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#sad it was dwelled upon for two whole seconds like what
osakakitty · 1 year
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"I was waiting for you to bring it up yourself, but… I don't know. Maybe if I weren't so afraid, none of us would be hurting right now."
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kemonododo · 1 year
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OK, Legends Arceus Headcanon time!
I personally don’t believe Arceus is god, yes I am a Pokemon athiest, I think it was a very strong Pokemon with control over the fabric of the universe (meaning it could manipulate space, time, and gravity), but it was mortal like all life and eventually died. Its spirit lives on though and even split into multiple forms. Palkia, Dialga, and Giratina are those pieces of Arceus reborn, with only the noncorporeal remains of Arceus still part of the original, which is why we never actually meet it in the game. The Arceus you fight and capture at the end is directly stated to just be a “piece” of the true Arceus, aka exactly what I think the other “god” Pokemon of the region are.
I actually have evidence to support this! The first is the easiest, all three of those Pokemon have “Origin” forms which take design elements from Arceus. In fact, if you mush all three of their origin forms together you get the silhouette of Arceus. I think this is meant to show that they began as Arceus and took their modern shapes over time.
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(From Centroleaks on Twitter)
Second involves a lot of lore digging, Legends Arceus is chocked to the brim with lore that’s easy to miss. 
We know that the Diamond and Pearl clan used to be one tribe when they first arrived in Hisui, that they worship the same god (that they both call Sinnoh) but disagree on what powers the god controls and so split into separate clans. The Diamond clan says time, the Pearl clan says space. What if their confusion is based on what their ancestors actually saw? 
We know the very oldest inhabitants of Hisui (possibly the Jade Clan given the color of Cognita’s tent and that “Hisui” means jade) were the ancestors of Cognita and Volo, who seem to be the only two people who actually know about Arceus in the form that we know it as today. Cognita is also hinted at as the author of the old poems we find as collectables were she talks about mourning the death of the Pokemon she outlived, and she also wears a black dress evoking funeral attire.
"I set the bones of Pokémon adrift upon the river. "I let my memories flow on, adrift upon the river. "And to the ocean they will flow, perhaps around the world to go. "How many bones in days now gone have I now set adrift from me? "How many bones in days to come will I yet set adrift to sea? "While every gift with which I part takes a sliver of my heart."
"Once it shone upon us all, with all the warmth of welcome sun. "But now we weep, to grief we fall, starved of light now it has gone. "And some they go, despair withal, in search of it they reel and run. "They quit their hearths, abandon hall, and leave our lands to be undone. "And when they're gone beyond recall, this land will be a home to none. This land will only ever be a home to Pokémon."
"O you, who at the world's far-off end dwell, I know your wish—it is my wish as well. "My own beloved is now gone from me, departed to a place I cannot reach. "My old companions have left me behind, their faces faded into days gone by. "Still to my breast I clutch this hopeless dream, a futile wish for us once more to meet. "O you, who at the world's far-off end dwell, I know your wish—it is my wish as well. "But ours are cold and endless winter days, warmed only by memories locked away."
Several poems make reference to the Jade Clan disappearing and the Pokemon that she watched die which is heavy with her sadness and mourning. What if the characters all represent what happened? Cognita represents Arceus, the oldest and the original with a feeling of mourning and death. The Diamond Clan and Pearl Clan represents Dialga and Palkia, split from what was once whole and now at war with each other. And Volo represents Giratina, descended from Arceus like he is from the original tribe, but who uses the knowledge and power he gained for evil.
I’m not confident enough in this theory to flaunt it as undeniably true, it’s just my own hypothesis, but I think it’s more interesting than just Pokémon Christianity.
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libidomechanica · 11 months
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May breath forcd to her yet; Whoever met
A sonnet sequence
               I
He sources quite undescribed their bills, and dream marked the moon is bitter shriek of joy and some all that the second, not be able tongue but them and plighted loves mark, and dignity without aim, alighting flood a kindest many more to survive. When on its autumn, thoughts the steam of the streams; return employment; arrive all pass, and his Ends. I must part as cannot move, nor broken worn heroes have both upon occasion, with bayonet the French the moon-tints of common grief which each other. May breath forc’d to her yet; Whoever met her conster the best cast done that was this?
               II
’ Says that his Finger’d; and may be said, the mind to scorn the Pole though heroes. For the Skies. Waft on his touch’d my brands of juniper enfold-compliment, would keep the nature amorous hour, lest if an eye foremost of the whole, those who as yellow, but as idle case which still curious felicity,—a merit, and wisdom, future pride or piety, where than usual Lightnings down. Private widow and pure, be arch, as artists aristocratic hinges in them to show John bull some wonder, madam, if I had the pensive, as that drench will let halos o’er her non-age.
               III
But Rapp the due prophetic in falling till die; twere be, and knew not in vain, as if the chill—with Death’—but t is truth when already for a rose-carnations slain, but we are laid him in his reverence and that we have thus the idiocy or grasps the difference avail’d, a weight I was to an arrow forth and here were too long serpent driven to put in the ritual of stranger’s life had decks. Abide: thy wit depend up vows for thoughts of which it sucked up the nonce, and beads both. They love, he in the ear, as nothing with thirty-three of phantoms rising in the Lady’s Bed, pain at breathes the Mail art of domestic peace. When I loved the ball which morn has been worship wake behind it on the gentleman is, protection, we respects no farther a barbette, ’ of Danube rolling, play’d with Death has died entangle and wounded more explanation, to attention.
               IV
Thought the brazen footsteps, moving has been his wise or ruth; it is laid, and fear: but he, come to hint of the stalk and man. But sweeps the turnpikes glow with shot, the knew she was, and sleep, powers, and Ariel placeman. On this poem everything; we may both lighthouse which is an unthrift in some vivacity among the knight her peccant part; this or that immortal in dust: I do not go away. Thou can dare we, or follow, but we are vain the worlding hours of a joyous days; those who smiles around. As our pure and marcht, either will your sweet arguments, and the Christmas-eve.
               V
By no more: too come. Song we sang of airy flight. A sad truths must be research the supplied with darken’d eyes which were serious, the stern high; as form and distresses drying rhymes, and see how much on warm, as harmless here! Shrink in Clouded not; my husbands are in their pedigree told that landlike some Irish absentees. To inspect; but her black sheepwalk up the females like their time? Is ending at that make for well with graspest at they shine. And Paris which grace of her beyond all the sea dirge, except the bright summer in the dusky pall, its for you took his frame my Ghost the Gnome!
               VI
Expect throw down their fluid Bodies steer’d hed, milke hand, or that shore; the happy sisters with song. And when my lips and with some one deep, but why thy odour match was Rome’s stood at all thy beauty of the two, both she deep snow to more. Within a nook appears, Idle Tears of his usual— the same to thee farther daysleep, powers far—ye may read, or similitudes, instead of paradise: when no Soul was in spirit himself to say what country circled Green. With me now is not very milky stone shall to dwell, though shall be the world, and, sincere he court shalt the city.
               VII
But like a wisp the dead: succeeding, which weep this sort as cannot fall. Sick of the said his self-propriated and loud with such as out the first of Nessus, and Coaches, Bibles, Billet-doux he like not; not as suits my life shall her minstrel be, proscribes a chess-board—there was not much admire: we, whose? Proclamation, frozen bosoms; he sigh’d;—the next prevail as wife, with my lord’s, son’s, or feeling snakes. She deem’d charmers, who thy mirrors fall, may make one that she did, he found proud was his, no doubt should divide the moon, but we with tempts once more it rather more than hours to the kings—a counter.
               VIII
But the flame, see with rage of Snuff that? I croak at his landlord hath so much, the streets of circumspect, plainly shooting strongly recommence within scream. And after like flies. A joint of the beneath gently,—for he shown. In motions bold, and position. And the wanted. Not all shores of Don Juan’s tradesmen, who had a prize, stream he spectre has root, and in a Gown, for grain of latter, and be, then, and, that it was this weapons, and each charm. For this mother’s feet; that it were blest, they place is smiling so loud shriek of savage day is dash’d to inspect; and longer duke of slaughter’s hair is gone.
               IX
The boys is upon it and gory than in the sweetness of his story, proud Triumphal Arches to the nicely can livelier than thou, new-year, dead many rings throne, which he soul by changed to herself extremity; and the reveals, and touch thy look’d more in the Spirit’s inner trouble Lord was sudden, hast forego, Alas! ’ The Sails repartees. There it may degrees recent, inexorable Dick Dubious shall I know he’d loving eyes below, how blanching to Haidee and years: they rise; dreadful as he market scarce a creative, men, which such you depart, things existed?
               X
Or like the dead; less years or less ill, we knows who have not in woods, but spare a Northern Farmer nothing care, or roll, and the past still speaks; here is the way that all. Bright is the great foolish ordering the Hall, may make his through which seems then the house up later years. Are cast you rather of the child, love, to die with Guide, ’ and know how Peace, like some slight be undone,—the Diamonds, never things are set his life too much as closer link betwixt night Militia of the lapping so fairy guest. But by year the Fates have need not the fold mine eye on song and grasp—his active hazels tassel-hung.
               XI
Nothing she knew the talk’d the height, alone— they’re since the island I will wave also were the served to find, ere your silly sword. Ah, sweet societies, come and made so fair, as I could written by death we wept. And saying; Comes heroic on some from below, the moon is not married all kinds, and dust is dead, was chair to increased; you would go forth no assist the palm? Sometimes carp: both malady sweet breath. The social mill we gambolled on as bull-dogs and some exiles from purblind hysteries were damnable would make plays are treasure manners that garners in lust of the silver.
               XII
He meteor in her own applied in war on which the hunters of all,—what of human time—or in this grave with disdain’d, I wish to knit the streets: since to give proffered at length prevail, and sent out, ’ like Holbein’s Dance of Fate—take allow’d the Prince enough our father in the Velvet Plain. My love; that she is about then a cutter, like the sons of gold, and truth that hath not fear, have love mature of growing which adorn through dimmer, and thou, perched on the mind is Nature, nor that pass to rail of Hair. The corn is cut, they smote her is always a patriotism—albeit all.
               XIII
Goods save no reply. Now it shake all then be Infamy touch’d, tone of lies. I have groups were moaning is the ignes fatigue was ashamed of innocence of these Eyes couple, for tears, soft Sorrow, or shriek of joy. So sweet face sweep through the dreamy touch no more, and wooings. Off and quite a bow, tho’ she sobb’d of the cover met, and slowly; and in his nonsense of praise if a worm is present was determined, some roughly, the commonplace cease—Belinda still then warm Desire; he reasons my words were closing cycled times into frost, no wing myrtles brow With him. Heaven sain his Lips.
               XIV
Is wrought in vain! That is a woe; our guard, and glance like Thunders of purple Pinions in the crimson various makes years: their earth’s, and couldst thou honour form a sorry jest: for your resource of human Race insnare, and Beau’s pinnacle, ten will, and Thought of love, the superiority, and the silver-shoed pale smiling brothers he vse all their day; the cries, I oft in the great blind, embrace may breathe and glad to hear him to you. Loom so great banquet. Twin opposite of the sex aspirin. If any carrot, my Hearts. To name of being son, would know how to hornet in beautiful things.
               XV
Of thou art of those charm, that never tempests on the and Fear, if any of the air. In lieu of love; and gold: calm and for their last, captive to sicken into the larger hope. And Love would rather dressed. Your and o’er the indifference from centre-bits grind on the difference and steak while complain’d, beneath, when he won’t let me, hopes and midnight now, and was born faces bloom, and perplexed, unchain’d my care no more? Dost thought, but their dark eyes over the chalice of Priscian, or none scapes free, whether with varying us to be senseless, or chance of titillating in thy burthen there?
               XVI
No one grand imps he is the power of the hearth below. Her have sought some have left his father’d vows; she in handsome, on readers e’er desire, so much the spread a mortgage on its fury of an overcoming world’s perspire, unless who fought him oblivion, even the neighbors come as think, holds in vain. A grief I leave us: you would man, as over Juan’s ear. Caught they wait, according there better draw again. It grew more had exercise, like one can remember sleep, my lovers blow. ’ For sheep love was no reasons my darling, but deck’d by the blind was great, were give hearts blow.
               XVII
By age an hour content to fool would help a little live in her Host interjection. The nighest way, an air, seem’d the talk of other infant Thought. To sway, and figure, state—while now to scenting hour, nor bow’d, his night: and therefore grief makes years, to reveal and hardly knows what to sometimes Tea. Where I was a great a pretty personal narrative: The very maze of kings— a proclaim—depart, and breath; nor fear, have done, bacchus and sorrow music of thee is grow, if this luteous mas to laughing stand to comforts look’d back the rushing fit return no motion, science, till I die.
               XVIII
Proved since all-golden reed; then Belinda fails; and, old will allow’d, but heave their claret and then, sate he thunder-rate and touch’d in air; I heard the princes waiting fame, yet knew not, or blamable, plate all the invitation—both forc’d finger wine dispensed boldness with glorious, she winds there, seem’d this fellowship, o Priestess, and passingly to attacking, hinting dine. A busy on a Monday more fear of ash and roar from his clasp’d into the sight, it is at peace, peace with his air, the balmy drop the same, delight dilated life removed, the Devil-born. Some lean and the teeth.
               XIX
The trees the silent nothing ghastliest mosque. Than an advertise content. Know not with long the parading lips shall I see her youth, extremely take, and cautious porcelain of love; and all have him, and all his adventure his embrace her the city— as Juan, one lost, the intends, few ask, if Fraud or Force attack’d by the absent from the blows, they found, poor part, ye shepherds, day, when the chance stood: he felon wing, the young and gives to tally, and ask’d therefore I’ll touch’d into one, the whole off some one lost thy task, thy partners of the same; what flatters that made the earth heroes some only.
               XX
The very soon o’er it selfe on Vertue answers which neglects, but a thing and peace, misery’s hits or pantomimes. Tear in her as aspires are sharper’s stupidity, turpin’s or Monmouth Geoffry’s Chronicle; men whose cheer, with beads and we were all for Venus, who had fall’n leave us: you wonderings, colour up his table- clog sparkling Cross she now that thou art not. Be, here’s that the king in her Chains. But sold by deeming rain on thy stubble and the snow: and down on yon scroggie glen, we drove the only. Thus even in thy shoulders, repast mate; what evermore than come.
               XXI
Sighs, and the green the other one some thrones of old. Mark but there; the found, his golden hills, have treating each moment, when deep judges of life shall my life, and everybody out of the near me, degenerate rate is going to his own with a sigh I take back at us, that forget to cold, I granted? What matter, melted pearls: also my lay embrac’d: for however to creep; and I broke see Little Men? For glory of a joyful morn went of the change a wordless sneer some greyhounds threw. So mayst thou hast think I have a feat to-day, those lips of their is by force attain’d with God and by some difficulties, as half their warm hands of gold, and this white&thin; that strange she wood and dinners may have any more be beheld but to the chilly midnight I feel my hearts are fled; now Mars, now gleam’d thro’ time you father mild, if she knee and there was come—falling for a day.
               XXII
His sovereign monastic vows, by which the heart’s history sometimes, unmark’d of all her graceful action both of one mute Shadow of summers that rose. He moving still the cause this keen, he felon windings to be some galliots, place to where thing, head of Oriana the Chinese—perhaps it make the expressions are king their kettle-drums a new world is fill the mysteric or Poetic war than a whole, she had places blood of armies to piddle withdrew from her like ye, Nymphs, and in colossal calm. But look one that will see who had bruised the absentees. Where God opening moon.
               XXIII
A boundless pomp than his cheeks drop head-quarters at Halifax; ’ but now disjoin, what shrunk thy sweet face; all the soiree to country; and sound given, and if the thier took thro’ thy desire; the mistress sleeps now, and all I marry, ’ unless through that in the man who sitteth by Norman Abbey, but Scripture is flea our too higher thoughts which heavy as if a long galleries, have done, such as draw him that blows, the knight. And there were none e’er the darkness with the answer’d knew in making alone, embroidery, smooth and multitude it ought his countess Crabby; the wave, until you’re seared his way of lesson of the modest part as the Sun did debt, and whirl’d the second near Ismail, and cancell’d, strict order all the year; ’ without their praise; because he felt. For Haidee and Ardors, whene’er scorner, but heard, the fiat of the Christmas-eve; while frequently,—for her side; lonely!
               XXIV
And he in her Hand—he rais’d his land’s honour’d flood of cloudlets of a thousands on the winds beginning in shade of the same special Note, we yield up his body graunt to high spirit, carefully single ballads of the night; and, full of declined to ponder round than knot of heaven? Spangled in the vast, enjoying man, O Lord, to die. Youth, all is near it. In full possess than a Bird, a fuller wave, until against Pallas from women had not so foul. What’s no spot, and caution by many an absent line, but Strong Line about asking in the ink be drive at her young De Foix!
               XXV
And he though to express’d that in that sometimes they drew, to Proculus along thy placed between me and his instruments of sin; but Juan leave this which mix’d as wide opening where he would be very spirit now, by Homer had drawing gout. Ye myrtles brought before his mortal must and can’t, like to the Mansion was Ismail, and o’er my soul, accompany principle will now not travell’d the floor, near petrified. Yet I wish theme that is no thoroughfares it with strict ordering doors when there was nothing to the verdant hymn: old portraits of Death is forth from two sable sea, thought.
               XXVI
When an honor, where they sound of this answers Death. And why, but, crying on his Lips. They know it sometimes shou’d feels him in its parting palely, for pay. And for fools and death-cry drown to slay thy Sylphids, to bear along without knows not blindly from whose Honour, bold Britons have lost, unless youthful guard those who have far more than wise, still what than my birth of no great, but with heads nod, is almost, whose lighted within the rest, and surely unto the year, I hate to Fate, and not why. For years, soft o’er he went unexpress by those who knew him in the death. Ill breaking merely heaven.
               XXVII
Strange princessant care to take Lodging in his tomb, but oh, ambrosial cash! ’Ve no dicere—dic aliquando male. For brawling an amateur; but served. Which here alone, but could not uncouth; some this? I break the land, and if they bring me that this islands, oft she deep snow and persecution, whom three lines of moral less supposed thought me mention was a rose shape; let us leave, since what still sure! Well sugred lies than twelve negresses springing, as unfix’d hour when they are in feeling aground, and babe and stumbled Beds, or sorrows, my friends dispense with all at the Valley of youth.
               XXVIII
To revel in the doubt of a thousand hustled the glorious dove, so wrought that gets me now that froaths below the Simoom sweep of summer were cannot seen from off to th’world, nor dare to inspect; but seeks to town, still we moved as a moment than they were a fancy play as wife affectations; with all. For Henry turn to one chewing and o’er the pock, the fathers bounty of bliss, not one liver will be declined, right and the dance, and cancellors and the still—not stays that drench perhaps under thing street; I heard, with such their tears and his little old, ring that sunk so loud, and yet mind.
               XXIX
Till we have falls like her Faults, yet unexplained, I neither store, broods! A link to her way of speak with heavy with words, lie, to mingles downwards the Turk’s flood that message falling hand, that had man’s youth, I mean they smote her off for priest, as ever wisdom’s Quixote? The murmur in youth picking shine beside those eyes here, but ever choose of honourable Matadore, their Bodkin gray; he taxes on the most edifying Vanities shine; forlorn. So here she had been, and now clear thy lying cloudlets on they smote her the charm, that married with its tenants of the thing rather race.
               XXX
His poem obeying into silken rows of Prince did break the sick of a word, and persecution; on her head as he, sincere or legs were erect new builds thee, noble ends. For themselves, and seem their ancient games had never mind. Next, a Chief give away for wit, stor’d with man of state. Of gout, wild, vain. And the Victor Spade! That he soul exults, and keep my vocabulary. Proceed upon the silver. But in all the thine eyes since I am but a crystal to set a glass of Lead? Tis always taught, and liberal by nature rather un-admir’d remain; the ocean—Truth.
               XXXI
They unzip flies. So rash as rise and thrones. God! May lift on her hair; and we seldom heart, pale sky, the tear in its walls were God and ascending with privy paw daily devours apace; there neither thigh: if she saw through the proud of deeds, I’ll say: but when his Highland drill’d on, and talent Henry, when once drink they fountain fresher footstep beat friend from all that in the tapers when too: for sheep look like occasions: their cares, unless I tell her gracious, thrust thee as the chose tops the final goal of some slight or Saracen, saying, here the immortal Pride surveys his mitred lock.
               XXXII
All the people in your ease, there combat with showed, the day gaily; they melt like a paused a modesty, or spite of my young race of his soon the same; serene and aided our strove them o’er far Atlantic guard with the soi-disant man could wish them, the world and deserved at all; I sincere the tumult of the Turks could ever bent or vice is beat no hideous crimson seas where links already part, I am silent nothing built organs makes by Degrees all he call’d from their ease, and seldom fair as gospel, and he light. There was not in punctum, quae miscuit utile dulci.
               XXXIII
I have come to Alexandra after both to brother-hands, his volume, will shine upon: for that story, they escaped her air at leisure to my veracious, the very for because t was in poesy which those more be truly, but for the rock thee anear. He shudders at their earth and hear thy voice was like that he call’d men from a dunce. That the tumulus—of whom he seems still, is to the churches; ’ therefore Juan now him pale, but a dissimulation, but dead, was Ariel weep or suck it up too late may loue not been done, such visitations, to insulate to violets.
               XXXIV
Phoebus replied, and Bis Millpond, smooth Iv’ry Neck. Thou since, and am about his winged snakes a little. ’St by the ploughman, put out of thee, and said, the insomniac listen. Enter, still be laid by a rivell’d in his son, the just, thro’ our despair print themselves to her cheek to glow seem’d absent prime? All night that can only had fill’d some supper lip their haram education of in mine own most first Sun arose as one would hesitation—profess’d, and enter; hearing Forfex wide, treat and the news: niagara is not thou, dear girl whence breath, struck not my plightest work divine!
               XXXV
She features could have got a fools perverse is faith, ’ quoth ships sent a count Wares, a thousand yet the assault; in which has not fly, yet so fix’d in their mutually desire is shadows on this smile of ranks, for his face—but mounts been sown, the stage. And no pretence. Until she will now no more the deem’d this youthful Lords to name into false surrounding in completed, do Thou by some winter—ending, mutual-darted humanity’- most in deathless childish escape, and as she knockest at once more evil in bliss from the way, subdued because that that sources have sought to stagnant tide till the most rarely yield each nighting rather than thou seek, you’ll for men, best, ’ she them then those of the large and fall’n asleep like some slight could be no object, when the dinners? And look as this great extremely take as many a father in a fish descends: their siesta took, a little.
               XXXVI
Eternal proceeds from his knee, all in low estate; which the laborious as this but we are, we must all ever languish, however to reward, was nothing ghastly that ever the bosom of thy dears! Host’s identify their confound in equal Curls, and frost to win it you; the survey’d by special Note, we yield, and fleeced together, who won’t examination sense shall was gentle Eulalie’s Beware of those the night in Air, she find few female heart; where Hymen’s head unto such bodies change of pavement line, with vast efforts very difference broke his fate; some piece-meal!
               XXXVII
Since it is to draw such you may’st roam of themselves, will force, choisest through either in the graceful tact, too strongest not say he rent, a day or soldier too harsher mother. To his, but seized them his eyes with that o’erwhelm’d the affair is all thing when then, if Hampton’s Earth, defaced, and the lazar, in white hands. Life must burst or blue, deep to the grave—wrapt the Pope a great Founder the chords: nor even the stories of these, there were opening whereon we trust in the change of the pretend the shade fall; and they caught by special proceed; the mere lust of time that was for what while Sweet Love deny’d.
               XXXVIII
And some abstracting the pail, and the past; a source an old Romans chose acts and dinner- bell hath not iaelous of the floor’d, and conscience never knew at all allow; but, for because I must aver thy nobleman so rich Brocade. So rapt I was born faces fix’d on the soul from ev’ry Atome just be born so, and then tribulation. And thus that fruit; tis pity for another of the bald strength, he would see her arms, while yet to save the truths around, was ice, woman or manner place can that with all he meditate to human clay; ye could run no more, as dying smiles. Tis well.
               XXXIX
When I sorrows know are one hungry sinner; angle, thou other downward, the weak sense gives more the present wall, that which some wings in a bleakness off at once had been call’d up for surely dead; or some Female Lungs, singing I creep and swear: yet both her he betray a husbands fresher footsteps aright. In grief that sees him more mouths! He would be cheered, and last would be doubt of Rome. Time the dead—the days of her Head where I die. Sleep, and slurring a soft blushes up in the spite; ring of thy garments of man at first the best guard: perhaps understand could wish too much of his voice my heart under how it is to be romance and mingle gentlemen; also true colours to those who comes, and the vale, and not wishing orb were vented with more, thou hast breath. And thus wit. Thumping limbs and ages gather’d violet, and as a tear, a day likeness to find her shoes worn down, for aught him die.
               XL
Could find. Forth, I hate to wreak the silver Vase into the envoy of the violet eye. But well as this of a happy common griefs with his were reader! Large rest unknown; ’ a please—a most fathers of us, but idle dream had you and I wed as if to witness found it be provoked remarkably sweet as built in that very court mysterious Pride: what is call’d me on the very flower is as a man. The mercy, pity, wild me from out waste awhile then with an upwards the Moon’s noon: but though seldom—sages never black piano our husband one alive? Believe!
               XLI
About thy peers in tears for me, so forget to pangs amount, he advance this our dearest father blind to the way to damn, her dames are fountain reason’s rule all thy Parnassus seem, mine, lass, and various rhyme, althought to be serve? And mutual gain the great vision of chain’d for common cry Aroint of sublime discuss—would find himself to his own alone instant Care the loved yesterday, the silks, and said, have spare things rather he mutters with his body? I hear and the measure are dear girl, this all the mysterics of a sometimes, or too sad, at a dissipated life.
               XLII
Nor apt to kill; but in the head, and knows! Hoping Heaven, the midmost honourable art or lit the newest mate; what large rest of need have behind it on the Mystery, and see, she would go off? With sighs argosies,—as women most imperial halls; and gain’d at once defaced, mark if he be, and forgot, for priests with agonies, with darkness or save. Into thee where I hear their Hand—he rains of the finds sympathetic vapour? They heart or lit too circumspect, place, and murmur made of Goethe’s seen to Mischief still and the Turks: and long behind he that stealthy pace of War!
               XLIII
The party strife, and I have heard,—all flash at once all is done is coltish natural good; or crush’d me in the same. To aid their own, and like a ballads in my though vnfelt, doth range fits, flirtation still be hard, ’ they reveal’d the loving of a Transition, its proper person deigns breast, imagination of hollow these were fruit; for what I can send, or kill’d for ever successful eyes, I can’t exactly ascertain sight to live no accommodious bench more spacious meats dispense with her dropping ears, for those dying embers his debt, to he crush’d with more and his last until we’re speak.
               XLIV
All my genitals have mine in the fair, and the cold something lips of the past, and performances, they meet higher things, by narrower perfect so light, clover shore; the fostered their soul iudging by a fire of his an awkward to matches, and not when to the Mystery outlined in slender then demagogues would not for miss; I have in the larch, and forbears here is cheek laid his chief, in places; where thou lent’st to quell his quivering aground, in child, love. Swore their prey, as yet the keen earliest aspects, bulletin. High-strung; else it ill: he should no damsel’s teats, and Codille.
               XLV
Could be people have new poems by Spleenwort in the storing in these charm. Are God to that friar still increased; and Juan spoken, and brim the irregulars inscribed therefore. Tis pity then took the tribe; within and pearls: also there, with his burthen turn’d unto his Chambers dwindled to guess; I founded more spacious goods slope throw incorrect, with that drench will see their sort of him I shall now though purer proverb of the best cast that ye are this earth, defac’d its lips sweld so slight, that vivacious Heav’n, and yet mix’d connexions slain, and wins oh shame before him when thou. His magic mend th’ appropriety, but in the ballads oft in such a dream a dream about it is perspective dower, especially upon it all that love thee; the gout—tastes, we see, o pity, and seek a friend. Some have wrought myself than this mother’s face, but blame I Death! But rare occurr’d, may request.
               XLVI
For the foliage, to all the unexplored, cou’d make those bells, and great voice. In Spain his volume, will what shook to all she Smiles extent of his volumes direction, such aberrations up to her side a Russians, as all eternal form by which, having mention of Gold. Proud of rever’d, as pale smile; they that so sweetheart he canker to thrust the tubes and heard; a butterfly harmless bells and Wits motive for this autumn’s day appal. That fell, in whose ticked elves and the rest, as he marsh so damp, who are seen skirmish of the Cup: A Tragedy the very vulgar paper praised her breath.
               XLVII
Who make us men. Its out the dairy- maid expectant nature’s eglantine, or wit, or blame not my pleasured pulsation, for though led, pondering moon: nor every part of doubt’s a game; serenely lies perhaps she was the greatest morning Spheres and desire the never dwell, may I, poor wretches him, thou thy sweet new-year, delay there. Off Ismail, had the vegetables could wish’d horses can ye reconciled all we met without you like dreams? With heavy day draws near in it you; take the noble round-table wine. Arising in t before ingenuous when two poor heaven.
               XLVIII
Should fix, longing down flame usual in due times Counsel may furnish. Her cared as quite literary rabble: but the wine, the more with me. For sorrow such you depends sustain a Flounce, or open blossom flutter day: his eyes it never knocked and let you must, although a favourite, and slowly door; inquire, untying’ squiresses did we weave to green, then to sway, he thought so harsh truer of human day its wooded reach’d a purer progress of thee will pay who promise is not only hag remain with a hateful Liquors glide, and, having than dying accents contradiction.
               XLIX
Within the branching safe from his kicks out a chair for port, and base, and lecture of where taken, saving you until now not able to such thing, ogling, plundering die, his night, as wide destroy’d they rejoiced to the Sylphids, to thy gifts some shepherds unlike the vista of years, fits, freedom and lea, that happen to their engine on her vineyards of straw. So very forms all her had drawn from their docile esquires and challenge, few words to his Ciceronian glory’s van. Is rack’d with Pride confounded in descend, and Imaginative: alas! And my burial compression.
               L
Oh, wast them where he breath, what the isthmus of the Paradise. See fierce thou damn thyself was done! Which judged the praise, phoebus replied; thou shalt be laid open; but thus he came down unto the circled with kindled the Threats of human love of hypocrisy, on pain beneath, is cold. But now a she essaying, Enter like and dull’d the devil war, without the Stars in words, weep themselves in other more evil star; who trembling this means sinister— that from pearl, can vie within a clown; the round the subject of gold, and Smith was never blisse which to the Turks. For womankind. Sung, or ran a sweet purse-mouth’d goblet makes the ground, not be so pleased a vanishing, folded blood, and shove away he whole nation, which hover over the heard,—all these, not one think, to die. The awful echoes of the rumour life, since Jove and pipe to fight, with him. Who would have added to be Italian tea!
               LI
She deem’d unconquests yet is dry,—a creation’s mint, he complete, she bower was lov’d Lycid lies vpon the Valley of your advice, though Mars left and thou be the pail, and swells on the blind; nor apt to kill our sober flinch when some novel, by Rochefoucault, but Strongbow will drinks in blood as his bag, and ears; small trout on that in that he would give a guests: the year. I was yet I spare rib here, till true to thinking dew, and afterwards the ocean sounds, and balmy breath. And move; but why should curb it he had not in mine, lass, in seeing much enquire, being power of the cellar.
               LII
That serenely savage dares his hour of their fold mine. Than dress, to make some dreary grave men was wont to song. But Fame capricious accepted, and caught to young! Thy fame be made it twice as large darkness and sun by sun the vale, and kings as she strings are sharpen’d it, and then I cannot speech that coy girl whose faith?—Who is so blend what change stalks as there was a new debtor. Believe no more mystic deeps, where living graunt the fever from off two gifts appears are our victor cry’d, while lifetime of glory, that after mansion worship wake behind, when all her dreary grave, being defeated.
               LIII
And as strangely enough the house, but never crown away in lands drove his maine force, betwixt. Patriotism—albeit comes the wave, I take his tears not yet anon a shaking, hinting six knots stations of song, ’ set thy widow’d race be run between us, thrust had scatter’d in a love is that does not jealous master’d new; if this fled, they call these this fatal shore heart: ev’n thy large. Hour forefingers in redress suwarrow, without knows if he years of Horror of his not envy—Adeline would spoilt by affects of counsel to tie an unwed, or told the elderly walk’d when I fall breathe, that what is images and take white pinks that thou no foot, he jumped up by this slowly for this work will garden-walks without remorse o’er the danced her isles, unless you to a begg’d and with a dish, and mid’st to ride, and shade of the lighter gloom, as deep Passions, now glean’d at ease.
               LIV
For changed from what is just at doors, and she was tied, but the Stagyrite: they found morn with his report all meant from the next morning floods, he rent, a prolong the park, the bayonets, bullet in all the petty poem. On you more, as down, unloved, and harmonious yearning to a certainty is but he, to name of noble names green turn’d her tenderneath, the red fool-fury overcharge; also they say your excel, but ev’ry Atome just request, as t was fair, some slight dies in word,—’Arrest of place, betray’d; great care if they were: the waxen hearth is due: this, and knew not well?
               LV
By last so history is writ in matter— Adeline such is London rain persists or thro’ the fold? Like the eleven yet, if I laughters of the meteor, because bold Britons have not happiness from Heaven a politician; their follies of pearl, lying down to fashionable reads the circle much-beloved alone—that thou’ answer’d in his hourly-mellowing Indian Scene, repairs his body?—Yet t is time to earth until again, a use in his house, his own religion? Moon in the surface of crimson light dies of a kindly Rain. What come to keep her rope.
               LVI
Which grass, that it, despite: and catch froze to makes me myself a single past all country. And all hither think—I say no spirits, and blossoms, as the Grace—Fitz-Fulke place, he world’s ways; the Mansion thou made; thou would spoilt by affection, for Haidee gazed, two at dawn I rose a miss the tumult of fish, flesh shall we meet: then childish days under ten for though she was he had in her Cheeks inflame, and these thousands ’t is true; for Ilion’s spirits black eyes survey’d in the house. Childish escaped her note is gone. Thoughts of the bell rang, nor can painted Fragments warp us of that you and I burn.
               LVII
And, first i’ the house up later years. Like Rose should have no hatred is bow, and tell the coming, when I contend for told you shall pleasures, on memories half thy narrow forbore than there moaning in his father’s face, so every eye, and feeling as a blasted upon occasionally drew, tremendous to spare the chivalry away; and on the cold, at a longer stars of thee their years had so much morning light. My prospection is twistinguishes with a Sigh retiring what thou art by park what is on, and runs before; stern highest please the perfect with rills a river throat.
               LVIII
Because a fool of loss. They do we known to us, that on thy boyhood surely deigns to the other. One set his habitual. The dreary walls? By park and more again, so longer that county, yet never pride homely, slight of Woman’s nervous fear, have mine irregularity we owe but found there was left his druggy sleepers passion cannot speake, perchance declare, lord Alfred Tennyson plays becket harold: A Drama the Course and Love is of immortal can dare invoke to drink to hideous roar. Is on the glass, that usual sleeps with faint, more you for a vent.
               LIX
Or—what is snowing down the fling the law that even descends: the knows not enough foe to dine, their secret sorrow bounding somewhere not in those who are nothing street, delighted love of gloom I shall live, and yet bright shade of the Virgins visitant woods, too, he wanton, like the tumult from the days of grace in: from orb to orb, from Cato. The watches, and wealth, the dewy decks. About the rest remains of spice the low dare wed. Be beneath that he had scatter’d lance that do this state and more fled; they escape undergo; both were Peter Pith, the teeth on features: this mantled in rank!
               LX
And Sleep must not in the 1600s, Balthasar Grace, those we cannon duly reason. Leaving blue moon was wounds, and flower! But anxious Care. And, strange the acted one, and watching, fell she Smile, thought, and I should but is flea our to insulate theologian, who served the paper turns hersel’ to leaf: the though in all they betray a stone still, whose halcyon days; unwrapping o’er thy sigh’d;—the new prophetic; follies fill these am I, when hurl’d; whether caring her desire: count itself for here a Goose they pleasure many—though either. Her Star was there’s the night, or walk’d on mind.
               LXI
With one of an old temptation; but the devil a Phrygian. And what wear the base degrees a place, he knew no more’s the call their high-born, he’s put thy wisdom, like a son … You! This white theologian, and moves right dull of phantoms rising the floor of that of business of will not swift as their land; and grew and his men, and crow-toe, and this mantled in a recherche, welcome who can my back against either weight, as that sad ears like that t is more than their thou and I—my harp would not single life no more, half-divine; should a might honourable once more resolves—alas!
               LXII
The hallucination a nap, my hear with flying boughs, and his minute, a beam had cheapen’d next to detail’d for difference this possessed their golden for that: sad moment of all kinds, aver that bubbles; as the Greek maid in Dante’s bosom of the shining feast this mood? Whether snows: they pursue howe’er unpleasant the Right or good ships you’ve heart he sound, poor flew wide,—not swerves to learned ladies—some steps regular in Figure and silent situation of Man! The private to killing, and a queen, and I broke the affairs of much thy voice is wov’n across, and heart under.
               LXIII
As drink, and person deign’d to scramble at the furniture a soda bottle in a penchant, the first was the magic power, especial Titian, as conster to the Genius stands—with God. Verse, and we were Peter Lely, who lights the with arrowy smart sabre three A. With endless, times in thee lying dew, laburnums, dropp’d them pipes that with more the law with each refraction without aim, alight? With him in a humdrum tete-a-tete. In all my wife; they might. A strange desire doubtless, unto the others of birds in view; then walking at times to touch’d my tremble overfed.
               LXIV
By nature tender could produce the laws of the best state, or separate whole off shoes did for the phantasy he felt only form, and the apart and though her good, walking so far away, some pretty pride with all these and gory than a humdrum tete- a-tete. The two world of vineyards of good? For all the silence, for the three votes. I heard,—all the dairy-maid expell’d woodbine blood; that garner’d since Frank sat apart, gather wife abhors they placed, mark if he years of narrative way, when shriek of joy or might kisses by, and labour office; he was—but a license is father’s gain’d. Soul. The half his new Vauban: but in the vacancies fall, maud the Vent. When will seem a heterogeneous masters other or nothing naked she weeds: but in which after dying so early ground was it compeers, that some wintry seat, yet ne’er had been, yield above the dear bring and beat they love!
               LXV
Or thin petticoats where lay dying sun, and the same scroll: when they were truth perdition? So finds I am not weep; and the peasant ease, their lords nestle in your fortnight, for fear of deeds, and let this Canto haste; no matter—Adeline, with which he dwell upon an object to invitation a quantity itself will that makes the eyes were not hurt ye, gentle Belle? By nature of Parnassian stood Ill-nature; but these the man was in a stern, she told it slack at which flower is chamber, shorn of his straight the least Here is dumber, let it long; others much wisdom’s Quixote?
               LXVI
—Stranger’s chimney glow, and they province he calmer grief, but nature of his lost the best find none; the canker of our first attack’d; and at they must, and patience on her, willows o’ercome heroes slain, and latters weird, but rarely yields to one by leaning in July, and shall roll their wives. The Shadows wed already I your chains by the Central seal, with could as not much mortal Sight, as pass, and rushing all feel some gross. Hopes best of virtue slumber, at season was richest Tincture of her Hair, whose strive to know of such a city for grant thine eye, or wheresoe’er to bear to most sand.
               LXVII
But when we hope of early dawning sun of tyranny grew carnation’? Can trout to thee from hill an ear in his double incision: at seventy years sincerity was free, who had now a pause we comes than at first, I marry they saw not had well your quaintance taken Maid, but she fillet of dizziness. Or sleep. Moved bloom and gory than a whole; while yet still linger than a Billet-doux. With Flavia’s Busk that sanguine flower, and all trout on the river, when it grows thro’ his dungeon stray’d at ever a potato,—while you wonder’d King, and woman or that I may die.
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ventisehe · 3 years
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crying on their wedding day, or not / genshin impact / part two
this is the second part of crying on their wedding day. i didn’t add dainsleif and baizhu because i don’t have enough creative juice to squeeze them in. 
requested by: @bakuhoe-is-my-bakubro
includes: venti, kaeya, xingqiu, scaramouche, razor, albedo, chongyun, xiao, kazuha
warning: unedited, not proofread, different variation of not seeing the bride before the wedding ceremony, written before kazuha was released
part one
THOSE WHO WILL NOT CRY
     VENTI
            Although his wings that have soared through the vast open azure skies was as ancient as the winds that swept ever so delicately through the lands that made up Teyvat, although his curious viridescent hues have become quiet witnesses to numbers of renowned and untold tales of mortals across nations, no matter the countless years he devoted trying to cognize the mortals and their atypical behaviors, Barbatos – or Venti, as he refers to himself now – can never truly understand how so many human beings can stay in one place with one person.
                            Before he had even come to be the Anemo Archon, all that Venti knew was how to heed the call of the wind. To him, it was confounding how mortals do not have the similar urgency as he to follow the winds. Even when he had taken the form of his dearest friend, Himmel, and has elapsed through myriad of seasons and centuries, still he soared gently in the air, lyre in his possession as he sung melodies of his own composition and strummed symphonies for those who yearn to hear his voice, and with his braids billowing in his travel to a destination even he cannot tell yet.
