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thisgirlnamedblusy · 5 months ago

Text

Flowers

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Gardener! Reader

Warnings: Drugs? (Idk how to tag the flowers stuff :S), fluff, a bit of angst, reader POV

Word count: 6,352

Summary: She warned me about the flowers but... With them, I can be with her

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting for yours :))) I love you all!!!

I never went near those flowers, until they were the only way to love you.

I woke up like every morning, in that old cabin. I didn't know what had happened to my predecessor, but I assumed what happened to everyone close enough to that place.

My skill with plants was no secret in the village. Envy? Sure, should I have felt lucky? I couldn't say.

When Mother Miranda, in her infinite goodness, entrusted me with a job, I couldn’t, nor I wanted to, refuse. No one needed my gardening skills. No one seemed to care, no one except Donna Beneviento.

Apparently the gap left by the man I replaced was too big. A large plot of land, a large garden that just one woman was incapable of maintaining.

Yes, the job had its perks: a house to myself, all the free time I wanted, and good pay. I wondered why people were so afraid of Lady Beneviento.

Well, I couldn't really say if she scared me or not. I barely saw her.

From time to time, she would walk with her doll through the garden, I assumed to check that I was working, that I was useful to her. Try to seem helpful, (Y/N)… That was the advice my father gave me before I left. That and to be careful with the flowers. Luckily, I was good at my job, and… Well, I couldn't complain.

“Hey! You,” I shouted, pointing at a naughty rabbit that was threatening to eat some plants.

I was used to vermin making my work difficult, but that particular animal had been bothering me for a while. I couldn't just finish it off, but I could at least get it away from the garden.

“Gotcha!” I shouted, launching myself after it, falling in the snow with empty hands. The damn rabbit escaped again and I growled angrily. “You'll see when…!”

I couldn't continue talking, since in front of my face were those strange yellow flowers, the flowers that Donna Beneviento herself warned me about.

“Oh...” I sighed defeated, knowing that it was inevitable to inhale that pollen, at that moment the question was: What was going to happen to me?

I stared at the strangeness of those flowers. It could have been the end of me, the poison would have eaten away my lungs and I would start convulsing at any moment. But that didn't happen.

“Honey, are you okay?” A strange voice, one that I never thought I would hear again made me wake up from those ramblings about my possible death. I recognized it immediately, but I couldn't believe it.

“Mom,” I sighed as she helped me up.

There she was, the woman who gave me life, my mother, in front of me, on that sinister ground, looking at me with that smile, with that tenderness. I wish I could say I was happy. But no, she just couldn't be there.

“(Y/N), how beautiful you are... You've grown,” she whispered with that voice, with that same voice. I shook my head at the impossibility of what I was seeing.

No, my mother couldn't be there, talking to me. She died, she died years ago.

“No, it's not possible,” I murmured slowly, reaching out my hand to touch hers. It wasn't a mirage. Whatever it was, was physical, tangible. I could feel the same rough feel of the dress she always wore, the subtle scent of the cookies she always made for us. It couldn't be an imposter, it was her. It was my mother.

Oblivious to all the signs that told me that this couldn't be happening, I obeyed my instincts and hugged her, hugged her tightly, wishing for a moment that she couldn't do it, that my arms would only touch the air.

But no, it was not an illusion. I could feel the comforting warmth of her embrace as I dissolved into tears.

“Mom... I've missed you so much,” I cried on her shoulder, letting her caresses serve as a consolation for the confusion of that moment.

“Me too, darling...” She whispered, letting me sink into her body, letting my emotions completely overflow me.

“But, but it can't be...” I said sobbing, with a smile. No, it was not possible and I knew it, would I have died?

Suddenly a draft of cold air made me shiver, causing me to feel dampness on my forehead and to have chills.

When I opened my eyes, my mother was no longer there, nor was I outside. I looked around to try to get my bearings. I was at home, lying on the couch, with a wet cloth on my head. What had happened to me?

There were noises in the house, movement that told me that I was not alone.

“Who, who is there?” I asked, sitting up. The answer was immediate.

It wasn't difficult to recognize the dark figure as it approached me. Donna Beneviento, Lord and owner of the land where I worked, approached slowly, with a cup of tea.

“You're awake,” she whispered with a hoarse voice, with a voice I had never heard before. I shook my head, confused

“Lady Beneviento,” I said in a formal tone, blinking several times in case that it was also a dream.

The woman in black nodded, coming closer, standing right in front of me.

“Here, it will relieve your headache,” the lady said softly, offering me that cup of tea.

I was confused. It wasn't common to see Donna near me, much less hear her talking, but that wasn't the important thing at that moment nor was to know what she was doing in my house.

“Thank you,” I said kindly, taking the steaming cup from her hands, which immediately retreated when they felt mine very close to them. “What…? What happened to me?”

“I was taking a walk and I was surprised you were not here, so I looked for you and well, I saw you lying in the snow, you had fainted,” the lady explained, sitting on the couch, as far away from me as possible.

“Have I fainted? I don't remember...” I said confused, bringing that cup of tea to my lips. To have a conversation with her didn't even seem strange to me, I had just seen my dead mother after all.

“I warned you not to go near those flowers, (Y/N),” she said after a few moments of silence. I opened my eyes and looked at her, well… I looked at the black cloth that covered her face.

“Flowers? Oh, I...” I said with a broken voice, trying to put things in their place, trying to think what exactly had happened. “It was, it was an accident. I was chasing a rabbit and well, I tripped and...”

“An accident,” she repeated, with a suspicious tone.

“Yes, an accident,” I reaffirmed, making clear that I didn’t ignore her warnings. “By the way… What happened to me? I, I felt strange and...”

“They are not ordinary flowers, (Y/N), they have special properties. I imagine you've noticed,” she explained without much desire to talk, probably wanting me to go back to work so she could leave that place.

“I...” I sighed, remembering that hug with my mother, her impossible presence… “I saw, I saw my mother.”

“Your mother?” The woman in black asked, this time with curiosity.

“But, but it can't be possible... I... She, she died and... She was there... It was so real,” I said, wanting to know what exactly had happened, what those flowers did to me.

The woman sighed, shaking her head.

“It's what flowers do. What you saw was a hallucination,” she said with a whisper, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Definitely, just as the villagers had told me, human relationships were not exactly Donna Beneviento's strong suit.

“No, but...” I said, denying to myself that my mother was never there. “It… It was so real…”

“It wasn't, (Y/N),” Donna said briefly, playing with her hands, nervously, before bringing one of them closer to my face, placing it gently on my forehead. “It seems that you are better.”

Her warm hand on my frozen forehead sent a contrast of emotions through my body. It was a soft, delicate hand that barely touched me, but it stirred something inside me.

“Yes, I... I don't know what to say,” I said, lowering my head and looking away from hers, as if I had been embarrassed by something.

Okay, it was true that I haven’t got been a woman in my life for a long time but... But that didn't mean that I had to feel something every time a woman touched me, and even less... With her.

“Just tell me that you will never go near those flowers again,” she said, moving away from me a little, as if she had felt something similar. “You are a good gardener, I don't want to lose you.”

“Oh, no, Lady Beneviento, you won't lose me,” I stated, with a tone grateful for that strange concern.

“People live in their memories, in their whishes...” She explained with an enigmatic tone. “Flowers can revive them or even create them. But they can also make you feel horrible things. They can torment you.”

“I understand,” I said, letting the air out of my body slowly, disappointed. “Well… Thank you…” I said hurriedly, when the lady in black got up from the couch, walking like a ghost toward the exit. “…For, for taking care of me. I promise that I will be more careful Lady...”

“Donna,” she said, interrupting me, as if something had offended her. “My name is Donna.”

“Okay, Donna...”

I was still confused by what had happened. I disobeyed a direct order, but there were no consequences beyond that encounter. I looked out the window, watching this strange woman disappear from my house. It had all been so strange... The feeling of my mother's hug continued filling my mind with that comforting warmth.

I know I shouldn't have done it, but the voices that begged me to feel that way again spoke much louder than my common sense. I got up slowly, finishing that infusion, and I took a breath.

“Wishes...” I murmured to myself, focusing my gaze on a small cluster of yellow flowers in a corner.

The feeling of having what I wanted, that the hugs of my loved ones sent some warmth to my cold existence, made me do something crazy.

I grabbed a cloth from the kitchen, a small empty flower pot, and I left the house with a clear objective.

I put the white cloth over my mouth and nose so as not to breathe in that damned pollen while I bent down to pick one of the flowers. I still asked myself what would have happened if I had been a good girl and hadn't made that mistake.

Everything seemed normal. The cloth had been enough to prevent me from hallucinating while, with a bit of soil, I transplanted that flower into the small pot, taking it inside my house.

My stupid mind thought that maybe, just maybe, those visions would help me fall asleep or not think about doubts or existential torments when it was time to close my eyes. I had seen my mother, damn it, my mother. I wanted to do it again. I succumbed to the temptation of living in dreams.

I put the pot in a glass display case and looked at that flower for a few minutes. How could a simple flower cause that kind of hallucinations? I, who thought I knew everything about plants, found myself at a dead end.

I spent the rest of the day looking through my encyclopedias. Nothing, nothing that looked like that yellow flower.

Then night came and I lay down on the bed. Not even the cold could distract me from my thoughts. My eyes went straight to the glass display case. When I wanted to realize it, something different to the flower came to my head. That woman, Donna Beneviento, fearsome Lords, lonely, inexpressive and dangerous. Her black figure appeared on my thoughts involuntarily; the sound of her soft voice, of that subtle but noticeable accent, the feeling of her hand on my forehead, of her black dress brushing against mine.

I shouldn't be thinking about those things, but I did, thousands of questions filled my mind, thus hiding the curiosity about that flower: who is she really? Why does she hide her face? Why is she alone? What makes her so dangerous? Is she really as crazy in the head as people say? Why do I have the feeling that she is a beautiful woman?

“(Y/N), but what are you thinking about?” I said to myself, rubbing my eyes with my hands, trying to forget the scent of lavender that accompanied Donna, which I now had in my head. “It will be, it will be better… To sleep.”

Before turning off the light, I took one last look at the display case. Do it, don't do it. Like two sides of my same consciousness, those two options appeared in my mind.

A foolish thing, since I began to walk towards the plant, ignoring the strong beating of my heart and lifting the glass cover. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, just for a couple of seconds.

Nothing happened and, shrugging my shoulders, I climbed back into bed.

I was wrong. It didn't take long for the visions to appear. My house was no longer my house, but my parents' house. It was Christmas, one of many before my mother left. I was happy, as if I were 9 years old again. After many sleepless nights, this time, I finally managed to fall asleep.

I knew they were nothing but hallucinations, but I felt good, relieved, as if I had been reborn and saw how wonderful life was.

Every day the same work, every night a different vision. Only happy moments came to see me, only positive and comforting emotions. I didn't understand how something that made me so happy could be dangerous.

On the other hand, the strange relationship I had with Donna grew a little. She continued to walk and look at me, but now, just sometimes, she came up to talk to me. They weren't deep conversations by any means but... Well, they were conversations. I couldn't say that I was starting to get to know her, but my strange interest in her grew little by little.

“Have a good trip, (Y/N)” I said with a smile, after breathing the pollen from that plant again, before going to sleep.

The walk was different. That night, I was walking hand in hand with the first girl I fell in love with. It was a wonderful feeling that suddenly stopped being so. We were sitting, Katia and me, me and Katia, on a stone bench. Our hands were intertwined and our gazes predicted a kiss that would not take long to come. Before feeling the warmth of another woman's lips, something strange happened.

The girl's old clothes changed, darkening until they were completely black. It was no longer Katia, it was Donna. I should have been scared, I should have screamed to wake up but... I didn't want to do it. The sensation was no different, a knot in my heart, the relief of her lavender perfume and… her soft hands brushing mine. I should have felt bad, strange, but I didn't. I felt good, I felt like I wanted more caresses, I wanted to be closer to her, I wanted... I wanted to lift that horrible veil and kiss her. I wanted it, I really wanted it. Was it the hallucination or were those strange feelings towards the lady in black getting worse?

“I want to kiss you,” I said in a sigh, leaning towards her, who laughed shyly, nodding.

“Me too,” she responded, letting my hands go to that annoying black fabric, lifting it little by little. Suddenly, before I could discover her face, a cold current brought me back to reality.

“What?” I said, waking up in my bed, ending that strange trip, the one in which I was about to kiss Lady Beneviento, wanting to do so.

At first I thought it was like another dream, a jumble of feelings, memories, and people, something random. I realized it wasn't.

The feeling I had in that vision was the same one I had when she approached me during the day, when she spoke to me with that soft voice, when she touched my shoulder with her hand, when my heart screamed for her not to go away, for to stay a little longer.

At night, her figure returned to torment me. Not in the way you might believe. Her hands with mine, her caresses, the love I had for leaning on her shoulder and hugging her. Everything was repeated every night, with every dose of pollen I inhaled.

There was only one problem. Those visions had an end. I never managed to remove her veil, I was never able to see her face, feel her lips on mine. I shouldn't have but... I started to feel desperate, I started to feel that it wasn't a good dream, but a nightmare, the torment of not being able to fulfill my wish, of not being able to kiss her and tell her that I felt something for her, even if it was just that, a dream, a hallucination.

“Why did you do it?”

A familiar voice woke me up one night. Just when I thought the effect of the flower had worn off. I recognized that soft tone, but there was no sign of its owner. I was alone in my house, but for some reason, I was convinced that I had heard it.

“(Y/N)...” The soft voice, her voice, called me again. It was out now, or so I thought. A dark shadow walked outside the cabin. Donna.

Happy to be able to relive those moments, those hallucinations, I chased her, but she didn't stop, which made me run, run until I caught up with her. I knew that road, the road that led directly to her house, to the old Beneviento estate.

My steps were automated and my eyes struggled not to lose sight of her dark figure.

“(Y/N)... Why did you do it?” That voice asked again, a voice that was lost in the sound of the wind.

Her figure disappeared at the door of the house and I... I ran desperately towards her, managing to grab her arm, managing to have her close to me again.

“Donna...” I sighed with a goofy smile. There was nothing that would prevent me from enjoying my visions as I wanted, so I didn't waste time, throwing myself into her arms, keeping her body very close to mine.

She stood still for a moment while I covered myself in lavender, while I stroked her back. Soon her arms surrounded my body as well, and, like every night, we melted into a tender, comforting embrace.

“I love seeing you every night,” I whispered in her ear, making her move away, subtly pushing and taking me by the hand, leading me into the house. My eyes shone with her presence, with her caresses in my hand. I sat next to her, determined to explore that figure a bit more, to delay the moment of removing the veil and returning to the harsh reality.

My hands traveled up her arms, the visible skin of her neck was next, making her laugh sheepishly as she felt my tickling. Her hand came together, caressing my cheek carefully, breathing heavily. I explored her body, she explored mine. It was as if we had just discovered each other, it was... Different.

“Bellisima...” She whispered through her veil. I frowned.

I had never heard her speak like that, but all it did was for my hand to travel under her veil, caressing one of her soft cheeks.

“Stop, (Y/N),” Donna said in a soft voice, grabbing my wrist to lower my hand, to leave her face.

I, convinced of what my next step was going to be, shook my head.

“Please, Donna... I want to look at you. I want to know how beautiful you are... I want to be able to kiss you,” I begged, finding myself at an advantage. It was my hallucination. It would have to obey my wishes.

My body trembled as it relaxed after a moment of tension. She nodded and I... I prayed to Mother Miranda to allow me to live in that dream a little longer, just a little longer, just long enough so that I could contemplate the beauty of her, just so I could get closer to her.

My hands gripped the fabric and my eyes squeezed tight. Please don't wake up… My mind repeated as I lifted her veil.

Afraid of finding myself back in my house, I remained with my eyes closed until I realized that her lavender perfume, that her agitated breathing, was still with me. I carefully opened one eye, then the other.

There she was. Donna had shown herself to me. My visions had mercy and let me stay to admire her beauty, a beauty that seemed hidden by that scar, by the lack of one of her eyes. What made you think you were less beautiful because of that, Donna? You were perfect.

“How beautiful you are,” I said, dazzled by that bright eye, by that half smile that she gave when she heard me say those words.

“I want to kiss you...” The lady in black whispered, grabbing my hands tightly, enjoying the sincerity of my words.

I, excited because that dream didn’t end, because I could see her beautiful face and now I was about to fulfill the greatest of my whishes, I closed my eyes and nodded, letting her take the initiative, curious to see how my subconscious acted in that moment, that long-awaited moment.

She moved, laughing shyly, as always. She leaned towards me and to notice her lips brushing against mine in a subtle way didn't take long. It was almost like just an air current. I had to make a huge effort not to get ahead, not to get carried away by my feelings. I wanted it to be her. I wanted Donna to kiss me first.

Her hand reached the back of my head, pulling it gently until finally, I could feel the warmth of her kiss. It was a simple, shy kiss, without movement, just enjoying the feeling of her lips on mine. I acted later, bringing my hand to her face, to her cheek while she deepened that kiss, while preventing everything from ending at its best moment.

Donna followed me, smiling against my lips, imitating my gestures. Was it her first kiss? It seemed like it but... Why would my subconscious imagine something like that?

“I have never kissed anyone,” she admitted shortly after our lips fought not to separate. Well, if that's what my mind wanted to imagine, there was no harm in doing it. It was better to think that I was the first than to imagine other lips on hers.

“Me neither,” I lied, taking advantage of the hallucination effect.

“I don't believe you,” Donna whispered, very close to my lips again, kissing them in a more determined way.

“You should believe me. I’m the owner of this dream,” I said amused, kissing her harder, with more desire, making her lie down on the couch.

“(Y/N), you must wake up now,” she said, when my kisses went down her neck, when my impatient hands passed over her chest, looking for a crack, a gap to get in and caress her body inside her dress.

“No, I don't want to,” I said, shaking my head, unable to separate myself from her.

It was the best vision I had so far, but a strange feeling came over me.

“What?” I said suddenly, opening my eyes to find an overwhelming truth. The dream was over.

I sat up slowly, reaching toward the nightstand, where the headache pills should be. They weren't there, neither my bed, nor my room. I wasn't at my house.

I uncovered myself scared, leaving the small room. I hurried towards the stairs and… I froze. Hanging on the wall, there was a portrait, a portrait of a beautiful woman, a portrait of Donna. It was her, without the scar, but it was her. How far can a hallucination go? How could I know what her face looked like if I had never seen it? And... Well, above all and most importantly... What was I doing in her house?

“Good morning!” A shrill voice brought me out of my shame and confusion. The Angie doll, whom I feared and appreciated at the same time, called me funny from below.

“Angie?” I asked confused, rubbing my head, wishing the pounding in my brain to stop.

“Good morning, (Y/N)” another familiar voice, Donna’s, said. The mourning woman appeared shortly after, with her hands in front of her body, with the veil on her face, looking at you with a stoic pose.

“Donna? What?” I stammered. “What am I doing here?”

She didn't respond. She simply motioned for me to follow her, where a table with breakfast was waiting for me.

Shame and uncertainty made my hands shake as I picked up that cup of coffee. I couldn't look Donna in the face. Did I go too far? Did the hallucination make me go towards the house? What was happening?

“I, I'm sorry but...” I said confused, with my face burned with shame. “I don't know what I'm doing here.”

“I saw you last night outside the house,” Donna responded, sitting in front of you, eating breakfast quietly. How could she be so calm? Please tell me it was all a dream...

“Me?” I asked, hiding everything related to the flower, and to my vision.

“Yes,” Donna answered, nodding at the same time. “You seemed confused. It was very cold so I took you inside the house and put you to bed.”

I couldn't help but sigh in relief. At least, everything that happened was just a vision, right? I didn't kiss her. I didn't caress her body... I didn't feel that good... At least in front of her, the real Donna.

“Well, I...” I said, hiding the tremor in my voice. I had to think of something, something to divert the woman in black's attention, something to tell her that I hadn't disobeyed her and that I hadn't spent weeks hallucinating with that flower. “The thing is…. I'm a sleepwalker,” I said, holding my breath.

“Uh-huh,” Donna whispered, pouring me some more coffee. She wasn't too surprised by that lie, but, apparently, she believed it.

“It happens to me sometimes, you know, I get out of bed and walk around... I probably forgot to lock the door...” I said, a bit more confident because, apparently, my excuse was more than enough to Donna.

“You should be more careful, (Y/N),” she said with a serious tone, but that gave away something that I was not able to understand. “It’s dangerous.”

What exactly was she referring to?

Luckily, routine returned to my life. Well, partly. The dreams continued. Kisses and caresses were already common. She kissed me and I kissed her. We spent the time the visions lasted looking at each other curiously, touching, caressing our skin. It was an innocent act, but one that I enjoyed every night. My obsession with that flower only got worse the closer I got to Donna in my dreams. But… The fear of returning to her house was present in my hallucinations. That fear of saying, of doing something dangerous, something I might regret, forced me to make a decision.

“Well, tonight I will have to see you only in my dreams,” I said listlessly, turning off the light on the table. If I spent another perfect night with her, I would end up going crazy.

At that moment I began to understand why those flowers were so dangerous.

I had a hard time falling asleep, resisting the temptation to get up and smell that pollen again. But I was strong, for once. I let reality control my actions, and not my whishes.

The creak of the door startled me. It was not a night with a wind strong enough to open it. Someone had entered.

Cautious and scared, I opened the drawer of the table, looking for the knife I had to defend myself from the creatures of the night. I couldn't have defended myself from that creature.

