#<- I know she’s from Inazuma but she lives in Fontaine so. She’s here

[meikocean]

⛲️ Fontaine women icons ✧˖°.

Good luck to everyone pulling for Arlecchino and Clorinde on their reruns tomorrow!! I want them both but I want Arlecchino a bit more, but maybe if I’m lucky I can get both <3

[everparanoid]

Wholesome Delinquent Behaviour┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , smut, light Angst

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: consent is hot, it's all good till the backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader is Not Traveler, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Squirting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, biting kink, inappropriate use of cuffs, spoilers for wriothesley story quest, No use of y/n, Past Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Facials, PWP, Blowjobs, handjobs, everything between reader and wriothesley is consensual

wordcount: 9.5K

synopsis: The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well; if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You are a prisoner at Meropide who meets and falls in love with Wriothesley over the years of knowing him, and he falls harder.

Originally posted: 30.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: ''Safeword'' by TV Girl.

I don't own any of the artwork used.

If everything could come to a stop, just for something she says,

The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well, and if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You wiped away the sweat coating your brow with the back of your dirtied hand, heaving a deep sigh. The production zone, despite being at the bottom of the ocean, was like what you imagined the hot springs of Inazuma to feel like. You wanted to go there one day—to Inazuma. Although the borders were closed to the outside, the stories you heard of the beautiful Sakura blossoms filled you with the determination to get there. One day, you would. You were sure of it. If you didn’t get struck down by their archon first.

“Inmate, stop slacking! Unless you don’t want to eat tonight,” the guard manning the floor yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes and continued hammering at the heated chunks of metal. Your arms were weak, and your palms were sweaty. It was times like this when you wished you had a cryo vision. You wished for many things. You wished you hadn’t been caught. You wished Fontaine were a better place. You wished that Monsieur Neuvillette felt even an ounce of sympathy for your case, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the court of Fontaine was as ‘fair’ as they came. The sky had down poured the night you were sent to Meropide. It was the worst Fontaine had seen in four hundred years. You hadn’t seen the sky properly since you probably never would. People rotted down here. So, all you could rely on was the glistening memory of bitter water, and your dreams.

It was better, you decided, to be punished here than in Sumeru, Inazuma, or even Monstadt. You’d been to Liyue once, but you weren’t there long enough to have a clear judgement of whether their form of justice would be any better. Then again you had been arrested before you got out of Liyue and they handed you straight back to Fontaine to be judged by your home region’s laws.

“Inmate!” The guard yelled snapping you from your thoughts. “You’re wanted at the administration area.”

You dropped your hammer, relieved for the break, and shoved past the guard on your way to the lift.

I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge,

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” another guard said as you meandered leisurely toward them.

This guard you liked.

Meropide inductions didn’t happen often. Most of the time the convict was thrown into their dorm and made to figure it out themselves. In the instances of special cases, you were brought out like a friendly face before the storm. You had no clue why it was you they chose, but you always got paid handsomely in credit coupons, so the particulars didn’t matter to you. You had long since abandoned the idea of fairness down here where the sun doesn’t shine.

“What have we got this time?” you asked cracking your knuckles.

“A kid, your age.”

You paused. It wasn’t often you met people around your age down here. Everyone was either one foot in the grave or an adult.

What could this kid have done to end up down here with the downs and outs? You looked out the large glass window, it stared out into the deep blue Fontainian waters. The sea was dark, so you guessed it must be night. Time was more of an idea, a concept if you will, down in the depths. So, you enjoyed rare moments like these to re-calibrate yourself. It was a shame. You had hoped to at least feel the sun’s rays through the water’s refraction, but it was like you said beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The lift lowered down behind you, and you turned to greet this so-called new inmate. You were greeted by a tall scrawny boy, probably not even a year older than yourself with dull icy eyes and jet-black hair. He was drenched in that same bitter water.

You put on your brightest smile and offered your hand.

“Welcome to hell,” you said.

Not your best work but it caused a small snicker from the boy, and your favourite guard who stayed close by. Strange. They never stayed around. Were they that concerned about your ability to induct a fellow teenage delinquent?

Wriothesley paused. When he was given his verdict by the Monsieur Neuvillette he didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Well, warm as far as being greeted at its entrance.

He didn’t take your hand, instead opting to stare at you with those haunted eyes. You were disheveled at beast and downright filthy at worst. Nothing to sing or dance about. Nothing to fall head over heels in love with either, but you didn’t care. Who wanted to find happiness in misery anyway?

“Hell?” Wriothesley echoed. His voice was steady and stern like he was aged beyond his years; by the lack of life in his eyes, he probably was. “Is it that bad down here?”

You shrugged one shoulder.

“Depends,” you said.

“On what?” he asked, calculating. You could feel his brain working from where you stood. 

Fascinating.

“Depends on how stupid you are,” you looked him up and down, chewing the inside of your cheek absentmindedly. Then, as if a rocket had been shot up your butt, you spun on your heels and gestured for him to follow with a lazy flick of your wrist.

He did so, catching up to you easily with his long legs and just as long stride.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you said as the lift doors closed behind you taking you down to the actual entrance of Meropide not the fancy entrance for visitors too afraid to see the truth. Fontaine was a giant opera, and you lot in Meropide were the hidden stage crew, slaving behind the scenes after losing your spot in the limelight.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded flatly from beside you.

“Clearly that was the hint for you to tell me.”

“It’s Wriothesley,” he said.

It didn’t sound like it was his actual name. Hell, it didn’t sound like a name at all, but who were you to judge? Meropide was a place to start a new; to redeem yourself from your sins, and nearly burn to death in the production zones breaking your back for an administrator who was a tyrant. What was a kid reclaiming their identity going to do to you?

“Nice to meet you, Ricecake.”

“Ricecake?”

“Hey, you give me a name I can’t pronounce you live with the consequences, Ricecake.”

The doors opened and the lift groaned as steam poured out of its pipes and vents. Some unfortunate soul was going to have to clean those later, and you prayed it wasn’t going to be you. You had a burn on the inside of your arm from the last time you cleaned those steaming pipes, it was a jagged ugly thing to look at, so you kept it hidden. Out of sight out of mind, right?

The receptionist sat behind the desk looking as melancholy as everyone else in this place. Wriothesley was going to fit in just fine, you thought, as you remembered that same almost dead look in his eyes.

“You coming?” you asked the boy who stood gawking at you from the lift. “It won’t take you back up you know. I mean you can try. It’s your sentence you’re lengthening.”

“You don’t recognise me?”

“No?” you said. “Should I?”

You tried to recall when you would have seen him before but only drew blanks. You’d seen so many of the same faces and watched so many of them die that telling anyone apart was a pipe dream for you. However, for some reason, you knew that Wriothesley would stick in your head. Not just because the name was so peculiar but because something about him intrigued you. He didn’t seem upset down here yet. No, he looked curious. Curiosity was dangerous. Curiosity got the smartest people in here killed or beaten half to death. No, Wriothesley stuck in your head because he reminded you of hope.

So, when those sounds start to drift down the hall, and stat to freak out the neighbours,

“No coupons, no meal,” the chef said, his voice booming through the place. You wondered over questioning who would be stupid enough to get into conflict with the head chef. He was a burly man, tall with a glassy eye and a wooden spatula the size of a person. The rumour was that he had been a Fatui skirmisher in the overworld. The truth was he was like every other soul in here, beaten and trapped. Upon seeing the familiar woolfy black hair, spiked in random places you inserted yourself into the conversation.

“Sorry about that boss. He’s new,” you said to the chef.

He waved his beefy, greasy hand at you to leave.

“Don’t let your friend come back unless he has coupons. This isn’t charity,” he said with a thick Snezhnayan accent.

“Gotcha,” you said and gave the chef a salute. Hooking your arm under Wriothesleys, you pulled him out of the cue. He nearly tripped over his foot. You dragged him to a secluded table a little away from everyone else, where your singular special box of bread and curry waited for you.

You let him go.

You pointed to the wall where it read, ‘If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’

“Sit,” you commanded pointing to the chair opposite yours.

Wriothesley stared at you like you had grown four heads.

“I have no food,” he said.

“I can see that,” you responded, opening your box and letting the steam waft out. Both of your stomachs groaned at the same time. It had been a while since you had had decent food from the chef, it would be even longer till you had another one; credit coupons weren’t easy to come by and they were better spent on other things like making sure you didn’t get smothered in your sleep.

“How much did that cost?”

“More than you’ll make in your first year,” you said breaking up the bread in your hands.

He gulped dryly.

“How do you know that?”

“You’re a fresher. You’re basically free labour until you have some experience behind you, and some meat on your bones. You’ll be lucky if they pay you a tenth of what you should be getting in your first year. Unless you can fight.”

You let your words settle in the silence between you.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“What?”

“Your crime? What did you do? The guards treat you like a danger to humanity,” you said glancing at the guard who watched you both intently. You could understand them glaring at you but why him?

Wriothesley shifted in his seat, straightening up as if preparing for something.

“I killed my parents,” he said.

He didn’t say anything more than that, he didn’t need to.

You blinked.

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

You let it sink in for a minute and then nodded.

“I will not be offended if you run, after all this is the entire truth,” he said bluntly. His stomach growled again, and he clutched it willing it to silence itself.

“We’re all crooks and criminals down here,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean we are all bad.”

He lifted an eyebrow at you. You supposed it was because he was expecting you to run. Which meant he obviously didn’t know you. 

“What if I am just a bad guy?”

You shrugged. It was not like you were the dog’s bollocks yourself.

“I have a good enough instinct to know that you aren’t, Ricecake,” you said and pushed your now broken-up bread and curry meal toward him. You were going to regret it. You hadn’t eaten a full-fledged meal in three months, but still, you gave it anyway. “Eat.”

You would have wanted someone to do the same for you when you got here. Friends weren’t made under the sea. His eyes widened and his pale face brightened for the first time since you had met him.

“This is yours,” he said, sounding flabbergasted.

“Now it’s yours,” you said. “Eat up and get some rest. You need to be strong if you want to survive around here.”

You noticed something in his eyes then, a spark. It was dull but it flickered. Your stomach flipped again.

You took a sip of your water before pushing it over to him. He was going to need it more than you.

“Thank you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“There is no need for thanks between us. See it as me looking out for a fellow delinquent.”

“Delinquent?” he said taking his first bite of the bread drowned in curry sauce and rolling his eyes in bliss at the flavours. He began to hoover up the box like it was running away from him.

You remembered when you were like that with every small crumb of bread you got when you first got here. Your stomach flipped. What kind of hell had Wriothesley come from?

“Slow down buddy meals like this don’t come around every day,” you said. “Take it slow, no one can kick you out of here to work anyway. Seems they’re too afraid of us.”

He did as you said. Licking off his fingers, he looked around the floor at the glaring stationed guards and occasional inmates. He faced you his eyes glimmered with light like a shooting golden star flying across an icy sky.

“So, how do I get them to trust me?” he said leaning in.

 You leaned back in your seat, your arms crossed and a smile on your face. You were sure now, that feeling in your stomach was hope.

remember that it's good, clean fun,

“Happy Birthday!” you grinned, setting down a box you had smuggled up from the cafeteria into his room. He raised a brow up at you. It was the 23rd of November, the day he’d decided was his birthday; the same day he was sentenced to Meropide.

“Ah, thank you,” he said politely. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma coming off the box revealing, despite his calm thanks, his eager anticipation for your yearly gift.

Guilt riddled him, as he dropped the gauntlet he had been upgrading, next to the cashflow machine he had found and tinkered back to use. He had wanted to pay you back. Every year, on the day he arrived you came with a box and another ten pieces of meshing gear for his tinkering, and as much as he secretly loved it, he felt like he wasn’t doing enough to pay you back.

It had been six years and yet he hadn’t gotten you a single thing he considered worth the amount of your kindness. Aside from a necklace with a piece of meshing gear that he had forged into a Cerberus insignia. You wore it everywhere. You wore it then, the rustic insignia rested on your chest. He had already put aside the pieces for a matching bracelet, a little trinket from him to you. A subtle hint to show that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet.

He unravelled the box and two tea bags fell out of the wrapping.

You picked them up and shook them before him.

“Tea for the occasion,” you said.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“I fear, you know me too well.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know your favourite colour,” you said, brewing the tea in the teapot he kept on the wonky table.

“I don’t have one.”

Meaning he couldn’t choose one without them all tying to you. Maybe it was the colour of your hair, or eyes, or even the colour of your lips, he’d stare at those often. Too often lately. He was staring now. He looked away.

“Well, I guess I do know everything about you,” you chirped.

He thanked you as you handed him a cup of tea with two sugars just as he liked it. You knew these things. It wasn’t like you had spoken about them.  No, you had been around him so much in the last few years that these things came naturally to you. It was like breathing. You sat beside him on the ground. Your tea warmed your hands.

“What else does the birthday boy want on his birthday?”

He fought back the blush though he was sure the colour still painted his skin.

“Nothing.”

“Come on! There has got to be something?”

Wriothesley shook his head and opened the box.

“Okay then if you insist. Share this box with me?”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to share it with you. Are you really going to deny me on my birthday? Remember, you are the one who asked what I want.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

He broke up the bread inside one of the compartments in the box, the same way he'd watched you do it countless times. You reached in and dipped a large unbroken piece of bread into the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He stared at your hand.

“Open up. Come on, birthday boy, if we are sharing then you’ve got to have the first bite,” you said.

When it became apparent that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he opened his mouth enough for you to slip the bread between his teeth. Both of you without the other's knowledge held your breath when he bit down, and his lips brushed the tips of your fingers.

A shiver ran through your body, one you knew would follow you to bed and into your filthiest dreams.

He pulled back and quickly cleared his throat, as he chewed without tasting.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“It is,” you choked out, though you hadn’t tried it yet.

He didn’t bother to correct you, too lost trying to calm the riot in his chest. When he felt like he had better control of the battle in his chest he picked up a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry sauce and held it toward you. You blinked.

“You should try some too. You know since we are sharing and all.”

You took a bite from the bread letting the flavours wash over you. They too were lost to the way you noticed his eyes watching your lips enclose around the bread. You nodded and covered your mouth as you chewed.

“It is good,” you agreed, with a mouth full of mush.

He nodded and looked away from you, scooping up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. You would have thought he was unaffected until you saw his ears were deep shade of crimson.

Just wholesome delinquent behaviour,

“What’s this about?” You asked as he guided you with his large cold, calloused hands over your eyes. You envied his cryo vision, and his ability to stay cool down in that heat pit. He hid it well, but you knew he had one. You’d seen it one day by accident and not breathed a word about it since. Vision holders were targets down here and the last thing you wanted was to put him in any more danger.

“Patience. Don’t you know all good things come to those who know how to wait,” he said.

 He had dragged you out of the production zone after finishing his work and disappeared off like he usually did only to reappear an hour later with that confident stride he had. You barely ever saw him these days, but when you did it would be like he was still the fresh-faced delinquent but older. You were both older. He guided you into a seat and then removed his hands. You missed the cool touch on your skin. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the poor lighting.

“What is this?” you asked, staring at the giant box in front of you.

You looked up at Wriothesley. It had been twelve years since he came to the fortress and the once soft baby face was gone, lost to the grit of Meropide. Wriothesley commanded the trust and respect of everyone around him much to the administrator’s dismay. When you were working away in the production zone, to he would be off swaying the inmates and the guards, working his natural charisma on those around him.

“What happened?” You asked reaching up and grazing his split lip with your finger. He caught your wrist and dipped his head out of the way flashing you a half smile. He had grown even taller over the years and now you had to reach up to touch him. He glanced at the ring on your finger, and you snatched your hand away, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I won some more coupons,” he said.

In reality, he had scrapped up the coupons that he’d hidden away in the case of a rainy day and used them to buy you the meal. A week earlier he had lost all his accumulated credit coupons in a single night to the Fortress’s administrator.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Is that so?” he sassed. “I suppose I should write a will.”

Your expression darkened.

“Kidding, of course,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I went to Sigewinne,” he assured you. “She said I would be fine as long I rested.”