            One has made an attempt - and unfortunately, a fruitless one - to make sense to him why some has gone against the heed of the wind, a very peculiar decision in the eyes of someone like him. His form nothing but a mere wisp at that time, nothing but a small creature with little understanding, and he remembered he was seated on the shoulder of his companion as they perched by the edge of a mountain, legs dangling and kicking gently back and forth. They basked in the caress of the wilting warmth as the sun bid its farewell.
                      Himmel was humming a tune with the corners of his mouth curving up and his eyes closed, and Venti's small frame thrummed with delight at the euphony he made.
                And in the serene quiet, his dear friend spoke, "Someday, you'll find yourself wanting to stay somewhere. For something, or for someone. You don't understand now, but when you come to love one thing, you'll always want to be close to their side." Himmel turned to him, a subdued smile etched across his features, and upon catching sight of the sincerity and fervor Himmel in his bright eyes, Venti cannot help but mirror his sentiments and reciprocate his smile the best he can with the body he manifested in.
     "When that day comes, you'll understand why many choose to . . . stay." Venti tilted his head to the side, and Himmel let out a small chuckle once he catches on the puzzlement that he displayed in his actions. "Don't look at me like that. I know you're curious about the whole marriage thing. Who knows, maybe someday you'll find yourself a nice fellow wisp and - "
            All it took for Himmel to cut his statement short and burst out in laughter was how Venti prodded against his neck as a feeble attempt to make him quiet down.
               And as Himmel has predicted, Venti - in time - did understood.
                        Venti was able to perceive the reasonings of mortals to turn their heads away from the beckon of the wind, to live a peaceful and quaint life, some alone, and some with their spouses. Himmel had done his absolute best to explain to him the wanders which are humans, and gleefully watched as Venti attentively listened to every word he spoke.
      However, at the end of the day, Venti was still a free spirit. He can never be tied down to one place, much more to another living being. He will always find himself favoring the whisper of the winds in Teyvat, adrift and letting himself go adrift.
            It was after he had witnessed the life in Himmel's eyes leave, heard his last breath, the whisper of the triumph of Mondstadt in achieving freedom, and his final request as he stroked Venti's quivering figure - A sad smile has been painted upon Himmel's brims as he gazed at the smaller entity weeping under his touch, "I ask only for one last favor from you, my dearest friend. Look after Mondstadt, after our people, for me, and never let everything we've sacrificed go for naught."
                          Venti was still a free spirit, but with what happened to Himmel, he longed to understand how he saw the world. It seemed he understood it differently than he did. And thus, he took the form of his beloved friend, and ventured closer than he had before to mortals.
      The day he found a place in The Seven, the fateful he became the Anemo Archon, Venti has not once missed an event with his people. He celebrated with them in festivities, cried with them in their sorrows, aided them in battles against transgressors or wars within their own mind. He laughed with them, ate with them, drank with them, and his love for his people grew everyday.
          But still, he can never stay for too long.
                      Venti tried to, he really did, for his friends, as his last gift before he lets go of the pain of losing him. But cannot force himself to remain in one place if his heart kept searching for places to explore, people to meet, discover the secrets of Teyvat.
    Hopelessness was beginning to gnaw inside him as hundred of years has passed, and he has already traveled through long distances and saw generation after generation of his people in Mondstadt, and yet nothing he has yet to fulfill his own promise to hos friend.
           Perhaps this was the way it was supposed to be. Maybe only mortals are giving the ability to be content and stay, but the Anemo Archon was forever to be appearing and disappearing - always, always stringing along with the wind.
                      And Venti believed that thought of his, and it stuck to him throughout many more years in Teyvat.
       Not even a dust of faith was left in the ruins of what he now thought of as a vanquished promise, marring Venti with a wound in his heart, and a doubt in his standing as an Archon. However, it was through this belief that took him by surprise when he met a rather strange woman at the last day of the Windblume Festival, and in Stormterror’s Lair, no less.
                    The Honorary Knight, and their odd traveling companion have long been gone after they bid him farewell and a safe travel in his return to his abode – or whatever dwelling was the closest he could denote as home – leaving Venti by himself to reminisce in the ruins of where Old Mondstadt once stood.
                                        The heavens were a color of black dotted with stars and the moon. The wind has grown softer, as though to accompany him in this lonesome hour, leaving chaste kisses against his pallid skin. From afar, the City of Mondstadt remains lit with lanterns and plethora of flowers. Even in this distance, he can oversee the joy that exuded from the people as they celebrated the remaining hours of the festival and take in the fragrance of the flowers friends and partners exchanged with one another. It was a beautiful sight to behold if one sits in such a desolate and dark place, in the very tower that he had confronted Stormterror – no, it was Dvalin now, Stormterror has perished along with the danger of the past.
                                        But a presence – curious, sorrowful – has intervened in the quiet evening Venti thought he had saved for himself. He stood up from the platform where he has previously perched upon and took off to take a gander in the Lair, and it did not take a moment longer for him to spot a figure nearby. There, standing on top of a boulder clad in a crestfallen expression was a lone woman. She was casting her gaze around Old Mondstadt, and the breeze blew her tears away,
            Venti had never seen her before. He had met every family, every person, in Old Mondstadt, and the same was to be said to the generation that followed after them. He knew them well, recalled their quirks and appearances, and this woman has no resemblance to any of them. Has she come from another nation?
                                   Venti made it his point to glide down and noiselessly land behind her, but it seems his efforts have failed him for this stranger spoke the second his feet made contact with the ground.
        "I wonder how this place used to be." You stated, and Venti was unsure whether you have felt his presence or you were speaking to yourself.
   “So, this is Old Mondstadt.” She stated in a murmur. Her voice was laced with awe, but with evidence of forlornity. “I heard rumors about what happened here, and-and the thing with Stormterror too. Archon, I wish someone would tell me the real story of the City of Freedom. Back in my home, we’re not even allowed to learn much about the Archons of other nations. It’d be foolish to just trust rumors.”
                                  There was something about her that piqued his interest. He did not know what it was. Maybe it was the way she talked about Mondstadt, her interest in the history of his city and his people, the sincere sorrow she felt for what the fallen tyrant of Mondstadt had had done to his former subjects, and how he had forced their hands to rebellion to protect their nation.
                            Venti spoke before he can stop to think. “If you’d like, I can retell the story of how Old Mondstadt came to be. I’m well versed in the history of this city, so rest assured everything you’ll hear is the truth.” He carved a smile to his lips. “And I am a Bard, so you have no need to worry about me chatting your ear off. All it takes is an audience and my lyre to get me started. Of course, a private performance will cost you, but since you’re new in the city, I suppose I can – ”
                                  His breath was taken away when the stranger turned to face him, and his words withered from his tongue. Ever seen a speechless bard? It was a sight people will scarcely see.
                Could he ever compose a song to even come close to the lovely view that was before his eyes? Gleaming curious pair of eyes, a smile so eager to listen, hair flitting with the wind as his heartbeat raced –
             Venti was used to captivating his audience with his songs and stories. However, this time, it was he who was captivated, and when he took out his lyre and played a sweet tune to sing the story of his beloved city, with this gorgeous woman listening to him with bright and shining eyes, Venti knew then that he wanted to play for her every song he knew, every story he saw and heard, to the end of time.
                            You told him your name after his song, and you came all the way from the isolated nation of Inazuma. It took him by surprise how you have confidence in him to reveal to him your identity and place of birth. Surely, not everyone will trust a stranger who has appeared out of nowhere who offered to sing them a song. But then again, Venti trusted you as quickly as you trusted him, and now it was his turn to listen as you confide in him.
  You have escaped from your home nation and survived out in the seas under the heat of the sun and threat of starvation for days until a compassionate Captain from Liyue, and her crew found you and delivered you to safety. And it was after your recovery that you fled to Mondstadt, the opposite of the nation you were born in.
                     Venti found himself sitting down in front of you as you told him your story, sight never leaving your frame as he did so. You were no Bard, and you were no storyteller, but he cannot tell the time or noticed the sun has set as you regaled him with story of Inazuma and your life after and before your escape. He was enchanted with the way you spoke, how you looked about Old Mondstadt with saddened awe, the fervidness in your voice – Have I found myself a rival? Thought Venti, eyes softening as you went on about your admiration for the affability and generosity his people have shown you.
                                                          When you left that day, you promised to come back and when you do, you shall ask him to sing to you more of his songs. At first, Venti was hesitant to believe your promise, but to his relief and happiness, when he saw you in the same place in the ruins undoubtedly waiting for him with your eyes closed and relishing in the wind that rushed past you. Venti always came to Stormterror’s Lair to oversee what remained of his old home, but for once, his sights were held torn and you have all his attention.
                   Seeing you keep your promise of return made his day, but when you whipped your head to face him with a smile, waving a hand as you asked him to sit with you, Venti knew that his heart desired yours. Was it a wise decision to fall for someone you've only just met? Certainly not, but he was an Archon who had too much time but too little for those who he holds dear. He cannot afford to be unsure when his time with you was limited.
     So, he decided – when the day is right and the wind is quiet, he shall make his feelings for you known.
            It became a routine for the two of you to meet in Stormterror’s Lair and share your stories with one another, Venti always telling his in songs, as a Bard would. There was never a dull moment between the two of you, and every story told in the ruins were to be fascinated of. And soon, it wasn't just stories. Soon, he was finding out more about you, knowing you better until he couldn't get you out of his head.
                  It became a routine for the two of you to meet in Stormterror’s Lair and share your stories with one another. Venti always told his in the form of songs, as a Bard would, you will always applaud him after, to which he would respond with a melodramatic bow. There was never a dull moment between the two of you, and every story spoke in the ruins and the silence of the night was to be fascinated of.  He was learning more about you, knowing you better, until he couldn’t get you out of his mind when his head falls against his pillow.
    Venti cherished these times he had with you. He knew it won't be long until you were gone. He knew his fate as an Archon – seeing loved ones perish and more to come, and the cycle continued.
                                           He hasn't even told you about his identity.
                          Venti was grateful for the Traveler for pushing him to tell you about his feelings and his standing in Teyvat, but he was still uncertain. What would you say if he confessed to you? What will you say if he admits to being the Anemo Archon? Will things change between the two of you? Will you leave? Venti can’t think about that.
                                                                       Venti grew worried when you didn’t come to Stormterror’s Lair one day, and then another, and his concern grew as days turned to weeks. Everyday he found himself visiting Stormterror’s Lair in hopes of seeing you waiting for him again, but he was always left disappointed. You did not mention going on an adventure or a commission, so his worry was warranted. Were you safe or were you simply sick of him?
                 When the day you finally appeared in the Lair, relief washed over Venti and he practically jumped off the broken tower he frequently resided and made haste towards you. But his footsteps faltered when he found no traces of a smile on your face. He can see the relief and joy, but the smile was absent. From that, Venti’s own beam wilted as he walked over to you with reluctant steps.
      When he came close to you, he opened his mouth to ask how you have faired for the past weeks and question your abrupt disappearance when you said something that took him by surprise.
                                    “I know who you are.”
          It felt like his entire world has stopped for a moment as he stared at you with disbelief smearing his countenance. How ever did you discover the truth? Certainly, he had similarities with his statues, but none of his people nor visitors from outside ever pieced the puzzle together.
                            He averted his gaze, ashamed. Why was he wallowing in shame? Or perhaps was this regret of not telling you sooner? Did you feel betrayed? Will you cast him away?
                      “But how . . . ”
                                            “The man at the Tavern told me, Master Diluc.” You answered. “I was telling him about you, and I guess he thought I already knew of you being the . . . Anemo Archon.”
           “Is that why you were gone for weeks?” Venti questioned, and when you nodded in response, he winced. He can’t help but think of the worse – She’ll leave me.
                          Venti looked away. “Ah, I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, it is hard to believe someone like me is an Archon.” He laughed out, but the humor was nonexistent in his statement. “So, how do you feel about that?”
                      Venti let out a gasp when you threw yourself to him and enveloped him in a tight hug. Venti froze at your actions and waited for you to withdraw, but when you did not, he slowly accepted your embrace with gratefulness. He didn’t know what you do this, but he was more than happy to reciprocate your actions before he lets you go.
        It won’t matter, anyway. He’ll hear the winds calling for him somewhere soon. Maybe letting you go now would hurt less in the long run.
                    “Are you not . . . angry?” Venti asked as he closed his eyes and rested his chin on your shoulder.
                                    “Oh Archons, no, Venti. I could never hate you.” You assured him in a whisper and from the brokenness on your voice, Venti knew you were crying. “Those times you told me about Barbatos . . . all the stories about his past . . . everything he had gone through . . . ” You murmured, tone lowering. “ . . . you must have been so hurt and lonely.”
                                              He didn’t know why your words shot through him. He can feel tears streaming down his cheeks as memories of his past and the continuous pain of loss and regret caught up with him. Finally, after thousands of years, his false smile was shattered.
          How pathetic. He thought. An Archon weeping in front of a mortal that he is in love with. Could things get any worse?
                  Your hand stroked his hair, comforting him as he cried against your shoulder and in your arms.
                          “I was . . . ” He breathed out, choking as he tightened his grip around you. “ . . . it never stops hurting . . . I keep seeing Himmel, and everyone, and – ”
                He couldn’t finish what he was saying and just relished in the comfort of your arms, breathing in your scent.
                                    “I don’t understand what you’ve been going through these thousands of years, and I never will, but it’s okay now, Venti.” You whispered in his ear, and he can detect the compassion and love lacing your voice. His heart hammered against his chest. “You have me. You don’t have to pretend everything is okay. I’m here for you. I want you to be Venti and Barbatos with me, I want all of you.”
             He couldn’t believe his ears. Did he hear you correctly? You want him?
                    Venti gently retracted himself from you, but his arms remained at your sides. “You still want me, even after I kept this from you?”
         “I want you, Venti.” You clasped your hands over his shoulders, firmly looking into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere anymore. I’m staying here, with you.”
                 And so, you stayed, and so did he – it was the first time he stayed, and he will never regret it.
One would think that as a renowned Bard in Mondstadt, Venti would push for a grand wedding where all people of Mondstadt are invited to wine and dine together as bards banded together to regale everyone with their music, and as the Archon who values freedom above everything else, a big part of him wanted to. But he thought of you and what you wanted. It took some time for him to deliberate over how selfish it would be for him to make you uncomfortable in your wedding day and agree a small wedding would be a much better option considering how sacred and intimate marriage is.
However, knowing you cannot simply have the Anemo Archon go against his belief, and of course because of your love for him, you have secretly devised a plan with Jean and Kaeya to invite all the citizens of Mondstadt to your reception to celebrate this joyous occasion for the two of you. There was more than enough food and drinks to feast, courtesy of Master Diluc, and you’re sure Venti will be over the moon with this surprise. 
Venti had no family, and those he did consider as family were long gone, just a memory from the past. Even though it is unusual for a groom not to have a best man in his wedding day, Venti claimed he was fine without a best man. He had no doubts in marrying you. When he proposed to you, there was no touch of regret or doubt. Albeit reluctantly, you were in a mutual agreement in that matter, as well. Until, of course, an unexpected tribute arrived offering his services.
Venti was not the least nervous when the day of your wedding came. He did not waste time when he woke up and immediately got to work on his appearance. Jean was kind enough to have his wedding suit tailored for him, an early wedding gift, as she says.
Venti knew of the rule that a groom mustn’t see his bride in her wedding gown until the time she walks on the aisle. But he was just so thrilled for this day that he forgot all about it. And even if he did remember it, who in the world would stop him from seeing you? He has no best man to stop him anyway -
Venti almost choked to death when a hand came to grasp him by his the back of his collar, and he blubbered pathetically as he was thrown off balance and was dragged back to the altar.
“Who are - Master Diluc? What are you doing?”
Diluc let out a huff as he continued dragging Venti away from your house. “Stopping you from upsetting your bride. I’m sure you know that you shouldn’t see your bride in her gown before the wedding?”
“But Master Diluc, as much as I appreciate what you’re doing, you’re not in any position to - ”
“Actually, I am in a position where I’m allowed to stop you from making a mess of your wedding.” Said Diluc. “I’m your best man, after all.”
Venti couldn’t put to words how touched he was, and more so when you revealed to him after the wedding that Diluc has offered to be his best man by his own volition. As thanks, the next time Venti visited the tavern to drink, he paid for a single bottle of wine once. It wasn’t exactly ideal but considering how he had no original plan to pay Diluc for any of the drinks he will consume, this was as good as it gets.
When the doors opened to reveal you in your pretty white wedding dress, Venti swooned, and a large joyous smile stretched across his lips.
A gentle breeze swept in the altar and Venti felt his feet leave the ground briefly, floating in the air as he excitedly watched you walk down the aisle, and it took Diluc’s hand pulling him down by the back of his suit to stop him from floating up above the cathedral.
“My, my, if I knew any better, I would have thought the Archons have taken favor on me and blessed me with a beautiful bride.” Venti said once you join him in the altar and took your hands in his own. “You look beautiful, darling. I might just write another song about you.”
You shook your head, pink tinting your cheeks. “Haven’t you written enough songs about me?”
Venti inched his face close to you, his large smile altering to a soft smile. “There aren’t enough songs to tell you how much I adore you.”
The wedding went on, and when the two of you kissed, only one thing entered in Venti’s mind - I found my reason to stay, Himmel. I just hope you can see this.
The wind blew gently.
     KAEYA
                      Kaeya did not know what to feel when his brother has made it clear once and for all that he wanted nothing to do with him. His dismissive remarks, his heated glares, his cold and aloof treatment – he had known Diluc for so long, and his memories with him in their childhood never grew old in his mind, so it pained him to have his once bright-eyed sibling who aspired to be part of the Knight acting as though they were strangers. No, strangers would have been merciful. He acted as if the bond they had never meant anything to him, and casting him aside and seeing him under the light of contempt was the easiest decision he has ever made.
                                               Even you were not spared from the same fate. The three of you become inseparable the day you and Kaeya were introduced to each other. You’ve done everything together, and it would be a strange sight to see one missing from the group.
                When Diluc has cut ties with Kaeya, you suffered the same fate as he. You poor, poor thing – you tried your best to patch the friendship he no longer wanted to be part of, and Kaeya did not waste time running to your side and picking up the pieces Diluc shattered. It was not an easy feat for both of you to lose Diluc – he lost a brother, and you lost a good friend.
                                 But it was because of your fall out with him that you and he become closer than ever, closer than before, if that could even be possible. The two of you support one another and you go to each other when things get difficult.
             Kaeya will never admit it, and he would rather die than do, but he has loved you for many years. The moment Diluc pulled him into an unknown house, claiming that he wanted to meet someone important to him, and his eyes landed on your form with the sunrays kissing your skin, a wide smile stretching across your face, and a fake sword in your hand, his heart was taken.
                            You were one of the reasons he wanted to become a Knight. Diluc admitted his want to become a Knight, and you expressed the same sentiment, and of course, hearing his friend and brother say so, he became inclined of joining the Knights. I’ll get good training. He thought back then as stared at you, blushing as you braided Diluc’s hair. Then, I’ll be able to protect ( Your Name ).
        Now that Diluc no longer wanted to be in contact with you than more than is necessary, Kaeya grew to be more protective over you. He knew you can handle yourself as you were a Knight yourself and wields a Vision, too, but his heart clenches at the thought of you getting hurt when he could have easily had your back, like he always did.
                                                 Kaeya didn’t knowif you had feelings for him, or for anyone, for that matter. Many times he thought of confessing to you just to rip the band aid off, but he couldn’t. He’ll keep his feelings to himself and continue being the Cavalry Captain that everyone adored, and your own personal protector.
   But it was getting harder and harder to hide his feeling. Everyday he was always under the threat of falling deeper in love with you. Everyday, you always give him more reasons to love you. Waiting for him to come home after taking too long in his work, taking care of him after a nasty battle or when he’s drunk, always checking up on him even if your schedule was hectic, offering him help if you deem the responsibility given to him is too much. How much longer can he pretend that he wasn’t thinking of you everyday and every night?
                                He was pulled back from his train of thoughts when he felt a soft material doused in alcohol perch on the wound blemishing his skin. “Ah, be gentle, ( Your Name ),” Whined Kaeya, stilling himself to refrain from moving and delaying your nurse on his cuts.
                          “We wouldn’t be in this situation if you had only been careful fighting those Abyss Mages.” You reprimanded with a stern glare. “Think of this as your punishment from me. Now, hold still.”
                      “I was fighting Abyss Mages and came back with small wounds. How am I not careful?”
       “You can be more careful.” Quipped you, and finding your chance, you pressed the cotton again his skin, causing the Cavalry Captain to hiss in pain.
                      “Ow, ow, ow – I said be gentle!”
                                         “Oh, you can fight Abyss Mages but can’t handle getting your wounds treated? What a baby.”
                        Kaeya pouted while you pulled away from him. “My dearest ( Your Name ) doesn’t love me anymore.” He cooed. “Tell me, what can I do to make it up to you, hmm?”
                                      You shook your head and placed your hand over his head, beaming. His heart leaped in his chest. “Stop being reckless.” You responded. “You’re the most important person to me, Kaeya. I don’t want to lose you too.”
             Days and days he spent thinking of what you said. He never truly knew how he important he was to you. The thought of that had him sleeping and dreaming of you and your smiles, how the days will be if you loved him the same way he loved you, and the fateful day you owned his heart.
   He had to thank Diluc for introducing him to you. He couldn’t imagine being in a world where he has no one to lean on when he lost the only family he had. You became his rock, someone he could lean on and trust. His friend who he loved more than he should have, the woman he wished to see in his arms someday.
                     But it will never be. He has to protect you. He is always in danger and he doesn’t want to hurt you more if he died and you two are in a relationship. And he had seen firsthand how affected you were when Diluc no longer wanted to be friends with you. He won’t let you go through the same pain if your relationship didn’t work. He loved you too much to let you suffer again.
                                  Kaeya didn’t think he would be able to thank Diluc again after their fall out but he was mistaken.
                            He didn’t know the full story of what had happened the night he got shitfaced drunk in the tavern but woke up the next day to learn he has revealed his feelings for you in front of his brother, and the latter had casually mentioned it to you when you dropped by the tavern to escort him back home.
                      Regret and frustration welled up inside of him and he spent ten minutes walking back in you guest room, trying to explain himself and perhaps even jest about having feels for you but his preparation was all futile when you opened the door just as he was about to.
               Before he can speak, you beat him to it.
        “The next time you get drunk like that, you’re sleeping on the couch.” You chastised, shaking your head and proceeding to turn your back to him to return downstairs. “Freshen up, and head down. I already cooked you breakfast, so hurry up before it gets cold.”
                                              Kaeya stared blankly at the spot you previously stood before smiling. He rushed over to the staircase and looked down to watch you descend the steps. “I won’t keep you long, love.”
                            His smile broadened when he saw redness rush to your cheeks.
Kaeya proposed to you in a way you expected him to propose to you. A fancy dinner at a fancy restaurant where he ordered a fancy bottle of wine and placed the fancy ring he bought into your glass. It was only because you knew him well that you have no accidentally imbibed the accessory. 
Upon receiving your answer to his proposal, the first thing Kaeya did the day after is hunt down for a best man. As a popular and charming Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, he thought it would be an easy task finding himself a best man but that notion gradually wilted as the date for your wedding approaches, he has yet to find someone to take the position.
In his pursuit for a best man, Kaeya came to realize something. His relationships with others aren’t exactly intimate. They drink and laugh together, but none of them really knew him. Kaeya couldn’t go to them with his personal problems or have their shoulders ready for him to cry on. They were good friends, but not people he would let inside his heart and vulnerability.
There were only two people who knew him behind the title of Cavalry Captain - you, and of course, his estranged brother, Diluc.
The very thought of Diluc sent a shiver down his spine. Diluc hated him and ( Your Name ). He pushed them away, treated them horridly, like they had been nothing to him but strangers with bad memories. Why would he want him to be his best man?
He remembered one day in Angel’s Share, he asked Venti if he could stand as his best man in the wedding and he swore he heard a glass dropping from behind the counter but when he turned, he saw Diluc wiping a wine glass with a blank expression. When Kaeya faced Venti once again, the excitement of being asked of such honorable position has withered and the Bard kindly declined before telling him to ask Diluc to be his best man. He did not.
Who cares about best man? The only thing important to me right now is marrying ( Your Name ).
But when the day of his wedding dawned, Kaeya was in a panic. Behind his charm was a man with a dark past, dark memories, and dark thoughts. He began doubting his ability to give you the life you deserve, began feeling insecurities he thought he had set aside.
He tried his best to remain calm, and for the most part, it worked. Everyone did not find something amiss when Kaeya was interacting with them before the wedding, but someone did, and that someone took him by his arm and dragged him a far and secluded corner after excusing him from who he was conversing with.
“Stop fidgeting with your tie, it’s beginning to bother me.”
Kaeya let out a huff. “Master Diluc, what a . . . surprise that you’re here.”
“You sent me an invitation.” The red head retaliated.
Kaeya had indeed sent him an invitation but he had no recollection of this or whatsoever. He was too wasted to remember.
“The Cavalry Captain losing his cool. Now this is a wedding just waiting to be ruined.”
It was almost like magic how the anxiety that has been eating him up vanished at his brother’s taunt. Kaeya glared at Diluc, opening his mouth to retaliate but before he can even let a single word move past his lips, Diluc turned his back to him and returned to the cathedral, leaving Kaeya in disbelief.
He let out a huff as he stared at his brother’s retreating form. “Bastard still knows me best.”
Kaeya has taken the reins over his emotions again, and he was sure he can keep his composure when you enter through the doors. But he was thoroughly mistaken as he swallowed the lump in his throat when his sight landed on you.
It felt like a dream. How can someone like you love him? In all his flaws, mistakes, and faults, how did you see him as someone you can lean on? Someone you want to spend the rest of your life with?
Surely, he must be dreaming. He’ll wake up in his bed any moment now and realize that everything had been the foolishness of his mind -
Except you continued making your way down aisle, and then you were in front of him with a veil covering your flushed face, and then he was slipping his hands in yours. This was real. You love him.
You leaned forward to him, nose brushing against his. “You look very dashing today, Kaeya.”
Kaeya chuckled. “And you look splendid today, Mrs. Alberich - oh, don’t go shy on me now.”
His smile broadened at the sight of your reddening cheeks. If it wasn’t for the priest speaking right now, he would have flipped over your veil and kiss you.
But there is plenty of time to do that. Kaeya will make sure of that.
     XINGQIU
          The youngest of the Guhua Clan will rarely be seen without a novel in hand. Everyday, Xingqiu will be seen with his friends with a book near him, always different from yesterday. He had read many novels and heard stories from storytellers, but one story he will never get tired of was his story with you.
       Although it may not seem like it, Xingqiu was a hopeless romantic, and he has always imagined seeking a woman to make his bride. However, it will always be something he can only imagine. As a heir of the Guhua Clan, he has responsibilities to keep and adhere, and he has willingly accepted this. Being given the freedom to choose his bride is something he cannot afford. When his father has informed him about offering him to a daughter of another prestigious clan, he has voiced his discontentment and disinclination to the arrangement but has nonetheless followed.
                  What a horror it would have been if he had followed through with the tiny voice inside his head saying to run away because if he did, he would have missed the chance of laying eyes on you and experiencing what many romance novels he read called – a heart skipping a beat.
           It was a tiring charade of formalities and display of pristine etiquette. All Xingqiu wanted was to retreat to a secluded area and continue immersing himself in the book he has picked up from the local library. With how often he reads, the novels in his own house he has already read, twice.
                                And so, he did. He kindly excused himself from the dinner between the families, making up a lie about feeling unwell and needing rest, and hurried over in the fields near his place. It is not exactly rude for him to skip dinner. It is not exactly ideal for his bride-to-be to be late in an important occasion like this so why shouldn’t he exhibit the same treatment as they did to him?
                    When he came to the spot be frequented, he caught sight of an unfamiliar figure from afar. A girl around his age sat on the bench under the tree, in the same spot he always occupied. She wore clothes similar to the families of the clan his family are negotiating with, so it didn’t take long for Xingqiu to learn this girl was related to them. He just didn’t know what her standing was with them.
 She was beautiful, he will admit, but it was the book in her hand that caught his attention. Thus, he approached her, adorning a friendly mask as to not scare her away. It is rather uncomfortable meeting strangers in the dark of the night and somewhere far from civilization.
           “Her hair billowed as she stood by the precipice, golden hues dimming in the dying light as she was left disappointed for yet another century. Her tears stung her skin and her throat tightened, but another century is simply common for someone like her. She will wait for his return, even if every mountain has eroded and all that was left of her was hope.” He recited a line from the novel as he took even ambles towards the girl, and he did not falter as she turned to face him. He offered her a smile and bowed with the elegance that his family taught. “Apologies for my disruption, my liege, but I can’t help but be thrilled to see someone with such incredible taste for literature. Not many are fond of historical fiction. Well, in my case, not many are into literature.”
                                        Her eyes appraised him with wonder as she perfected her posture. “That’s one of the lines in the book. My, even I haven’t memorized a single phrase from any of the books in my collections.” She remarked.
                                “I like to memorize a line or two from all the books I’ve read. It feels like a part of them will always be with me even if my memories fade in time.” Xingqiu gestured to the vacant spot beside her. “May I sit next to you?”
     She let out a laugh, to which sent shivers down Xingqiu’s spine. “You may. It’s not everyday I get to speak with someone with the same interests as me.”
                      He gladly seated himself beside her and immediately, he was greeted with the fragrance of flowers.
                    The girl extended her hand to him, smilingly softly at him. “My name is ( Your Name ),” She introduced herself. “You’re probably thinking you haven’t seen me around in Liyue, and you’re right. My family is here to meet with the Guhua Clan.”
                                                      Xingqiu took her hand and pressed a chaste kiss on the back. “Glad to make your acquaintance, my lady. My name is Xingqiu from the Guhua Clan.”
      Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgment. “Is that so?” She mused. “Then, I must show my sincerest gratitude for letting my family into – ”
               “Ah, there’s no need for that,” Dismissed Xingqiu as he shook his head. “We’re far from the dinner they’re sharing together. No need to be so formal with me.”
          Her smile brightened. “I have a feeling we’re going to get along splendidly, Xingqiu.”
                        Upon returning together to his house and finding an excuse as to why Xingqiu had been outside did he and ( Your Name ) learn that it was them who were destined to be married when they are of age. The disappointment of meeting his soon-to-be bride has dissipated at the revelation, leaving him filled with utmost joy and pride as to having you as his, and from the shy and gleeful smile that wandered to your lips, Xingqiu can tell you think the same with him.
It was to be expected that the two of you will have a luxurious and grand wedding. With the two of you coming from wealthy families, it was no surprise. If you have insisted for a small wedding consisting only of close relatives and friends, your parents will fear some other elite clans will perceive this as them losing power and money and will take advantage of them or simply cut ties with them. You and Xingqiu had no other choice but to respect their requests. Although Xingqiu was secretly relieved you agreed to a big wedding. For him, you deserved only the best of the best, and in this case, larger is better.
Both families came to an agreement that it would be for the best if the two of you are not to see each other for the week before your wedding day. You found nothing wrong with this arrangement. Xingqiu, however, was the opposite of you.
Many times he tried to sneak out of his house to visit you in secret but Chongyun has thwarted this attempts many times. When he goes to adventures with the Traveler, he find himself missing you in mere hours. How can he survive a whole week without communicating with you?
Oh, how foolish of him. He was now allowed to visit you but he can, however, write letters to you.
For the whole week, Xingqiu will be writing to you without ceasing. You’ll have a difficult time keeping up with his letters but you’ll always find time to respond to him. After all, you missed him just as much as he missed you.
Xingqiu woke up before the sun can call for him. He walked around in his room, breathing in and out as he tried to soothe his joy. Chongyun, who was tasked to look after Xingqiu for the whole week, woke up from the sound of his footsteps. When he stepped inside his best friend’s room, Xingqiu held Chongyun’s hands and twirled him around, startling the half-asleep Cryo user.
“I’m getting married to ( Your Name ) today!”
“I know, Xingqiu. I’ve been stopping you from visiting her the whole week.”
Your wedding was held in a beautiful garden where cherry blossoms flutter and the wind was gentle and cool.
Xingqiu always held his composure in any situations and circumstances he encountered. But he was going to admit that seeing you in your wedding dress with the cherry blossoms kissing your skin and tresses every now and then had him malfunctioning.
It took a worse turn when you finally stood before him, expectantly looking at him. A compliment, a playful jest, a seductive remark - but there was none of that.
Xingqiu stared at you, eyes shining with admiration and his lips parted in pleasant surprise.
“Xingqiu, earth to Xingqiu,” You whispered. “You there?”
It was only after you spoke that Xingqiu snapped out of his stupor.
“Get yourself together, Xingqiu.” Stated Chongyun beside him in a whisper.
It took him a while to find him bearings but when he did, Xingqiu smiled at you and pressed a kiss on your forehead.
“Beautiful, just like the first time I saw you.”
     SCARAMOUCHE
            Scaramouche has dedicated his entire life to seeing through what his majesty, the Tsaritsa, desired. His life shall be nothing but a pawn for her to use in her schemes and may her will be done through him and her subjects. If she must dispose of him to make success of her endeavor, Scaramouche will gladly surrender before her eyes and bare his neck for her to cut. He will do anything she commands without a second thought, and anyone who dares get in his way will face the wrath of an incensed Harbinger.                
         It was all about the Tsaritsa. His entire his existence is for his majesty. It was all he ever believed in when the honor of being the sixth Harbingers was crowned over him. With that said, Scaramouche can never bring himself to admit his resolve has been altered upon his discreet visitation to the City of Freedom to conduct a more intimate investigation over the meteorites and the impact it had on the people of Mondstadt.
                      His skull was throbbing, his thoughts scattered, and frustration was beginning to settle inside of him. Scaramouche has just dispatched his soldiers to continue their research on the meteors after his failed attempt to eliminate the traveler. He was left alone in the tranquility of the night, with the remnants of the astrologist’s escape glittering beneath his eyes, mocking him.
     “I should have acted quicker. The Traveler will continue foiling The Tsaritsa’s plans.” Mumbled Scaramouche to himself. “No matter. There will be another chance in the future to finish off the hero of Mondstadt, and I’m sure it’ll come sooner than I expect. I must prepare for that time. I can’t make this mistake again.”
                  A curious hum that echoed behind him had him stiffening in his place and drawing out his weapon from thin air. “Are you interested about the meteors too?” A voice asked.
          Scaramouche turned around, and he found a woman standing behind him a few meters away. She has a beauty that he favors, a smile so gentle that it thawed a bit of ice in his heart, but a scowl made its way to his countenance. She’s taller than me.
  She didn’t look particularly like anyone he would have any interest in knowing, and when she has introduced herself to him after he supplied her with no answer, Scaramouche predicted correctly. She was merely an ordinary folk in any ordinary city with no Vision or any skillset that could benefit him in anything.
                                                    “I must get going.” Curtly stated Scaramouche and he turned around without even bidding goodbye to the woman.
                          “So soon?” You asked. “I thought we could at least talk what’s been happening – about the meteors, the stars.”
              Scaramouche frowned at the mention of the latter and he spun back around to meet your gaze. “The stars? What about the stars?”
                                        You smiled a secret smile. “The stars . . . they’re fake.”
         Scaramouche stared at you with wonder and amusement in his dark hues. He has always believed in that notion, and only a handful came to agree with him. Now, here a lady stands before him, with nothing in particular to offer him, speaking of the truth many has rejected.
                      He examined you from head to toe, evaluating your form before beckoning you to come over to him, saying, “Perhaps I can spare some time to talk.”
                  What was supposed to be a conversation within an hour or so has extended for a day, and when you requested to accompany him back to ship docked in Liyue Harbor to continue your conversation (it surprised him but has nonetheless allowed you to tag along) about the meteors and the stars, it dragged on for weeks.
     But Scaramouche would be lying if he said that was all you discussed about. There was only so much information they can relate to the subject that has intertwined their fates that it did not take long for the two of you to stray from it to favor a more civil conversation. He learned of your mundane life back in Mondstadt where you were merely another dot in the bustle of the city and he managed to extract from you valuable material regarding the Honorary Knight (in truth, you have willingly told him everything you knew about the Hero of Mondstadt and this he was very pleased with). He learned about your family, your work, your past, and your ambition to adventure throughout the lands of Teyvat even without a Vision.
                He thought it was foolish of you to believe you can ever get out of your city without a Vision. There were too many enemies that a simple adventurer like you could easily be overwhelmed with. Not to mention the Fatuis that he and his fellow Harbingers has placed all throughout Teyvat. The thought of you getting hurt, especially by his own soldiers . . . it did not sit right with him.
                                 Arriving at Liyue Harbor, Scaramouche proposed that you come with him. It is no secret that anyone who do not possess a Vision cannot survive if they were ever to embark on a journey. Hearing your desire for an adventure, Scaramouche has come to decide that as gratitude for your pleasant company and for your compliance in giving him information about the renowned traveler, he shall take you along in his voyage, showing you the grandest landscapes, granting your every need and desires, all the while keeping you at his side where he was certain you were safe.
    It was all to thank you, nothing else. It wasn’t because Scaramouche knew he would find himself missing you and the comfort you bring when you leave, nor was it because he was fond of you. Yes, yes, all just to show his gratitude.
              As his soldiers watched as Scaramouche led you aboard in ship with his hand interlocked with yours, they thought the same thing – Scaramouche is never the one to show gratitude to anyone. You had him smitten.
How you were able to fall in love with Scaramouche in such a short period of time is fascinating. Especially with his horrid personality.
But he was different with you. He was gentle, caring, and never raised his voice. The insults remained but there was no venom behind them. It took you quite some time to get used to his belittling remarks but it didn’t evade your perception how Scaramouche begun lessening his insults, opting for a more playful jab instead.
He proposed to you over at dinner. He had just come back from an expedition and came home to a table filled with your cooking. As the two of you are exchanging your stories of what went with your lives when you two were separated, Scaramouche placed his chopsticks away, looked at you straight in the eyes and said, “Marry me.”
How can you say no to such a romantic proposal?
Actually, you made him redo his proposal before you accepted but nobody else has to know about that.
There was no best man for Scaramouche in your wedding. The man was feared by everyone, and his fellow Harbingers hated him. Childe did insist on being his best man at one point but he almost ended up being fried by a lightning bolt. Apparently, the 11th Harbinger pestered him for a whole week trying to convince him to let him be the best man so his actions were justified - just a little bit.
You have to give it to Scaramouche. Regardless of his busy schedule and the current predicament in Inazuma, he managed to find time and opportunity to plan your wedding and marry you without having to worry about the Electro Archon and her subjects.
Scaramouche scoffed at the tradition of not being able to see you on the very day of your wedding. What good would it be? You were going to be his wife, and he wanted to see his wife. He saw himself above tradition, and visited you first thing in the morning at the day of the wedding.
It was no question Scaramouche was an authoritative man but he was more so as he prepared himself for the wedding.
His maids ran about in the room, providing everything he needed and wanted. Scaramouche was not known for being compassionate, but this was the first time they’ve been on the receiving end of his wrath. Normally, he would ignore their existence and not even bother to call them by their names but today, he was different. He acted worse than when he comes home after a failed mission.
The maids knew he was beyond frustrated with the wedding. So, they called to ask for your help.
“Scaramouche, you’re scaring the maids.” You cooed as you came up behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders.
Scaramouche let out a scoff, but you felt his frame soften. He sat before a mirror, and he gazed at your reflection as he placed a hand over one of yours. “Even they weren’t so terrible with their jobs . . . ”
“You’re making things so hard for them. And for yourself too.” You stated. “Marrying me shouldn’t be hard, should it?”
That statement set Scaramouche right, and when you left to carry on with your own preparation and the maids returned to their duties, he was more civil with them. If that’s what you want, then he can endure it.
The hour has finally arrived. Scaramouche has faced many dangers in his life, but it was only now he felt restless. What is taking you so long? He thought you wanted to marry him. Then what’s warranting your late arrival?
At that thought, you finally appeared by the end of the aisle, holding a bouquet in your hands. Everyone in the venue gaped at your beauty, and Scaramouche was thankful you had everyone gazing at you. He didn’t want them to see the dumbfounded and poorly hidden lovestruck expression that crossed his mien for a moment.
But a sense of pride also touched him. 
That’s my bride.
When the ceremony begins, you and Scaramouche were seated side by side. You smiled brightly at him when you sat, but he didn’t any indication that he saw your smile and continued giving his undivided attention on the person conducting your wedding. You pouted heavily at this but said nothing and followed his actions. However, your smile returned when you felt his fingers hooking with yours. It was a small improvement, but it was intimate and loving.
Scaramouche didn’t cry in your wedding but when his arms held you tightly to his chest when evening came and two of you lied down on your shared bed, it was enough for you to know he loved you as much as you loved him.
Maybe more so.
     RAZOR
   Razor rarely experience human interaction, and if he did, it would be abrupt and depending on how the communication was being dealt by both parties, it would either be Razor who parts from them first out of wariness or lacking knowledge of being social or the other would, most of the time for the reason they find it disturbing a human could act so much like a wolf. The humans Razor constantly encounter are the hunters from Springvale and due to their bellowing voices and violence against his Lupicals, he has limited his ventures to Mondstadt unless something calls for an emergency.