Donna, the woman in black, was there, walking slowly towards my bed. I was sure, completely sure that it wasn't a dream, that I didn't inhale that flower before going to sleep. She was really there, which sent a huge amount of thoughts into my head.

“(Y/N), cara mia...” She whispered, sitting on my bed and stroking my hair. I, confused, decided to pretend, to pretend to be asleep. “Will you come with me?”

She extended her hand toward me, and then I understood. That way of calling me, that hand holding mine. It had all been a hallucination but... I couldn't say when it stopped being one. It was real, Donna was there. Donna was always there, taking me to her house, making me stay enthralled with her kisses, with her caresses. I was dreaming, delirious, but... Not as much as I thought. The kisses, the caresses, the words of love... All of that was real, real to the point of wanting to die of shame, of not knowing how to act.

That was not a vision and I didn't know what to do.

She kissed me. She told me how beautiful I was. Did she really mean it? Did Donna want something from me? Did she feel something for me the same way I did? Did she take advantage of my confusion to feel loved? No, that was not a possibility. She never went beyond kisses. Her caresses were tender and respectful. She probably just wanted to know what it felt like when someone loved you. I couldn't blame her for that, especially because I was madly in love with her.

Faking it would be my best option. Observing what she really did with me, if it was a product of the flower, or on the contrary she made me feel as good with her kisses, as always.

I sat up slowly, taking her hand. I followed her like a zombie, like every night, towards her house.

The sofa was still there, waiting for us. I sat down. She sat down, without letting my hand go.

At that moment I wanted to be aware of everything. The walls weren't blurry, the feeling of euphoria was less, but my heart was beating fast when she took off her veil and her lips kissed mine. I was stupid. Her kisses had never felt so good, so real... That flower served no purpose other than to blur the sensations that being close to her produced in me. I, acted as always, kissing her back, cupping her pale, soft face in my hands.

“I can't live without your kisses...” Donna whispered in my ear, making me shiver, pretending to explore her body innocently, like every night, every night I thought I was hallucinating.

“Me neither...” I whispered back, kissing her intensely, running my hands through her tied up hair, touching, exploring now with all my capabilities. The heat of her kisses, the touch of her skin. A stupid hallucination had nothing to do with reality.

“I would like to think that you love me...” She said, smiling in a sad way, moving away, but without letting my hand go, which was wandering along her neck, across her chest, as if it wanted to guide me where was needed.

“I love you,” I said without thinking, affirming my feelings towards her, being sincere, confessing something that, in other circumstances, I would not dare to do.

An even sadder smile spread across her face. What was she thinking? Easy, she believed that I was immersed in a hallucination, under the effect of that pollen. She couldn't think my feelings were real. That sent a pang straight to my heart. What should I do? Tell her the true? It seemed dangerous.

No words seemed good, it would be better to act. I threw myself into her arms, kissing her deeper, making her gasp in surprise, making her hands go to my head while I lay on her, kissing her neck, letting myself be seduced by her lavender perfume while I adored everything I could about her body.

“(Y/N)... You have to stop...” Donna said, nervous about how my hands went down to her legs under her black dress, about how I dared to caress her skin with desire. I didn't know what to do, and I decided that the best thing would be to truly love her, to make her feel loved.

“I would like to make love to you,” I said, faking that soft tone I always had in my visions, going to the buttons on the top of her dress. She shook her head, but only for a few seconds before kissing me back, letting my hand lift one of her legs, wrapping it around my waist.

The atmosphere became too hot. Donna was breathing nervously, unable to contain the urge to continue, clinging to the fabric of my pajamas, looking for a way to control the impulse to taking them off.

“No, I can't do it...” She murmured while my kisses had more skin available to kiss, while my hand opened the top of her dress to delight in her chest. “This… This is not right…”

“It is, Donna, relax,” I said, forgetting about acting for a moment.

She stood up suddenly, roughly pushing me away from her.

“No, (Y/N)... My, my first time can't be like this...” The lady said, getting nervous, sitting down and avoiding my gaze.

“Why?” I asked, studying her gestures.

“It's not you, (Y/N)... You just... Just...” Donna said, her voice shaking, blinking repeatedly.

Seeing the state Donna was in, I decided to act, do something stupid.

“Donna, listen to me, it's me, (Y/N)...,” I said, taking her sweaty hand, a hand that she suddenly pulled away. “I'm fine... I'm not hallucinating...”

“What?” She said scared, looking at me and getting closer, opening one of my eyes with two fingers, checking that I wasn't lying.

She immediately stood up from the couch, desperately searching for her veil.

“Hey, hey, Donna, wait,” I said, standing up, aware of the mistake I had made. “No, nothing is wrong… Don’t, don't cover yourself, please.”

“You’ve disobeyed me, (Y/N), I told you, I told you not to go near the flowers,” she said in a dangerous tone, her face covered again.

“Well I...” I stammered, unable to refute her accusation. “Hey, I don't think you're the best person to ask me for explanations.”

Donna became even more scared, knowing that I knew what she did, what we did.

“Go away, I don't want to see you again,” she hissed, pushing me unpleasantly and passing by my side, which I immediately prevented by grabbing her wrist.

“No, Donna, I'm not leaving...” I said firmly. “I'm not leaving until you listen to me.”

“I don't want to listen to you!” The lady in black screamed, clenching her fists, breaking free of my grip. “What are you going to do? What are you going to tell me? Are you going to tell your friends what we do at night? The way I took advantage of you?”

“What? No, Donna, I...” I stammered, unable to control her shaking, putting my hands on her shoulders. “It’s, it's my fault…”

"You know is not, (Y/N)” she said with a dark voice. “I, I confused you... I, I made you believe that...”

“I disobeyed you, Donna,” I said more calmly, contrasting with her almost deranged attitude. “I wanted, I wanted to continue living those pleasant things, I, I wanted...”

“What?”

“Damn, do you know why I kept inhaling that pollen, Donna? Because when I did it... I saw you... I saw you next to me...”

“Did you see me?” She asked, confused by my clumsy confession.

“Yes, I... I did...” I confirmed, lowering my head, letting her shoulders go, embarrassed. “I don't want you to believe me but I... I'm in love with you and... I knew… I knew that you wouldn't... That you would never love me back... So... well, my visions were the only place I could be with you. I shouldn't have disobeyed you but... I wasn't going to stop doing it if it was the only way I could love you.”

“Are you telling me the truth?” Donna asked curiously, pushing her veil away from her face, tears running down her cheek. “I don't... No one has ever... I don't... No, you can't love me.”

“I wanted... I wanted to stop having those visions and... When I found out that you felt the same way, I... I simply believed that it was the only way to...”

My words were interrupted by a kiss, a hurried one, tender, salty. Her trembling hands grabbed my head, her body was warm close to mine, her breathing stopped being agitated, the complete opposite of the beating of my heart.

“I thought the same...” Donna sighed, on my lips, letting her hands go down to my waist. The shadow of disbelief was still visible in her eye, but a different shine ended up overshadowing it. “(Y/N) you… Would you want to be with me?”

“Yes,” I said dryly, too abruptly. I was waiting so long... So long for you to ask me that question...

“No flowers...” she said, kissing me tenderly, letting our bodies sway together.

“You are my only flower...”

#donna beneviento #oneshot #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village

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undead-moth · 5 months ago

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Most of the criticisms of The Bear this season can be dismissed if we recognize that this season exists as a before to an after, which I imagine will be season 4.

People are saying that this season didn't advance the plot, or that nothing happened, or that it had no storyline - but this season had a very specific and very clear story arc take place. It just wasn't the one people wanted.

Season 2's finale refreshed the trauma Carmy endured as an upcoming chef under an abusive predecessor. The entire first episode of season 3 is essentially a montage reminding us of Carmy's past as a chef, and of that trauma, and the impact it's had on not only his mental wellbeing, but his understanding of what it means to be a chef or what it means to run a restaurant. Though he has parted from that environment, he's unable to stop himself from, or even recognize that he is falling into, old patterns. Carmy is caving to the idea that everything needs to be perfect, that everything needs to run at the highest possible caliber of excellence, and that the same environment he was abused in is the environment he must recreate in order to successfully run his new restaurant.

Meanwhile, the narrative is constantly reminding us that this is not the way. This is not the path that will lead Carmy to peace. And moreover, it is not what is, in reality, best for the restaurant, or what running a restaurant should be about.

In episodes 9 and 10 of this season, we have a lot of moments in which stock characters take center stage and are given unusually long opportunities to speak.

The beginning of episode 9 opens with a monologue from Martin Scorsese who is talking about film, and specifically the magic of filmmaking, which he explains requires honesty and spontaneity. Cicero talks about dreams, and how they start from a place of passion, and how if you nurture them, you can make an impact and change the world.

In the beginning of episode 10, an unnamed mentor of Carmy's speaks, and it's brought to our attention that this unnamed mentor was once in Carmy's exact place. He teaches him how to remove the wishbone from a chicken, and brings up making a wish with the wishbone as a child. He outright asks the question, "Why do cooks cook?" which is the overarching point of this whole show, but especially with this season, wherein Carmy loses sight of why cooks cook. Then this same chef explains that cooks cook to nurture people, to nurture themselves, to nurture their team, and to nurture their guests, and that it is enough to try to do just a little better than the day before.

Then many chefs are given the opportunity to speak at the funeral dinner for Ever, and each one of them offers different insights, really, on "Why do cooks cook?" One of these chefs compares cooking to magic, which brings us back to the Martin Scorsese monologue at the beginning of episode 9 and makes it clear that everything being said about filmmaking in that monologue is meant to be applied to cooking for the purposes of the narrative.

Then the floor is given to Chef Terry, who is the foil to the unnamed NYC head chef that abused Carmy, and for the purposes of this show, acts as the narrative's voice, delivering the message of this season. She begins her speech at the funeral dinner by mentioning that being the head chef of such a successful restaurant never happened in her "wildest dreams." She places a huge emphasis on the people she served, and says, "People don't remember the food. It's the people that they remember," which is in complete opposition to everything Carmy is currently believing is important about running a restaurant.

Then he confronts the NYC head chef, and this chef states rather explicitly that his behavior was justified because it made Carmy a better chef - and it's clear that to him, a chef isn't someone who nurtures or has passion for a dream or thinks cooking is magic. No, his idea of what it means to be a chef is being the best. He even says, "You wanted to be great, so you got rid of all the bullshit." Bullshit, in this case, referring to everything that wasn't the pursuit of being the best chef. Love, happiness, passion, etc.

Then he has his one-on-one with Chef Terry. She points out that the very reason she's closing her restaurant is because she wants to live - she wants the "bullshit." She continues to place an emphasis on the importance of people, who she worked with as a chef, and her hopes to meet more people in her retirement. When Carmy asks her what she would tell herself if she was in his place, she tells him that having no idea what you're doing makes you invincible.

None of this is by accident. None of this is aimless. There is a very clear message here, as well as a very clear character arc. In this season, the combination of losing Claire and opening a restaurant sends Carmy down a path of negative character development - negative character development is still development - in which he loses sight of what it means to be a chef and recommits to a belief system that once harmed him, and that he is now using to harm others, especially Syd.

At every turn, the narrative tells us, and Carmy, that this isn't right. This isn't the direction he should be going. And in the next season, or at least, in later seasons, Carmy is going to realize this. He's going to find his passion for cooking again, he's going to understand that it's about connecting with other people, and nurturing them, and he's going to accept that he can't be perfect, and that this doesn't make or break him as a chef, or his restaurant as a restaurant.

Meanwhile, Syd's own character arc is almost completely driven by Carmy's this season. Syd first applied to work at The Beef because she wanted to work with Carmy. She says outright that he is an excellent chef. He made her favorite dish ever. He is her idol. In this season, she is forced to grapple with the possibility that Carmy's behavior might be the reality of anyone who is that great, but also that if this is what it takes to be great, maybe she doesn't want it. Maybe she doesn't want to work with Carmy if this is what it means. Luca, another narrative foil, is meant to tempt Syd, because he so clearly values her as a chef, and currently isn't exhibiting any of the same toxic behaviors Carmy is.

This also plays an important role in their developing romance. While Syd has to determine whether or not she wants to work with Carmy, she will also, subconsciously, be determining whether or not she wants to be with Carmy. Does she want to be with someone who doesn't see her as an equal? Prior to this, even though Syd was clearly not cooking at the same professional level as Carmy, Carmy afforded her respect, and treated her like an equal even as she was growing as a chef. Now, because of the arc Carmy is on this season, that isn't the case. He is not respecting her, and he is not treating her like an equal.

I will bet anything that the story goes as follows from here on out:

Syd gets fed up with Carmy's behavior and determines that it's not worth it to work with him, that he's not who she thought he was. This in turn leaves the restaurant in pieces, because Syd was the only person holding the restaurant up this season. Carmy then fails miserably without her, and he's forced to realize - remember, really - how badly the restaurant needs her. He will also realize how badly he needs her.

Then it will be time for his redemption arc. He will have to earn Syd back. Eventually, he will earn her back, and when he does, he will demonstrate that he respects her, and sees her as an equal. Then it will finally be time to begin their romance, as both of them will see in each other exactly what they need in another person. At the same time, this is what will save their restaurant.

But. In order for any of that to happen, this season - the one everyone is pissed about for not canonizing SydCarmy and thinks had no plot and wasn't saying anything - needed to happen first.

This season was a very purposeful setup for the rest of the series. It all needed to happen in order for the rest of the story to happen. It should not need to be said that this isn't bad writing.

It's excellent writing.

#the bear #sydcarmy #no one is going to read this because it is too long but I don't care I'm sick of seeing rancid takes #long post

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velvet-vox · 3 days ago

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Why King Candy has been so underrated and misunderstood for a long time (Still is, but to a lesser extent)

(All the images in this post come from the video linked below)

Hi everyone; so, usually, I'm not a trend chaser, in fact, I completely missed out on the hype of the Murder Drones finale by not releasing something for the occasion, as I have been very busy this past couple of months, and still am, but I've decided to make a special, out of program post just for my new current hyper fixation, that being King Candy from Wreck-It Ralph, who, for the past couple of weeks, has slowly risen up to become my third favourite Disney movie villain of all time.

And all of that, as some of you might have guessed, happened because I watched @king-crawler 's two hour long video essay on the character and the movie that he comes from.

Needless to say, just like many others before, it inspired me to add my own two cents to the conversation, and talk about some points that I haven't seen mentioned anywhere else.

This is probably the only Wreck-It Ralph related analysis that I'm ever going to make.

I even thought about scrapping this whole analysis, because midway through development I thought that I was just spewing out nonsense, but I kept going because some of my points may give food for thought to someone who understood this character way better than me.

I may reblog some analysis/art posts of this character, but I'm not going to turn WIR into a staple of my blog; however, if I see a lot of people in the comments or the reblogs adding stuff or points to my arguments, I could always make a sequel post to this one.

But first, I need to get something out of the way immediately.

Spoilers below the cut if you never saw this movie, kind of important, as it is the movie's major plot twist:

King Candy is Turbo.

Who's Turbo? Watch the movie.

With all that said, enjoy the read, I'll now elaborate on the meaning of my title, also, here's the video in question; I highly encourage everyone to check it out, as it is a way better sequel to Wreck-It Ralph than the one who was lost in the depths of Lake Laogai:

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Clarifications:

Wreck-It Ralph is an amazing movie, but one for which I've never had much to think about.

Don't get me wrong, I always considered it to be the smartest Disney movie ever made since my first watch, but I saw it for the first time relatively late, after I had consumed other Disney movies as childhood classics and other crossover movies featuring video game characters, so it never had neither a nostalgia nor hyper fixation factor as reasons as to why I should have put the story under a microscope after that.

Also, as Rando says at the beginning of their video, it is not a movie that blew me away after my first watch. Or the second. Or the third.

Why is this section important? It is important because these are my subjective opinions of the movie, which are unfortunately going to subtly influence what I'm about to say in one way or another, regardless of me trying to speak from a place of supposed "objectivity".

I'm really passionate about this world now thanks to Randomalistic, but you won't get the same vibe from this post as you would get from one made by long time fans of this movie.

Ok?

Good.

King Candy/Turbo has always been... in a weird spot for me.

Just like the movie where he comes from, I never really cared about Turbo until a month ago, despite always feeling like I should have loved him a lot more, especially since Deltarune chapter 2 released a while ago, and the character of Spamton G Spamton is someone for whom I have very strong feelings about; and Turbo, in a technical sense, is literally the spiritual predecessor of that guy (actually, Turbo is the spiritual predecessor of a lot of similar characters, he kinda was ahead of his time).

If I had made a Disney tier list for their movie villains, a completely subjective one for that matter, I would have put him in A tier, but thinking that he should have gone in B tier... while also feeling like neither were appropriate placements for him.

Randomalistic's video finally helped me fall in love with the character; so much in fact, that it got me thinking:

"Damn, if Turbo is actually this amazing of a villain, why was(is) he so underrated and overlooked by general audiences, when he admittedly is, in my opinion, one of the best Disney villains of all time? Frollo is by and large considered the best villain out of any Disney movie, and the HOND was nowhere near as successful as Wreck-It Ralph when it first released, so it can't just be a matter of first impressions (?). Maybe there are other factors, that stop audiences from recognizing Turbo as the Magnum Opus of villainy that he truly is..."

... And that's exactly what I'm going to discuss!

Let's get right into it.

The minor stuff.

First things first:

He's ugly. I'm sorry to all of the people who ironically and unironically simp for him, but that's a design only a mother could love.

On a serious note, KC and Turbo's designs always felt... not very eye-catching to me? (The bug form is excluded from this conversation)

I'm not saying these are bad designs, far from it; but each form has on them a certain amount of design decisions that, by the authors own decisions, make them unappealing to a viewer like me (I'm using myself as reference point because the topic that I'm talking about is inherently subjective).

Starting off with King Candy, is design has to balance a lot of different aspects simultaneously: it has to be eyecatching, so that the viewer can pay attention to him as an antagonist, and believable enough so that the watchers buy the fact that he is the King of Sugar Rush and not someone else, but it also has to be generic and fake enough so that it can later on add up to the fact this is just a performance, a facade, a ruse, a costume, and not the real character, it also needs to be friendly enough so that the audience can be manipulated together with Ralph into believing that he actually is a good guy;

I could go on and on listing off all the amazing things, that the King Candy facade pulls off simultaneously, but exactly because the design has to feel real and fake at the same time, it also, by proxy, ends up feeling weird, and that inexplicable sentiment can end up alienating the viewers who are watching the movie and the ones who have finished consuming it without thinking too deeply about what the meaning of the KC's facade actually was.

In the case of Turbo's design, all the people working behind the movie did such an amazing job making him look as scary, ugly, alien, and deranged as possible, all the while keeping him relatively PG friendly; the result clearly paid off, but Turbo's ugliness is not as slick as the likes of Ratigan's, nor is it as nightmarishly horrifying as the Other Mother's.

The most nightmare fuel qualities of Turbo's design are hidden out of plain sight, which is basically a recurring theme with his character.

To put it in a funny way, his looks neither end up in the conventionally attractive territory that most other Disney villains fall into, nor do they grab the attention of the Monster Fu###rs crowd.

I have zero things to say about the Cy-bug form, but I do have a section later on where I talk about that entire scene in and of itself.

All in all, it might just be me, but the first impressions of this character's design don't really do him any favours when it comes to his popularity.

I now love both designs, but before, they just didn't click with me, and I think some other people might understand what I'm talking about.

Admittedly, I could have explained this section better, but these were mostly my personal opinions and they are not really important in the grand scheme of things, unless somebody else agrees with me, in that case I'd have to take a closer look at the situation.

Second of all:

The marketing.

To be honest, I feel like what really elevated all of the most iconic Disney villains into pop culture status was a joint push from the company and the artists to include these characters into more stories and products.

Like, sorry to all of the Oogie Boogie fans, but that character is barely in his movie and doesn't do a lot, and he wouldn't be nearly as iconic as he is if Disney didn't use him again multiple times after his first debut.

And the same can honestly be said for all of Disney's most popular villains; they got used multiple times in multiple different projects, that either kept them mostly the same, changed them with some unique twists (that change in quality, but that's up to you), expanded on their preestablished characters, or put them into unique situations that showcased just how versatile they are.

Kingdom Hearts, The House Of Mouse and Descendants are very obvious examples of what I'm talking about, but even appearances in lesser known stories like Lady Tremaine in Cinderella 3, Captain Hook in Jake and the Neverland pirates, or the entirety of Disney Twisted Wonderland help solidify these characters as pop culture icons;

All except Frollo.

Frollo is the only one whose hype and cultural recognizability wasn't built up by the company or the media in which he was featured, but by the fans of the original movie.

And despite Disney almost never used that character ever again after his debut, he, his movie, and Hellfire still get a lot of prise and are talked about classics to this very day.

Because Frollo is just that freaking awesome.

Turbo, on the other hand... is barely in anything.

Let's get the most obvious stuff out of the way first: King Candy is a relatively new character, released in an era where Disney was slowly starting to integrate the new, corporate ideals that we see today.

All of the villains that I've mentioned previously already became tried and true successes by that point, so even if the company doesn't care about having good villains anymore they still use their likeability because it has already shown in the past to bring in audiences.

