#wedding story event

[writingwhimsey]

"I Do, My Love!" Story Event Round Two

Mitsunari

Pt 1: The Proposal

Pt 2: The Wedding

Pt 3: The Wedding NIght

Epilogue

Shingen

Pt 1: The Prposal

Pt 2: The Wedding

Pt3: The Wedding NIght

Epilogue

Kenshin

Pt 1: The Proposal

Pt 2: The Wedding

Pt 3: The Wedding NIght

Epilogue

[egophiliac]

LEON

LEON YOUR EYEBALLS

[sevenines]

i saw this tweet and found it interesting for two reasons. one is that some people base how good cartoon network would be to toh by how it treated su, and despite the fact that su’s treatment by the network was considered poor at the time, now its thought to be exceptionally good in comparison to modern shows.

two is how exactly su got impacted by a limited budget. a common criticism is how characters like connie, peridot, and lapis are left out of missions. but balancing a lot of characters is not only hard but also costly (extra animation, extra voices—it’s been revealed that the show is limited to a set number of characters per episode otherwise they’re over budget). animation mistakes are not uncommon since retakes cost extra. the entire reason the original show got cut short was due to loss of funding!

[pjsk-story-summaries]

Want to know everything that's ever happened in Project Sekai but don't have time to read all those stories? Guess what! For the low, low price of "it seems fun", I'll be summarizing every single event!

Feel free to request any summaries or card stories you'd like to see summarized. You may also submit your own summaries, if you'd like! Use the forms found in this post to do so :)

If you have a question about any of the stories as well, feel free to ask and I will do my best to answer! (Or just come and say hi :3)

If you'd like to use any of these summaries as part of a project (i.e. video essay, character analysis, etc.), you are more than welcome to! Just please credit this blog when you do so, since I do put a lot of work into each.

I try my best to get 1-2 summaries out a week, but i’m a busy college student doing this in my spare time, so things might be slow!

Masterpost links below the cut. All summaries will be tagged by unit, character appearances, and special type, if applicable.

THE ULTIMATE MASTERPOST SPREADSHEET

(Spreadsheet contains organized, filterable lists of all events and cards! I've tried making it as accessible as possible, but if you're unfamiliar with Google Sheets, just ask and I'll show you how to navigate it!)

Old Masterposts below! (Out of date, no longer maintained)

Key Stories

Leo/need

MORE! MORE! JUMP!

Vivid BAD SQUAD

Wonderlands x Showtime

Nightcord at 25:00

Mixed Events

Year 1 (Run! Sports Festival Committee Rush! - Scramble Fan Festa)

Year 2 (Time to Hang Out - At this Festival Bathed in Twilight)

Year 3 (Screaming!? Welcome to the Forest of Wolves! - Hello • Good • Day)

Year 4 (The Best Picture Wrap! -Wedding Live ♡ With Everyone!)

Card Stories

Any event card stories will be linked next to their respective events, as well as within the summary itself. (Initial 3* cards are part of the Main Stories)

Initial 1*/2* (Including 3rd Anniversary)

Birthday Cards

Fes Cards / Bloom Cards

Collaboration Cards

Card stories for events yet to be summarized

Miscellaneous

April Fools

[velisle]

William not you too 💀

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 17, 2021 1:00 a.m. paradise hotel

[grant] you can have first dibs on trying. my family on all sides and in all countries have been too successful at matching people.

[henry] time to humble them?

[grant] besides, mama ong didn't get a chance with you. you figured it out a decade ago!

[henry] two decades ago if you count the time soobin and i crossed paths in vacation bible school and she kind of sort of ruined my watercolor painting of jesus.

[grant] isn't that crazy? the same girl you, uhhh, almost punched in a church is the same woman you fell in love with at a college cheese club meeting?

[henry] the enemies to lovers trope lives on.

[grant] you're basically a fanfiction. enemies to lovers plus soulmates because neither of you ever dated anyone else.