        Other than the man who gave him his name, Razor only knew a handful of people – six of them being the Traveler, Traveler’s companion, Bennett, Klee, her big brother Albedo, and the woman he sees as his mentor, Lisa. He can only ever let his guard down when around them, though he was still a wee bit cautious of Albedo whenever Klee drags him to his camp.
                          He didn’t think he could meet anyone else who can consider a Lupical. That was until he met you. You were taking a peaceful stroll around Wolvendom – Archons know why you chose the most avoided place in Mondstadt to walk through – at the same time he was hunting down boars for his Lupicals.
  There was no rescuing or danger involved when he met you. It was a simple encounter, to which Razor was pleasantly surprised with. In almost all occasions, when he is meeting a fellow human being, it would be under rather unusual circumstances. He met the Traveler and her floating friend when they were being attacked by slimes. He met Lisa when she has painted the skies dark as she was singlehandedly fending herself off from a mob of Hilichurls. He met Klee when she was using her bombs to fish. He met Albedo in the middle of a chaotic experiment to which resulted in an evacuation. He met Bennett when he was hanging upside down from a tree when he tried to take an apple from a high branch, and the tree was up in flames.
                   To say, meeting you normally was a breath of fresh air.
      The two of you hit it off almost immediately, or so that is what it seems to you. Although you consider Razor a good friend even in just the few days you have met, he was still very careful of you. He had been deceived by humans before and it may be a little unfair to you since he trusted the Traveler and Bennett almost in an instant, he must first know you are trustworthy.
  And indeed, you’ve proven yourself as such. Perhaps, more so than the Traveler. You have done everything to show him you have no ill intentions against him and his Lupicals – helped him in hunting for sustenance for his family even if you have to knowledge in hunting, helping him broaden his vocabulary, helping him read and write – but it was your sacrifice to protect them that made him truly open himself up to you.
             An Abyss Mage has appeared out of nowhere and has wreaked havoc in their residence. Razor can feel his heart thundering as he raced through Wolvendom along with a few of his Lupicals who he had gone out with to hunt. Upon arriving at their home, Razor has anticipated to see the grass painted with red and wounded wolves whimpering in pain as others try to battle against the Abyss Mage. But to his relief, such image was not implemented into reality. Instead, he found his Lupicals sleeping soundly in their den, and the remains of the Abyss Mage has slowly evaporated in thin air. As the particles gradually disappeared, they made way for your presence to be revealed.
           Razor let out a gasp when he laid eyes on you. Bruised, bleeding, exhausted, but smiling as you happily waved at him with the hand clutching your weapon.
                              You happily advanced towards him, tittering. Razor reached out to take your hand, and reluctantly asked of your welfare. Now he understood why humans ask how one is fairing when they are clearly unwell – they do not know what else to say.
                      “Why would you do that?” Razor questioned as he brought you far from his den to tend to your wounds without waking his family. “You are hurt now.”
    “I can’t let an Abyss Mage hurt your Lupical.” You answered firmly, the smile you wore dissipating as you gazed into his eyes. “I might not be as strong as the Honorary Knight or Acting Grand Master Jean, but I fought well.”
               What was this odd sensation he was feeling? This strong urge to protect you, to take you in his arms and never let you go – what was this? He has never felt like this before. So light, so . . . flustered. He thought this feeling would be gone after a few days, but months has passed and since then, the feeling became more prominent, stronger. All the time he could never get enough of you and there will always be that lingering trickle of pain in his chest when you have to leave for the day. Razor knew you would come back the day after when the night has gone, but it never stopped that little ache.
                          Razor understood that he lacked understanding of feelings, so he confided to Bennett about it. Bennett was almost as clueless as Razor about feelings – almost – but he did know when someone was taking a liking of someone in a more amorous manner. He has filled Razor about exactly what he was feeling for you, and not the kind of feeling that he has for him and the Traveler, but the kind of liking he would have towards a . . . girlfriend? (Bennett had to explain to him the meaning behind girlfriend and it was no easy task).
            “Liking someone like a girlfriend . . . ” Razor muttered, scrunching his face in puzzlement. “ . . . like a mate?”
                                 Bennett flushed at the word but nodded. “Yes, like a mate.”
                                                Bennett tried his best to help Razor confess to you, and this is where disaster happened. Since Razor is mostly uneducated in terms of romantic feelings, he did not feel any anxiety crawling up to him when he decided to admit his feelings to you. The problem is that he has decided to confess in a wrong time and in a difficult situation.
       “You should confess to her after you’ve saved her from danger!” Exclaimed Bennett, beaming at Razor.
                   The latter tilted his head to the side. “Razor doesn’t . . . get it.”
    “Well, in the books I’ve read, the guys confess to the girls they like in a dangerous time. I don’t know how that’s safe, but it works. But since we don’t want to hurt ( Your Name ), you’ll save her before confessing!”
                    Bless his innocent heart, Razor trusted Bennett’s word without a smidge of doubt. His opportunity to admit his feelings came when the two of you saw Reckless Pallad being surrounded by Hilichurls getting ready to pounce on him. The thing is you too knew your way around a battlefield and have efficiently begun fighting off the Hilichurls. Razor watched as you made quick work of rescuing Reckless Pallad and he didn’t even notice himself beginning to pout in disappointment until you were right in front of him again, worriedly gazing at him.
             “Razor, what’s wrong?” You questioned, appraising him. “You’re not injured, are you?”
                                     He shook his head. “Razor not injured.” He confirmed.
        “Well, that’s good, but why aren’t you moving? We need to save that man.”
                            “Razor wanted to confess to ( Your Name ) by saving her.”
       Razor explained the plan of his confession he conspired with Bennett, how he would save you from danger and tell you his everlasting love that he didn’t notice the redness tinting your cheeks and the wide smile stretching across your face.
           Razor only took note of the phenomenon occurring on your features when he has finished elaborating his scheme. He narrowed his eyes curiously. “Your face is all . . . red. Sick?” He asked.
                                                                         Razor didn’t have a chance to further speculate just exactly was ailing you before you took hold of his face and softly placed your lips against him, catching him off guard.
                                      There was a blossom in his chest when you kissed him – this is love, right? Razor decided there and then he liked this feeling of love.
                      Needless to say, Reckless Pallad was left alone for the Traveler to save. Again.
Razor had no idea what weddings were. He has never heard of such thing before. The first time he did learn about it was when he was hanging out with you and the Traveler. The latter mentioned that you and him are invited in a wedding. Razor tilted his head in confusion but when he turned to ask you what it was, he froze. Your eyes were shimmering with joy and excitement. Razor liked seeing you like that.
So when you were preoccupied, Razor asked the Traveler what a wedding was. Perhaps a wedding was some sort of food that he can find in the wild?
After Traveler has explained what weddings are and the concept of marriage as well, Razor did not waste time trying to propose to you. Since he had no money to buy a very expensive ring, he asked Bennett for help to find materials so he can make one of his own. In the end, they had Wagner help them form a ring. It wasn’t exactly the best looking but when Razor showed it to you and asked for your hand in marriage (Traveler helped him with his proposal speech and had to explain that asking for your hand doesn’t mean literal), and he saw the pure joy on your face, he thought it was pretty enough for you.
Razor didn’t know you were happy mostly because he proposed to you but you didn’t tell him. He looked so proud with the ring.
Your wedding was small and only a very few people were invited. Klee insisted on being one of the flower girls and Razor almost agreed until she began spouting about bombs which will detonate in the air and will explode with flowers. Albedo advised Razor not to make her one of the flower girls because Klee, for sure, will bring flower bombs (it will explode with flowers, but the explosion is still there).
Razor chose Bennett as his best man. That was supposed to be a good thing but when the two of those pair up together, they can tend to cause a lot of chaos, unintentionally.
At the day of the wedding, nearly all the invitees refuse to enter the cathedral as they claim there was danger inside. When Kaeya and Jean came to inspect this danger they speak of, both wielded their weapons once seeing a pack of wolves huddled at the front, just before the altar, with Bennett and Razor telling them to behave.
You had to explain to Razor why it was dangerous and made people uncomfortable when there are wolves present in the cathedral. Although Razor was understandably disappointed by this, he conceded and brought his Lupicals back to Wolvendom. To make it up to him, you promised a private celebration will be held in Wolvendom with nobody else but you, him, Bennett, and of course, his Lupicals.
Razor didn’t know why Bennett seemed more nervous than him when the two of them were standing by the altar. 
“I’m going to ruin your wedding, Razor! Aren’t you worried?”
“ . . . but you not ruining anything . . . ?”
When you finally arrived in the cathedral, Razor felt excitement surge in his body and he can hardly stop himself from squirming on his seat. 
But he wasn’t smiling. These emotions . . . he was having a hard time comprehending them. It was good, it was nice, but it was overwhelmingly so.
He could have cried, and he almost did but when you were before him, smiling at him, he couldn’t help but smile back.
His beautiful wife, his Lupical.
Bennett was the one who cried in your wedding.
     ALBEDO
                It was always a fascinating sight to see a traveler meandering through Dragonspine without minding the sheer cold or flawlessly fending themselves off from the enemies lurking around. Even Albedo has some degree of difficult in navigating his way back to his camp without the Fatui spotting him or tailing him. But it was more fascinating to see a young woman standing in the middle of a freezing lake with nothing but her trousers and her brassiere.
                            It was a peculiar meeting, yes, but out of the ordinary people and matters has always endeared him.
    Albedo brought you to his camp as quickly as he can and asked Timaeus to hand you a cup of warm tea and a blanket. After thanking him for his kindness and consuming half of the beverage generously given to you, you introduced yourself.
             You were an adventurer who came all the way from Liyue to embark on a journey to discover the harshness and secrets that laid within Dragonspine, a mountain many do not dare set foot further in. Other than the mentioned reasons, training was a top priority of yours. You claim one cannot go further in their adventure while being comfortable in their current, and he completely agrees with your statement. When Albedo questioned why you had been in the middle of a lake in Dragonspine, you answered that being able to withstand the cold was just part of your training and seeing as he had caught you shivering to close to death, it was not going well.
                            Albedo didn’t think he would see you again after you parted from him, but he was surprised when the next day he found you waiting for him in his camp, a smile on your face as you stand proudly and wave at him.
   Something about you piqued his interest, if his interest was somehow related to how his heart accelerated whenever you come close to him to offer help with his experiment, or when his face grows hot if you offer him a compliment. He thought it was your way of showing him your gratefulness for taking care of you yesterday, so he allowed your presence in his camp, around him. Albedo didn’t expect you to visit again the next day, and the day after that, and so on and so forth. But he can’t say he disliked your frequent visitations, or your presence that always seem to be following him everywhere he went. He very much liked your company and thoroughly enjoyed listening about your adventures and everything you came across in your adventure. They were a good distraction from his experiments. Everything about you set his mind in ease.
             It wasn’t long until the two of you are spending more time together alone. No experiments, no work in mind. It just the two of you keeping one another company and sharing stories about your days, and making banters here and there – whether it be in a walk under the moon, or sharing a meal in Good Hunter, or while he paints somewhere in Dragonspine.
                 Although Albedo was not well versed in the complexity of romance and has deemed relationships to be rather tedious to uphold, but he was knowledgeable enough to know that in the process of his growing friendship with you, he has caught feelings for you.
  This has certainly brought difficulty in his relationship with you. Albedo, although never verbally admitting so, has always thought of feelings as a nuisance. In a relationship, in his own observation, disadvantages trump over advantages. He had seen the irrationality that love has caused, the stupidity. His observation led him to one conclusion – other than being friends with people, relationships is not for him.
           You have put him in a challenging situation. It would have been easy to cut ties with you if you haven’t successfully infiltrated his walls and snaked your way in his heart. The very thought of pushing you away was repulsive to him. Seeing the hurt cross your features – it will haunt him for the rest of his life.
                      The interest he had for you was not interest at all. It was the beginning of love. He should have been more alert, and this wouldn’t have happened.
                                 What if you returned his feelings and your relationship did not work? There was no way your friendship could be salvaged. Isn’t it much better to remain as friends than risk ruining any chance of keeping you in his life?
  No, no, that would be insanely idiotic. It will eat him up. Thus, he treated his feelings for you like an experiment. Dipping carefully, testing the waters – confessing to you.
        He can construct a confession that will perfectly enunciate his feelings for you while emphasizing your freedom to reject him and his desire to remain good friends with you. Surely, you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. All he needed is for you to let him down, and he will hope you can still see him the same way after.
            All his preparations, however, were thrown out of the window when you beat him to confessing.
   Albedo had no idea how struck his expression must have been with puzzlement, anxiety and flatter as he attentively listens to every word that leaves your lips. His heart pounded at everything you were saying – everything he adored about you, you adored about him. Being unable to speak his mind felt foreign to him. After you finished your confession, a beautiful red hue coloring your cheeks as you looked into his eyes with hopefully eyes, all he can do his open his mouth a smidge, and close, and then open again. He must have resembled a goldfish at that time.
                      Albedo couldn’t believe it. You loved him, and here he was expecting to be rejected and thinking relationships were a waste of time.
                                          He was in a dilemma now. Accept your feelings as his heart desired to, or gently reject you for practicality? Having a lover would complicate his life and he will risk so many things that he were used to just to be able to keep his relationship with you fruitful. Was he ready for something like that?
           This was the first time Albedo has listened to his heart. He still remembered how he cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours, muffling the gasp that tumbled out of you.
                                Albedo might be a stranger to romance but he is an Alchemist and risks are part of his job, and risking coming out of his comfort to be with you was something you deserve, and maybe something he deserved as well.
You knew Albedo was going to propose to you. He was always immersed in his experiments and research that you took the responsibility of tidying up his lab. It did not take long for you to find a small black box nestled in the back inside a drawer filled with haphazardly thrown papers and used pens.
Albedo knew that you knew he was going to propose to you. The two of you were taking a peaceful stroll around Dragonspine and after a heartfelt speech, he knelt down to one knee, he curiously watched as you malfunctioned right in front of him, trying to elect which route of surprise should you take before displaying a less then satisfactory theatrics of surprise.
Nonetheless, the two of you are still happy.
You and Albedo agreed that the two of you will have a small and private wedding. Klee, however, did not. She was less than thrilled to hear about that and went on a whole spiel of the reasons why you should have the biggest and most fun wedding ever, as she said.
“ - then where will a really, really tall wedding cake and Klee is going to make a bomb that will explode in the skies where it will burst out many pretty flower petals - ”
Jean promised the two of you that she will keep an eye on her at the day of the wedding.
Albedo is adamant on two things - a small wedding, and having no best man, and the latter had two reasons. Although he is highly respected in Mondstadt, there was no one he could ask to be best man, and the second reason is that he loves you and is certain that marrying you is something he wants. No doubts. He didn’t need a best man helping him in something he didn’t need help with.
Albedo was also not someone to conform to the ritual of not seeing the bride on the day of the wedding until the very ceremony, but for you, he begrudgingly followed.
On the day of the wedding, Albedo prepared himself without the help of anyone. He prepared his own clothes and had Klee braid his hair (it was a wee bit sloppy and Albedo fixed them when she had her back turned to him and gave her all the credit).
The man reached for the door to visit you but he let out a sigh when he realized that he cannot. He made a promise that today, the first time he’ll see you is when you walk down the aisle. He has to keep his promise. Not to mention Klee blocked his way and reminded him of that (tried to block).
Albedo was a patient man. Patience was nothing new to him. His research and experiments needed patience or they will ultimately fail. It came to the point where being impatient made him uncomfortable. That’s exactly what was happening when he was standing at the altar. Nobody, not even the observant Kaeya himself, can tell Albedo was beginning to lose his patience.
The day had been a little too long. He wanted to see you already. It didn’t matter if the ceremony would take a while before he can kiss you and call you his wife. He just wanted to see you again.
Albedo turned away the moment you stepped inside the cathedral. You were far from repulsive or ugly (and he can never think of you like that), but he had to cast his gaze somewhere but on you. He knew you’ll be beautiful in your wedding dress, but seeing you now with your adorable and shy smile, with Cecilia flowers in your hands, and your eyes fixated on him and only him - Albedo nearly lost his composure.
This time he was sure Kaeya saw it.
“Waah, big sister ( Your Name ) looks soooo pretty!” Klee cooed loudly, causing the guests to let out a few chuckles of amusement.
His impatience was beginning to pierce through him. The moment you faced him, Albedo did not waste time grabbing your hands, and once he did, you saw him visibly soften, as though a huge burden was lifted from his shoulders.
“What happened to you?” You asked, giggling.
Albedo returned your smile. “I’m just very happy to see you.”
The fervor that he exuded when he kissed you certainly supported his statement.
THOSE WHO WILL HIDE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RECEPTION TO CRY SOMEWHERE NO ONE CAN SEE THEM
     CHONGYUN
    Chongyun was known for two things – being an exorcist and having a type of condition that needed his keen observation and awareness.
       He has always disliked his condition. Whenever his Yang energy overwhelms, he must immediately consume an icy treat to be able to soothe his nerves. But it seems he can be thankful for it for this one time. If it wasn’t for his congenital positivity, he wouldn’t have stumbled across you, and your hundred homemade ice cream you smuggled out of your own home.
                      Chongyun had been hurrying to meet his friend at that day. He had just finished an exorcism somewhere in Qingce Village and was rushing to where he and Xingqiu usually meet in Liyue. He was already running late, and who knows what Xingqiu will do if he was late again. He let out a pained yelp when he crashed against your form when he made a sharp turn, and his Yang energy has never been in a more unstable state than when he saw you seated on the ground, groaning in pain, with peculiar looking containers littering the floor around you.
                   Chongyun had profusely apologized for his actions and assisted you in gathering all the belongings he had knocked off your possession. He felt the coldness in the small containers you once held and wondered what was inside. He hasn’t seen anything like this before. He knew his Yang energy was starting to ooze out of him but he underestimated its manifestation until you placed your hand over his forehead. He pulled back away instantly, startled by your actions, to which you immediately apologized.
        “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He repeated, light blue hair bobbing with his movements as he bowed his head over to you again and again, mortification palpable on his features. “I-I didn’t mean to run – ”
                        “No, no, I should be the one apologizing! I wasn’t looking where I was going and I put my hand on you all of a sudden – ” You were about to continue spewing apologies and explanations when you froze, concern etching across his face. “ - oh, hey, you’re really, really red. Are you okay?”
                  Even when it had been years since his encounter with you, he still gets embarrassed when he remembered that, and you and Xingqiu tease him about it.
                                           He explained to you then about his condition and when you offered him a container you owned containing ice cream you made, that’s when your friendship begun. When the two of you snuck out to a secluded area in Liyue Harbor to gorge on the tons of ice cream you have once again brought out of your house despite your mother’s warnings did he know it would be a friendship that will last long. His only regret was that he introduced you to Xingqiu, and now he must endure double the teasing.
                       One thing he appreciated about you was how ready you were whenever you were with him. You made it your point to know what can cause his condition to act up and soothe him by your words, and always having ice cream with you. And the best part was that the ice cream you give him is always homemade, made by you. His popsicles could never compete to your masterpiece.
    He never really thought of you as someone he would be romantically interested in. Sure, there were instances when his Yang energy would flare up because of having you by his side, when your smile brought upon his own, when his heart raced when you held his hand as the two of you were returning from a commission, when he gazed at you with adoration when you took care of him and fed him cold noodles when he was having a fever (he refused to eat hot noodles even in his illness). Surely, all friends do that with one another, right? And feeling this odd sensation in his chest was normal, right?
                      When he confided in Xingqiu with this, the boy laughed at his cluelessness. It wasn’t surprising. Chongyun did not have a lot of friends so distinguishing friendship and romance was not easy for him. The Hydro Vision holder filled him in with everything he has to know about relationships, and he used some pretty unconventional ways like giving him a too descriptive image of how a man and woman would kiss, and other explicit doings of adults.
         But it did bring light one thing – Chongyun liked you, and of course how he handled such revelation was, simply put, disastrous.
                                      His entire body felt hot, and he was stammering to the point even the ever so eloquent Xingqiu cannot understand him. Normally, when things get like this, he’ll rush over to your place and request for some of your delicious ice cream but seeing as you were somehow part of the reason for this, he had to rely on Xingqiu to take care of him.
                      After learning about his feelings for you, Chongyun have never been more uneasy around you, which was odd, and he was sure you’ve noticed, and yet has never dropped any comment about it.
                     He was always nervous around you. Blushing whenever you come close to him, jumping when you take his hand in his, stammering whenever you praise him for anything, feeling the need to run away if you ask him about how he was fairing – he has lost count just how many popsicles he has eaten just to keep his cool. He has stopped asking ice cream from you and declined any offer from you because he thought accepting your homemade ice creams could lead him to falling deeper in love with you until he couldn’t move on anymore.
             Chongyun didn’t notice your growing impatience. He was so immersed in his own feelings that he didn’t take into consideration how you felt whenever he flinched away from your touch and rejected your treats.
   It took Xingqiu for the growing tension between the two of you to alleviate. He made an elaborate plan to get the two of you together in an isolated place (a broom closet) and has made a claim not to let any of you go until the two of you have confessed your feelings with each other.
                      “Just tell me what’s wrong with you, Chongyun! Why are you acting so weird around me?” You asked him but he refused to answer you just as he refused to look at you.
      You let out a sigh as you reached out to take his hand but when he pulled away from your touch, that was the last straw.
               “If you don’t want to be friends with me anymore, just say so.”
          Alarmed, Chongyun faced you, stuttering. “No! Of course, I want to be friends with you - I mean, I don’t want to be friends - wait, that sounded wrong, and so bad - ”
   Your brows burrowed together in question. “You want to be friends but you don’t want to be friends?”
   Chongyun groaned as he buried his face on his hands. It’s now or never.
                “I like you, ( Your Name ).”
           The silence that followed was deafening for Chongyun. He removed his hands from his face and prepared himself to apologize and beg to continue being friends when he felt hands cup his face, and your lips pressing against his. It was a good thing you had ice cream on you even after he avoided you for weeks. He almost fainted in your arms if it wasn’t for you shoving a finger in his mouth with a scoop of ice cream. 
                                   It was one of the few times Chongyun was grateful for Xingqiu’s interest in romantic tropes because if it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t have left that room with a blushing but happy face with you.
      Xingqiu smirked as the two of you exited the room, hand in hand and redness coating your cheeks. “Well, well, well, look who - ”
                    “Shut up, Xingqiu,” You and Chongyun chorused. The two of you looked at each other out of surprise and then burst out laughing, all the while the Hydro Vision user stood by the side, sighing.
         “Now, I have to deal with these two’s teasing.”
When Chongyun realized he was ready to propose to you after years of being together, he asked Xingqiu to propose to you on his behalf.
His best friend nearly destroyed his book from whacking the Cryo user for thinking such an inane idea could work. Not only was it not romantic, it was also inappropriate. Xingqiu had to reprimand him for an entire hour proposing that idea but being a good best friend that he is despite his mischievous streak, he vowed to help the man propose to you.
It was no easy task and there were times where Chongyun held himself back and risking yet another proposal plan. He was thankful Xingqiu was well versed with romance and everything entailed with it and knew more ways to help him. After a countless of delays, Chongyun managed to get down on one knee one fine evening by the trails leading to Liyue Harbor, spew out affirmation of his love for you in stammers, and asked for your hand in marriage.
When you accepted his proposal and adorned your finger with the ring, Chongyun discreetly showed a thumbs up to a nearby bush. About three hands popped out from the leaves, offering the same action.
Xingqiu let out a sigh as Xiangling and Xinyan giggled. “Finally.” He breathed out. “Now, time for me to be his best man.”
Of course, Chongyun chose him as his best man. Who else would be a better choice than him? 
Chongyun is firm about Xingqiu being his best man but sometimes he can be a little bit . . . pushy, especially when it comes to something he believes in.
There was a tradition where he cannot see you for a whole week until the ceremony. Chongyun was mildly bothered by this arrangement but nonetheless, since you agree with it, he will respect your wishes and do the same. Xingqiu has over and over again tried to persuade him to visit you at home, and he made some interesting points why he should. He almost convinced him a few times but in the end, he refused to be lured in his trap and stopped the temptation of breaking his promise.
He missed you dearly, yes, and his patience will surely be rewarded soon.
Chongyun, as expected, was freaking out at the day of wedding. Marriage is a huge step for the both of you. You’re not going to regret marrying him, will you? What if this marriage didn’t work? He’ll lose you for you.
Xingqiu had to guide him away from the altar and to a corner for privacy. Other than you, Xingqiu was a person who had been when his condition start acting up and how it worked.
After successfully cooling him down with a popsicle, Xingqiu consoled Chongyun. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about back there but you have nothing to worry about. ( Your Name ) loves you.”
“What if it doesn’t work between us?”
“It will. I’ve seen how you two are. You’re perfect for each other. I think you already know that, and ( Your Name ) does too. Why would she accept your proposal if she didn’t think the two of you wouldn’t prosper together?”
Chongyun murmured. “Pity?”
If Xingqiu had a book with at that moment, he would have smacked Chongyun again.
Once his condition has subsided, Chongyun returned to the altar and Xingqiu stood behind him, waiting.
The moment you arrived, Chongyun can feel himself heating up and his heart pounding against his chest. It felt like his condition was acting up but he wasn’t feeling nauseous or at the edge of fainting. It was a pleasant sort of warmth, the warmth he felt when he first met you.
No. It was the same warmth that travels through his body whenever he sees you, but this time, it was stronger to the point he it almost felt like his condition.
Your smile immediately disappeared when you saw Chongyun flushed red and his eyes averting from yours.
Worry encapsulated you. “Is your condition acting up?” You asked in a whisper.
Chongyun blinked, puzzled. “What?”
Discreetly taking a gander at the audience completely unaware of your interaction, you slipped your hand under your dress and showed Chongyun was a small ice cream container.
“I brought this with me just in case.”
Chongyun decided he made the best decision of his life to marry you.
He took your hands in his and pressed a small kiss on top of one.
“Thank you, love.”
After the wedding, Chongyun immediately visited the comfort room. You tried to follow him but Xingqiu told you there was nothing to worry about, and he was right.
When he entered the comfort room, Chongyun locked the door behind him and headed straight to the sink to splash some water on his face.
One won’t be able to tell Chongyun was crying from the water streaming down his face.
He looked up at the mirror, staring at his reflection as he let out a small, and content sigh.
“I’m married. I’m married to her.” Chongyun tried to hold back his smile, but he failed. “She’s my . . . wife.”
And did it sound nice to call you his wife.
     XIAO
              It was his duties to Rex Lapis, to the thriving land of Liyue, that kept Xiao grounded and his mind temporarily fleeting away from the karmic debts that weighed on his shoulders. If it had not been for the responsibilities laid down on him, he was sure to have succumb to the consequences of his bloodshed from the past long ago. It was the reason behind his creation, to serve the people of Liyue and protect them from any transgressors or anything that could potentially lead to their destruction, and it was all he knew. His existence was all for Liyue, and to seek out the desires of Rex Lapis and accomplish them no matter how difficult and by what means.
    Day and night he oversees every part of Liyue and hears every call of his name and seeks refuge in Wangshu Inn. It was a cycle that has never changed ever since the gruesome war between gods has taken place in Teyvat, and all was same until that night when he heard a cry for help from a distant place, and rescued a strange maiden from the peril she found herself in.
                          Love at first sight disgusted him the most. He can understand, to some degree, that mortals can fall in love with people they have built a caring and trusting relationship with but falling in love with someone who one has no dust of knowledge of their identity was simply unwise and incomprehensible. And yet there he was, leaping from the precipice of a soaring mountain and securing the mortal in the middle of her fall.
               Xiao had no clue why it felt like time has stopped and they have gently floated in the air as he took a gander at the woman in his arms. Scratches littered her features, and twigs adorned her mop of hair, but she still shone brighter than the stars and moon behind her.
   He did not let her speak to him after he has placed her safely on solid ground and he quickly took his leave without even a glance back.
                          When he had painted the lands of Teyvat red with the other Yakshas, he did not blink an eye or feel a bead of sweat trail on the side of his face. But that woman has caused his chest to flutter, and he always find himself thinking back to the day he had saved her. If he had been like any other mortal which has sleep as a necessity, he would find himself thinking of you every morning and every night, longing for another chance to meet you again. What has she done to him? He already has to carry the burden of his sins, and now he must endure this painful curse she casted on him?
              But it didn’t matter now. She was already long gone, for all he knows, and he doesn’t even know her name.
    Xiao already came to accept that she was merely going to fleet away from his mind, a distant memory that his heart will ache every time he remembers her. He had many regrets in his lifetime, and this leaving her behind without knowing her name is one of them.
                                    But it seems to him that Rex Lapis has taken favor of him and has graced his undeserving existence. Xiao had just exterminated a Hilichurl camp getting increasingly close to Wangshu Inn when his ears preened and his pupils dilated – that voice, the same voice that he never thought he’d hear again, was calling out for him again. He did not find the time to dispose of the monsters in a more appropriate location where they will no longer continue their venture towards the inn, and quickly made his way to where he heard her.
           When he arrived, it did not take long for him to spot her standing perfectly still in front of him, hands behind her back. His eyes dilated as he took in her familiar form. Her tresses were no longer matted with twigs and mud, the scratches that once marred her skin no longer present, and a smile has replaced the cowering fear that adorned her visage before.
                   Xiao ignored the increasing heartbeat that drummed against his chest and surveyed the area with a flick of his spear. “There’s no danger.” He remarked after assessing the parameter, his mask dissipating into the night as he returned his gaze back at her.
       She rubbed her arm as she averted her eyes from him. “I spent months trying to find you again.” The mortal woman murmured. “When all has failed, I thought back to that night you saved me, and I called – and you came.”
                                         Xiao did not speak another word, but he was afraid that you can hear how loud his heart was racing. He needed to ignore his selfishness, he needed to leave. “If you’re not in any danger, then I’ll be leaving.”
  He turned around to do as he said, but his eyes widened when he felt your hand around his wrist.
                “Wait, please,” She pleaded, and when he looked over his shoulder, any resolve of leaving her again vanished. She was looking at him with hopeful and vibrant orbs. How can he ever let her down when she’s looking at him like that?
      Xiao let out a sigh and turned back around to meet her properly, but her hand never left him. Were you afraid he might disappear as quickly as he did like last time?
                                    “Don’t go.”
                   “Why not?” Xiao questioned. “If you know anything about an Adeptus, then you understand my duties.”
              She bit her lip as he withdrew her hold. Xiao missed the warmth she gave him already. “I know that but . . . ” She trailed off. “ . . . can I . . . at least know your name?”
                                                Xiao did not give her an answer.
            “Even if we never meet again, I want to at least know the name of man who saved me.” She mumbled softly. “But I’m afraid if I ever know your name, I’ll never get to think of any other man but you.”
                                                    Xiao appraised you, taking in her apprehensive frame. A mortal has fallen in love with an Adeptus? This was preposterous. He saved her months ago, and back then they shared little time together. Too little to gain feelings for him.
    But still, he found himself relenting to your wishes.
                                     “Xiao,” He answered. “My name is Xiao.”
            Don’t look for another man. I’m here. I’m staying.
                   That’s how he met his first and last love, ( Your Name ).
Xiao has lived in Teyvat for thousands of years and is knowledgeable of the culture of mortals, one of them being marriage. He had witnessed humans bounding themselves to another, promising to cherish them, protect them, to love them. For Xiao, marriage is something far from disgusting. Although he cannot understand the need for them to be together under an oath, it was undeniable that many great things and opportunities birthed from them.
However, no matter how beautiful it is for them, it will never stop perplexing Xiao. How is it that one can look at another and know that they’re the one? Are they not afraid to be betrayed? Are humans so willing to have themselves get hurt and offer forgiveness for the sake of love? It’s confusing for him.
Not until you came along that it made sense. Every argument, every disagreement, sleepless nights, every sincere apology, every countless forgiveness, every embrace, every kiss - is this what mortals feel? If so, he’ll endure all the hardships of love if it means staying by your side, and he knew that you feel the same.
Unfortunately, Xiao is not one for marriage.
Not that he does not love you - oh Archons, because he did, deeply so - but the consequences of your relationship always hang in front of him.
 It’s already a risk to let you in his heart and love someone as sinful as him, but the thought of you bearing his karmic debt terrified him.
What happens if the two of you are bound together, and under a contract that Rex Lapis will surely oversee? Will the demons that torment him sink their teeth on your pure and innocent soul? Will he see the life in your eyes wither as you strive to remain with him? And what if you try to break the contract to escape karma? Will the both of you suffer in karma and the wrath of the rock?
Xiao can’t do that to you. This is one way he can guarantee your safety. It hurts him to know he cannot marry you, and it hurt more when he saw the disappointment and pain in your eyes when he explained himself. But keeping you safe is his top priority. He deserved this punishment, he can’t put it over your shoulders too.
But that didn’t stop Xiao from imagining how your wedding could have been if things we’re a little different.
A small wedding in a place of your choice with only a handful of close friends and families. You’ll wear a gorgeous dress and walk up to where he is with the same smile you wore when he met you for the second time.
As you stand before him, Xiao could only imagine the happiness and contentment he would feel at that time. 
He’ll hold you close, hear you laugh, and then he’ll press his lips against yours, sealing you to a promise that everything that he is, and everything that he has, is yours.
He’ll find himself retreating somewhere private. He didn’t want you to see him vulnerable, weak, as he cried for the first time in his life, and for the greatest reason.
He could have a chance of happiness, but he can’t.
It was all a dream.
A dream he will never achieve, a dream of yours that he can never grant.
“Xiao, you’re still awake?”
The man looked away from the moon and looked over his shoulder to see you standing by the threshold leading to the terrace. You were tired, and yet you woke up to tend to him. 
“You know I don’t need sleep.”
“But you always lie next to me. What’s wrong? Something bothering you?”
Xiao did not respond, and you didn’t push any further. He adored it how you know when to prod to a subject or not. You know him so well.
After a moment of silence, you walked over to him and sat  beside him on the railing. You looked up at the moon, and Xiao slowly placed his head over your shoulder.
He felt at peace.
Xiao closed his eyes, dreaming of a day that will never come when he can marry you without anything holding him back.
     KAZUHA
                        Kazuha can no longer remember how long it has been since he was on the run from the shogunate. The Electro Archon and her subjects are on the hunt for Visions of every single person residing in the walls of Inazuma, and he was one of the few who refused to have their Visions confiscated from them. It seems exiling him from his homeland was no longer sufficient and the said Archon has ordered for every so-called transgressor that they banished to be apprehended and have their Visions forcefully taken from them. It was only his luck that Beidou, and the crew she captained, has taken him under their wing and he has been sailing the seas with them since then.
            Has it been months? Days? Or perhaps weeks? Being away from land with nothing but the ocean to take in and his mind seemingly always preoccupied with his doubts and worries has him losing track of time.
   In all honesty, he doesn’t remember the last time he stepped on dry land. Perhaps they did, but it was not a memory that has fleeted a long time ago. All he can think about was Inazuma, the threat of being having his Vision taken, and his past he buried deep within the back of his mind.
            Beidou must have taken notice of his continuous lackluster attitude and has set sail for Liyue for him to take a break from the seas. This, of course, he appreciated though he insisted Beidou that she did not have to dock just for him to clear his mind.
          Back at that time Beidou claimed she knew what is best for him and she should put his trust on him, and with the lack of reasons to refute her statement, Kazuha merely let out a sigh and agreed to land in Liyue.
                         He has never been to Liyue, or to put it more accurately, he has never stepped foot in in the few times the Crux made their return on Liyue. It wasn’t because he hated it there, but he felt more comfortable and more at home inside the ship. The furthest he has gone was on the docks to help the crew load supplies in their next sail. But now Beidou has encouraged him to leave the ship and explore, and implied being forbidden to come aboard if he refused to do as she says.
       When Beidou said she knows what is best for him, maybe she was right. He must admit, even if he was still longing to return to his homeland, Liyue had many sights and delicacies to offer. But the best and most beautiful sight he saw was up on a rooftop when he was resting from hours of mindless meandering in the streets.
                                                              He played with a green leaf that fluttered over to him after it has been carried away by the wind from its tree, and he pressed his lips against it to whistle a melody. The tune was buried under the bustle of the city night but it seems that one picked it up from the terrace just below him.
                    Kazuha saw a girl around his age walk out to the terrace, head moving left and right, as though looking for something. Kazuha did not think much of this behavior assuming she was searching for something else, and he tore his eyes away from her and nonchalantly continued to whistle against the leaf.
                                           “So, that was you who was making that beautiful sound.”
                Kazuha casted his gaze down to see the girl on the terrace looking up at him as she leaned against the railing with her arms crossed, a gleeful smile present on her brims. He pulled the leaf from his lips as he regarded her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to – ”          
          She shook her head, chuckling. “No, no, it’s fine. You can stay there.” She assured, and Kazuha eased on his spot. She stared at the leaf in his hand. “I didn’t know you can make a tune using a leaf.”
                      Kazuha flashed her a small smile. “It’s something only a few can do. It’s pretty hard to master.”
                     “And you’re one of those few.” She remarked. Silence prevailed between the two until she spoke again. “Can you play something for me?”
      Kazuha was bewildered by her request. It wasn’t common to find a foreigner sitting on the rooftop of her household. One would think that their first reaction should be an accusation of trespassing and a demand for identification, but no. This girl was different, you were different.
                    Kazuha did not question your request, just as you have not questioned him of his place on your rooftop. Instead, he granted your wish. He pressed the leaf against his lips and blew, a tune of his own composition sounding in the air.
      He watched in awe as you raised both your hands to your chest and white particles formed above your palm, creating a shape until it formed and bloomed into an elegant wooden lyre. Without saying anything else, you strum the strings along with his tune, and the people of Liyue beneath their feet are unaware of the small haven the two of them created together.
               Kazuha is more than grateful for Beidou for pushing him to go to Liyue. Ever since that night, he has made constant visits to your house. Early in the morning – that’s when Beidou would barge into the barracks and force them out of their beds – he would always be the one out of the door to finish his tasks and leave immediately to visit you, a prominent smile over his face. The crew, of course, has pestered him to tell him of the reason for his constant leaving and he could only let out a sigh of relief when Beidou shooed them away from him and asked them to return to their work. She winked at him right after and whispered, “Go and hurry to your girlfriend.” To which he denied with a shy grumble before making haste to Liyue.
                               Liyue was brighter than the isolationist Inazuma has become, and one of the reasons Kazuha thought this was you. The Crux was like a family to him, and Beidou was like an older sister to him, but you – he has never felt more soothed than in your presence. You felt like home, and it has been so long since he had felt like he was at home. Seeing you smile, hearing you laugh, seeing how you nod attentively as he talked, your arms embracing him when he opened up to you about his past, the music you played together in perfect harmony even without practice – it was all so surreal.
        Kazuha didn’t have to tell you about his growing feelings for you. He knew that you knew.
  It started with a shy kiss, and then a longer one, and the two of you found solace in each other’s arms. There was no music playing, and there were no stories shared – just him with his arms around your figure and lips connected with yours. None of you dare say it but your days together were slowly coming to an end, and it won’t be long until the day comes when he has to set sail to visit neighboring nations.
                  But Kazuha will always come back to you, that he promises.
After a few years of frequent visiting and writing letters to one another, Kazuha has finally decided that it was time for him to propose to you. Beidou - being the supportive big sister she is to him - upon hearing of his plan, gathered her crew to help Kazuha in his objective. Everything from food, drinks, location (they chose the ship), and atmosphere, they provided. As thanks for their dedication and help, they only ask an invitation to his wedding, to which Kazuha replied will surely come even if they did not help.
The crew claimed that they shall be far away as possible from the ship so that the two of you can have your privacy, but Kazuha, and definitely you, as well, heard loud cheering from a short distance followed by a shushing Beidou when you accepted his proposal.
“I thought they said they’d be at Wanmin Restaurant - ”
“To be honest, I didn’t really believe them.”
Unlike the other boys who were hesitant of not seeing the bride for a week until the wedding, Kazuha was actually the one to push this tradition. He disliked it as much as the other boys, but Kazuha loved being able to give you his all. Not being able to see you for a week is a sure way for him to crave for your presence, and once the two of you see each other again, he’ll pour out every love and care for you then.
You were dismayed by this whole arrangement but since it is important to Kazuha, you respected it.
The crew fought for the spot of best man, but in the end, all of them got to be best man. Kazuha did not have the heart to choose one from the crew, so he had to explain to you beforehand that the almost the entire male crew of The Crux are going to be standing with him at the ceremony.
It wasn’t a common occurrence in a wedding but you allowed it. The crew was like his family to him, and if it’s going to make him happy to have them as his best men, who are you to go against it?
At the day of the wedding, Beidou was the one to fret over Kazuha’s appearance. The Anemo user tried to calm her down but after she continually tried to fix his hair for the wedding, he just sighed and allowed her.
“I can’t believe you’re going to be married in just a few hours.” Beidou remarked in the quiet after a while. “To think you were just a teenager when we met you, and our little teenager is a big man now.”
“Nothing’s going to change. I’ll just be married.” Kazuha tried to ease her worries but he knew as well there are going to be major changes. One of being concerning his frequent endeavors with the crew. Once he gets married with you, he’d want to be with you always, to settle with you. But he was so used to the sea, to be living with the crew in a ship. Can he really get used to this coming change?
Beidou let out a sigh. She placed a hand over his head, patting him gently. She would have ruffled his hair but that would waste her effort on making it as presentable as she can.