It's also the main reason as to why Mother Gothel is used so rarely: King Candy, as the last truly great Disney movie villain (excluding Tamatoa, who's barely used anyway, and movies not produced by their main animation studio), arrived at a point in time when the company wasn't pushing for their villains anymore, and instead actively sanitized some of them in their new stories (you know what I'm talking about); therefore, Turbo, being actually incredibly dark on second look, and with no actual intention of tuning him down like Jafar because he hadn't already reached the iconic status by that point, had no reason to make any big appearance ever again or be paraded around as much.

There are some more reasons as to why Turbo likely doesn't have more stuff dedicated to him, like the fact that he is technically 3 characters at the same time, but I don't want to prolong this section too much.

So instead, how about we take a look at some of his other appearances outside of Wreck-It Ralph?

Let's see...

He has various cards in Lorcana, which is his most recent appearance, mind you;

He became a playable character in the 7th season of Disney Speedstorm, a game where I was hoping he would be the main villain, due to a variety of reasons, but hey, that's perfectly fine;

And he was mentioned multiple times in Disney Heroes Battle Mode, a game where he hopefully is the secret main villain, as it would pay off a large amount of story and design decisions chosen for that game, but it's probably just wishful thinking and unless the game's plug is pulled, I doubt we'll see him anytime soon.

Ok, it's more than nothing, but it's also not that special if you ask me.

But hey! At least he got a boss fight in a Kingdom Hearts game! That's more than Randall can say! He was a major boss in Union Cross... the mobile game... that you can't play anymore... and since KH adheres strictly to its own canon most of the time, it also probably means that we'll never get to play through the storyline of the first WIR in any future mainline game, and we're more likely to see a world based around the second movie instead.......

Yeah.

That seems to be it, unless I'm missing something huge (feel free to let me know).

This section is important because Cruella De Vil became one of my favourite Disney villains of all time not after seeing her in the original movie, but after I saw her in 101 Dalmatian Street, a niche show that almost nobody knows; so other medium appearances are important to these characters popularity, especially when not all of these villains are Frollo.

ALSO, PLUS 1+, I was originally going to cut this point, but I decided to add it anyway: the Italian voice actor.

After recently rewatching this movie in English, (I'm Italian, we in Italy translate the movies to our language because it's easier than learning an entirely different language for them), I have to really admit that Alan Tudik's voice performance really does a lot of heavy lifting for the character's memorability.

This is not to say that the Italian voice dub sucks or that King Candy's Italian voice actor does a bad job, in fact, the voices are actually quite similar to each other, it's just that Alan's performance has that small edge of hidden bitterness that really brings the character together; though I do prefer Turbo's Italian voice for its twist reveal: the more raspy, heavy tone of the actor really highlights the vicious, alien nature of his character, as well as the sense of dread that Vanellope is feeling in this moment; I encourage you to give it a watch.

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Again, this is extremely minor, and it really only affects me specifically, but don't worry, it's not going to have influence over the rest of this post.

These were just additional points and not the actual meat of my argument, so now I'll start discussing what I actually wanted to talk about from the very beginning:

Who is he?

I think that one of the main reasons as to why Turbo is so underrated is because we spend way less time than with most other Disney villains (before him) to know him as a person.

Think about it:

Most other Disney villains, or at least the most popular ones, all have moments where they are doing nothing to progress the plot, that are dedicated solely to get us to know them better.

Hades has several moments with his minions to show off his personality and anger, Jafar has silly little moments with Iago that show off his depravity, Maleficent has talks with her crow that make her more dynamic, Ursula has her introduction scene where she spies on Ariel and does nothing but talking, and Captain Hook... has 30% of his screen time dedicated to just that.

Heck, Hellfire, one of the most iconic sequences in all of Disney, is just a character set piece for Frollo, and it's arguably completely disposable, as it doesn't really do anything to progress the story, it just explores Frollo's character in deeper depth and that happens to make the big difference when it comes to him.

King Candy doesn't really have an obvious character centric moment, something easy for the audience to quickly latch onto: every time we see him, he is always doing something to push the plot forward.

Yeah, there's that small character interaction with the Donut cops when he gets glasses, and other small moments here and there, like the would you hit a guy with glasses joke, but nothing truly character-defying.

I also don't count King Candy's first scene as a character centric moment, as that's more of an introduction rather than an elaboration, but it is technically valid, even if it ultimately is just a facade that he puts up to serve his needs.

Speaking of which: the fact that most of what we see of Turbo throughout the story could be entirely fake is definitely something that I could use to make the argument in this section stronger, but I'd rather save it up for later.

Also, side note:

I think that the moment most dedicated to him only, to show off a different, "true" aspect of his personality, is when he is walking back and forth in the castle waiting for his cops to show up again.

This moment is so interesting on rewatch, as it is one of the few moments in the entire movie where I can safely say that Turbo is being 100% genuine and isn't putting up any facade whatsoever, as there really is no benefit to him appearing distressed in this situation.

In general, it's funny to think that Turbo's most genuine reactions are of fear.

Back to point one, do you wanna know why Maleficent was given a crow in Sleeping Beauty? The reason as to why was for her to have someone to bounce off, a way for the writers to showcase more facets of her character, and while Candy has Sour Bill, the movie never uses the relationship between the two to show off a different aspect of his character.

To be clear, I'm not saying that Turbo is a worse character than these other Disney villains, or that without these moments of calmness he doesn't work, one great example

Do you know that Calhoun in early development had a camouflage ability, meant to highlight how she hides her feelings but was scrapped because it made her harder to relate to? Well, let's just say that Turbo's entire character is a What If scenario where that idea actually went through.

It's a double edged sword: King Candy is so interesting because he is so mysterious and surprising all throughout the movie, but exactly because he has to be so mysterious, he is not a character as easy to understand as some of the other villains from the company; it's incredibly easy to miss out on just how cruel he is and the full scale of all the damage that he has done.

I, AM, .......the twist villain.

There's also something to be said about how popular to the conversation the twist that King Candy is Turbo became.

Everyone loves this reveal, am I right?

It may not be the best moment in the movie, but my god if it isn't hype, all thanks to the music, the lighting, the setup, yada yada yada....

But the identity reveal scene is to Candy what the Genocide Boss Fight is to Sans: it's the most impactful moment about his character, to the point where it becomes the entire baseline where most discussions are built around, which, more often than not, lead a lot of people to overlook other things about Turbo.

Let me explain: how many analysis videos have you seen where the person making it talks more about the setup and subtle hints present in King Candy's earlier scenes that slowly build up to the twist and less about the events happening in it?

The reveal is amazing, don't get me wrong, but if Rando's video didn't come along to dive deep into King Candy's earlier scenes with the twist already in mind, the true impact of what Candy had been doing throughout the entire movie up to this point would have been lost on me, and I can imagine someone else feeling the same, as me, casual enjoyer of WIR, have been conditioned to think of Candy more for his well planned out surprise, rather than for how that surprise makes the character more engaging (I hope this makes sense).

I also want to mention this video ranking all the different twist villains from Disney and Pixar where CellSpex says that the Turbo twist is useless, since the movie doesn't do much with it afterwards.

Now, aside from the fact that CellSpex is clearly in the wrong and she's missing the point, I think this lack of reconsideration highlights that casual viewers care more about the Turbo plot twist than they care about Turbo himself.

But honestly, I don't believe people focusing too much on the twist is that big of a problem, more so, the problem stems when you want to use the twist... to discuss something else.

Now, I think it's perfectly fine if you want to use Turbo to explain why other Disney twist villains don't work, but when the villains that King Candy is compared to the most are Hans, Yokai, and Bellwether, you kind of start to think that he is only the best of the worst, and not an actual amazing antagonist in his own right.

It may not be a message that was intended to be sent, but it is something that may subconsciously cling to someone's brain, especially when you consider that there might be a huge audience of people who watch these videos because they saw Hans in the title (wishing for the video to bash him), and have seen Frozen, Zootopia and Big Hero 6, but have never seen Wreck-It Ralph in their lives, and they get all their knowledge of Turbo from them.

It's exasperating, especially when King Candy has way more in common with renaissance Disney villains than contemporary ones.

Yes, through technicality, he is a twist villain, but he's more so a hybrid antagonist to be honest.

And even worse than people just grouping up Candy with a bunch of morons, as I've just discovered by reading a comment from this Turbo Tribute, is that some people apparently despise him for starting the Disney Twist villain trend: even if he's leagues better than his competition, the simple fact that you can attribute some of the blame for the fall of villainy onto him, is enough for someone to despise him.

King of the Cy-bugs (feat Rockotar):

Very recently, I've rewatched Rockotar's video analysis of the first Wreck-It Ralph, and when he arrived at the "Welcome, to the Boss Level!" scene, I decided to analyse all the possible reasons as to why he (and possibly many others, such as, admittedly, myself) wasn't as entranced by it as basically any other scene from the movie, who he had been praising non-stop up until this point.

And I think I understood why: aside from the fact that this scene is only a setup for Ralph's sacrifice (and I wished the actual boss fight to be longer and more creative), the Boss Fight is less of a climax for Ralph's journey and more so a character study for who Turbo/King Candy is.

In my opinion, this is the closest we ever get to a "villain at rest" moment with Turbo because in every other scene of the movie, King Candy is always doing something, he's always active and we never see him doing anything that doesn't coincide with his role.

And, paradoxically to what I've just said about this being a "villain at rest" moment, in this scene, he is still doing something and being active in the plot, only that this time, instead of advancing the story, he's holding it back from its conclusion.

This scene simplifies Turbo's character to his most bare bone essentials: he's a short-tempered jerk, a power hungry murderer, a virus; it's all pretty interesting stuff once you take a sweet moment to break it down.

However, there's a point that I briefly mentioned before that I want to bring up; this creature that we are laying your eyes upon, is now three different people all at once, King Candy (anxious, quiet and manipulative), Turbo (short-tempered, competitive and spiteful), and now this Cy-bug hybrid.

To reiterate what I've said before, if you don't think about it for long enough, you aren't going to understand who either character is exactly.

Because that's the big thing: all of his facades, implied development off screen and reactions are so well constructed that at certain points, it feels like we're following two different characters simultaneously, which fits perfectly with the narrative that so called "real" Turbo died and now he's no longer himself, but...

I'm scratching the bottom of the barrel to bring up other possible points as to why this character is so underrated, and the lack of a clear identity seems like a pretty obvious thing to me.

But that's only two out of the three characters I mentioned; we need to take a second look at the Cy-bug form, who, in many ways, is simultaneously the thesis and antithesis of his character.

In particular, there's one thing I want to consider:

There's this theory made by somebody else that says Turbo, upon getting eaten by the Cy-bug, didn't take over the animal's conscience and control his body, instead, upon eating King Candy, the Cy-bug took upon himself his mannerisms, meaning that, according to this theory, neither King Candy nor Turbo technically survived the encounter.

If we accept this theory as true, then that means that even during what is supposed to be a character study, the character that the movie is highlighting may also be just as fake as the act that was put up until this point, meaning that, in a sense, we never saw the real Turbo in the movie.

He was three people at once.

(Yes, I've been spamming this image everywhere, and I'll keep doing so because I can)

In Conclusion:

Turbo is, ironically and unironically, an incredibly subtle character, and that makes it extremely easy for a lot of people to overlook and miss out on the most subtle details and characteristics that make him truly exceptional;

Him being so deceptive and mysterious helps and hinders his popularity, as some either love the mystery surrounding him, others fail to get a good grasp on who he truly is and become disinterested.

He is, by design, a building block, a puzzle to be solved, a character to piece together, that makes him so much fun!

But also, if you aren't interested in putting the pieces together, then he may not be up everyone's alley.

I definitely feel like the best thing that Randomalistic did in her/their video on Wreck-It Ralph was create an easy jumping point for new fans/casual watchers of the movie to get insanely invested over the story and characters;

I'm sure it was incredibly easy for many other people like me to focus only on the most talked about aspect of Turbo, aka the plot twist, and overlook all the other things that were not as much in your face as that; I was blinded by the spotlight, and it made it hard to see the genius that was put everything else;

Now, thanks to Random highlighting King Candy's cruelty and repulsive behaviour, my favourite thing about Turbo is how he weaponized the "disability" of a child to marginalise and persecute her, discriminating her for it all of her life WHEN HE'S THE ONE WHO MADE HER "DISABLED" IN THE FIRST PLACE.

This man, is so HORRIBLE, and he deserves to be publicly exposed for all the heinous s##t that he did, not just for being the best of a bunch of villains who frankly he shouldn't even be attempted to be compared to.

Anyway, I hope someone had fun reading this. I definitely felt like I started to write this with some really good ideas that I wanted to share, but in the end, I feel like they weren't all that interesting to begin with.

Feel free to share your own opinions, and have a great day!

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bodiesbodiesbodiesx3 · 2 years ago

Note

wait, genuinely, what's the black history behind dyke? i've never heard anything about it, so i'm genuinely curious to learn, if you don't mind explaining? (completely fine if not!) (also apologies if i worded the question a bit weird, wasn't sure how else to say it)

it's fine, its fine!

So consider this a LOOSE timeline, like loose, I had to research this for cultural studies

In the 1920s, around 1919-1921, "bulldyking' and bulldyke, both of which are considered to be dyke's predecessor was heard and noted down by white professors to be AAVE, specifically used by black women with the first woman to use dyking around being a (black) woman from a Harlem prison. However, bulldyke has been recorded far earlier than that in the black community with Harvey Neal as it was their nickname and was mentioned in the 1890s as a woman won their affections. Knowing the meaning of Bulldyke, Harvey Neal was most likely a black butch lesbian of their era and was also recorded in 1906's Human Sexuality as vert specifically being the speech of Philadelphians (historically black) and Backcountry Black Americans, reaffirming it as AAVE.

In 1926, Nigger Heaven was released and written by a white man based around the black people of Harlem, specifically around the Harlem Renaissance and was the first time Dyke as a term was used to mean lesbian, coming from the shortening of bulldyke or more particularly, BD Woman (bulldyke woman). This was the true first instance of dyke ever being used to mean lesbian in any instance.

It was then recorded in the 1930s in the American Slang Dictonary as an alternate term for lesbian and during that era, wasn't even considered a slur but simply black people slang.

Dyke became a slur during the fifties when white people and this unfortunately includes white sapphics of that era began using it as a slur against black lesbians (and other lower class lesbians but this often again mostly is black people of that era) and in thw 60s, was used against all lesbians because of association of black masculinity and then merged to lesbianism as a whole.

It was ""reclaimed"" in the 1980s but with reclamation, came erasure. Most non-black sapphics in that era simply refused to acknowledge its history if they were aware and any connections we had as black lesbians were lost outside the black community because it meant acknowledging the origins. This is where the alternate etymologies began showing up.

#rikka.txt #lesbian #long post #queer discourse #answered

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jotun-philosopher · 6 months ago

Text

A narrative clothesline

The following ramble isn't what I think is *likely* to happen in S3; it's more of a narrative clothesline that my brain has constructed almost completely independently of any conscious effort on my part, influenced by various metas and my own and others' speculation, and it serves as a thing onto which I can peg images and vignettes and headcanons that I really like. (My brain is a very interesting place and tends to make stuff up without me noticing...) This gets VERY LONG, so have a bookmark handy!

Wackiness under the cut! Also torture, psychological abuse, violence, PTSD -- tread carefully.

Now, on with the motley!

***

Long, long before any sort of beginning, eons (if such temporal vocabulary makes sense here, given that time hasn't been invented yet) before a certain flame-haired starmaker realised he needed a hand with his blueprints, the Archangels Raphael and Azrael become suspicious of the Metatron and his interpretation of the Great Plan, becoming the first two angels *ever* to question when they start probing his motives. The Metatron takes great exception to this, and by the time he's finished with them, there isn't enough left to make two whole angels. Scenting a possibility for experimentation, he stitches these remnants together into a single new angel of lesser rank, who he hopes will be more compliant and biddable.

...Okay, you can stop laughing now.

[Main Titles]

See, in modern times (a couple of months or so after Gabriel's shock resignation), the Supreme Archangel "Raphael" -- resplendent in elaborately draped robes of Heavenly white (difficult to run or defend oneself in) with wide bands of elaborate gold decoration at the wrists and high collar (which, looked at another way, resemble symbolic chains) over bare feet (terribly angelic, but a classic way to humiliate captives while making it harder for them to flee). The overall effect is of regal, ethereal magnificence and dignity -- unless you know the full context, in which case the clearest impression is one of mockery, contempt and "We own you -- mind, body and soul -- and can do what we like to you with absolute impunity. Think about that before you consider rebelling."

The facial features and shock of fluffy white hair are heartbreakingly familiar, the utterly blank facial expression and stiff, upright demeanour less so. His voice, when he speaks, is many octaves below the 'soft bookseller' tones one might expect. Also unusual is "Raphael"'s tendency, when unobserved, to stare into space while touching his mouth or fiddling with a mysterious silvery trinket; otherwise, he goes about his duties in the manner expected of an Archangel, knowing only what he needs to know to prepare for the Second Coming. Which means that when his predecessor in post and a former Duke of Hell sneak in via an unregarded rear entrance to plant bugs, "Raphael" doesn't notice or react to them at all!

Cut to Crowley sprawling on a bench in some rural area, brooding deeply and looking portentously undisturbable (his native optimism is taking a while to rev up after the recent emotional whammies). When someone unexpectedly stands between him and the sun, he starts to snarl at them, only to be interrupted by a cheery, "Party name of Crowley?" Crowley leaps up, startled, accusatory and hostile, but the International Express delivery guy hastily clarifies, "It's ok, sir, just a mundane delivery -- but the lady was very specific about where to find you." Crowley (recognising the style) simmers down enough to take the letter with some grumbled thanks, opens it and is stopped in his grouchy tracks by a reference to the body swap that could *only* come from someone deeply familiar with the Nice & Accurate Prophecies.

Attention thoroughly caught, he scans the rest of the letter, swears in ancient Sumerian and bolts for the Bentley, nearly colliding with four startled, nervous-looking angels in militaristic garb. Crowley reaches for his crank handle, but then notices odd details -- the large wooden box one of them is holding, the dishevelled state of the uniforms, the insignia, all four of the angels bowing to him with deep and genuine respect... "Hang on, you lot are from Aziraphale's old platoon, aren't you? What the blazes are you doing here?"

The angel holding the box stutters in fright for a few seconds, but manages to get out, "Th-The L-T... He's...not exactly dead, but we're not sure what the Metatron did to him. W-whatever it was, it was bad, so we, that is the platoon, got together and drew lots and we gathered all the L-T's personal effects we could find and deserted..." The angel proffers the box to Crowley, while one of the less-intimidated angels explains, "You're effectively the L-T's next of kin, the whole platoon saw him desert in favour of you during the last go at Armageddon, and we've decided we respect him and you more than we fear the Metatron."

Crowley is very impressed, and says so. "But what about the rest of you?"

"They're back Upstairs, keeping watch over the L-T in case of untoward developments."

"Rrrrright... Oooooookayyy... I take it, then, that you're willing to take orders from me until the Second Coming is foiled?" The deserters nod. "Right, in that case -- you know where the Bookshop is? Meet me there, but don't teleport directly; it's too easily traced." The deserters salute crisply and set off flying, while Crowley climbs into the Bentley and takes a moment to investigate the box. It does indeed contain Aziraphale's clothes and personal effects, and he spends a couple of minutes just holding the familiar old waistcoat against his cheek and inhaling its scent, before starting the engine and veering off at speed. He's so awash with emotion that the one item missing from the box doesn't immediately register...

Back in Soho, things are fairly slow in Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death, so Nina's got time to chat with the customers. They're interrupted by the sound of a recklessly driven 1933 Bentley blaring Velvet Underground dopplering up the street in their direction. The Bentley turns within its own length and slips neatly into position outside the Bookshop, before disgorging a goth-punk redhead and a snatch of vocals -- "RUN RUN RUN RUN RUUUUN". The redhead slams the door, hefts a large box under his arm, yells, "FUCK THA SECOND COMING!!!!! HAHAHA!!" skyward (with accompanying hand gestures) and swaggers into the Bookshop as if he owns the place. Following a stunned silence, the customers ask, "Who...was that?" Nina replies, "Oh, that's Mr Crowley. He's one of our local, uh, characters. Basically co-owns that bookshop with his husband."

Inside the Bookshop, Crowley calls, "Oi, Muriel! You there?" and is answered by a nervous squeak from a pile of books on the mezzanine. He leaves the box by the till, bounces up there and glances from the haphazardly stacked volumes to the extremely worried scrivener hiding behind them. Plopping comfortably on the floor, he asks, "Lord of the Rings, eh? [waves the book in question] How're you getting on with Tolkien?"

Caught a little off-guard by Crowley's sudden appearance and friendly demeanour, Muriel replies, "Um.. I-I-I... It's good, but I found it a bit overwhelming. I-I liked the bit about the elves only guarding their forest, not ruling or owning it, though."

"Yeaaah, Tolkien's style can be a bit much if you're not used to it. He was a pretty interesting guy, though, great linguist. You'd've liked him. Anything else grab your interest?"

Muriel brightens up a little. "Yeah! The Discworld stuff is great! There's so much there to think about that I hadn't even considered before! There was this bit in one of the later ones, about sin being treating people as things, and um, I..." Crowley gestures for them to continue. "Well, it got me thinking about how the Metatron was before, with the stuff in the trial we saw, and just telling Mr Fell that I was going to be in charge here without giving him a say, which is a big overreach and a kind of theft, and I think the wards are damaged but I can't fix them myself because that would really be theft, and I think the building's a bit sapient and resents my presence, and I haven't opened or anything because I don't know how bookshops work and don't have Mr Fell's permission to sell things, and I... I don't want the Second Coming to happen because there are so many books I haven't read yet!!!"

