#aphelion writes 🌸
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little colt.
summary. xianyun cannot help but take in another child. perhaps, in the future, they may become a disciple of hers.
trigger & content warnings. none applicable.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, found family-ish. xianyun & child!reader. 2k words. they/them pronouns for reader. prev | next.
author's thoughts. bird mom propaganda RAHHHHHH btw if you find a typo no you didn't i'm sleepy but i wanted to post this........
Cloud Retainer has taken on many disciples in her time, and she has loved each and every one as if they were her own.
It was, therefore, quite unlikely that she woukd cease to take on disciples anytime within the forseeable future. Her love was extensive, far beyond what most mortals would be able to comprehend, and her capacity for intimate and tight bonds was even moreso. She has taken on many disciples over the years, and she has loved them all like her own children.
Perhaps it could be attributed to her adeptal instincts; she can recall many a time during which her fellow adepti, upon bonding closely with another being, became exceedingly protective of them. It was only natural—adepti lived for so long and were often affected by their more nonhuman instincts. It wouldn't be improbable to imagine that the need to bond with other beings would grow strong over so many years.
...Then again, it could always simply be attributed to her. In her mind, there was little need for any such justification like 'instincts.' She could scoff at the idea—she was no mere animal. 'Instincts' could not begin to fully explain the depth of her love and care; it was surely infinitely more complicated than the mere maternal urges that a simple crane, a wild animal, might have. She was infinitely more intricate and convoluted than an uncomplicated bird.
(That, however, did not change the fact that she did tend to have bird-like habits. Preening, nesting in her own way... She preferred not to bring attention to that fact, however.)
Regardless of the reason, the truth was that she was lonely, even if she vehemently denied it whenever someone brought up the idea. Mt. Aocang was... quiet, dreadfully so without the constant presence of Ganyu or Shenhe or any of her other disciples. She enjoyed the silence to an extent, but she could only entertain herself for so long without another being to share her knowledge with. Liyue Harbor was far more lively. Loud and chaotic at times, perhaps, but far less lonely than the empty nest that her adeptal abode had become.
Maybe that was why she was so immediately invested in the little one who had accidentially bumped into her and was now apologizing profusely.
"I'm— I'm so sorry, miss! I wasn't watching where I was going! I really didn't mean it, I..."
'What a swift little thing,' she couldn't help but muse. She'd hardly even spotted them rushing her way before they tumbled into her legs. Their body weight wasn't even enough to make her stumble—if anything, they were the one that ended up getting thrown off balance. It was cute how small they were compared to her, really; it reminded her of Shenhe when she was a child, or even her current disciple, Shuyu.
Ah... but she shouldn't be so quick to think fondly of them. No, surely this little one had parents of their own—a life of their own—to return to. She did not even know their name. No. Bonds should not be so quick to form.
With elegant, poised grace akin to a gentle breeze rustling a tree's leaves, she knelt down, the motion putting an end to their sheepish yet hurried apologies. Glossy, innocent eyes stared up at her—even kneeling, Xianyun was still a bit taller than they were—with an amount of awe that would've made her feathers puff out in pride had she been in her illuminated beast form. She was not one to grow embarrassed at admiration, after all.
"Where are your caregivers, child?"
"Oh. Um." Their brows furrowed slightly. "...I don't know, actually."
"Ah, are you lost? Come, then. One— Ahem. I shall reuinte you with them. I am certain they must be quite frantic in your absence."
Before she could rise and offer her clawed hand to them, they urgently shook their head.
"Oh, no! It's not like that, miss. Even if it was, I wouldn't want to trouble you at all! I would find my way back!" they insisted politely, waving their hands in front of their body as if to dismiss her concerns (though, Xianyun hardly thought it would be "troubling"; she was a bit surprised that they felt it so, or perhaps they were really just trying to be polite). It was then that she noticed the little wooden chick held carefully in one of their hands, but she did not yet have the opportunity to inquire about it. "I've been on my own for as long as I can remember, that's all."
Oh?
Oh.
"Hm. Is that so?"
"Uh-huh."
"In that case, child, I—"
A man rounding the corner and immediately prevented her from finishing her sentence. He was very clearly furious, approaching the child with such fervent determination that Xianyun could not help but wonder what nature of a troublemaker she must have encountered. Though... she really did not see them that way, which only made her infintely more curious about rhe situation at hand.
Their expression seemed to fall.
"You, kid!" he shouted, stopping just a foot or two away from them. "You can't just go around stealing whatever you please! Who raised you?!"
"No, I..." They could not meet his gaze. "I was gonna bring back more mora to make up for it when I could, I just—!"
"Don't give me excuses. I want the toy you've stolen returned, you understand? Hand it over!"
Xianyun sighed, adjusting her glasses.
"Enough," she said, rising to her feet. "How much mora will suffice? For reparations, of course."
"Rep— reparations?" the man stuttered, then sighed. "No, no... look. You're the mom? Just teach your kid not to go around stealing. The toy's not worth much, but a kid who starts stealing this young will take far more important things in the future. So, teach 'em not to do it."
Hiding behind Xianyun's legs, they couldn't help but stare upwards in wonderment. His attitude flipped completely when faced with a woman so much taller than he was, and with an air surrounding her that demanded such an impossible amount of respect. They honestly could not blame him for such an attitude change; they would too, they thought, if they were faced with someone like her.
