, whatever-you-want-to-call-it case.
“But besides that—” Tartaglia starts to cross his arms over his chest, finds that the length of the chains won’t let him do so unless he backs up, and settles for stepping forward, his reach just enough to drag one claw down the side of a bar, his gaze never wavering from Neuvillette’s stoic lilac stare.
“—your machine’s errors aside, I accepted your leveling of those charges for the sole reason of participating in your nation’s tradition of trial by combat.” Skreeeeek. “A right which I was not offered. Now, I’m no lawyer, but shouldn’t that fact alone invalidate the court’s decision?
“Tell me then, your Honor: where am I to find justice in Fontaine?” He leans forward, chains pulling taut, and drags one talon against the metal yet again — skreeeek. “Because there was none present when the Oratrice named me ‘guilty’.”
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I hate buerocracy, fuck this shit, why do /I/ have to know what is going on, just let me work and give me money.
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