“Good,” you said.

You turned back to the box.

Metal screeched on the floor as Wriothesley pulled his chair closer directly across from you. The place was unusually empty—only a few guards manned the area, but no other inmates could be spotted on the floor.

“So, what is this?” You could smell the faint fragrance of something familiar. Something you hadn’t smelt in years.

“Open it,” he said and gestured with his chin to the box.

You gave him a cautious look and lifted the lid. Inside sat four rolls of bread and two bowls worth of curry. Your heart fluttered. When you looked up at him, he was already watching you; his icy eyes shining like stars. You didn’t want to think anything of it… to hope. Hope was stolen from you. Hope led to you becoming trapped in a loveless engagement with one of the crooked guards.

“You really did it?” you said and ached a little inside.

This was supposed to be a happy moment but all you wanted to do was weep bitter water.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his toned scarred arms over his chest. He looked so broad and solid; all that boxing had morphed his physique into something godly.  “I told you I would pay you back.”

“That was twelve years ago, and this is more than triple what I gave you.”

“I added the interest,” he said.

“Why now?”

He looked down at your ringed finger again and frowned. His brows drew together in the way they did when he was annoyed or thinking more than he was going to let you in on.

“I’m going to fight the administrator,” he said bluntly.

You paused mid-snap of your bread.

“You’re going to fight the administrator?” you repeated, unsure of whether you heard him correctly. “Your sentence is up. Why would you do that? You’re going to die.”

He shrugged.

“I refuse to watch people suffer under the crooked ruling of a tyrant,” he said and eyed your ring again. Your finger felt like it was on fire; you dipped a bit of bread in the curry and handed it to him. He waved it away.

“Why are you like this?” you said, and dropping the piece of bread into the curry, you watched it drown and disappear into the thick liquid. “Is it not enough that you’ll be free?”

You blinked back tears, your hands clenched on your thighs. You had watched nearly all of his fights and every single time your heart was in your throat. Every time he bled, every time he shook hands with his opponent; every time the ringleader held up his beaten-up arm to declare his victory. You hated it. You hated all of it.

He said your name with a tenderness he reserved only for you. A tenderness you didn’t want to hear. A tenderness you blocked out with everything in your soul.

“Is it so strange that I would want to fight for those whom I promised a better life out of genuine care?”

“Why did you do that?” you yelled, your voice came out harsher than you intended but it was too late to take it back. That was the thing about words, they could never be unspoken. He cleared his throat.

“As I recall, I didn’t come here to live under the thumb of another driver, and I thought you would understand that more than anyone else, but I see now that I was wrong and clearly you have been broken down after all.”

You bit down hard on your lips, and your jaw clenched so tight that you were sure you would crunch a tooth.

“Ric���Wriothesley. That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“Indeed, it’s not but it’s the truth.” He glanced away for a second. “Look, I am in love with you, and I have been for the last twelve years. I can’t simply watch you be with someone you hate just to get a sentence lowered that you still won’t tell me about. I could have helped you. I am helping you. I’m helping everyone,” he pushed his chair back and stood.

“…What?”

“I’m fighting tomorrow. Show up, if you have some time, of course; or don’t, but I’ll be looking out for you. You can find me in my dorm before then.”

You fought back the urge to chase after him, to slap him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to hold him so tightly and cry the way you haven’t been able to since the day you were convicted. Instead, you didn’t. You sat in silence and ate the bread and curry watching your heart walk away from you.

Oh, remember your safe word,

His dorm room was across from yours. It was sparse like everything else in the underwater fortress. A pillow and scatty blanket lay atop a barely functioning mattress in a corner. Wriothesley sat at the small table barely standing on its uneven legs. A tiny pot brewed a herbal smelling tea, and two teacups sat in front of him.

“You came,” he said barely above a whisper. His confidence was a quiet one.

“You love me.”

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesticulating to the second cup in front of the spare chair.

You had been in here countless times; shared many cups of tea with him; helped pierce his ears and manage his wounds; watched him shadowbox the air as you sat crossed-legged on his bed; you had wondered what life would be like if Meropide was a better place; you had wondered if the people you left behind missed you as you laid next to each other on his floor staring at the giant fan on the ceiling. Not that either of you had anyone but each other. Wriothesley had said his siblings were strangers to him, and he was probably a ghost they would never want to see again. An unfortunate reminder of something they’d all rather forget, but he never forgot. He refused to. He lived his truth.

 Every time he told you about his past you worried about how his view would change if you if knew your truth. However, Wriothesley never pressed too hard, never touched buttons he knew you didn’t want to be touched. Instead, he watched and observed, and took in all that you were willing to give him, just to see a glimmer behind the cracks of your mask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

“Please.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.” he filled your cup.

You took your seat and shifted around, unable to find comfort despite it being your usual chair. Feelings always made things feel different—uncomfortable. You knew this. Yet you still felt the discomfort, nonetheless.

“How did you know I would come?”

“I didn’t but I hoped and thankfully you didn’t disappoint, but you never do,” he said, filling his cup.

“No need to be modest with me, Wriothesley.”

“I am anything but modest with you,” he said your name softly.

You gulped. Wriothesley wasn’t one to mince his words, though tact was his favourite game.

“You must have heard about it already?” you brought the teacup to your lips taking a sip of the liquid. Credit coupons bought anything in this fortress, even the finest tea. “It’s all people can talk about when it comes to me.”

His expression darkened.

It was only a matter of time.

“You do, and yet you still love me?” you asked.

“I recall someone once telling me that we all are crooks and criminals down here but that didn’t mean we were all bad,” he recounted the words you had said to him when he arrived nearly verbatim. He leaned onto the table, and it shook on its uneven legs from the added weight. “Besides, I like hearing stories from their source.”

“Then ask.”

“What got you incarcerated?”

You took a deep breath. What did you have to lose? He had heard worse rumours.

For some reason, you cared about what he thought of you. You knew that feelings were fickle things, and yet, you cared that he loved you. You loved him too.

“Mariticide,” you said cooly, breaking the ice.

“But you were—“

“A child, I know.”

“I was illegally married off when I was eight years old to a man, twenty years my senior.”

Wriothesley remained neutral, you took it as your sign to keep going.

“He didn’t do anything to me until my twelfth birthday and then it started. At first, it was just touching and then it got worse. He was an influential Fontaine nobleman. One of the maids tried to help me report him but it didn’t work. So, one night when he came to my room, I had hidden a butter knife under my pillow. I castrated him and ran away, fleeing Fontaine. I wandered through Sumeru and then to Monstadt but even the city of freedom couldn’t protect me. So, I kept moving. It was when I was on my way through Liyue that the authorities caught up to me. The maid who had tried to help me was sleeping with the man and hence reported me. The hearing was quick, and I was put away fast. No one wanted to consider the implications of a thirteen-year-old being married to a thirty-three-year-old whom they all dined with. I heard he died a few years ago but my sentence keeps getting extended every time it gets close to the date of my term. I suspect it’s the maid. I was supposed to be here for eight years and well, I am still here. That’s why I must marry that Guard.” You took a long sip from your tea and then placed the cup down. “I’m damaged goods,” you said.

Wriothesley remained silent. He looked to be thinking of something and you had never seen his expression so dark.

“You’re not damaged,” he said, “and he’s lucky he lived after that.”

You smiled. It was a bitter smile; one filled with more exhaustion than remorse.

“Luck favours the rich.”

“If a man will not work, he shall not eat,” Wriothesley said, reciting the famous lines that painted the walls of Meropide.

You raised your teacup at him before taking another sip.

“Jokes aside, thank you for telling me,” he said.

He stood up and you feared he was going to ask you to leave. You wouldn’t be sad, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself, but the sinking feeling came all the same.

He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Your brows furrowed before you hesitantly took it. He pulled you up to your feet. His cold hand intertwined with yours.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

He’d never asked this before. Did you look like you needed a hug? Because you wanted one.

“Please,” you choked out.

You would never have described Wriothesley as warm, but when he held you in his arms and you heard his heart racing you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly warm. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Then another, and another, and another until you were sobbing into his shabby inmate shirt.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know.”

You’d been holding onto these feelings for so long. Letting them fester inside you like a sickness. No one had ever stopped to hear your side of the story and you thought you were okay with that. You thought if they stayed away from you then you could pretend to be like every other inmate brought in for stealing a slice of cake meant for Lady Furina. You thought you could hide your truth, but behind every fake smile, you wore it on yourself like a body of armor.

His shirt crumpled in your hands. He swayed from side to side and traced tiny circles on your back with his thumb.

“You did what you had to do. If he was alive, I’d kill him,” he said.

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. “Please don’t fight tomorrow.”

He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away your tears. He decided then that he hated your tears, and he would do anything to see to it that you didn’t feel that way again.

 However, he hated the idea of you living with this pain more. He hated seeing that diamond on the finger where his should be. He hated it even more that you knew that he hated it before he had admitted his feelings for you. If his resolve hadn’t been solidified before now it would be completely. He would free you, and if you decided you wanted to be with him once you sprouted your wings, then he would accept you with open arms. He wouldn’t put you in another cage. He’d hate to see your heart break because to him you were his heart.

Wriothesley’s attention dropped to your lips; they were wet with your tears. He leaned down and brushed his lips to the corner feeling your sadness.

You turned your head at the last moment and captured his lips.

He froze.

You gripped his shirt tighter and reached up on the tips of your toes pressing your mouth further into his; willing him to reciprocate. Your first kiss with Wriothesley tasted like bitter water. It was soft and desperate. It knew what it was without the need for words or discussion.

His chest heaved as he pulled away.

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

“I won’t…” 

He wouldn’t—at least not tonight. Although, he didn’t know whether it was day or night outside of Meropide. The underworld was a different world entirely. It never truly slept. It didn’t adhere to the rules of the sun or the moon. It was filled with endless possibilities. Possibilities that could alter both of your existences and if he couldn’t free you above ground, he knew sure as hell would free you below. Although, one night of keeping you safe in his arms couldn’t hurt.

You sat down on his mattress. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, then again it had been twelve years.

He recalled your soot-covered face, and dull eyes when you had greeted him, the day he arrived at Meropide. The day he had begun his new life; his birthday. Although the circumstances weren’t great, he knew from the moment you said, ‘Welcome to hell,’ that he would love you.

He sat beside you.

“Tell me what you want?” he said, earnestly.

You leaned into him.

“I want you to be yours.”

It was true. You wanted him. Engagement be damned. Even if it was just one night, you wanted something for you. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was asking for too much, but you didn’t care. You had spent too long denying yourself the things you want to maintain a peace no one else upheld.

Wriothesley gripped your wrist and groaned what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be too sure.

“Give me a word,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.

“I am not fragile.”

Though in front of him, you were.

“I know you are not. Give me a word so I know to stop if it gets too much for you.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours.

“Time,” you breathed.

That’s what you wanted—time. Time to love him, time to live, time to take back all the things you regretted and start again. Time to meet him before you both became who you were.

“Okay,” he said, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Only tonight. He reminded himself.

He could promise you that for certain. He couldn’t promise tomorrow, not because he was a pessimist but because he knew tomorrow was never certain. He had you now. He would make sure he had you forever but now would have to be enough. He would make it enough.

“Yours. Completely,” you said.

Another tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled off his shirt. 

Your mouth merged with his, your tongue slipping into his open mouth tangling, exploring searching. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes closing despite the desire to see every expression on your face.

You broke the kiss and leaned back pulling off your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts.

“Just for me,” he whispered, taking them into his hands and kneading them slowly.

He traced kisses down your neck, wishing to mark you, to lay his claim to you. He wouldn’t however, not yet…not tonight.

You fiddled with the string to his bottoms, untangling it and reaching in to feel his erection. He groaned against your neck unafraid to let you know how good it felt. You grasped his cock. It was thick, thicker than you expected, and so hard.  You needed both hands to grip him properly.

“Take off that fucking ring,” he hissed upon feeling it on his skin. You did, taking off the ring and dropping it with your shirt on the floor. You gripped his cock again, your hands feeling so much lighter without the mental weight of the ring.

“Harder,” he growled as you stroked him.

You tightened your grip watching as the crease between his brows grew. He rolled his hips into your hand.

“Oh, that’s it,” he panted.

You bit your lip and focused on the reddened tip.

Your thumb brushed the crown wiping away the drops of precum. He jolted, his jaw unhinging, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You froze and released his cock. He opened his eyes, worried, only to see you on your knees between his legs.

He opened his legs wider and slid closer to the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and gripped it in his hand as he used the other to keep him up on the bed.

“Go on,” he said. “Show me how much you want me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Gripping, his cock you gave the tip a lick listening to his pleased grunts. Slowly you took him into your mouth, enjoying the sensation of his hand gripping your hair.

“Good girl, taking me so well.”

You were soaked just from listening to his praise. You slipped a hand into your underwear and began rubbing your clit.

His breath quickened, and his mouth felt incredibly dry from his inability to close it. His hips jerked, as you took him deeper. He heard you gag as he felt your throat quiver around his cock. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath before he thrust back into your throat. Your eyes rolled and drove a finger into yourself.

You bobbed your head keeping up with the brutal pace he was setting. You loved hearing his grunts and groans; you loved feeling his cock twitch and his pace stagger as he got closer. Despite how hard it was, you looked up at him. His mouth was agape, his eyes barely open. You released him just when you knew he was going to cum.

Wriothesley opened his eyes to see you waiting, mouth open, your mouth and chin dripping with saliva. You looked glorious.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed and released your hair, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it until the first spray of cum splattered your lips. “So perfect, with such a pretty mouth.”

You licked your lips and opened your mouth again, leaning closer till the tip rested against your tongue.

Wriothesley felt like he was in a dream or heaven or both.

“Swallow it all,” he panted as he pumped the rest onto your tongue.

You did so, licking your lips and opening your mouth to prove it.

At the sight of your flushed face, your blown lust-filled eyes, and your hand deep in your pants, he found himself hardening again. He had promised tonight, and tonight he was going to have. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

“Get on the bed right now, naked and on your back,” he ordered.

You shimmied off your work pants and your underwear, laying on the bed under his hungry gaze. He stood and stripped the rest of his clothes away before joining you on the bed. It was barely big enough for both of you, but he was going to make it work. He kneeled before your closed legs.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Just good?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.

“Mhm just good,” you responded, reciprocating the expression.

“Oh, we’ll have to fix that,” he said, and scooping under your thighs, he opened your legs and pulled you closer to him.

You giggled at the speed at which he had your legs wrapped around his waist and his hard cock pressing against your soaked folds. He caged you between his arms as he rolled his hips slowly.

“I love you,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you responded.

“I know.”

He kissed you with everything in his soul. At some point, he knew you loved him even if you hadn’t said it till just now. He knew it like how he knew the back of his hand but hearing it made it even better. It made it real.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked hole, pushing in the tip just enough to feel you quiver before pulling out and running it over your pussy again.

“If I fuck you, you’re mine. No one touches what is mine. Do you understand?” He asked

Your heart stuttered.

“I understand.”

“After all, no one will be able to fuck you the way I can. Once I’m inside you unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not stopping until we both see stars,” he said, making sure he looked straight into your eyes as he did.

This wasn’t a game for him, he meant every single word and you knew it.

“Wriothesley, there will never be anyone like you.”

He groaned and slid in. Your back arched at the sheer size of his cock stretching you beyond your limits. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. “Hold onto me.”

He continued to slowly push in bringing his knees closer giving him the right angle to get in as deep as possible. He gasped upon seeing himself completely disappear inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, and dragged him down gripping his back, locking you into a mating press.

He waited till the need for release subsided before he began to move. The shitty bedframe, not built for the purpose it was being used for, squeaked, and hit against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and stifled cries joined the air disturbing whatever sorry soul had the misfortune of being on the other side of the wall. Neither of you cared at that moment. Within minutes you had already come twice.

Your chest heaved, and Wriothesley cupped them leaving bites all over your breasts, he avoided any place people would be able to see but needed to mark you somewhere. He moved back up to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said quietly.

You slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and began to rub your clit. Wriothesley leaned back till he was kneeling. Gripping your waist, he continued to fuck you watching with hawk-like focus the way your fingers played with your clit. It was like you were under display, laid out for him to observe and study, and you were.

“So, that’s how you like it?” he said, feeling your walls clench around him for the third time that night.

You whimpered in response, your words had long since failed you. You began to slow as your hand grew tired and your body became closer to a collection of jolting nerves than functioning limbs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You can give me two more, right?” he said.

You moaned as he replaced your hand continuing to rub your clit just as vigorously as you had started.

“Wriothesley,” you cried,

“Ssh, you’ve got this. Let go. Be a good girl and give me two more,” he urged you on.

You bit your lip and threw your head back letting out another cry which he swallowed eagerly. Your walls clenched again, and your body began to show the signs of a squirt. You sprayed, your legs shaking, your toes curling.

“Shit, you’re incredible. One more,” he captured your lips. “You’ve done so good. Just give me one more, my love,” he said against them.

One more and he would be satisfied. One more and he could guarantee that he would have enough resolve to follow through with his plans. Just one more.

You shivered again and bit down on his bottom lip as your final climax washed over you barely a minute later. He growled at the pain, tugging his lip from your mouth, and kissing you properly.

“Well done,” he said but continued thrusting at the same brutal pace. “I’m nearly there.”

You used what little strength you had to keep him inside. He said your name for what was the thousandth time that night.

“Not tonight,” he panted, smiling against your lips. “Trust me, I want to. I do, but not tonight.”

He pulled out and kissed you softly, stroking himself until his release painted your stomach. He kissed your forehead and rolled off you to not squash you under his weight.

You turned onto your side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around you and entangled your limbs. You faced each other on the damp sheets.

It felt like time stopped. Everything melted away, you didn’t know whether it had been forty or four hours, and you didn’t care. You felt sticky and wet, the only thing cooling you down was the natural coolness of his skin on yours. Sleep drifted over you like a blanket not soon after. You tried to fight it off, wishing to talk to him longer; to try and convince him against fighting the administrator; to find a way with you because as long as you had each other you knew everything would be okay…

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said quietly as if he had read your mind, sending you off to sleep. “It’s all going to be okay.”

When you woke the next morning, well when the sound of the guards woke you from your sex-induced coma, Wriothesley was gone.

Remember your safeword.

You woke to cool scarred arms wrapped securely around your waist. Wriothesley’s head rested on your breasts. Flecks of grey mixed seamlessly into the stream of black hair reminded you that you were no longer in the past. You shifted slightly to free an arm. He grumbled something and nuzzled his head further into your breasts, securing his arms tighter around you as if afraid you were going to disappear. It was a habit he had developed over the years, an incessant need to hold onto you when he slept. You didn’t mind it too much, you liked being cold when you went to bed; it helped you sleep better.

“Wriothesley,” you whispered and ran a hand through his hair. You laid a peck on his forehead, and he stirred.

“Is it morning already?” he grumbled, though his eyes remained closed.

He had been awake for as long as you had been lost in your thoughts, silently listening to the sound of your pounding heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts ailed you on nights like these.

You admired the thick dark lashes casting shadows over his face.

“No, I just can’t sleep,” you said.

You knew his skin like the back of your hand. The scar under his eye, the scar on his neck that led down to the center of his breastplate and stopped on his sternum. The ones wrapped around his arms, the ones that scattered his waist and stomach, the ones on his thighs; even the small faint one on his calf from when he fell over as a kid. He told you that was when he knew his skin was going to be littered with scars. Wriothesley scarred easily and he scarred badly. However, despite their jagged appearances, none of them were too hideous for you to bear. You didn’t like them, but you loved Wriothesley, and as they were as a part of him as any other part of him, you learnt to love them too. They represented how many battles he had won. They represented every promise kept.

You lifted his head up and kissed the scar on his face, the one right under his eye.

You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh. His pupils were blown when he finally opened his eyes.

He loved you so much it hurt. Yes, physically but also mentally. He loved how you accepted him, he loved how you chose him, and he loved how you chose you too. Most of all he loved how you looked when you teased him, so raw, so ripe, so ready to dismantle you completely.

“Oh, I can think of ways to help with that,” he murmured.

“I don’t know if I have the stamina, your grace,” you teased.

He let out a guttural noise.

He nibbled and sucked on your nipple, messaging your other breast in his cold, rough hands. Your breath staggered as you gave in to his touch. The sound went straight to his cock. He had fucked you into the sheets earlier that night, till you were blubbering and couldn’t remember your own name. Still, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; he would never get enough of you. Despite your fear that one day he would disappear, he never would. It was Wriothesley who worried that one day you would grow tired of his incessant need to be near you; to have you, to consume you. So, he savoured every squirm, every shiver, every breathy gasp of his name that you would spare him, terrified that they’d be his last.

“Ah, well it’s a good thing that I have enough stamina for the both of us,” he said switching his attention from one boob to the other. The earlier hickeys had already darkened on your skin. “Think you can cum again?”

He would kiss each one later wishing for them to last forever.

“You’re insatiable,” you blushed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have my favourite meal right where I want her,” he said and began to trail his tongue down your stomach towards your sensitive clit. He wanted you on his tongue, in his senses… everywhere.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. It was what he always did before you both did anything sexual beyond intimate fondling and brisk kisses.

“Time,” you said.

“Good girl.” He half grinned.

He continued teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, absorbing every twitch and shake of your body.

“Wriothesley,” you spluttered. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he said.

He slipped his tongue into you, circling, lapping, like a man possessed he devoured you. His nose brushed against your skin. It was knowing his eyes were on you the entire time that made everything feel ten times more stimulating. You let out a quiet gasp and gripped his hair.

“You’re so good for me.” He gave you a broad lick. “So perfect.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them inside you and scissoring them open to stretch you out not that you needed much with how well he had fucked you before. Still, it was the thought of giving you pleasure that spurred him on.

“Wriothesley,” you said.

He hummed to show you he was listening, the vibration made you quiver.

“I want your cuffs.”

He paused and pulled away, perking up. He secretly loved it when you surprised him.

“Oh? What for?”

You smiled and gestured for his cuffs. He scrambled off the queen-sized bed and walked butt naked to where he left his cuffs. You admired his ass from the bed. He had a great ass, he knew it too, it was why he wore his jacket around Meropide. His nickname Ricecake had gotten around the Fortress years ago and whilst it was okay when he was a convict, he didn’t need that level of familiarity as the Duke. Besides, you were the only one he wanted observing his ass.

He climbed back onto the bed and handed them to you, the spiked metal looked so good in your hands. His eyes flickered to the rings on your ring finger—his rings. The ones he gave you when he officially proposed.

He never ended up fighting that day due to the administrator’s sudden disappearance.

He recalled how you had run around Meropide searching for him, your hair a mess, the beginnings of one of the love bites he had left dauntingly close to view, poking out of one of his shirts that you had thrown on instead of your own. He recalled how you had slammed open the door to the administrator’s office, breathless, beautiful, with your eyes full of tears to him sitting behind the desk organising the abandoned files. He recalled how he claimed you again there, in that office over and over and over again. The other man’s ring was long gone somewhere down the many drains of Meropide, and your sentence cleared not long after. There were perks to becoming the administrator of the fortress of Meropide. Perks that had the maid of that man who hurt you disappear to a place only known by Celestia, the Archons, Navia, and Wriothesley. Neuvillette knew too but unless there was a trial, he would keep his nose out of it.

You knelt on the bed swinging the cuffs on your fingers.

“Where have you gone?” you cooed bringing him back to reality.

“Mm, nowhere, just admiring the view,” he said coolly.

You shook your head and pushed him to lay back against the pillows.

“You’re working too hard, your grace. I can fix that,” you said and straddled him.

Reaching above him, you cuffed his arms to the bed frame.

He cocked a brow and playfully tugged against the restraints.

“Ah, I hope so,” he said.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, smirking.

His cock twitched at the memory of your first time together.

“Remember the safeword?” you asked.

Seeing you sat on him, your eyes filled with life, he couldn’t care less that you didn’t remember your past before Meropide. He didn’t care that you didn’t recall how he was the boy you gave bread to once when you spotted him wandering away from his home. How you had given him, a complete stranger what looked like your last piece of food because he was sitting alone. He didn’t care if all you remembered was your last two and a half decades together… because you were here now with him. You chose him just as he chose you.

“Time," he responded.

masterlist

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[ghostlynighty]

Request:

Hear me out, Arlecchino x Fem!Reader who is a polyglot. Fem!Reader having a variety of terms of endearment for Arlecchino in each different languages such as 애인 (ae-in) , ma chérie, and iubirea mea.

— ♣️ anon

Arlecchino with a polygot fem!reader.

pairings : arlecchino x fem reader

requested : uh huh

warning(s) :

polygot is a person or a place that speaks multiple languages.

i hope this is okay, i tried my best despite not feeling very well. hope you like it! oh and is that my very first anon i see?

Ever since you were young, you’ve always wanted to explore the nations of Teyvat and when you reached the age of when you were able to do it, you became a travelling expert. Moving from one nation to another, only staying in a nation for a few months to a year before travelling to the next one. At this point in your life, you’ve already visited and stayed in all of the seven nations. Inazuma was your recent one, only being able to visit when the electro nation opened its borders. After that, you would randomly go to a nation where you feel like it. Because of this, you have learned all of the languages from all these nations, you can even say that you are fluent in most of them.

This kind of lifestyle has its own ups and downs. It was fun to see all of what these nations could offer, the beautiful sceneries to the amazing foods, there was a lot to look out for and come back to. Though, this lifestyle also makes you not have any lasting relationships. You have flirted here and there but not really committing, not wanting to hurt anyone and yourself. When you visited Fontaine though, it looks like there was a reason there for you to stay. Someone for you to stay.

Arlecchino, The Knave.

It came as a shock to you that Arlecchino flirted with you when you two first met. She is a harbringer after all, why would someone like her be interested in a traveller like you?

One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had decided to live in Fontaine and stay with your now lover there. When Arlecchino first met you, she was intrigued. A traveller that doesn't stay dormant? She immediately became infatuated with you. When you told her about your lifestyle, she was fine with it. Arlecchino also leaves Fontaine to go back to Shneznaya from time to time, she wasn’t bothered about it. Arlecchino did not force you to stay in Fontaine, so she was shocked to hear you have decided to stay and live with her.

Your relationship with the Knave was doing pretty good despite what others think. She might be intimidating to others but to you, she was just your Arlecchino. Your Arle, your mon cherie, your liebling, your baobei, your suki and yeah…that was one thing that Arlecchino noticed.

You have a lot of pet names for Arlecchino in different languages. It doesn’t bother her, it makes her guess on what she will hear next. She knew that this was normal, visiting and staying from nations to nations, you have to at least know how to converse properly in their languages. It's a little confusing though, cause sometimes you would talk to her or the children normally but then it would become a jumbled mess of different languages. Due to this, the children of the house of the hearth were also learning these languages, even if it's just a few keywords.

“Baobei, are you not tired?” Arlecchino heard you come into her office where she was doing some paper works. Due to being a harbringer, Arlecchino doesn't really have a lot of free time, most of her time would always go to her duties. She is always tired but one word from you and that one random pet name she’ll get, she will feel so much better.

“How about I make some food then we’ll eat them together, okay suki?” Arlecchino chuckled, nodding her head at you as she went back to her work.

To be honest, at first Arlecchino were embarrassed with these petnames, it's not that she didn’t like it, it's just that she’s a fatui harbringer, a woman of power and just because she loves and adores you, she’s letting you call her with all these cute names?

Yes, yes she will.

[bubbleddisasters]

Been thinking about the Traveler being reminded of Inazumas War during Natlan, and an Open Arms Reprise I saw/Heard that sparked an idea about Teppei and Vichamas deaths, so i’m about to make it everyone else’s problem.

Spoilers, obviously

————-

With every scrape of blood off the sole of her once gleaming white boots, the sound of every solider and innocent lost being counted in the rest area, she was reminded of flashing lightning.

Of Gorou returning from unsuccessful search and rescues. Of Kokomis deep eye bags, Of….him. He who never got to try on his uniform.

A dash of moonlight reflected on Paimons hair, now drained from all the tears she had shed, wrapped in the blondes scarf.

She had really been with her through everything. The one constant Lumine could always count on.

“Captain?”

The once familiar voice had the outlander turning immediately.

“Teppei?”

Smiling in his Watasumi uniform, the apparition waved happily . As if he had never died. The friendship bracelet made from his first broken dummy still tied neatly as he stood by a crackling blaze.

“Thats me! It’s been awhile, huh? You look pretty tired, you can rest here by my fire, if you want.”

As if in a haze, she moved forward, an in a foolish leap of faith, jumped to hug her fallen friend, silent tears staining his uniform as he returned the embrace.

When she pulled back, the reality came in.

“You’re dead.”

“Yup.”

“Then how..?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, the former soldier looked off to the side.

“Night…uh…Kingdom stuff? I won’t be here for long, but I met this guy in the afterlife, and he mentioned you made it here, so I wanted to check on you! He helped me out.”

“He?”

Another figure fizzled into view. One she had seen only days ago. But this form was mutilated, ripped apart. He couldn’t have….not after..

“Vichama….?”

He didn’t meet her eyes.

“Rifthounds are the worst, aren’t they?”

Prodding the small flame with a stick, the fallen sighed.

“Once this flame goes out, we’ll be gone for good. You can have my stuff if it’s not too destroyed when….if…you get back. I doubt anyone else will want it.”

“The Captain of Swordfish || will definitely make it out! You haven’t seen what she can do! She’s amazing!”

“You’re weirdly positive for someone who died a long and agonizing death, y’know.”

Eyes of gold welled, the onyx haired patting the log next to him.

“You can let it all out while we wait, Captain. The dead tell no tales, right?”

———

And so, Lumine did just that. Told him everything. Sumeru, Fontaine, and what had happened so far in Natlan. Desperately, she didn’t wish for this moment to end. If only she had obtained Pyro from the Statue, she would have made Vichamas Fire burn eternally.

As it began to fade, Teppei rose from his seat, holding out his hand toward her.

“It’s time to keep moving on Captain.”

“…How Teppei?”

Wind was his only response as she took it all in. He was right, and she knew it. As she took his hand, Vichama cut in.

“I….I know you’re probably tired of all this war and bloodshed, but you’ve got the chance to have a life to live. Someone once told me to Keep them in their heart to bring them home.”

“He’s right! And give all the kindness you can, well, if you can.”

Carefully handing Paimon into her arms, the Inazumian smiled weakly.

“Remember how even during the war, our friendship still made us both feel happy and warm? Don’t give up on making friends like me again.”

The Verdette now stood, his ripped canopy outfit getting stuck on a twig for a moment before he was able to respond.

“And I know from..you know..that you probably might feel like we like we blame you for not being able to save us, but we don’t. Atleast I don’t.”

He faded away first, tossing her a dog-tag necklace with a key attached, leaving just Lumine and Teppei, who admired the mountain view, even in the pitch darkness.

“Y’know, life really is amazing. Everyone takes it for granted until they lose it, so…”

Slipping off his identification tag from around his neck, the deceased pressed it into her hand.

“Even after all this, try to greet the world with Open arms, ok? It’s going to be hard, but I think you’re capable of anything, I really do.”

Just like Vichamas, his visage began to fade, ruffling her hair as he disappeared.

“Thanks for everything, Traveler. I couldn’t have asked for a better Captain, or a better friend.”

One final time, he smiled.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

The fire flickered to nothingness as he vanished.

——-

Paimon stirred, yawning as she shifted around in the swaddle Lumine had made with scarf as the outlander began to prepare the hot air balloon.

“Paimon had this dream about Teppei and Vichama, and a huge war in….”

As she floated to oversee the region from above, the cheeriness in her voice all but faded.

“Oh…Guess Paimon wasn’t dreaming about the war then…is…is it really not over?”

“Not yet Paimon. Soon. Open arms.”

“Open arms? Whats that supposed to mean?”

————-

____________

Link to the Open Arms Reprise that gave me this idea!:

Yea thats it.