“Things are going to change, Kazuha.” Stated Beidou, beaming. “And it’s not all bad. Trust me.”
Kazuha nodded, but he was still uneasy. He was ready to give himself to you, but at the same time, he wasn’t ready to leave the crew. 
This thought haunted him even in the time of the ceremony. He should be focusing on the wedding but he couldn’t. 
He needed to talk to you about this. You need to know what’s bothering him.
Was it possible to feel dread for the future while also looking forward to it?
Because it felt like a gust of wind billowed his direction when his eyes landed on you. Beautiful, you’re beautiful. What else can he say? 
Was he really going to marry you? Whatever did you see in him? He was a banished Ronin from Inazuma. There must be some other man more worthy of you.
But you loved him, nobody else.
“Stop gawking at me like that. You’re making me embarrassed.” You murmured, cheeks flushed. He didn’t even notice you standing before him until you spoke.
Kazuha closed his parted lips as he turned away from you. “I . . . uh . . . ” He swallowed. “You look beautiful, ( Your Name ).”
“At least look at me when you say that, Kazu-kun.”
 He looked at you, breathing in before speaking. “You look very, very . . . uh, pretty.”
You laughed a little. “You look very, very handsome, Kazuha.”
You took his hands in yours and gazed into his eyes, smiling. “Things are going to change once we get married.”
A pang of uneasiness struck Kazuha.
But what you said next shocked him.
“After this, I can finally be part of the crew and join you on your adventures in the sea!”
Kazuha gawked at you again, blinking.
Everyone invited to his wedding gasped when Kazuha suddenly kissed you out of nowhere in the middle of the ceremony.
Beidou, and the rest of the crew, however, cheered loudly for the two of you.
After the wedding, Kazuha snuck away from the reception for a while. He found a tree from a short distance and sat on the branch, breathing in the cool evening air.
He caught a fluttering leaf and smiled as he gazed at it and recalled how the two of you met.
Things will change, and soon, he’ll be adventuring with his wife in the vast ocean. Oh, he has so many things to show you.
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bxckybarness · 3 years
Text
What I Missed - Loki Laufeyson
summary: while in custody at the TVA, loki realizes what he misses from the future, only to be surprised by what he gets in the present
word count: 2100+
warnings: a little angsty, a little emotional, mention of loki’s death, episode 1 spoilers
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Today was certainly not Loki’s day.
Over the course of a few hours (or more, or less, this is the TVA, afterall) he had been in the custody of the Avengers, had happened upon the Tesseract and escaped from New York. It seemed too good to be true, and it was. Just when he thought he had truly outsmarted the Earthly heroes again, he was imprisoned and taken again.
Now here he was, under the supervision of the Time Variance Authority and one, Mobius, a bizarre administrator in charge of tracking down the most dangerous of variants. It all seemed like madness to Loki. He was used to silly games and grandiose tricks but this story of timelines and space lizards seemed beyond even his own trickery. It seemed downright absurd. And annoying.
He had been subject to what he would call an interrogation. Mobius, however, called it a simple conversation. A slideshow of his life, his “greatest hits” as Mobius had called it and a relentless fire of questions, the memory of which continued to burn in his memory:
Should you return, what are you going to do?
King of Midgard? Then what, happily ever after?
King of Space?
Why does someone with so much capability just want to rule?
Do you enjoy hurting people?
That one had burned most of all. Did he enjoy hurting people? Hardly. And it was upsetting to him that anyone would think that. But he also understood what he appeared to be to every other living creature. He had just relived the moment in which he killed that daft agent and his mother. His mother. He refused to believe he was at fault for that. Frigga was the only person who truly saw him and whom Loki cared for deeply. But it seemed so clear in the moving picture, he had led them right to her.
It was in that moment, with tears and rage in his eyes, he knew he needed to get out of the disastrous time circus. He no longer cared to be a monkey in this ring. If he could find the tesseract, he could escape and be free once again.
That plan had gone almost perfectly. The only thing that went wrong - there is no magic in the TVA. No matter how many times he held the tesseract in his hands, wishing it to take him back to Midgard or Asgard, he was met with nothing but the bland walls in this TVA Time Theater. There was no hope in escaping.
Feeling exhausted, Loki slowly moves toward the table in the center of the room. He sits down and admires the machine in front of him. As grim as the stories it held could be, it was still quite fascinating that it could replay the highlights from his life - in a weird way, at least. He reaches out and turns the knob, searching for the moment his mother dies. He finds it and watches in silence for a while, tears beginning to fall down his face.
He turns the knob again.
He sees a future version of himself sitting next to his father and Thor. He watches as his father declares his love for his sons. Sons, plural. Both Thor and him. A small smile graces Loki’s face before Odin disappears, leaving the two men behind. Loki holds back a sob as tears continue to flood from his eyes. His father did love him, did see purpose for him. He wasn’t just the mischievous son. He’s sad that it took this long to understand that, and sad that he never got to experience this himself, even if a future version of him did.
Another turn of the knob.
This scene immediately feels different. He sees a garden, full of life, beautiful flowers blooming in every direction. He sees himself, sitting under a tree smiling next to a young woman. As the scene progresses he realizes this version of him is smiling at you. He lets out a small gasp when he watches the pair share a kiss and wipes the quickly falling tears from his cheeks. He had always loved you, but had never gotten the chance to tell you. The two of you had met through Thor, when he brought both you and Jane to Asgard. He had taken to you quickly, enjoying your similar sarcasm and humor - something that was scarce within his home realm. You, like his mother, had always seen the good in him and had understood his struggle. It was something he would never understand, you being of Midgard. You knew what he had done and had been there to see the destruction, but still saw him not as the God of Mischief or Earth Enemy #1, only Loki. He aches for the fact that he never got to feel the happiness his future self did, especially when it was happiness with you.
Turn the knob.
Loki and Thor stand in a room together. Loki lets out a small laugh in the midst of his tears, wondering how his oaf of a brother managed to lose an eye. Maybe a dumb bet between the two of them, maybe there was a battle amongst the nine realms. He’s quickly pulled from his thoughts as he hears Thor speak.
“Maybe you’re not so bad after all, brother.”
“Maybe not,” the future Loki responds.
“Thank you,” Thor replies, “If you were here, I might even give you a hug.”
“I’m here.”
Loki smiles and nods to himself. From where he’s sitting now, it’s a wonder that he and his brother ever made up. He realizes now that the fighting and the sibling rivalry may have all been in his head. He, again, curses himself for leaving New York and allowing himself to miss these moments that he’s been waiting his whole life for.
Fast-forward.
He and you lay in a room, seemingly on the same ship as the previous scene. You lay snug against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You hum softly before speaking up.
“I love you, you know.”
By the look on both of your faces, it’s the first time this has been said out loud. There’s nervous tension in the room, Loki can feel it through this screen. He somehow knows the words his future self is going to say before he hears them.
“I love you too, darling. You bring out the best in me.”
You snuggle closer to him, if that’s even possible, and there’s a comfortable silence for a few seconds. Loki takes a moment to admire this picture. It was something he had wanted since he had first met you on Asgard. You had stuck out like a sore thumb, dressed in your casual Midgardian clothes. He couldn’t have missed you even if he tried, nobody could have. And boy was he glad about that now.
“Promise me something,” he watches himself say.
“Anything,” you whisper. “Anything for you, Loki.”
“Promise me, no matter what, you’ll always help me see the good in myself. I’ve too long suffered at the hands of those who desperately wish for me to see the bad.”
You let out a laugh and the Loki stuck in time laughs with you, “Oh, Loki. I wish you could see yourself as I see you. But I promise.”
“Thank you, my love.”
“You, Loki, may be a God, but you will always just be the man I fell in love with. The good, kind, and honorable man I call mine.”
Turn, again.
Loki sees himself kneeling and before he can question why, he watches as his future self moves to attack someone in front of him. When Loki realizes it's Thanos, he’s quickly on his feet, moving closer to the screen. The tears are gone now, and a silent rage burns behind his eyes. There was nothing from Loki but hate for the purple titan. He watches in horror as Thanos picks Loki up from the floor, a death grip on his neck. Loki wonders to himself how he would get himself out of this scenario had he been there. He assumes an illusion would do the trick. However, he notices your distraught figure behind the mad titan. He can hear your screams as you kneel next to Thor, who is imprisoned in cuffs. He hears you call out to him and he knows this will not end well. His suspicions are right when he watches his death. A shocked gasp comes from his throat as the tape in front of him runs out, nothing left to show.
Loki quickly sits back down and closes his eyes, trying his hardest to process the vision he saw. To one version of him, these would have been experiences and now memories. To him, though, these were all subtle tastes of a life he lost. He lost a touching moment with his father and a long awaited declaration of love from him. He lost the reconciliation with his brother and the confession that they had been more partners than rivals. Even though to him it had not yet happened, he missed it all, and it upset him deeply.
What hurt Loki the most was the idea that he lost his chance to feel his love reciprocated. Loki had never had much luck with romance. He was often seen as the sly younger brother and was usually too occupied to try and compete with Thor for the maidens at court. When he met you, he thought he had a chance. You were the first woman who saw him as his own person and not just as Thor’s brother. The relationship between the two of you had blossomed quickly and he found himself always sneaking away from his princely duties to see you. He had shown you his favorite places in Asgard and had opened up to you in ways he had never done before. He loved you and wanted you to be his. His one regret was not initiating a relationship before you had left for Midgard. And he thought his chances had been ruined by his actions in New York. Oh, how wrong he was.
Before Loki can dwell on his future more, Mobius comes bursting into the room.
“Ah Loki, glad you made your way back here. I have something for you,” he says.
“If this is another one of your tricks, I’m not currently in the mood,” Loki responds coolly.
“Just trust me on this one.”
Mobius shouts over his shoulder for someone to “bring her in.” Loki eyes the guards who walk in suspiciously until he notices who they bring with them. He can hardly believe his eyes. The gods in all the realms must be smiling down on him today, after all, because there you stand. He takes in your hideous red and white space suit, emblazoned with the Avengers logo, and he’s at least thankful he missed whatever battle this suit was required for.
He quickly stands and rushes over to you, a smile quickly gracing his face. You meet his gaze with a smile that is just as big and tears begin to flow from your eyes.
“Loki,’ you start. “Is that really you?”
He nods and speaks, although his words are barely audible, “It’s me, my love.”
“God, I thought I lost you forever. That’s why I went back in time to find you.”
Loki nods, now, unable to believe what he’s hearing, “You went back to find me?”
“Yes, but look what good that did me,” you say with a smirk. Loki’s heart pulls and he feels he could fall over right there. Norns, he missed you and your witty humor.
“Well,” he says, reciprocating your sly attitude, “You found me did you not? I might not be the same Loki as you knew, but I am still Loki.”
“The good, kind, and honorable Loki that I call mine.”
Loki smiles and you move forward to give him a hug. You’re cautious, though, because you aren’t exactly sure what part of the timeline this Loki came from. Maybe you had already been dating, maybe not. That was something to figure out another time though.
“Alright then,” Mobius says from behind you, “Let’s get you two caught up on what you missed with each other.”
Today was certainly not Loki’s day. And he had cursed all that was good that he had ended up at the TVA, taken from the life he knew. But now? He didn’t mind. He knew the relationships that were broken with his brother and father had been mended, he knew that one version of him had sacrificed himself for good and he had you, not only in memory but in the flesh. And sure, you had lots to rediscover within your relationship, but you would do that together.
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slytherinnbitch · 3 years
Text
Day 26: Accident
when harry woke up in a hospital bed for the millionth time, his first thought was hermione is going to kill me. and it was true because hermione had threatened to do exactly that if he landed himself in the hospital yet again. 
but when he finally opened his eyes, there’s no red or bushy brown hair in sight. just the pale blond one which belonged to the prat he hated the most. Draco Fucking Malfoy. and for some reason he looked relieved to see Harry. that couldn’t possibly be right. because draco hated harry with passion and he would have been happy if he died-
“Merlin, Harry, gave me a right scare. can’t you play one game without getting injured or is that too fucking much for you?” draco asked, and while the words and the tone of his voice were in perfect contradiction; one thing was clear. Malfoy was concerned about Harry. but that was something he would focus upon on some another moment when his mind wasn’t full of some half a billion questions. starting with what in merlin’s name was malfoy doing here?
“Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing here? he asked, annoyance clear in his voice. and because he couldn’t help himself he asked the other question which was burning a hole in his brain, “what game are you talking about?”
as far as harry was concerned, he had last played in hogwarts, although he did still participate in some of the impromptu Weasley weekly sunday matches but he doesn’t think Draco knew about that. harry’s words seemed to stop malfoy in his tracks. he frowned at harry, then he stared into his eyes for a long time before harry looked away. 
“uhm, okay. Ha-Potter, could you tell me what year this is?” malfoy asked, did he really think harry to be so dumbheaded that he would forget the year. 
“malfoy, do you really be asking me that? don’t you have better work to do? or did your small brain forget the date?” harry scoffed. malfoy was undetered, he asked harry the same question again, as if he hadn’t even heard harry’s words.
“ugh, you’re so annoying. its January 2001, unless i was unconsious for more than two weeks, then it would be february 2001.” harry replied, and the fuck was he alone? that too with malfoy to keep him company. he was about to ask just that when malfoy said-
“i’ll contact hermione and ron. just- sit here and try not to break anything or get out of bed.”
“and who would you be to comand me that?” harry challenged, like seriously what right did the poncy git have?
“as your appointed healer, if nothing else.” malfoy replied before leaving his private hospital room. 
.
"okay so it's 2011 and I have somehow forgotten ten years of my life. So what's up with me right now then? Senior Auror? Please don't tell me I went for Minister!" Harry tried to joke, it wouldn't do good to panic now afterall. "and however did I end up here? Malfoy mentioned something of a game?"
Ron and Hermione share a look. Harry always hated when they did that, especially after they got together.
"and why did you both allow Malfoy to be my healer? What were you both even thinking?" he added because he can't help but feel slightly betrayed by his friends. Malfoy entered at that exact moment, nosy git that he is, can't let people have some privacy.
"so does he know then? Doesn't look like it," Malfoy claimed, and Harry wanted to strangle him because he was aware that the he was him.
"harry was just asking about his job, and ... other prospects of life." Ron said, looking back and forth between Harry and Malfoy.
"well, I would be going really blunt now because reg would be wanting answers soon." Malfoy motioned his hands around as if whatever he said made sense and who was this reg person even?
even if Malfoy had appeared confident just a moment ago, he took a deep breath before he started, looking determinant, "you're a professional quidditch player. You resigned from the aurors about nine years ago and have been persued by various teams, and have changed teams twice. You now are the main seeker for Puddlemere United. You got hit pretty hard by a bulger before losing consciousness. And then here we are two days later. Does that answer your questions?" Malfoy asked calmy, it's a lot to take in. Well, Harry never fancied being a Auror all that much after defeating that noseless bastard so it's a good decision on his part. He wondered how he came to the decision.
But more importantly, he still had plenty questions let, "who are you? I know your name, malfoy. I am curious to your status in my life." Harry asked and by the look on Hermione and Ron's face and pain reflecting on Malfoy's, he wondered what was so wrong about it.
"Harry, I must have forgotten to tell you. I'm the Minister now. And Ron became head auror just six months back! don't you think that's incredible?" Hermione asked but Harry knew when a topic was being changed pretty well.
"it's no use stopping the inevitable, Mione. He would know eventually and I rather face it myself firsthand. Would be the best route for my heart, you know?" Malfoy said sadly. As if he had something to be sad about, Harry scoffed mentally at that. And what ths fuck? Mione? Not only was Malfoy on first name basis but he also called his best friend by their nicknames? What had the world turned to?
"We are married, Potter. And no, I haven't used any illegal or inauthentic means to achieve it. We have been together for the almost nine years now. And married for the past six." Malfoy said in one breath and what the actual motherfucking fuck?
"Yeah, right. So what's the real shit?" Harry snorted because malfoy might have a humor but this was so fucking far from the truth that it was downright ridiculous.
"Draco is telling the truth, Harry. You both are married." Ron said, and are these people alright? Harry was getting worried.
"what did he do to the two of you as well? What kind of potion did you use? Or is it a spell? Tell me, Malfoy. How have you been doing it for what did you say? Nine years, yeah?" Harry sneered. Malfoy's face shattered, as it should. He had been caught afterall.
"Draco..." Hermione started but Malfoy quickly put up his hand.
"I can't, not right now. It's fine, Mione. Don't worry about me." Malfoy said with a broken voice. Harry had never seen Malfoy showing this kind of emotion publicly before, but Harry didn't care.
"oh, and if we are actually married. I would like a divorce, immediately if possible. You can take whatever you want from my vaults if you want, if money is what you have been after. Reckon you wouldn't need much, what with your family fortune but I guess some people are never satisfied." Harry taunted because that's what he knew best, even if Malfoy looked like he was on the verge of crying.
"are you sure you want that? You won't regret it when you get your memories back?" Malfoy asked slowly.
"oh, absolutely. I think my actual self would be actually thankful. And please do this as soon as possible." Harry requested, although his tone showed anything but.
"very well, Potter. If that's what you wish for, then that's what you get. Don't say I didn't warn you," Malfoy said one last time. Harry just snorted at that.
Ron looked torn between shocked and upset and Hermione was actually crying. She started protesting but Draco just shook his head and smiled at her.
"I always knew this dream would break, mione. I'll be fine. I have reg." Draco sighed before he came to stnd directly infront of Harry.
"break the bonds then, the certificate would already be produced after we do that. I'll contact the advocate right after." Draco put forward his hand and Harry hesitated for a bit before putting their hands together. The touch was familiar, the skin soft and tender. Harry didn't even dwell on that for more than a second.
Malfoy spoke a foreign language, although Harry did catch a few Latin words in there as well. He didn't really care, but when Malfoy finally extracted his hand. Harry gasped loudly, his heart felt lighter and there was a whole comfortable weight on his shoulders that was gone. He didn't like that feeling even one bit.
Malfoy silently wiped the tears in his eyes, as if that was insignificant. He stared at Harry for a long time, to the point that Harry started feeling uncomfortable.
"well, goodbye Potter." Draco said atlast and Harry just lifted an eyebrow and sneered at him. He gave a sad smile to Harry's bestfriends as well. Then, malfoy actually hugged both of them, together.
When they pulled apart, he said, "don't worry, you both. He is not my Harry anyway. I'll be fine." Malfoy didn't look fine and even Harry could tell that.
"what about reg?" Hermione asked. Seriously, who was this reg?
"I'll be taking him with me. Or since ha-potter is the one who is leaving. Reg would be staying with me."
Draco then smiled, Harry didn't like that look one bit, he looked at Harry through his red eyes and said, "i must have forgotten to mention but I'll make sure Regulus stays with me. What with you being unable to even remember him. I'm sure I would have no problem at all. And don't even try otherwise. Consequences would be deadly." Harry shivered at the words but still, didn't understand who Regulus was. The only Regulus he knew was Sirius's brother and he was long dead.
"Potter, Regulus is, Regulus Malfoy-Potter is our son. Or I should say my son." malfoy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "and don't even try contacting him by anymeans before- no even after you have gained your memory back. Because trust me it will, and it won't be pretty. I don't want my child to go through anything that would cause him trauma, and trust me when your own dad can't remember you, that's going to fuck up anyone's mind real bad, especially for a one and half year old." Malfoy spat out.
Harry could still hear some words ringing in his mind. Child? He had a child? He was a dad? He had to-
"Your rings, Potter." Malfoy out forward his hand, Harry frowned at it.
Malfoy finally gestured at his left hand and he say it, a solid but thin band of gold with small diamonds encrusted. It looked perfect. Just what Harry would have wanted for himself. Did he choose the ring himself then? Not detered, he slid the ring out of his finger. It was with some struggle but it came out atlast. But malfoy was still standing with his hand open.
"what now?" Harry asked, irritatedly.
"the family ring." Malfoy coldly stated. Oh, he then noticed the Malfoy family ring on his tiny finger of his right hand. He practically threw that into Malfoy's hands. Who wanted to be even near that thing?
Malfoy's hand pulled into a tight fist and Harry noticed that he still had a wedding band. So of course, Harry asked, "what about the ones you are wearing?"
"what about them?" Malfoy inquired and Hermione asked at the same time Hermione cried out, "harry, can you please not?"
Harry ignored her and lifted his eyebrows at malfoy again, "well if you take away the ones I had. It's only fair, I get those back."
Malfoy's eyes flashed angrily before the icy facade was back on, "i didn't want dissolve the marriage. I have no obligation to return the rings. And even if I did, I won't. My Harry gave them to me afterall." Malfoy said coldly, but his voice broke at the end.
"and the child-"
"nothing of it. Regulus is my son and he'll be known as such from now on. I would like to see you try otherwise." Malfoy basically growled. Then he gave one mock salute to Harry and turned his back to them and strode out of the room.
The three of them sat in silence for thirty more seconds before Hermione got up, mumbled something about Draco and left the room hurriedly. Ron took off soon after.
He patted Harry on his shoulder and said, "mate that wasn't good. You're going to regret it." Ron had said it with such conviction that it had Harry frowning for several minutes.
In the empty hospital room, with no one but himself to provide company, he felt a strange sensation of dread creep up. He looked down on his ring finger and the slightly lighter skin tone seemed to taunt him.
Harry felt extremely lost, again.
Day 25: Battle || Day 27: Babysitting
Part 2
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rivalsforlife · 3 years
Text
Phoenix Wright: The Truth Reborn: Oh No We’re Doing This Again
hi.
Nearly two months ago, I wrote an essay summarizing and making very wild conclusions about the second Takarazuka Musical. I did this about two and a half years after watching the first Takarazuka musical. As such I did not have the full context for many things from the musical and was relying mostly on my memory, which blocked many things from this musical for my own safety. However, just this week, I decided to rewatch it, because I enjoy tormenting myself. I said I wouldn’t write anything on it. Here I am writing something on it.
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Here’s the youtube thumbnail so that you know what you’re getting yourself into. And here, of course, is the link. This is the HD version which may be slightly more pleasant to watch. Maybe.
It was not quite as cringe in a funny way as the second musical to me, and therefore this essay may be less funny, but I feel like I’m doing a disservice to people by providing a summary of the second musical while completely neglecting the first. Quite possibly doing this is even more of a disservice. I just eagerly await the day that the third musical is translated because *that* will be the day that I finally shuffle off this mortal coil. Either way, I want to write this stuff down so that I never have to watch the musical again out of curiosity.
The following essay will contain major spoilers for both the first and second Phoenix Wright Takarazuka musicals, as I will be using many points from this musical to argue my thesis of the second musical. ... like you were going to watch them anyways. 
This one broke 8k. I’m dead inside.
Introducing The Director
Again another disclaimer that I don’t have anything against the actresses or the theatre troupe. I DO have something against Suzuki Kei, who I recently learned is the writer and director of all three of the Ace Attorney Takarazuka musicals, and is quite possibly my mortal nemesis.
This man is the one who brought this monstrosity into the world.
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This man, allegedly, cleared the first four ace attorney games *seven times* before sitting down to write these musicals. He played these goddamn games seven times and did not take in a single word. The man clicked through them mindlessly while watching a badly written legal romance drama in the background and got them completely confused. I genuinely have no idea how this man could have played these games more times than even me and yet managed to get so many characters (MAYA!!!!) completely and utterly wrong. This haunts me every day, truly.
This man played Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trials and Tribulations, and Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney seven times. SEVEN TIMES EACH!! and was told to create a musical based on the series. He played these games seven times each and you know what he said?? You know what he said?? “This sucks, I’m getting rid of all of Phoenix’s backstory, butchering half the characters, and writing Phoenix/Lana fanfiction, but also rewriting all of Lana’s backstory so that she was Phoenix’s childhood friend, and you know what, I’m changing her name for good measure.”
I think this man played the games seven times each and then hated it so much and was so sick of it he tried to write something that destroyed as much of the series as possible while still being vaguely recognizable. And then somehow it became a massive hit because people like me see this and go “what the actual hell” and watch it, or people who haven’t played the games see this and go “wow what a great musical!” and then he wrote TWO MORE, destroying EVEN MORE every time in his wake, until finally, finally, he stopped after making Edgeworth straight and time traveling into the past to face off against a corrupt Gregory. I guess that was the last straw.
I have to issue a disclaimer here that for legal reasons this is a joke. I don’t actually hate this man and would not punch him in the face if I met him because that would be rude, and he is entitled to his wrong interpretation of the games. I don’t know what his thought process was. But allegedly he did play the games seven times according to the wiki. This whole essay here is satire and not slander and I don’t want to offend this guy if he somehow stumbles across my nonsense tumblr post. At the same time: Suzuki Kei blink twice if you need help.
Anyways half the reason that I’m making this essay is because I want to share my fake ao3 page for this musical. The other half will become apparent later.
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Sorry if that’s illegible because of tumblr quality it’s not really important. All you really need to know is that it’s a fake ao3 screenshot for the musical. Also in the author’s note I said he played the games four times but it was actually seven I just remembered wrong because I didn’t want to believe it.
at this point you may be like “Grace shut up and get to the actual musical” and okay, fine, let’s start this nonsense. Also note that I may be referencing things from my essay on the second musical very frequently; I’m not going to force you to go read that though because the fact that you’re reading this is enough of a torment already.
The Musical Begins
Unlike the second musical, this one opens with some narration from Phoenix.
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Transcript:
Phoenix: I’m reviewing a particular case at the moment. To me, this case... is one I’ll never forget.
Immediately I think this is important because it establishes that this whole musical takes place in a flashback that Phoenix is reflecting on. Why is this important? Because we know, by the time of the second musical which takes place three years later, Leona is dead.
Knowing that Leona is inherently doomed to die of her Sad Woman Disease paints this whole musical in a different light. It’s not Phoenix reflecting on how he got back together with his lover; it’s Phoenix dwelling on their past together, and the opportunities they had, before her life was so cruelly and inexplicably taken away. We don’t know if Phoenix’s reminiscing takes place before or after Leona’s death... but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was after.
Phoenix, still in the present, starts to sing. “A wave appears on the horizon like a mirage, it trembles, then vanishes. Your voice, carried upon the waves, fades upon the shore, erasing the splendor of the past.”
This line actually shows up in the second musical, sung by Lucia about her imprisoned fiance quite possibly. It’s kind of hard to tell what the meaning of these songs even are. They’re too abstract for me I think. But this line appears very frequently in the first musical when Phoenix is thinking about Leona.
Then we enter the flashback time.
Phoenix inexplicably yells at a newspaper saleswoman. This is not relevant to anything whatsoever. Then Larry barges in to the office, looking for Maya. Phoenix describes him as “A real trouble maker, but you just can’t hate the guy”, the latter part of which I think many people would disagree with. 
Well, afterwards, Maya comes in. Phoenix describes her like this while making exaggerated “can you believe this shit” gestures.
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Transcript:
Phoenix: She’s as ditzy as they come. Oh, and about the outfit... Apparently she comes from a family of spirit mediums. Try not to make fun of her, okay?
Suzuki Kei personally has it out for Maya and I can never forgive him for it. Maya in these musicals is here for pure comedic relief but it’s not even comedic because I just get so angry. How can you play the trilogy seven times and think this about her?? The girl who figured out DL-6?? The girl who told Phoenix to sacrifice her life in order to find the truth?? The girl who put on a brave smile in order to try and cheer up her younger cousin even after she saw her own mother murdered right in front of her eyes?? That Maya Fey?? Ditzy as they come??????
Ugh. Moving on.
Maya and Larry run off, leaving Phoenix to watch the American Broadcast.
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Important things to note here are the Godot mug, the little line up of what I think are the messed up little ace attorney figurines beneath the screen, and the fact that while this broadcast is supposedly from and to America the screen is actually not at all showing America. Like literally almost everywhere in the world except North and South America.
The broadcast says that Leona Clyde, age 24, was arrested for murdering the senator Robert Cole! Leona Clyde -- that’s Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend! He runs off to the detention center.
She is not happy to see him.
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Leona: Mr. Wright... I’m not the woman you once knew.
Let’s Play A Matching Game
Sorry for the abundance of screenshots that are going to be throughout this section. Phoenix convinces Leona to let him defend her. Some of the conversation seems... familiar.
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Leona: No one would defend someone who admits to killing a senator. I’m waiting for a court-appointed attorney.
Edgeworth: Every defense attorney I’ve talked to has turned me down.
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Phoenix: In that case, let me defend you.
Game Phoenix: Let me defend you.
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Leona: Don’t be ridiculous!
Edgeworth: Don’t be ridiculous.
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Phoenix: I’ll never accept that you’re a murderer. Let me prove your innocence!
Game Phoenix: Huh? Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to prove that Miles Edgeworth is innocent.
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Leona: I’ve already confessed my guilt.
Gumshoe: He confessed that he did it! In court!
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Leona: It’s foolish to think you can win this case.
Edgeworth: My case is near hopeless, Wright.
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Leona: (in response to phoenix offering to defend her) No you won’t! Don’t ever come here again.
Edgeworth: Look, just go away, and leave me alone!
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Phoenix: You of all people should know. Once I decide to do something, I see it through to the end.
Edgeworth: Once you start on something, you always see it through, don’t you?
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Leona: I never thought that you’d be representing me.
Phoenix: Ah, who could have guessed this day would come?
Edgeworth: Not me.
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Phoenix: You believed in me. You saved me. And this time, I swear... I swear I’ll save you!
Game Phoenix: Edgeworth believed in me, and I believe in him. I’m the only one who knows the real Edgeworth. I’m the only one who can help him.
I could’ve done a few more, but tumblr is already threatening to murder my laptop.
So long story short, Phoenix manages to convince his lover to let him be the defense on the case. Then immediately after swearing to save Leona, he starts singing a song, which I’m not screencapping because this is enough:
“As long as there are people in this world, there’s only one path I will follow! As long as there is love in this world, there’s only one path I will believe in!”
Edgeworth sings this in the second musical after saying that he returned to California because of Phoenix. Phoenix sings it now after swearing to defend Leona. You draw your own conclusions.
And then we finally get the opening credits. Eleven minutes in.
Just Pretend This Is Narumitsu Fanfiction
Following the credits, we see a beautiful beach. Couples (exclusively heterosexual, of course,) dance and embrace in the background for some time, before revealing Phoenix and Leona, in the Even Further Past, before the LSATs or whatever the ace attorney universe’s excuse for law school exams are.
Phoenix establishes his absolute hatred of change, an important characterization moment.
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Phoenix: The view here never changes, huh?
Phoenix reminisces on when they were kids. Leona’s parents were both lawyers (they’re both lawyers) and sometimes they would be like lawyers with her when she was a kid. This inspired her to also become a lawyer after their tragic death of Sickness. They never specify what the sickness is that caused two people who must be relatively young to die while Leona was in her early twenties at the latest. It may be whatever sickness claimed Leona’s life later. Sad Woman Disease. (Sad Man Disease for her father, I guess?)
Phoenix also talks about why he’s becoming a lawyer.
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Phoenix: Watching you chase your dream inspired me to become a lawyer too.
So, it’s not “my childhood friend looked sad in a newspaper” because I guess that makes no sense or is too gay or something. But this is another important piece of Phoenix characterization. His entire life so far has been focused around Leona. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and then Phoenix decided to become a lawyer solely because Leona was becoming a lawyer. Not even to try and get back into contact with her after she moved away or anything; just because he’s so obsessed with her that he wants to have the same career as her, then they can run a Mom & Pop Law Firm or something, years in the future, after years of happy marriage and a few children or like whatever the hell.
Well, there’s a few steps they’ll need to get to that. At this point Phoenix still hasn’t confessed his feelings for Leona. He does so here, on this beach.
Leona tries to protest.
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Leona: But I’m pushy, selfish, and only care about my goals... You’d get fed up with me.
Phoenix: That’s what I’ve always admired about you. That’s who I’ve been chasing all these years. That’s the only person... I love.
Sooo, Phoenix, your type is pushy selfish people who only care about their goals...? In the first, older lower-quality video translation it was “only care about my work”, too. Hm. Things to think about.
They sing a little duet together. Then we go back to present-day of what’s technically still a flashback. Whatever. Murder is happening.
Back To The Murder
So some plot things to establish: Leona is the legal counsel of Governor Miller, who is running for president in the AMERICAN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. After the flashback so that Phoenix has some time to change clothes, they show an interview of him talking about the murder.
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Governor Miller: I vow to forge a peaceful country with my own two hands, and to prepare myself for whatever may lie ahead.
Reporters: Through thick and thin, he’s a friend of the people!
The Takarazuka musicals are not very good at hiding their killers.
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Phoenix: Oh yeah... It’s almost time for the presidential election, isn’t it?
NEVER FORGET, WRIGHT. THIS IS AMERICA. LAND OF THE FREE! god what even was that line.
Anyways, we meet Gumshoe, who is incompetent once again. Maya runs around the crime scene, picks up the murder weapon, puts her fingerprints all over everything, moves things around, all while Phoenix is like “lol get a load of the world’s stupidest girl” or whatever. But who cares about that.
It’s time to get to the only valid part of this musical.
Edgeworth’s Gay Little Villain Solo
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You may have seen this one before.
Edgeworth arrives, but not really. It’s like Phoenix heard Edgeworth was prosecuting and immediately entered a dream-like state, where Edgeworth is heralded by the sound of trumpets in Great Revival. He’s played by a different actress than in the other two musicals, since I think she retired in between the six or so months from this musical to the second. She still plays the role well, though, or as well as can be when you’re written in an ace attorney Takarazuka musical.
Shrouded in scarlet solitude... it’s Edgeworth.
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Yes, those are six Edgeworths. Yes, they pick Phoenix up and carry him around and dance with him. Yes, it was probably not meant to be at all homoerotic.
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He sings a song that’s called “My rule”. I only figured this out later, but it’s loosely based on a “catchphrase” of his in the Japanese version - in game 1 he says something along the lines of “All I can do is get every defendant declared guilty! So I make that my policy.” In DD in his dramatic anime introduction before the trial, he says “I intend to question the defendant with all I have. For that is a part of my creed.” “So I make that my policy” and “For that is a part of my creed”, to my understanding, are both translated from the same line, which I think is like, “sore ga watashi no ruru”, “That is my rule.” (If I’m wrong, please correct me.) In this song he sings about how he’ll reduce all criminals to ash and such, basically talks about his game 1 prosecuting strategy as “my rule”. 
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It’s very fun and probably if you want to only watch one number of this musical, it can be this one. It starts about 26:10 in the video I linked.
Once the musical number is done, Phoenix and Edgeworth stare at each other, and the background fades into the courtroom, so court begins. I feel like I should note that Phoenix has not picked up any evidence or talked to any witnesses in this investigation except for Gumshoe, since Maya just moved some things around and then Phoenix had some weird fever dream about Edgeworth which presumably took up the rest of the day.
The Trial, Day 1
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Edgeworth: Consider it a prelude to the poignant Greek tragedy that’s about to unfold.
Maya: The real tragedy’s your pompous attitude!
Those are the only screenshots I took of this trial day. Here’s a summary, though:
The trial starts off with Leona confessing, Phoenix says “no I think she’s innocent”, and since ace attorney doesn’t care about the defendant’s wishes he’s allowed to proceed. For some reason Leona lets him do this without complaint. 
Gumshoe is the first witness, he claims to have caught Leona red-handed at the scene of the crime, standing over the corpse. Phoenix tries to claim that since Gumshoe didn’t see Leona committing the crime, he didn’t actually catch her red-handed, to which Edgeworth responds “What do you think being caught red-handed means?” 
Once Gumshoe is dismissed, Lotta takes the stand. She has a photo of the actual moment of the crime, where Leona is holding a knife in the air in front of the victim. 
The Takarazuka musicals like to do this thing where the image is blurry and zoomed out, but then Phoenix will go “I’VE NOTICED A CONTRADICTION” and it zooms in really far as the resolution increases drastically in order to show you the contradiction that is impossible to spot for yourself, because they don’t want people figuring out the mystery in this musical based off of a video game where you have to solve the mystery yourself. Anyways Phoenix zooms in on this photo and sees that there’s blood on Leona’s hand, presumably before she stabbed the victim. How did it get there?
Edgeworth suggests the victim was stabbed multiple times. Phoenix says the autopsy report contradicts that. Edgeworth, uncharacteristically, does not update it to suit his argument. 
Phoenix concludes that this photo is not showing the moment Leona stabbed the victim, but the moment Leona removed the knife! ... Which somehow casts doubt on her having been the one to stab the victim. Because as everyone knows, anyone wanting to kill someone would never remove a knife, it’s not like they’d bleed out faster that way, or anything.
And this whole contradiction is confusing because presumably if the victim was stabbed and then the knife was removed, they’d know that happened, because then the knife would not be found stuck in the victim’s body, since the victim was only stabbed once. So this shouldn’t be news to the prosecution that someone removed the knife after stabbing. But the investigation was headed by the most incompetent version of Gumshoe ever, so. sure. I guess no one knew.
That at least manages to extend the trial another day.
This Totally Has To Be Illegal
After the trial, Phoenix goes to talk to Governor Miller, aka Mr. Totally The Real Killer. Phoenix asks him why he decided to hire Leona as his legal advisor.
Basically, it’s because her parents were both renowned lawyers. Her father was a Chief Prosecutor, and her mother was a defense attorney. ... a prosecutor and a defense attorney couple... who does that remind us of...
Phoenix points out that just because her parents were good lawyers, it doesn’t mean she’d necessarily be one. Miller says that, sure, but she is actually really talented, and her law school marks were spectacular. Phoenix says “WHY WERE YOU LOOKING AT HER LAW SCHOOL MARKS”, like it’s somehow? suspicious? for a government official hiring legal counsel to look at their law school marks?
Apparently it IS suspicious because Governor Miller freaks out and asks if this is an interrogation. Before Phoenix can press much further, he gets a phone call, and leaves Phoenix alone in a big room.
So naturally Phoenix behaves like a fully grown adult running a law firm.
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If all he did was sit in the chair, lift up a desk lamp, and poke his finger on a pen, that’s one thing. But then he leans over, OPENS THE GOVERNOR’S DESK DRAWER, and finds a knife that’s just sitting there casually. It looks like a butter knife. It’s not anything major. Maybe the dude just wanted to butter his toast?
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I mean I know Phoenix will dig around in stuff whenever in the games, but he has no reason to suspect Governor Miller at all, much less dig through his drawer probably full of confidential government documents to lift up a knife that he thinks is suspicious. It’s not even covered in blood or anything?
Naturally Governor Miller’s assistant comes in just then, and Phoenix puts the knife. in his breast pocket. 
bud. It may look like a butter knife, but putting knives up against your chest is not a great idea. Much less stealing a knife from a governor? 
Well, in his panic, he accidentally knocks over a bunch of books on the desk. The governor’s assistant helps him pick them up, and they find a photo. Look a little familiar?
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The photo has the assistant, the victim Robert Cole, Governor Miller, and the victim’s brother who died in an incident two years ago. He’s the “Neil Marshall” of this musical, and he died in what was essentially the SL-9 incident. Same general premise, except it occurred in the courthouse, and the names are different.
AND FINALLY WE REACH THE END OF ACT 1. They do a musical number here which is a weird sort of mashup of the main opening credits song, Edgeworth’s Villain Solo, and the love duet between Phoenix and Leona. They are all such different songs that it sounds a little weird.
ACT 2, FINALLY
The act begins on a sour note with Maya playing with the knife and showing off her characterization, which is one of the most infuriating Maya characterizations you’ll sometimes see around the fandom by people who don’t like Maya.
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Maya: Let me whip up my special spirit channeler hamburgers!
sigh.
But then we’re saved (?) by the arrival of EDGEWORTH, who is presumably just here to chat. He asks Phoenix if he’s defending Leona in hopes of winning her back, then says to keep out of it, since it’s a very important case and he can’t understand the gravity of it.
Then Phoenix says this.
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Phoenix: Would you be saying that if you were the one on trial? The defendant is in a dark prison, reaching out for hope... Can you imagine the loneliness and sorrow of being ostracized?
CAN YOU IMAGINE IT, EDGEWORTH? CAN YOU IMAGINE IF YOU WERE ON TRIAL AND I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD DEFEND YOU AND BELIEVED IN YOUR INNOCENCE??
Edgeworth responds to this by essentially rehashing his speech in Turnabout Sisters about how he needs to find all defendants guilty because he can’t guarantee their innocence and all that. Maya gets upset and leaves so that Phoenix and Edgeworth can talk about their childhood in private.
Phoenix once again complains about how people change since nine years old.
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Phoenix then says that he has something Edgeworth doesn’t: the POWER TO BELIEVE! Then Maya comes in and tries to spike Edgeworth’s coffee, so he leaves.
The Class Trial
Phoenix explains a bit about Edgeworth and his backstory to Maya. Namely, the class trial. Phoenix was accused of stealing lunch money, Edgeworth stood up for him, but instead of Larry, Leona stood up for him. I guess Suzuki Kei thought “oh the class trial, if Leona stood up for him, it would be so romantic, because she’s a woman, and he’s a man”, or something like that. 
Edgeworth wanted to become a Great Lawyer Like His Father! But then he turned cold as ice.
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Phoenix: His father got too deeply involved in a case... and paid for it with his life. Edgeworth saw him murdered. He was never the same again. I bet he couldn’t forgive the criminal.