Crowley makes a 'simmer down' gesture. "Okay. Taking it from the top: Thinking is always good, never stop doing it. You're absolutely right about Heaven and the Metatron sinning by treating people as things. We will need Aziraphale here to reset the wards, but there're ways to shore them up without committing metaphysical theft. This building may well be a bit sapient, like my car, because Aziraphale's put so much time and love into it. If you're truly against the Second Coming, then you have my permission to be here. Aziraphale actively tries to avoid opening or making sales anyway, so you're doing fine on that front. Okay?"

He's about to say more, but is interrupted by a sound from outside that could be described as "a six-foot-tall cat played by John Hamm negotiating the expulsion of a particularly obstinate hairball while in extreme emotional distress".

Of course, what is actually is, is a certain renegade Supreme Archangel who's seen something that's upset him to the point of dry heaving and loud emotional meltdown: "THEY KILLED HIM!!! THEY WIPED HIM LIKE THEY WERE GOING TO DO TO ME AND THEY PUT HIM IN MY OLD JOB AND THAT SOMEHOW MAKES IT WORSE!!!" Beelzebub tries to calm him down, and they eventually succeed in directing Gabriel's attention to the Bentley, the Bookshop and the startled redhead leaning out of the doors.

It's a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Crowley lets them into the Bookshop without a word of snark. He directs them to the sofa, pours himself into the chair opposite and stares at them with a quizzically raised eyebrow. "Why'd you come back?"

Gabriel is still gathering himself, so Beez answers, "We got talking... We both have a lot to atone for, and Gabriel wanted to repay you and Aziraphale for your kindness better than he could have done when everything blew up before [Gabriel nods emphatically]. Then we reasoned that the destruction of everything in Armageddon round two would catch us wherever we were, and we'd be just as dead as if we'd been executed for returning..."

"...so we figured, what the heck, let's make it worthwhile!" Gabriel takes a slightly shaky breath. "So we came back to help you and Aziraphale mess up this Apocalypse, and we snuck into Heaven to plant spy flys [Beez smirks while Crowley does an impressed double-take], but then we saw..."

"Yeah, I heard you." Crowley pulls out the letter from earlier and hands it over. "Aziraphale's not dead, he's way too stubborn for that. We have more allies than you think, but we've got to plan carefully or we're stuffed. Speaking of allies..." He launches himself upright and swaggers to the door, where the deserters he met earlier have just landed. In something of a Regimental-Sergeant-Major mode, he says, "Right, you lot, this Bookshop is pretty much HQ for now, but the wards are damaged and we can't properly repair them without Aziraphale. Set up a guard duty rota covering all possible entrances and exits, at the double, but keep it discreet. Got that?" That done, he gently dragoons Muriel into helping him get his plants out of the Bentley and into his and Aziraphale's bedroom. When he's alone once more, he spends a few moments puttering around, sorting out his angel's clothes from the box (noting the missing bow tie with a twinge of sadness) and lining up the plants on the windowsill and anywhere else they'll fit. That done, he sternly tells them, "Right, you lot, listen up! You live here now, got it? So you'd better look nice for when Aziraphale gets back or else!" The plants visibly stand to attention as Crowley wields his plant mister threateningly, before gently spritzing their leaves.

Up in Heaven, "Raphael" has by chance managed to scrape up enough independent thought to wonder about the strange silvery trinket he's been holding on to without properly noticing its existence. Once the idea enters his consciousness, it won't leave, and he suddenly can't focus on anything else [the vibe and camera angels I have in mind are very 'Professor Yana properly noticing his pocket watch', but less evil]. He happens to still be holding it when he starts absently touching his mouth again, he accidentally swallows it...And there's a burst of mental white light, a garbled flood of memories -- Aziraphale is restored! He takes a couple of seconds to reorient himself, stretches his neck from side to side, wiggles his shoulders and generally limbers up to be a Chaotic Murder Hornet... Then Saraquel forcibly re-imposes the "Raphael" persona, but squashing Aziraphale inside his own mind rather than erasing him outright; she has her own plans regarding the Metatron, and can't afford to let Azzy be too chaotic too early.

Aziraphale is understandably furious and immediately starts testing the bounds of this latest development with subversive intent. (Beware the fury of a patient angel!)

Back in Soho, a day or two later, Nina's becoming increasingly worried about Heavenly and Hellish matters that she's witnessed or inferred; she's feeling a little awkward about contacting Crowley, but sends a message across to the Bookshop anyway. Crowley swaggers across the road in reply at about closing time (after a long shift monitoring the spy-flys), helps Nina carry some stuff inside, then sprawls in a chair with a raised-eyebrow Look. "Got your message."

Under the pressure of the sunglasses and the eyebrow, Nina quails a little, but says, "I... I owe you an apology." Crowley's other eyebrow goes up. "For raving hypocrisy. I shouldn't have tried to lecture you on how to run your relationship right after telling you off for doing the same thing. I'm sorry."

"We're even, then." Crowley sits up and leans forward. "There's something else, though. You're scared, about something you can't ask anyone else about. What is it?"

Nina hesitates, worried about sounding odd, then says, "You know Wintersmith?" Crowley nods emphatically. "I was reading it last night, and the part where Tiffany's critiquing a romance novel's depiction of a sheep farm made me think about coffee shop AU fanfiction and the stuff they get wrong -- like the characters running off in the middle of the morning rush to interfere in their neighbours' love lives -- and then I realised there're a few things about Maggie that don't add up, and there're angels and demons all over the place and WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON???"

Crowley is more or less unruffled. Gently, he tells Nina, "I'm the last person to discourage asking questions, and I understand why you have them, but this is one of those situations where getting answers is a risk; you can't un-eat an apple and expect to get the same apple back afterward, and the truth you're asking about would probably look like cosmic horror from a human perspective. If you and any of the other Whickber Sstreet Traderss really want answerss, I'm prepared to give them -- say, tomorrow evening at the Bookssshop? -- but be very ssure you truly want to know. Ok?" Upon her confirmation, he takes his leave, sashaying back to the Bookshop as Nina starts to work out why he used an apple metaphor in particular...

The next evening, the Bookshop is more full of people than it has been for quite some time; the Whickber Street Traders & Shopkeepers have (as Crowley suspected) been wanting answers about what's going on since the Meeting Ball. He's trying to call the meeting to some kind of order when there's another knock at the door. Suspicious (everyone he was expecting is already present), Crowley approaches the doors just as two file cards are pushed through the letterbox, showing Prophecies 3008 and 5004. Once he's recovered from the surprise, Crowley tears open the door to reveal Anathema Device and Newt Pulsifer and invites them in without further ado. Introductions are swiftly made, and Anathema explains that she knew she'd be needed tonight to explain about Agnes, and wanted to take the opportunity to pass on the Nice & Accurate Prophecies card index to someone who'd truly appreciate it for what it is. She then has to shake Newt a bit, because he's been rooted to the spot, staring in awe around the Bookshop. "This place is brilliant! It's kind of the Platonic ideal of old bookshops! I... [excited squeak, gesturing]"

Flattered on Aziraphale's behalf, Crowley smirks, notes that it's kind of Newt to say so, then saunters over to the till and rings the handbell for silence. "I hereby call to order this Truly Extraordinary Meeting of the Whickber Street Traders & Shopkeepers Association. I know you all want answers about what's been going on, and you definitely deserve them. Where would you like to start?"

Nina raises a hand and asks, "That metaphor you used yesterday, about eating apples -- there was a reason you used that, wasn't there?"

"Ah, yessssssssss!" Crowley grins hugely. "An excellent choice! Imagine, if you will a desert, and within that desert, a huge walled garden with a certain tree in the centre. A certain demon has been told to 'get up there and make some trouble', but he isn't really used to being a demon yet and has doubts about this whole 'evil for evil's sake' business, so he does the least troublesome thing he can think of that fits the brief, finds the official response a tad excessive, recognises the cute Principality on duty at the Eastern Gate, slithers over for a chat, the angel admits to giving away his flaming sword out of compassionate concern, and, well..."

"Vavoom?" Gabriel seems to be trying hard not to squee too obviously.

"Vavoom!" agrees Crowley, not buying the act for a second. He proceeds to recount (in as concise a manner as he can) the 6000-odd years of his and Aziraphale's joint history, not going into too much detail on specific incidents, apart from the Job business (at the request of Gabriel and some of the shopkeepers who'd never liked the 'official' version -- Gabe's pretty good-humoured about how daft the whole affair makes him look) and somewhat on the Bullet Catch (to impressed noises from Mutt and his spouse). It's all surprisingly lighthearted until the account gets to the arrival of the Antichrist and the first Armageddon, at which point Crowley becomes focused and deadly serious, calling in frequent contributions from Gabe, Beez, Newt and Anathema (the story of the body-swap dodge gets a rousing cheer, though!) and emphasising that what ultimately resolved the crisis was humans being magnificently human. Things get even more serious when the explanations reach Gabriel's casting-out and the impending Second Coming/Armageddon v2, and once the story's finished, the Whickber Street Traders have a moment of overwhelmed silence.

Nina breaks the silence by rather numbly commenting that Crowley really wasn't kidding about the cosmic horror thing. Other traders join in, contemplatively noting that the Ineffable Husbands are humanity's unofficial godparents and the ultimate queer elders, and Mr Brown (who's old enough to remember both) remarks on the parallels with both the Cold War and the dark times when homosexuality was illegal.

The atmosphere is rudely broken by an indication that someone Upstairs wishes to speak to Muriel immediately. Beez, the shopkeepers and guests immediately dive for cover behind every available bookshelf, while Crowley and Gabriel throw Muriel candles for the summoning circle and take cover themselves.

Muriel greets the activated circle with a cheery, polite, "Hello, this is the Angelic Embassy in London, Muriel speaking, how can I help?" A familiar (?) silhouette forms in the light within the circle; the Archangel "Raphael" is checking in to make sure that nebulously defined preparations on Earth are going well, and he is in addition curious as to why there were so many humans in the Bookshop earlier. Muriel explains that they were hosting a shopkeepers' association meeting, adding on the spur of the moment that it's part of their Earthly cover. As soon as they mention that, "Raphael"'s expression visibly twitches and glitches, as if there's some fierce internal struggle going on, he hunches over, looks up -- and it's Aziraphale in control once more, forcing himself out from under the imposed persona and visibly terrified.

Gabbling with nerves and fidgeting agitatedly with his hands, Aziraphale delivers a frantic apology for messing with everyone's heads at the Meeting Ball and begs Muriel to pass the message on if they can, because he's not sure he'll live to deliver it in person or be able to make practical amends. While Muriel is promising to pass the message on, Mutt notices something about Aziraphale's hand movements -- subtle pulling and folding among the agitated flailing -- and laser-focuses on that through a gap in the bookshelves. Cautiously, Muriel starts to ask whether there're any messages for Crowley, but Aziraphale notices there's someone listening in on his end and frantically gestures for Muriel to stop talking (in the process concealing a subtle wrist-flick throwing motion). He has a split-second to make eye contact with Crowley and attempt to convey "I love you more than anything" via eyebrow movements, and to receive a raised-eyebrow nod that conveys "I love you too, I'm working on things down here, I know what I'm holding without looking, and the answer to the associated question is yes," in return, before the "Raphael" persona is forcibly reimposed.

It's unsettling to watch -- his body is yanked mechanically, involuntarily upright like a puppet having its strings pulled, and he settles too smoothly back into the formal posture from the start of the call as his face becomes utterly blank once more. The call ends in a thoroughly conventional fashion, leaving the meeting attendees creeping out from their hiding places looking extremely shaken.

One or two people, once they've found their voices again, start to wonder aloud whether Aziraphale's apology was remotely sincere. Crowley confirms that it was, in a tone that suggests he's perplexed and a bit offended that anyone could think otherwise. Mutt backs him up. "He was in fear for his life! Who'd waste time lying in that kind of situation?!" He takes a couple of calming breaths, "So, yes, completely sincere, but I got the sense that it was at the same time a sort of misdirecting patter. Did anyone else see what he was doing with his hands? Looked like pulling something out of his sleeves and throwing it out of the circle right before he..."

"You're absolutely right." Crowley holds out his right hand and opens it to reveal a small, roundish tartan lump. As he unwraps Aziraphale's bow tie from around the package, he continues, "The thing about conducting a millennia-long clandestine relationship with painful annihilation as the price of discovery is that you have to be, or get, very good at communicating in ways that won't be understood or noticed by anyone who doesn't know the full context [quick sideways glance at Maggie and Nina]. For example, this..." He finishes unwrapping the bow tie to reveal Aziraphale's signet ring. "...means, among other things, 'I trust you with everything that I am.'" No-one dares say a word as Crowley slips the ring onto the ring finger of his left hand and secures the bow tie around his watch strap. He then wearily dismisses the meeting, responding to queries from the Whickber Street Traders about how they can help by saying, "Just... Keep being human, as hard as you can. That's what did for Armageddon last time..."

Up in Heaven, Saraquel is worried and speculative as she watches "Raphael" depart to resume his duties elsewhere, looking unusually shaky. She consults the memory-mangling app on her angelphone and realises that repeatedly imposing the "Raphael" persona without first erasing Aziraphale has rendered that persona increasingly fragile and liable to be thrown off permanently at any time.

Aziraphale does just that as soon as he's sure he's unobserved, but (warned by his previous experiences) acts as if he hasn't, all while weaving a small illusion miracle to bolster the pretence until he's ready to cast it off.

A couple of days later, Crowley is sitting in Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death, brooding deeply and knocking back inordinate quantities of Nina's strongest espresso after a night watching the spy-flys. He's jolted out of his reverie by the arrival of the International Express delivery guy, cheery and businesslike as ever, bringing a letter from Anathema and a large parcel she's passing on for someone else. Crowley opens the letter first, reads it in mounting agitation, quaffs the last of his latest coffee and races back to the Bookshop. While Muriel's examining the letter, Crowley opens the parcel to find a number of things from Aziraphale -- Gabriel's scarf and tailored overcoat (along with an apologetic note about not being able to find more of his clothes), all records of his attempted execution and Gabriel's kangaroo court, information on the murders of Azrael and Raphael, a complete list of angels who've been memory-wiped without Falling (Muriel is perturbed to find their own name on the list), change logs for the Book of Life, details of other things the Metatron has been doing in an attempt to impede the Ineffable Husbands' ability to muck up Armageddon round 2; all in all, a very helpful mound of evidence for anyone intending to take down the system. In mounting fear for Aziraphale's safety and warned by part of Anathema's letter, Crowley leaves the Bookshop, the parcel and its contents under the temporary care of Gabriel, Beelzebub and Muriel and goes tearing off in the Bentley, Best of Queen blaring from the radio. Near the M25, though, the playback is interrupted by an ominous announcement: "Peoples of the Earth, please attend carefully. The information that follows is vital to the future of all of you..."

Up in Heaven, the Metatron is hijacking every sound-emitting device on Earth to transmit the "good news" about the Second Coming. He makes a smarmy, patronising speech about how wonderful it's going to be and how humanity should rejoice about the culmination of the Great Plan etc. etc. before introducing "Supreme Archangel Raphael" and handing him the trumpet to blow to formally begin hostilities. "Raphael" takes the trumpet (a tad dubiously, but the Metatron's too full of himself to notice) but doesn't immediately move to use it. Instead, in a deep and resonant voice, he says, "Before we begin, there is a quotation that I feel is very appropriate at this juncture." He then drops the "Raphael" illusion entirely and scrunches up the trumpet like tissue paper as he says, "As a wise and wily serpent once said, 'Great pustulent mangled BOLLOCKS to the GREAT BLASTED PLAN!'", his voice rising through the octaves to the familiar Aziraphale tones.

As Metatron has a major 'oh crap' moment (and Crowley, barrelling along the motorway, registers surprise, affection, pride and intense concern simultaneously), Aziraphale builds on his advantage of surprise to bluntly explain exactly what's really intended to happen, viciously and succinctly eviscerating the concept of 'Rapture' and the idea of Heaven and Hell giving a flying fuck about humanity, utterly condemning the celestial/infernal ego games and urging any angels or demons who've been doubting the plan to desert, explore life on Earth for themselves and make their own decisions.

Metatron, having recovered from the shock, tries to get his plans back on track. "My Lord Archan--"

"No." Aziraphale starts determinedly walking towards the elevators. "My name is Aziraphale. I am a Principality, and I claim the Earth and every living being upon it as my protectorate. The Archangel Raphael died a very long time ago, as you should know full well, Metatron, given that you murdered him."

The Metatron switches to faux-concern: "You have to do this! you're going against the Great Plan! You'll be damned--"

Aziraphale shrugs and keeps walking. "I am reliably informed that it's not so bad once you get used to it."

The Metatron is furious now: "You're a worthless remnant stitched together from worthless remnants, and if you want to have any value at all in your miserable little existence--"

Aziraphale makes a dismissive gesture and keeps walking, outwardly unaffected. (Cutaway to Crowley: "Oh, angel... I'm gonna pamper you SO HARD when I get you home...") He's making surprisingly good progress, between the confusion he's sown in the ranks and the support of those members of his old platoon who elected to stay behind and keep an eye on him. The Metatron manages to exhort a very few of the really fanatical loyalists to try to stop Aziraphale by force, heavily outnumbered though they are. Not many of them get through to Aziraphale, and he manages to dodge them in such a way that they end up hitting each other -- until Sandalphon, by an unlucky fluke, manages to catch him hard on the face. There's a breathless moment of shocked silence, broken by Aziraphale wryly snarking about how sloppy and complacent Sandalphon's form has become since Sodom and Gomorrah. He takes advantage of the confusion this causes to disarm Sandalphon of his sword and neutralise him, then hesitates as if to turn and support the anti-Armageddon rebels he's convinced -- they urge him to get back to Earth and Crowley. He does so with considerable haste, meeting comparatively little resistance. (Cutaway to Crowley, looking more worried than ever as the Heavenly transmission cuts off.)

[My ideas form a four-way branch at this point; the commonalities are Aziraphale crash-landing somewhere with his wings broken and/or on fire, Crowley picking him up and doing loads of healing miracles, creating a scabbard for the sword that Aziraphale is clutching like grim death, wrapping him in blankets, carrying him to the Bentley and driving him back to Soho, all the while fretting over him.

--Version 1: Aziraphale falls past an airliner and lands somewhere isolated enough that a search-and-rescue team with helicopter support comes looking for him. Aziraphale is traumatised enough to be very twitchy about letting the paramedics (who, kind or no, are after all strangers) do anything to him until Crowley shows up; he flatly refuses transport to a hospital and (by some chain of events) ends up staying the night with Crowley in the guest bedroom of a nearby cottage that proves to belong to Madame Tracy and Shadwell.

--Version 2: Aziraphale lands in the sea a couple of miles off Beachy Head, with his wings on fire -- or in some other highly visible way that sets off an immediate flurry of calls to the Coastguard. Eastbourne RNLI are tasked to the rescue, and once the Deputy Launch Authority's gotten over the initial 'WTF?' reaction, they decide to launch the station's Tamar-class all-weather lifeboat to fish him out (reasoning that when rescuing a casualty with a 12-foot wingspan, it'd be sensible to have the larger, more stable vessel). Crowley roars up to the lifeboat station in the Bentley right as the Tamar is launched, pops his wings and flies off after the boat with a cry of, "AZIRAPHALE, YOU MAD BASTARD, WHERE ARE YOU???" He actually finds Aziraphale first, grabs his hand and holds on to him with grim determination, which makes things a lot easier for the RNLI crew -- a demon with huge and distinctive wings is a heck of a lot easier to spot than a football-sized lump on the surface of even slightly rolling seas. Plus, between physical and psychological fatigue, injuries and voluminous, waterlogged robes, Aziraphale probably wouldn't have been able to miracle himself afloat long enough for the lifeboat crew to get there. Thanks to Crowley, though, get there they do, and once the Ineffables are safely on board they turn back for the lifeboat station; Crowley fusses around Aziraphale, doing healing and drying miracles and getting in the way of crew trying to do casualty care, while the coxswain tries to figure out how to put all this into the post-rescue report. Back at the station, the crew check the Ineffables over again, feed them choccy biscuits and hot sweet tea, then see them on their way. (And there's a *very* interesting segment on Saving Lives At Sea a few months later!)

--Version 3a: Aziraphale lands in St James' Park and drags himself over to their bench without intervention from passers-by, who (if they notice him at all) assume he's doing some sort of performance art.

--Version 3b: Aziraphale lands in St James' Park and is immediately besieged by solicitous bystanders -- some genuinely want to help, but some others in the crowd are classic Nice Little Old Ladies who think they Know Best and everyone should do as they say because they go to church in fancy clothes every Sunday; they barge around being unhelpfully helpful and ignoring or steamrolling over Aziraphale's protests that he's fine and just needs to rest, until one of them grabs his broken wing, saying, "My grandson's an ornithologist, dear, I know what I'm doing," and twists it. Aziraphale screams in agony and Crowley, already approaching at speed, teleports over and verbally tears the little-old-lady brigade a new one, all hissy and snarly and protective.]