Enjoy.

[ikemengoessbrrrrr]

TCR X GENSHIN IMPACT AU

Mind you, I have this idea in my head for really long time, so I decided to let it out

For you guys who may not really familiar with Genshin story or lore its alright! Because they don't really have anything to do with main story and all you need to know about them in this au is they life in Fontaine, one of the places in Teyvat.

The Cat Bureau is a service place like in the movie where anyone can come to them if they need help or request. But instead being hidden, the Bureau is pretty easy to find and most people in Fontaine know about them.

EY! Here my design for Haru Yoshioka! Kinda having hard time and mostly dunno what am I doing when drawing her.

Haru is originally from Inazuma (Japan inspired place in Genshin, another place in Teyvat), She's been alone since something happened with her hometown way years ago and been wandered. She moved to Fontaine after she chose to work at Cat Bureau. Haru has Anemo vision and a claymore user. (Which I need to change the design cuz wtf is that)

Baron's design is basically his original design but with improvisation lmao

Like in the movie, he also own the Bureau in this au, the difference is the bureau always respond to his magic and emotions. Baron here is a Yokai who has been lived 300+ (pretty young for immortal being). In the past, he actually had Dendro vision originally but get taken away after massacre he did way years ago. Yeah, he was not a good person, he was a Yokai who choose to make chaos and won't hesitated to kill especially humans, that massacre is end point. As punishment, his vision gets taken away also with his freedom. That was 100+ years ago and now he is getting calmer and better, also he gets another vision (Cyro) for his dedication.

Tho, he still needs supervision until now (Yep, by Toto)

[thatfrenchacademic]

Justice as spectacle in Fontaine, or a too long word vomit from a tired PhD in Law gushing over Genshin 4.0

Alternative title: “Justice must be seen to be done”, a visual playbook by Genshin 4.0

Intro: This is a valid use of a PhD in law, actually.

I made the mistake of playing the 4.0 update of Genshin while I was finalizing my PhD in law and politics, and the result was my brain refuse to think about anything else than judicial performativity and the use judicial spectacle in Fontaine. So time to make good use of 9 years of University by dissecting why I absolutely love how Fontaine’s justice system is presented. It was initially much longer and covering why justice as a spectacle is not necessarily an issue or sign of a disfunctionning legal system,  then what exactly about the Fontainian justice system is actually fucked up, but it got too long so I’m keeping that for the indeterminate future. So the pitch of this thing is: Mihoyo is basically providing us with an animated First Person POV game version of legal ethnographic works on justice and the courthouse, and it is really cool.

And since I am a nerd with both too much time to read and to play, we are making this a proper academic, with literature and all, because listen to me, LEGAL ACADEMICA IS COOL, ACTUALLY, and law and literature at large is a genuine field of study that we, as a society, need to talk about more.

[also there is non-zero chance that I edit this brainrot and submit it for publication at some point]

Warning: I am basing this on 4.0, up to and including Act IV Chapter II (hence no discussion of the prison system) and if Mihoyo thwarts the whole thing with 4.1  [oops I am late so now 4.2, since 4.1 did not thwart it] then let’s do what we do when new results contradict existing theories in academia and just collectively agree to ignore it.

TL;DR: Someone at Mihoyo read Simonett’s 1966 essay on The Trial as One of the Performing Arts [Here, just read it, it is fascinating] and decided to make it everyone’s problem

Part 0: if this was not Tumblr.com I would make a recap explaining broadly what Genshin and Fontaine are but since you are reading this I’m going to assume you already know the context.

Part 1: Ok so how does the Fontanian Justice system work, exactly?

Alright, so each area of Teyvat has 1) one core theme/value and 2)a threat to that core theme/value.

Mondstadt has Freedom and people living in fear of a dragon.

Liyue has Contracts/order and the pandemonium of having Rex Lapis killed.

Inazuma has Eternity and being virtually frozen in time.

Sumeru has Knowledge and being entirely manipulated by the Akademia.

Fontaine has Justice and… Justice being parodied into a spectacle?

WRONG.

Because the spectacle of justice, especially the way it is done in Fontaine, is not antithetic to Justice itself. Spectacle is part and parcel of Justice and of any courthouse. Sure, all the dials are turned to 11 and y’know, it is legit called an Opera, but that is more the writers being a bit on the nose and adding drama for the player. The spectacle of Justice, itself, is not that far off from reality. And, hot take but bear with me: it is not (necessarily) a problem.

Ok, let’s dive into what we know of the justice system in Fontaine.

Broadly speaking, we have seen the criminal justice system, and it is an accusatorial, or adversarial model. It’s the US-style criminal procedure: you have a defendant trying to prove that they didn’t do it your honor, and a prosecutor proving that they totally did it your honor. To avoid this becoming a fistfight, you have a strict procedure to follow outside but especially inside the Court, and in the end, a neutral third party decides on the outcome or the trial.

Ok, now let’s zoom on a few things, and why the theatrics of them are actually very common.

Furina, our cringefail darling, is the prosecutor. And they get a lot of stuff right regarding the role of the prosecutor! She decides whether or not to prosecute, based on the information that she has, and whether she likes her odds or not. Fittingly since she is the Archon, the prosecutor in a trial represents the State, the interest of the State (the judge ! does ! not!). It makes sense that Furina, the ruler (theoretically) would be prosecutor and not judge. Moreover, and as we see plenty of times during the trials, Prosecutor Furina is not concerned with the victim, and not even necessarily with the truth; the prosecutor wants to know how likely they are to obtain a conviction in the end. Her job is to be convincing enough to establish a legal truth.

Neuvillette, for his part, sometimes look terribly powerless… but friends, that is what a Judge sitting during a criminal case often is. The first part of his job is to find sufficient information for the prosecution to decide whether or not to prosecute; he is supposed to be entirely neutral at this stage. He kickstarted the investigation straight after the death of Cowell, and was also the one starting investigation on Vaughn right after Lyney is proved innocent. He gathers enough evidence, hands them over to Furina and asks “So? Are you game or do you want to leave that alone?”

And once the prosecutor has decided to move forward with prosecuting, his job is to make the procedure move along, take some decisions based on new information, ensure all respect the rules (hence Childe’s immediate smackdown when he starts to act out a bit too much at the end. My man is here to make sure the rules are enforced and that also applies to Snezhnayan gremlins). In the liminal space of the courthouse, he is the supreme authority… over the procedure. He can tell anyone, including Furina, to stfu k thx. He starts and stops the trial. He allows witnesses to be heard or not.

And the last party involved at this point is the defense, usually the Traveler and any adorable twink we befriended that day [good for you, Traveler, good for you]. They present evidence, they have to be convincing, it’s basically Ace Attorney, we know that part.

Part 2: Mihoyo makes it clear that we are all actors in the Courtroom

Ok, first moment of pause.

Even though these are the most basic parts of a criminal trial, they are ALREADY steeped in drama and theatrics, both IRL and in Fontaine.

First off, Furina plays a prosecutor, Neuvillette plays a judge and the Traveller plays the lawyer.

No but really: they play their role in the Courthouse.

The game painstakingly presents Furina for the first time not as a prosecutor in a courthouse but as a cringefail princess. When we see her initially welcoming the Traveller, going “Fight Me” at them in the streets of Fontaine, she is not a prosecutor, she is just Furina the cringefail princess.  We meet Furina as Furina, and later on only, we see her with her Prosecutor face. Furina is not a prosecutor, outside of the Courthouse.

I don’t even have to explain how much Traveler plays lawyer. We are, and I cannot stress it enough, NOT lawyers (yes, even you who developed an unhealthy obsession with Ace Attorney before Genshin). The developers even took the time to develop an entire new gameplay to really, really highlight that is a behavior that the Traveler can only have in the Courthouse. Traveler is not a lawyer outside of the courthouse.

Neuvillette is a bit of a special case. We do meet him for the first time in the Courthouse, as a Judge. But once again, the moment we meet him outside of the courthouse, he is much more approachable, definitely not the same persona as when he bitchslapped my problematic Harbinger into the Meropides prison [we are so going to write something about the Meropides prison once I have played enough 4.1 my friends – update post 4.1: ok Mihoyo that was weak commentary on the privatization of prison and prison labour but I’ll take it]. Neuvillette is probably the one that is the most associated with his courthouse persona, but there is still this gap between Neuvillette-Judge and Neuvillette-reflecting-in-the-end-of-Chapter-II.

So everyone is just themselves in their daily life, but there is something about a Courthouse that turns people into their judicial role. That’s what we call the liminality of the courthouse (Hadar, 1999). And it exists IRL, in a way shockingly close to what we see in the Opera Epiclese.

Magistrates, whether prosecutors or judges, do not act in their own names, they have a role to play. Someone woke up that morning, had breakfast, swore at the neighbour who did not park properly again, spilled some coffee on their documents again ffs, stumbled a bit on the little steps leading to the courthouse, and then, they put on their costume and started to play the role of the judge. As someone who has been in what can only be referred to as “backstage”  of a court , and entered the courthouse with the magistrates, I cannot stress enough how drastic the shift in person is the moment a magistrate steps into the space of the trial room.  

From there on, they are a Role. Furina, like any prosecutor, is not a prosecutor, until they are The Prosecutor, and then they are not themselves anymore, in the enclosed space of the courthouse. Have you ever seen a lawyer talk in their daily life the way to talk in a courthouse? No. Someone is just some person, until their put on the robe and their Lawyer Face and start their Lawyer Movement and Lawyer Tone. Traveler cannot go all OBJECTION when they have a disagreement with a random shopkeeper in Teyvat. The game doesn’t even give you the option – because you are not lawyer, unless you are in the court. None actually plays a lawyer, unless they are in the courthouse.

And an adversarial model encourages this. You have character, but for it to be a play, or an opera, you need a narrative (murder, ok, that will kickstart a narrative) and you need dramatic tension. Drama is created by the opposition of two characters having opposite goals, confronting each other. Simonett, a former Minessotta Supreme Court Judge, has a fascinating article called “The Trial as One of the Performing Art”, which really ecapsulates how an adversarial system is built on this drama:

‘The trial has a protagonist, and antagnonist, a proscenium and an audience, a story to be told and a problem to be resolved, all usually in three acts”.

More than an inquisitory model (hello, fellow continental Europeans), parties are encouraged to bounce off each other, take initiative, undermine and interact with each other. US courthouse TV shows loooove that, and Genshin absolutely leaned into that. The potential for drama was so strong and intrinsic to the story that For the first time, we got to play a character that was not even with the traveler: Traveler was off investigating, and we played Navia in the courthouse, because the sheer drama of being in the courthouse is too good for the game to pass.

Do you see it yet? Here is more. A judicial role is a role. IRL, a lot of it is emphasized by the robes -the - sometimes complete with wigs and accessories- that judges and magistrates must wear before entering the space of the courthouse. You put them on like you put on a costume -defendant, prosecution, judge and even audience alike (Cabatingan, 2018), there is a ritual of preparing for the performance of a trial the way you prepare for a play. Genshin characters cannot change their clothes [give us a proper fancy-af-judge-robe for Neuvilette Mihoyo you COWARDS], so the game does all it can to realllllyy show you a separation between the judicial role and the actor playing I in the courthouse.

Part 3: Game designers said yes this an Opera and a Courthouse because these are the same thing and they are right

[The urge to include Foucault in this section, but I do not have Discipline and Punish with me rn, rip]

Ok, ok, why not. But what about the stuff that is not in your random courthouse, like a damn AUDIENCE and the fact that it takes place in an actual OPERA ?

Aight, we gotta dive a bit deeper into two things: the role of audience in the judicial spectacular, and studies on legal architecture/judicial space. I told you legal research was cool.

Let’s start with the most obvious one: architecture.

The architecture of Courthouse is actually really important for the delivery of justice. The building embodies the task itself, and targets evert single person that interacts with the building in any way? It matters specifically because we take it for granted, that this this is just a building, that there cannot be more to it. Or: “Law in its everydayness, banks on the usage of visual means of representation, for they seem to lack artifice, and thus enjoy high persuasiveness” (Kumar, 2017, also this is a study on the architecture of the Indian Supreme court and it is so good). But thi is, of course, on purpose.

My friends, your local courthouse looks like an opera. Recently, I went to a play which was entirely a trial, and they barely had to do anything to set-up the scene because… the opera looks like a courthouse, and vice versa. Fontaine’s Opera Epiclese is this on steroid, and also actually used for entertainment like the magic shows, but its architecture and structure are so close to a proper courthouse that once you see it you cannot unsee it. Not matter how different they might look from each other, all, ALL courtroom have the same setup:

Judges on an elevated position compared to all other parties : Neuvillette absolutely kills it here [my man is placed so high up I was close to writing something about the religiosity of justice.]

Prosecution and accused on two opposite sides, virtually separated by the judge, even putting the defendant in their own little liminal space in the liminal space (Zoettl, 2016, Mulcahy, 2007)

Audience space and trial space clearly separated, with interdiction for the audience to enter the trial space

Audience space allowing to clearly see all angles of the trial space

The architecture of courthouse is strikingly similar to that of an opera’s, both in its spatial organization and its grandiose. The entire building is an opera, not just the ground of the stage. You even have a lobby, the space right in the Opera but not the courtroom, which is very similar to the space where people mingle during the interlude at the Opera – the social settings were many legal negotiations happen (Hansen, 2008)

[Fun fact: I am pretty sure the design of the audience space of the Opera Epiclese was inspired by two Parisian Opera houses: the Théâtre de la Comédie Française et the Théâtre du Châtelet. The stage itself is almost more church-like ; I am curious if anyone knows what the inspiration for the “outside building” actually was, for the Opera Epiclese?]

Eltringham (2012) has some really cool writings about the architecture, and people interact with the structure of courts (in his case, the International Criminal for Rwanda) and how all these features contribute to making the courthouse this liminal space where people can play their role, whether they realise it or not.

But, Almost-doctor, I hear you say, what about the spectacle ?! The audience enjoying the show ?!

Ah, yes. The audience. Just as with an Opera, the audience and the actors enter through differentiated means (the “segregation of circulatory systems”), all with their own point of access to the stage or the seats, and never the two shall meet. It is so important to a court system that you will find this feature highlighted by the architects that renovated the Bordeaux Courthouse and the US courthouse design and planning guide [These are just fun and striking illustration I stumbled on while writing this, you can find dozens of others from any given country]. These differentiated access path help reinforce the liminality of the courthouse not just for the actors, but for us, the audience as well.

You could even agree, with Garapon, that the audience itself is “playing” the audience, in the Courthouse (go read Garapon’s 2004 book, if you read French, it’s so good I swear and like it fueled 90% of whatever this word vomit is)). You are not really yourself, you have new, liminal role of spectator. A trial has a “need for a public”, even a silent one. “'Performance always intends an audience”, for Kapferere. and we can indeed talk about a Performance of Justice, when talking about how justice unfolds in the courthouse, especially in a criminal trial (Sausdal and Lohne, 2021).

The audience is an inherent part of the spectacle of justice – because is there a spectacle if there I no audience? If comedians perform a play with no audience, did it really happen? In the words of our own European Court of Human Rights (I am quoting the ECtHR on Tumblr.com, what is life): “Justice must not only be done, but must also be seen to be done” (Delcourt v Belgium, 1970). For Garfinkel “Legal rituals ... depend on the outside witness to confer on them not only recognition but validity” (Garfinkel, 1956);

Or, to put it more eloquently: “The need for the presence of a validating public at trials is enshrined in many constitutions and built into the very fabric of court complexes throughout the world. (…) Tthe court as a whole requires its reflection in the bodies of validating witnesses in order that this created place will bring sufficient gravity to itself.” (Eltringham 2012).

If a courthouse was just about the truth, or the parties involved reaching an agreement on what the truth is, there would be no need for the theatrics. We could handle a trial in a meeting group like problem-solving session in any run-of-the-mill company. Put everyone around the table, have a moderator, have a decider. That actually exist, it’s called arbitration, and you may have never heard of it despite the absolutely enormous amount of money that are involved (we are talking literal Billions of dollars every year, here), because the whole point is that it is discrete and confidential. But that is not how trials are, anywhere. It does exist though. It is called private arbitration, a form of private justice that focuses on problem-solving, expediency and secrecy, often because my friends, it involves big names and big money.