"Very well. You have my apologies on their behalf." She turned on her heel, holding out her hand to them. "Let us go, little colt."
Colt?
Bewildered but nonetheless beyond awestruck with this strange yet kind woman, they nodded, wordlessly placing their freehand in hers. Her sharp, hooked nails dug slightly into their skin; somehow, though, they couldn't be bothered to care. It didn't hurt much. On the contrary, it was oddly comforting.
The walk was silent for a few moments, but then, Xianyun's voice demanded their attention:
"You should pay quite the mind to your behavior in the future. Theivery is a significant offense in a land such as this—a land that regards contracts with the highest of respect. Had I withheld my intervention, it may very well have ended far worse."
"I really didn't mean to," they whispered, little tears building up in the corners of their eyes. Even though she was someone they had only just met a few moments ago, disappointing her seemed... unbearable. Angering her would have been more tolerable. "Um... steal, that is. I didn't mean it. I just thought it looked really cool. I left whatever mora I had on me to pay for it, and I was going to try and get more so I could pay him the right amount... I swear I wasn't going to just run away with it..."
She hummed. "Regardless of your intent, I will see to it that you do not do such a thing again."
"Hu— huh? You will?"
She scoffed. "Of course. Surely you did not expect me to abandon you on the side of the street again? As an elder, it is only right that I watch over little ones such as yourself, and little ones should not be cruelly left to fend for themselves."
The tears on their lashes had dried by now. They even offered her a smile, giggling as they said, "Elder? I don't think you're old."
"Oh? And what, pray tell, has led you to such a bold conclusion, hm?"
"Well... you! You look very young, miss! I think elder women are very pretty too, but you look... young pretty? Um... what's the word again..?"
"Youthful, perhaps?"
"Yeah! Youthful!"
As they rambled on animatedly, clutching the wooden bird to their chest, Xianyun's lips quirked upwards into an amused smile.
It, of course, went unnoticed by them.
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
In the few days that had passed since Xianyun welcomed little [Name]—they had bashfully introduced themselves to her in the middle of their rambling once they recalled that she didn't even know their name, and she returned the sentiment with greater confidence—into her home, she had put together a few simple toys for them to amuse themselves with.
She was an inventor at heart. Even though these designs were not entirely her own, she made them hers with unique additions and more efficient features... of course, all while doing her best to keep the toys simple. They were for a child, after all. Mechanics, Xianyun's mechanics, were complicated enough for adults to understand as it was—a child would surely have even less of a capacity to grasp something too complicated, and her efforts would therefore have been wasted.
...But oh, how terribly wrong she now understood herself to be.
Quietly and motionlessly, as to avoid drawing their attention, she watched with the growing warmth of fondness and excitement in her chest as the young one she took in meticulously pried open the toys she handcrafted.
They were humming to themselves, gingerly laying out the parts in an organized manner so that nothing got lost or mixed. She was beyond impressed with the careful thought they had blatantly put into keeping track of everything; Xianyun was certain that most children would lose a small part or two, but as she surveyed their layout, she noted that every single piece—big or small, hard to overlook or easy to lose—was accounted for.
Childish forgetfulness wasn't an inherently bad thing. In fact, it was quite amusing and endearing to those such as herself who had lived for so many millennia.
However, she was infinitely more endeared by their sheer mindfulness.
Their sharp gasp snapped her from her internal musings.
"Oh— Miss... Miss Xianyun! I'm sorry, I—" They stumbled over their words, and they froze up somewhat. It was as if they wanted to hide what they had done but ultimately decided against it; she had clearly already spotted them, and they did not want to risk mixing up all the parts. "Miss Xianyun, I'm so sorry, I— I wasn't trying to destroy them, I just—"
"—wanted to understand their internal workings, yes?"
Their eyes went wide with that same wonderment they had displayed towards her a few days prior. "How... how did you know?"
She almost laughed at their cluelessness. "You have taken them apart with the care and delicacy quite unusual for one of your age. This, one surmises, is only because you sought to sate your curiosity regarding these simple mechanisms and their internal functions."
The grace with which she carried herself never failed to leave them in astonished silence. Xianyun hummed, sweeping them up into her arms as if they weighed no more than a feather (her utter, raw strength was another astounding feat in their young mind; she was so unimaginably admirable in a multiplicity of ways to them). Then, with steady caution, she kneeled to the floor and situated them comfortably in her lap.
"Allow one to introduce you, little colt, to the basics of mechanics."
Xianyun, they concluded, was an odd but genuinely kind woman.
Though her manner of speech was sometimes strange and formal, and her grace seemed otherworldly in its nature, and her strength was assuredly not a feat that just anyone could achieve...
She was tender. She was kind. She cared.
Perhaps the world was not always so kind, but despite that knowledge, they had never felt safer than where they were now.
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#aphelion writes 🌸#astronetwrk#platonic genshin x reader#platonic genshin impact#platonic genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin x child reader#platonic x reader#platonic genshin#genshin child reader#genshin platonic#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x child reader#genshin impact x you#xianyun x reader#cloud retainer x reader
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Would u please do Arlecchino adopting a reader? I just want to be adopted by our dearest Arlecchino
warmth.
summary. arlecchino's warmth is quite an effective repellent for snezhnaya's everlasting cold.
trigger & content warnings. home invasion, gunshots are mentioned, a bit of violence in general, reader's parents are murdered (not by arlecchino) but it is non-descriptive and reader does not witness it.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort, found family-ish. arlecchino & child!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.
author's thoughts. hehehehehe arle <3 i was supposed to write a fic featuring kafka (hsr) today in celebration of her coming home. Erm. yeah. That did not happen! clearly. /lh
It happened all too quickly.