Regardless of branch, cut to Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death, where Nina is wrangling a gaggle of obnoxious influencer types out of the door, to cheers from the regular clientele. One of them comments jovially about how worrying it'd be if she ever lost her knack for that, which leads to a more general discussion about people acting out of character -- fading abruptly when Nina notices something outside and makes a grim comment about people who normally drive like absolute bloody maniacs suddenly acting like they're transporting fragile glass sculptures. Crowley's driving is notorious enough in Soho that everyone immediately rushes to the window to see the Bentley creeping gently into its spot outside the Bookshop. Crowley clambers out slowly, closes the driver's door quietly and moves around the car while Nina and the customers speculate about the fluffy white bundle they briefly glimpsed in the passenger seat. Their hypotheses are blown out of the water when Crowley straightens up, holding a sleepy Aziraphale in a bridal carry (wings, robes, sword and all), bumps the car door closed with his butt and carries his angel gently into the Bookshop, popping his wings for umbrella purposes when it starts raining.

In the Bookshop, Gabriel, Beelzebub and Muriel are almost more perturbed by Aziraphale's injured state than they were by the Heavenly transmission earlier. Without anything being spoken aloud, they help Crowley get him out of the Archangel robes and tucked up in bed. Crowley takes a certain savage glee in picking up the removed robes, chucking them out of the window and setting them on fire before removing boots, shades and blazer and snuggling next to his angel.

The next morning, Crowley drifts awake to find that Aziraphale has wriggled around significantly during the night and is now clinging to him big-spoon style, with all the tenacity of a particularly traumatised barnacle. Unwilling to deny his angel the comfort and closeness after the trauma of the past couple of months, he dozes and snuggles quietly, until the sound of the angelic deserters changing guard duty shifts reminds him that the Bookshop still isn't fully secure. Aziraphale has by this time woken up and is keenly aware of the same issue. He's determined to get the wards sorted immediately if not sooner; Crowley knows he's right that it needs doing, but is worried that he's pushing himself too hard, too soon. They bicker about it lightly while getting dressed -- a process slightly complicated by Aziraphale still feeling rather shaky and having considerable trouble pulling his wings back in. Crowley helps out with some small miracles, hands Aziraphale his walking stick from 1862 and does his bow tie. He takes a step back to bask in the warm fuzzies of seeing his angel looking like himself again; Aziraphale in turn gets very mushy about the exact finger his signet ring ended up on, enough to grab Crowley's lapels and pull him in for a quick smooch before they get to work.

Downstairs, Gabriel, Beelzebub and Muriel are worriedly discussing Aziraphale and the upcoming apocalypse, until the angel in question appears on the mezzanine, chiming in with some authoritative, reassuring statement. Between his outfit, demeanour and wings, he cuts a very impressive figure; the effect might have been undercut by an uncertain wobble as he starts to go down the stairs, but Crowley deftly draws attention away from that while going backwards down the staircase ahead of Aziraphale, reassuring him along the lines of, "I'll catch you if you fall." Once down, Aziraphale is businesslike in corralling Team Ineffable to help scrub out the summoning circle and prepare for the re-casting of the wards. When the time comes for him and Crowley to actually perform that particular miracle, though, he hesitates, remembering everything that happened as a result of the last joint miracle. Gabriel picks up on this and points out that this time around, there's absolutely no need to be clandestine -- and given that the super-subtle hiding miracle clocked a game-breaking 25 Lazarii, he personally is very interested to see what this one'll do. Buoyed up by this, the Ineffable Husbands set to the working with a will, creating a fairly epic lightshow!

Cut to Heaven, where the miracle detection system goes interestingly berserk and then explodes.

Cut back to the Bookshop, where Aziraphale is leaning slightly on Crowley and making his way to his comfy chair as all the angel-adrenaline of the past few days finally presents its bill.

Shenanigans happen! Team Ineffable and their human allies do awesome things! The Second Coming is a damp squib because so many angels and demons refuse to play along! The whole rotten house of cards gets torn down! Jesus nopes out of the whole mess and leaves the Ineffable Husbands with a means of contacting him, along with an offer to do their wedding catering pro bono! Mysteries are resolved in the most positive way possible! All the other weirdness is explained! The Ineffable Husbands talk about stuff! The Metatron is permanently banished to an inescapable plane where he can do nothing except tread barefoot on Lego and sharpened metal d4s for all eternity! Crowley gets to ask questions of God and Aziraphale gets to call Her out in detail for being so fuckin' awful, treating people as things, condoning so much cruelty in service of a never-explained Plan and calling it 'love'! She offers to marry them then and there, but they both refuse because that feels too much like an offer of Heaven's approval on Heaven's terms, not theirs! (and so on and so forth)

A few nights later, Aziraphale and Crowley head to the roof of the bookshop. Crowley fishes out a sheaf of notes and sketches which he's been working on for the past week or so, sets them floating and flirtatiously asks Aziraphale for an assist with the night's planned miracle. Aziraphale (knowing exactly what's needed because Crowley's been consulting with him closely regarding tonight's hijinks) sets a miraculous filter over London that cancels out all of the light pollution without messing with the working of the streetlights and so on. As the sky becomes a glorious Bortle class 1 panorama, he hugs Crowley from behind and they both pop their wings as Crowley calls down cosmic dust from one of his nebulae and gets to work on it, making a ring. Once done, he turns to Aziraphale and stutters and mumbles at length, forgetting his planned speech now that it comes time to give it. He eventually finds some sort of words and goes down on one knee, offering the ring. Aziraphale is happy-squeeing and wiggling so hard he can barely put his acceptance into coherent words, but Crowley finally puts the ring on his finger and they proceed to snog each other senseless. After about five or ten minutes, a cork whizzes past their heads, close enough to ruffle their hair, and they look over the parapet to see the Whickber Street Traders breaking out the champagne, evidently having figured out what was going on treating it as something worth celebrating.

The next day, #DameVeraLynn is trending and Berkeley Square is playing host to an impromptu convention of very confused bird-watchers and breathlessly excited BBC reporters. Because the Whickber Street Traders are taking the view that 'if the Bookshop's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'', so the Ineffable Fiances don't find out until mid afternoon, when Mr Arnold drops by with the ornithological gossip and a brochure of upcoming concerts at the Royal Albert Hall. Other engagement presents come in from the Whickber Street Traders over the next day or two -- tiramisu brownies from Mrs Sandwich (her special extra-boozy recipe) for example, and a stack of Steeleye Span records from Maggie (Cam Ye O'er Frae France [one of my audio-stimmy faves], Thomas the Rhymer, The Making of a Man [Pterry's favourites], Gaudete [super appropriate for GO in like 3 different ways], The Dark Morris Song [my top favourite]), who thought Aziraphale might like them even if they're not his usual thing.

A few days later, Saraquel comes to the Bookshop having finally finished cleaning up in what's left of Heaven -- and immediately bounces off the restored wards. Trying not to be visibly intimidated by Aziraphale's obvious annoyance as he opens the doors, she requests entry, but he flatly denies her, icicles dripping from every phoneme. "You are directly complicit in the attempted or actual murder by ego-death of thousands of angels and two instances of attempted omnicide. You stole my memories and tried to squash me out of existence twice; don't you dare try to pretend you were being merciful there. You were perfectly happy to try to murder two of my neighbours who I consider valued friends. Your bridges are burned, Saraquel. You are not welcome here. Leave Earth of your own volition and never return, or Crowley and I will eject you by force." He takes Crowley's hand in preparation for a joint miracle, and Saraquel is alarmed enough to flee immediately (Michael and Dagon, lurking and observing in the background, wisely decide to bugger off to Betelgeuse rather than test the Ineffables' patience further). Aziraphale quietly closes the Bookshop doors and leans shakily on them and Crowley.

Cut to the Ineffable Wedding! It's a handfasting at Tadfield Manor, with the former Sister Mary Loquacious officiating. The occasion is very well-attended -- the Whickber Street Traders, Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell, Anathema and Newt, the Them, the entirety of Aziraphale's old platoon (who adapt the tradition of forming a sabre arch for the newlyweds to walk under), Gabriel and Beelzebub are in attendance, with Muriel as Best Person. The catering is being ably handled by a cheerful guy who seems to produce amazing food and drink out of nowhere, the reception playlist is delightfully varied, and a good time is had by all! The Ineffables take a breather in the Bentley afterwards to let the fact that they did it properly sink in, then hold meaningful eye contact for about five seconds before smooching passionately and driving off to their honeymoon.

At a certain South Downs cottage, on an early summer evening -- there's a garden full of fruit and vegetables and herbs and spices and flowers. Aziraphale brings tea and cakes out to a neat little table on the patio as Crowley finishes intimidating the climbing roses on his mini-observatory and sashays over, pausing to pluck an apple from the tree. They share it as they appreciate their freedom to be truly together, as well as how far they've come since making that nebula...

[Pan up to sunset over picturesque landscape, roll credits]

***

Whoof, that was a bit of a marathon! As I said at the start, I doubt most if any of the events recounted above are going to happen in Season Three, but my brain does tend to run away and do its own thing! For what it's worth, what I think is *likely* to happen in S3 is a combination of elements of The Magic Trick You Didn't See (especially the burning-cinema-screen in the opening sequence as a pointer to memories/data files being corrupted and restored from backup) and @vidavalor's terrifyingly plausible and well-grounded hypothesis that Final-Fifteen!Metatron is actually Satan, Aziraphale has capital-F Fallen and is going to start S3 amnesiac and in Hell. (The Great Balls Of Fire meta dropped when I was partway through writing this post, and on that basis my brain has careened off in an entirely different direction XD) *meep* I guess we'll just have to exspecta videque!

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fic #fanfiction #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #speculation

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mochinomnoms · 9 months ago

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I’m not sure but I thought I might as well ask

is Yev based on Yzma from Emperors New Groove? Some of the reasons I thought this was due to his hairstyle (high ponytail) looking similar to one of Yzmas hairstyles where her black hair is pointed out or represents the lavender feather(?)/accessory , the purple makeup suiting her equally purple color scheme, and the mention of the “secret” lab which is like Yzmas lab in the palace. Also (this might be wrong) I think Quispe (his last name) is Quechua which is a language spoken in different South American countries such as Peru (which Emperors New Groove is based/set in).

Even if not I think Pomefiore is a great dorm for Yzma since she has been known to be stylish in the movie changing into several different outfits + the original concept of the movie was going to make her hate the sun since she blames it on making her age faster (snuff out the light was going to be her villains solo I recommend searching it on YouTube)

sorry for the rant I just really love Emperors New Groove, one of my favorite Disney movies

YES HE IS THANK YOU FOR NOTICE THE USE OF QUECHUA I STUDIED INCA FOR A CLASS AND WANTED TO REFERENCE THEM AND CORRECT!!! YZMA FITS BEAUTIFULLY IN POMEFIORE!!!!!

WAAHAHAHAHAHA I WILL ADD HIS FUN FACTS BELOW AS A REWARD!!!

Yev Quispe

“The new Housewarden of Pomefiore. A remarkably beautiful young man with skills rivaling the most experienced apothecaries. He demands attention and respect from all due to his status as a young heir, lest you become an unwilling subject in his experiments.”

Birthday: December 24th (Capricorn)

Age: 20

Height: 180 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Homeland: Kusco Mountains

Family: Unnamed younger brother

Other Names(s): Bluebottle (Floyd)

Grade: Junior

Class: C (No. 18)

Club: Science Club

Best Subject: Potions

Hobbies: Experiments

Pet Peeves: Mislabeling

Favorite Food: Ceviche

Least Favorite Food: Spinach Empanadas

Talent: Transformation spells

Appearance

Yev is a tall, lean man with tanned skin and dark brown eyes. He has dark purple layered hair that goes below his shoulders, with long side swept bangs framing his face. His usual hairstyle has him wearing his hair in a French braid, with his bangs and two pieces of hair curled below his chin. His hair is tied with a thick blue hair tie.

He wears blue, turquoise earrings and is always seen wearing purple eyeshadow, dark eyeliner, and wine colored lipstick. He is often wearing a polite smile and critical gaze.

Personality

Yev is a confident, haughty young man who is self-assured in his looks and skills. He is well known to dislike being questioned by his underclassmen, holding very few in either equal standing or high-regards. Because of this, he is quick to point out others’ flaws when others point out his own shortcomings, known to be overly harsh when doing so. Over the years, this has made him overly critical of others to the point that he is condescending to most, especially to those that aren’t of his same social status.

Despite this, he is renowned for his skills as an upcoming potionologist, sought out by both cosmetic and pharmaceutical scientists for his unique skills in transformation potions and spells. Surprisingly, when compared to his predecessor, Yev has no issue getting dirty and cluttered when experimenting in his makeshift laboratory and enjoys making new discoveries, sharing them with others. He also has no qualms in involving others in his tests, allowing other students to take his potions and note down their reactions rather than testing them himself.

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #PTM

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 4 months ago

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what do the shabogans look like? how are they different from other gallifreyans? what other native gallifreyan species are there, sapient or not?

(sorry if I'm asking too many questions! powerhouse of knowledge about my special interest, y'know, i can't resist)

What do Shobogans look like, and how are they different from modern Gallifreyans?

The Shobogans were the ancient predecessors of modern Gallifreyans. Here’s a detailed look at their biology and how they differ from all the Gallifreyans we know today.

🏋️ Height and Build

Shobogans: Stronger, more athletic, and significantly taller than the average human. Shobogan women tended to be much taller and more muscular than Shobogan males.

Modern Gallifreyans: Retain a humanoid appearance but have a more uniform height and build.

💓 Heart/s

Shobogans: Had only one heart.

Modern Gallifreyans: Possess two hearts, providing greater strength, endurance, and resilience.

🌬️ Respiratory System

Shobogans: Had a respiratory bypass system allowing them to survive in harsh conditions, but likely lacked the extensive pulmonary tubes of modern Gallifreyans.

Modern Gallifreyans: Also have a respiratory bypass, and advanced lungs with pulmonary tubes, requiring less oxygen than humans.

🕰️ Life Span

Shobogans: Originally immortal, but after the Kotturuh arrived, their lifespan was reduced to about 300 years.

Modern Gallifreyans: Can live for thousands of years.

🧠 Telepathy

Shobogans: Had very powerful telepathic abilities, engaging in complex networks and collective consciousness known as the Thought-Pool.

Modern Gallifreyans: Possess psionic abilities, although less potent than Shobogans, with telepathic intuition and courtesy mind-touches.

🧬 DNA

Shobogans: Had slightly different DNA compared to modern Gallifreyans (probably double helix).

Modern Gallifreyans: Have triple-helix DNA with symbiotic nuclei and a hidden fourth helix in Time Lords, enhancing their abilities and linking them to their TARDISes.

🍽️ Nutritional Needs

Shobogans: Ate about the same amount as humans. Young Shobogans required more food than human children.

Modern Gallifreyans: Eat similarly to humans but are better at extracting nutrients, leading to fewer meals in the day. Young Gallifreyans also need more food than human children.

😴 Sleep

Shobogans: After reaching maturity, required very little sleep.

Modern Gallifreyans: Similar to Shobogans, needing only 1-2 hours of sleep per day post-First Maturation.

🦰 Hair

Shobogans: Ginger hair was a common indicator of an "Individual," a rare Shobogan with extraordinary psionic powers.

Modern Gallifreyans: Ginger hair is more of a desirable hair colour.

❄️ Cold Resistance

Shobogans: Had a similar resistance to being frozen as modern Gallifreyans, with teenagers being less resistant to cold.

Modern Gallifreyans: Share the same cold resistance, with younger individuals being less resistant.

🏫 So ...

In summary, while Shobogans and modern Gallifreyans share many foundational traits, advancements by Rassilon and genetic engineering have significantly enhanced the capabilities of modern Gallifreyans. Despite this, the legacy of the Shobogans most definitely continues to influence Gallifreyan physiology and culture.

Due to its sheer length, I'm going to put the second section of the ask into a new post. I'll post it right after this one.

What are the differences between Time Lord and Gallifreyans?: The biological differences between Time Lords and Gallifreyans, general overview.

Are Gallifreyans mammals?: Exploring the classification of Gallifreyans as mammals.

What is looming and how does it exist alongside natural reproduction?: Overview of looming and its place alongside natural reproduction in Gallifreyan society.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired😴

#gil #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #ask answered #whoniverse #doctor who #gallifreyan biology #time lord biology #gil biology

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starlightlacrimosazpsff · 1 year ago

Text

◇ 𝓐 𝓑𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓘𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ◇ [2]

SYNOPSIS:

Many consider your disability as a burden, but he finds a way to make it a blessing in disguise. What makes us flawed is what makes us unique, and that is what he considers the most beautiful thing about you—an imperfection he dearly adores. Nevertheless, he knows of your lingering sorrows and seeks a way to support you in the best way he could.

ENTRY TYPE: Submission, F!Reader

WARNING(S): slightly suggestive scenes, symptoms of chronic/terminal illness, implications of mental instability, mentions of past trauma resulting to severe injury, scenes of past abuse/violence, possible triggers, panic attacks, sleep paralysis, visual/auditory hallucinations, etc...

CHARACTER(S):

Baizhu, Xiao/Alatus, Zhongli / Rex Lapis / Morax, Kaedehara Kazuha, Kamisato Ayato, Thoma

•

•☆••☆••☆•

BAIZHU is a doctor that advocates for the healing of all those in need even at his own expense. In the city of Liyue where everything is bound by contracts, he is the successor to the ancient arts imparted by Changsheng. To nurture the light of souls in danger of being extinguished, the green-haired healer must sacrifice the years bestowed upon him. However, his predecessors—particularly his late master—left him a conundrum: were their lives not just as precious, and thus deserving of preservation? On the other hand, Changsheng would perish if left without a host. Under such facts, how can one continue the contract without paying the price of either the host's or Changsheng's life?

The concepts of life and death have come hand in hand since the olden days. Whether in literature or science, life and death are two sides of the same coin. True immortality is gifted to non-humans for the nature of humans is to remain mortal and ever so fleeting—as there is beauty in its evanescence.

To pursue otherwise is considered an atrocity, perhaps even, a forbidden knowledge.

Baizhu has long been disillusioned by all sides to such lectures. A medicine can easily be used as a poison via overdose, just as a poison can be used as a remedy to eliminate a harmful virus. Power is neither good nor evil, for it is the wielder's intention that shall define its purpose. The supposedly heretic pursuit of immortality is only ever catastrophic when a soul becomes seduced by dark temptations. He is not so arrogant as to proclaim being above it since he is only human as much as any ordinary person. He just knows what to expect of himself.

The green-haired doctor has always been selfish in a way that he just wants to save lives—simple.

"Is it because you loathe death?"

That was a question Changsheng once asked him when he was but a young apprentice.

Death is a natural part of a cycle. It is the mortality that defines the end of every season so it can begin anew; as when one falls, another grows. As a doctor, he merely considers it his job—maybe even a calling—to deter death so his patients could appreciate life.

If Changsheng's contract is the answer, then why should he hesitate? Of course, if said contract shall be considered a plight, then he is determined to let it end with him.

On the gravesite of his predecessors, a chartreuse lantern innocently rested on the tombstone of the first doctor. It sways precariously yet does not tip even against the breeze. Its lit flame was slowly dimming, and it is then that they—he, Changsheng, and Qiqi—finally noticed a peculiar symbol on it.

An ouroboros with silver eyes is drawn in sparkling viridian ink, as if covered in real scales.

"Show yourself, wàishengnǚ."

Upon Changsheng's demand, the lantern shimmered a vibrant green. In its place, a woman was resting on the grave like a grieving widow. Contrastingly, your serene countenance displayed a sweeter image and amplified the otherworldly beauty that can only belong to an adeptus. A silk hanfu in various shades of green covered your figure, and a lone jade comb pinned your hair back in a waterfall braid. There was also a ghostly silver yǔyī draped over you.

"That," her tail points at you, "is the petulant daughter of my late sister. You may call her [Name]."

Thus, his new life with you began.

Baizhu found you to be pleasant company if not a bit eccentric due to your outdated manners. Most of the time, you were always hibernating. Changsheng had clarified that it is not always by choice. They are the side-effects of your abilities—resembling symptoms of narcolepsy, given how he sometimes finds you paralyzed. A part of him felt protective over you because of that. His responsibility now is to provide you treatment in regaining the movement of your muscles, whether through acupuncture or massage.

You trusted no other hands to handle you too.

Speaking of which, you and his adorable assistant have been inseparable. Whenever you are in snake form, you are found either wrapped around Qiqi's neck or nesting on/under her big hat. Whenever you are in human form, she is cuddled in your cold yet welcoming embrace. It came as a bit of a shock when Qiqi claimed her body never suffers rigor mortis in your presence.

"Qiqi loves [Name]." She proclaims.

From what Baizhu observed, you love her just as much...even if you refuse to admit it.

According to Changsheng, you have been asleep since the death of her first contractor—which left you at odds with each other. He did not pry despite his curiosity. He could deduce the facts based on your behavior. On the rare times Qiqi left you behind in Bubu Pharmacy, you sneak into the sleeves of his coat as if to find solace in it.

While Changsheng was asleep, Baizhu took the rare chance to converse with you.

"Why did you choose to wake up now?" He asked.

You deadpanned at him, staring into his eyes as if the answer should have been obvious.

"You were being too loud." You replied.

Baizhu raised a brow confusedly, making you sigh in a mix of boredom and agitation.

"You kept calling me and it woke me up. Really annoying, to be honest..."

He frowned, "I...don't understand. I never knew about you until Changsheng introduced us."

You laughed, and Baizhu swore it sounded like the whispering soft waves by the seashore.

"Your soul sure did~!" You chimed, "It kept nagging about immortality and all that stuff."

His eyes widened in realization.