But justice? My friend, it needs to be a spectacle. It needs an Opera. Because this is how it gains sociological legitimacy, and it needs sociological legitimacy to function. By having an audience, it gains transparency and accountability.

Conclusion: teaser on why the spectacle of justice is not necessarily always totally bad, but also I am too tired to fully argue that.

Now, you might that it’s a bad idea. That what Genshin is doing is denouncing this inherently spectacular aspect of Justice, that there is something inherently wrong in justice being public and publicized for the gain of legitimacy, and sure, spectacular justice can become a parody of justice or a manipulation of justice and this has happened many times in history. And yes, you could go for that (although show trials have typically been at the service of an authoritarian regime in a transition phase, rising or declining, and target political opponents, which we do not see in Fontaine) but… I have another take for you.

Justice being a spectacle is not…  inherently bad. 

Hear me out. Making justice into a spectacle does not have to affect its outcome. The presence of a public does not change the course of a play.

Spectacular justice brings elements of entertainment such as narrative fulfillment and catharsis. That is clearly what Fontainians want: a satisfying end to the story, the truth exposed. Justice as a spectacle help people make sense of their reality, comfort them in knowing that justice does prevail. That the guilty do not go scott-free, that the good guys win, that justice is transparent, that prosecutor need to be able to build a good story to prosecute, and there is no good story is there is not someone who caused harm, and a victim that deserves justice. And, from the information we have so far, this does not seem to lead to miscarriages of justices, or a generally biased justice system. But frankly this is too long already and I just wanted to show that the depiction of the Spectacular in everyday justice is actually present everywhere IRL, and Genshin is just providing a really handy illustration, at this point of the story.

The Fontanian system is fucked, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not about the spectacular on its own. Long story short since it be worth its own word-vomit-style essay, it’s because the jury has been replaced by ChatGPT and there is no civil court, only a criminal court, k bye.

[venteas]

now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fuckin' dream i'm living in - genshin fic

ft. yae miko, ei, zhongli, jean, neuvilette

summary: they've left the universe, but are still watching you from above <3 (letters from them to you after they're gone, take that as you will, but it is heavily implied that they are dead)

YAE MIKO! my dearest yn, i have so much to tell you. there's so much i've seen here, and i wish with all my heart that you could be here with me. don't get me wrong, little one, i do believe you should stay a little longer, just to experience the whole of teyvat (and please send me all your stories, i just love reading them over fried tofu), but it'd be nice to have someone here with me to experience these wonderful things. i've met some old friends now, and we've caught up on so much. who knew a few hundred years could change someone so drastically, yet retain their essence? i wonder when you journey here, will you still be the same? oh, it'd be interesting, don't you think? it'd make a terrific novel. 'world-renowned traveller traverses the afterlife, how do they fare?', a fine title for an article, isn't that right? well, i should probably get going now. there's so much to do, and so much to see. do tell ei to write me back sometime, it would be lovely to hear from her again. and you, little one, should write to me too. hehe, the stories from your travels are always amusing, after all. with love, fried tofu with all the frills

EI! dear yn, how have you been? it must be awfully tiring, travelling around. i do hope you get the proper rest you need. there's always desserts in inazuma, feel free to stop by and help yourself to some. oh, and how is little paimon doing? i remember she quite enjoyed the sweets we shared on a number of our walks. frankly, it's been rather relaxing here. i enjoy it very much. it would be a great pleasure if you could visit one day, but that'd mean your journey would come to an end, and i know you have your sibling to find. i am regretful that i am unable to provide much information on her, but i've heard stories of a traveller very much like you, from centuries ago. they say that the traveller was brave, valiant and kind-hearted, much like you. it is at times like these that i realise i have missed so much, meditating in the plane of euthymia. i dearly wish that i had more time with my people, and you, of course, to truly understand the wonders of this world. do that for me, won't you? live your life out to the fullest. do not leave behind any regrets. and when we meet again, you will tell me all about your adventures. oh, and bring some desserts for me, please. thank you. yours sincerely, ei

ZHONGLI! yn, it has been a while since we last corresponded. how have you been doing? i heard that you are currently in fontaine. it is a beautiful place, i must admit. one full of history and culture and stories. if we have time, let us sit down with osmanthus wine and i shall tell you the stories i've heard. there's a story told in liyue, of a man who plays the guqin and another, a lumberjack, who understood his playing. it is said that the guqin player and the lumberjack agreed to meet at the very place they met a year later. tragically, the lumberjack met his end before he could fulfill this promise. wrecked with grief, the guqin player vowed to never touch even a string again, destroying his instrument, for what use would there be if there was no one else who would understand him? hearing this story again, it reminded me of you. who else had such empathy that they could understand the will of the divine? that said, you do have many other nations in teyvat to explore. throughout your journey, you will meet gods in disguise, and mortals disguised as gods. you will meet the soft-hearted, and the cruel. and you will survive it all, for you are an adventurer, above gods and deities, above the Heavenly Principles. please do visit me when you have time. i'd love to have a drink or two with you someday. and if you could, do check up on liyue sometime. i know they are well, but as a mortal, i never got the chance to experience it fully. it would mean a lot if you could do it in my stead. childe should have enough funds, should you need any. yours, zhongli

JEAN! my lovely yn, i heard you are doing well. that's good to hear, really. your job as an adventurer comes with its risks, and though they may not show it, but the knights of favonius often worry about your safety. haha, on more than one occasion, i've caught a few of them in the tavern wondering about you. do visit mondstadt more often to put their mind at ease, yeah? speaking of mondstadt, how are things over there? i left in such a rush that i wonder if things are frenzied. oh, i know i shouldn't worry, but i don't want everyone to pick up after me. you know how lisa hates doing work. kaeya's often busy too, travelling to sumeru and whatnot. albedo and sucrose are often busy with their experiments too, so i doubt they'd have time. and amber! how is she? poor girl, i heard her father passed on recently. she will get through it, i'm sure. and little klee, oh, i hope someone's able to keep her company. ah, am i rambling too much? i apologise, i've just been so worried over them. if you don't mind me asking, how has barbara been? i was her only family, since she isn't that close to the ragndinvr brothers, but i was always swamped with work. i do hope she's doing better. i never did get the chance to say i'm proud of all that she's accomplished now, did i? in that sense, i think i've failed terribly. enough about me, though. where has the wind taken you to? what else have you seen? and paimon, she's still with you, isn't she? take care of each other, both of you. come back to mondstadt when you need a break, its doors are always open for you. i hope to see you again, dear yn. may the wind bless your travels. best regards, jean gunnhildr NEUVILETTE! dear yn, ahem, is that how you start an informal letter? i apologise in advance, i am unused to sending such letters. now that you have left fontaine, things have strangely been a little duller. i often find myself looking up from my desk, waiting to see your face as you hand over a bottle of water from yet another one of your travel destinations. i thought i had sampled water from all over, but alas, you have once again proven me wrong. it was always a delight, however, to watch your expressions as i comment on the taste. i think, in some ways, it has helped me identify the subtle cues of humans. for example, when you lean in just a little when i speak, it shows your interest in my opinion. conversely, when your fingers start fidgeting, i know i've overstepped. i do not wish to bore you with an incredibly long letter, so i shall keep this as concise as possible. as you travel across teyvat, you will face victories and defeat. i know that your fairy companion will, sooner or later, tell you this, but you need to know that you are a traveller unlike any other. you are stronger than most, kinder than most. your strengths are built from your weaknesses, so one loss is just another stepping stone. with that said, i wish you all the best in your travels. when the time comes, let us sit down and have a meal, my treat. warmest regards, neuvilette

a/n: the story mentioned in zhongli's part is actually true! it's about 伯牙, a guqin player who wrote 水仙操 and 钟子期, a woodcutter. their story is more about their devotion towards each other as friends despite the staggering difference in class. you can read about them here.

[chickenkupo]

Treasure Hoard

Summary: As Neuvillette returns from his spontaneous trip from Liyue and delivers some gifts to Wriothesley, the duke starts to notice odd things happening around their shared living space. More objects keep appearing in their bedroom, treasures that don't make sense to Wriothesley such as shells, trinkets, gemstones and even various different type of tea cups. He swears up and down he hasn't been the one to purchase any of these goods, and when questioning Sigewinne about it, she's just as lost as he is.

What exactly is going on, and why does Neuvillette seem so pleased with himself?

Recommendations before reading: This little short story is a continuation of I Promise and Now For the Next Act. But, if you don't feel like really reading those, just know that Wriothesley and Neuvillette are mates, and they live together in a little sanctuary in Fontaine that was created for Neuvillette specifically by the Focalors.

Also, I'd highly suggest playing through the Lantern Rite event. I did most of it tonight and it was amazing and the adorableness of Neuv and Wrio was just MMMMM.

Warnings: This is a tame work, a little cute fluff treat. I told ya'll I'd be keeping you fed the week of Valentine's, and I meant it, so take this as a little sweet treat for you all. A Tumblr exclusive, if you will. You all have been wonderful to me here, and I'm glad to bring some entertainment to your days.

NOTE: This has not been beta-read, and I'm literally just typing this up on the Tumblr page thingie so it's gonna be a mess, but we are going to have some fun.

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Wriothesley scratched his head as he took in the sight before him. In their shared bed lied a copious amount of seashells, scattered in every direction. Some were small, others almost comically large, but all of them unique in their vast differences in coloration and patterns. In fact, a lot of these shells were ones that he had never seen along the shores of Fontaine before, so he began to wonder just where exactly did this come from, and who would have done this.

Okay, let's be real. Neuvillette would have torn up anyone that had dared crossed into their chambers that wasn't himself or Sigewinne. Wriothesley had already confronted the Melusine about this, thinking that this must have been some sort of prank against him after he told her about how much tea Neuvillette had brought back, as well as the stone slate that contained a legal codex. It confused the man at first, but taking into account how loyal Neuvillette was to his position and status, it took a moment or two for him to realize that such a gift from Neuvillette was a great thing. Hence, why he did make a little section of his office in the Fortress of Meropide to house it, something that he could stare at everyday to remind himself that he was always on Neuvillette's mind.

So, Wriothesley concluded the only logical answer was that for some reason, Neuvillette had began to hoard all sorts of trinkets he must have found on his now random outings. The duke and the traveler made sure to convince him to take more breaks and to go out and see the world as much as he can, and it looks like the mighty dragon took their words to heart and had started doing just that. Only, it seems that for some reason, Neuvillette had begun to bring back all sorts of things he found during his outings. The young man only prayed that Neuvillette would break out of this mood soon, but didn't mind allowing it for now, just as long as the dragon was happy on his adventures and seeing Teyvat for what it really was, in all of it's mysteries and splendors.

As much as he wanted to daydream about how his man would look during different locations, such as the grassy hills of Mondstadt, the electrifying peaks of Inazuma, or even how the Sumeru sun would reflect beautifully off of the elegance that was entirely Neuvillette, he had to bring himself back to reality.

This was all getting ridiculous. The shells on the bed covered it almost completely, and he had no real room to put them in, maybe some storage containers they had from where Wriothesley's belongings had to be moved once he began residing there. The duke sighed as he grabbed an empty container, getting to work and putting the myriad of shells into it, tired from the work of the day and just wanting to relax in bed for a bit for a quick nap. He made sure to keep the box of shells close by, knowing that it would crush the dragon if he had tossed whatever he had decided to collect.

Yawning, Wriothesley removed his coat and clothing, stripping down and getting dressed in a pair of simple black boxers, before he snuggled underneath the soft sheets of their bed. He had been craving a nap all day, no amount of tea drinking seemed to deliver enough caffeine into his body to keep him awake. Surely a small nap wouldn't harm anyone, right? Besides, if he slept in too late, he knew that Neuvillette would wake him up and demand attention from him in one form or another.

Yeah, a nap sounded pretty good right now.

º

º

º

As the young man started to awaken from his slumber, he began to stretch out his limbs with a loud yawn as he normally did, until both hands and legs seemed to crash into something, the sounds of various things falling off the bed as he continued to stretch out his limbs. This startled the duke who immediately woke up in a state of confusion, causing his limbs to turn and twist more, causing even more items to fall, crashing into the floor.

What the hell was going on?!

The man arose, being careful not to make anymore sudden movements until he could gather exactly what was happening. His eyes widened in further confusion and panic as he saw just how stuffed the room was now. Sure, the area where the water surrounded the bed was clear, but the pathway out of the bedroom and around the bed itself felt like some sort of ancient loot hall from a temple of old. Dozens of gold and silver trinkets littered the floor, statues and plates, necklaces and gemstones of various colors and details. There seemed to also be random boxes of tea scattered around, as well. Some were new boxes that Wriothesley had become recently familiar of since the Steambird's articles began releasing after the Lantern Rite event. Others seemed like old brews that were, at this point, probably more for show than for actual consumption.

There were other goodies laying about as well. Books that dealt with true crime or laws of old, scrolls that were in languages that Wriothesley was very unfamiliar with, but there was one thing that seemed to stand out to the duke. It appeared that the bigger gold and silver pieces were placed near or on the bed, as if he were the one that was sleeping in a treasure vault and taking joy in all of the splendors, the further away the goods were from Wriothesley, the less vividness and preciousness the items seemed to hold. It was as if Neuvillette kept his closest valuables towards Wriothesley, with the duke himself seemingly being the most valuable one.

As Wriothesley was about to get up and try to figure out what to do with all of this, he heard the door connecting the bedroom to the living room open, Neuvillette walking through with even more goods in his arms. This time, it appeared to be various fruits and wrapped baked goods, a large smile appearing on his face as Wriothesley took in the scene, a slight glare in his eyes.

"Neuvillette, what the hell are you doing?!" the young man growled out, still stuck in place as he was afraid to move and make anymore of a mess.

The dragon put the items down in one of the few free spaces still left, his eyes never leaving his mate, as he tilted his head in confusion.

"Oh? What do you mean? I saw how happy you were when you received those gifts from Clorinde and I, and I couldn't resist. I was awful before, never thinking to shower you in actual physical possessions, because of my ignorance and fear of leaving my position for any sort of leave. Now, however, I have all of the time in the world to make up for it. See, here even, I ventured out all the way to this bakery on the outskirts of Fontaine, the breads appear to be truly delectable, at least that is what Furina told me. Here, you can see-"

"Neuv! Honey, you don't need to do this you know!" Wriothesley uttered out as he shoved away the trinkets and treasures near him, so that he could create a path for himself to reach his ridiculous lover. Neuvillette merely paused, blinking in confusion as the duke wrapped his muscular arms around his dragon, hugging him tightly and sighing.

"W-Wriothesley?" the dragon questioned, obviously welcoming the hug as he began to return the favor, wrapping his own arms around the broad chest of the man, as best as he could.

"You can be such a big idiot sometimes, you know that? You know every law of the land, every crime with every punishment to match it, laws old and new never forgotten by you. But you just don't get the simple stuff sometimes, do you?" the young man asked, kissing Neuvillette on the cheek, which made the dragon blush, still blinking with questioning eyes.

"Listen, Neuv, love, I don't need all of these things. Sure a gift here or there is nice for anyone, but I never held it against you that you didn't really do that before. We're both busy men with schedules that drive us insane sometimes. Look, just being able to come home to you and spend time with you and being able to look into those eyes of yours every night before I drift off to sleep, and waking up to look into them too, that's the best gift I could ask for, okay?" Wriothesley relayed to his mate, in such a calm manner that it almost seemed like a whisper.

The dragon's eyes widened as he listened to his lover, holding him tightly as his mate continued explaining. In a shocking show, small droplets of tears started to form at the edges of his eyes, before a few started to roll down his cheek, which Wriothesley wiped away, smiling softly and understandably at his mate. As much as Neuvillette was such a stoic and strict man, Wriothesley knew that he was starved for genuine love and appreciation, and even though his life was forever changed by this man and his want to keep him at his side forever, it was now more of a blessing to him than a curse would ever be. If he now had an eternity to live, then he would spend every waking moment of it showing that Neuvillette is appreciated and loved dearly, in return.