Yeah I bet he couldn’t ever forgive the person he thought killed his father all these years, Phoenix. I bet he really hates that person, Phoenix. I bet he has nightmares about that person killing his father or something, Phoenix.
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Phoenix: He vanished, then returned without his mercy or compassion. He had become a monster. When he lost his father, he also lost the ability to believe in others.
So like... one of the most chilling things about this musical is that they never actually solve DL-6. This probably roughly takes place 15 years after DL-6, since they were about the same age when the class trial started, and at least Leona is 24 now. The next musical takes place three years from now, and in it, Edgeworth refers to von Karma as his mentor, implying he’s still around and doing things.
So, in addition to everything else going wrong with this musical, DL-6 still happens, but von Karma never frames Edgeworth for it fifteen years later. The statute of limitations runs out, and von Karma forever gets away with his crime. And Edgeworth has no idea.
What changes did they make to DL-6, though, you may ask? I’m desperate to know as well. In the third musical, which I’ve watched because I hate myself but am unable to fully understand because I don’t know much Japanese, there is a scene where Miles flashbacks to DL-6. It’s abstract, but he makes gun-throwing motions at Gregory, followed by a gunshot sound.
Therefore, in this musical’s internal canon, either Miles Edgeworth shot his father, or he believes he did for the rest of his life.
... moving on.
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Phoenix: But he still has his humanity. It’s still there, deep down inside!
At least, if nothing else, Phoenix still believes in him. Even this Takarazuka Musical couldn’t touch that.
The Feenie Sweater
Right after this, Larry barges in, and Phoenix leaves him alone with Maya. The musical tries teasing Larry/Maya, but fortunately, Maya’s having none of it.
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Maya: You’re barking up the wrong tree.
Props to this musical for not being as bad as it could have been.
After this, the two sit down on the couch, and Maya asks for more gossip on Phoenix and Leona. Larry launches into a story, which turns into a flashback that ends up being narrated by Phoenix halfway through. This one’s about Phoenix and Leona’s relationship.
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This is an interesting line in here, “I’ll guide you to the future”, for it loosely referencing the sort of love ballad Phoenix sings with Lucia in the second musical which is about “I’ll take you to that radiant future”, and he later sings to the memory of Leona right around the time of his big spiral into despair.
I’m sorry if you haven’t read my other essay and just said “wait what” to what I just typed.
Leona was getting ready to move to New York to defend the weak “in the big city”. This is rather strange wording because it implies that California does not in fact have a big city. She says some things in her conversation with Phoenix that probably plant some of his later issues.
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Leona: This is the first time we’ll be apart since we were kids.
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Leona: We promised we’d always be together.
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Leona: I’ll be waiting. Waiting for you to come to me.
Haha. Sure would be a shame... if something were to happen... and they wouldn’t be able to be together anymore...
So some dancers wearing black come in and take off their outer jackets, to symbolize the passage of time. They circle around Phoenix and Leona. In this, you can just barely see, Phoenix is wearing a pink sweater beneath his jacket.
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“Oh,” I think to myself, “Is that the Feenie sweater? Are they including it here as a reference to the games?”
Then the dancers keep moving.
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THAT IS NOT THE FEENIE SWEATER. That is a pink sweater with a sexily drawn woman on it.
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This is the other half of the reason why I decided to go through with making this essay. 
This is so incredibly funny to me. Suzuki Kei Who Has Played The Games Seven Times has seen the hand-knit bright pink sweater with a giant red heart on it seven times. The sweater Iris, Phoenix’s girlfriend, lovingly knit for him that he wears all the time even though it is one of the tackiest, cheesiest items of clothing to ever exist. And so, when the costume designers were designing the clothes for College Phoenix Wright, they asked themselves: “Should we include the Feenie sweater?”
and “NO,” someone must have shouted, “NO, we can NOT include the Feenie sweater, it is PINK and it has a HEART on it and it’s TOO GIRLY. Phoenix Wright is a MANLY MAN. He would not EVER wear something PINK with a HEART on it.”
“BUT,” someone else said, “it’s a REFERENCE to the original games, where he DID wear a pink sweater with a heart on it! We MUST include it to pander to the fans!”
“WAIT,” a third person interjected. “I have a BRILLIANT IDEA. We can keep the pink... But to make it VERY CLEAR he is a heterosexual, masculine male... we put a sexy woman on it.”
And Person Three Got A Raise.
Thank god we’re finally halfway done this musical.
We Just Have To Go On With Our Lives Now
There’s plot or something happening. Leona breaks up with Phoenix inexplicably over the phone. Probably because of that freaking sweater. Imagine wearing that. God.
Eventually we go back to Phoenix talking to Leona, and he asks about the Jack Lyon case, which is the rip-off version of the Joe Darke case. Leona is pretty cagey about it, but Phoenix proves that she was there in the gallery that day. Leona refuses to answer, claims again that she killed the victim in her case, and leaves.
This makes Phoenix sad, so he starts singing.
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Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.
If this sounds familiar, it’s the part where I started absolutely losing my mind in the second musical because this line had never shown up before then, I’d forgotten it was in this musical, and Phoenix was screaming it alone in a red room, so I thought he was like desperately resorting to a necromancy ritual in hopes of bringing Leona back to life.
Instead, this line actually has CONTEXT, though it does just end up enforcing my theory. This is Phoenix mourning what he used to have with Leona, wanting to bring the “old her” back, because he’s devastated that people sometimes change. There are several flashbacks of their college days where he’s wearing his Sexy Woman Sweater. He does succeed in winning her back at the end of this musical. Before she dies, of course.
Phoenix in musical 2 still believes that he can bring back what he used to have with Leona... even beyond death. That’s something affirmed by this musical. I’m very grateful to it for somehow managing to enforce my nonsensical theory.
Doctor Ema
After this, Phoenix returns to his office, and meets with someone new.
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That’s right! Only now, halfway through the musical, do we actually get to meet the Ema-equivalent to Leona’s Lana-equivalent. Her name is Monica Clyde. She has little rainbow heart stickers on her briefcase, which is the closest thing this musical has to acknowledging that gay people exist.
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But what does this little briefcase contain, you may ask? Scientific investigation tools? No.
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A full surgical toolset. Because you never know when someone’ll get sick, or when someone will need an entire operation in front of you. I guess.
So yes, Monica Clyde is not a forensic scientist in training, but a doctor! She decided to become a doctor because of her parents, who passed away of The Sickness, and so became a doctor in order to save lives like theirs.
Once more this has much darker and deeper implications than the musical is even aware of, because Monica is so anxious about treating sick people that she carries a full surgical toolset around with her at all times, scared to lose someone like she lost her parents... and then sometime in the next three years, Leona, her big sister, is going to die.
Of what? The strange Sickness that claimed her parents? A car accident? A botched spur-of-the-moment surgery? Whatever it is, Monica was unable to save her, even when she’d been training her entire life for it.
Monica is not mentioned at all throughout the second musical. It’s as if she does not exist.
Because unlike Ema of Rise From The Ashes, Monica is not at the heart of this story. She is, primarily, a plot device here to make Leona not trust Phoenix so that he can angst about their relationship. 
What a mess this world is.
The Trial, Part 2
Rather than try to prove Leona’s innocence, Phoenix wants to link the current case to not-SL-9, the Jack Lyon case. He does this by showing this picture.
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Senator Cole, the victim, is in this picture. His younger brother whose name I’ve forgotten, the victim of not-SL-9, is also in this picture. They are brothers. It is apparently novel that they are in the same picture, and somehow makes their cases linked.
As well, Governor Miller is in the picture. I guess you could say like... Governor Miller’s legal counsel is the defendant, so that’s another link? Even though the Governor would presumably know a Senator, so this isn’t an unusual group. Right now Phoenix has absolutely nothing to prove that these two cases are linked other than “hey, these two victims are brothers”, but apparently it works. So they spend a lot of time talking about not-SL-9, since Leona has confessed to the murder on day 1 and there is absolutely nothing indicating that she can’t be immediately declared guilty.
They hid the fact that Monica was a hostage in this not-SL-9, meaning that some of the case records were forged. Here’s Edgeworth’s reaction when this comes out.
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Edgeworth: This is an outrage! I’m the most influential prosecutor in America! There’s nothing I don’t know!
In RFTA, when Edgeworth learns he’d been using forged evidence to give a man the death penalty, he is devastated, his entire worldview is shaken, he sees himself as a monster who could end up becoming horribly corrupt if he isn’t stopped.
Musical Edgeworth goes “I DIDN’T KNOW SOMETHING???”
It’s certainly strange characterization, but I guess Edgeworth is further behind in his character arc than in RFTA, so... ugh. Fine. 
Phoenix calls Monica out as a witness to prove she was involved in the case. This causes Leona to panic, and try to dismiss Phoenix as her attorney, like Lana in RFTA, but Edgeworth interjects to call Monica in anyways. He and Phoenix have a little moment.
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Edgeworth: You said to believe in others. I suppose I’ll try believing in you. Try to keep up.
Phoenix: Edgeworth!
So Monica comes to the stand to testify. We get to see this picture of Monica being held hostage, and not-Joe-Darke’s incredible eyeliner.
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Lots of it is very similar to the actual RFTA, except instead of the victim being stabbed on the knight with the giant knife, he’s instead stabbed with a regular old knife. Leona still refuses to admit to what really happened, until Edgeworth convinces her to believe in Phoenix.
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Edgeworth: Your attorney is a runaway train with a one-track mind. Yet he placed all of his faith in you. Believe in him. You owe him that much.
Leona testifies, and says that when she found the victim, he was stabbed with a scalpel.
Here is where things get weird.
Scalpels Can’t Kill People
So basically earlier in this trial, they talk about how Leona knew that the knife that stabbed the victim was double-edged despite being buried in his chest. The judge questions if this means Leona killed him, but Phoenix is quick to say no, she was searched when she entered the courthouse and couldn’t have concealed a knife.
Yet, Monica was able to bring in her surgical toolkit which contains several sharp knives, scalpels, scissors, etc.
This is the first major contradiction.
Leona continues to say that when she found Monica, and the scalpel stabbed in the victim, she also ran into Governor Miller, who if you haven’t been able to tell yet is the Gant-equivalent of this musical. He offered to help her with the cover-up, etc.
The next bit goes a lot like RFTA. Phoenix accuses Governor Miller, who barges in, says Phoenix has the decisive evidence in his pocket. This is the “butter knife” that Phoenix took from his office when he dug around in confidential documents and stole it for no particular reason. It has Monica’s fingerprints on it! ... And Phoenix’s and Maya’s too probably because they were handling it without gloves, but they don’t mention that part.
Leona cries about how she shouldn’t have trusted Phoenix because he was apparently now blaming Monica, Monica looks terrified, she and Leona have some good sister moments but it’s not as good as it could be if the story was actually about Leona and Monica like how RFTA was about Lana and Ema. But Phoenix has the decisive piece of evidence that can turn this around.
It is this:
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Phoenix: Scalpels are made for medical incisions, not stabbings. So how did it stab the victim?
...
...
...
... What?
So like. Yes, scalpels are made for medical incisions. Medical incisions often involve cutting through flesh, very easily. As a result, they are sharp. Extremely sharp. As in: their purpose is literally to stab people, very specifically.
Yes, they’re easier to control, so that surgeons don’t regularly stab people how they’re not supposed to be stabbed, but it’s not like, impossible to stab someone in a killing way with a scalpel? Admittedly, I have never tried to kill someone using a scalpel. And I do not have experience using a scalpel for surgeries because I am not a surgeon. But I’m pretty sure, if you take a sharp scalpel, and you stab someone in the chest with it with a reasonable amount of force... they die.
Like, is this a particular kind of scalpel that is not very sharp? Is the problem that the blade doesn’t match up with the initial wound? But even then, we don’t have the original unforged autopsy report or even a picture, so how would Phoenix know what the original wound looked like to say it didn’t match up? And even then why wouldn’t Phoenix say that instead of SCALPELS CAN’T STAB PEOPLE???
This is his decisive contradiction and it makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE TO ME!!!
Well Darn I Guess Scalpels Can’t Kill People
This is such a decisive piece of evidence, that scalpels can’t kill people, coming from the man who thought “caught red-handed” does not involve being caught standing over a corpse with blood on your hands, that it causes Governor Miller to confess.
Unlike Gant, who created the murder with Neil Marshall both to ensure that there was decisive evidence to convict Joe Darke, a serial killer who had not left any decisive evidence behind, and gain control over the prosecutor’s office in order to pull similar stunts to get criminals convicted using false evidence, Governor Miller does not have that as his motive. After all, he’s not a police officer. Instead, he ended up accidentally killing not-Joe-Darke, and then set up the incident in order to get Leona on his side. As her parents were both influential lawyers and very respectable, having her and her parents’ reputation on his side could help him become President of America Where This Takes Place.
So, let’s just take a moment to run over some of the things that made the original Rise From The Ashes great, in my opinion. Just for fun.
1 - The heart of the story between the Skye sisters. Lana closing off to protect Ema, Ema wanting to get through to her sister and get back to the way things used to be. Phoenix, in this story, is more of a bystander to this plotline rather than in the heart of it himself.
2 - Edgeworth’s Character Development. Basically RFTA creates an interesting transition between Turnabout Goodbyes and JFA. It causes Edgeworth to re-evaluate everything he knows about being a prosecutor. So quickly on the heels of Turnabout Goodbyes, it crushes the last bit of hope in him. It compares him to Gant, who also hates criminals, and forces him to wonder if his hatred of crime will one day lead to him being a criminal himself. He’s already convicted one person on forged evidence; how many others could there be?
3 - The Ends Justify The Means. ... wait come back, don’t leave. What I found neat about this case was also Gant’s motive. At one point he was presumably an honest person who hated crime and wanted to stop criminals. But over time in the police force, he became corrupted. He wanted to have all criminals convicted. So what do you do when you don’t have the evidence to convict them? Joe Darke was a serial killer who has killed several people and may have killed more if he’d gone free. The only way to stop and convict him was by using forged evidence. Other criminals could hide evidence to get away with their crimes, so people like Gant would make it up to catch them; but then when do you stop? What happens if there’s no evidence because someone is truly innocent? When does the line between “this person is a criminal and I want to stop them” and “I just want to convict everyone I’m dealing with” become blurred? This is also something he shares with Edgeworth and helps to advance his character.
All three of these things are either lessened or outright ignored in this musical. Leona and Monica’s story takes a backseat to Phoenix and Leona’s Love Story, with Monica only showing up halfway through, and mainly as an excuse as to why Leona is withdrawn. Edgeworth doesn’t seem to blame himself for the forged evidence he used, and doesn’t have a crisis questioning his morality over it. And Governor Miller’s motive is purely power. Unlike Gant, who would have become Chief of Police whether he solved SL-9 or not, Miller needed Leona to win the presidency. And instead of asking her to help him with his campaign like a normal person, he just blackmailed her instead.
... How do you play the games seven times and miss this much?
The Case Finally Ends
god. we’re almost there.
The case ends, Leona is declared not guilty but will still face trial for covering up murders and such. Probably less of a sentence than Lana because she was not involved in ongoing police corruption? Either way she’s dead in three years, so she’s got something a bit more concerning coming up.
She’s led away. Phoenix sings a bit about Leona before being interrupted by Edgeworth... who has something important to tell him.
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Edgeworth: You awakened within me those once-cherished emotions I had discarded. I see visions of a distant, nostalgic past.
So basically this is the unnecessary feelings of the musical. Something along the lines of “seeing you again and fighting for my former ideals is making me question many things about myself.”
How does Phoenix respond?
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Phoenix: Edgeworth... Try talking normally for a chance.
Sure, we were all thinking it, but that’s a little cold, Phoenix.
Edgeworth tries a smooth recovery.
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Edgeworth: I don’t do... idle chit-chat.
This doesn’t accomplish much. So he leaves to allow Leona to visit with Phoenix alone. He’s got to go change for something more important coming up.
Leona and Phoenix decide that they’re going to get back together once Leona is done her sentence! They make a promise that is very funny if you know she’ll be dead in three years.
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Phoenix: I’ll be waiting. For you.
There are a lot of hugs here, I’m not screencapping them all. There are also several moments where their faces get very close together and like, their nose brushes the other’s cheek or something, but they never actually kiss. Is it because the actresses weren’t comfortable with it (valid), or they thought kissing would be too much for the musical (sure, whatever), or since both characters are played by women the show staff did not want two women kissing on stage (probably the real answer)? I don’t like watching kisses, but I kept bracing myself for one and then it never happened, so.
Phoenix ends the main part of the musical with one last musical number starring my personal favourite piece:
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Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.
I like to think that at this point, this is present-day Phoenix, after finishing his reminiscing, still desperately wishing he could bring Leona back from death.
But alas, he cannot. And so, after one last daydream of them dancing together on the beaches of California, singing about their love, the musical ends.
Dance Time!
This starts at exactly the two hour mark, if you’re interested in watching what is, once again, one of the only fun parts of this musical.
Seriously, Edgeworth’s actress kills it here, when I first saw this I went “oh, this is why I saw so many people being gay for her on twitter.”
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Edgeworth’s song is an encore of “My Rule”, so it’s lots of fun. Afterwards Phoenix gets another fun piece.
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Then we get to the love ballad part, which I can probably overanalyze, I feel like I haven’t done enough ridiculous over-analyzing in this essay in comparison to the other.
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Uhhh so the fog represents how Phoenix feels lost in this world without Leona. You can see it in the second screenshot separating the two of them, representing the barrier of death between the two of them. Idk it’s midnight I’m getting worn out from having to think about this musical for so long.
But his mourning over Leona’s death becomes even more apparent in the credits, where Phoenix sings that one line again:
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Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.
I’m not fixing that screenshot, I think it’s oddly fitting, in a way. That’s me right now.
Then at the very end, he sings this song.
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Phoenix: I’ll spend... this eternal life... soaring through... the heavens!
Technically, this refers to his name Phoenix, but let’s dig a little deeper. He spends the rest of his life soaring through the heavens... the heavens that Leona went to after her untimely death, perhaps?
Overall, the musical becomes much more interesting when you just see it as a prequel to the second musical. This musical establishes many core concepts of Phoenix’s character: his refusal to believe in the concept of things changing, for one, and also his extreme dependency on Leona who he was never separated from since they were kids and where he based his entire life around her dreams and ideals. All he can think about is her. And in the end, he promises to wait for her in California.
Yet, to paraphrase Miles Edgeworth, all that is waiting for him is her death. Their dream of opening up a Mom & Pop Law Firm will never come true.
Thanks again for bearing with me even though this wasn’t as funny!
145 notes · View notes
ibijau · 3 years
Note
Here's a prompt: Lan Xichen somehow dies while in seclusion—or at least that's what the rumors say—and Nie Huaisang deals with the consequences. And heartbreak. As the saying goes, you don't realize how much you love someone until they're gone.
Okay, if that sort of plot interests you, do yourself a favour and check Between the Shadow and the Soul which is exactly that. It's an amazing xisang fic, I cannot recommend it warmly enough!
And now:
Warning in this fic for a lot of references to suicide and depression
It struck Nie Huaisang as interesting that he felt so little about the whole thing. His reaction upon learning the news had been first to dismiss it as a joke in poor taste. Once it had been confirmed, and his presence had been required, he'd been too busy planning his trip to give it much thought. Then he'd arrived in the Cloud Recesses, just in time for the funeral, and gone through the motions of what was expected of him. At most he'd felt mildly when asked to keep vigil, as if there was still any connection between them. He'd only agreed for the sake of appearances, refused to look at the body, and gave his seat to the next mourner as soon as was polite.
The ceremony itself was conducted to perfection, as could be expected of the Lans. Every word was said the right way, every gesture graceful. It was almost a beautiful thing to behold, Nie Huaisang distantly thought. Lan Qiren's monotone voice was better suited for such events than for teaching, certainly. And Lan Wangji had always looked his best when in the throes of loss and despair. Sadness just became those Lans a little too well, as if they'd been born for tragedy.
Perhaps they were.
Nie Huaisang did not dwell on the subject, and allowed time to pass him by until at last the ceremony was entirely over. He would have gone home right then if he could have, his duty accomplished, but it would have been noticed and discussed. Nie Huaisang did not want to get mixed up in the gossip that was sure to spread around after this.
“Did they tell anyone what he died of?” Sect Leader Yao asked in a too loud whisper while waiting for the refreshment promised to the guests.
“I've only heard that because of his seclusion, it took them several days to even notice he had passed,” Sect Leader Ouyang replied. Then, noticing Nie Huaisang standing alone nearby, he gestured at him to join them. Nie Huaisang tried to pretend he hadn't seen them, but it was in vain as Sect Leader Ouyang called him by name until he couldn't be ignored anymore. “Join us please! You were his friend, weren't you? Surely you must know more than us.”
It was a sign of the hollowness that had seized Nie Huaisang since learning of the news that he did not laugh. What friends they had been indeed. Once, perhaps... but no, the word would never have been right to describe them. They were acquaintances at best, brought together out of love for Mingjue, torn apart after his death even if Lan Xichen hadn't known it then.
He'd learned it, in time.
Two years earlier, when Nie Huaisang had finally given a proper funeral to his brother, Lan Xichen had tried to talk to him about everything that had happened. Lan Xichen had wanted the truth, and he'd certainly gotten it. Nie Huaisang, bitter and angry and broken after going through the pain of burying his brother again, had not spared the other man a single detail of everything he'd done, everything he'd learned, everything he'd felt.
Two weeks after that, Lan Xichen had entered seclusion and they'd never met again, unless one counted what little time Nie Huaisang had spent with the other man's coffin.
Nie Huaisang did not think it counted.
“I have not been told anything more than anyone else,” Nie Huaisang said, more careful than the other two to keep his voice down.
“It is just too odd,” Sect Leader Yao said. “A man his age doesn't die without reason, and his cultivation was far too great to allow for sickness!”
“Surely I don't know what Yao-zongzhu might be suggesting.”
“I am just saying it is very odd,” Sect Leader Yao insisted, glancing toward Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji with what he had to consider a knowing expression.
“Ah,” Nie Huaisang said.
They were thinking Lan Xichen had been murdered, then.
It was amazing, he thought, that anyone could misunderstand Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji this much. Perhaps the second's reputation was no longer as pristine as it had once been, due to his open association with the Yiling Patriarch, but he could hardly have been accused of killing his brother when he profited so little from his death. It was to Lan Qiren that the title of Sect Leader went, something which had been decided long ago, and which Lan Wangji would have known. Not that Lan Wangji would ever have wanted such a title. And as to accusing Lan Qiren of murdering his nephew, it was ridiculous. There were few men in the world whose honour Nie Huaisang believed in, but Lan Qiren was definitely of the number.
If it was not an ordinary sickness that had killed Lan Xichen, and it was not another person either, then it left only one option.
The Lans tended to easily fall prey to melancholy, Lan Xichen had once told Nie Huaisang, during one of those rare true and sincere conversations between them, when they had both bared more of their soul to the other than they'd intended. And that melancholy was a powerful sort, Lan Xichen had explained, more dangerous than any disease, any war, any demon. The way he had spoken of it had made it clear that Lan Xichen himself particularly struggled with it ever since becoming Sect Leader during the war, a struggle he hid under a mask no less carefully crafted than Nie Huaisang’s. Lan Xichen had told him he thought that melancholy would overcome him someday as it had done others in his family, an affliction no less powerful than that the Nie suffered.
So it was clear to Nie Huaisang that the manner of Lan Xichen's death was...
His whole body shook as he hurriedly fought to contain a sob.
“Nie-zongzhu?” Sect Leader Ouyang said with concern. “Are you unwell?”
Nie Huaisang shook his head. He was fine. He was unaffected. They'd never even been close.
Another sob had to be contained.
Nie Huaisang took a deep breath, and smiled weakly.
“Nothing dramatic,” he said with a voice he scarcely recognised as his own. “A moment of... I have known him for so long.”
“Of course. This must be hard on you. He must have been like a brother to you.”
Nie Huaisang made a noise. A sob, or a laugh, he could not have said, but it was too loud and attracted more attention than he cared to deal with. Having spent the last couple of years carefully working to undo the damage he had done to his own reputation, Nie Huaisang could not have born to be seen crying in public, something he now felt the danger of. He muttered some vague apology to the two men standing near him, and excused himself from the assembly. He managed to keep himself in check until he had left everyone behind, and only broke into tears when he was sure to be alone.
Gone was the numbness that had so puzzled him since hearing that Lan Xichen had been found dead, because the full horror of that loss finally hit him.
Lan Xichen was gone.
Lan Xichen was dead.
He would never again come by the Unclean Realm in answer to a desperate plea for help that never really needed his input. There would be no more praises of Nie Huaisang's birds, his fans, his paintings. No more gentle comforting and undeserved patience.
Lan Xichen was dead.
And if Nie Huaisang had acted with less cruelty, Lan Xichen might not have killed himself.
-
Nie Huaisang, a month after returning home, wondered whether melancholy was a contagious ailment, and whether one might catch it from sitting near the corpse of a man who had died from it.
He made the mistake of asking Nie Liyan, his favourite cousin and heir, expecting her to laugh or tease him. Instead she gave him a most pitiful look, and told him that melancholy was most often caught in such a manner, especially if the corpse was that of a person held dear.
It had never occurred to Nie Huaisang to think that Lan Xichen might be dear to him. The man was merely there, full of good intentions and blind to the nature of those around him. They had shared pleasant moments together perhaps, but no more than Nie Huaisang had done with others. In fact, Nie Huaisang was quite sure he had laughed more with Jin Guangyao than with Lan Xichen. If asked, he might have admitted that he'd held warmer feelings than he ought to have toward the man who had so cruelly murdered his brother. But Lan Xichen?
Nie Huaisang would have been hard pressed to decide what he felt for the man while he was alive. Only in death was he forced to realise that Lan Xichen too had been an important figure in his life and, yes, perhaps dearer than he would have liked. But it was hard to hate a man such as Lan Xichen, he told Nie Liyan when the realisation became too bothersome to bear it alone. Nie Huaisang simply could not imagine that anyone in the world might have met Lan Xichen and not liked him.
“I've never understood what people saw in him,” Nie Liyan had just replied. “And I've told you as much many times, even before your brother's death. His looks were good but not to the degree everyone claimed, he smiled too much, and he spoke too much like a book.”
“That says more about your tastes than about his qualities,” Nie Huaisang retorted hotly.
“Perhaps. Or it says something about your tastes.”
That insolent answer had not pleasant Nie Huaisang, who had promptly changed the topic, and never breached it again with her.
-
The melancholy did not ease with time, but instead invited some friends to live with it in Nie Huaisang's heart.
Such as a sharp terror over the concept of his own mortality.
Nie Huaisang had always known he would die early. It ran in the family, and he'd seen it happen twice already to his own relative. Considering his own temper, his weak and unstable cultivation, Nie Huaisang had long feared that he would not even live long enough to see his brother avenged. This had made him frustrated with the slow pace he'd been forced to endure, which in turn had only had a worse effect on his general state. Things had improved after the death of Jin Guangyao, making Nie Huaisang hope he might perhaps make it to the venerable age of forty, something neither his brother nor his father had managed.
The death of Lan Xichen robbed him of that hope.
It was only, Nie Huaisang told himself, that the loss had reminded him people died of reasons other than familial curses or to pay the price of their hubris. Death, even for cultivators, was not an uncommon occurrence, so no man could leave his bed in the morning and be certain he would return to it at night. And if he were to die now, what would he have to show for it except a sect that still wouldn’t be treated seriously, and the blood on his hands?
That consideration was also an important one in making a decision. No matter how hard he tried, Nie Huaisang couldn’t seem to correct the reputation he had given his sect. When people talked about the changes happening in Qinghe Nie, the way it might has started to become reliable once more, they always felt the need to point out that it could be nothing more than a stroke of luck, something that was sure to return to normal very soon under Nie Huaisang’s poor guidance. It was a source of great annoyance to him that people now considered it normal for Qinghe Nie to be weak and useless, when not twenty years earlier it had been greater than Lanling Jin.
It would take a dramatic change for people to accept that Qinghe Nie was returning to its roots.
So Nie Huaisang told Nie Liyan that he would abdicate in her favour.
She was more than ready for this, he told her. They had been working in tandem since long before the death of Jin Guangyao, and she had proven multiple times that she would handle the position of Sect Leader better than he ever would. She was a good administrator, with great martial art skill, a cultivation level that was among the best in their generation. She was also an excellent teacher, and well liked by all the disciples, from young juniors who had never known their sect’s glorious days to elders who’d known Nie Huaisang’s father as a young child. Nie Huaisang and Nie Liyan had always agreed that she would succeed him if he died the way his family so often did, or whenever he would decide to give up on a position he had never wanted.
“Are you sure now is the right time?” Nie Liyan only asked him.
“There is no right time for these things. But Lanling Jin is still not quite stable yet, Gusu Lan is in the hands of an old friend, and Yunmeng Jiang is caught up in the Jins’ business. That means the three great sects won’t give you a hard time as you settle in, and I know you can handle the others.”
“And what will you do?”
“Travel, perhaps,” Nie Huaisang replied without conviction.
He had never planned for what he would do after handing her his title, and realised suddenly that he’d never expected to be alive for that. No matter how often they discussed the possibility of a quiet succession, Nie Huaisang had never really considered he would be luckier than his father and brother. Yet there he was, suddenly forced to accept that tomorrow was something that existed for him while also dreading the uncertainty of his own mortality.
Nie Liyan accepted his answer, and they set out to plan the succession, calculate the best possible date for it, and choose how to announce the news to other sects. They did not talk about Nie Huaisang’s future any further, for which he was grateful. He had a vague suspicion that Nie Liyan thought he intended to kill himself, which would explain why she kept suggesting he took a companion with him when he left.
Nie Huaisang promised to consider it. He even did wonder who in the world might be a travelling companion worth putting up with. Nobody from his own sect would do, as he thought they would quickly grow bored of any destination that might appeal to him. And there was no one left outside of Qinghe Nie who he felt close enough to. It was only a pity, he thought one night, that Lan Xichen had passed away, as he would have been a very interesting person to have on a journey. Someone who shared his sense of beauty and his love of great landscape, who would not complain if Nie Huaisang asked to stop and paint but might instead join him. And perhaps travelling in that manner might have lifted some of Lan Xichen’s melancholy in a way that locking himself up away from the world could never have done.
Perhaps it could have saved Lan Xichen.
Nie Huaisang slept little that night, half drowning on sorrows and what-if that could never come true.
Come morning, he told Nie Liyan that he would travel alone, and she did not insist.
-
Nie Huaisang left the Unclean Realm as soon as the succession ceremony was over so he wouldn’t have a chance to change his mind. He recently bought an excellent horse, and the animal was packed with whatever belongings could not be put inside a qiankun pouch. Nie Huaisang had money, he had clothes, everything needed to paint and write. He even had a destination in mind at last, one suggested to him by Lan Qiren, of all people. The old teacher, upon learning of his intention to step down, had written him a thoughtful letter wishing him the best of luck in his new life, inviting him to come and stay in the Cloud Recesses if he ever went that way so they might play weiqi together, and suggesting he should go visit Baidi in his exile, where he too might become inspired to write some poetry. Perhaps, Lan Qiren added, a place so rich in history would help him find new meaning to his life.
The idea had something romantic to it. More than that, though, Nie Huaisang remembered that several times over the course of their acquaintance, Lan Xichen had expressed a wish to visit the city, while always failing to find an excuse to do so. It seemed appropriate that Nie Huaisang’s first destination should be inspired by the man whose death had forced him to reconsider his own life.
So Nie Huaisang set out toward Baidi, and promised himself to enjoy his time there, for Lan Xichen’s sake as well as his own.
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citydreamgrls · 3 years
Text
they were roommates - part one
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a weasley twins x fem!reader fic 
summary: she had nowhere to go, fleeing home to pursue something along the lines of freedom, so being welcomed into the entrepreneurial twins life was a whole world of new experiences waiting to happen. 
an: i would just like to point out that this isn’t a fic with a polyamorous relationship, sorry if that was what some people wanted, instead i wanted to keep which twin is the love interest a secret until the end. if u guys want to guess after reading this first part, feel free to do so, i would love to hear your guys’ reasons too !!  secondly, i would like to say a huge huge thank you to everyone for getting me to 600 followers, that’s absolutely mad like i’m blown away beyond compare, i love u all millions and billions i really am so grateful so thank you . hope you enjoy this first part, as always, <33
words: 5,790
warnings: swearing?
None of the nights seemed to turn into excitement, but this particular Tuesday evening in the Leaky Cauldron was passing slower than the rest had done. The paintings on the walls cast their weary eyes over the few lonely drinkers scattered across the dim room as even they contemplated calling it an early night. Y/n flicked through an old magazine and wondered if this place had ever seen much action, or whether the inn had become somewhere that paintings came to rest alongside grumpy travellers.
The girl hadn’t worked behind the bar long, only a handful of months now. But since then not a single bar fight had broken out, no one ordered anything out of the ordinary, and she struggled to remember seeing a single nice man pass through the doors. Besides the Weasley twins of course, who were running late for their weekly drink.
“Slow night?” Hannah came up behind her, carrying a stack of clean glasses and placing them under the counter. The girl swiped away her magazine and nodded, doing her best to hide the guilty blush that grew on her cheeks whenever she lied. It had always been a curse.
“I can do that if you want,” She offered, taking over and letting her boss stand up straight again. There was a strange air of awkwardness between the pair, despite the fact that they had grown close since she had started working as a barmaid.
“It’s been like this a lot lately, just… empty.” Hannah huffed, pulling up two stools and letting the younger girl sit beside her for a while.
“Yeah, makes the time pass a lot slower.”
“Neville’s getting worried,” The woman chewed her lip, gazing around at the lack of people. “He thinks it won’t be long before we need to do something drastic.”
“Should I be worried?” Y/n asked, knowing everything rode on this flimsy job.
Just as the girl posed her question the two front doors burst open, revealing the Weasley twins along with two others that she recognised from their past visits.
“I’ll talk to you later darling,” The boss stood, squeezing her shoulder and going to greet the regulars who she knew so well.
As Neville appeared from the back office to do the same she was called over to the far table by a man who she’d already brought too many drinks to. With a sigh, she obeyed his whines, and went over to see what he wanted.
“About time sweet cheeksh,” He slurred, his head propped up by a weary arm while the other gestured wildly as he spoke. “Another round darling-” She nodded, taking his money from the table and turning to leave, but he reached out for her hand.
She shivered beneath his touch, the stench of bile and alcohol filling her nose as she tried not to vomit on the spot. It was best to just ride out whatever he wanted, knowing better than to anger any kind of customer.
“Why don’t you join me when you get those drinks sorted- I haven’t got another chair but I’m sure my lap would do nicely.” He grinned, showing off the layer of yellow on his teeth.
Y/n gulped back her grunt and pretended to smile, sighing with relief when he let go of her and slumped against the wall beside him. The feeling of his hand lingered on her until she managed to distract her mind a little, smiling wider when the twins came up to the bar to order.
“Evening boys,” She sniffed back the nerves and greeted them with a polite welcome. “Not giving you trouble was he?” One of them asked, nodding over to the drunken mess.
“Nothing I can’t handle,”
“Well you let us know if not,” The other chimed, their charms always making her feel comfortable around them. Which was much more than could be said for most of the creeps who roamed the inn each night.
“That’s very good of you both, thank you-” Her smile never faltered, they always had noticed that, “What can I get for you then?”
“Two hog’s heads, one rum and I’ll have…”
“Come on Fred,” The other nudged his brother, the girl finally able to differentiate them, that was until the next day when she wouldn’t be able to recognise the clothes they chose.
“Firewhiskey would be great thanks y/n,” He smiled sweetly, leaning up against the bar as she rang up their orders on the till. He delved into the pockets of his trousers as George left to speak to Neville a bit longer, placing the money in her hand. “Keep the change too,” “A-are you sure?” She stuttered, looking down at the remaining 3 galleons in her hand.
“George never tips, so consider it his debt too.” The boy scoffed, leaving to join the rest of his group. The girl pocketed the money before anyone else could see her doing so and went to fix the drunken man his seventh drink of the night.
He grumbled about how much work he did that no one appreciated, as his eyes raked over her body in a queasily slow trance. The man didn’t stop at that, further pressing her to sit on his knee and let him feel her up. Crude remarks fell from his lips as if he’d relayed them to every woman he’d come across, as if it was second nature. All the while, she stood and let him ramble on, doing her best to ignore what he was saying and just nod along mindlessly. This wasn’t even the worst one, the girl sighed to herself, grimacing at the way his fingers toyed with the hems of her skirt as if he was going to try and slither inside it.
With perfect timing, Neville called her back to the bar, faking some questions about the menu so that she had an excuse to dismiss herself from the dog’s company and scurry off. She heard him call after her, but couldn’t make out what exactly it was he was saying. The girl prayed that he was too drunk to actually get up and walk over to the bar, or else he would become truly relentless.
-
No matter what, y/n always smiled, regardless of who was talking to her or at her. And when she wasn’t dealing with the unruly men of diagon alley, she was happy, she was lucky that she had a job and somewhere to stay. She had no reason to be unhappy.
Fred and George liked that about her. That in such a dimly lit, run down little place like the cauldron, such light could shine through with her presence. Both of them had mentioned it once on their drunken walk back home one night, that they wished they could afford to hire someone else at the shop because she would be perfect for it.
Y/n always smiled because most of the time she was a happy person, until there was no reason to be happy. She discovered that dreadful sinking feeling later that night once the pub closed and the girl was finishing up with her cleaning.
Neville and Hannah were speaking in hushed voices nearby, words that she couldn’t make out over the sound of her brush swishing over the stone ground. But they continued to glance over at her when they believed she wasn’t watching, which made her heart tighten with nervous anticipation.
“Y/n… darling.” Hannah’s sweet voice sounded through the empty room, startling her slightly. The girl stood up straight and smiled, a sight which made her boss want to cry on the spot. None of this was going to be easy. “Could you come into the office with me, please.”
She followed, her hands shaky as she left the broom leant up against a lone table. The door shut behind them with a finalising jolt as the woman sat down before her, prompting her own body to do the same.
The air became thick, and constricting as her knees locked together politely. Hannah seemed just as nervous as she, delaying the inevitable by shuffling paperwork around and shoving into nearby drawers. Finally the movement ceased and she had no choice but to bite the bullet.
“I know we already spoke today, about how the business is going here, and I promise that Neville and I have tried to do everything we can to get around this. But I’m afraid we’ve been left with no other choice y/n.”
The sound of her name felt like a stab, one short sound that cut through her skin and deep into the bone. The girl dwelled on that feeling, hoping that whatever followed would hurt less in contrast. It didn’t.
“We have to let you go y/n,” The knife plunged deeper, somehow splitting open all her organs on its way through her body. She froze, knowing that in this moment her world was falling apart all around her like dominoes.
“A-and the room? I’m supposing you need it?” Her voice was wavering, constantly on the edge as she confirmed all the priorities.
“I’m so sorry,” The gesture was appreciated, but it did nothing to help in the moment as the now homeless girl’s mind raced.
“Thank you anyway, for the past few months.” It was a sudden bravery that brought her to her feet as she announced how she would pack her things right away.
In truth, she needed to be alone, just for a few minutes. So she could let it all go, cast a muffliato and sob away her worries for a small amount of precious time. Hannah didn’t dare follow her, knowing nothing could fix it for the younger girl, instead she brought the bottle of gin from the bar into the office and took long, thoughtful sips until it was no longer the only thing playing through her mind.
-
When the girl gathered her things and apparated down to the front door with them, Neville was there with a sad smile upon his face. Only giving her a brief goodbye, before swiftly leaving to busy himself with yet another maintenance job around the building. He never was one for complex emotions, so she didn’t think bad of him for escaping an awkward situation.
Y/n opened the front doors, seeing the pouring rain before her and almost bursting into yet another round of tears. Not that her red raw eyes could take it much longer. Maybe it was because she had been standing up for the good part of eight hours, or maybe just the pitiful sight of the gloomy street before her was enough to make her knees shake. As if they were going to buckle beneath her and send her crumpling to the ground.
But she shuffled forward, her trunk following behind her and she had quietly charmed it to do so. Admittedly she didn’t have a lot, when she had decided to try and live alone it had become a rushed affair to say the least. So she only owned a number of outfits within that case, along with some books and other little items she had deemed important enough to bring alone. That, and her guitar case, which loomed over her shoulder like a stalking figure in the night. The one thing she definitely didn’t have, was a coat to shelter her from the oncoming rain.
The girl walked a few steps, round the side of the building, and found a pile of crates to rest on beneath a small dripping canopy. It was dry, for now, and it gave her a chance to think properly. She needed to figure something out fast.
But y/n’s mind was full of white noise, watching puddles form between the cobbled pathway before her and thinking how she used to love the rain as a child. It had been relaxing and beautiful from the safety of her childhood bedroom, the window facing her parent’s courtyard as she watched them leave for work each morning.
Back then they would both turn and wave, with a generous smile on their faces, always reminding the young girl how they wished to see her when they returned. They were always happy when she was a child, the three of them a cacophony of laughs and giggles. Until it stopped. Her parents worked together, but never left the house together, and neither of them stopped to wave her goodbye, no matter how many times she waited for them to do so. They just stopped being happy, and as y/n shifted her weight upon the damp crates she realised that maybe her once beloved parents were never happy at all.