"Wait, does that mean you—"

"—know about the secret you so desperately seek?"

You gave a sultry smile, walking towards him with a very subtle swing to your hips.

"You must wonder why yímā said nothing about it."

Baizhu looks up yet the gleam remains on his lenses as he stared at you. The golden hour bathed you in flaxen glaze, and his breath hitches when it seems to make your eyes glower. It left him frozen as your lips grazed his ear and the warmth of your breath made him shiver.

"It's quite simple." You whispered, "The method I practice can only be done by me."

You pull back just enough for your eyes to meet.

"It would have been worthless for her to tell you when she was under the assumption I plan to sleep for the rest of eternity."

You glared as your smile sharpened. For a second, the man in your arms felt the familiar constriction of a snake around his body—less friendly, and more threatening. He looked down to see your silver yǔyī tightly wound around his waist like a vise made of plumage. It pulls him closer to you.

"I would have done exactly that if not for your soul's incessant whining." You snarked.

A soft sound resembling a melodic hiss echoes in the room as you turn away. The cloak tickles his skin as it slides away from his exposed stomach. It can almost be seen as a taunt to "come hither" while the eldritch cloth fluttered around you.

You behave more serpentine than Changsheng, yet he still finds it difficult to fear you.

"I suppose," you mumble, "you did present me the perfect opportunity with your ambition."

Rustic golden eyes narrowed at you, flickering into red for a split second. You thought it was a much lovelier shade on him, and you desired to see it more often.

"An opportunity for you to what...?"

You look back over your shoulder. At that precise timing, your grin was childlike and delicate. It was an extreme juxtaposition to your next words.

"An opportunity to die, of course~!"

Baizhu stares in dumbfounded shock, yet he could not inquire more as you slumped. The bout of high emotions seem to have put your muscles at its limit as you slurred. He rushes forward, catching you in his arms and was surprised. Usually, you turn back into your snake form in defense if anyone other than Qiqi touched you in human form; but not this time.

Watching your elegant features, your foreboding words haunt him.

In a moment of weakness, his hand caressed your cheek. His knuckles traced your lips as his eyes are left mesmerized—besotted by you alone.

Flustered, he then pulls away.

Since that day, Baizhu subconsciously begins to treat you more gently and warmly. It did not perturb you but there was trepidation in your gaze, as well as a hint of hope. A mutual understanding grew between you and this persistent fool.

He is a greedy man advocating for life.

You are a pitiful woman yearning for death.

That parallelism is what enabled his soul to awaken yours back to reality. As days pass and nights wane, you grew infatuated by this premise. In the fleeting bliss of domesticity, an ardent affection for living has returned to your nihilistic heart. A part of you still wishes it remained forgotten with the broken pieces that the first doctor left abandoned.

Changsheng sees right through you.

Someday, your feelings for Baizhu will far surpass whatever fascinations you held for Xu Xian.

"I always found it odd." You said.

Baizhu hums as he stargazes beside you. Qiqi had taken Changsheng inside to give you both some needed privacy.

"You and your predecessors," you scoffed, "are always so determined to defy the clutches that death has over your patients; yet in your attempts, you become the most eager to greet it on your doorstep."

You glared into his bespectacled honey gaze, sweet as much as it is infuriating. Your heart swells when he dropped his fallacious smile, proving he is taking your words seriously.

"It is hypocrisy at its finest." You spat.

Your limbs flailed in irritation but you swiftly calmed yourself. The last thing you needed is for your words to slur in anger and then faint.

"What about you?" Baizhu confronts, "Why are you so fixated to die?"

You smile resentfully, "I want to spite him."

It took no guesses whom you meant.

"The audacity of that man," you grumble, "pleading for me to live and find happiness again—in another, as if my heart was so fickle—while he laid dying due to his own foolishness. Since he was so unrepentant for his choice, I want to know why."

Your hand reaches out to the moon. For those brief seconds, beguiled golden eyes watched the scales on your skin shine.

"What does being human feel like? What does it mean to die?" You ask rhetorically.

Baizhu looks at you and is awed to finally see you in whole view. Your regrets, your woes, your pride, your vulnerabilities...

...and your love—he witnesses.

He wants them all.

"Your powers," he said, "what would they entail if I take your contract as well?"

A delicate tenderness softens your smile, pushing a surge of pride in him.

"Simple," you respond idly, "all the energy I have accumulated will be transferred to you."

Baizhu blinked, "So...a reverse of Changsheng's own healing arts?"

You shrug, "My mother had said that the green and white snakes were always meant to be united. One is responsible for refining chi to immortalize the host, while the other will heal by absorbing illnesses."

"That is why you always end up hibernating," he alas concludes, "to gather chi around you."

You smirk, "My endearment for Qiqi is not entirely innocent in that notion. As an undead, the adeptal energy which surrounds her is my ideal reservoir. Similar to dual cultivation, I keep her bodily functions in circulation even when at rest."

In a blink, you levitated before Baizhu with feet just barely touching the ground to be on equal eye level with him. Your hands cradled his face and a solemn glint made your eyes shimmer, as if in tears.

"The green snake is an ouroboros," you murmur, "a serpent that eats itself to gain power."

Your arms slide around his shoulders as your body slumped against him.

"The white snake is a shapeshifter," you continue, "a serpent that endlessly sheds its skin to live."

Your lips kissed his neck and he felt your fangs graze the skin all too tantalizingly.

"Ironically," you chuckle darkly, "the powers are set in reverse. With both contracts, you get to fulfill that ambition of yours: an immortal doctor that can cure any ailment."

"To accomplish it," Baizhu intercepts, "I must take the identity of the green snake."

He understands it now.

The two snakes are bound because they are the only ones capable of undertaking each other's contract without paying a steep price. Your mother perished to save you, leaving Changsheng vulnerable. The first doctor took her contract and then met you. His death could have been prevented if he took yours too, but he chose otherwise.

You did not spite the doctor for choosing death.

You hated how he chose death for your sake. He failed to understand your heart by heeding the calls of his own...and you blamed yourself for it, not Changsheng.

"I accept."

His declaration was not unexpected but you did not anticipate the weight behind it. While Xu Xian acted callous with his life, Baizhu was just as flippant by the burdens of immortality.

However, the way he looks at you says otherwise.

The way he smiles at you while his arms embraced your figure in turn proved it.

"Acceptance is a point of no return." You warn one last time, "Nothing of you will remain—only the green ouroboros. I will go to sleep more and more for every time you wake with vitality. Someday, I will not wake up beside you anymore at all."

Baizhu tightens his hold as if spooked by the idea yet he smiles angelically at you. His hand rose to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear while yours tilted his glasses down teasingly in jest.

"I will relieve you of your burden." He proclaims, "I only ask that you live the remainders of this life with joy and no regrets..."

Audaciously, he leans forward until your lips were centimeters away from each other.

"...by my side."

Tears escape yet your laughter is most sincere.

"Then, the contract is sealed."

With your words, a kiss is exchanged.

Baizhu will have to live the rest of eternity knowing that he chose to let his beloved go to death. He will spend that same eternity persuading others to keep choosing life in exchange. His sole comfort is that it shall be a mutual choice—a mortal yet bountiful life together—between you and him.

You are destined to become his first grievance when he turns immortal.

That is the proof of love he can give you in return for your blessings, your heart, and—

"My dearest, for whom I embrace eternal damnation so you may rest."

•☆••☆••☆•

XIAO is a yaksha whose purpose lies within his many names under one mask. As General Alatus, he fought alongside his fellow yaksha brothers and sisters in the perilous era of the Archon War. As the Golden Winged King, he is respected amongst the adepti that serve Rex Lapis. As the Winged Nemesis, the stars acknowledged him enough to bestow the power of anemo. As the Conqueror of Demons, he works tirelessly against the undying darkness. As the Vigilant Yaksha, he became the last of his kind and a phantom that lingers within the Wangshu Inn.

All of these identities are united under one mask and one name: Adeptus Xiao.

It is both his shield and his bond.

Xiao can vividly hear the ringing of his real name being called in reverence by his comrades. He will sometimes linger from the hilltops at night to reply morosely. The sound is similar to a bird call from a distance, a mimicry of his true form. If he felt more sentimental in his solitude, he would even play a whole piece with the dizi flute.

In one such night, the last yaksha smelled the potent odor of hysterical panic and fear. It clashed against the putrid taste of hateful rage and sadism.

One soul is hunting for the blood of another.

By raw instinct, his mask took form upon his face as he dashed towards the origin of the scent. He was led towards Qingyun Peak. For a moment, he paused at the sight of burning qingxin flowers by his feet—a peculiar hint to what awaits him. The wind whipped against his hair and exposed arms, chilling his skin in a familiar brush. It pushed him to go even faster to save the victim of such malice.

A swirl of anemo green and inky black blur together as he finally arrived with spear in hand.

That was when Xiao first saw you.

A man twice your size had been choking you. Now, he was dead by your feet with a piece of broken glass stabbed into his jugular. However, you were clearly bleeding out as the rag you call a dress had been painted red. On the other hand, your flesh was in shades of black and blue. In some twisted sense, your face was left in pristine condition—churning Xiao's stomach, for he could guess the intention of your abuser. Your hair was matted due to sweat and grime, a splatter of dirt on your cheeks.

The imagery struck too much familiarity.

The Conqueror of Demons then gasped as he is forced out of reverie. You are losing consciousness while standing dangerously close to the edge of a steep cliff. Your chapped lips move as the wind carried your message to his ears.

Three words.

A plea for help. A desperation to live.

"Help...me...please."

Then, you fell back.

For Xiao, it felt like a surreal dream as he threw his body forward. His hand released his weapon and reached out towards you. A raw cry reverberated in his ears, distantly recognizing it to be his own. The yaksha willed his Vision to let him fall faster as his fingers grazed yours, until he managed to take hold of your hand.

With a strong pull, Xiao engulfs you in a tight yet gentle embrace—mindful of your fragility. In another swirl of green and black, he swiftly teleports to the Wangshu Inn.

That was the start of his life's chapter with you.

It actually took you three days to awaken, and an entire month to fully recover. Verr Goldet concluded that irreparable damage was done to your throat, rendering you indefinitely voiceless. Talking causes you pain, and straining yourself causes you to cough out blood. The yaksha has never met someone who can scream so loud in silence.

Alatus understood the feeling.

Although you never officially met your savior, Verr had told you everything you needed to know. While working through your physical rehabilitation, you made a habit of leaving almond tofu in a certain room. It is accompanied by a single honeyed qingxin flower, a pain-killing remedy that you learned as a child. Whenever you collect the plate in the morning, it is always empty. After three days, you grew bold and thus began to also leave a small note under the plate—just messages of goodwill or brief greetings to the Vigilant Yaksha.

"What a foolish mortal." Xiao murmured.

You never received a reply but you were far from disheartened by it.

After a month of this routine, the first sign of your savior's reciprocation was a freshly picked qingxin flower beside the empty plate.

That was the first time Xiao saw a genuine smile from you as he watched at a distance.

"Truly foolish indeed." He mumbled.

Everyone was pleasantly surprised by your hidden Pyro Vision. You can conjure different colors of wisp flames. Each served a purpose which the inn found very useful when you learned to control it.

Red is the most natural color, and enables the wisps to interact without burning anything. They can be touched in this state unless infused with anemo to cause Swirl.

Orange is the defensive color that produces barriers of all kinds. They serve as warning to anyone that provokes any harm or malice. Yellow/Gold is its secondary phase which makes the shield or wisps combust. It is also the color that engulfs your sword with your elemental skill and burst.

Xiao could not explain it but he is aware whenever you call out his name in your mind. There is always something tugging at his core ever since he began to reciprocate your small acts of affectionate goodwill. Whenever he follows it, he finds you—whether it is because you were praying to him, or because you were in danger.

He then consulted his fellow adepti but received no concrete answers. He would be lying if he claims to not be curious about this odd phenomenon, even if he just accepted in stride.

As time passed, the yaksha viewed you as a sort of companion for every silent call. It is an unspoken camaraderie, one he could not deny.

On the first anniversary of your meeting, Xiao gifted you the Primordial Jade Cutter.

On the second anniversary, you saw him vulnerable for the first time. Reduced to his knees, he gasped in pain as tendrils of black surrounded him—his karmic debt, as he called it. This was the price he had to pay for eons of slaughter. He warned you to back off in a raised voice, yet you persisted as your immaculate pyro swirled with his tainted anemo.

White is the color of healing, shining above the rest and burning hottest. It was your natural affinity, and he found it fitting on you—a soul most endearing and most loving. Alas, as the two elements danced and your flames purged the karmic debt within him, he had an epiphany. The bond you both nurtured over mutual exchanges of qingxin, the reason why he can hear a voice you can never use—they all point back towards her.

You stared at him in concern as you kneeled, joining him on the floor. Slowly to not spook him, your hand touches his cheek ever so tenderly. For all his strong abstinence, Xiao indulged your touch as he leaned into your palm. Your white flames dissolve the black miasma and the pain receded, if only for now.

However, as soon as he regained clarity, there was a spark of anxiety and disbelief in his catlike eyes.

Then, he vanished.

Xiao avoided you for weeks. A part of you felt a bit saddened by that but you ignored it. As long as he was taking care of himself, you had no reason to complain.

The next time you heard anything about him was from a gentleman named Zhongli.

You met the funeral consultant at the balcony of Wangshu Inn, which Xiao frequented whenever he is on standby. The older man smiled knowingly at you, inviting you for some tea. Then, he relays the news of the yaksha undertaking a perilous mission in The Chasm.

"Worry not," he told at the face of your concern, "I promise that he shall return to you."

For some reason, his tone made you blush like a girl exposed by the father of the boy she adores.

However, true to his word, Xiao returned safely.

Then, the yaksha told you to meet him at Qingyun Peak—the place of your first meeting.

You walked the familiar path in a strangely relaxed pace despite the bad memories. In fact, you felt overjoyed to see qingxin growing on formerly ashen grasslands. Rays of sunshine gold peek through the gaps of trees and their branches. You look up to see Xiao sitting alone by the cliff, staring ahead to oversee all of Liyue.

Xiao heard you coming and closed his eyes just as you sat beside him. He can feel your gaze analyzing him from head to toe. The warmth of your flames caressed his skin, likely seeking injuries in need of healing. His sore muscles are thus soothed but, to his curiosity, the flames linger on his arm.

Golden eyes open to see you dazedly observing his tattoo. Amidst the trance, your hand traced its shape and lingered when it pulsed aglow. He shivered at the sensation, making you pull back.

A silent apology was made by your lovely eyes.

Xiao said nothing to that, gazing at the setting sun once again.

"Indarias." He said.

You tilted your head in confusion.

The adeptus sighs somberly, eyes growing misty in recollections of old memories.

"The predecessor of your Vision," he clarified gently, "her name was Indarias."

That was the day Xiao bore his heart and soul open to you. He told you about his brothers and sisters, encouraged by his trials in The Chasm. He explains how they once swore blood oaths to each other. It carried to their Visions, and that is how he can hear you say his name even without a voice. After being confronted by remnants of Bosacius, he recalls what made him cower from you—the revelation that you inherited the power of Indarias. When he had been falling to his death, he recalls how his mind was only filled with thoughts of you.

Then, when that golden light saved him once again, all he could think was—

"I wanted to come home to you."

Xiao confessed as his eyes softened upon meeting yours. He raises a hand to your cheek, smiling as a blush coated your skin. Leaning forward, your lips met his for the first of many times. Your arms held him close, and it will be your shared secret how he shed tears upon this sacred act.

To embrace his future, Xiao had made peace with the fact he must let go of the past. He will carry the memories of the fallen and honor them; but he will now live for himself, and for you.

However, all things—good or bad—eventually must come to an end.

The karmic debt bore down more harshly than it has ever done. By instinct, Xiao sought your existence yet also wished to stay far from it. The result was teleporting to Qingyun Peak. He remained unaware to the flow of time, leaving you and those who knew of his plight to search for him. All he could think is how unfair everything felt. Just as he found the will to genuinely live his life, he was being taken away to the arms of death. In the past, all he wanted was to take flight with the birds in the sky—yet chose to remain grounded by contract with his lord.

Now, he has you.

He laments how he still wants to spend more time, to make more memories, with you...

...yet there is no time left for memories anymore.

"Xiao!"

Your echoing voice pierced through the excruciating haze of black. His mask was cracking. All he can do is lean on his spear. The Primordial Jade grew dull with each passing second.

"Stay back!" He yelled hoarsely.

You took a step, white flames lashing out.

"I mean it!" He shouted more frantically.

In an effort to get away and protect you, the yaksha backed himself to the edge. With wide eyes, he finds himself falling back in stumbling steps as his mask fully crumbled. The pupils of his eyes thinned into alarming slits before dilating into clarity as he saw you reaching for him. In practiced ease, his own hand moved to welcome yours yet he was getting pulled farther back. The image of the past overlaps with the present, the roles reversing—

—yet the wind still carried three words.

A promise by heart. A resignation to die.

Xiao smiled as his golden eyes softened, gleaming with tears of farewell.

"I love you."

His world is then consumed by black smoke, and you watched in horror. A glance at his fading Anemo Vision made you jump after him, reaching out like he did long ago.

You refuse to let it end like this.

Red embers swirled to chase after Xiao like dancing silk ribbons. They surround you in a vermillion shield, carmine transitioning into rustic amber. Your white flames burn brighter than ever. It fought against the dark karma which threaten to devour you.

Unabashed, you cried out even as you bled.

"Alatus!"

His real name. Not his adeptus name.

Time seems to slow into a stop for Alatus, whose eyes fluttered open. He felt the nostalgic comfort of heat amidst the coldest breeze. Mustering the last of his strength, he returns your embrace—a picture of bittersweet bliss. His left hand cradles your head and his free arm wraps around your waist.

"[Name], my foolish mortal..."

Alatus remembers the words of Indarias from long ago. She told him that only the wind can save a fire from dying and empower it. He had failed to do that when she burned herself to ashes in madness. The memory made him hold you tighter, beseeching.

He refuses to let that happen to you.

A tinkling sound of two Visions meeting echoes for all adepti to hear. By the breath of his anemo, your final flame awakens.

Blue is the color of rebirth. It allows the union of souls, merging ambitions to begin anew. This azure light symbolizes radiance of a newborn star, perhaps even the miracle of resurrection.

A majestic golden bird shrouded in cerulean flames rose above Liyue. It shrieked an ancient hymn while flying across the sky, free at last. Darkness is purged as if night turned into day, and the Fourth Descender bore witness. A pair of amber eyes watched from afar as their owner gave a meaningful smile.

This undying bond is a new contract signed by the Vigilant Yaksha and his mortal lover—

"As thou hath been promised to me, I offer mine whole self to thee."

•☆••☆••☆•

ZHONGLI is a god who has lived for eons, and has yet to begin his life at the same time. After his six millennia of existence, he has been known by many names and bestowed countless titles. Some are hearsay and some are legitimate—all are bonded through his contracts. As the Prime Adeptus, he is the warrior god named Morax whom subdued the rage of oceans and monsters by rain of spears. To the people of Liyue, he is the almighty Rex Lapis whom stood as the overseer of contracts, history, and commerce. By the word of Celestia, he is the Geo Archon whom holds dominion over the Rook Gnosis; and in the eyes of Teyvat, that made him god amongst gods even if he felt otherwise under the divine gaze.

When he finally stepped down from the throne and pedestal of glory, his words to the Traveler omitted a particular truth from them—

—that is, his reason of retirement.

Zhongli spoke of erosion, and even the merchant whom made him realize that his job was done.

However, he did not speak of you.

Of course, with two Harbingers present, his secrecy is understandably sound judgment. Nevertheless, even when he attained privacy to speak personally, he finds it hard to disclose about you. Perhaps, it is a draconic instinct to hoard and protect what he has claimed to be his.

The only other individual just as protective over any knowledge of your existence is Ningguang.

After all, the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing is also known as your dear older sister.

Ningguang raised you since the beginning, even if she had been a mere child herself. Your parents are never spoken, and you never asked. Even when you find yourself in comparison to other children with mothers and fathers, your older sister was always all you needed and wanted. Tirelessly, she carried you on her back while her arms were occupied by a basket of wares to be sold. Barefoot, she journeyed from the sands of Yaoguang Shoal to the main capital of Liyue Harbor to make ends meet. Every weekend, you will both scavenge anything that can be sold.

The first gift she ever bought you was an intricate erhu of the best craftsmanship.

It had been your smiles that told her everything will be worth the effort. It had been your songs that soothed the ache of muscles and the weariness of mind. It had been your words that invigorated her ambition to become something more.

"I love you, jiejie!"

"...I love you too, meimei."

Nothing would stop Ningguang from rising to the top and giving you the life you deserve.

Time is cruel to mortals and always issues a test of faith to see them thrive. In one such incident, it has been proven that you and Ningguang are true sisters in every sense of the word. Her determination can only be rivalled by yours, and the resolve which shine like stars in your eyes is unconquerable.

Your older sister had once fallen to sickness. She refused to tell you where she kept the money, not wanting to waste it to buy medicine. You furiously argued with her about it but nothing could change her mind. Thus, at the dark of night, you treaded the path towards Jueyun Karst. The entire map of Liyue has been engraved in your mind since you could walk. Even when nothing but black greets your blank eyes, it would have been child's play to travel into the abode of adepti.

That is, of course, if not for the adepti's indignant anger at your trespassing.

Fortunately, you stole a Sigil of Permission.