It truly was a peaceful night, just like any other. The fire crackled on soothingly in the background, shadows dancing on the walls, and the warmth staving off the frigid cold that was all but characteristic of Snezhnaya's nights. Peering out the window would reveal the light, steady snowfall; typically, more blizzard-like conditions would be present, but perhaps the Tsaritsa was in quite a good mood that night in particular, for the snow was gentle in its falling and the winds did not rage on cruelly, biting and nipping angrily at any unfortunate person caught out in the middle of the storm.
Their mother hummed a soft lullaby to them as her calloused fingers, all thanks to years of sewing and hunting combined, rubbed up and down their back. Their father had been in the kitchen—cooking was a responsibility shared between their parents (and really, how could he have asked his wife to move when their beloved, sweet child was half-asleep on her lap? That was a /far/ too wicked request. No, he would not dare disturb theirs and their mother's peace).
...And in a split second, it had all come crumbling down.
Someone's weight was thrown against the door, causing a loud slam! to resonate within the walls.
Once, and their mother sprung up, jerking them awake with her motions. In their half-asleep state, they hardly understood what was going on as their father rushed defensively out of the kitchen with an axe.
Twice, and their mother gathered them in her arms before darting towards the back of the house—the absolute farthest end—at her husband's command. She rushed into one of the bedrooms, swiftly ripping the closet door open and pushing them in, insisting quietly that they hid among the pile of thick winter coats where they would not be seen.
"You just have to hide for a little, okay?" she murmured softly, deft hands pulling coats over their little body and face. "And remember—stay quiet, okay? Shh."
At the end of her sentence, she made a shushing motion with a shaky, trembling smile.
Perhaps it was her attempt at soothing them, but children are often not so easily fooled. The gesture did naught to calm their pounding heart. She had done her best to look certain and reassuring, but all it did was make them all the more terrified.
Their mother stood up, closing the closet door only slightly; it may look suspicious if it had been closed completely, she thought.
Then, she was gone, and they were left only with the company of their thoughts.
It was mostly quiet for a few minutes. They could vaguely make out the muffled sounds of talking—fighting, more accurately. It sounded angry. As if these invasive strangers were demanding something.
They choked back a sob as the walls shook around them due to the noise. A scream, then a gunshot, then another, and then silence.
Through the silence, they could discern the sound of wet slicing. Their heart dropped further into the endless pit of their stomach as they tried their best to curl further into themselves and the pile of coats.
Click, click, click...
Heels, gradually getting louder as their wearer approached. Someone was coming. Someone was going to find them.
It all happened far too quickly.
...And now, before them, none other than the Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers was kneeled. It was not hard for her to find them, not with all their shuffling and shaking and heavy, anxious breathing.
Interestingly, she was far less threatening than what they thought she might be. They didn't doubt that she had the capacity to be absolutely horrifying, but with them...
"You can come out now," she encouraged. Her tone could hardly be described as forceful; if anything, she was... suprisingly gentle. Patient, even, as she held out her hand invitingly. It was as if she were coaxing a frightened animal out from its hiding place. "There is no longer anything to be afraid of."
Still, they hesitated. "Where—" Their throat was dry with terror and their little voice trembled as it came out. With shaking hands, they moved some of the coats off of them. The Knave did note, however, that they clung to one particlar coat; it must have belonged to one of their parents, if she had to guess. Children clung onto sentimental items like that. They swallowed and tried again: "Where are my parents?"
"They are no longer with us. I am sincerely sorry. Had I arrived sooner, they might have lived."
A tremble shook their whole body—whether it was from the cold seeping into their house through the open front door (though the room they were in was a few twists and turns in a hallway away, the Snezhnayan cold was a unique beast in that it could turn a house frigid in a matter of seconds) or from grief, they could not be sure.
"Where..." They sniffled, hands balled into small fists as they tried to rub away the tears gathering in their eyes. "What do I do? I don't wanna be alone..."
"You won't be," Arlecchino said. "You will come with me. You will never be alone again."
All they could do was stumble out of the closet, coat held firmly in their hands and nod. Where else were they supposed to go? Furthermore, how were they meant to say no to a Fatui Harbinger? She was kind enough to offer to take them somewher, and truly, anywhere would have been better than the cold and lonely house in which their parents were killed.
Though, it was greatly debatable whether the Fourth was being kind or opportunistic.
At their young age, they couldn't wrap their mind around any ulterior motives she may have had. They could not so much as consider such a thing, not when she so kindly and tenderly took the coat from their hands, wrapped it around their shivering body, and hoisted them up into her arms. She radiated a warmth that they could not help but lean into, head coming to rest on her squared and confident shoulder. It was not so unbearbly cold when they were in her arms.
One might regard her mannerisms... parental, as if she had great experience with young children and their needs. It surely seemed so, considering how effortlessly and fluidly she handled them. It was like she had done it a million times before.
Indeed, it would not be surprising if that were the case.
Arlecchino hummed, adjusting their weight in her arms slightly.
Then, her nails softly raked over their head and through their hair. Her smooth, self-assured voice reached their ears with a command they could not deny or resist:
"Rest for now, little one."