[grant] man, the universe is so weird. seven plus billion people on earth and you guys run into each other twice.

[henry] the first time was a total fluke, too. how were we at the same VBS when we didn't go to the same church or live in the same town? oh, and we didn't recognize each other from our first encounter until years into our adult relationship.

[insook] her family seems to have forgotten the incident, too. permanently, though.

[insook] which is good because i defended you when i shouldn't have and things got ugly.

[henry] you defended me?! mom, i threatened to punched someone. in a church. over nothing worth that level of aggression.

[insook] oh, not for that. that's unforgivable. you knew that. i punished you. but i defended you when soobin's mom insulted you. now don't worry - she likes you these days!

[insook] still, a parenting tip: you can never reason with a parent in an unreasonable state.

[henry] i could have gone without knowing that. i'm not going to bother asking what she said about me. i find her intimidating. she's like if your mom wasn't evil, grant.

[grant] you know, that's extremely hard to imagine. i'll just assume you mean rich and strict.

[insook] that would be about right. but she is nice! oh, look at the time. i have to go now, i'm sorry. i have book club soon!

[henry] that's fine! have fun. i'll call you back tomorrow.

[insook] of course. you two have fun as well! yes, have fun, sleep well, make sure you eat, and mind your health, grant.

[insook] by the way, i'm glad you're still best friends.

[henry] couldn't have it any other way. this guy's pretty cool.

[grant] i literally adore you.

[insook] i'm not surprised–just happy. a good friend is one of the only things in life that can be forever.

[insook] now don't forget to call me again! i love you kids.

[henry] i would never forget. love you.

[grant] i love you, too, mama ong! bye bye bye.

[antiquatedsimmer]

🌻❤️Josephine Coombes Harrington, Welcome to the family❤️🌻

Colored Photos & Subtitles Below:

Friday, 1907 Dear Journal,

Today started early with Mama rousing me and Pa before the sun for Si's wedding. Si, true to form, seemed uninterested, bored even, as we made our way to the church yard.

Despite a soggy autumn, today turned unexpectedly pleasant. Clear skies, a welcome break from the week's thunderstorms. However, I think Ma is stressed, she kept nagging about walking with my skirt up to avoid dragging it through the mud....

The ceremony was small, Only Josephine's parents and Jackson with his fancy wife, bothered to show. I tried my best to focus on Mama's words from yesterday, And I could see why Jackson favored her.

Skinny, porcelain pale, dripping in expensive jewelry....everything I am not. However, as Josephine graced us with her entrance, any inkling of comparison vanished.

Radiance enveloped her, surpassing the boundaries of mere beauty. She embodied something ethereal. A sunlight aura surrounded her, and I found myself akin to a sunflower, unable to avert my gaze.

Even Si seemed genuinely happy, I saw him smile from ear to ear, he clasped her soft delicate hands, and caressed her cheek.

It was a sight to see, physical or emotional affection have never been his forte, not even in our childhood.

He was initially furious with Pa over the prospect of marrying Josephine. I remember his enraged shouts, echoing from the parlor.

Confidentially, Journal, I've noticed his practiced performance of donning the façade of a gentleman and a devoted son, particularly when in Mr. Coombes' presence.

Whether genuine or an act, my earnest prayer is for him to treat Josephine with the respect she deserves. I hold a genuine fondness for her, and I welcome her warmly into our family.

Lucile Harrington

[chussyracing]

thank you @presdestigatto for tagging me 😚

tagging @balaclavacharles @never-looked-so-good @ferrariprince16 @dobbiamo-capire @charlescherie @caffeinatedlovergirl @debushit and anyone who would like to do this - you are legally obliged to say i was the one to force you to do it

[rou-luxe]

"yes, the princes will be getting alternate outfits!!"

"what for?"

"season 3 routes!!"

"yes, crown + vogel will be getting alternate outfits!!"