"Now, let's try to clean up this mess so one of us doesn't trip and break our necks just trying to get out the door, okay?" Wriothesley chuckled, planting a few more kisses on Neuvillette's cheeks, loving the way that his man's blush would deepen with every kiss received.

Neuvillette merely chuckled as he smiled a most gorgeous, heartfelt smile that he had ever mustered, in all of his centuries of existence.

"Of course, my most precious treasure."

[rems-writing]

Hongjoong as Chiori

》 Pairing: none

》 Genre/AU: fluffy headcanon/Genshin Impact AU

》 Wordcount: 874 words

》 Rating: pg-13

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

Happy birthday to the captain of Ateez! This man is so incredibly talented and amazing, and I hope he realizes that he changed my life and has changed the lives of so many people. Keep doing what you are doing and always strive for excellence!

Chiori is a sword user with a geo vision. She is originally from Inazuma, but she moved to Fontaine to expand her fashion business. She is somewhat friends with almost everyone in Fontaine, but the one that she’s closest with is Chevreuse, a polearm user with a pyro vision. I thought about who in Ateez would fit the closest to Chiori and the answer was simple. 

Kim Hongjoong. 

I could see him in his own version of Chiori’s yukata. The yukata would be a hanbok of course. However, the hanbok would still have the same color scheme and patterns as Chiori’s yukata. Knowing Hongjoong, he would most likely reform the golden yellow hanbok and make it his own. 

I mean period. As he should. If he didn’t, then he isn’t Hongjoong lol anyways. 

Hongjoong wouldn’t be as shady as Chiori (let’s be real. With the way Chiori is, you can’t tell if she’s being shady or not), but he’d definitely be cheeky, especially if you put Seonghwa as Chevreuse. 

Matz for life!

I could totally see Hongjoong being such a little shit around Seonghwa. I swear Seonghwa might have gray hairs due to the amount of stress Hongjoong would put him under. And let’s not forget the most iconic Chiori line whenever she addresses Chevreuse. 

“You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”

Granted, Chiori doesn’t actually own this phrase. However, this line alone made me realize that despite everything Chiori has done, she cares for Chevresue and she definitely wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of her musket. The same goes for Matz. Even though Hongjoong can be a little shit around Seonghwa, he has his limits. At the end of the day, he cares for the eldest member of Ateez and he doesn’t want to be the reason why Seonghwa is mad. 

Ok I’m getting a bit sappy here so let’s move in. 

One of Chiori’s lines when you unleash her burst is “I am the cutting edge of fashion!” Like her, Hongjoong is indeed the cutting edge of fashion. I remember he stated one time that Hongjoong wants to build a fashion brand where there are no gender boundaries. Anyone can wear his clothing as long as they are comfortable and it matches their aesthetic! I feel as though Chiori would do the same thing. She can tailor any set of clothing to the person’s needs whilst still putting her own personal touch on it. 

Chiori’s elemental skill is to release tamoto dolls and have her switch to another character (either pyro, hydro, cryo, or electro), to get the crystallize effect and defeat the enemies faster. I don’t know why, but I can just visualize Hongjoong sewing together a bunch of tamoto dolls to do his bidding while he catches up on sleep. 

The man sleeps everywhere and falls asleep on everything!

He needs to produce more tracks? Tamoto doll. He needs to send letters to his family back home since he’s unable to visit? Tamoto doll. He needs Wooyoung to shut up? Tamoto doll. He wants to bother Seonghwa yet he can’t do it in person? Tamoto doll. 

On the topic of that, I honestly find it so hilarious that Hongjoong would send a tamoto doll to pester Seonghwa and distract him from his work. So imagine this. 

Seonghwa (as Chevreuse) is performing his typical duties. Patrolling the streets of Fontaine, stopping criminals in true Chevreuse fashion, eating feast-os during his break, and repeating the process until he calls it a day. As he walks down the streets with his musket in hand, he sees something floating towards him. When it gets closer, he sees that it’s one of Hongjoong’s tamoto dolls just floating there and staring at him. 

“Do you need something, Joong?”

The doll just cocks its head to the side and Seonghwa sighs. He does not have the time or the energy to deal with Hongjoong’s bullshit. The doll gets closer and Seonghwa, albeit apprehensive, is curious on what the doll might do. The doll soon retracts its head and…

Bonks Seonghwa on the forehead. 

Despite having soft material stuffed in the doll, Seonghwa wasn’t expecting that to happen. He soon chases the doll down. It was fast, but Seonghwa was faster. As it reached the shop, it escaped his grasp and the man soon found himself standing in the middle of Hongjoong’s boutique, panting and out of breath. Hongjoong sees him and giggles as he gets up from his work table and walks around so he can stand in front of him. 

“Really, Joong?”

“What?! Business is slow today and I know you haven’t eaten yet so I sent out one of my dolls to come fetch you so we could have lunch together!”

“You couldn’t just approach me or simply stroll up to me and hand me the food… like a normal person?”

“Now where’s the fun in that, Hwa?”

Seonghwa sighs and sits down with Hongjoong so they could munch on the food that the designer bought. After all, he wasn’t one to turn down free food. As he eats, he gives the tamoto dolls a side-eye so menacing that the dolls are shaking in their boots. 

Time to hide in the closet!

[bakingtherapy]

Genshin Inspired Recipes #3 Eula: Custard

Hello, every birdie. Today we are going to be making a dish inspired by a character named Eula. 

Eula - She is a Cyro character from Mondsadt. She has a heavy burden over her, regard to her family. She is part of the Lawerence clan and thinks that everyone doesn’t like her because of it. And no matter what happens to her she acts with “vengeance.”

She was my second 5-star character in the game. 

Every nation in Genshin is based on a specific country in the world. 

Mondsadt is Germany. 

Liyue is China

Inazuma is Japan

Sumeru is India 

Fontaine - French

Natlan - Philippines or Africa

For today’s recipe, we are going to be looking at a German recipe. This cookbook was gifted to me by my German grandma (adopted. We adopted each other as grandmother and granddaughter.). Like she lived in Germany until she was 7 years old.  So this cookbook will always have a place in my heart. 

I do have to have google open with this cookbook though. Because there is terminology that I don’t know and had to look up. 

Okay, onto the recipe. We are going to be following a recipe called “GUSTIN - pudding with Fruit.”

The recipe and the measurements will be down below. Feel free to look at it. 

The ingredients you will need are:

GUSTIN (corn starch powder)

Sugar 

Oetker Vanillin Sugar (if you don’t have this, which I didn’t. I added about 1 -2 tsp of vanilla extract to the same amount of granulated sugar.) (Edit from future Robby - Wegman's & Walmart both have this for about $2.00. I just didn't know that at the time.)

1 egg separated 

Milk or water

Milk 

Fresh fruit 

In a bowl, you are going to mix together your GUSTIN, which is your corn starch. Your sugar, and vanilla, the egg yolk with 6 Tablespoons of cold milk or water. 

In a pot on the stove, you are going to bring together a pint which is 2 cups of milk to a boil. I doubled this recipe because I was feeding 7 adults. And it didn’t look like that much. So always go with your gut feeling on the quantity you need. And yes, sometimes your gut feeling will not be correct. 

Once your milk is at a boil, remove it from the heat, and stir in the corn starch mixture. Trust me when I say that you want to turn the mixture off the heat. There have been many times when I burnt the pudding because I added the cornstarch or thickening agent when the mixture was on heat. 

When all of your dry ingredients are incorporated, you are going to bring it back to the stove and bring it to a boil, yet again. 

You are going to whisk your egg white until stiff peaks. If you have a hard time with a meringue there are a few tips that I have learned along the way from my mom. 

Put your equipment in the freezer about 10-30 minutes before you are going to use it. 

Use a metal bowl. It holds the coldness longer. 

Never try to do a meringue by hand. You will be tired at the end of it, and you will not have stiff peaks that are generally needed. 

Make sure to constantly stir your pudding mixture. Nobody likes burnt pudding, it just sits there unpleasantly at the back of your throat, just reminding you that you made a mistake. So don’t do like I have done in the past. 

Once the mixture comes to a boil, you are going to take it off the heat. And fold in your egg whites. While it is still hot, thus you cook your egg white. And you are not eating raw egg whites. 

(Gotta love the mess in the picture. I couldn't even be bothered to clean up the table. Geez. 😂)

When you serve the pudding, you can add the fruit to it however you like. I made it into like a trifle-like thing. It tasted really good, and it wasn’t a heavy dessert either. I am finding that as I get older, I like baking with fruits and veggies more than anything else. 

I hope that you liked this recipe. Feel free to check it out down below. See you in the next recipes. Thank you. 

Show the original author some 💖💖💖 Robby's Cookbook Collection

Here is a printable version of this recipe: on the blog

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[hellobitchlet]

I've seen a few people mention Liyue as an example to show that Hoyo is perfectly capable of doing proper research into cultures. I want to expand on my opinions about Liyue and culture a little, with some stuff I've been thinking about for a while.

So, my main interest in Genshin atm is that I've been rewriting the story. One of the main things I'm doing is putting more important lore into the main story. This has led me to looking at each nation from the perspective of "what important things are connected to this place? What can Traveler learn from here?"

Liyue is the first nation Traveler goes to in which the Archon War happened in full force. And with that, we have the adepti, immortal creatures from Chinese mythology that ruled over humanity. Adepti lore is more fleshed out than any other immortal archon group by far, thanks to having multiple characters from that group being playable 5 stars, and Genshin being more willing to make plotlines about them.

And of course, there's the culture stuff. There are two 4 stars who exist to show off Chinese culture, and we get a Lantern Rite every year. There's also Chenyu Vale, whose main draw (aside from more adepti lore(sort of)), is showing off Chinese culture through this brand new city and town.

So, obviously, Liyue's main selling points are adepti lore and Chinese culture. This is both bad for Liyue from a story perspective, and the other nations from a culture perspective.

Let me explain:

It's bad for Liyue because one of the main points having nothing to do with the story, combined with the amount of focus it gets, fills the nation up with so much filler. Aside from Baizhu and Yaoyao, we've gotten 5 new Liyue characters since Inazuma started! Those characters?

Yun Jin- filler 4 star whose gimmick is Chinese opera.

Shenhe- I'm sorry to say this, and I promise that I like her too, but she's mainly Razor if he was raised by a different immortal. Not exactly the same by far, but she functions in the same way. We didn't need another Razor. Razor and Andrius already don't get much screen time.

Yelan- honestly could've been super important with her Pantalone connection, but is instead just reduced to sexy 5 star with a gambling gimmick, to the point where she might as well be filler.

Cloud Retainer- ...ok. I don't have a huge problem with her. Other than being used to make fat jokes about Ganyu, she's neat. But she was fine as an npc, and her moving into the Harbor wasn't all that necessary when she seemed perfectly fine with living in the mountains.

Gaming- filler 4 star whose gimmick is lion dancing.

You get my point, right? The last time I remember something notable story wise coming out of Liyue was the Chasm and Perilous Trail, all the way back in Inazuma. Yet, we've gotten 4 characters, 2 Lantern Rite's, 3 LR skins, and a massive new area from Liyue since. It's so much filler. And we already have enough filler as is.

We've sure gotten more adepti lore, mainly in LR, but.. you know we're only getting that as set up to make more Liyue characters. We've learned almost everything we need to know about their story already, we have pretty much everything except for Zhongli and Guizhong's origins.

And it's bad for the other nations bc Liyue's treatment makes Natlan and Sumeru being like that, mashing European cultures together in Mondstadt and Fontaine when they're supposedly based off of 1 country, and only paying a little attention to Japanese culture in Inazuma look even worse.

They CAN, in fact, show off cultures they have researched. They've never been good at accurate designs, both with a character's appearance and their clothing, but they've still put so much more care into Liyue than other nations! There's no real reason why they can't do that for other nations. And there's no reason why they can't be even better, and make their playable characters look like the people of the cultures they're based on.

I don't have much of a point that I wanna make here. This is just an analysis I've gradually made about Liyue and it's effect on other nations.

[queerseras]

to live for another

an arlecchino x la signora oneshot

pre and post chapter 2: inazuma

Months passed and the ruthless winter of Snezhnaya began to calm down. Arlecchino stood on the same dock where she had last seen La Signora, preparing to go back to Fontaine for the Tsaritsa's next plan.

The sea stretched out before her, endless and unyielding, its vast unknowns laying beyond. She closed her eyes, letting the wind whip through her hair, and whispered silently, “Did you know, Rosalyne?”

“Last time, Lyney and the children asked me about you. About how we met.

So I told them about the first time I saw you, standing tall and proud in the dim light of the palace, and how I immediately disliked you.”

A soft chuckle left Arlecchino's lips, the sound almost lost in the wind.

“Your cold stare that seemed to pierce through anyone who dared to look your way—I told them about how it used to remind me of my ‘mother,’ the nightmare I had just barely escaped from, and how I tried my best to not get involved with you.”

She paused, the waves crashing softly against the dock, carrying a gentle breeze to her face.

“But I also told them about how I began to see past that façade, how I discovered the flames concealed within your soul, your resilience, your warmth—and how everything about you simply contradicted the image of my mother, to the point that I felt ashamed for ever associating you with such a person.”

“I told them everything I knew about you. Your past, your pain, your trauma, and how you, despite it all, still managed to stand tall in front of the harshest winters.”

Arlecchino threw her gaze far to the distant sea. She gripped onto her coat, feeling the cold permeating through her veins.

“But I didn't tell them about how I fell for you,” she said, smiling bitterly. “Perhaps because I was a coward. Because I was afraid to speak of the depths of love I'm holding for you. Because no matter how loud I shout, this love would eventually sink down to the pits of the ocean—forever unable to reach you.”

Arlecchino stared down, her fingertips beginning to numb slightly from the chill. But she continued, her voice steady.

“But they missed you, Rosalyne. We all do.”

“I wish I could see you again for one last time, to finish the sentence I had never started. I wish I had lived a bit more greedily while you were still here with me,” she hushed. “But what use is there in wishing now? You are gone, and I am left with this hollow ache.”

The sky above was painted with the colors of dusk, the day slowly surrendering to the night. Arlecchino sighed, hoping to breathe out the suffocating feeling in her chest.

“I will carry on, as you did, with the strength you showed me. But if you allow me to be a little bit selfish, Rosalyne, I don't want to forget you. I will never forget you.”

Arlecchino stood there for a moment longer, the wind tugging at her coat as the memories flooded back to her mind.

Then, with one last look at the dock, the ship sailed, and Arlecchino never looked back again.

Rest now, my beloved.

You are free from the pain of this world, but you will live on in my heart, for as long as I draw breath.

Farewell, Rosalyne.

Until the day we meet again.

***

[lily-jaxk]

A Farmer, a Chef, an Actress, and a Mechanic decide to live together.

Four random souls find themselves in the world of Teyvat, and decide that suffering for something as stupid as the plot was not worth it.

Raiden Mikoto | Ajax | Furina de Fontaine | Mary-Ann Guillotin

Other Parts to be added...

Mikoto had no idea how she got here.

One moment she was running away from her shitty father. Well, fake father would be precise. That's right, all those manhwa fake daughter and real daughter tropes were real. Then when she got on the road, a truck suddenly slammed into her, and she died.

No seven minutes of best memory. No seeing her loved ones.

Just death.

The next thing she sees is purple eyes, violet hair, and a sword in her hand. "What the fuck?" were her first words, much to the surprise of her creator and her bitchy fox wife.

She discovers she's the Raiden Shogun. Not Raiden Ei, but the puppet itself. As her creator activates her protocols and retreats to her realm, and the pink fox leaves with a small scoff, Mikoto begins to plan.

She knows she couldn't leave now, that would be unwise. She would have to wait until the Traveler came and the Inazuma Arc was completed. It would take a long time, but patience had its perks after all.