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achilles heel.
summary. the ninth harbinger takes on an... unexpected responsibility.
trigger & content warnings. references to poverty, [name] is a thief (at first), slightly ooc pantalone in some parts.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort. pantalone & child/young teen!reader, arlecchino & child/young teen!reader. 3.4k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this fic is divided into six drabble-like sections.
author's thoughts. inspired by a silly conversation @aroacenezha and i had. i dad-ify this man a little too much but you know what? i will keep doing it idc he's so dad-able. this post is structured differently than my usual content but i think it's kind of cool!!!
i. an unexpected guest ♡
Of all the possible unexpected things that could await the Regrator in his Snezhnaya residence—one of them, at least; the amount of properties he owned was certainly more than what one could count on both hands—this was... most definitely among one of the more shocking.
He was speechless, really.
"Please do humor me. How did you manage to get in?"
Of all the unexpected things that could await the Regrator in his his home, in his office of all places... thievery in and of itself wasn't unexpected; rather, it was the fact that standing in front of him was undoubtedly a child no older than fourteen. Not only that, but additionally the fact that they were actually standing in his office. They had not been caught. A child, no older than fourteen, possessed more skill than all of the others in the past who had made poor attempts to steal from him.
"You need better security"—they shrugged, making him somewhat annoyed at their nonchalance—"I really thought it would be hard to rob the richest man on Teyvat. It was harder to rob Lady Ningguang. I actually had to abandon that job, you know? Couldn't get to the Jade Chamber."
Again, he was left absolutely speechless.
Being compared to Ningguang made a bitter taste settle in his mouth. He made a mental note to drastically improve the quality of his security.
"You..."
"What? It's not my fault all of your agents are incompetent."
They weren't wrong, he supposed. His agents surely could do better at their jobs. Their smugness still irritated him, though. "Do you routinely rob the wealthy?"
They scoffed. "You all are hoarding wealth that should never have been yours in the first place. Archons forbid I steal from wicked people who couldn't possibly care less about anyone but themselves... Get over yourself. Seriously."
He genuinely couldn't tell if they had no sense of danger or if they simply had that sheer amount of audacity by nature. Though, admittedly, he did have to respect the fact that they managed to sneak in completely undetected. If not for his sudden appearance, they most likely would have gotten away with it. Their audacity did irk him a little, but... that was also something he had to respect. It was impressive in its own right. No average Snezhnayan child would so much as dream of talking to a Harbinger the way they did oh-so effortlessly
It did occur to him, however, that they did not look well-off; they were not the average Snezhnayan child.
Their hair looked as if it had been haphazardly and unevenly chopped off so that it was too short to become tangled (he did recall doing such a thing himself—at the lowest point in his life, taking care of his hair was a useless endeavor, solely because it did not help better his chances of survival). They were clothed decently enough in layers adequately thick to keep themselves from freezing which, indeed, was also something he understood on a nauseously personal level.
Most of the mora he managed to earn in his unfortunate youth was invested in... not freezing to death. Through them, he was forced to once again acknowledge his past, a past he endeavored to forget about because it made him feel pathetic.
...Or maybe it made him feel like an impostor in his wealth?
What kind of sick twist of fate had the Archons cursed him with, forcing him to think about such trivial things?
He should punish them. He should arrest them. He should send them off to Dottore and never spare them another thought ever again, even, but... somehow, he didn't want to. Much as he may have acted as if he couldn't possibly know why, he did.
The brat reminded him sickeningly of himself.
"Where do you think you're going?"
They were half out of his window when he called out to them, having taken advantage of his pondering.
"To sell what I've taken?"
He almost rolled his eyes. Almost, but didn't. That would have been immature and inelegant of him. "Come here."
They would have just left, but truthfully, it would not have been a smart move on their behalf. The only reason they had not yet been caught and apprehended was simply because no-one had spotted them in the first place. Not a single one of their 'victims' had managed to catch a glimpse of them. Now that a Harbinger had seen them...
They figured it was in their best interests to avoid being pursued by anyone with that much power, especially by someone like Pantalone. A man with that much political influence was dangerous.
"Show me what it is that you've taken."
They did.
A letter opener, a few picture frames... Nothing significant or extremely expensive (though, to them, anything at all from his office would likely be of high value), which is what left Pantalone completely perplexed. He honestly hadn't even noticed that anything was missing from his office when he had first entered.
Perhaps that was what made them so skilled, combined with their capacity to avoid being seen.
"Out of everything you could have taken," he mused, "you chose... these inconsequential items?"
"They're inconsequential to you, maybe. To me and to my buyers, things like this are worth a ton. Whether I'll actually be given what is owed is... uh. More or less likely. I don't know, I just— can I leave yet?"
"Not so fast, dear." He smiled, tilting his head slightly. They thought he somewhat resembled a fox.
"...What? Are you seriously going to arrest me for something so little?"
"Nothing of the sort. In fact... I have a proposal of sorts for you."
ii. the proposal in question. ♡
"You know, when someone says something ominous like 'I have a proposal for you'," they began, twirling a defiant strand of their now neat hair—which the Harbinger had... shockingly, taken upon himself to cut properly rather than paying someone else to do it—around their finger, "they generally don't mean... all this."