"what for?"

"Limited Events."

[shipsarebeautiful]

You may think your OTP is the best ship, but have your faves ever intentionally and single-handedly crashed a cryptocurrency together? 🤨

[xproskeith]

I got some GREAT shots for the Heathens set at Chicago night 2! My wife and I got SUPER excited because the lighting color choices were our exact wedding colors (we got married in December 2023 after getting engaged at the final show of the Icy Tour)!

[deus-ex-mona]

when the lip differs from the lip

[mini-uzzy]

RAAAAHHH RAAAAHHHHHH!!!

[slightlytoastedbagel]

thinks about Kohane Azusawa and photography (explodes)

[asmodeusamaryllis]

Omg I forgot how much I adore the sumeru cast

[shivunin]

Lock and Key

(Arianwen Tabris/Zevran | 2,298 Words | Hurt/Comfort | CW: Blood, brief references to torture and broken bones)

The torture, Zevran thought cynically, truly left something to be desired. 

Rather, he seemed to recall—when he’d been a young Crow, there’d been racks, burning oil, things hammered between one’s toes…But this? Breaking his fingers? Slapping him around?

It lacked  forethought.

It lacked…panache.

“I do not mean to complain,” Zevran told his torturer, spitting out a mouthful of blood, “But have you done this before?”

“What?” the hooded figure snarled, only their mouth and jaw visible beyond the hood and fabric they were swathed in. 

“Mmm,” Zevran said, peering up at them through one swollen eye, “It is only that you are…how shall I say it? Trying too hard, you understand? Most torturers—they adopt a certain style, a way of getting things done, and you seem—”

The figure reared back and kicked him in the chest. His lungs struggled to inflate for a moment, and when they did Zevran coughed convulsively. 

“Like that,” he wheezed, while the torturer stomped over to a small table of metal implements, “There is no sense of precision. You might have just stopped my heart, friend, and then where would you be? Luckily for you, I am made of sterner stuff than that.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” 

The voice came not from the figure to his left, but from above. It echoed against the far ceiling and the stone walls, spreading until it was almost impossible to tell where it had come from. 

Zevran, beaten and breathless, stretched his bloodied mouth into a crooked smile. 

“Ah,” he told the hooded figure, “I am terribly sorry for what is about to happen to you.”

The torturer, alarmed, snatched a blade from the table and hurled it into the darkness above the rafters. There was no sound; not the thud of the blade in flesh or wood, nor the sound of metal clattering to the ground. Half a second later, the blade whistled back down, thudding into the flesh of the cloaked figure’s arm. 

“Your aim is lacking,” the voice from above said.

“I said precisely the same thing, mi vida,” Zevran said, at long last allowing his head to fall back against the wooden back of the chair he was tied to, “I am sorry to say it, but there is a certain lack of professionalism at play here.”

“You shut up,” she said, and Zevran smiled, “I mean it. The smile, too. Flames, I could kill you.”

“It would not take much doing at the moment,” he told her. 

As they spoke, the torturer ripped the blade from their shoulder with a grunt of pain (a bad idea, that; anyone could have told them that it was wiser to leave the thing in place until a healer could take a look at it). 

“Show yourself, coward,” the torturer snarled, taking several more blades from the table and staring up at the ceiling. They turned slowly, as if trying to spot the shape of their assailant against the darkness of the ceiling.

If he’d been in a more charitable mood, Zevran might have told them it was pointless. 

Indeed, as he thought so, a low laugh came from above, and there was a clatter in the far corner, almost directly behind the torturer. The torturer spun, already throwing a blade toward the source of the noise. As soon as they turned, a cloaked figure dropped from the rafters soundlessly, thrust a dagger into the place where the torturer’s kidney ought to be, and vaulted back up into the ceiling again. 

“You know,” she said above him, “I think it’s more cowardly to beat a bound man. But that’s just me.”