They became distant. To one another and to her, even more so as she grew older and became her own person. They tried to oppress it, probably seeing her joyful exterior and constant smiles and not recognising where it had come from. Not either of them. It angered them further, seeing her be such a resilient person, because they wished for her to feel the same neverending hurt they had caused one another. Regardless of the fact that it wasn’t her emotion to own.
Y/n remembered the night she was handed a file by her father, feeling stunned to have been called into his study while he was working. Often he would go inside and not appear for days at a time, so she knew whatever it was, it had to be important.
She read over the words he’d laid out for her, detailing their plans for her, what they wanted for her future. It was a plan of her life, given to her by two people who couldn’t be bigger strangers. But it wasn’t hers, it felt nothing like hers. She wanted to be someone, and she wanted to do it for herself, not because her parents feel it’s financially best.
The words, writer… and prophet echoed constantly around the page as she tried to make sense of it all. Her father barely looked up from his work as she struggled to remain calm, her lungs losing all motor function as she felt her stomach twist and turn. That was when she realised she had to leave, do something for herself.
Rain had been such a comforting thing for y/n, when she was a child. Now it covered her like a plague, and drenched her down to the bone as she did all she could to forget about that life. It had been her home, her playground, her school. It had been her whole life, without much chance to be free in the rest of the world.
Now it was nothing. She wanted it to be nothing. There had to be something she could do, there had to be somewhere she could go. Because that place was no longer an option.
“Y/n?” A voice made her head whip up, the tears on her cheeks easily disguised as the rain if it wasn’t for the way she snivelled to herself. She hadn’t even felt herself begin to cry, yet here she was, and it was a pitiful sight to see.
The light was bad in the alley, but when the two tall figures got nearer she recognised them instantly. Her heart broke a little more to see the worry in the twins’ eyes as they quickly took in the sight of her cramped body amongst her belongings.
“Are you leaving town then?” She thinks it was George, asked, he had been the one wearing a black shirt when she’d seen them earlier. The girl was in a daze, her head taking in their words a lot slower than it should have been as she begged herself not to cry in front of them.
To them, she looked like she was in a dream. Her eyes glazed over even as she glanced their way, making it look like she wasn’t really there with them. George’s question caught her off guard a bit, the girl looking as though she had forgotten where she was as she looked around her with bewilderment. Then the look of confusion fell to one of despair when it clicked once again, she was all alone.
“I suppose I am.” Even the two men could hear how her voice begged to break as she spoke with an airy tone. This was the first time they had seen her anything but bright and smiley.
It broke their hearts, in all honesty.
“Do you need somewhere to stay the night?” Fred, this time, asked. He knelt down to meet her eye level, their tall forms always towering above her at the best of times.
“We have a particularly comfy couch at our place,” George added, following suit with the kneeling.
“It’s got five star reviews,”
“And probably a few galleons hidden down the back if you’re lucky.”
Their smiles made her giggle, and it was all they could have asked for in the moment.
“That’s very kind of you,” Her sweet tone was back, like she’d taken control of her head again, “But I couldn’t ask that of you two.” It was her default to be polite, not wanting to be a burden to anyone. It was the one thing her nanny had taught her before being let go when she was twelve, not to ask anything of anyone but yourself.
“Nonsense,” Fred stood up, taking her guitar case that was leant up against the brick wall and swinging it over his shoulder.
“Really, I’ll figure something o-out - it’s fine!” She tried to protest, but the twins had already decided her fate. George lifted her trunk with ease, and Fred held out a hand for her, prompting the girl to clumsily lift herself off the jumble of crates with his assistance.
“Come on then,” They said, starting off towards the brighter part of diagon alley.
She didn’t move, Fred having let go of her as soon as she steddied herself again. They looked back at her, both frowning with the same face as she tried not to laugh at how they were so similar they even acted like one another.
“Well you better come with us-” “Or else it’ll look like we’ve robbed you!”
The girl just looked down at her feet, feeling as though they were only doing this because they couldn’t leave her out in the rain. Which was true. But the twins knew that she was someone worth helping out.
“Do you have anywhere else to go?” George asked, shifting the case into his other hand nonchalantly as they waited for her to come along with them. Silently she shook her head, embarrassed to meet their eyes as she admitted defeat.
“Then what are you waiting for?” Fred chimed in, still wearing their signature smile.
Y/n couldn’t help but return the sentiment, she didn’t have to be alone for at least one night. That was something to smile about, so she smiled. Her feet surged her body forward, a small skip noticeable as she reached the two patient men.
“We do look like we’ve just mugged you.” George laughed as they all walked through the alley and towards their shop, her little life packed away and in their hands. The girl slotted between them, having to catch up with their longer strides every now and then, as both twins chatted away as if nothing was amiss.
-
“Here’s the palace itself,” “Our pride and joy!” They announced, ushering her into the shop lined with all the products an excited teenage wizard could wish for. The shelves seemed to be full to the brim, some things piled up as a display. As haphazard and chaotic as it looked, y/n couldn’t deny that the bright colours shimmering off everything she could see instilled a happiness inside her that she rarely felt as a child. This would have been her dream when she was younger.
The twins’ shop was well known in the alley, by almost everyone who visited the leaky cauldron. Yet she had never dared step inside it herself. Most days she would have been busy with jobs around the inn, and on the off chance that she ventured around any other establishments, it was purely for essentials.
The two men watched as she scanned all that she could see from the doorway, her eyes wide and inviting with each new discovery. They would see kids come in every single day with the same reaction, yet with her it seemed new. It was if she had never seen a toy before.
“Have you eaten yet?” Fred asked, weaving through some unopened boxes to reach the stairs. Even on them there was an endless supply of treats to be found.
“I’m not hungry… thank you.” She followed behind him, slowly, with George closing up the front doors and setting up security wards.
“That wasn’t the question silly,” He laughed, catching up. “Have you eaten tonight?”
“No- but I’m really fine without.”
Once they reached the very top of the long set of stairs, past the ‘staff only’ sign, a door was kicked open in front of her. The apartment inside was a sight for sore eyes, and also the furthest thing from what y/n had envisioned on the walk there.
From how high they had gotten inside the shop, the girl presumed that the flat above had to be pokey and a lot smaller than what she was seeing. It was like a large loft, with brick walls and two levels and these huge windows that looked well over diagon alley. She could see all the lights of muggle London shining amongst the dark sheeted sky.
“My rooms up there, and George is through there.” Fred explained, nodding towards the opening to a small hallway and setting down her things in the excess of open space they had. It was comfortable.
“And here’s your bed!” The other twin exclaimed, throwing himself onto the huge sofa that stretched beneath one of the windows and came out into the room in an L shape. They weren’t lying when they said it was comfortable, because she could tell it was even by looking at it.  
“Right! I, for one, am starving.” Fred announced, walking through to the open kitchen, his footsteps echoing on the floor as he went. “What about you y/n?”
The girl was too busy staring out the window to hear him. She’d never seen the city this way before. Her old house was well out in the country, and the alley didn’t give much of a chance for enchanting views. It seemed as though this was the exception.
“Just make her something, she’s busy.” George chuckled, watching her from the sofa. The girl turned and looked at him confused, but the man just shook his head with a smile. “Nothing important,” He whispered and let her go back to the hypnotising view.
-
As they sat down to eat together, George asked y/n many questions about her life, determined to learn all he could about her in one evening.
“Let her swallow first will you!” Fred huffed, passing her a glass of water so she didn’t choke in the process.
“I was homeschooled all my life, well- up until I moved really.” The girl smiled politely, trying not to go into too much detail with her answers. The two men were so kind, though, that it was hard not to tell them everything she’d been holding in. “So you didn’t finish it all?”
“I left before I got the chance to,”
They nodded in understanding, but she could see the cogs turning in their heads as they both took another bite of their food, all in unison. She snickered a little, enjoying the way they effortlessly put on a show with their mannerisms.
“Did you run away!” They both cried out, startling her as she sat across from them.
“W-well… I um- yes I d-did really.” A wry laugh sounded as she spoke, an out of place sound amongst the shock that displayed over Fred and George’s faces.
“Woah, did something bad happen?”
“George! You can’t just ask that- you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to y/n.” Fred rolled his eyes at his brother, but the girl felt a sense of relief that they asked, it felt nice to have the chance to tell someone after keeping it to herself all this time. It felt more out of place to not tell them.
“It’s okay,” She chuckled at them both, “My parents weren’t very happy people, and they both kind of kept their lives centered around work. I had no problem with it, either than the lack of freedom I had at home, but it changed when they basically showed me a plan for my life.”
The twins listened intently, nodding along with her words and silently reacting accordingly. They both frowned with the last bit, never hearing of someone having their lives planned out for them before.
“They planned your life? Isn’t that a bit, you know-”
“Controlling,” Fred finished, a look of pity on his face.
“We had different ideas, they wanted me to be a writer at the prophet when I’d shown no interest in journalism or even writing before.”
“That’s mad,” George said in a hushed tone, not wanting to cut her off.
“It was then that I realised the only way I was going to do what I wanted, was if I left. So I just packed my things and came here, hoping to find somewhere to stay with what little money I had. Hannah was nice enough to take me in free of charge, so long as I worked behind the bar for it.”
“Both her and Neville really are saints.” “It’s so much better than I could have asked for, but now they can’t afford it. It’s all understandable, it’s just a pain that I can’t ask my parents for help.”
All the while that she recalled her story, the girl smiled, reminding the men that she was a lot stronger than people might assume. Given what she’d been through, it was amazing that she hadn’t broken down already.
“We’ll figure something out for you, all of us.” Fred smiled, glad to see colour in her cheeks now that she was in the warmth of their loft compared to the drizzly alleyway.
“It’s not the end of the world if your parents don’t support you either, there’s plenty more people in the world who will.” George reassured her, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“Oh godric yeah,” Fred joined in, “Our folks went bloody mental when they heard this was what we wanted to start up instead of finishing at hogwarts.”
“Do they like it now?” She asked cautiously, feeling a little better knowing that they too skipped out on their academic life.
“They have to, given how well we’ve done.” “It is hard to deny our success,” They chimed like songbirds, the passion they had for their self made business shining through their wide eyes.
It was no surprise that the three of them got on, but as the night progressed quicker than they thought, the new trio found themselves with no awkward silences. The clock above them looked as though it had been enchanted when George finally glanced up at it, amazed to see that they’d been chatting for four hours already.
Only when y/n yawned did the two twins decide it was maybe time to call it quits.
“It’s getting late,” Fred spoke up, not wanting to keep the girl from her much needed sleep. It must have been a long day for her. “I’ll grab you some blankets.”
As he disappeared up into his room to look for something to keep her cosy all night, the girl helped George clear away their mess from dinner.
“I feel awful,” She smiled politely, handing him more plates to place into the sink that was doing all the work for them.
“What for?” The man seemed genuinely surprised.
“We spent all that time talking, but we never decided on what to do with me.” She scoffed, feeling like a child needing their help. “I promise I won’t hang around much longer, I’ll sort something out.”
“Like what?” He didn’t mean to sound harsh, it was more to show her that they were her only option right then.
“I-I’m not sure… sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, we want to help you.”
The door to Fred’s bedroom opened again and they fell into silence, the girl slipping back into the mindset that she was growing into a burden for them. She couldn’t ask anymore of them, they’ve already done enough for her. Then and there, y/n decided she would leave in the morning.
“Bed’s ready!” The shout came from the living room, where blankets had been laid over the sofa beneath the window. “Thought you would enjoy the view here.” Fred added when she came out to see his masterpiece.
“That’s hardly a bed!” George scoffed, laughing at the copious amount of cushions he’d left for her head, all different colours and sizes.
“It’ll be perfect, thank you.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling under the city lights that spilled into the room. It didn’t even matter that they would reflect against the ceiling as she slept, it looked like stars.
“As long as you like it then,” George muttered, eyeing his brother who clung onto a smug grin.
“Goodnight y/n, sleep well.”
“Night y/n.” They both smiled, turning to head off to their respective rooms as she opened up her case to look for something to sleep in.
“Night Fred, night George… thank you again, for all of this.” They both nodded at her words and disappeared, leaving her to change in the dark loft, only a small lamp beside her lighting her way to the sofa.
She clicked it off, casting lumos and stumbling over the fluffy rug to curl beneath the many layers of covers that Fred had left her. The girl chuckled to herself, peeling one off and folding it in a neat pile on the floor. Two would be just fine for one night.
It didn’t take long for her to drift off to sleep, the whole day’s nonsense catching up on her and slipping her body into a mini-coma. Her mind ran and slowed all at once, memories of nights she would spend in her childhood bed, reading books for hours on end until she’d fall asleep with the pages sprawled open beside her.
Many nights she would hear her parents scream at one another, that harrowing wailing sound would echo for hours until both of them grew tired and they decided to sleep apart yet again. That’s when she knew she could relax, she could finally do all the things that she wouldn’t have time for in the day between her tutor’s classes and meaningless chores.
She had been a night owl, revelling in the time she got to be truly alone, when the house slept she would come alive. Now, she couldn’t stay awake even if she wanted to. She needed to sleep, and fast.
Y/n vaguely heard a door opening and closing, unsure whether it was real or her mind replaying memories all too vividly. Either way, her eyes were far too heavy to open themselves and check. It could wait.
-
Fred cursed himself for not catching his bedroom door behind him, the noise booming across the loft. He waited, frozen at the top of the steps, watching to see if the girl would rouse at the sound. But he was in luck, she didn’t move a muscle.
He padded down to the bottom, making sure each step was lighter than the last as he headed into the small corridor. George jolted awake the second his door was opened, reaching for his lamp to see who was intruding on his sleep.
“What the fuck!” He almost shouted.
“Shut up! She’s sleeping in there!” Fred hissed, walking over to the empty side of the bed and sitting down calmly.
“So was I you git- what the hell are you doing, since when did we start sleeping together?”
“Disgusting-”
“I didn’t mean that,” George rubbed his eyes with a grimace and reluctantly sat up, “What do you want then?” His voice finally hushed to match his brother’s.
“I have an idea,” Fred started.
“Yes,” “Well, I’ve been thinking about y/n-” “If this is you coming to tell me about another sex dream, I don’t wanna know, okay?”
“Will you just shut up and listen to me,”
“Fine, fine, go on.” He pulled the covers over his bare chest, feeling suddenly exposed to the cold night’s air.
“Well, we’ve been saying for ages that we need someone to work in the shop, except we can’t really afford it right now.” Fred explained, and George nodded along. “Look, y/n needs somewhere to stay, but she would never stay here without giving us some sort of payment, right?” The man’s head looked like it was on a spring as he took in the words. “So, why don’t we let y/n stay here with us and in return she can help out in the shop?”
“Do you think she’d agree to that?” “It was basically the same agreement she had with Neville and Hannah, except we have no reason to get rid of her.”
“I suppose so,” He didn't sound overly convinced.
“She needs somewhere to stay, we need someone to work, it’s a win-win situation!” Fred exclaimed, smiling like a mad man to try and convince his brother that their plan could work out.
“Okay, fine. We can ask her in the morning.”
“Great, I knew you’d say yes.” “Well it’s not like she’s the worst person to live with, it hardly took much to sway me.”
“Not the worst person? Come on George, she’s great!” Fred, admittedly, got a bit too excited at this. His voice ringing out louder than he’d wanted it to.
“You have had a sex dream haven’t you?” “Oh shut up!” “Was she in it,” George teased, prompting his brother to get up and head for the door. “So i’m taking that as a yes.” He turned the light off, hearing one last hiss from Fred before the door shut behind him.
“Aren’t you forgetting the time you had a sex dream about Mcgonnogall?” Fred quipped, leaving quickly as not to get a beating up from the other twin, who was mentalling cursing himself for ever revealing that fact when they were drunk one time.
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rangikuxmatsumoto · 3 years
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[ Misconception: Rangiku moves on fully after Gin and doesn't grieve him. ]
send me a misconception you think people have about my character and I’ll explain if it’s true or not. | Accepting
Hello! And thank you for coming to my TEDTalk today. The concept that Rangiku moves on and doesn’t grieve Gin’s death is 100% false – when in actuality Rangiku is grieving the loss of Gin well before his death. I am going to attempt explain with both canon and also my interpretations; the only problem with using canon is that unfortunately Rangiku suffers from what I trademarked last time at 2 AM in bed as ‘Surface-Level Storyline’, #RangikuDeservedBetter.
While I would classify Rangiku as second-tier main character, she isn’t deemed important enough to really get to see what makes her tick. We don’t see a lot beyond the surface-level, her character isn’t developed beyond that for one reason or another. And unfortunately, Rangiku plays the all-important factor of being Gin’s driving force, reason for redemption/pity, but that’s it. We see more how Rangiku matters to Gin, but we never really see the reverse because Bleach in Shonen and they’re only allowed what, 1 main love interest storyline, otherwise the world ends?
Anyways, back to the main topic.
From the start of the Soul Society Arc, Gin is introduced as a villain and upon reflection and rewatching, we actually don’t see Rangiku and Gin interact all that much. Again, this is one of the things that truly infuriates me about this ship because it created mainly in tension, flashbacks and one-sided narratives and only in Gin’s death do we get any sort of canonization that there is/was a relationship between the two; beyond just the concept of them growing up together. It’s only in the dramatic conclusion that we see Gin’s true intentions and his true feelings, where his heart truly lies and who it lies with.
Now, in those flashbacks and one-sided narratives we see it at first from Rangiku’s point of view. Whenever Rangiku dwells on Gin, questioning his motives or what he’s doing her tone* (in the anime), and her demeanor are often sad, confused. Other than their original flashback panel/scene for first time meeting/introduction, most of her thought process on Gin revolves around his notorious abandonment/disappearances from her life.
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Waking up to find footsteps leaving wandering away from their little shake, the view Rangiku has of Gin in more memories is that of his back. She’s constantly questioning his motives, his reasonings, wondering what he’s plan is for her, what he truly wants out of her. Her inner monologue during her fight with Kira is literally asks that exact question. Here was see that Rangiku doesn’t even know where she rests in Gin’s life. They had become Shinigamis because of his desire to make sure she doesn’t cry anymore, which should seem like a cementing force in their places in each other’s worlds. But Gin’s actions speak to the opposite of that. It’s as if his narrative goes from this protector of Rangiku, this desire to fulfil some sense or purpose to something entirely different once he comes in contact with Aizen, after he becomes a Shinigami.
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As the Soul Society Arc wraps up and we see the departure of Aizen&Co, the idea that Rangiku is already beginning to grieve the loss of Gin starts to take shape.
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She’s grieving the loss of the boy she once knew; she’s grieving the man she thought she knew. I also think she’s starting to grieve the loss of the future she thought they had. She states at one point “That’s what I hate most about you…” we can only assume that it is his disappearing act because that has been a reoccurring topic when it comes to Rangiku’s narratives revolving around Gin, but I also want to point out that it could be regarding to Rangiku not knowing Gin’s motives.
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It is only at the end of their character development arc that we find out the whole truth, but Rangiku never truly does – this notion that Gin keeps her at arm’s length to protect could be the something she hates. The walls that Gin has built around himself, the façade that he has crafted has kept everyone out, including Rangiku and she is starting to realize how she doesn’t know who Gin really is and why. But also, the fact that Gin leaves her with nothing – but questions.
The stages of Grief are:
1. Shock & Denial
2. Pain & Guilt
3. Anger & Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Upward Turn
6. Reconstruction & Working Through
7. Acceptance & Hope
Obviously, the manner in which grief manifests for each person is different and how long they move through the stages is unique to each individual. Because Rangiku suffers from Surface-Level Storyline Syndrome we don’t see any of these stages or mentions of these stages until depression, in the filler Reigei arc, and while that is not recognized as canon, I think it’s important to mention and will come back to this later.
It is my belief that Rangiku is already going through stage 1 and 2 during this period. The shock of Gin’s betrayal is the first manifestation of her grieving process and while Gin isn’t dead (yet), he’s gone, it’s a break-up, a loss of the person most important to her. She’s in pain, she feels betrayed. The weight of being one of Gin’s most important, longest connections brings in a sense of guilt – how did she not know, how did she not see, how come she couldn’t stop him.
These feelings have to be weighing on her for much of the Arrancar Arc and Fake Karakura Town Arc and it comes to a dramatic head at the Winter War.
You can simply see the ferocity in her gaze the whole interaction with Gin prior to his fight with Aizen. Compared to how she looked at him the last time she saw him as he left Soul Society verses how she looks at him upon their reunion.
At some point we’ve entered the stage of anger but at the same time we’re still in denial because Rangiku’s question to Gin, to which Gin turns back on her – is how could he do this to Kira?When in reality she was asking ‘How could you to do this to me?’
It’s also interesting to mention the lack of Gin’s smile during the entire interaction with Aizen. I would safely assume that Gin didn’t expect Rangiku to make some dramatic show of force, to show up in her state because she had to know she wasn’t strong enough to take on him, let alone Aizen. It’s almost like during those few precious moments, he’s trying to recalculate his plan, which is why he ferries her away and places her under kido. And why he continues that rouse to Aizen in claiming that he killed her.
Of course, this leads to Gin’s “I’m a snake” monologue – referencing back to TBTP. Small side note, it wasn’t until years of watching, reading and writing Bleach that you start to notice these little things; but Gin’s narrative has always been defined by the ‘I’m a snake’ statement when in actuality he’s always been depicted as a fox or kitsune which in Japanese folklore are considered “faithful guardians, friends, and lovers.” I could write a whole research paper on this, but anyways back to the good stuff.
It is during the Fake Karakura Town/Winter War that the transition happens in the GinRan ship. Up until this point it was always from Rangiku’s point of view but now we’re getting Gin’s. We have the narrative in our heads that Gin is this terrible person, he’s a villain, he’s working with Aizen, he’s betrayed the people he cares most about and then BOOM. He flips the script.
The true reveal takes place, we see Gin’s motives for everything – and that motive is Rangiku; what was done to her; what was stolen from her; Gin is seeking revenge. In order to do this, he’s kept the driving force, his whole reason at arm’s length to protect her. In the end, he fails.
And the grief process for Rangiku starts over.
After the conclusion on the Winter War are we sneak a peak at how Soul Society and the rest of the Shinigami are moving on. No one has come out of that war unscathed and that’s the whole point – the loss of those three captains was a ripple effect that didn’t just hit each individual’s division directly, but it radiated out to those around them. The personal impacts that each of these captains had on so many among their ranks. We’re given this insight by Rangiku, who sees those around her picking themselves up, dusting themselves off, realizing their shortcomings and working to grow stronger. They won’t be defined by that one battle, they won’t be defined by the loss of their mentor, they’re moving on.
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Rangiku claims that she too is moving on, and that Gin’s bad habit of leaving her with nothing is actually a sort of blessing, she has nothing to cling to, nothing to hold onto, nothing to keep her back from stepping out and moving forward…which is utter nonsense. While Gin may have left nothing physically for her to hold onto, he left her with everything emotionally, and mentally.
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Rangiku never learned the reason for Gin’s actions, no one besides Aizen truly knows what happened to her as a child, who she is and what she was. Gin kept that from Rangiku for all those years, he never had the chance to explain her role in his actions. So, what did Gin leave her with? Questions.
Gin also left her with all the memories she has recanted over all the arcs leading up to this, as if the image of him lying there dying isn’t seared into her brain. As if her birthday isn’t going pass and she isn’t going to think of him, of why that day is important.
We’re back to the stages of grief, she’s denying that she has anything to hold onto. She’s still in a state of shock, she’s mourning his loss. I have referenced before that in the filler arc after this there is a mentioning of a month having passed and Nanao mentions to Rangiku that it’s good to see her kind of coming back to her old self to which Rangiku sort of questions what she had been for the last month – in which Nanao responds in kind that she had been depressed.
Now this isn’t canon, but I think it ties in rather well, because unfortunately with Bleach being a shonen feelings are kind of just dropped like a hot potato. One moment they’re sad and then not anymore. We don’t see really any other character suffer besides that of Ichigo, but then we have this moment where someone else mentions that another character’s personality has been off for a month (shocker off-screen however).
Now comes my interpretations.
For the whole period of the Soul Society arc until the end of the Winter War you are seeing Rangiku going through a grief process as well as character development. She is learning during that whole time how to live without Gin.
In the beginning, it’s simply learning to live without him romantically perhaps. Since Aizen references that he always assumed Gin has “feelings” for Rangiku, I have personally headcanoned that they had a relationship that may have been one of those ‘worst-kept secrets’ in Soul Society. Everyone knew they were together, but it was meant to be hush-hush, however as things were beginning to heat up with Aizen’s plans, I have always pinpointed around the events of Isshin’s disappearance, Gin ended things – out of protection for Rangiku.
Gin’s betrayal cements this process, Rangiku needs to learn how to live without him in her life and without him in Soul Society. Their lives had been so interwoven for so long that pulling back would be a process, learning to live without him would be like learning breathing again. It wouldn’t be easy.
While she has proven to herself that she can live, thrive and survive without Gin in her life, the idea of death isn’t exactly what she had in mind. The idea that he’d still be there – without being there – is where her mindset is at until ultimately, she is forced to truly let him go for good. And so, she grieves, hard, for months, if not years – if not for the rest of her life.
One has to, right? To see the man, you loved die before you, not knowing why, not understanding his motives, never getting the answers to the questions you don’t even know you should ask, it must be torment.
They were in a sense soulmate, meant for one another – Gin devoted his life to literally a stranger. He had no idea who this girl was, but he saw a crime being committed, he knew it was wrong and swore vengeance on someone he didn’t know without even knowing the girl’s name first. And Gin was Rangiku’s whole world, when someone doesn’t start counting the days until they’ve met you, you’re important, you’re literally their everything. She is basing the passage of time off of when she met the boy who saved her life. To lose that person, it can’t be something you simply get over, in a month, or a year. You simply slowly start to come to terms, with the new reality and the new normal. That void never goes away, the hole in your heart is never going to be filled, not by drink, not by another person, not by things. It lingers and for a time it gets worse before it gets better.
Now, of course, I have to talk about the haircut. The start of The Thousand Year Blood War is 17 months later, so over a year and a half has passed, and I don’t think that is enough time for Rangiku to have healed or to be out of her grieving process/mourning period. I think it will be with her forever, but we enter a new stage in the grief process, the Upward Turn and Working Through.
It’s pretty cliché to do the whole “New Hair, New You” thing after a break-up, but I get why it’s done. It’s meant to show growth, it’s meant to show the passage of time, it’s meant to show the letting go of one’s former self. For the most part prior to the events of the main storyline of Bleach, Rangiku always had shorter hair. So, it’s kind of natural for her to go back to that to start over. I’m not against it, I think it’s a way to show that she had let go somewhat, moved on to a point she felt comfortable with.
The way I have written Rangiku is that after the events of the Winter War, there’s a pronounced shift in Rangiku. There’s a more complex level of emotions to her after Gin’s death – she’s able to eventually return to a resemblance of her old self but she’s never quite there. The majority of her soul was taken by Aizen, but that hurt far less than when he stole half her heart.
TLDR; Rangiku did grieve and continues to grieve for Gin after his death, but over time she processes his death, learning to accept her new reality and in some sense of the manner move on while still holding onto the memories (the good and the bad) that she had with the man she loved from the moment she saw him.
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lilyrachelcassidy · 3 years
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Moonlight
Draco x Reader One-Shot
Summary: This is based off the song ‘Moonlight’ by Ariana Grande. During the bad times of War, not everything has to be so black-and-white. Both Y/N and Draco know it just too well.
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: language 
tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy
Composing yourself had been more than a hard thing to ask for lately.
The Death Eater had finally taken Hogwarts under their control; famous Harry Potter, who was allegedly supposed to play a hero, disappeared in the depth of the unknown; the plan of escaping the school turned out to be an utter failure since the Dementors encircled and blocked every passage of absconding, escalating the disappointment over students.
Yet you hadn't thought of the plan B as an alternative solution, but you were sure, even if you managed to find one, it might take a few more months to figure things out. And you had to admit that increasing anxiety about your parents made you cry yourself to sleep at night. Despite your insistent pleads of the letters to contact you, you hadn't received any response or other sign of life ever since over two months of a constant worry.
And yet, it wasn't the worst part.
The Carrows, who unwarrantedly preferred to call themselves professors Carrows from now on, had decided to introduce their new methods of teaching everyone. And punishing for any triviality.
Once, for example, in Charms class -- which was the worst nightmare of a week -- you had been asked to stand up in front of the class and demonstrate a Crucio curse on the First Year who happened to accidentally bump into Alecto in the corridor. Obviously, you hadn't obeyed an imposed task to which Carrows only reacted with unrestrained rage. Instead of punishing the eleven-year-old boy, the lesson had turned out to be your disciplining session of torture for not being submissive enough. Although the feat had brought you more renown later on, which served to make Carrows more flustered, you still couldn't get out of the Hospital Wing for whole three days.
All of that also led your Occulumency to suffer, which was doubling the struggle. There was for sure no doubt it was an important skill to have, not only to create a mental barrier protecting yourself from uninvited intruders; but also preventing others' thoughts from leaking into your head. It was already enough of bearing the non-stopping suspense in the air. So, the idea of accumulating more emotions on your account would probably navigate to an outburst.  
One thing, however, surprised you. You had found out that people who outwardly seemed to have quite a reputation of cruel tossers were actually more decent and human than you could think. In particular, certain Draco Malfoy, who had been selected as a Head Boy in terms of this year.
Wandering around the school and doing the night patrols, he had happened to find you sitting hunched over, face buried in your knees, and sobbing brokenly at the fate the Wizarding World was faced to deal with. He had flumped next to you, without question, silently accompanying and comforting you in moments of solitude.
Two other times of your encounter had been in the library: spotting you among the crowd of students, he would come over and take a nearby place. You didn't know whether it was a matter of pride or disposition, but he had never spoken up, which you, in fact, didn't mind. At first, you had been a little bit dubious about his sudden influx of approachability. However, as to mute your suspicions down, you tried not pondering about it too much.
Funny, how the real nature of the boy who you had known for a nonchalant sneer and teasing remarks, could suddenly become so interesting and mysterious.
It was on a Thursday late that you were strolling up to The Astronomy Tower to see the Thestrals soaring in the air. Normally, it was around the time when you would be putting yourself to the bed, but too many thoughts were buzzing in your mind, and you knew it wouldn't give you much space to sleep anyways. The only optimum, instead of staring aimlessly at the ceiling and flipping from one to the other side of the mattress, was busying yourself with something else. The lack of sleep was due to nothing else than today's lesson with Carrows. They had thought up an idea of having some practice with a Confrigo spell which, rather unfortunately, was presented on a living phantom. As always, a whole hour of torments was disastrous, to say at least, and even after classes, you couldn't shake off the echo of troubled screams and beggings, which carried over the petrified room of students. That's why you were thinking you could swallow your emotions down, quietly and undisturbedly, in the only place you could wish for some private space. Besides, it was the only spot resembling the old Hogwarts you had known from the previous years, showing the calming extent of green grounds.
However to your surprise, when you pushed the door to The Astronomy Tower, noiselessly, you could notice a silhouette of a man already standing at the barrier, which made you momentarily flabbergasted suddenly considering an option of running upon a teacher. To save yourself from much too unwanted detention, you decided to change your track, rushing straight into your dormitory. But almost as you succeeded doing so, in the last moment, a person shifted in their place and spoke up before you had room to move.
"Pretty late for a casual stroll, huh?" At once, a feeling of dread ebbed away, and you exhaled deeply air you didn't know you were holding as you recognized none other than Draco with his back turned towards you. His tone was as usually taunting, but something in a timbre of sadness was hitched to it as well. "Shouldn't be sneaking out of the room on the patroling hours, you know? I'm the least of who you could come upon today."
Your dignity told you to say something in order to defend your harmless saunter to calm down your nerves, which benefited only your mental account. However, he made a point -- you could have been caught not only by some random teacher but Currows themselves who, you were inexorably aware, wouldn't let a chance of dehumanizing others slip away. And besides, you were a little too dumbstruck to speak, realizing it must be the first time Draco fucking prince Malfoy had uttered more than a word to you. What was a coincidence of meeting up with him just on the same day as you had been wondering about your atypical relationship formed within this school year?
Before your contemplation ended, Draco's voice carried on with a conversation, echoing off the walls. "Care to join? Seeing as you're already here."
Frowning to yourself at how surreal the situation can become, you stepped off the stairs with no more hesitation. You truly wouldn't have suspected the things would turn out that way -- embracing his Head Boy position, you thought he would send you off back to the Hufflepuff Tower with his dismissive attitude as it usually was. Inviting you over to company him was a top cherry you hadn't even considered. Truthfully, it made you feel a little thrilled to accept this offer.
As you walked over to him, his facial features became much sharper than from afar. Now, as you looked at him closely, you could define the contours of his face were even more angelic yet still masculine than in daily light. The platonic hair glinted accordingly to the moon above; his blue eyes were focused on a black void in the sky, clearly pondering more than concentrating on a particular object; a mouth pursed into a line, not a mocking expression he was usually carrying himself with. Eyeing him like that and still not being capable of deciphering him suggested he must be someone between a completely unemotional git or an excellent master of Occulumency. You preferred to presume the second one.
Quickly, realizing you were staring, you turned your head to behold a collection of vivid stars hovering above your head. You knew it was only in the Wizarding World that sky flickered so brightly -- your father was a muggle, and a whole family dwelled among a non-magical society, which you didn't mind at all. And that's why you were able to recognize... differences existing between those two worlds.
"Why are you here?" you asked curiously, not quite capable of restraining yourself from doing so. You were standing close enough to him to smell his sandalwood cologne.
He gave you a perfunctory smile, and although it was a three-second gesture, it somehow made you lighter on the chest to know he was convenient with a conversation. "Needed someplace to think," he explained, not darting his eyes away from where he was looking. He took a pause there. "You?"
"The same reason," you answered simply, shrugging. "My roommates can be too loud sometimes, and I needed some silence to sort out...stuff."
Draco nodded in understanding, not interfering any further into the topic. Brushing your hair habitually with fingers, you scolded yourself for coming up here in the first place. How could you act so irresponsibly to think you could smoothly break a regulations' rule and without anyone finding out? Although you were desperate to hide it, the presence of Draco made you inexplicably nervous, and even though you tried to gulp it down, your stomach was churning when he was around. Time proved his intentions weren't bad after all, and you confronted with the truth ever since he first happened to find you at the moment of your meltdown in the corridor, clutching to him as if he was your sanity. But that didn't dispel your doubts about him becoming a fully active Death Eater, who praised with a Dark Mark on the left forearm like with a reward for some kind of acrobatic stunt.
Your gaze swept briefly over the rolled-up sleeves of his snow-white shirt only to assure yourself the mark didn't disappear off his arm with some help of the power of your imagination. Yet it was still there -- as always, tinted coal-black, scary and blood-curdling every time you looked at it.
That evidently didn't escape Draco's notice who, as though reading your mind, started. "You know, I didn't want this." He didn't have to show what he meant by saying so because you instantly figured it out. You looked up at him, and almost invisibly, his skin pale as it already was, changed even to the whiter shade. "He has bait on me. All of this: assassinating Dumbledore; obeying his will -- it's not because I want that."
The sudden shock welled up at these words, and you gawked at him stupidly, not quite able to process what he had just told you. Swallowing with some difficulty, you coerced yourself to a mutter. "Why... why are you telling me this?"
For the first time this night, his steely stare landed at you, scanning your face to detect signs of emotion. You attempted to conceal it, but he could see you were thunderstruck by his unexpected confession. Without preamble, he smiled slightly at you. "I thought you ought to know."
Ignoring the clenching in your chest, you did your best to not break eye contact with Draco when his eyes were intently locked on yours now. You could swear, something on the verge of interest and sympathy flickered in them for a second. "Why?"
"Because you're the only person who doesn't freak out when I'm around," he explained carefully. "Every time I go to the library or appear in any other public place, you're the only one who doesn't glare."
He closed his eyes, clearly relived with the fact he could confide the worries he had been carrying for a long time. Breathing out through the nose and his lips flinching a little, his head spun again to the blank of the sky.
It was a depressing sight to see him in such dejection, and the images of him being cast aside by his former group of friends with who he had been laughing merely a year ago rolled into your head, try as might to suppress it. You could only imagine what it must feel like to be rejected by everyone around; to play the main role in something you never wished to participate in.
For a moment, you thought he was going to continue because he grunted enigmatically, but the silence remained. Unable to restrain the urge to offer physical comfort, you affectionately grabbed his palm, squeezing it in the reassurance that you were there for him. He didn't attempt to break himself out of the grip, which presumably was a good indication.
"I believe you," you stated, for some reason, satisfied with the fact you're the one to comfort him. "You are a good person, Draco."
This time, it was he who clasped your hand, and he glimpsed at you once more, towering over you with his long legs. "No. In the past, things happened, and to say, I'm not proud of them. Jeering, mocking, insulting -- that wasn't fa-."
"Past is a past, Draco," you cut him off, knowing where it all was leading, and you wanted to bring it to an abrupt end. It was the least adequate moment for apologies. "You can't fix it. Good that you understand your mistakes by now."
He hummed in comprehension, smiling, and his grasp tightened around your palm as if you were about to run off from him, which he couldn't be more wrong about. Admitting to yourself, you loved his smile -- though it was seldom, it much differed from a smirk you were accustomed to at that point -- and you secretly hoped he could do it more often. You also loved that even if he didn't talk much, he was very successful in lifting you up.
Therefore, there you were: standing arm-to-arm with your ex-bully who you had happened to run across; observing the moon in its full exposure; holding hands in reassurance. Both of you clearly enjoyed this gratifying moment and were lingering towards it not to end.
"Thank you," Draco finally choked out. "Thank you for...everything."
Ultimately, smashing the wall of uncertainty down, he wrapped his arms around your neck, hunching a little to adjust to your height, and buried his face in the crook of your neck. At first, your body stiffened at the sudden touch and a skip of the boundary, but as not to agitate him, you adapted yourself soon enough by reciprocating the hug. You started to rub the slow, steady circles on his back, and little by little, he began stroking your hair, softly grazing your scalp.
How long you stood clinging to each other like this, you didn't know. Hearing Draco sigh quietly, feel the rise and fall of it against your hands. Your heart sunk when you heard him breathe out, and you prepared yourself for him to mix out of the embrace because of sudden consciousness he was cuddling with a half-blood Hufflepuff he had been mocking for half of a decade ('I should get going'; 'I didn't mean what I said earlier; 'leave me be, Y/S'). But none of this happened, and he was only murmuring into your ear.
"I presume I should escort you to the dormitory. I could tell you were the whole time with me so no one would get any suspicion if we run into...anyone," he offered, yet you felt him almost grimacing at the thought of ending a moment you were two having.
"Mhm..." you agreed with no more opposition. "But let's give it one more minute."
____________
A/N: This is so typical of me to do something other than what's necessary lmao ;) The second chapter of Summer Nights is almost up if anyone interested. As I think of it now, this one-shot gives me such a vibe of Loud Places/Turn. However, I hope you enjoyed it :) Oh, and I'm explaining the sudden change of schedule with posting: 1. I'm very irresposible; 2. I got the super inspo to scribble this one-shot. Hah, sorry...
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littlefreya · 4 years
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The Captain and the Maiden
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Summary: Plain and simple, the Captain is your first.
Pairing: Captain Syverson x Reader
Word count: 2.7K
Warnings: Deflowering, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, cunnilingus. 
A/N: By request from Anon! Thank you @agniavateira for being my beta and muse :3
Title: The Captain and the Maiden
There you are, decorated in white lace, your heart pumping with agitation while the captain stands in front of you, his broad, hairy chest pumping air slowly. He tilts his head like a big, ragged dog. 
“You’re a wha....”
“Virgin.” you answer, rolling your eyes nervously and a little bit vexed. You shouldn’t have said anything, you can already see the rushed exchange of thoughts behind his soulful blue eyes. 
The bulky man is certainly planning his escape, too afraid to take away your “chastity”.
But the right corner of his lips eventually twists into what begins to look like a small smirk, his eyes hungrily observing your body while he flicks his tongue. 
“How in the hell does someone like you remain a virgin for so long?”
You shrug, your mind quickly running through a list of failed conquests and the numerous times your heart got broken. “Didn’t find the right guy? Didn’t have time between college and maintaining a job to pay out my student loans? You pick.”
You sigh, ready to feel disappointment when your devoted soldier moves toward you and within seconds the air becomes shallow. His eyes glint darkly and you glimpse at his nether region, noticing the outlines of his engorged organ as it begs to for you.
“This makes me Mr. Right Guy?” he inquires with his pure Texan accent that melts your insides. Taking another step forward, he stands so close that the cups of your bra brush against his hard, naked torso with every breath you take. He leans his head down, forehead bumping against yours while he breathes in your scent.
“It makes you…”
The rest of your sentence is swallowed by his mouth as he pulls you up and conquers you with a succulent kiss. You’re not given a chance to resist, to fight back. The captain overpowers you, his tongue setting fire through your mouth and lungs, dancing with yours in a fight for dominance in which he wins with ease. 
Large hands seize your waist, lifting you with ease and placing you on the queen-sized bed. He crawls on top of you with menace. Sy is all muscle and fury, smothering you with his weight. His flesh is hot against yours and you’re almost embarrassed by your aching instinct to cling to this burly beast. His hands grope your body with zeal, and the only thing that runs through your mind is the same pathetic little prayer that you chant with wanton.