"Don't be difficult." He pinched their cheek like a scolding (or affectionate, but the nature of his gesture was debatable, given the fact that he tended to hide his thoughts behind a skilled mask of eerie calmness that they could only imagine took years to perfect) grandparent might. "Let the tailor take your measurements."
"Ugh... fine. I don't even see why I'm doing this," they murmured, gingerly raising their arms when the tailor politely prompted them to.
"Oh? Did I not say? My apologies. I intend for you to become a permanent resident of my household."
Silence.
"...So you're adopting me."
"That is one way to look at it, yes."
"Oh. I was... um." They paused, blinking a few times as if in an attempt to dispel the bewilderment they felt. "I was kidding. I didn't expect that response."
He only smiled.
They wondered if they would ever learn to understand that ambiguous smile.
iii. another unexpected guest ♡
Between teaching the newest member of his house noble etiquette, conversational skills, and other important skills they would need to master, Pantalone had grown unexpectedly fond of the little orphan he took in.
He should have been annoyed by how often they questioned his authority, by how unruly they were...
Of course, he wasn't. It was endearing and even refreshing in its own way—when was the last time anyone had dared to speak so freely and honestly and daringly to him? The respect rooted in fear that his status as a Harbinger gave him became dull after a while.
It really shouldn't have surprised him that he had become so fond of the little one who did not fear speaking in the most unfiltered way to him.
However... he did wonder if his fondness was causing him to spoil them just a little too much.
"...What is that?"
They grinned brightly. In their arms, a small arctic fox sat contentedly, strangely unbothered by the fact that a random child decided to pick it up and bring it home. It seemed to snuggle further into them and their warmth, in fact.
"It's an arctic fox!"
"My dear, that is a wild animal."
"And?"
Silence. Pantalone was the first to break it:
"I have the ability to acquire any animal you so desire of only the highest pedigree," he began, "the best available on the market—of course, assuming it could survive in an extreme climate such as this one—and yet, you chose to bring home a little street fox?"
They pouted, lower lip jutting out in an exceedingly childish way that he would have chided them for had it not just been himself, them, and the various Fatui guards stationed around (who all knew far better than to say anything about whatever they saw or heard within their Lord's residence) present. "Don't be mean. I came from the street too, you know... look at her! Look at this little creature! Say hi."
If it had been anyone else demanding such childish things of him, he would be appalled... but he supposed since it was them, he could tolerate it. He leaned down slightly.
"Hello."
Much to his apparent surprise, the fox barked back at him, to which they giggled.
"Soo, can I keep her?"
The silence returned for a brief second. Then, the Harbinger sighed deeply—it was undoubtedly comparable to the kind of sigh an exasperated parent might let out. As if he wasn't already going grey enough without this child around...
He caved to their whims regardless.
He was encouraging a bad habit, yes, but they looked so happy with that little fox. He could only hope that, in the future, they would not bring home any other wild animals.
"Very well, but I expect you to learn how to take care of her properly, otherwise I will be forced to let her go."
iv. old habits die hard.
The first event they ever had to attend with the Regrator was an annual event hosted by the Tsaritsa herself.
Much as they weren't exactly... keen on going, Pantalone insisted—he had claimed it was for publicity's sake. The public would favor him more if he was seen as the caretaker of a child. They supposed they couldn't really argue with that, but the thought of being used as a device to build public rapport was uncomfortable at best and nauseating at worst.
(He was very adamant on reassuring them that he didn't take them in solely for such a shallow reason. Though... he still did not tell them why exactly it was that he chose to take them in, which admittedly did make them doubt the sincerity of his words.
They decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, given how kind he tended to be with them.)
They absolutely hated being surrounded by so many pompous rich people who only ever turned a blind eye to the struggling of every low-income family in Snezhnaya. How these people could live with themselves, hoarding the majority of the wealth of an entire nation, they would never know nor understand.
(What made Pantalone any different, they sometimes wondered?)
However...
They were all viable targets, even including the other Harbingers present.
Columbina... there was nothing they could steal off of her without getting caught, and the idea of making a scene, especially one involving the third Harbinger herself, made their stomach churn anxiously. She was not an option.
Dottore... stealing off of him was unwise. They wondered if Pantalone would lose favor in them if they did. The Doctor, like the Damselette, was not an option, despite the many things they could take off his person without him ever knowing that something was missing (probably; they weren't truly sure if they'd like to test that theory).
Arlecchino... her silver hairclip was awfully pretty. Surely she wouldn't miss it? She didn't like the Regrator much anyways, so—
"Dear."
"Oh. Um." They cleared their throat, embarrassedly looking anywhere but at him. They tried their best not to pick at the threads of their sleeves. "Sorry. Force of habit."
He hummed, gloved hand raising up to rub reassuring circles on their back. The bubbling anxiety and discomfort in their chest subsided slightly.
"Come along. There is nothing to be afraid of, and please... do not take anything off of anyone. Leave the Knave and the other Harbingers be."
Of course, upon passing Arlecchino, they did end up stealing her hairclip regardless.
Though annoyed, she said nothing of it, because even though their audacity to steal something from a Harbinger at an event such as that one agitated her beyond belief...
It seemed to make them happy, and she didn't see them take anything from anyone else the entire night. She decided that she would let it slide just this one time.
(She also took it upon herself to secure it in their hair—which had grown longer and healthier ever since the Ninth took them in—after the event, claiming that it was a gift from her...
...And that, if they knew what was good for them, they would not dare to pull another foolish stunt like that ever again.)
v. achilles heel.