A ring of keys fell from the ceiling and into Zevran’s lap. Of course; that was why she hadn’t killed his tormentor outright. She meant for him to do it instead. Balance, retribution; in her way, his Arianwen was all about balance. If he’d had the energy, Zevran would have thanked her for the effort and explained why he wouldn’t be doing that. It was hard to turn a key, after all, when most of one’s fingers were broken. 

He didn’t hear her move; he supposed the torturer didn’t, either, because Wen swung down, kicked the large human into the table, and vanished again before the fallen figure could get their bearings again. 

Something soft touched his wrist, bound behind him, and Zevran felt a quiet, shuddering breath at his back. She was going to be very cross with him as soon as she took care of their present company; Zevran winced at the thought, then hissed between his teeth when the motion reopened the slice over his eyebrow. 

This time, when Arianwen moved away from him, Zevran could hear her; that could only be on purpose. The torturer heard it too, and turned to face her as she cast off the deep blue cloak, variegated with grey and black around the hem. Arianwen stood before him revealed at last, her long braid hanging down her back, her armor blue and silver and gleaming in the light of the brazier. Zevran smiled; it was a fool’s smile, punch-drunk and high from his own relief, but…well. It was just so good to see her. It’d been too long. Too many days without feeling her at in his arms, too many days fighting himself to keep from returning to her side. 

“I was going to let him have you,” she said, “Or, if he allowed it, I was going to take my time. Fortunately for you, you’ve made me very, very angry. This’ll be quick.”

The torturer didn’t answer; they bent their head and ran, aiming right for her. Wen didn’t move for a long time—almost too long—and stepped aside at the last moment, exerting precisely as much effort as she needed to get out of the way. It looked, Zevran thought, turning his head as best he could to watch, like she simply floated away from him, like a feather in the breeze. The torturer rammed their injured shoulder into a column and let out a strangled shout. 

“Don’t worry,” Wen said to Zevran as she passed, “The building’s empty.”

“There were at least thirty—” he began, and interrupted himself with a cough. 

“As I said,” the Warden answered, casually lifting an iron from the fire and striding past, “The building is empty. Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”

There were sounds that followed her statement, but he could not see their source. He didn’t need to know what she was doing, and he had the sense that not every time he closed his eyes lasted as long as a blink. Likely, that was not a good sign

“Zevran. Look at me, you fool.”

His eye fluttered open—the other seemed stuck shut—and Wen bent before him, her face beatific in its joy. Blood dripped from her ears and clumped in her hair, but she’d wiped her face clean, if the smears along her jaw were any clue. Zevran tried to smile up at her and was mostly successful. 

“I knew you would come.”

“You’re an idiot. I don’t know why I put up with you. That letter was—” she wound up the sentence with a sharp click of the teeth instead of any descriptors, but after a moment the blissful look crept back into her eyes. 

“Take your health potion like a good boy, hm? And I’ll haul you back to the safe house.”

Zevran might have made a crack about her wording, but as soon as he opened his mouth she pressed the cold glass rim of a vial in between his teeth and tipped it upside-down. The liquid was bitter and cold. Though there was a faint aftertaste of elfroot it was most certainly not a health potion.

“Wen—?” he gasped, and the room faded to black. 

|

Arianwen had been angry very often in her life. She enjoyed it, actually. There was a clarity of purpose to rage that most of the rest of life really seemed to lack. It was like…like crossing rooftops on a wire. Rage gave one a single clear path, and if one had the means to follow it things usually turned out alright in the end. 

But now—now her old friend turned on her, hounded her steps. 

Killing so many had been good enough in the moment, of course, but Zevran had needed to be unconscious for what came next, and she hadn’t wanted to give him the chance to talk her out of it. Now, all she could do was wait; there was nobody left to kill, and Zevran was not awake to argue with. As she paced the room, rage paced with her, shadowing her steps and clouding her concentration.