"My sister is ill," you told them, "and I require your aid to concoct a medicine."

You will never know that what eventually convinced them is how gold illuminated your form. It channels your soul, and then solidifies into a circlet. At its center, a Geo Vision proudly sparkled.

Mountain Shaper thus led you to collect herbs that you would need. Moon Carver carried you on his back while Cloud Retainer flew towards Yaoguang Shoal with Ganyu on hers to check on your sister. In the distance, the Conqueror of Demons obliterated all other threats that may come your way.

By morning, Ningguang was on a road to recovery and you thanked the adepti by playing your erhu for them every day.

Amongst these private performances, you ended up in Guili Plains alone.

A melody has been haunting your dreams. It is very melancholic yet profoundly moving, like a promise between lovers. The composition began to write itself in the abyssal void of your sight. Then, it played smoothly by your delicate hands on the strings. Your voice echoed across the plains, bequeathing a sense of serenity that mortals rarely have talent to supply.

The Lord of Geo has been enchanted as he listened to your lullaby.

"Milord, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Your inquiry was met with silence, but you can still feel his piercing eyes on you. Thankfully, you are patient as you are resilient.

The sound of footsteps made your ears perk up. You could not stop yourself from tilting your head to the direction of its origin. The omnipotence of adeptal energy dominated the air, making you dazed for a few seconds. However, there was a charming scent that you recognize. It belongs to a wild glaze lily, one especially helped to bloom by music.

Morax paused before where you sat, staring into your curious gaze looking up at him. The blindness clouded them yet your earnest intrigue made them shimmer glamorously. Autumn ginkgo leaves rain upon you whom sat beneath the shade of its tree, and he whom loomed over your mortal form. He lifts the glaze lily in his hand to bless its petals with a chaste kiss. Then, he slowly presents it to you.

A steady hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, planting the flower as an ornament. Your sensitive skin felt the callouses that must be from a lifetime of conquests. Alas, your cheeks only flush brightly at their tender caress. His fingertips glide through your tresses very subtly, giving you agency to pull away from his touch.

Morax pulls a lock of hair towards his lips, giving it the same attention as he did the glaze lily.

Then, with a promising smile, he lets go—

—and then vanishes in a blink.

That encounter was the first of many secrets you kept from your older sister.

A week later, a gentleman named Zhongli introduces himself to you. You narrow your eyes in suspicion and confusion. His presence, the aura of Rex Lapis, is unmistakable to you. Nevertheless, you respond with quiet acceptance while listening to his pulse settle down in relief.

It was not your place to question an archon anyway, nor is it your responsibility.

Aside from music, you always held fascination for botany. After refusing your sister's offer to live with her in the Jade Chamber, she built you an estate with a large garden and a quaint greenhouse. From here, you have invented a unique art known as Geo Crystalline Preservation. You use the flowers in your garden to crystallize them with your Vision, but retain their scent like a real flower. By this method, you manage to pluck wild glaze lilies and preserve their natural fragrance after cultivation.

Your first specimen was the glaze lily gifted by your archon, now a part of your circlet.

Suddenly, wild glaze lilies were being revived to its former vast numbers in your garden.

Your artform can be applied to anything too. It can become a stained glass decor, a clothing design, an unwilting bouquet, and even a way to preserve food ingredients. For this reason, your fresh business had immediately made connections with all sorts of exchange across Liyue Harbor. In turn, you have developed a very reliable information network that answers to nobody but yourself. Twice, a visit from Yelan made your heart swell with pride to know you have information that eludes her.

Zhongli was more of a consultant or an advisor who directs you to the most beneficial proposals. It can be most helpful whenever you felt lost in making critical decisions that require more tact. He even made it possible for you to create a strong alliance with the Feiyun Commerce Guild. A part of you is still uncertain if it was worth the hassle that the esteemed Young Master Xingqiu tends to bring to your doorstep.

By the words of Rex Lapis, the core foundation of contracts is fairness. Thus, you asked Zhongli what he wants in exchange for his hard work.

"I only wish for your company," Zhongli replied, "and—if you would allow it—a chance to court you."

A gentle kiss lands upon your forehead. It brought back flashes of your first meeting under the ginkgo tree, when he was a god rather than a mortal. You used names to keep them separate, yet this moment has proven that Zhongli is Rex Lapis and Morax.

A cor lapis by any other name would nonetheless be as resplendent.

Then, two years later, he proposed and you said yes.

That resulted to an interesting private discussion between Zhongli and Ningguang. Neither of them disclosed any details other than the fact your sister gave her sincere blessings for the marriage. The wedding was reserved yet was also nothing short of extravagant. The collaboration of your sister and fiancé had you expecting nothing less if you were being honest.

Another year later, the final Rite of Descension turns into a Rite of Parting.

You knew of Zhongli's plan. He had to confide the details to you, excluding the Tsaritsa's contract. It was the only way to persuade you into staying in Wangshu Inn for a few weeks, to make sure you do not get caught in the crossfire. He promises his intervention if all goes awry, if it endangers your sister as well as the rest of Liyue Harbor.

Then, it was all over.

Zhongli came home to kiss you with fervor you have never felt from him since your wedding night.

Later, the geo lines on his arms pulse with luminous glow in your marital bedroom. It reflected upon his amber eyes, pupils alternating between slits and dilation as his instincts purred. He closed his eyes with an inaudible sigh before projecting himself into your dreamscape.

As a blind person, you have an odd way of dreaming.

You only hear amidst the abyss and a composition always reverberates. When visited by him, everything gets reconstructed to a meadow of glaze lilies. At its heart is his Statue of the Seven. He had learnt that the imagery of stars twinkling above your heads is a sign that his own dreamscape had begun to merge with yours. A golden aurora borealis emanated pure geo energy, representing elemental resonance.

Always, the Geo Archon finds himself replacing his own self on the statue when he visits. He opens his eyes to the perspective of the statue. The illusionary Memory of Dust remains afloat beside him with a few geo crystalflies. He shall always find you fast asleep, wearing a hanfu composed of his colors. At times, your head is only resting on the armrest or his lap; and other times you are already in his arms. Then, he cradles you closely while he listens to the tunes you dream. He has grown familiar with most of them through your erhu. A few would baffle him, and he would then realize they are your unfinished compositions.

There was also one other reason he strictly kept you far from the events in the harbor.

You are with child.

Zhongli recalls the time you discussed the concept of illumination with him. It is the method of possibly enlightening a mortal to become an adeptus. The topic of you becoming immortal was only broached once and never again. Your own perspective in the matter was irrelevant, mostly because you were incompatible for the procedure. Although far from being an invalid, your constitution is not necessarily ideal for such arduous illumination.

The Lord of Geo was overjoyed when you relayed the news of your pregnancy the first time. Alas, when the celebratory mood had gone, the slap of reality finally registered.

This will be a difficult ordeal for you, carrying a child that is half-adeptus.

Yanfei was conceived and born by a human mother, delivered through a complicated pregnancy. The health concerns never seemed to end, and her mother's miraculous survival was only thanks to her tenacity according to her father. Even then, she is a mortal woman in perfectly good health.

If you were not capable of undergoing illumination, can you even survive this pregnancy?

No matter the answer though, Zhongli knows you are determined to persevere. For the sake of the life within your womb, you will endure all the hardships that will be thrown your way.

That fact is why he fell in love with you.

Perhaps, there was one thing he could do to help you even if it was not a full illumination.

As he once did for Azhdaha, the Lord of Geo can bless you the gift of sight.

You can see your child when they are born.

Zhongli lifts his head from where it rested on your crown. He tilts your chin up to gaze upon your visage and feel your breath against his skin. His fingertips grazed your eyelids, and the golden light of his geo energy engulfs the dreamscape. As everything fades into white, he leans down so his lips meet yours...

...and then, you both awaken.

However, for the first time, the haunting darkness that usually welcomed you has been replaced with color.

You saw a man hovering over you, lips millimeters apart from yours. Dark brown hair is embellished with honey gold, long strands gliding over his toned shoulders. Sharp amber eyes glared into yours, an unreadable sheen making them glow. Your hand reaches up to touch his fair cheek, thumb tracing the red outlining his gaze.

You realize. This is your husband.

"Zhongli...!" You gasped, tears in your eyes.

He smiles like a breathtaking work of art, a godly beauty that blessed you to be his wife.

"Hello, tian xin."

Your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him into an ecstatic embrace and blissful kiss. He obliges, taking all you have and giving you all that is his.

Someday, you will no longer stay by his side.

Nevertheless, the proof of your existence will live through your child—and so will the love, the miracle that conceived them, which you shared with him. As such, you will continue to shine like gold in his memories forevermore.

This is not a mere contract, but a solemn promise that even Celestia can never break—

"My memories of you are treasures not even erosion can steal away."

•☆••☆••☆•

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA is a free spirit undeterred by the might of the eternal lightning's glow. At the face of loss and grief, he continued to pursue the calling that has been delivered by nature's winds. Days are spent searching for truth with an old friend's legacy, a masterless Vision to accompany him across the unconquered seas. Nights are spent in mourning a home that disowned him, a moment to digress from the disgrace he was bestowed. His family name has always been a burden that weighed heavily on his heart, but his sword cuts down all obstacles by will of wind and cloud. The Archon who represented the element he wields preached the ideal of freedom, yet nobody ever spoke of its steep price. In contrast, the Archon of his homeland follows an eternity that rejects change and henceforth decrees to prohibit ambitions that yearn for it.

When a bird who wishes to fly is born in a nation that wants it caged, which path is seen as right to abide?

When a dream is not enough to conquer divine sovereignty, what sort of reality is left to live?

They say when the gods give you a blessing, you do not ask why it was sent. Alas, if that same gift has condemned you to a tormenting fate, what else can be done but question the reason behind it all?

Wings clipped yet uncaged,

The price of freedom is steep

Yet the bird still sings.

That was the answer Kazuha realized.

If nothing in hindsight can tell him what he wishes to know, then he must listen to the unseen. If neither god nor mortal can be persuaded with words, then perhaps he must find a better use for his voice.

Thus, the lost ronin let the wind lead...

...and he was saved by the lonely desert flower that thrived amidst the City of Contracts.

You were a fresh graduate from Sumeru, a brilliant scholar disillusioned by the leaking discrepancies of the Akademiya. They would have forced you to stay with threats thinly veiled as pleasant requests to promote the growth of wisdom. However, you knew the potential they see in you is naught but another way to cultivate the poison spreading deeper than the withering of the rainforests. It was only by aid of the former General Mahamatra that you managed to destroy all research the sages desperately wanted, and then narrowly escaped. Your freedom cost his position, but he reassures you that it gained him a friend—one he hopes can still find heart to return.

You promised him as much, the sincerest gratitude pulsing in your soul.

It was a little difficult to start from scratch, yet Liyue certainly helped as a city of commerce.

The only possessions you have left are the clothes you wear, the bow strapped to the quiver of arrows on your back, and whatever is stored as luggage on your shoulder bag. However, you hold an unyielding confidence in two things: your intelligence, and your Dendro Vision.

That is what eventually led you to apply for the recent job opening in Bubu Pharmacy.

Baizhu is a fair employer and an overall good person as company. He does feel a little suspicious with his odd remarks, especially in regards to his fragile state due to some unknown illness. He gives the vibe of someone who smiles politely yet always schemes something nefarious. Perhaps, it was your time with the corrupted sages that made you wary.

Nonetheless, he treats you well.

Moreover, he never once criticized your disability as a nuisance nor made you seem inferior for it.

Qiqi, on the other hand, is a very lovely and adorable girl with the occasional eccentricities. A knitted finch plush for her birthday was the deciding factor for her to proclaim you as her older sister. She keeps a particular notebook for every detail she discovers about you. Her free time is now spent cuddling with you for a nap, if not to help make your remedies.

Your cheeky boss commented that you both share the same eyes. He laughs when you glared at him for the implication that you look like an airheaded zombie. As an intellectual, it is not appreciated.

After a year of relishing your new life in Liyue, the heavens decided to throw another curveball.

As a renowned healer in Bubu Pharmacy, there have been many patrons that come to you for any sort of emergency. It is the real term of employment that makes Baizhu pay you heftily, at least compared to his other employees. It is also why your colleagues and some citizens in the harbor consider you the pharmacy's second doctor. Your affinity for dendro has greatly progressed any medicinal research. Your accompaniment of Qiqi allowed the forgetful zombie to discover new herbs—not much use alone, but vital ingredients in brewing affordable remedies.

Thus, one stormy night, a woman named Beidou came barging on your door.

"Lady Doc," she called out boisterously, "I need a little help here!"

A young man, bloodied and bruised, was on her back and worryingly limp. The famous captain of the Crux Fleet had a strained smirk on her face, and the rest of her was roughed up. Whatever ordeal they had to endure, it must have been truly dangerous.

Without further questioning, you provided treatment to these unexpected patients. Being informed that the man is a foreign fugitive made no difference to you. From his clothes, you have easily deduced that he is from Inazuma—which allowed your mind to fill in all the blanks on why he was condemned. After all, news had traveled fast across nations about the Sakoku Decree and the closing of Inazuma's borders. You take pride in your oath as a healer to treat anyone in need of care indiscriminately. If they end up doing harm to others afterwards, then you deal with it just as accordingly.

However, the lady captain is a woman of integrity and so you chose to trust her judgment.

What did annoy you was how Beidou decided to just leave a wanted ronin in your care. All she left was a note to take care of him—Kazuha, she says—and a winky face signed at the bottom. She also snatched a bottle of rum from your liquor stash.

Pirates can really sniff out any hidden treasure in a matter of seconds.

Qiqi visits you that afternoon. This is the routine if you are ever tardy or absent during working hours. It was part of your contract since Baizhu is well aware that being an accomplished doctor can attract the wrong sort of crowd. Not to mention, he has been informed of your situation with the Akademiya. The zombie's visits are to ensure your well-being. She will report to the Millelith directly, per Baizhu's instruction, if she thinks anything feels off.

You gave Qiqi a notice to deliver to Baizhu, a request for a short leave. It was the usual for whenever you become busy in treating personal patients. A small bottle of coconut milk was also given as reward for the little zombie's troubles. Her lips twitch up to a small smile as her eyes gain an affectionate haze.

"Thank you, jiejie." She says.

After receiving a headpat from you, she skips away adorably and giddily.

You closed the door with a sigh, turning to go back and tend to your patient. However, you were met with a glistening blade to your face and a pair of dazed yet still menacing red eyes. They glare at you defensively behind silver white fringes.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Kazuha demands.

To your chagrin, you fainted from shock.

Kazuha finds the note from Beidou which clarified the situation to him. He apologized profusely as his pale cheeks blushed from embarrassment.

A year later, that not-so-pleasant first impression has paved the way to an unlikely romance.

You stand by the docks of Liyue Harbor, anxiously waiting for the return of the Alcor. The last time you heard from your lover, he has informed you via letter that the Vision Hunt Decree was no more—thanks to the Traveler. However, he did not immediately return to your side for personal reasons. You did not pry, a touching act of understanding that deepened his affections for you. Kazuha promised that once he has tied the last loose ends of his past, he will never allow himself to part from you.

A part of you wondered if you are willing to do the same. There is a significant difference between the both of you that had caused conflict in the past.

Kaedehara Kazuha is a free spirit, always following wherever the wind leads him.

You are a person who thrives by staying in one place, like a blossom in fertile soil.

If given the choice, will he allow himself to stay tied down to you? Similarly, are you capable of uprooting yourself just to be with him?

The scent of maple leaves carried by the salty ocean breeze snaps you out of reverie. A delighted smile brightens your lovely features, knowing this aroma can only belong to one person.

Kazuha stands meters away with a heartfelt smile and a smitten look in his crimson eyes. He holds his arms open, and that was your cue to run towards his direction. The momentum caused you both to spin as he caught you, yet your lover only laughed at your enthusiasm. A mild tremble in his arms allowed you to know that he has missed you just as much.

"I'm back." He murmurs.

You tighten the embrace while he plants a lingering kiss upon your crown. His bandaged hand combs through your hair, smiling as petals were swept by his fingertips. A couple of yellow roses and pink carnations blossom from your intricate braids.

"Welcome back." You mumbled raspily.

Kazuha effortlessly hears your words that tend to go unspoken. You kept seeds in your hair ornaments as easy access for herbs by making them bloom with your Vision. At times, he plucks a leaf or two from them to play a tune for you. Even if you cannot hear it, you always present him a jubilant smile and an appreciative applause.

"Come with me." He signed to you.

Taking you by the hand, the humble samurai leads you to a secret meadow in a cove. It is a rendezvous spot known only to you and him, a fortress of respite and solitude from the world. A single oak tree stood at the center, where it is rooted firmly upon the patch of land surrounded by water. The lake and running streams glimmer, a hint of salt permeating the air to connote their origins. The rocky ceilings are sturdy yet possess fissures that allowed light to shine upon the clear waters. The many luminous corals provide illumination deep in the darkness, as sea creatures have made themselves at home. Various beds of flowers engulf the soil with vines crawling along the wooden trunk, showing age lines on its bark.

Kazuha gently sweeps you into his arms and uses his Vision to float over the bodies of water. He puts you on the flowerbeds, promptly lying down with his head on your lap.

You blink at him confusedly for a moment while he only smiled innocently. A giggle escapes your lips, indulging him as your fingers languidly ran through his hair. Your eyes are entirely on him, either reading his lips or paying attention to his signs as he led the conversation. He told you of his visit to his friend's grave, and how he wishes to take you there someday to introduce you.

The idea made you pause only for a split second, but your ever attentive lover notices anyway.

His crimson eyes open, catching your own forlorn gaze. His hand reaches up to your face, caressing to comfort.

"I also went to a special place afterwards with the Traveler, a unique archipelago that reflects one's heart." He said slowly, "The experience made me realize a few things about myself..."

His words trail off as his free hand takes yours to pull it towards his lips. Your knuckles are grazed by his tokens of affection, and heat covers your cheeks in response to his adoration. Kazuha kept his eyes on you, fondness swirling within their depths.

"...and it also gave me an epiphany about you."

At his words, he gradually sits up yet your hands are still entwined. Fair strands of silver-white glide along his movements, framing his youthful features.

Kazuha is always most enchanting to you whenever he lets his hair loose.

"I want to marry you, [Name]."

To emphasize his words, Kazuha procures a ring of sterling silver. Small rubies decorate its exterior to form the design of red maple leaves. A single name is engraved along the interior side using traditional Inazuman letters. You have seen it so many times that you knew how to read it even if you were not as fluent in the language.

楓原. Kaedehara.

A flicker of fear seeped into your wide eyes, but the steady hold of your lover's hand kept you anchored to reality. You know what he is asking of you and what he is offering in return. This ronin is willing to bind himself to you, boldly and fearlessly.

"On my next voyage," Kazuha says, "come with me to Inazuma. I wish to marry you in my homeland. There is little left to my noble name, but it would be my greatest joy to share it with you—"

He smiles wistfully, "—if you would have me."

Once again, the question confronts you.

Are you willing to do the same for him?

Kazuha receives your answer in the form of a vine wrapping around your entwined hands. It gravitates to his wrist like a corsage, and then blossoms.

His own eyes widen in glee as red and white freesias decorated the vine. The flower of ultimate trust coated in the color of passion and purity.

You are saying—

"Yes."

Kazuha almost sobs in relief as his hands shook but manages to slide the ring onto your finger. Suddenly, you tackle him in happiness to plant your lips upon his own vigorously. He returns your fervor, cupping your face to deepen the passionate kiss.

A soft zephyr blew within the cove, rippling the water and fluttering the leaves alongside the petals. It is a dance that unites two hearts as one, consummating a bond as everlasting as lightning.

Nobody could ever know your heart the way Kazuha does, and so it shall be his right to claim it. Similarly, no soul other than yours can encourage his spirit yet still enrapture it with the ties that bind.

Henceforth, this pair of soulmates will prosper with or without a divine blessing—

Soulbound, windsong bloom Amidst strife of unheard voice Love called me to you.

•☆••☆••☆•

KAMISATO AYATO is a man whose heart seeks an equally capable partner. The idea of one day having to choose another half is something to consider as part of his duty. After all, the head of a noble clan is responsible for ensuring that its bloodline continues to prosper. To sire an heir, he must someday select a bride. His choice will lead to the rise of a matriarch within the Kamisato Clan. It must be a woman with the caliber to lead as the gentle hand of the Yashiro Commission to his iron fist. A fierce yet kind soul is necessary to command the Shuumatsuban in his place should the need ever arise. Furthermore, if he must eventually settle for a loveless marriage, his desire is to at least gain a lifelong friend. They must have the same depth of loyalty to his family, and the same headstrong resolve to uphold their principles.

Otherwise, he is very certain any other whom wishes to stand by his side will only break. With how he acts and carries himself, the people of Inazuma are more inclined to agree. Indeed, a wife less than up to par would be nothing short of disappointing.

Be that as it may, the Yashiro Commissioner can be a complicated man to love.

Ayato is a man who lives his life wearing a thousand masks, with little to no distinction between his true self and facades. At the early deaths of his parents, he was a young boy that had been forced into the lethal grind of political battles. To protect his little sister, he took up the blade to eliminate those who threaten them amidst the power struggle.

Just like that, his heart became a closely guarded vault privy to a trusted few.

Loving Ayato is likened to water, the same element he wields as weapon and shield. In calm days, he is transparent and clear to see. In chaotic nights, his own motives are harder to understand. There are times he can be as volatile as rapids, and others be as nurturing as a cool spring.