"What is it that plagues your mind?"
"Huh?" They blinked, sitting up a little straighter in their place on one of the soft sofas in the Ninth's personal library. Most of their time was spent in there, absorbing all the knowledge that they didn't have access to earlier on in their life. "What do you mean?"
"You've been withdrawn lately," Pantalone said, approaching them slowly as if they were some kind of skittish animal. He tenderly caressed their cheek upon seeing no signs of discomfort. "Have I done something to drive you away?"
"...No," they admitted quietly, looking outside of the large window and watching the snow fall. It looked... peaceful, but they knew from experience what it was really like out there. They gnawed on their lower lip, searching for a way to word their concerns without sounding ungrateful. "I just... ugh, it's nothing. I don't know. I don't know how to say it without it sounding... bad."
He raised an eyebrow. His hand moved away from their face, now stroking their hair calmingly. "You speak to me so freely all the time. Why the sudden change of heart, hm?"
He did have a point there. They never once thought twice about the way they spoke to him up until that point.
A sigh left their lips, and they shifted their gaze to meet his.
The way their eyes glistened with the sheen of unshed, frustrated tears made Pantalone feel a sort of fatherly protectiveness that he wasn't sure he should have been able to feel, and yet... their expression flipped some kind of switch in him.
"Why did you take me in?"
"I—"
"Wait, I'm not done," they interrupted. He went quiet. "What benefit do I provide to you? What kind of rich guy sees a random orphaned thief and decides to take them in? Who does that? No rich person I've met before you, that's for sure. People like you don't care about those of us barely scraping by in poor conditions, so why—"
If it were anyone else Pantalone was speaking to, his tone would have been harsh and commanding, but... that was how it always had been with them. They could get away with things that others could not. They were always shown a side of him that others were not. Perhaps that made them the Regrator's one single Achilles heel, and if that were the case? So be it.
"Stop. Listen."
His tone came out very gently. It was more akin to a comforting hush than a demand. He kneeled down to their height—never once had they seen him voluntarily get so close to the ground. Most nobles didn't, and yet, here he was. With his ungloved knuckles, he wiped away the tears that they hadn't even noticed were beginning to fall.
"I was you once, little one."
"I don't believe you," they sniffled.
"You should. I was not born into this life. My bloodline is not noble and my birth name holds no significance," he mused, tucking a stray strand of hair behind their ear. "I also used to steal from people, you know."
Their hair fell over their shoulders, to which they quickly raised a hand to the back of their head. The clip—once belonging to Arlecchino—was gone, now settled in their caretaker's open palm.
"H— huh?!"
"Admittedly, I haven't done so in quite some time, so what you saw just then was moreso the skills I've learned as a Harbinger than my thievery skills."
He kindly secured their hair back once again.
"Ah... I never would have guessed."
"That is the point." He nodded, going on to tease: "You do very much remind me of the younger version of myself... you have quite the awful amount of attitude, though. I was never so difficult."
They huffed, patting their face dry with their palms, to which he chuckled.
"Hmph, I doubt that. I'll bet you were worse than I am."
"Whatever you say, dearest."
He was, but he had no plans of telling them that, of course.
vi. enrollment.
"My orphans seem to like you, [Name]."
They smiled up at Arlecchino from their place on the ground, one of the much younger children sleeping against their thigh. Their hand absently toyed with the child's hair in a manner that seemed akin to that of a loving older sibling. "I like to think they do. They're lucky, then, because I happen to quite like them, too!"
The ghost of a smile graced her lips at that.
"You know," she mused calmly, placing a firm hand on their head. They squeaked slightly at the force behind her display of affection. "You are publicly viewed as the Regrator's child."
"What?!" they gasped, a mix between shocked and embarrassed. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but... "Wait, people are saying that? Actually?"
"They are," she confirmed, "but I mention this for one very particular reason: do you know how to defend yourself, [Name]?"
"Somewhat, but not entirely," they admitted. "I learned a lot in my time... um, wandering, shall we call it..? Anyway. I can defend myself, but not really well. Not at all well enough for the place I've found myself in, I think."
She nodded in understanding at that.
"Have you considered enrolling in the House of Hearth?"
"I've thought about it. Would I even qualify, though..? I'm technically not an orphan..."
"No, but consider it a favor from me. You would get an education of equal rigor to Snezhnayan private schools, as well as learning how to protect yourself."
"...You would do that for me, Arle?"
Her cheeks tinted red at that, and she groaned, lightly pushing them away by the head. They giggled at her annoyance.
"Don't call me that"—she coughed into her fist, trying her best to mask the good-natured embarrassment such a nickname caused her—"but... I would. You need to learn how to handle yourself."
She then got on one knee, meeting their gaze with intensity that made them a bit nervous. Both her hands sat firmly on their shoulders.
"What you need to understand, however, is that you will automatically be drafted into the Fatui at your graduation. I do not believe that the Regrator would let you out of his sight at your young age, so you needn't worry about being separated from him, but... you will be exposed to wicked things."
"...But I need to do this for my safety, right?"
"You don't 'need' to do anything," she clarified. "I would advise it, though. You are an annoying little brat, but I—as well as the Ninth—would loathe to see anything happen to you."
"Well... I don't mind enrolling."
"Oh?"