She crossed the room to open the window now, for the room was more or less empty of personality and furniture save an end table, a bed, and a chair. Zevran slept in the bed, his chest rising and falling easily. Few of his wounds would scar, not that he’d care about such things. He’d gained tattoos since she’d last seen him some…oh, had it been five months already? It felt like years. 

This waiting. 

Wen braced her hands on the windowsill, her fingers tapping out a staccato rhythm, and then she turned back to the bed. 

Maker damn him, she loved the man. She’d kill a dozen times as many for him with pleasure, but seeing him hurt like this was—it was—

“Mi vida,” he murmured to her left, and Wen spun on her heel to look at him, “And here I had thought you were some sort of dream.”

She crossed to the side of the bed, her heart in her throat. She ought to say…she ought to tell him what an idiot he was. She ought to tell him off; she’d certainly thought of doing so enough times. But words escaped her now, and when he lifted his hand from the bed it was to wipe the moisture from her cheek. 

“Ah,” he said, wincing when he lifted himself onto one elbow, “No, my Arianwen, no; do not cry for me. I cannot—”

“Why are you trying to get yourself killed?” she asked, and rage took her hand again, gave her the focus to keep talking. 

“I am not—” he began, frowning, but she interrupted him. 

“When will it be enough, Zev? Do you want to lead the Crows? Kill everyone who hurt you, who bought other kids like you? Do you want to be the King of Antiva? What? Because I can’t keep—can’t keep seeing you like this. If you need help, I will help; if you want me out of your life, then tell me to leave. But I can’t—”

She was crying again—so stupid. She hadn’t cried in years, and certainly never over him. He was staring at her with a sort of stunned horror that she might, if she’d had any sort of composure, have recognized better. It was the same face she was making, after all. 

Don’t leave me, she wanted to tell him; as she wanted to tell him every time he disappeared onto a boat. But she’d been too proud to force him into a cage when he wanted the sky, so she’d always turned away instead.

“What do you think I should do?” he asked. 

The hand wet with her tears fell away to the sheets of the bed. 

For one dizzy, breathless moment, she wished he’d stayed asleep a little longer, given her more time to find the right words. But she…she….

“I want you to marry me,” she said, and it was already too late to take back. His mouth fell open, lips moving as if to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Marry me,” she said again, grasping his hand in both of hers, “Tell me you want to live, and you want to live with me. Travel if you have to, but come home again. Live with me; be mine and let me be yours. I want a life, Zevran. I want a life for both of us.”

She searched his face, her heart racing harder than it had killing an entire house full of Crows on her way to her captured lover. Zevran stared at her, and slowly, slowly, a smile wrinkled the space on either side of his eyes. 

“Yes.”

Wen blinked and squeezed his hand. 

“Yes? You mean that? You’re not just—you aren’t going to take it back?”

“Maker’s pierced navel,” he said, struggling into a sitting position, “You do not believe me? And you were so persuasive, too.”

“No, I—” She clamped her mouth shut again and shook her head, “Yes, Zev?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes, of course, you beautiful murderess.” 

She didn’t mean to lunge for him; would’ve thought better of it if she’d had the wherewithal. But all at once she was in his arms, her own wrapped tight around his neck, and both of them rocked back with the force of it. 

“I love you,” she said into the salty skin of his neck, and kissed him there for good measure, “I love you. I love you.”

“I love you,” he murmured back, and inhaled sharply, “Ah—I should have known you would say something first.”

“I knew you wouldn’t want to force me,” she told him, but without any heat behind it. Her anger had faded away between one step and the next, gone in a breath and only a memory now. 

“If you’d died,” she told him, eyes squeezed shut, breathing him in, “I would’ve killed you.”

His laugh was uneven, a little breathless, and likely that meant she’d need to let go of him soon. But when his words came, they were certain. 

“Yes, I know,” Zevran said, “I love you for that, too.”

(For @14daysdalovers day 10: Captured)