The most dangerous thing about loving Ayato is if you allow yourself to drown in him.

Alas, all of Inazuma is left dumbfounded when he abruptly announces his marriage to you.

The Yashiro Commissioner had gone missing for a week. A note with his penmanship claims he has a personal errand to run. Then, he returns to the estate—holding your hand while another clenches a scroll, sealed by the wax insignia of the Narukami Shrine and the Raiden Shogun. A glance at your respective hands reveal the glint of silver wedding bands, with camellia flower engravements filled by white jade.

Kamisato Ayato eloped with you.

"From here onwards," Ayato declared, "[Name] shall be living in the Kamisato Estate as my wife. Please treat her with the same respect you do for me."

The idea seems to intimidate you, a frown tugging your lips. Your husband, however, squeezed your hand in reassurance. Pacified, you end up snuggling your cheek onto his arm. The action is successful in grounding your senses, focusing on Ayato's scent and body heat. He obliges this by gently pulling you closer, practically trapping your own arm to his side.

Ayaka hid a smile of amusement behind her fan, as her eyes softened in endearment.

"Of course, brother." She replied.

Thoma nodded, beaming in welcome as you peeked at him and the young miss. Despite their slightest reservation upon this rushed turn of events, they trust Ayato.

Although, the Shirasagi Himegimi cannot help but feel you looked somewhat familiar.

You are a very peculiar woman, especially in a nation as conservative and traditional as Inazuma. In fact, some believe you seem more like an antithesis to your husband. Whereas he is always poised and very composed, there is always an untamed ferocity in you that refuses to comply to social norms. You can nonetheless dress as elegantly as any other noble aristocrat, speak as eloquently as any well-educated lady. If not for your infamous eccentricities, nobody would have doubted why Ayato chose you. It is quite renowned by gossipers that you shamelessly stroll Inazuma City in a commoner's yukata—a messy bun for a hairstyle, and sometimes going barefoot. You despise social events and acted more elusive than your husband.

The servants were initially wary yet none of them can deny your positive influence. The household has never been so efficient and organized until you took on managing its affairs. Thoma was astonished to realize that he ended up with more free time under your authority. The meticulous way you stick to a form of schedule and your quick wit to adapt have enabled the Kamisato Estate to operate smoothly, with or without the siblings present. In fact, some unique tasks you assign to Thoma aided him into securing businesses in Ritou. As equal exchange for your patronage, you have flawlessly expanded the Shuumatsuban's spy network.

Ayaka also found respite in her endeavors as face of the clan. She initially had a difficult time with being your mentor of sorts in the life of nobility. However, your creativity in problem solving and innovative thinking has been great in helping balance her own matters.

Thoma began to understand your ways when he has become in charge of all your meals. There is a set routine for every day of the week, and then a specific assortment of snacks with tea expected at certain hours. Each ingredient is meticulously picked and every dish is carefully prepared. If even one thing is out of place, you will notice with a single bite/sip and you would refuse to eat—which results to a very moody mistress for the rest of the estate.

It was only thanks to how well Ayato knew you that everyone else was able to keep up. He is aware of all factors to your behavior and how to aptly respond to them. His stern yet precise instructions left no room for mistakes if it meant taking care of you properly in his absence. It was as if he grew up with you due to the sheer amount of experience he has in how to deal with your odd patterns.

As months passed, Ayaka finally realized.

That is because her brother did grow up with you.

Ayato met you long ago when he was a mere lonely boy, burdened with the title of clan heir. He found you digging around the beach near his estate, an Electro Vision on your waist. A line of seashells were set on a flat rock beside you, all arranged by type as rows and by size as columns.

You glanced up at him. Your Vision flickers, making him tense—

—and then lightning struck the sands.

As a boy, Ayato watched in awe as the grains turned into glass. You manipulated the temperature of the element, heating the sand in quick seconds to create multiple pieces. He ended up getting closer, and it was enough to spook you. After you were finished, you hastily stood up and collected your things before sprinting away.

"Wait...!" Ayato exclaimed.

You did not listen.

The young master pouted, thinking he would never see you again. It was a shame since he found you so fascinating. He looked down and saw some strange hollow tubes in the shores, resembling coral.

That day, he went home a little despondent.

Ayato was pleasantly surprised to see you again the next day—same place, same hour. You are polishing the shells this time, and occasionally refining them to the shape you want. Small pots of paint surround you, and the Electro Vision is pulsing to be used at any given notice.

This time, you did not run when he got close.

"Fulgurite."

He flinches as you suddenly spoke. Your eyes were focused on the glass tubes he picked up. They hung from the string of his obi now, which got odd looks from his parents a while ago.

"These...?"

You nodded, "They are fulgurites. You can use them to make jewelry. Want to see?"

That was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Ayato figures out your schedule and how you like sticking to it, so he never misses out on visiting you. It was actually something you never minded as long as he remained consistent. The times when he did not get the memo, you got annoyed and told him harshly to stop showing up. At first, he felt hurt since he misunderstood. Thankfully, he was mature enough to clarify it with you. Since then, he promised his arrival only on particular days wherein he can assure his free time. At his words, you acted less bothered by his presence and worked on your craft.

The two of you grew up together in those constant stolen moments. He finds out you have a younger brother, and he tells you he has a younger sister. On weekends, you are not on the beach. That is the only time your brother is able to spend time with you instead of honing his swordsmanship.

In stormy days, he had to struggle pulling you into the estate. Every time, he braced himself for your ire but patiently coaxes you over it. The most effective method is to occupy your mind with something else, and let your hands be busy crafting. Once you are fixated, Ayato can be allowed into your safe space again and he is able to take care of you. Henceforth, rainy days are spent in his estate and that became the new norm for your daily routine. Ayato adapts by creating amendments to your unhealthy habits.

You still persistently argue that storms are perfect for making petrified lightning glass.

Nevertheless, you express gratitude for his sincere care and affection. No one has ever been so doting on you aside from your brother. In turn, Ayato felt touched that you treat him as one of the only two people you explicitly trust. You even adjust yourself to be considerate of his own needs, despite the clear discomfort it sometimes caused you.

When his parents died, you were his greatest pillar of support.

Ayato has always known to never underestimate you in any way. What made you different did not make you dumb. In fact, it is revealed in that dark period that you were more brilliant than your peers. It was only thanks to your guidance that he found direction how to proceed. It was due to your judgment that he knew who to trust, which ties needed to be severed for safety. Every critical decision was consulted by you, and he was awed when the results you predict come to fruition. When his demons made him lose sleep, you provided relief by playing with his hair.

When he finally triumphed in the succession, you gave him a precious gift.

You smiled. Of utmost sincerity, you smiled ever so sweetly and so warmly.

That is the day Ayato knew you were the one.

Unfortunately, he had taken too long to confess that to you. Too many years slipped past his fingers due to his obligations.

Then, the Vision Hunt Decree happened—

—and you went missing.

A young man named Kaedehara Kazuha barged into his estate, panicked and distressed. He called for Ayato, kneeling as he pleaded for help in finding his older sister—you. The wind has gone silent regarding your whereabouts, and he feared the worst due to the recent decree.

Of course, the Yashiro Commissioner wasted no time in utilizing his power to be of aid.

It was for naught.

Soon, he could not even protect your brother when the young man was branded as a wanted criminal.

Kazuha witnessed the love Ayato holds for you—a passion he deems worthy of his kin. He knew of the bond you shared with him, which is why he came to the man for help. Meeting the man personally, the winds crooned in approval—to which the ronin only smiled, a little resigned yet mostly relieved.

Someone else can take care of you now.

"Aneue spoke of you fondly." He said, "If anyone can find her, it's you."

The younger male presents him a box.

"She called it a tassel chime," Kazuha explained, "and referred to that piece as Rainmaker."

It contains a small windchime in the size and design of a tassel, thus the name. A pair of clamshells tie the knot for the noose. Camellias on rippling waters is carved onto the blue glass, painted with glittering golden lacquer. Instead of a striker, a ball of glowing white jade is inside the spherical glass with a cowrie shell at its base. The tail is a familiar indigo satin ribbon, his gift to you on the last Irodori Festival. His name is embroidered in your favorite fulgurite threads, and yours on the other side:

Kaedehara [Name].

Ayato knew this is the equivalent of a blessing. He ties it to his sword, aware by use of elemental sight that the energy within it will prevent the glass from breaking even in a skirmish. He makes a promise to your brother that he will stop at nothing to find you, and ask for your hand in marriage.

Eventually, he did.

You stood in an abandoned temple amidst the call of summer. The crystalflies illuminated your form, and the water shimmered like liquid diamonds. Tinkling sounds echoed in Chinju Forest, as the sails of windchimes blew with the nightly breeze.

"[Name]..."

At the call of your name, you turned to face him and Ayato embraces you immediately.

"I want to go home." You murmur.

The broken tone of your voice devastated him, and he nods while tightening his arms. You hugged him back, hiding your face on his chest while his nuzzled your shoulder.

"Yes, let's go home now." He whispered.

The Yashiro Commissioner spared nothing at your expense. He used the name of Kamisato to protect you. As his wife, you are now an integral part of the Tri-Commission and one with the Raiden Shogun's faction. You cannot be touched by the decree like your brother feared. Although you desire no riches, Ayato sought to provide something that will soothe your unease at the drastic changes in your life.

Thus, in an isolated wing of the estate, there was your personal workshop.

A safe haven. All for you.

Ayato leaned back with you in his arms, cuddling by the veranda. You were sorting through your brother's letters, worried, and missing him dearly. Looking up at your husband, he smiles and kisses you fervently.

"I'm here." He reassures.

You wrap your arms around his neck in response, snuggling his chest to nap. He adjusts you on his lap and rewraps the blanket around you. His long fingers comb through your hair, humming contently.

Heartbound lullabies in hiraeth, ever so mellifluous—

"You are my clarity amidst sullied waters, a wish to forever keep."

•☆••☆••☆•

THOMA is an ordinary ember within a hearth filled by unfathamoble wonders. He was born from a marital union between a woman of Mondstadt and a man of Inazuma. Amidst these contrasting cultures, he grew up fitting into the crevices resembling lacquer filling the cracks of porcelain. As a young man, he became quite a jack-of-all-trades that can help practically anyone in need—no matter the odd job presented to his capable hands. On his free time, he shares small treats with homeless animals. He fights off the urge to adopt every single one, and remains content to supply them a sanctuary. Perhaps, a part of him feels a kinship as he sometimes fancies seeing his own image to be that of a stray. Having two origins can often lead to confusion of where a person truly belongs.

Alas, this blond fixer-upper carries a beaming smile every time he greets the sun. For him, bridging gaps presents a hidden beauty that can only be found in imperfections, fixing the broken yet appreciating its flaws. While he does not always have a solution for everything, it never stopped him from trying.

Nevertheless, there have been times wherein Thoma also seeks some respite.

The Sakoku Decree added to it.

What terrifies him the most is having something to lose, more than just his Vision—

"Thoma, darling, where are you?"

"Ah!" He yelps as he stumbles towards the direction of your voice, "Over here, [Name]!"

—and that is someone to protect.

Bright green eyes see you turn up at the entrance of Komore Teahouse. You sat daintily and elegantly on your wheelchair, a carefully wrapped bento resting upon your lap. Despite being a mere commoner, you carried yourself with a dignity that can rival even the most affluent nobles of Inazuma. Being dependent on a metal seat never deterred people from feeling the promise of recompense should you be slighted.

Thoma smiles tenderly as he meets your gaze, to which you respond heartily.

The bout of excitement caused you to unwittingly freeze the ground beneath you. Swiftly, your lover discreetly melts it away by going near you before any guards notice your small demonstration. His eyes glanced around the perimeter to double-check, sighing in relief when he deems it safe.

"Ah," you gasped, "I'm sorry."

He chuckles nervously, "It's fine."

You and Thoma are childhood sweethearts. You were a very lonely orphan raised by the nuns. That played a part to your distinguished mannerisms. The Church of Favonius had instilled the etiquettes of a proper lady upon you at a young age. It probably made them all the more protective due to how you were paralyzed from the waist down. This made you bond with a girl named Glory, whom also lives with a disability that left her world dark since her birth. Of course, that did not halt you from sneaking out to play in the streets and getting your dresses dirty. A short adventure is what led you to meet the young blond boy whom quickly became your world. He, who offered a hand, took you to many other such adventures rather than persuading you to stay at home like an invalid.

"Life is short," he said, "you ought to relish it the best way you can rather than obsessing over what you can't do. I'll be your friend to help!"

Thoma showed you how to seize the day and claim the world as your own. He spent each Windblume proving it by giving you mismatched flower crowns, trying his best with clumsy fingers. You were invited into his home countless times as if it was yours too, with warm family dinners and cozy sleepovers. All that he could share with you, he did so with utter delight as if it was a privilege to be your friend—even if you felt it should be the other way.

Can anyone really blame you for being so smitten even as a young girl?

When he decided to set off for Inazuma, you did not hesitate to go with him.

The nuns were sad to see you leave, but the will of Barbatos clearly blessed you for it. The thousand winds have spoken, and they wish to lead you to the boy that has won your heart.

Life in Inazuma did not start as smoothly as you both had wanted. Your boat got wrecked in the storm but, for that one time, it became your turn to protect Thoma—to be the knight. Fear came first like a coiling serpent around your heart, and then you felt the warmth of his arms covering you. They stayed determined even as they shook, and your soul was inspired to take action. Heat turned into blistering coldness that froze every drop of rain, turning them into icicles in the shape of sakura petals. Together, they converged as fractals that carried you and your beau to safety within a dome of ice.

At the face of the eternal lightning, a blizzard defied the gods and earned their favor in turn.

The eye of storm was you.

From then onwards, the Kamisato Clan provided you both a home and way of sustenance. In gratitude, Thoma did everything he could as proper repayment; and whomever wins his favor shall have yours. At some point, you found a stable job for yourself in the Yae Publishing House as a minor editor. However, the keen amethyst gaze that focused upon you saw something else—a hidden gem brimming with the potential to move hearts via the quill.

Apparently, your calling is to be a writer.

Guuji Yae herself had mentored you after growing fond of your little snippets she caught in drafts. It got lost amongst the transcripts you were editing and ended up in her hands. A part of you suspected she blatantly stole it like the cunning vixen she truly is, no matter how nicely she treats you. Nonetheless, you were grateful for her direction since the kitsune remained sincere in her platonic affections for you—especially when you dedicated your second novella to her. The first was obviously for Thoma, featuring Mondstadt and then the Kamisato Clan.

Both were shocking bestsellers immediately, and Yae Miko sought to reward you.

"Would you like me to personally officiate your wedding someday?" She teased.

You blushed heavily at the sheer thought of marrying Thoma, excited yet flustered. Your words stuttered and the pink vixen only laughed at how adorable you looked. She was so tempted to pinch those soft and rosy cheeks but practiced her restraint.

You fiddled with your fingers as you turned away to watch the cherry blossom rain.

"Maybe someday..."

A pair of pink fox ears twitched upon hearing your gentle whisper. It sounded every bit like a woman in love, passionate and unconditional. A genuine smile shows itself on the Guuji's lovely face, feeling her own heart swell at the face of true romance. It may not be her favorite genre, but it was still dazzling to see in real life—especially amidst treacherous times.

"Then," Yae chuckled, "just set a date and I shall ensure to keep my schedule free...like tomorrow~!"

You blush again and whined for her to stop teasing just once. This time, she did not resist pinching you while she fawned over your pathetically whimpering self.

Perhaps, marriage can be in your future with Thoma if fate shall someday allow it. He was really the only one you can really see beside you until death do you part. In that perspective, you can comprehend a bit of the eternity that the Raiden Shogun so earnestly preaches and imposes.

For now, you were content to just let things naturally take its course—and that means indulging a lunch date with your boyfriend.

Thoma noticed that you have grown busier since that lunch date. He shrugged it off since you did mention your new tedious tasks in the publishing house. A part of him worried for your health but he also trusted the fact you would tell him anything amiss. In the meantime, he focused on the odd jobs he had to do in Ritou as well as housekeeping for the Kamisatos as per usual. It was a little challenging sometimes to even manage to share a meal or a bed together nowadays.

You have missed each other dearly.

Therefore, he felt his world crumble when he finally unveiled your secret.

Yae Miko sent a missive to the Kamisato Clan, in which she asked for a private audience. She insisted for Thoma and Ayaka to visit the Narukami Shrine, to which they obliged curiously. They surely did not expect Shikanoin Heizou to also be seated in the Guuji's secluded waiting room.

"A propaganda...?" Thoma said in disbelief.

A series of light novels have been distributed to the masses. It featured a story that referenced the tales of allogenes whose Visions have been confiscated, and the gruesome confrontations with Watatsumi Island as a result of the ongoing civil war. The plot is a very clever camouflage. On hindsight, the premise was written in such an ingenious way that none of the novels can really be used as legitimate proof of treason. They were inconspicuously clean enough to be dismissed as fiction. Alas, rumors have spread about the rebels gaining more manpower by the day since the publication of the novels. Thus, Kujou Sara suspected that the supposedly innocent pieces of literature were being used as tools of espionage and communication.

It was enough to warrant an investigation.

The detective nodded gravely, "Their identity has not been revealed since they use a pen name. We did deduce a pattern of sorts but nothing conclusive."

"By that," Yae interjects smoothly, "nothing that the Tenryou Commission can use to gain an official arrest warrant."

Ayaka opens her fan to shield the lower half of her face, retaining composure.

"You have a suspect?" She inquired.

"It's quite elementary." Heizou smirked wryly, "The culprit simply needs three things to accomplish this impressively troublesome feat."

He held up an index finger, "They hold power in the media—specifically journalism—which means they are associated with a prestigious publishing house that enables them to release works anonymously."

His light olive green eyes glanced at the kitsune, whom was sipping her tea calmly.

"Next, they work with an organization that functions as a stealth protection service. This is what has kept them safe in the shadows, while eluding the pursuit of the Tenryou Commission."

He then glances at Ayaka, particularly alluding to the Shuumatsuban of the Yashiro Commission.

"Finally," he then meets Thoma's eyes, "they have an extensively developed information network. This can be achieved if they make social connections daily, or simply just by being a figure trusted by the civilians."

Heizou smiled blithely, "There is also the fact I have noticed a pretty dove looking into the Visions that have been confiscated by the recent decree..."

An almost remorseful sigh escapes his lips.

"...and I may have shared a thing or two about the names of these Visions' owners."

"So this is your fault~?" Yae sang mockingly.

It was perfectly clear to everyone in the room.

You are the prime suspect that Heizou is targeting.

Thoma should have seen this coming. He was not blind to how you so deeply empathize with those affected by the recent decrees. There have been nights wherein he saw you staring balefully at your Vision—not for having it, but for being unable to proudly wield it.

"What is to be done?" He asked.

Heizou frowned sympathetically, "I am partly at fault which is why I sought to lead the investigation. I will not arrest her since, as mentioned, there is truly no sufficient evidence for a warrant."

A wave of relief for everyone, yet Thoma froze at the cold glare from the detective.

"However," he said, "we do need to close the case if only to get Sara off our backs. Investigations have found traces of elemental energy—cryo, to be precise—in the books to keep it preserved from aging or being destroyed. I can use that to push for the closing of the case."

Ayaka grimaced behind her fan, "You mean to say that she—"

"—needs to surrender her Vision." Heizou nods, "It will be my proof to Kujou Sara that the suspect has been apprehended and no longer a threat."

"Of course," he looked at Yae, "this also means you will have to suspend Miss [Name] from making any more of those controversial novels."

The priestess sighs morosely, "How dull."

In the end, Thoma's shield could not protect your own ambitions.

You made no fuss in handing over your Vision to the young detective. In fact, you seem almost at peace if not for the flicker of resentment in your eyes as they look upon Tenshukaku. When Heizou left, Yae and the Kamisato siblings have asked why you put up no fight despite your avid rebellion so far.

"I have done my part in this battle," you said, "and the rest is up to those who will face Baal."

The fact you so boldly used the Shogun's god name showed your obstinate courage.

Yae, in particular, grinned slyly as she has proven herself once again to have an eye for talent.

Ayato and Ayaka remarked how Thoma is truly lucky to have someone like you.

Regardless, some things cannot be defeated by will alone. The loss of your Vision gradually took a toll on you like the rest. You grew physically weaker, at times unable to leave bedrest. You became mentally absent, missing portions of your day often. Soon, Yae did not even need to suspend you whom already struggled to write anything of worth now.

Thoma has lost count how many sleepless nights he had woken up to your shaking form, and then having to comfort you in his embrace. The entire Kamisato Estate can hear your raw and mournful wails as they also felt your loss from afar. Your personal study has been ransacked due to frustrated anger—with inkwells spilled, parchments either left crumpled or torn, and splinters of broken brushes scattered on the floor. All your lover could do was put back the pieces of your broken heart in a frail effort to keep it from being bled dry. Pain and sorrow meant that you have not gone empty, meaning you still fight even while hopeless.

The Traveler steps into the docks of Inazuma from aboard the Alcor.

"Ahoy there!" Thoma greeted.

He could not salvage your dreams yet he does not falter in carrying your heart. Unfortunately, the storm was still ruthlessly devouring you. There may not be anything left of you in the end if this continues.

Nevertheless, he refuses to bow down and just give up on you now.

Regimes can be toppled, kings overthrown, and he would conquer all because—

"I am the shield of fire to her lance of ice, steadfast as we are defiant."

•☆••☆••☆•

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