She waited, and waited, and waited some more. Untill the day of the 100tn Vision was obtained, and she saw familiar blonde hair and the pixie from the moon. "Finally." She said out loud, and ignored the questioning look on the Travelers face and dragged them to meet Ei.

Unfortunately, Mikoto had forgotten about Story Quests, and found herself fighting her creator over something she honestly didn't care about. Eternity? Fuck that shit. Staying stuck in the past was one of the worst things to do. It was better to move on and leave all the pain and trauma one had behind. It was better to grow and learn from the past so you wouldn't have to suffer in the future.

That was something Mikoto believed, but the beliefs and protocols shoved down her body refused to listen, and so her body fought and fought until she lost.

Weeks later, Mikoto woke up in a body that wasn't her own. Well, that wasn't her creator's. Her creator had made her a new body, and she nervously stared at Mikoto. "I hope. . . .that you can find the true meaning in your life, without me pushing down my own beliefs. You are now free to go."

Mikoto continued to stare at her, ignoring the way the Traveler sighed with exhaustion next to her. "You suck at this. No wonder big brother hates you."

An Anemo Vision hung on her hip as she stepped on a boat heading to Liyue, her now shoulder length hair swaying in the wind as she gave Inazuma a final middle finger.

Fuck everyone else, she was going to Liyue to become a farmer archons damm it.

A little silly idea I had a while back. Hope you all enjoy!!

[the-ragingenby]

I posted this as a comment before realizing you probably wanted it in asks (first week on tumblr lol) If you don't mind, I'd like to see a Wriothesley x Jean fic. I think the "way too serious couple that learns to have fun together" trope is so underutilized but it would be perfect for them. I know it's kind of a tough rarepair, but I feel like they would meet during a chase for an international criminal that they help each other catch.

An interesting ship! Have I caught up with Genshin since the middle of Inazuma? No. So I had to do a little (a LOT) of research to kinda sorta make this sound okay? I hope you like it :,)

also, learning to spell his name. not fun. too many letters.

Darling

Wriothesley x Jean

~1600 words

Wriothesley let out an irritated sigh as he scribbled out a letter. He hated having to ask her like this, but there was no one else he trusted more to help him with this…problem. 

~

“Jean, you can’t possibly be serious.” Kaeya murmured from his spot in a darkened corner of her office. Jean had called him and Lisa to discuss how they would increase patrols and security now that a serial murderer was running around, fleeing each nation he passed through. “I mean, think about it. Sending the Acting Grand Master out to find some murderer on her own sounds like suicide.”

“Though I would’ve chosen a kinder way to put it, he is right you know.” Lisa added softly, waving a gloved hand. “We need to be on high alert. We can’t exactly ask the other nations for help. And with the Fatui still sniffing around, they may use this incident to try something.” 

“Well…” Jean hesitated, wondering if she should even mention that it was Wriothesley that asked her to help. That would probably make them even more adamant that she shouldn’t go. But…she had to. She did owe him one, after all. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll leave it to Fontaine and their leaders to figure it out.”

Lisa and Kaeya exchanged a suspicious look. “Jean, you never give up that easily. What’s going on? Seriously.” Kaeya finally quipped after a moment, looking her up and down with his good eye. “Did you get a boyfriend or something? Is he from Fontaine?” 

“Kaeya!” Lisa hissed, and Jean fought hard to keep her composure. Kaeya, for some ungodly reason, could always read people like an open book. She had to keep it together and not let him get to her. 

“No, nothing like that.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth, but she carried on, meeting his gaze as evenly as she could. “I’m just…very tired right now. Things have been busy, you understand. For now, we’ll double patrols and see how things go from there.” She gave a decisive nod and rose from her desk.

“Then, good night, Jean.” Lisa waved, her usual smile on her face. Kaeya simply nodded to Jean as she passed, shaking his head softly once she’d gone. 

“Things are going to get a lot more lively around here.” He snorted, giving an exaggerated shrug before slipping from the room. Lisa likely knew something was up, but at least she had the sense to keep that to herself. 

~

It was long past midnight when Jean snuck back into her office, opening a drawer and collecting a letter that sat hidden at the very bottom. Wriothesley…I’ll be there soon. With a sigh, she grabbed a clean sheet of paper and scribbled out a set of instructions for her knights, leaving Kaeya and Lisa jointly in charge. 

Would Kaeya and Lisa be alright on their own? Especially with Klee running around? Yeah…probably. Jean grabbed a cloak from a coatrack in a far corner, draping it over herself and slipping from the Knight’s headquarters, easily sneaking past patrolling knights.

With newfound determination, she made her way through Starfell Valley before finally coming to Starfell Lake. Jean paused, anxiety gnawing at her, and gazed around nervously, wondering if he would actually show. 

“There you are.” A gentle voice came from behind her, its owner shrouded in shadow. “And to think that I was starting to doubt you’d show.” Wriothesley revealed himself from within a tree, landing gracefully beside her. 

“Of course I did.” Jean replied easily, feeling herself relax by just having him beside her. “You said you needed help, so here I am.” Even as she said that, though, she knew deep down that Wriothesley could handle himself. But it made her happy that he called for her anyway. 

“Hm. So I did.” He smiled brightly at Jean, nudging her sofly. “Just wanted to relive old times, y’know? I mean, we did meet on a criminal chase after all.”

Jean let out a snort of amusement and just a smidgen of disbelief. “That was ages ago. And I didn’t think you’d remember all that. It’s not like we were the ones who caught the guy.” Wriothesley’s smile only grew brighter as he gazed at her, before leading the way towards the hidden beach.

“We only didn’t catch him because you distracted me.” He glanced back momentarily to stick out his tongue at her. “You were just too stunning, darling.” Jean sputtered, taken aback by his forwardness, and fought to maintain her composure. 

“You flatter me, Duke. Truly.” Wriothesley snorted at the use of his title. 

“I’ve told you about a million times that you don’t need to use those formalities with me. Besides, I love it when you say my name.” He suddenly froze, not giving Jean any time to retort or feel embarrassment. “Look, there. I’ve been tailing him for days now, but it looks like he’s finally taken a rest.” 

Jean looked towards the cliff that rested above the beach, noticing a small tent and fire set against its base. “Are we sure that’s him?” She whispered, keeping to the shadows to avoid being seen premptively. 

“Positive. I’d know that insignia anywhere. He’d stolen some supplies as he made his way out of Fontaine. My only assumption was that he was trying to make his way to Snezhnaya, since it’d be much more difficult to…retrieve him there.” Wriothesley growled softly, eyes focused on the convict’s tent.

“Please tell me you actually have a plan.” Jean hissed, realizing that Wriothesley was about to charge across the beach and maybe even tackle the tent, if he was feeling it. “How do we know he’s even in there?” 

Wriothesley opened his mouth to retort, but then slowly shut it again, giving a sheepish laugh. “You know what, how about you do the honors?” He gestured vaguely towards the tent, causing Jean to roll her eyes.

“He’s your convict, you know. I’m only here for support.” But even as she said that, Jean found herself aiming her hands towards the tent, sending a burst of anemo to shake it, startling the person inside.

“What’s happening? A storm?” A man poked his head out of the tent, looking out towards the sea. Deciding it was calm enough for his liking, he disappeared back into the tent. 

Wriothesley let out a breathy laugh, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “That’s him alright.” Without another word, he slunk across the beach and began using his cryo to freeze the tent and its windows into place, leaving only the main entrance available.

“What is going on? The weather here is so…weird…” His voice trailed off as he reopened the tent’s door only to be face to face with Wriothesley. “...Shit.” 

~

With nowhere else to run, Wriothesley easily wrangled his escaped convict and, at Jean’s insistence, tossed him into one of Mondstadt’s high security jail cells to be retrieved once it was a more reasonable hour. 

“You know, I didn’t ask you to come out here just for assistance with this recapture mission, right?” Wriothesley asked, sitting along the shore of Starfell Lake, staring into its clear waters.

“I figured.” Jean admitted after a moment, shifting her feet as she stood beside him. “Usually you can handle these things on your own. Not that I minded or anything. I’m…glad you did.” She tacked on quickly. Wriothesley looked up at her, then patted the grassy patch beside him, inviting her to sit. After a moment, she obliged. 

“You’ve just been working so hard lately. And I wanted to give you some reprieve from your work.” He sighed, looking up at the starry sky.

“You say that like you aren’t a workaholic yourself.” Jean snorted, though she felt a rush of affection for the duke. Wriothesley let out a laugh, turning to smile at her. 

“This is true. But I’m working on it, I promise.” He murmured, gently taking her hand in his. “I also just…missed you, so much. And I wanted to say it in person. Any way I wrote it just didn’t feel right.”

“Wriothesley…” Jean breathed, even as she felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. “I…missed you too. A lot.” Wriothesley gently flipped Jean’s hand, running his thumb along her palm. 

“I love you, y’know. And I hate that I can’t be with you all the time.” He admitted after a long moment, holding her hand marginally tighter. 

Jean lowered her gaze, unable to bring herself to meet his eyes. Even as embarrassment coursed through her, she gave him a gently nod, clearing her throat after a moment. “I love you too.” She whispered, her voice barely above the wind blowing through the valley. 

“Ahh, I love hearing you say that, darling.” Wriothesley practically purred, leaning against Jean and sneaking a soft kiss against her cheek. “It’s so good to hear it in person.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jean muttered, but she let him lean his weight on her, begrudgingly accepting his words, and his feelings. He made her happy, and that’s all that mattered.

[storysprite]

Ei’s Apocrypha - A Shogun’s Story in Stills: Inazuma

For a while now I always include a short character story to go with my Genshin fanart. This one will be my first installation of “Ei's Apocrypha”. I technically have other Ei stories that fall under this theme but I hadn't thought of the series at the time. The point will be to draw images/snapshots of her life, with stories that you could imagine happened in her past. Some of them will be a lot sillier and just for fun/AU like Ei and Furina on a girl's night out in Fontaine. Or in highschool with the other Archons. But for the most part they'll explore a past that Hoyo haven't really gone into much detail yet.

The story for this piece is below.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ei's Apocrypha - A Shogun's Story in Stills: Inazuma.

The records of the tales of the life of She who is Voice of Thunder and form of Lightning. House of Yae Revised Edition.

Editor's notes: Some parts of the ancient records could not be recovered so the text will show gaps that are incomplete. Requests have been sent to Tenshukaku for clarification. However, the Shogunate has decided not to provide commentary, in order to preserve the spirit of myth that is due and proper to divinity. As well as not give a settled answer on articles of devotion and tradition that have developed over time, which different sects of the Faithful hold in contradiction to one another yet with equal conviction and reverence.

(Part 1 of 8)

Even in the early days of her awakening, the Lady of the Sakura Woods was devoted to an art form that consumed much of her time. A pastime that reflected the nature of one born of both serenity and chaos. A paradox that embodied her soul. Perhaps that's why she was born as a {...}air.

She took to the sword for its discipline and singular focus. The mind and body are united in one goal: to strive for strong physical prowess and mental agility. Everything united. Later on, it was understood that what becomes one and indivisible cannot be taken apart and cannot be destroyed.

Ironic, then, forgoing the body to save the mind, she sacrificed not just her relationships but a true part of herself.

A true warrior's battle isn't first with their opponent, but with their own limitations. This art was a way to do so. Love of the art, not death.

When they were first awakened, the moment lightning conjured under moonlight struck its own reflection in the water, the light and the light of light were born. The irony is that the light of light would bear the name of {....}adow.

And yet, in herself, she was full of light and life. So why did the Heavens call her to fight, not to protect what she loved, but for Authority?

These thoughts weighed heavily on her mind. Especially today, as she wiped blood born of fire from her blade.

"She's here! I know it," said a little girl with pink hair, leading her friend deep into the woods at night. "If we're quiet we might even catch her singing."

"Akari, is my family even allowed to be here?" asked her frightened friend.

"Anyone who is looking for a safe place and wants to live in peace is welcome here."

"But is it safe?" asked the friend. "I've never seen a forest like this before. It seems like a strange place. Who knows what monsters are hiding here."

"Not anymore! All the danger has been chased away!" said Akari. "It's night, but the forest feels bright. We're alone, but haven't you felt like we're being watched over in a good way?"

(Part 2 of 8)

Her friend hesitated for a moment and looked around.

"I suppose," she said, letting out a sigh of relief. "But why?"

"It was the Lady of the Lightning. The Woman of the Woods," cheered Akari. "She chased all the monsters out and left sparking leaves and flowers all around to warn them not to come back."

Her friend got worried again. "What if she chases me and my family away?"

"Never! She's nice," said Akari. "When those bad men on the black horses came to our village, I ran here. They tried to catch me, but the Lady scared them away and played music for me to make me feel better when she came back like my momma used to."

The girls wandered around the forest a little more, chatting and laughing, till eventually they stumbled upon a lake that looked like it had a life of its own.

Standing in the midst of the water was a woman with long violet hair, with such an air about her that she seemed like an illusion of moonlight wiping red stains from her sword and lilac dress.

The water glimmered with an enchanted glow and rang with a low, sweet sound, as though its ripples were soft notes echoing through the night. Each droplet that wiped on her blade and robes would take away their red stains and instantly remove them without polluting the lake.

Once the woman's gown was entirely clean and her sword shone again like the evening star, she turned her head every so slightly towards the sound of a pair of little feet not too far away.

The girls knew they had been spotted. For it seemed like the light of the Lady's golden horns, like that Oni, be they real or enchanted ornaments, sought them out from the bushes where they hid.

"I think I remember saying something about children needing to sleep on time," said the Lady.

"But I don't feel tired anymore when I come to this part of the forest," said Akari.

"Hmm... Maybe I made this place too comfortable then," noted the Lady. For the forest, and this spot in particular were no ordinary place. But had long become an extension of her inner world, sealed off from the mortal lands around it.

A safe haven for her and her newly awakened {....} to preserve all the good things they discovered.

"Eventually, we'll keep adding to this place and make it a nice home for the people to come and rest," the Lady's {.....} suggested one day. A sentiment they both shared.

(Part 3 of 8)

But the Lady had a concern not shared by her {....}. "Will it remain a nice home if the people come with all their problems?"

This was a thought that bothered her for quite some time.

Until one day, when the Lady was taking a walk along the periphery of the forest, she heard the desperate cry of a child. It belonged to Akari who was terrified of some riders on dark horses. They bore banners in honour of "The Lord of the Invincible Flame," and by their bright torches lit during the day, it looked like they were about to make Akari their sacrifice.

So the Lady made the forest appear again on the mortal plane and, in so doing, became visible to Akari and her pursuers.

"Leave her be," she said to the now terrified men. They looked like they wanted to flee, but another fear kept them planted in place.

"We... we can't leave without her," said the men. "Our Lord demands His sacrifice."

"And who is this Lord?"

The men looked at each other. It was clear that they were wondering whether or not they had a chance against this strange horned woman who stood before them.

At once, they yelled in a strange tongue and threw orbs that lit up with smokeless fire in hopes of burning the girl.

But before the fires could reach Akari, the Lady stood between her and the flames. Fanning them away with one swipe of the katana that materialised in her hand.

The Lady moved so quickly that it startled the horses which threw their owners off at the terrifying sight of her glowing violet gaze. The horses ran as though commanded, leaving their rider's behind.

"You- you can't do this," cried the leader of the men. "If our Lord doesn't have this child, then our families will perish."

The Lady raised her blade till it was but a hair's breadth from grazing the man's face.

"I won't ask you again. Who is your Lord, and why does he want this sacrifice?" Her blade began to spark with the violet light of Electro, just enough to tickle the tip of the man's nose. But he knew in his heart that if a good answer was not forthcoming, that this power would do a lot more than that.

"The... the... Edict of the Heavens," said the terrified man. "The Gods of the land are to carve out their own space to reign and bring order as they see fit. That the powers of the world may be at rest. But as each ruling God grows in power, so too does their influence and reign until it encroaches on the domain of another God. Then the weaker of the two will have to submit to the power of the greater. Or both can share the authority, but in doing so become all but utterly vulnerable to one another.