"I really don't mind," they repeated, offering her a pensive smile. "I've already seen pretty rough things, and, I mean... I know what you all do for a living. I'm not oblivious, Arlecchino. Any kid born and raised in Snezhnaya would know."
"I didn't think so," she assured. "No, I never once believed you to be oblivious... that much, I agree with. Childhood innocence does not thrive in this nation."
"You're right. It doesn't."
A comfortable silence settled for a moment. Arlecchino's battle-hardened hands were a calming force upon their shoulders.
"...Soo, how exactly are we planning on convincing Pantalone to let this happen?"
"Ah." She went quiet. "...That is the question."
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! taglist: @m1shapanda, @kaichuuu, @zeldadou, @aroacenezha (aka the beloved moot who inspired this fic. say "thank you maji" everyone 🫶🫶🫶🫶 /hj /lh)
#aphelion writes 🌸#favoniuslibrary#astronetwrk#platonic genshin x reader#platonic genshin impact#platonic genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#pantalone x reader#arlecchino x reader#platonic fatui harbingers x reader#fatui harbingers x reader
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achilles heel ii.
summary. love is a sin. the regrator is a sinner.
trigger & content warnings. threats of physical violence, nightmares.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. found family (moreso than the first post), fluff, slight angst. pantalone & young teen!reader, slight arlecchino & young teen!reader. 2.6k words. they/them pronouns used for [name]. this fic is divided into six drabble-like sections. this fic is the second part of achilles heel; please read the first post before reading this one.
author's thoughts. teehee pantalone....... he is never dad-ified enough i swear. he has so much dad potential. look at him. silly rich guy (<- he is a criminal and is NOT silly).
i. a slip of the tongue ♡
Their enrollment into the House of Hearth came with two specific conditions:
One, Arlecchino would not have ultimate authority over them. They didn't disrespect her regardless, but Pantalone was insistent that her authority should not exceed his over them. He was their caretaker, after all. They were a special case in the Knave's orphanage—an orphan but not quite an orphan.
Two, that they returned to his residence on weekends, which wasn't something they or Arlecchino has any qualms with. She didn't exactly get along with the Ninth, but oddly, she didn't argue either of his conditions.
(They felt immeasurably guilty, however, that they had a home to return to. That was a privilege unique to them. The orphans of the House of Hearth did not have such a luxury; hell, those children could not even dream of a home outside of the orphanage.)
This was one such weekend. Upon returning home, they let themselves into Pantalone's office—of course, not before ensuring he was not occupied with another Harbinger or other business partners of his. Had he been, they would have only entered once he was done.
"I'm back, Father."
...
Immediate terror stuck their chest. Admittedly, their reaction once they processed what had just come out of their mouth was a bit dramatic, but still! Had Arlecchino's children somehow rubbed off on them? All of her children tended to call her 'Father', but they only ever called her by her name...
The Regrator paused what he was doing, wordlessly setting his pen down.
"...Sorry, dear, could you repeat that? I didn't quite hear you."
"Um. I said I'm back."
"After that."
"..."
"[Name]."
"I didn't say anything after, I swear." They were completely flustered now, hand shyly fidgeting with the strands of hair securely held back by what had once been Arlecchino's hair clip while their gaze settled anywhere that wasn't on the Harbinger. "I didn't..."
"You are a terrible liar."
"I'm— I'm not."
He smiled at that, gingerly shedding his gloves and rings.
He thought it was a bit cruel of him to create any kind of distance between himself and the little thief he brought into his home, especially in what was such an important and vulnerable moment.
It was then that he beckoned them closer. They obliged, albeit hesitantly. His hands gently smoothed down some wild strands of their hair—presumably caused by whatever the Knave had put them through that day. His tenderness seemed to calm them down a little bit.
"Do you see me as a father figure, [Name]?"
They pouted. "I don't know. Maybe. It just came out. I didn't think about it. Sorry."
If Pantalone was any more morally correct, he might worry about who they were looking up to, but...
Their immorality was inevitable, really, so he tried not to concern himself with it too much. It was the one consequence associated with taking them in. It was one that simply couldn't be avoided.
Pantalone had come to terms with that fact some time ago.
"Don't apologize. I don't mind if that is the case."
"...Okay."
He held himself together with skillful grace that was only to be expected of someone like him, but the second they left his office, he slammed his head on his desk, resisting the compelling urge to just sob.
(...He was probably the reason they had become a tad dramatic.)
Oh.
That day, the Ninth learned two things:
One, [Name] had adopted a more formal method of speech, which was good. It would be useful in the future. His lower priority business partners, the general nobility of Snezhnaya and other nations... those people would all expect his child to take on a more refined demeanor. It was good that they already were.
Two, which was objectively more important in his mind (because really, he did not care for the opinions of people who had never struggled a single day in their lives), he had unexpectedly become an actual father. Not just a caretaker, but a father.
Oh, fuck.
ii. third time's a charm ♡
"Can I keep him?"
"Absolutely not."
"Please? Come on. He won't cause any trouble!"
Pantalone pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, sighing deeply. How could he have possibly gotten himself into this situation a second time? Perhaps he really was spoiling them just a bit too much. "[Name]. You cannot continue bringing wild animals into our home."
They pouted, holding up the little feline in their arms. It may have been small and harmless at the moment, but a snow leopard such as the one they snatched up from the streets would surely grow impossibly bigger, provided enough time and proper nutrition. "Father..."
He shot them an annoyed look. They could only smile innocently.