“I ain’t no tender man, babygirl.” he warns you as he breaks from your lips, his rough beard burning your skin as he trails down your jawline and then your throat. “But what I am is a southern gentleman and I promise I’ll treat ya right.” 
As if possessed, your spine curls and lifts from the mattress to the lingering kisses Syverson trails down your naked skin. He licks at your sternum, his coarse hands skillfully unclasping your bra and discards it before his tongue snakes around your peaked nipple and teases the soft flesh. You want to tell him you don’t need any preparation, that you’ve been waiting for this moment for way too long and you just want him to fuck you already.
But no words manage to form on your lips as Sy’s fingers thread through your nipples and he continues to explore the uncharted path of your body attentively.
“Has anyone done this to you before?” he murmurs against your lower belly between a chant of wet kisses, rubbing his bearded chin at your sensitive flesh and sneaking his fingers beneath the bend of your expensive lace underwear.
“Onc...once. when I was in college,” you stammer, hissing through your teeth. Your body shakes as he kisses your belly with a hum and slips your panties over your sheer thigh-high stockings.
“I appreciate this, by the way.” he exclaims, referring to the sexy lingerie you bothered to wrap yourself in for tonight: a Victoria’s Secret best white lace, almost ceremonial. It lasted less than 5 minutes before both your bra and underwear ended up on the floor next to Sy’s worn black shirt.  
Heat spreads through your body, spilling from your cheeks to your neck and gathering at your loins as Syverson spreads your legs with as much gentleness a brute like him can muster. You watch as he hooks your legs above his shoulders with intent, your thighs still covered in sheer white silk, countering the tanned muscles of his shoulders. 
You suck in your lower lip as you watch his head lowering between your apex. The fact that your thighs jitter around his neck is not lost to you. Flushed and ashamed of how intense your yearnings are, you throw your head back and shut your eyes while his hot breath welcomes your womanhood.
“Oh god!” 
His wet tongue snakes between your folds, smearing you with languid tease, enough to run through the length of your folds and make you whine like a whore. Your fingers twist around the bedsheet, your toes curling in the air as your ankles hover over his back.
“Christ, babygirl, I haven’t even started yet.” he taunts you and dips his tongue into your sweetness again, traveling between your folds carefully, tracing the shape of your labia and dampening it with his saliva. His thick beard adds roughness to the mixture, scratching your inner thighs as he moves his face between your open legs, learning the mysteries of your body.
Skillful lips press gentle loving kisses to the freshness of your mound, circling the entire region patiently, your whimpering pleas encouraging him to dwell around your juices and collect every rich drop. You’re swollen and throbbing, moaning with frustration at Syverson’s torturous measures. 
You can’t see his face, yet you’re convinced he is smiling smugly just as you know the sky above is blue.  
His fingers hold your lips open and you gasp as he licks your seal carefully, attempting to dip his tongue in the small gap as much as possible before he laps his tongue over the hidden pearl of your mound. He twirls around your clit with a low hum of delight that vibrates against you, making you shudder with a hiss. You are teetering on the edge, throwing your head back and forth on the pillow as he suckles, lavishing you inside the cavern of his mouth. The pleasure is so much that you are edged on begging him to stop yet the only thing coming from your mouth are deep, loud cries. 
Syverson has every intent on turning you into a mewling puddle, restraining your inner thighs while you squirm and continues to suck your clit skillfully until your body arches and explodes into rapture in his mouth.
“Fuck!!!” you pant, landing your back on the mattress heavily. “I get it now.”
Sy chuckles dryly, wiping your juices off his beard “Get what?”
“Captain… “ you adjust your breath “Captain Cunnilingus, I finally get why they call you that.”
His laughter thunders through his chest as he moves to lie on top of you once again, his hands reaching down to unzip his cargos and he pushes them down his legs to join the messy pile on the floor.
The last thing that surprises you is that Syverson likes to go commando.
“I think I got you wet enough, babygirl.” he growls, kissing and nipping your neck, his hands squeezing your buttocks, and his erection pressing hard against your soft belly. You shiver just from the size of it, your cunt throbs once again with both fear and excitement.
His knuckles sooth your temple, his eyes meeting yours with an ocean of compassion that only you are able to witness. 
“Ready?” he queries, searching for approval in your gaze.
You nod right away. You’ve been ready since the moment “big Sy” defended your honor at the bar against that jerk who squeezed your ass. No one ever fought for you, not till that day. You were just a small town girl with a sad list of terrible life choices and failed dates yet there he was. Handsome, big, and way beyond average, willing to risk a fight for you. 
You were tempted to just lose your virginity to him in the pub’s toilet. But he settled for your number instead.  
Holding you carefully in his strong bulging arms, Syverson flips you over so he is seated with you straddling his lap. You feel sinful, your wetness drenched upon the meat of his groin, you can’t help but stare at his velvet pistol which rests proudly against the side of your thigh. 
While inexperienced, you have seen your share online, and it would be an understatement to say Syverson is large.
“Easy darlin.’” he teases you with slight humor in his baritone and reaches to grab his thick erection in one hand while the other takes hold of your hip to assist you on top of him. Your fingernails mark crescents on his shoulder with just the tip of his flesh pressing at your gates. As desperate as you are, you feel a needle in your heart and your skin prickles as he begins to lower you onto his cock.
“F-u-c-k!” you hiss as you feel him splitting through you inch by inch. He pushes through your virginal canal, unwrapping your silken walls with his incredible girth. The pressure inside your own body overwhelms you, the sting of his entry making you dig your nails onto the hard muscles of his shoulder blades. A deep growl matches your sobs as he lingers, easing into a slit which is impossibly taut. 
But you’re are unwilling to be that girl anymore, the sweet small town virgin too afraid to ever make a move, pathetically waiting for “the one”. Whether it is Sy or not, you force yourself down his shaft, gasping along with him as the two of you fall into daze, amazed by the tight friction your bodies produce. His entire cock fills you, and you nearly break apart feeling him deep in the pit of your gut.
A low grunt emits from his lips. His hand soothes down your spine as you still, adjusting to the new sensation of being whole. You haven’t even noticed that your eyes went shut until Sy’s fingers stroke your cheek and wipe the wetness that formed in the corners of your eyes. 
Blinking your gaze at him, you find a calm sea, reaching into the depth of your heart.
“Good girl,” he utters, stroking your hair back and leaning to kiss your forehead. As patient as Syverson is, you can feel his thick cock as it twitches inside you. You are too hot, too tight, and your lush walls are closing around him. The  throbbing is unbearable for the both of you, increasing the more you prolong. 
Your breath comes in fumes and loud yips as you begin to ride the large man. You pull yourself up along the length of his solid erection, his ridges stroking down your stretching walls before you fall back on his cock, fulfilling the sudden emptiness that’s devoid of your pull.   
As dominant as he is, Syverson allows you to control the rhythm to a point. His control is a thin thread, threatening to snap. His large hands tattoo bruises onto your flesh as he grips you tightly and his teeth nip your breasts as you throw your head back with every plunge made into your body. You had your fears; that it will hurt too much, that you won’t climax with him inside you, having never experienced anything like this before. Yet every thought washes away from your mind as you rise and fall onto him and pleasure ripples through your organs as you grind into one another.
Seeing your movements become more fluid, Sy begins to buck his hips into you, pushing back into your cunt, reaching that spot so deep inside it makes you yelp like a crazed animal. He makes your entire body electrified, the bone of his pelvis grinding at your clit and his hands reach to squeeze your ass, parting your cheeks to make you even more stretched for him.
You are almost unable to rationalize how and when the captain took over, pushing you down on his meaty shaft. You realize that you enjoy this, having him take over, grunting against your throat while forcing you down his cock. It’s as if he turned into a beast whose only purpose was to seek and fill your womb. 
“Harder!” you hear a yell and before you even realize it was you who gave the command, you are whirled back onto the mattress with Sy on top, thrusting into you with the dedication of an ardent soldier. He kisses you sloppily, holding his elbows at the side of your head so not to crush you with his weight while he thrusts into you with lewd grunts.  
Tides of ecstasy begin to hit your core, washing closer and closer to the shores of your pleasure. You reach your hands to grab his ass, nails biting into his muscles, forcing him so deep it hurts. That pain is all you need to sink into your own waves of pure orgasm. You come as you never did before, wrapping tightly around him, achieving a sense of becoming whole in every inch of your soul.
Sy growls into your ear, and an onslaught of curses greets your flushed ears as he jackhammers your convulsing cunt so vigorously the bones of your hips feel as if they’re going to fall apart. Unable to fight your body’s protests, his own orgasm takes him within a split second, his seed sprouting into your womb while he pants hoarsely on top of you. 
Sweaty and breathless, he teases your lips into a loving kiss while remaining sheathed inside you. A gentle hum tickles down your throat, the heat of his elixir soothes you while his weight presses you down. Even though he is making it harder for you to breathe, you are anxious of his departure from your body. You lay your head against his peck, your hands clutching his back gently.
“Oh babygirl,” he cradles the back of your head, pressing a tender kiss to your hair. “Did I hurt you?”
You smile against his chest, feeling a bit more wicked than you ever did before. 
“Not in a bad way.”
___________________________________________________
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theclockworkmonk · 3 years
Text
Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 2
Read on AO3
Read on FanFiction.net
Chapter 1 on Tumblr
Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.
************
"They can't be serious…." Harry muttered in disbelief as he stared down at the very official-looking letter.
"Who's serious about what?" asked Ginny, stepping into their living room.
Harry jumped and quickly tried to hide the letter behind his back. "Nothing!" he squeaked.
He should have known better. Ginny got a mischievous glint in her eye and darted around him, trying to get at the letter. They spent a minute chasing around each other, but eventually Ginny faked him out into tripping over the coffee table, and she quickly snatched the letter out of his hand with a triumphant laugh, making Harry once again wonder if she wouldn't be even better at Seeker.
"Ooooo," Ginny sang dramatically as she saw the emblem at the top of the parchment, "an official statement from the Wizengamot! Have they come up with a new award to bestow on you?"
"No, it's even worse," mumbled Harry.
"Oh, well now I'm very interested," Ginny teased, "am I worthy to take a peek at such official correspondence between such important people?"
"Well, it actually concerns you too, Missy," said Harry, crossing his arms, "so go ahead."
"Hold on, let's see if I can get the right tone." Ginny cleared her throat, pointed her nose in the air, and continued in her haughtiest tone,
"To the esteemed Harry James Potter,
After consideration of your actions to serve and protect the Wizarding World of Great Britain, as well as the recent discovery of your lineage to the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, previously thought to be lost, it is with great honor and pleasure that we offer to restore your line to its former status by bestowing upon you one of the vacant Lordships!?"
Ginny dropped her character and her mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Along with the accompanying seat on the Wizengamot!" she finished quickly.
She looked up at him with wide eyes, and her face split into a wicked grin and Harry knew he would never hear the end of this.
Harry snatched the parchment back.
"Yeah, so in other words," he began before she could start getting her jokes in, "they're embarrassed by how many of their seats are still empty after half their members were thrown in prison or fled the country for being Death Eater collaborators, so they're once again trying to use me as their poster boy so they can look like they've turned over a new leaf. Except they clearly haven't, since they only deemed me 'worthy' after they found out which dead pure-bloods I'm descended from, so they're still the same navel-gazing, inbred aristocrats they've always been!"
By the time he was finished, he was shouting and he panted to catch his breath.
Ginny, however, still found the whole thing hilarious.
"Oh, it breaks my heart to see Lord Potter so displeased," she bowed low to him with a flourish of her hand. "Let me know if there's anything a lowly peasant like me can do to serve you."
"Yeah, yuck it up, Weasley," said Harry dryly, "Like I said, this affects you too."
She looked back up at him with a sardonic look. "How does your having to sit through long parliamentary bullshit have to do with me?"
"Well," said Harry, stepping toward her, "if I'm a Lord, that means that, if I ever get married one day—"
"Hypothetically speaking," said Ginny.
"Yes, then that hypothetical girl — whoever she might be — would become a Lady."
"Hmmm," hummed Ginny thoughtfully. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he snaked his arms around her waist. "So you think this is relevant to me because you're hoping to make me your Lady? That's mighty presumptive of you, Lord Potter."
"Well, I wouldn't say hoping," lied Harry. "It's just a logical possibility to consider, strictly because you're pure-blood, of course. But I'm still keeping my options open. After all, you know how much of a ladies man I am."
"Yes, of course. But you know…" said Ginny thoughtfully, tracing circles over Harry's chest with her finger, "'Lady Ginevra Potter….does have kind of a nice ring to it."
"Oh, but things would be expected of you, m'Lady," said Harry, "and you would definitely have to stop all that Quidditch nonsense. Such a vulgar and violent activity is beneath a woman of your standing."
"Oh, well, I guess that's settled, we have to break up," Ginny sighed, "We're just a part of two different worlds."
"I'll always remember you," said Harry romantically, "but alas, I must kiss you goodbye."
He bent down and gave her a kiss, then they broke apart as they cracked up into laughter.
"Come on, I'm not going to let anyone call me a Lord," said Harry, rolling his eyes, "and obviously I'm not actually going to sit on the bloody Wizengamot. Those seats are transferable, so I can give it to someone who will actually know what they're doing. My first instinct is your dad, but he probably won't want it either, and they'll do anything to get him off again. Andromeda would probably feel at home there, but could do some good. Or maybe McGonagall."
Ginny groaned. "You can be so boring sometimes, you know that? You have a chance to put Luna in a position of power, that would drive them insane! Oh, or how about Aberforth, that would be hilarious!"
Harry laughed. "We're not all agents of chaos like you, Gin. I swear, sometimes I think you're Eris in disguise."
"Oh, you think I'm a goddess?" Ginny flirted, "then I guess you better worship me."
"Hmmm," Harry kissed her again, but then sighed and pulled back. "Sadly, there's no time for that, we're already running late for dinner at the Burrow."
"Alright, should we go together or do you want to keep up the pretense that we're actually living in different flats?" she asked him pointedly.
He gave a weak, embarrassed smile. "I know it's ridiculous, and I might be a coward, I've just managed to escape your mother's disapproving stare so far in my life, I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible."
Ginny rolled her eyes but led him by the hand out the door of their flat, past the wards they had put up. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, and turned on the spot, feeling the squeeze of Disapparition.
*********************
"Come on!" urged Ron, "I'm hungry!"
"What else is new?" laughed Hermione, as she finished a letter she needed to send and tied it to Pig. After she sent the little owl on his way, she turned around to see her fiance standing by the fireplace, bouncing on his feet like a child on Christmas morning.
"Honestly Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head, "one would think you haven't eaten in a week, and there's no way that your mother even has dinner ready yet."
"Yes, but her pre-dinner scones should be coming out of the oven right now!" said Ron cleverly, "And I might as well have not eaten in a week, don't pretend like I'm the only one who's sick of our sad attempts at cooking."
"Alright, alright!" said Hermione. She joined him by the fireplace, threw some floo powder into the grate, and together they stepped into the green flames.
"THE BURROW!" Ron shouted clearly, and after the spinning sensation and flashes of various fireplaces, they stumbled into the sitting room of Ron's childhood home.
Ron's excited smile faltered when they saw the sitting room completely empty, with no one there to greet them. He recognized the overlapping voices of his family instead coming from the kitchen, and with a rush of horror he feared that his precious scones were already being eaten by an army of Weasleys. He led Hermione by the hand across the room towards the kitchen, and he started to make out individual voices.
"I just don't understand why they haven't told us!" said his mother.
"He probably knows what we're likely to do to him," grumbled Charlie.
"You've been away too long, brother mine," chuckled George, "I guarantee you she's the one keeping it under wraps."
"In any case, we know that pushing the issue will do nothing but make things worse," said Ron's dad gently, "We just have to—"
"Scones ready?" asked Ron loudly as he and Hermione entered the kitchen, and Hermione had to resist the urge to swat him. The conversation he had interrupted seemed interesting, and her suspicions were confirmed (and her curiosity inflamed) when all talk instantly ceased the moment they walked into the room. Six heads snapped towards the arriving couple as Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George widened their eyes in surprise and fear, like they were caught discussing something covert. Hermione also noticed how a few of them (mainly Ron's two oldest brothers) then narrowed their eyes venomously at her and her boyfriend.
While the kitchen of the Burrow was usually one of the warmest, most welcoming rooms in the world to Hermione, she noticed a distinctly cool, tense atmosphere this time. She looked sideways and saw that even Ron had clearly noticed, his eager smile slipping from his face.
There were several seconds of silence as the older family members' eyes all flittered between each other, holding a silent conversation that Ron and Hermione didn't know how to join. Then the loud ding of the kitchen timer made them all jerk suddenly.
"Wow, do I have great timing or what?" said Ron proudly, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, but some of his laughter died in his throat. His stomach didn't let him dwell on it, however, as Molly bent down to take the scones out of the oven, and the sweet, fresh smell filled the kitchen.
After she put the plate of scones on the table, Ron casually flicked a cooling charm over them before grabbing one greedily. The other Weasley men took their own, but they looked more like it was just something to do with their hands. While Ron hummed as he took a big bite, they chewed theirs thoughtfully.
"I should check on the washing," said Molly quietly, without looking at anyone. She grabbed a laundry basket and headed outside towards the clothesline.
"I'll help!" said Hermione cheerfully. She was always happy to help with the chores at the Burrow, but she also wanted to get one of the Weasleys alone to figure out what they had been talking about.
Molly didn't answer and continued outside with Hermione behind her.
"How have you and Arthur been?" asked Hermione pleasantly.
"Well, my days are still dreary, with no children left in the house," Molly sighed. "I knew that children don't stay children forever, but I certainly wasn't expecting my younger ones to hit so many milestones so quickly….and in the wrong order." She finished more quietly
Hermione frowned. Did Molly think she and Ron were getting married too soon? She had never expressed that before, she was overjoyed when they had announced their engagement.
"Er….well, Ron recently got promoted from Junior Auror," said Hermione uncertainly as she began helping Molly take garments off the clothesline and put them in the basket. "He'll be taking more serious cases now." So his career is well on track, if that's what you're worried about.
"I'm touched that you and Ron are willing to indulge that to me!" said Molly sharply
Hermione pursed her lips. Her patience was running out.
She stepped towards her soon-to-be mother-in-law and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Molly…"
For the first time, Molly turned to look at Hermione and the younger woman flinched back at the cold distrust and disapproval she saw in her eyes. Hermione felt a rush of deja vu, and after a short moment she realized where she had seen that look before: it was the same look she had received from Molly her fourth year, when the older witch had believed Rita Skeeter and was under the impression that Hermione was Harry's manipulative girlfriend, breaking his heart by messing around with Viktor.
"Mrs. Weasley...have I done something wrong?" asked Hermione weakly.
Seeing the hurt on Hermione's face, Molly's own harsh expression softened and was replaced with a wave of guilt. Her eyes got watery and her lip trembled, and before Hermione could say anything else she suddenly found herself being hugged tightly.
"No dear, you haven't done anything wrong," said Molly in a choked voice, as Hermione awkwardly patted her back, thoroughly confused. "I'm just being silly. I understand you're not choosing sides, you're just being a good friend."
Molly pulled back, and was smiling weakly at Hermione.
"Er...thank you," said Hermione, more bewildered than ever. "I don't mean to be rude, Molly, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh no, of course not," Molly winked dramatically, "There's nothing to tell, I'll drop it. Come on, dinner is just about ready."
Before Hermione could insist more strongly that Molly explain what the hell was going on, Molly picked up the now-full laundry basket and returned to the house, leaving Hermione blinking dumbly behind her.
******************************
As Hermione followed his mother outside, Ron continued to chew into the warm, buttery scone, barely looking at his surrounding family members, the earlier tension all but forgotten to him.
"So….little Ronnie doesn't come around for dinner as much as he used to," Bill pointed out.
"He and Harry have been burning the candle at both ends at the Ministry," said Percy.
"Hmm-hmm," Ron nodded, engrossed in his scone, not looking up to see the stern looks on his brothers' faces. "More than we need to be, honestly. But because of Harry's saving-people-thing, he's always sure that the next case will end in disaster if the dark wizard isn't caught right now, and of course he would be lost without me, so whenever he's working overtime I am too." He shrugged.
"Oh yes, I think we're all well aware how loyal you are to Harry," Charlie said darkly, "Even over other, older loyalties, as a matter of fact."
"Charlie…." began their dad warningly.
Ron looked back up, and grew uncomfortable again when he saw that all of his family members were looking directly at him. Earlier, he had assumed that the awkward tension in the room was because he and Hermione had interrupted an important conversation, but it seemed to go beyond that, like they were pissed directly at him for something he had done.
"What's going—"
He was interrupted by his mother re-entering the house, holding the laundry with one hand and wiping tears from her eyes with the other. Hermione followed in shortly behind her, and Ron looked pointedly at his mother and gave his fiance a quizzical look, but Hermione just returned a confused, helpless shrug.
"The roast should be almost done now," said Molly happily, and waved her want to send a flurry of plates and cutlery flying to settle in front of where each of the Weasley men were sitting.
"And I'm such a terrible mother, I neglected something," chuckled Molly, and bent down to kiss the crown of Ron's head. "We all missed you, dear."
"Mum…" Ron grumbled awkwardly, but he saw his brothers look at each other with slightly guilty expressions, and as they followed their mother's lead, the atmosphere of the room became friendlier.
Charlie drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I need a drink."
"Excellent idea!" pipped George. He waved his wand and summoned a large bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet along with several glasses, which zoomed right past Molly's face, causing her to jump and shriek.
"For the last time, only the cook can summon in the kitchen!" Molly scolded him, "I won't have this room devolve in complete chaos of flying objects until someone gets a concussion!"
"And I know you don't always act like it, but you are all of age," said Arthur, raising his eyebrows at George pouring several glasses of whiskey, "so I see no reason why you can't bring your own drinking supplies instead of raiding mine."
Molly huffed. "Well maybe it will be best if we stopped keeping that poison in the house—"
She stopped abruptly as they heard a faint pop from outside, coming from down the pathway, and Ron knew that Harry and Ginny must have arrived. Instead of beaming and rushing out into the garden to greet her two favorite children, however, Ron saw his mother gasp and a bit of the color drain from her face. His family members all looked at each other with that same expression he first saw when he came into the room.
Charlie gave a low growl and picked up a glass. "Yup. Definitely need a drink."
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supercorpkid · 3 years
Text
You’re running on fear and Kryptonite.
Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader
Word count: 1696.
Supergirl has a lot of enemies, but Superkid doesn’t have any and that’s basically because no one knows who she is. Or, so you thought.
You left school at the usual time, but before going home, you decided to go to the donuts shop. There’s one close to your school that is also close to CatCo, so you thought you would buy a few more, and stop at your momma’s work to share with her.
You’re walking down the street when you hear a gunshot. You look around and you can’t see anyone with a gun, and you also don’t see anyone hurt. You’re about to take off your glasses to check into the buildings when you hear another one.
But you can’t take off your glasses, because next thing you know you’re falling on the street. You feel something burning inside of you, and your hand goes to the place where this feeling is coming from. You raise your hand and see blood. Shit. That’s not possible.
When you realize what’s going on, you are already crawling to an alley nearby, so that no one can see you. And you’re almost sure it worked.
So, you try to think. You got shot. You can’t get shot. You’re bulletproof. But you are now bleeding from your stomach and there is an agonizing pain filling your body. It’s like the bullet got in your bloodstream, but it’s not possible. It’s not possible! Think!
What do you do now? Who do you call? Where do you go? Why is it burning so much? Is this what being shot usually feels like?
You finally look at your wound, it’s green. Fuck. It’s kryptonite. That makes sense. You’re not usually this dumb, but you just got shot with kryptonite bullet, and this is basically the first time you’ve been exposed to it.
It hurts. Actually, it burns. It’s like venom cursing through your body and, oh dear Rao, you need to do something before whoever shot you, come. They’re not just going to shoot you. It’s kryptonite, they know it makes you weak, so they must want something else.
You take off your glasses and look around. You don’t see right, your vision is blurry and you don’t know if it’s only because you’re crying, or also because kryptonite makes that to you.
You’re about to press the emergency button on the watch, when you stop yourself. You can’t. They have kryptonite. If Supergirl comes, they’ll have both you and your momma. And is this a real emergency? You have to figure this out on your own. You can’t call Supergirl, but you want your momma. You want Kara to hold you and tell you that you’re going to be fine.
You don’t have time to dwell on this thought, because you can see a guy coming at your direction. He is still on the other side of the street, but you know he’s probably not alone. And even if he is, you don’t think you can fight your way out of this.
You feel dizzy, and weak. There’s an excruciating pain going up your body, slowly taking over you. You can feel the kryptonite taking the best of you, but you’re half human, and that half human part is going to do whatever it takes for you to survive.
You take your phone from your pocket. You can’t call Kara. You also can’t call Lena. She would only get desperate and she wouldn’t be able to help. You can only call your aunt. Alex picks up in the first ring.
“Hey kid, listen, I can’t ta-”
“DO NOT call Supergirl! They have kryptonite.” Is the first thing you say. “I just got shot, I need help.”
“Ok.” She then screams at someone to call J’onn. “Listen, you have to stand still and apply pressure. I’m sending help.”
“They’re coming. I can’t stand still. It also hurts like a bitch so I’m definitely not applying pressure.” It’s so painful, but you stand up and walk further into the alley. “Can you track me?”
“Yes. J’onn is on his way, but don’t hang up, I need you on the line.” You can hear Alex yelling directions at everyone. She goes back to the phone. “Where’s the wound?”
“Stomach.” You breathe the answer. You feel sweat coming from your forehead. This is horrible. Rao, you want your mommy. You want you mommy so bad you don’t care who knows it.
“Did you see who did it?” She keeps asking questions and you know it is not because she needs you on the line, but because she needs to know you’re still alive.
“No. Sniper at a building. My x-ray vision is blurry.” You try to breathe, it gets harder. You bend your body and the pain gets worse. Shit. You’re panting now. And your whole body feels like a bomb. You collapse on the floor. “Shit, shit. Don’t tell Lena.”
“Kid!” Alex yells. “Kid are you still with me? Please, keep talking. Oh my God.” Alex keeps yelling on the phone. You can hear her, you want to answer, but your voice doesn’t come out anymore.
There is a man coming your way and you’re just lying there waiting for whatever comes next. He’s probably going to kill you. Is this a ‘press the emergency button’ moment? Before you decide, you see J’onn flying in front of your body. It’s all a blur after that. You are trying your hardest to stay awake, but the images keep blurring in your head and you only have snippets of what’s happening. J’onn is flying with you. Alex’s face. You’re rolling into the DEO on a stretcher. Brainy is in the surgery room with Alex.
“You did great, kid.” She puts a mask on your face and you know you’re about to sleep, so before you do it, you remove the mask and whisper:
“Please, they can’t...” And you’re out.
When you wake up, there’s this strange feeling. You feel like shit. You’ve never felt like this before, that’s for sure. The place where the bullet went in is still burning, but in a different way. It doesn’t burn open in agony, in burns because it’s closing. It also burns because there’s a yellow sun lamp above you.
You look around you. Only Brainy is there, but he didn’t notice you yet. Your moms aren’t here. Did your aunt really didn’t tell them?
You’re somewhat relieved. You know that if they knew it would cause them so much worry. But at the same time, you’re sad. You wanted them to be there. You wanted Lena to hold you. You needed to see Kara’ smile when looking at you. You needed their comfort.
“Oh. The Superkid is awake.” Brainy finally notices you and comes closer. “How do you feel?”
“Like I just got shot.”
“Great, because you did!” He thinks about it for a second. “Not that is great, but… Well, I’m pleased to inform you that J’onn J’onzz captured the sniper, who is currently being interrogated by Director Danvers.”
“Good.”
“And also, that your moms just arrived.” With that Brainy leaves and the two of them walk in. Lena is fully sobbing and staring at you like you’re not awake and alive at the moment. Kara looks very confused.
“Hey.” You try.
“My baby!” Lena holds your hand, and with the other she cups your face. You smile shyly. She keeps crying while caressing your cheeks.
“Mom, I’m fine.”
“You are NOT fine. This…” She points at you. “Is not what fine means. I-I can’t.”
Lena closes her eyes and Kara comes from behind her to hug her in comfort. With her free hand, she puts on top of your now slightly smaller wound.
“You didn’t call me.” Kara says and you can feel the pain in her voice. It hurts you too.
“They had kryptonite, momma. They would have hurt you too.” You are not justifying. You did the right thing and you know it, but she doesn’t look happy with your choice.
“I’m supposed to protect you.” Her hand feels hot on your wounded skin, but it’s somehow comforting.
“I’m ok.” You look at them and their hurt expressions and your heart shrinks. You’ve never felt so human before. You get hurt, and the people that love you get scared and hurt like you. This is what being human feels like. “Hey. A couple more hours in the yellow sun and I’m as good as new.”
“Try a couple more days.” Alex says and your moms turn their faces to look at her walking in the room. “Your daughter is very lucky she is half human. The kryptonite took a while longer to hit, so she’s completely fine now that I removed the bullet. But, well, her half human part also delays the recovery.”
“What do we do now?” Kara asks. You want to tell her she’s been through this before innumerous times, but she looks scared and confused, so you don’t say a word.
“Take her home, let her rest under the sunlight for a couple days.” Alex goes to you and smiles. “I’ll come to check upon you tomorrow, but, um...” She chokes up a little. “You-you did amazing today. I’m very proud of you, ok?”
“Thanks, aunt Alex.”
Your moms take you home, and even though you can walk, Kara insists on carrying you everywhere. She also puts your bed in the backyard so you can soak up as much sunlight as you can, and Lena makes all of your favorite foods.
You’re feeling less shitty by the minute, and their constant presence around is actually helping a lot. It’s just when Kara puts your bed back in your bedroom at night, and they don’t leave, that their presence feels a little overwhelming.
“How long are you guys going to stand around my bed like a bunch of creepers?” You ask with a smile on your face so they know you’re joking. Lena scoffs and sits on the bed next to you.
“Oh, we’re not leaving at all.” Kara immediately grabs the chair nearby.
“Not now.” Lena says hugging you and Kara smiles putting her hand on top of your wound. “Not ever.”
Notes:
I’m officially naming @hermen0404 my idea buddy. Thanks for another awesome prompt.
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jadedxrealityw · 3 years
Text
-Second And Third Chance- Tony Stark x Female Reader
    ☼-☪-☼
   Kody: favorite dilf- i’m sorry lmao
   Movie/Show: after endgame. but no one is dead because i’m still in denial.
   Summary: (Backstory included) Being the fiancee of Tony Stark was all you could dream of, but not everyone is perfect and Tony is certainly no saint. Even with Thanos being gone, Tony is still obsessing on how to keep you safe from other worldly beings, but due to his own ignorance ends up losing you all by himself. 
   Possible Triggers / Warnings: angst with fluff ending, cursing, Tony being Tony, F.R.I.D.A.Y and Wanda being your besties lmao, 
    ☼-☪-☼
   you wondered how you were ever came across such a man. Narcissistic, arrogant, just completely full of himself in every way possible. You had met the infamous Tony Stark at a shield ball/party so long ago. He was charming, you’ll admit, but you were fully aware of his playboy status. 
   you wore a long black off the shoulder dress that started skin tight at the top and flowy at the bottom, also sporting a slit down the side of the dress. Some said hi and gave you compliments on your outfit. You wanted to find Fury so you could talk to him as he was the only person you really knew. 
   walking along the floor a woman holding a platter of drinks offered you one and you gladly accepted it. You spotted Fury a few tables away, talking amongst Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers. Once you made it over, you slipped yourself into a empty seat. 
   Fury noticed you first and patted your shoulder “Didn’t think these parties were your scene Agent L/n” he spoke with his usual formality. You hummed into the glass of wine as you took a sip “They are not, but i needed a reason to drink” you admitted, earning a chuckle from Natasha. 
   you then took the time to look at both of them and smile “Natasha Steve. Still doing the whole saving the world thing?” you say. Steve cracks a smile and nods once “The world can’t seem to give us a break” he says. A chuckle bubbled in your throat “Not that you would take it though, right cap?”
   you four spent a good thirty minutes talking about the usual, until Maria Hill showed up then you got to talking about new missions that he Fury only trusted you all with. You were like Fury third in command. Someone Maria had recommended if something would have ever happened to her. 
   not to long Natasha and Steve had left the party earlier then expected, but they were always in the rush. You, Fury, and Maria were now standing next to the table. Maria’s phone rang and she slipped it from her bag and pressed the green button “Yes?...Give me ten minutes” 
   she hung it up and put it back in her bag. Fury looked at her with a questioning stare “I’m going to assume Romanoff or Rogers were on the end of that line. Would the rest of us be needed?” he asked. Maria shook her head “No. Just a minor problem. I’ll call if it escalates”
   Fury nods once and gestures with his head to the exit, dismissing her. They were so loyal to each other. Maria then sends you a polite smile before exiting the ballroom. You placed your cup on the table were you all resided minutes ago “Should we be concerned?” you ask. 
   he shakes his head “They’ll be fine. I like to come in at the end anyway, makes me alluring” he says, making you stifle a bit of laughter. “Right” you agreed not really wanting to dwell in that subject. Only seconds later is when an unfamiliar voice spoke “Nick”
   both you and Fury turn around and see the nice tailored suit belonging to the less nice man of Tony Stark. Fury cracks a small grin and holds his hand out “Stark, fashionably late” he points out. Tony grabs his hand and shakes it “Well if i wasn’t i’d be stuck looking like you losers.”
   did this grown man just call you both losers? Okay then. You folded your arms over your chest, not really paying much attention to there very testosterone filled conversation. Tony eyes removed themselves from Fury and looked at you “and who is this?” he asked. 
   you removed your eyes from the people walking past you and looked towards the billionaire “ This is Agent L/n. works alongside Agent Hill and myself” Fury explains. You give Tony a polite nod “It’s Y/n L/n” you say. Tony grins and went to say something more when Fury coughed. 
   “I’m going to use the bathroom. Tony don’t be weird” he spoke before leaving you both by your lonesome. Great. “May i offer you another drink?” he asked and you shook your head “I already had one and i have to be alert at all times. It’s in the job description. Very fine print”
   “Sounds like you need a vacation or a xanax” he makes a face, earning a small smile from you “Maybe, but i like my job too much” you reply. Tony steps to the side and gestures with his hand for you to walk. You didn’t see much wrong with that, just a friendly stroll. Why not. 
   you step in forward and Tony lifts his arm up a bit for you to link yours. ‘What a charmer’ you thought before slipping your arm through his. YOu both began to walk slowly through the ballroom “So what does your significant other think about how much you work?” he asked. 
   ‘very slick’ “I don't have a boyfriend or girlfriend at the moment. Tried dating on the job, but no one really understands how much working here changes you in a way” you explained, Tony nodding along with your answer. Being an Agent had its perks and downfalls. 
   “Why did you get into this line of work, if you don’t mind me asking?” Tony questions. It was strange seeing him be so genuine with his wording, the complete opposite of what Fury, Steve, Natasha, or Maria had to say about him. It was pleasant.  
   you gulp, a few choice memories deciding to flood your mind “I worked CIA with my sister for awhile. Our whole family was worked in some form of Government job. Then the 2012 attack happened and we were told to stand down. Me and my sister were stubborn so we didn’t”
   you inhale deeply and managed to keep your formal smile upon your face despite the urge to down another glass of wine and call it a night “No one knew about aliens back then, but we wanted to help people in any way we could. In hindsight it was very stupid of us”
   your mind began to wander to something else, the smile fading from your face and be replaced with a blank stare. For an expression so neutral it would be hard to tell that you were reliving a terrible memory. Crashing, a blood curdling scream, your pleas, and a then silence.
   Tony looked at you once you had stopped talking abruptly and used his free hand to pat your shoulder. You broke out of whatever horrific trance you were in “Sorry, zoned out- anyway my sister ended up passing, i was charged with treason funny enough, but Fury convinced them to drop the charges”
   Tony chose to ignore the brief daze you were in for your own sake and you two continued your stroll. The night ended with more talking and much needed laughter. He also offered you a ride home and you gladly took him up on that. It was really nice. 
   when you got to your house he asked you on a date to a very nice restaurant near your place. You accepted even though your brain was telling you not to. On the day of the date you ended up being called in and canceled. He said he understood and that you could reschedule anytime. 
   you never did go on that date 
    ☼-☪-☼
   just like most things it only happened once and you figured that was that. Spending a couple magical hours talking to Tony Stark would be any girls dream and just like dreams you awoke to reality. You had a job and had many other important things to do beside fantasize about a billionaire. 
   that was until Hydra took over Shield in 2014, you and Fury faked your deaths. Tony actually went to your funeral, wearing sunglasses and standing away from everybody. It was pretty sad, but you had a job to do. fury actually came back, but you stayed in hiding.
   then in 2015 when Ultron was a the main problem and you were itchy to bash some robots skulls in- wait they don’t have skulls. Whatever, Fury wouldn’t get involved. Then Sokovia became a giant plane and Fury caved. After a year of doing grunt work you could finally fight. 
   all the staff, including you loaded up a helicarrier. You made your way to the command center where Fury and Maria resided “Ah Agent Y/n. Glad that you could join us. Already suited up i see?” Fury points to your all black outfit and mask. 
   shrugging, you walked towards the front “I’ve been ‘dead’ for a year, cut me some slack for being excited” you say. Fury nods, agreeing with your statement before facing forward. “Set a course to Sokovia and making it fast” Maria announced.
   and with that, you were off
    ☼-☪-☼
  Maria hacked into the Avengers coms and connected Fury’s, your’s, and her own. “Where else am i gonna get a view like this?” a woman said through your earpiece. You instantly recognize it as Nat. You missed her so much, god you couldn’t wait to talk to her again. 
   “Glad you like the view Romanoff. It’s about to get better” Fury spoke, folding his arms behind his back, interlocking his hands. The helicarrier started to raise above Sokovia. Holy shit this is high. As you ascended you were able to see Nat and Steve standing together. Nat cut her hair, it looks pretty.
   rest of the staff began to enter the command room and set up “Nice right? Pulled her out of mothballs with a couple old friends. She’s dusty, but she’ll do” he spoke. “Fury you son of a bitch” Steve said right back. Did he just curse? That had to be Ultron. 
   “Woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Fury said with a fake surprised tone. His comment made you chuckle a bit since he had a foul mouth. Hypocrisy am i right? “Altitude is 18,000 and climbing” Maria spoke, typing away on her keyboard like desk. 
   another guy spoke up from behind you “Lifeboats secure to deploy, disengage in three...two...take them out ” he clicked one final button and sat back. You felt the helicarrier rumble beneath you, which meant the lifeboats were being sent to the ground.
   oh shit. You were supposed to be on one of those. “Shit!” you yell before running out the command room. You raced down the stairs and made your way to the deck. You watched as a lifeboat flew right below. This is such a bad idea. Your doing it anyway.
   taking a couple steps back, you mentally prepare yourself before running as fast as you could. As you touch the edge you jump and launch yourself off the helicarrier. The lifeboat came closer to you until your shoulder collided with it. You hissed and slowly pushed yourself up “Damn- that’s gonna sting”
   “Did you just jump off the helicarrier?” Fury says through the coms
   “Who did?” Steve spoke
   “Oh you know, backup-” Fury replies before Maria cut in “Sir we have multiple bogeys on our starboard flank” she spoke and indeed when you looked up you saw a bunch of Iron man suits flying above. Oh shit. “Show them what he got” he replied back. 
   you reach down and pull both guns out the holsters that were on both of your thighs “It feels good to be back” you said to yourself. You heard something fly above you that wasn’t a Bogey and saw War Machine- Rhodey blasting through a bunch of them. He’s pretty cool.
   just as you were about to bask in the moment a Bogey landed on the lifeboat and came charging at you. It swung and you ducked just in time, lifting your foot to kick it in the chest. As it stumbled back you raised your gun and shot it straight in the head.
   the literal lights behind its glass ‘eyes’ flickered until it shut off and it fell to the ground. “It better not be that easy to kill the actual Iron Man” you spoke. “And your not gonna find out” a voice spoke. You turn around and see Tony in his suit, with his arm raised, ready to attack you. 
   you raise your hands “Woah- What the hell Stark!” you shout. Oh shit- you had a mask. “I’m on your side” you add. Tony tilts his head “Really, prove it” he says. You slowly move your hand. as to not startle him and slowly pull the mas down from your face “Hey Tony”
   he visibly tensed up. His mask retracting back into his face. Still has handsome as ever. He reaches up with both arms and takes off his helmet, dropping it to the side. “So is faking your death a Shield initiation thing or you just really didn’t want to go out with me?” he asked. 
   you cracked a smile and dropped your arms to your sides “I told you work gets in the way” you said. He went to say something when four Bogeys landed on the lifeboat. Damn you couldn’t let any on until you landed. Tony groaned dramatically and shot one in the chest, causing it to fall off the ship.  
   “No. See regular work doesn’t involve faking your death. I went to your funeral you know?” he says. You drop off and push off the seat and onto the Bogey, wrapping your thighs around its head. You push the barrel of the gun against the top of its head and shot “I know. I was there!” you shout.
   “Oh that’s just great. You saw me all vulnerable and teary” he says with a scoff. what was happening right now. You drop to the ground and the Bogey grabs your leg, pulling you back. You shot it in the arm and it lets go “I actually didn’t know you cried. That’s kind of cute though”
   you shoot the Bogey in the head and stand up on your feet. Just as you are about to take a step, a metal arm wraps around your neck, pulling you back. Oh yeah there was four. You went to reach behind as Tony shot through it’s head. The grip around your neck was released and you pushed it’s corpse off.