(Part 4 of 8)

"Few Gods choose submission. Fewer still choose to open themselves up in such a way. So the only option left is either to flee or to fight. Our Lord of Flames grows strong from the fires of war and by consuming the flesh of those touched with the gift of fire. Particularly of humans blessed with this affinity.

"This girl has been greatly blessed with this power. Far exceeding that of any mortal we've ever known. And so, her sacrifice would greatly increase the power of our Lord. In exchange, he's promised to spare us and our families and greatly bless this girl's sister with the power of great smokeless fire, for her sister is the one who brought this Lord's attention to our village and sold out her own flesh and blood for this exchange."

Hearing these things evoked in the Lady feelings that she had never experienced before. Righteous indignation against this Lord of the Flames and the sister who would sell out their own flesh and blood for power.

And also great pity for the girl and her troubles.

But surprisingly, there was pity too for the men who, in a desire to save the lives of their families, were brought to such desperate acts.

"Where is this Lord of yours?" asked the woman.

"He dwells in the crooked tower, far to the west of here. But it's in our village that his Emmissary, this girl's sister, is holding our families hostage till we were able to find and retrieve this girl."

The Lady turned around to the little girl and knelt by her, reaching out to still her trembling form.

"Don't be afraid," she said. "No harm will come to you. Till I return, you can stay in my forest, where no danger can enter and the trees will care for your needs. I will go deal with your sister and then her Lord."

The little girl didn't know why, but she trusted these kind words that brought her tears of relief.

She also felt as though the branch of the Sakura tree behind her had come to life and was beckoning her to hurry into the forest. And so she did, after bowing, giving her deepest thanks to the kind stranger.

The Lady then turned to the men and said: "I extend this same protection to you and your families. But if you mistake that kindness for weakness, there will be no mercy found for you."

Then the leader of the men spoke. "But what can you do against our Lord? Even his Emissary commands the very power of the storms like a God. No mortal or minor spirit can stand against her."

"Bring me to her," said the Lady. The men were in shock, for she didn't hesitate for even a moment.

(Part 5 of 8)

"Did you not hear? The Emmissary-"

"Bring me. To her," repeated Lady. The men knew that it would not fair well for them if she had to speak thrice.

And so they agreed to take her back to their village.

For three hours, they walked with fear and trembling, not knowing what would take place. In their hearts, they said that perhaps this woman would be an acceptable sacrifice instead of the girl, and their families could be saved.

Then finally, when the men reached their village, they broke down and began to weep. For their families were tied to stakes. From the young children and babes to the elderly. Each was doused in oil and pinned to wood that was ready to burn.

The children cried as the elders in their family tried to reassure them. The villagers who witnessed these horrors about to take place stood silently and watched helplessly, terrified of the pink-haired woman in a long red cloak that stood in their midst and mocked the crying kids and their families.

"To think," she said. "That I grew up amongst all of you in the dirt that you call home. But now I'll crush you beneath my feet, but a mere step on the ladder of my greatness."

An aura of Electro energy radiated around her. And had one not known better, they could easily have mistaken her for a God.

Upon hearing the wailing men return, she spun around to mock them but stopped to glare at the stranger they brought back with them:

(Part 6 of 8)

An eerily beautiful violet-haired woman in an elegant robe with a Katana in one hand. Clearly enchanted with Electro. But not just enchanted, from where the woman stood, it felt as though that sword in the stranger's hand was birthed by lightning itself.

Who was this strange woman the men brought back with them? Perhaps she was a local witch or the daughter of a wealthy lord who was harbouring the sacrifice? Either way, the Emmissary did not look pleased and the violet aura around her flashed for a moment with envy's viridescence.

"Oh?" said the Emmissary. "Instead of finding that rat of a sister, you went to seek aid from... what is this thing? Some nobleman's daughter, perhaps by the looks of it. She had a few lessons from a samurai and now thinks she can take on the world? Or are you hoping she dies and that some petty lord will fight for you to avenge their daughter? Have you forgotten the power of My Lord?"

She stepped forward, and the ground beneath her feet trembled, bursting with violet light, bringing the villagers to their knees as though in worship. "Have you forgotten my power?" she added.

The men pleaded with the Emmissary to spare their families, even offering themselves in their place. But the Emmissary laughed. Laughed so hard and so high that it hurt their ears and bruised their hearts.

And on that day, for the first time since her awakening, the Lady of the Sakura Woods came face to face with true, undiluted depravity.

"You're the one selling off her sister for power?" she asked the Emmissary.

"And what of it?"

"You're not worthy of the title of sister," said the Lady of the Woods.

"Oh? And what will you do about it?" jeered the Emmissary.

(Part 7 of 8)

The Lady of the Woods drew her sword. "We'll have a duel to decide."

The Emmissary laughed. "A duel to the death won't go well for you!"

"To the death? I was happy merely to strip you of your power when you lost," said the Lady. "You don't need to lose your life."

Fury flashed across the Emmissary's face.

"You dare act like you have any power over me? Pathetic. You're nothing but a well dressed rat! In fact, I'll even let you take the first strike... if you can."

As she finished, a deep red violet aura surrounded her. The ground began to shake. And the skies above began to darken.

"Go on, you fool," dared the Emmissary.

"Just try it. But after your first attempt, I'll not show you any mercy. I will make you cry and beg to end your miserable life. But you will suffer to the bitter end and watch as I burn each and every one of these vermin alive. But it will pale in comparison to what's in store for you and my-"

Horror struck the Emmissary's heart. Before she could even finish speaking, quicker than she could blink, the Lady had gone and was now standing right behind her. Having moved through the barrier of the Emmissary's aura without detection or breaking it.

"Unlike you," said the Lady. "I am not a monster and have at least made sure that your death was quick and painless. Far more than you deserve."

The Emmissary looked around and couldn't believe her eyes. She was standing in place, yet at the same time she could see what looked like her body cut in half and lying at her feet. This body she was looking at seemed more solid than the transparent form she had now. And staring into her own face, she saw a pair of pink eyes looking back at her with a vacant stare.

"No...no... impossible... I can't be... I... I can't," the Emmissary whimpered. Then, as she began to cry, a strong and strange melodic wind came, wrapping itself around her, moving her presence away from her body till both the sight of her form and the sound of her wailing had utterly faded from world.

At first, the villagers were afraid, but seeing the stranger being gentle with them, reassured their hearts that she meant them no harm.

(Part 8 of 8)

"'Come, all of you, and rest in my woods, where you'll be safe from mortal peril and from the wrath of the Lord Fire who dwells in the West," she told them. The villagers soon gathered their things and were astonished at the enchanted forest that appeared before them. Even more astonished to find that the Electro energy that was used to torment them, was now a source of life, beauty and comfort.

After a few months, they fully settled in well and began to call their new home" Inazuma no Mori"; Lightning Forest.

Despite having led the people there, the Lady of the Woods seldom went to them in person. Instead, she left the day-to-day handling of their affairs and meeting with the people to her tw{... ...}ster, whom they would all continue to mistake for the Lady that saved them.

All of them except for one.

Akari approached the Lady of the Woods as she meditated in a quiet place, something that should not have been possible at this time. The Lady opened an eye, and seeing the girl approaching, she could only imagine that a mischievous kitsune that had gotten close to the Akari decided to share with her some of the deeper mysteries of the forest.

"I knew it," said Akari. "I knew there were two of you. I could just tell that you're different."

"Hmmm," said the Lady. "My {.....} is the nice and approachable one. She's better at dealing with the people."

"I think you're nice too. You just show it different," said Akari. "But maybe you can try show it some more, okay?"

Then the Lady of the Woods did something that she rarely did with anyone but her {....}. She smiled.

"Of course," she said. "I'll try."

Akari hugged the Lady of the Woods before scurrying off. An act that even surprised the Lady herself.

"Having a mortal body has its drawbacks and it can't last forever," her {.....} once said. "But it lets you experience a lot of little things that makes it worth having."

Perhaps this hugs was one such experience? The Lady thought to herself.

Either way, she would fight to protect the Forest of Inazuma and make sure it was a world where Akari, and many Akari's after her would always feel safe and happy enough to share hugs.

Despite wanting to treat her sword techniques like an art to improve her use of this new body in a way she finds enjoyable, the Lady would also raise her sword to answer the mysterious Edicts of the Heavens. To grow her power not by wicked means but by protecting those under her care. To keep them safe so they could fulfil their ambitions, dreams, and desires. To fight against any creature, mortal or divine, that would threaten the peace of Inazuma Forest. Even if it meant one day, when she was strong enough, having to stand against the Heavens themselves.

That Inazuma and its people may stand against the erosion impressed upon this world. To remain and flourish in it for all of time and eternity…

[phantomknights]

Interlude Chapter - One Step Towards Heaven

Requirements: Reach Adventure Rank 40. Complete Archon Quest Chapter II - Omnipresence Over Mortals.

Objectives:

-Take a stroll through Inazuma City

-Investigate the jeering crowd

-Talk to the lead performer

Inazuma City is as lively as ever when you walk through the busy streets of Tenryou that afternoon. After quelling the crisis in Fontaine, you and your loyal traveling companion decided that you deserve a relaxing break, and since it's been a while since you visited the nation of eternity, Inazuma became your first stop on the vacation trip. True to its ideal, it seems exactly as you left it; thankfully, there were no further catastrophic events while you were away.

Paimon’s head bobs to and fro as she floats along beside you, caught up in enjoying the scenery and, surely, the delicious scents of various restaurants and street vendors.

You feel a tug on your scarf—when you turn, Paimon is staring up at you with big, shiny eyes and pointing over at Shimura’s, which seems to have a couple seats open. She says nothing, instead she only whimpers pleadingly. With perfect timing, her stomach gurgles for emphasis.

It couldn't hurt to get lunch, you figure as you nod and take a seat in front of the counter. It's already been a few hours since breakfast, after all. You let Paimon indulge in the establishment’s signature tonkotsu ramen, and for yourself you order a helping of yakisoba.

Paimon eagerly slurps down a mouthful of noodles, letting out a satisfied aahh. “It really feels like it's been forever since we've been back in Inazuma, don't you think, Traveler?”

Shimura seems to take note of this and strolls up to your seats, smiling with a crinkle in his brow. “Back to visit, eh? If you’ve been gone for a while, might I recommend something interesting to see on your trip?”

Her eyes light up and she gasps so quickly she coughs on another bite of noodles. Sheepishly, she wipes her mouth, then she grins at the restaurant’s owner. “Something interesting? Like what?”

“I hear a local kabuki troupe is performing downtown,” Shimura says. He raises a finger to point down the street, and Paimon promptly turns to look. “See that street there, by the bridge? There should be a stage set up by the bend. I can't quite recall the troupe’s name, but I know they haven't performed around here in about a year. I’m not sure if stage plays are you younguns’ style, but I would certainly have a look myself if I weren't stuck here running the shop.”

Paimon hums, a hand resting contemplatively on her chin. “Hmm… Aren't kabuki plays really long? We’ve probably missed a bit of it by now.” She turns to you, head tilted inquisitively. “What do you think, Traveler? Should we go watch an act or two?”

You've never seen an Inazuman play before. It might be a nice refresher from the Fontaine-style courtroom dramas after… everything. You're still processing that, honestly. You nod to Paimon, and she cheers.

“Alright! Thank you for the recommendation, Grampa Shimura!” With that, she goes back to devouring her ramen with even more ferocity than before—how is she even holding the chopsticks properly with those tiny hands?!

When the two of you are done eating, you bow goodbye to Shimura and set off down the street. Before you can turn the corner by the bridge, though, you start to hear… booing?

Paimon crosses her arms, appearing to have noticed it too. “Do you hear that? Is that the play? That's really weird, let's go see what's going on.”

You pick up the pace and soon you take sight of a sparse crowd in front of a small stage. On the stage are two actors in elaborate costumes and makeup, and off to the side in clothing colored to match her surroundings is a girl playing her shamisen. Some of the spectators are jeering profanity, and yet the performers dance on, expertly exchanging choreographed blows and reciting their lines with perfect timing.

There must be some kind of cue that you miss, as one actor, the smaller boy with green and red hair, pivots on his foot mid-spin and defiantly raises his prop sword. “Foul beast of the Abyss!” he declares, landing in a cool action pose. “In the name of the Almighty Shogun, I will vanquish you! May all vile monsters of darkness remember my name and shake in fear—for I am Takamine the Mistsplitter!”

The boy on the other end of the stage, whose costume is starting to look more like a very detailed puppet, raises his “claws” and lets out a booming snarl. As his foot slams to the floor, you feel your surroundings just slightly shake, and only then do you notice the Vision discreetly tied to the actor’s thigh on his side facing away from the audience. A Geo Vision, to be precise; that would explain the creative practical effects.

Both actors strike at the same time, blade meeting the monster’s claws, until a loud CRACK! sounds and the sword falls to pieces.

Paimon jumps at the loud noise and clings to your shoulder, and thanks to her you snap out of your captivated state long enough to realize that everyone else is still booing.

The play goes on in spite of them, with “Takamine the Mistsplitter” trying in vain to defend himself with only half a sword. You already know how this story ends, having learned nearly every detail about Inazuma’s battle with the Abyss on your various adventures. Still, there's something fascinating about seeing someone act it out, hundreds of years in the future. Keeping these people's names and stories alive through art.

Eventually the crowd seems to get bored at the lack of reaction to their harassment and slowly disperses until only you and Paimon remain. At that point, the girl beside the stage sighs deeply, lays down her shamisen, and calls out, “Yuuya.”

“Takamine” turns to her mid-monologue, pouting a little in a manner that doesn't quite match his extravagant kabuki makeup. “I’m not Yuuya,” he chides. “I’m Takamine the Mistsplitter.”

“Yuuya,” the girl huffs again, “no one's watching. We're not going to get any viewers like this.”

Paimon whines, drawing both of their attention. Their eyes snap to her. “We were watching,” she points out, prying off of you to wave at them. “Paimon thought you were really good! And the guy in the monster costume was really scary!”

Yuuya beams, suddenly disregarding his script and hopping off the stage towards you. He wobbles for a bit on the landing, flailing his arms around a moment for balance (you hear Paimon try not to laugh) before he straightens, cups his hands behind his back and deeply bows.

“Why, thank you!” he declares as he rights himself up. “Costume design and scriptwriting are done by yours truly—Sakaki Yuuya. Say…” He tilts his head, leaning in curiously. “I haven't seen anyone like you two around here before! Might you be a traveler? I’m honored you took time out of your surely busy itinerary to stop and see our show!”

“A traveler,” the pink-haired girl in back deadpans. “You can't be serious. You don't know them?”

Paimon oohs and turns to the pink-haired girl, then points at you encouragingly. “You've heard of us? This is the Traveler, and Paimon is Paimon!”

The girl stands and approaches with a hand on her hip. The other hand you barely see before she bonks Yuuya on the top of the head. “You don't know the Traveler?!” she berates him. “The Traveler who's been going around Teyvat solving crises left and right? The Traveler who's the reason you still have a Vision? That Traveler?”

“Oww,” Yuuya whimpers, rubbing his head. “No one told me about that! I was locked in trying to not get my Vision taken!”

“So was I, and even I know what happened!”

The girl clears her throat, straightens, and bows to you politely. “Hiiragi Yuzu, very nice to meet you. Please don't mind him. He's a bit of a dolt.”

“Am not!”

She elbows him.

“And over there”—she gestures towards the other actor, disassembling the puppet as you talk—”is Gongenzaka. We're the You Show Kabuki Troupe. We do shows here in the city every now and then.”

“Looks like a lot of fun! But, um…” Paimon twiddles her thumbs. “If it's not rude for Paimon to ask, why was everyone booing? Paimon thought you guys were good while you were up there.” You nod in agreement with Paimon.

Yuuya and Yuzu wince almost in sync, and you hear Yuuya sucking in a breath through his teeth. They share a glance, and Yuuya gives the slightest nod before looking back at you, shoulders visibly tensed.

“You really wanna know?” he prompts before going any further.

Paimon nods fervently. “When you say it like that, Paimon only gets even more curious!”

“Alright. Let me tell you about my dad…”