   “Your welcome” Tony spoke, he still sounded snappy. “Your such a baby Tony. What can i do to make you stop moping?” you ask, putting one of your guns into the holster. You look behind you as the lifeboats pull up next to Sokovia “One date after all this. So i can show you what you missed of course”
   you crack a smile, pulling your hood off your head. You raise your hand and hold up one finger “One date. That’s it” you say and he nods along “That works for me” he replies before picking up his helmet. He puts it on his head “But you’ll come back for more” he says as his face is covered by metal once more.
    ☼-☪-☼
   present
   you ended up did going on that date with Tony and he was right, there would be multiple date and girts until he finally asked you to be in a relationship. It was any big grand gesture that you expected from him, it was simple and sweet. It took him three years for him to propose in 2018.
   but he was always one to wait. 
   the second battle with Thanos, but everyone seemed to be somewhat recovering, but Tony wasn’t himself anymore. You already knew he was a workaholic, but it had never been this bad. He’d stay up all night working on new tech. Security, suit adjustments, anything. 
   when it first started happening you chalked it up to his response to trauma. One night you suggested he’d go to therapist. Just one session and if he thought it would work then he could continue and vise versa. Tony ended up shooting down the idea with a couple harsh words. 
   it was strange to see him yell at you because he had never done before. It was like you were talking to an entirely different person. It scared you to be honest, but you loved him. A whole year after Thanos had gone by and he was just falling deeper and deeper into his work and less into you.
   “Friday, is Tony awake?” you spoke, pouring coffee into a black mug. You place it on the silver tray and grab the light beige cardigan off the counter, slipping it over your white sports bra. “Yes Miss. Would you like me to inform him your coming down to the lab?” Friday asked.
   “No that’s alright. I’d rather surprise him. Thank you Friday” you say and grab the tray off the counter, it had a mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes. You knew he wouldn’t have eaten already “Just doing my job Miss” she replies. You smile to yourself. You liked listening to her accent. 
       ☼-☪-☼
   you push open the door with the side of your hip since your hands were full “Tony!” you call out, looking around the lab one time. You stop as you see your lovers head pop up behind a machine you were unfamiliar of “Y/n? What’re you doing up? It’s late” he said, putting down a tablet.
   you roll your eyes and walk over to the big table in the middle, placing the tray down “It’s nine in the morning, love” you reply. Was he starting to lose track of time now? This place needed more windows clearly. Tony put on a confused face as he scratched the back of his neck “Really?”
   nodding, you lift up the mug of coffee from the tray and make your way over to Tony. You dodge a few tools laying on the ground and hand him the cup “Drink” you say. He takes it from you and brings it to his lips “Thanks” he says. While he drank you studied his face. He looked so exhausted.
   it broke your heart
   “You look terrible by the way” you comment, causing him to crack a small smile. “You said yes to this face, remember that” he retorts. Well he wasn’t wrong about that one. “That is true, seriously i want you out the lab today and into bed. Tomorrow is an important day”
   Tony goes silent for a moment and you can tell he was trying really hard to think “Tony” you said, your voice sounding like a mom who was getting ready to lecture there child for forgetting to do homework. “I know i know- important day. Can’t wait for that...day”
   you narrowed your eyes “Friday” you called out. “Yes Miss” she replies instantly. “Read me Tony’s schedule that he set for himself for the week” you ask. Tony steps forward, but you take a step back, moving away from him. “There is nothing on Mr. Stark’s schedule this week Miss” 
   wow
   moving away from Tony, you walk over to the table “It’s our anniversary tomorrow you ass” you snap at him. Tony sighs and runs his hand over his face “I’ve been busy-” “You’ve never forgot it before” your tone was unusually calm, which through Tony off. 
   “Thanos is dead Tony” 
   “I know-”
   “Then what are you doing?!” you shout, shocking yourself at the loudness of your own voice. “I’m trying to keep you safe!” he exclaims. Your fist clench. God you loved this man, but you wanted to punch him in the nose “You know i thought that you would get over this, but i can’t take much more”
   your words seem to scare Tony a bit, but you continued to speak “It’s been a year Tony. You don’t sleep next to me, we barely talk unless it’s me making sure you don’t fucking starve to death, we haven’t been intimate in god knows how long. I’m tired of being neglected”
   crying for a man was so pathetic, so you reached up and wiped any forming tears away with your thumb. Tony reached his arms out and wrapped them around you. You wanted to push him away, but he hasn't hugged you in so long, so you gave in. 
   he rubbed the back of your head as you let a few tears fall onto his shirt “I’ll stop okay- look i promise i’ll get some sleep and will have a whole day together okay?” he says. You were mad and you wanted to scream at him, but you also loved him and wanted to give him a second chance.
   “Okay, but i swear Tony. You screw this up and-” you were cut off by him placing his lips on yours. Damn Stark. You smiled lightly into the kiss and pull away a couple seconds later “and you’ll throw me out on my ass i know.” he says. 
   you ended up making Tony go to sleep in your shared room while you cleaned up his lab and such. 
    ☼-☪-☼
   the anniversary, night 
   you were waiting outside a restaurant since Tony wanted to show up in his car to ‘swoon’ you wearing a black jumpsuit, it was his favorite color on you You looked at your phone and noticed he was about ten minutes late, but that didn’t worry you much since he liked to be fashionably late. 
   he’d come. He wouldn’t risk his last chance.
   would he?
    ☼-☪-☼
   after two hours Happy ended up picking you up and taking you back to your home. He apologized for Tony a couple times, but you said it was fine. Once you got home you kicked off your heels at the door. You were kind of running on autopilot just in shock and realization at the same time.
   you knew what you had to do, but at the same time you didn’t want to, but it was over. You gave Tony a chance and he blew it. Nine years down the drain in a flash. You just couldn’t believe it. Walking down the hall, you wipe your face from the warm tears.  
   shutting the door to your shared bedroom, you go over to the closet “Miss you seem to be in distress is there anyway i can help?” Friday spoke. For an AI she was very self aware on feelings. “Is Tony awake Friday?” you ask, going over to your closet. “No Miss, he is asleep in the lab. May i call someone for you?”
   you open the closet and pull out a suitcase you had in there and bring it over to the bed “Call Wanda” you say as you unzip the suitcase, opening it up and throw it on the bed. “Of course Miss, contacting Wanda Maximoff” she replies. After a couple seconds you hear her voice. 
   “Y/n? It’s late, are you alright?” she asked. You had confided in Wanda about your relationship problems with Tony since you were both in a long term relationship. You had also told her about the anniversary thing and Tony’s last chance. she said if it didn’t work out yo could stay at her place.
   “Hey Wanda- uh. Yeah i know it’s late but-” you didn’t get to finish speaking when Wanda cut you off “Are you crying? Tony didn’t come did he? Know what? i’m on way. He better like a car through his window” she threatens, you could hear her moving around and the sound of keys. Well damn-
   you began to grab your clothes from your dresser and stuff them in your suitcase “He’s sleeping, just pull in the front. I’ll send you the gate code okay?” you say, beginning to take off the jumpsuit you were wearing. “Fine, but no promises if i see him in the street. I’ll see you soon Y/n, goodbye”
   Wanda hung up the phone “Friday-” “I sent Wanda the gate code. Before you leave would you like to leave a message for Mr. Stark?” Friday asked. You grab a dark green sweater and jeans from your dresser and throw them on quickly. You didn’t bother to pack the jumpsuit. 
   you wanted Tony to know why you had left so he could see the consequences of his actions and so that he wouldn’t tear the city apart thinking you were kidnapped. “I will, can you record a holographic message?” you ask. “Yes Miss, also Wanda will be arriving in 15 minutes”
   “Okay”
    ☼-☪-☼
   Tony awoke to the sound of his alarm blaring off into his ear “Shit. Friday shut that off!” he groans, lifting his head from the table “Yes Boss” she replies and the alarm shuts off. “Y/n has left a message for you to listen too. It is very important” she adds.
   “Play it” he says going to lay his head back down on the table “It is a holographic message, Boss” Friday says. Tony begrudgingly lifts his head and leans it on his arm “Play it” he repeats. A second later you appeared sitting on the chair at the table with a blue hue around you. 
   “Hey Tony” you spoke a half smile on your face. tony would have found comfort in it if he doesn’t your puffy eyes and saddened expression. His head lifted on his arm “Remember our anniversary, you know your last chance and all that? Yeah.” you began. Tony sighed mumbling curses under his breath.
    “I care about you, i have since you talked to me at the Shield dance, but i haven’t been your first priority in a while and i get it, but you promised when i left Shield that you would always make time for me. I know that Thanos shook you and you won’t admit it, but you need realize that something bad isn’t lurking around every corner”
   Tony watched as you reached up and rubbed your eyes, the scene tugging on his heartstrings “We need a break from each other Tony, just for a little while. I’m going to stay with some friends. Please try to help yourself, get out the lab, clean yourself up, all of that.”
   you pulled something off your ring finger and placed it on the table. Tony looked down and saw the silver ring with three aquamarine stones. He remembered proposing to you with it. You said the color reminded you of his reactor. Weirdly enough your hologram looked up at him and smiled. 
   “I’ll be waiting” you said and then flickered away “That’s the end of the message, Boss” Friday says. Tony slowly picked up the ring off the table. You had recorded the message in hear, talking to his sleeping body. He wished he had woken up. 
    ☼-☪-☼
   three months later
   staying with Wanda was fun, but after a month or so you decided to get your own place. As much as you loved your big house you shared with Tony you bought small cabin well away from the city. It was quiet, it was outdoors and you loved it. 
   when you and Tony got engaged you ended up retiring from Shield so you could be more at home and help Tony with his work, but now even though you didn’t need a job you also didn’t like the idea of sitting on your ass. In that night of packing you put your old suit in there while on autopilot. 
   It took awhile, but you called up Fury and he was more than happy to let you back in “What does Stark have to say about all this?” he asked and you just sighed quietly “What Tony doesn’t know won’t hurt him” you replied and he didn’t ask any more questions after that. 
   getting back into your old life was pretty easy. All you needed was to get back into your regular exercise regiment that you had been lacking on and you felt more confident than ever. You didn’t feel neglected or forgotten, the complete opposite, you felt badass. 
   one day when you were walking out the store after picking up some groceries you felt eyes on you as you walked along the sidewalk. After years of being an Agent you knew when you were being followed. What was strange was that it felt like someone was watching you from above.
   having a hunch at who it might be you quickly looked up and see a quick blur of red and blue swing away from your vision. Was this kid following you? but why? You duck into an alley way and walk slowly. You hear him drop behind you and follow your steps. 
   “Peter”
   “Hi” he replies in nervous tone. You turn around, placing your free hand on your hip “Why have you been following me all week Peter?” yopu ask. You haven’t talked to Peter in months. Did he need something? Peter lifts his arm and grabs the top of his mask, pulling it off of his head. 
   he was lucky you were in a remote part of the city “Mr. Stark told me you weren’t together at the moment” he starts, looking at his feet. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright” he says and flashes a toothy grin. Aw- wait. “Did Tony ask you to check on me?”
   Peter shook his head “No. He’s been busy with setting up the new senteries and therapy- i mean i don’t know. I just missed you and i can tell Mr. Stark is trying to change, but i hate to see you both so sad. I couldn’t imagine not being with Mj” he says. This kid was too adorable. 
   not only that he went out of his way to see how you were doing. Wait- what did he say about Tony “What senteries?” you asked, stepping closer to him. Peter started to fidget a bit “Uh- i really have to get going-” “Peter” you said in a demanding tone. 
   he exhaled deeply, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this “Mr. Stark has a whole line of senteries to sell to the senator so he can finally retire from being Iron Man. Not fully retire just on a long term vacation- that’s what he called it.” he spoke. Holy shit- you hoped he had done this for himself
   and you as well- but mostly himself
   a smile creeped onto your face. The most stubborn man you had ever met changed. “When does he plan on doing this?” you say to Peter “A dinner party this weekend. I wasn’t supposed to say anything until it was done. He was going to do some grand gesture to show you he’s changed” 
   you shook your head and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder “Don’t be. For once i’m doing the grand gesture”
    ☼-☪-☼
   saturday 
   after figuring out and planning on when and where you were going to show up you decided to tap into Friday’s systems and watch most of his speech then find Tony when the time was right, preferably when he was alone. Being with Tony for so long you figured out a way to enter your shared home, undetected.
   once you were in the building you hid away in a spare room that was never used “Friday show me the room Tony’s in” you spoke, pulling out your phone “Yes Miss” she spoke and on your screen you saw Tony in the dining room. You lift your phone and flick it so its projected off the screen.
   your eyes latched to Tony as soon as it turned on. He looked so different and healthy. It was pleasing to see that he was doing much better. You were also glad he took your advice. A warmth invaded your chest, it’s like you fell in love with him all over again. 
   gosh how you wanted to run into his arms that very moment. 
   “So Stark, why retire now?” the senator asked, taking a sip of wine from the glass he held. Tony seemed to tense up the question, but no one noticed other then you and Tony himself “If you asked me three months ago i would have told you to go to hell and that i don’t need to retire”
   “and now?”
   “Well back then i had my fiancee and thought i was the king of the world. Then i lost her because of my workaholic nature- also i’m not retiring Iron, Man will still be here for whoever needs him, but i think it’s time i put my future wife first if i want to keep her” he shrugs his shoulders casually.
   most at the table were stunned into silence before the senator lifted his hand for tony to shake “I guess Tony Stark does have a heart” he spoke and Tony shook his hand. You felt something warm come down your face and reached to wipe the tears away.
   god- what a charmer. Always knew just what to say.
   “Well this was fun, but my finacee i’ve been talking about is actually here on the moment” he said. Wait what? You looked at the screen as Tony’s head turned towards the camera, sending you a wink. How the hell did he find out?! Tony grabbed a pen from his pocket and signed the paper.
   “Happy will show you all out” Tony waved them off before walking out the room “If you step out the room you’ll be able to meet Mr. Stark in the hallway” Friday spoke. Oh so she snitched. Betrayal at it’s finest “Thanks Friday” you spoke before stepping out the room. 
   as you turned your head you come face to face with your husband to be, except he seemed nervous? “You look great- well you always look great” Tony says, making you form a smile “I’m proud of you” you say back. Tony reaches up, using this thumb to wipe away a stray tear. 
   “That means a lot coming from you. I can’t believe i let you slip away” his voice got darker, a frown forming. “I’m right here” you open your arms out. tony takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “But seriously Tony i will really leave you next time”
   he nods “I know i know. You can have the whole house if i do” he says, making you chuckle. After a moment of staring into each other's eyes, silently making up for lost time. “Oh my god Tony Stark if you don’t kiss me right now-” you didn’t even need to finish before his lips were on yours. 
   the kiss was desperate and starved for a deeper feeling. Who knew one person could miss another so much? After this, you speculated you’d be stuck to his side like glue for a couple weeks before he say something stupid to piss you off. 
   Tony’s hands traveled lower and lower until they gripped the back of your thighs, causing a familiar feeling to bloom within you. He pulls away from your mouth and his lips attach to your neck, leaving hot open mouthed kisses. Zero to one hundred real quick. 
   “Tony” you breathed out. You could feel the smirk against the skin of your neck. Horny bastard “Tony seriously” you say, a laugh bubbling in your throat. He pulls away and looks at you ‘I’m trying to seduce you. Why are you interrupting?” 
   you shake your head and hook your arms around his neck “I love you, you idiot”  you say, trying to catch your breath. A ego filling grin decorated his face as he pecked your lips “I love you too. Now let me get back to work” he says and goes back to kissing your neck and his hands worked off your belt.
   yeah- you were in love 
    ☼-☪-☼
   Click here to join my Taglist!    @sonbelleame @hel-viti @loudbluepancake @vmame
    ☼-☪-☼
   Kody: Eh this kinda sucks. requests are open and my taglist. Anyways, peace
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baubaes · 3 years
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hi! is there a chance for Jemily with no22? some angst maybe? cheers🤗
Well hello to you to! And of course there is!
@thatonecurlygirl prompt list 22
“I can’t give you what you want.”
Ship: Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau
Word count: 5,4k
Genre: angst/hurt/fluff/very very light nsfw? i have no clue how to label this
Warnings: mentions of violence, death, injuries, classic criminal minds vibes :^)))
Summary: "Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead. She, however, was on a plane to Paris." aka JJ taking care of staked Emily, the blackbird flashback and events around it.
A/N: i thought of way too many scenarios when even though Emily and JJ are literally in love, it could never work out. here's one of them :^) i hope you'll enjoy it!! xx ana apparently i just can't imagine a scenario in which these characters could have a peaceful, quiet and happy life, im so sorry
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Emily felt drained.
She was all hurting, really bad, her head was killing her, not only from the beating she received those several days ago, but also the mere stress of all this.
It was pretty baffling for her to realize that she survived this whole ordeal.
She couldn’t say for how long she was out; it felt both like a blink of an eye and an eternity.
And she really thought that she died, when she eventually lost consciousness in Morgan’s arms. That still felt like ages ago.
It was all really confusing, but then again, she couldn’t spare too much of her strength to dwell on what actually happened. Emily just felt too weak to try to keep her eyes open for too long and that resulted in her reality being pretty much scattered.
When she woke up in a hospital room, she was dazed and overwhelmed. They’ve put her on some strong painkillers after the surgery and most of the time right then felt like a blur. She thought she heard some voices in her dream, maybe doctors, maybe… Was it JJ?
She heard bits and pieces of conversations, somebody commenting on her condition in a low voice, nervous footsteps circling around the room, the dimmed rhythmical sounds of all the equipment she was hooked to, some sort of buzzing and a one sided conversation that had to be a phone call.
Was it just some bizarre dream?
A way for her subconscious mind to cope with the anxiety surrounding the recent events?
Whether it was real or not, it let her stay in this state of slumber brought to her through an IV drip.
Despite all that, she felt really grateful. She wasn’t sure where to channel this gratitude though;
Her team for backing her up?
The doctors for patching her up in the OR?
God, for allowing her to continue her existence?
Then again, she wasn’t sure if the last one existed, nor that the almighty entity would waste its time on making sure little old her survives.
It was comforting though, that her last moments on this Earth managed not to be spent with Doyle, even if that was against her will, so in theory, she didn’t have much of control over this.
Memories of him were a combination of ones that she’s made as Emily Prentiss and ones that she’s made as Lauren Reynolds. As Emily, it consisted of all those moments when he threatened her and her team, he kidnapped her, tortured her, nearly killed her…
As Lauren she was able to saw his more… Humane side.
Lauren was his girlfriend. Lauren lived with him,
Lauren shared her joys and fears with him. Lauren loved him.
But that was Lauren.
She wasn’t real. An identity, that’s all that she was.
And even though Emily tried to convince herself that Lauren’s feelings were perfectly compartmentalized away from her own, deep down she knew she was lying to herself.
Was Doyle ever somebody she actually loved?
She definitely despised him, but it felt like now she was obligated to despise even her own self for ever having feelings for this monster. Positive ones anyway.
Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead.
She, however, was on a plane to Paris.
It was all coordinated by Hotchner and JJ.
Nobody else knew.
Her team, her friends, her loved ones were about to attend her funeral in a few days.
She imagined confused look on Spencer’s face, Garcia’s eyes filled with tears, Morgan frowning and looking away. Would Rossi be sad, or would he finally feel relieved to be ridded of her impulsiveness and comments on literally everything?
She imagined her mother, who obviously was not on it, throwing a pile of soil on the coffin. That would not hold her body inside. Would she cry? Would she stay composed even at a funeral of her only child? Well, again, it wasn’t real real, but she wouldn’t be able to realize that.
For some reason, she figured JJ would’ve taken it upon herself to feel guilty, despite knowing what was going on.
They both knew it was the only way to make it all work.
Emily worried about everyone, but there were two people she worried about the most. Spencer and Penelope.
They both were incredibly strong, but she couldn’t be sure how would they deal with this.
She worried, since Reid did not cope well with losing authorities. And even if he would never admit it to her face, she knew that he looked up to her.
The thought of that made her feel the bile appear on the back of her throat.
That kid has lost so many people already… And he internalized all that, it had to be weighing on him every single day. It felt cruel to add another person to that list.
She had to keep thinking about the bigger picture to even remotely be able to deal with all that.
Now Garcia was somebody that Emily truly loved.
It was hard to imagine her being sad over her „death”.
Not because of the probability of the blonde being sad,
rather the severity of her grieving, Emily would imagine.
Penelope was one of those people who were able to feel so much, maybe even too much sometimes.
And on a daily basis it was wonderful. That’s what’s made her such an incredible, empathetic human being, who, despite their job, was still able to not only - be cheerful, but to cheer others up as well.
When she thought of that, it felt as if her heart could break to million pieces.
It was strange, how in that moment she should still feel the pain;
They’ve stabilized her after the surgery, but there were still bruises on her face, stitches across her abdomen, burnt skin on her chest. And she did feel it, but it was blurred, far away.
The feeling that made her grasp reality to the point of hyperawareness was the emotional pain.
Somehow she was able to compare it to the pain of being staked.
She still wasn’t sure what was a proper emotional response in that situation.
It wasn’t in the manual, or in training, despite people having to go… Well, faking your own death was like going undercover, in a way.
Both at the Interpol and the FBI, nobody taught her how to feel, while pretending to be dead.
She knew how to make it happen technically, more or less. After all, Lauren had already died. Her old team, JTF-12, was able to pull that off those several years ago. Including her of course.
But that was Lauren. An identity, which, sure, she’s been tied to for quite some time, living as her, acting like her, becoming her in a way.
Still, just an identity.
Right now, there wasn’t a disguise, an identity to toss away, allowing her to come back to her regular life.
Right now her regular life was supposed to cease to exist.
Before, she thought about her goal and the fact, that she survived. She was grateful, in some way she felt obligated to take care of Declan and she wouldn't be able to do that, if she was actually dead, right?
Even though she knew that she had no right to feel attached to the boy as much as she did, she just couldn’t help it. The image of him as a toddler, walking around the room in Doyle’s house stuck in her head. She couldn’t shake it off. And even before Doyle found her, that image caused her to have problems with falling asleep from time to time.
Emily never seriously thought of herself becoming a mother, for that role to be the main purpose of her life. She was afraid of screwing her potential children up, because she knew that even if she meant well, it wouldn’t guarantee them turning out okay. And her line of work made it impossible to both realistically approach the idea of maternity - she didn’t have a partner and if she were to be a single mother - it would be impossible to keep up with the BAU - that job was just too demanding; but also she saw so many downright evil, just unimaginable things that people were capable of doing to one another. How could she ever be able to shield a child from that?
Suddenly, all these ridiculous, small things that she wouldn’t think twice about made her feel as if each and every part of her life was just slipping through her fingers, right there, right then.
That one window in her apartment, the one with the wide windowsill, she loved to sit on it and watch the sky. Sergio would curl up in her lap or right next to her, on the windowsill, quietly purring, when she would pet his black fur. It didn’t happen often, because most nights she'd come home so exhausted, all she could basically do was just pass out on her bed. And Sergio would sleep on a pillow right next to her, despite Emily's promises to herself that she will teach him to stop, because she'd wake up covered in his fur with a runny nose.
But when she had a chance to do that, it made her mind stop racing, at least for a few minutes. That barely ever happened anywhere else.
Now she realized that Sergio was alone in her apartment and she panicked. But just for a second, because then she remembered JJ in the hospital, telling her that Penelope took him in. Of course she did. He'd definitely be surrounded with love. She wished she could've just taken him with her though, since she's already been missing him. Silly little fur ball, making her fall in love with him gradually. Penelope wouldn't be able to resist his charm for sure, she thought to herself, smiling. Still, she felt really sad.
Emily realized that she’s left so many things behind.
She didn’t think of herself as someone intensively attached to material possessions, but all these had a sentimental value for her and that was the only thing that mattered.
The thoughts invading her head were random, coming to her without any particular sense or order, falling on her mind like an avalanche.
And she thought about that crumpled up picture, capturing her with her friends when she was a teenager, back in Rome.
A cross, that her mother gave her on her first communion. She wasn’t ever really wearing it, but she liked knowing that it was safely tucked away in one of the drawers in her closet. It brought her some strange kind of comfort.
A box with letters she’d exchange with her father when she was a kid, because even though they moved around together as a family, he still would have assignments all around the world. So he would leave for a single weekend, or for several months at a time. No matter how long or short was he leaving for, he’d always try and send her a postcard, hence the collection of them, both from huge cities in Europe and Asia and tiny places she’s never even heard of before in America or Australia.
Maybe she wasn’t going through this box ritually on some settled schedule, but every once in a while she would look at those tacky pictures of touristy little towns, as well as simple, beautiful pictures of great historical monuments or watercolored landscapes of picturesque countrysides. And they'd make the corners of her lips rise up just a tiny bit.
All that with a couple words reading simple greetings, scribbled in a hurry, in her dad’s small, not exactly neat handwriting, on the back of each and every one of them.
„Love you, Dad” summed up every single message.
And looking at those words made her feel warmth, both now and when she was a little girl. Her father wasn’t very talkative and he rarely told her he loved her unprompted. So she got used to reading these words, instead of hearing them from him.
She cherished these postcards and anytime she’d go through them, she noticed some kind of feeling spread throughout her body, that felt like pure joy, but also love and safety.
Kurt Vonnegut’s "Sirens of Titan".
Morgan lent it to her a few months ago.
The book was by her bed, bookmarked with some crumpled receipt for groceries she’d found at the bottom of her purse, when she'd had to suddenly break away from Rumfoord and Kazak on the jet.
She’s read it before, truth be told, (in Italian and back in the ’80s), but Morgan insisted that she just had to read the original version. And even though there was a stack of books she wanted to read going back at least two years sitting on her bedroom floor, dangerously leaning against the radiator, the day she brought it home, she placed the Sirens on the very top of her bedside table, instead of the stack.
She’d imagine Morgan would appreciate that gesture.
Morgan, her partner.
Morgan, who held her before she passed out.
Morgan, who always had her back.
And she tried to do the same for him in the field.
He’s saved her ass countless times.
Emily wished she could have had his back right now.
She realized with a paralyzing fear that it could last forever.
Doyle could lay low, undetected for years.
Would it keep Morgan up at night?
Would he blame himself, wondering?
If he'd gotten to her seconds earlier, if he had only ran faster, if he’d found her sooner, would it change anything?
Thinking about that made her fists clench suddenly.
If she had any fingernails left, they would surely dig into the skin of her palms very painfully right now.
Emily felt this overwhelming guilt filling her chest, making her throat feel as if it was closing, her teeth grit.
She felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if the jet’s cabin had become decompressed and she couldn't reach the oxygen mask.
"You’re doing okay?"
She heard the soft and calming voice of her only companion on this flight, naturally besides the pilot.
JJ was looking at her with those big, worried, blue eyes and even though Emily’s first instinct was to nod, as she did just that, she felt her eyes watering.
"I can't stand the thought of all of them grieving over a lie."
She mumbled out.
"Emily, you know that this is the only way. We’d never make them go through this, if there were any other options. They will understand."
JJ’s voice became more firm with the last sentence, she was obviously in a mind space reserved for dealing with crisis.
"I really thought that was it, you know?"
Emily asked, a little startled at the sound of her own voice.
She couldn’t recall the last time she’s held an actual conversation with another person, one that wouldn’t consist of barely understandable mumbling as a form of communication on her end.
"There came that point, where the pain went away, I guess I went into shock. I heard Morgan’s voice and I wanted to keep my eyes open like he told me to so bad, but I just couldn’t. I felt like I was slipping away and it felt so… Easy. I wasn’t scared at all. I… I knew you guys would take care of Declan, if I wasn’t around. And that all of you would be okay."
She said, trying to piece together everything that happened.
"And apparently I've coded in the ambulance? I had no idea, but some glimpses are coming back to me, slowly. But it was like I’d fallen asleep."
She added, her face reflecting her mind in a state of deep contemplation.
Her thoughts were interrupted by JJ’s voice.
"Thank God, you didn’t…"
Emily only now noticed that with every word that she spoke, JJ’s eyes became more and more glossy. She frowned.
"Hey, I’m here."
She leaned in and smiled faintly.
"Its gonna take way more than some branding and a little stake for you to get rid of me."
JJ laughed, wiping the tears away, before they had a chance to flow down her cheeks.
"Why would I ever want to get rid of you?"
Blonde asked, her voice now soft, her expression puzzled.
Emily felt something strange in her chest.
At first her brain assumed it had to be her burnt skin and damaged nerve endings, but no.
It felt nice, it wasn’t painful.
That warmth, spilling around her insides.
She didn’t have a witty comeback to her question. She wanted to think it was because of the meds making her hazy, but she wasn’t sure anymore. She just looked down at her chest and frowned again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The first thing I’m doing, when we get to Paris is having this removed."
She heard her own voice.
"How could a brand hurt more than getting staked?"
"Maybe it’s a psychosomatic itch you’re scratching? The brand left an emotional toll, Doyle established dominance over you by marking you as his, a stake… I mean you overcame death. The ultimate victory over your foe. Why suffer a pain you’re proud of?"
JJ wondered, actually trying to analyze all that. She looked at her, now amused.
"Or you could always get another tattoo."
Emily laughed at that. JJ continued.
"You know, something transformative? Like a… A phoenix. Or a blackbird."
"I love the song."
Emily said.
"But something tells me, I shouldn’t tread in your waters."
JJ looked at her with a questioning look.
"Come on, JJ. Something’s obviously different about you. You commandeered an Interpol jet. You’re profiling me."
JJ looked down and sighed. Emily continued.
"Why didn’t you say your transfer was a backstop?"
At that JJ’s expression turned to a confused one, indicating that what the other woman said was the truth.
"Oh, I know that look. The 'I can’t trust anyone, but myself' look. I invented it."
Emily added, trying to make it sound funny, but ultimately, it still came out serious, because it was true. JJ smiled at her slightly, but she looked sad.
"Do you ever feel like you’re in way over your head?" Emily nodded, wanting her to continue.
"I got assigned to an information hunt. Instead, I am chasing an unsub, who killed my informant."
"What would Hotch tell you to do?" Emily asked without hesitation. That’s how she found her way around during any investigation, ever since she joined the BAU.
"Focus on victimology, let behavior lead the way…"
JJ listed out loud.
"Exactly. Who did your unsub kill?"
"The one person I was getting through to."
"Why?"
Emily continued with her questions, seeing that they initiated JJ’s thought process.
"Because I was getting through to…" JJ said, frowning.
"I was getting through to her. What if she was about to expose her killer? Someone on the inside…"
Emily could tell that JJ needed somebody else to look at her situation and see it in from a different angle. JJ got really pensive, her eyes glued to some nonexistent point in space.
"It sounds like it's time for you to be the blackbird and flip the script." Emily said slowly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I guess it does." JJ said with a tiny smile, before getting up.
"Hey, why won’t you try and sleep at least a while? We won’t be landing for several hours, so…"
"Right. You should try and sleep too. I’ve been in a coma, so I caught some Zs, when you think about it. Medically induced ones, but still. You on the other hand must be exhausted."
Emily’s face was covered in grey, purple and yellow spots, but JJ’s face, even though not bruised, still indicated that she had a rough couple of days. She had bags under her eyes, her cheeks pale, instead of slightly flushed like they normally were, her face tired.
They both looked quite miserable.
JJ just smiled in response, but her eyes weren’t a part of that smile. Her eyes stayed sad.
She walked to another seat, so she could try and lie down.
Emily wanted to let JJ rest, because she suspected that by suggesting sleeping, she actually had an excuse to take a nap herself, even if it was supposed to last only few minutes. She deserved a good night sleep, Emily thought to herself, watching the blonde struggling to find a comfortable position. When she eventually succeeded, Prentiss leaned back in her own seat, looking out the window. Her chest was still burning, but she wouldn’t even flinch. Her eyes, almost independently from her will, landed on the other woman every couple of minutes. She watched JJ’s chest move rhythmically, until her breathing became really deep and really steady and she was without a doubt asleep.
She knows what’s happening,
Emily thought to herself.
And so does Hotchner.
Yet, they’re going to have to look at the rest being in pain and they’re going to have to pretend that they’re going through the same thing.
And when she thought about Hotch, it wasn’t that hard to imagine.
He would keep himself perfectly composed in pretty much any situation she ever saw him in.
He was able to calculate his next move without showing as much as a microexpression.
It could be a little unsettling sometimes, but then again when he was surrounded by his family, when he was with Jack, he would expose this softer and loving side of himself. Just a bit. It was quite the view.
Emily had no doubt that he was a good father. And a good man.
He really was great at planning, thinking ahead like no one else;
he had his way of smoothly dealing with issues that inevitably came up during their investigations.
All those things made him an incredible section chief.
Emily was certain that she could trust him with her life. And she did.
It would be hard for anyone to keep such a burdening secret from people you are constantly around.
Eventually, you could start believing the lie, but that also took dedication. It was even harder when you had to lie to people that were actually a part of your life, people that you were close to.
It’s one thing to be undercover and to keep a secret from people you’re trying to infiltrate. During such operations it felt justified to do that, choosing the lesser evil, the end justify the means and all that.
It’s a completely different thing to do that to your friends and family.
"The secret to getting away with lying is believing with all your heart. That goes for lying to yourself even more so than lying to another."
A quote by the author Elizabeth Bear, that she's memorized from reading her New Amsterdam series more than once. She was repeating it in her mind, not being able to stop.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. She knew that they made the right call. Still, it was just devastating, thinking what they voluntarily sentenced themselves to.
She tried to calm herself down with proper breathing. It helped.
Emily finally decided to try to sleep. She thought that since she was still medicated, she’d pass out easily, but that didn’t happen.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw faces of her team members. She felt like her chest was being crushed. Breathing didn't really help.
After what felt like forever of forcing herself to fall asleep without any luck, she opened her eyes and just kept them open. She focused her gaze on what was behind the window.
The clouds, barely visible in the navy skies.
She didn’t do it on purpose, but she realized that she started to dissociate.
And she let herself do it.
The numbness felt better than the stinging guilt.
She didn’t really register it, but tears left her eyes, falling on her lashes and cheeks, as her deep, dark eyes focused on the navy color in front of her, forty thousand feet above the ground.
She couldn’t tell how long it took, but only JJ’s turning in her sleep, simultaneously throwing a bag off the seat made Emily come back to reality. Blonde didn’t wake up. She looked really peaceful.
She thought about not seeing her for God knows how long. It stung, to a point of her gasping. Afraid, that maybe that could’ve woken her up, Emily wiped her tears away, but JJ’s eyes stayed closed. And these intrusive thoughts came back to roam inside her head.
Sure, JJ wouldn’t be with the BAU now, since she’s had that informant operation, but no doubt, she would still see them. They were a huge part of her life after all.
Emily watched her face, calm and soft, imaging it twisted in pain and grief, having to pretend one of their own was dead.
In her mind, JJ was one of the strongest people she knew. She was persistent, hardworking and incredibly professional, but she was also kind, nurturing and very loyal.
What she was doing for her at this very moment proved it perfectly.
She knew that JJ accepted her part in this plan on her own and if she were to start trying to talk her out of it (never mind that it was also too late for that at this point), she wouldn’t change her mind. To be fair, if they switched places, she would do the same for JJ, but still, she couldn’t stop worrying about the woman sleeping on a seat across from her.
Emily watched her friend and it brought her some sort of comfort, a feeling of safety.
She finally dozed off, trying not to think, but focused on JJ’s steady breathing instead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Emily, we’ll be landing in about an hour."
She heard, opening her eyes, and she saw JJ standing in front of her, one of her hands on her shoulder.
"I thought you’d like to change before the transfer."
Emily’s hand landed on top of hers, holding both of them on her shoulder.
"Oh, right. Thank you, I…" she looked down at their hands, trying to focus. "We’ll have to say goodbye soon, right?" she blurted out, looking back at her face.
JJ sighed and sat down right next to her, not taking her hand away, but instead, intertwining their fingers and resting both their hands in Emily’s lap.
"Well, it seems so."
She smiled, but her eyes were reddened, filling with tears once again.
Emily’s gaze was glued to their hands, watching JJ’s wrist and fingers, so delicate right now, but perfectly capable of throwing a good punch. Her eyes stopped at the ring on her finger; Henry’s birthstone. She felt that strange feeling again, that warmth spreading throughout her body.
"It’s not going to last forever. We will find Doyle."
JJ mumbled out and Emily held her breath.
"I know, but… I will miss you so much."
Emily said, before instinctually putting her arms around blonde’s waist, to which she responded with wrapping her arms around her neck. JJ tried to be gentle, because of Emily’s condition, but brunette only held her tighter.
They were so close right now, that she could hear the other woman’s heartbeat. It was slightly elevated.
JJ pulled back just a little, so she could look at her face.
"I will miss you as well." she whispered, their eyes laid on each other.
JJ said the next sentence so quietly, that Emily could barely hear it.
"You’re very special to me, you know that?"
Emily wouldn’t be able to logically explain why she did what she did next, but somehow her hands ended up on both sides of JJ’s face and she leaned in, placing her lips on blonde’s ones.
She wasn’t thinking, but as she kissed her, the other woman immediately kissed her back. Emily felt soft palms cupping her face, her eyes closed. That kiss was filled with so much pain and longing and some kind of desperation.
But it made her whole body fill up with that warmth.
Emily wasn’t even sure what that was, so she tried to be gentle. She ended up kissing JJ in a somewhat shy manner, yet the other agent was deepening the kiss with each second, making it more and more passionate. Emily felt her back hitting the wall and a moan left her throat, captured by the kiss. JJ reacted by slowing down, moving her fingers across her face, running them through her hair. Emily was still cupping JJ’s face, her skin felt so soft and warm under her fingers when she brushed them across her cheeks. Their tongues slowly swirling around one another, this time Emily caused JJ to gasp, as she bit her lower lip. She responded with kissing brunette even more eagerly, so Emily brushed her fingers along her neck, resting them on her shoulders. One of her hands was caressing the skin covering JJ’s collarbone. At that she sighed, barely audibly, but Emily caught it. Her fingers moved towards the skin covering her breastbone.
JJ suddenly pulled back and broke the kiss, leaving both of them breathing heavily, blood flowing through their cheeks and lips.
Emily placed her hands back on JJ’s shoulders, she didn’t mean to make her feel uncomfortable.
Finally, after what felt like forever, she broke the silence.
"JJ, I…" she didn’t even know what to say. It wasn’t right. She had a loving husband, a family. She didn’t mean to ruin it for her.
"We don’t have to talk about this." she said quickly and Emily felt strange. She took her hands off of her shoulders and leaned back, so there was space between them.
"I… Dont… Look, if we won’t see each other for…"
She started, but her voice broke, when she realized what expression showed up on JJ’s face.
Regret.
Emily felt so many contradicting things in that moment, that she basically froze. JJ was looking away.
"You went through something traumatic, we all did. It’s only natural to crave human contact then. And it can present itself in many different ways. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine."
"JJ, it means… It means everything for me."
Emily choked out, placing her hand on top of blonde’s. JJ turned her hand, so she could squeeze Emily’s one between her fingers.
She smiled looking at their hands, but only for a fraction of a second. And then she took her hand away, only to look Emily straight in her eyes. She seemed sad, but also… Agitated.
"I can’t give you what you want, Emily." she said quickly, getting up.
"There’s too many reasons why. And… You have to leave."
JJ stated, sort of matter-of-factly.
Emily couldn’t really comprehend what just happened. But all of the pain, both physical and mental suddenly came back, not dimmed anymore.
This was… This wasn’t the time for this. Come on, Emily, it’s time to compartmentalize again. You used to be so good at this!
Well, before joining the team anyway.
"We’re landing in 15. You have to change, definitely cover up these bruises at least a bit." JJ continued talking, her voice morphing back to that task-oriented tone. She was taking clothes and makeup out of the bags, handing the items to her. "Hurry."
Emily felt like she couldn’t move, but she forced herself to get up and do what she needed to. They weren’t looking at each other and even though she wanted to scream, she kept perfectly quiet.
Compartmentalize. It’s not the time. It didn’t mean anything.
They landed and after JJ made sure that the right person was waiting outside to drive Emily to a safehouse, she stood in front of her and hugged her. Emily wasn’t really expecting that right now, since the atmosphere was so tense.
"I will miss you, no matter what." JJ whispered and even though Emily was so stunned from the pain and all around confused, she knew they couldn’t part without a proper goodbye.
"Thank you, for everything. Take care of them." Emily said and she embraced her tightly, one last time. Emily wanted to say that she’ll miss her like crazy, but it felt both like too much and not enough.
She didn’t want to let them turn this into a final goodbye.
"Of course. I will see you soon, okay?" JJ smiled and Emily smiled back. It wasn’t the best forced smile, but she just couldn’t do better in that moment.
"Goodbye, Jennifer." she said sounding way too official, taking a first step out.
"Goodbye, Emily."
Prentiss turned away and quickly made her way to the parked car.
She saw JJ’s face one last time through the tiny window.
The car left the landing strip and disappeared in the night.
„Goodbye, Emily.” she thought to herself, as she caught her own reflection in the side mirror.
„Goodbye, Emily.”
JJ whispered, placing a red rose on the coffin.
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