"Don't 'Father' me, [Name]."
"I've taken good care of Winter thus far!" Said fox chirped upon hearing her name. "Look, see—she's perfectly healthy. I can handle another pet!"
"You named her Winter?"
They shrugged. "It's always winter in Snezhnaya, so..."
He couldn't help but chuckle fondly, teasing, "Clever."
"I doubt you would have came up with a better name, Father," they huffed playfully. "Anyways, come on! Look, how can you say no to a little face like this?"
Neither of the two said anything for a moment. [Name] held up the little squirming cat with one hand, supporting its hind legs with the other.
It was clear to Pantalone that they would not budge.
A deep sigh left his lips.
They knew they had won.
Once again, Pantalone welcomed another unexpected guest into his household.
He could unflinchingly deny Il Dottore further funding for his experiments. He could ruthlessly send out the agents employed under his command to collect the debts of those foolish enough to leave them unpaid without so much as a second thought.
Somehow, he could not deny his child another exotic animal.
Oh well. At least the feline would eventually grow into a suitable bodyguard for [Name], he supposed.
iii. ultimatum ♡
Whenever Pantalone had free time during the work week—which... wasn't very often—he had grown into a habit of visiting the House of Hearth.
His darling child was there. How could he be expected to stay away?
(The Knave grit her teeth, clenched her jaw, and ultimately bit her tongue when he kept showing his face in her territory again and again. As much as she didn't like the Ninth... she would have to tolerate it, she supposed. He was too preoccupied with [Name] to bother her the majority of the time, anyway.)
The children were all polite and respectful with him whenever he came around, often pointing him in the direction of their sibling-in-arms. They were typically lingering around the younger children, engaging with them and entertaining them in a way that a doting older sibling might, but for some reason...
They weren't there that day.
"One of the matrons wanted to talk to [Name], sir. I don't know why," one of the younger children his child typically surrounded themselves with had told him.
He was surprised to find that, rather than wanting to speak to [Name], one of Arlecchino's employees seemed to have forgotten just whose child it was she was speaking to.
"We are raising soldiers," a woman harshly spat, "not regular children. It would be in your best interests, Mx. [Name], to quit teaching them to be soft."
They blinked.
"...Um. They're five."
"Are you even listening?!"
"Listen," they began, shifting their weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "They're barely five, okay? They'll learn. They can't even wield a sword properly yet. Half of them can't read mid-level literature yet. For now, I think they deserve attention from someone they can trust who won't hurt them. I mean... if I were really doing something wrong, Arle surely would have told me—"
"You rich little brat."
That stung, admittedly. With nervous fingers, they plucked at the threads of their sleeve.
"By the Tsaritsa, if the Ninth himself weren't so enamored with you, I would have your head mounted on the wall for the disrespect you have shown not only us but our Lord."
She raised a hand, and they flinched back, and then—
Nothing came.
"Fa— Father... hi."
The Regrator's grip on her wrist was crushing, rage barely concealed behind a tight-lipped smile.
"Hello, dear." Pantalone's eyes were kind when they were on his child, but glazed over with an unsettling iciness upon facing the woman. He leaned down, head tilting slightly as he observed the tense matron who so boldly dared to raise a hand to his child. "Now, I'm certain this was a one-time incident, unless of course you would be interested in taking a... leave of absence to see the Doctor, hm?" His grip tightened slightly in a wordless threat, a promise of a fate more vile than death itself. "A permanent leave of absence, that is."
Tension weighed heavily in the air.
Of course, the matron relented. She would have been foolish to not when the fate promised to her would be undoubtedly worse than death.
"...No, of course not, sir. It won't happen again."
He released her trembling wrist, adjusting his rings nonchalantly.
"Good. Go on, then. Leave us."
"Yes, Lord Ninth."
She turned on her heel, bowing her head respectfully to both the Regrator and his child before rounding the corner of the hall. Just like that, she was gone.
Instantly, all his attention shifted to [Name].
"Are you alright?" he murmured softly, only for their ears to hear. He kneeled down to their level and gingerly tilted their chin upwards to check if Arlecchino's matron left any wounds behind.
"Yeah, I'm— I'm fine..."
He was quiet for a moment, thumb gently rubbing along their cheekbone and wiping away the beginnings of tears. The Knave would not like to see them in such a state. The Ninth didn't particularly care for her opinion, but he knew very well that his child did, to a certain degree.
"...Don't cry, dear. Do not allow yourself to be pushed around. You are worth infinitely more than any agent among our ranks. Do you understand?"
"Mm-hm. I'm just..." They gnawed on the corner of their lip. "I guess I'm used to it."
He was quiet for a moment.
"That will change," he concluded. "You will never be treated so poorly ever again."
iv. bonding ♡
"Were you never given the opportunity to bake?"
They hummed thoughtfully, lips pulled into a calm and content smile as they observed their father knead the bread dough they took part in making.
Indeed, a man as prestigious as him could just have one of his employees do this... but what kind of parent would he be if he refused to bond with his child alone? No genuine bonding would take place if he was not the one engaging with them.
...
Baking also happened to a special place in his heart as a child of poverty, so he didn't mind doing it.
"Not really. I couldn't afford to. It was too expensive," they mused, trailing off briefly. Pantalone was quiet—patient. He didn't interrupt them or urge them to speak. He simply waited for them to go on. "I didn't get paid well when I was taking thievery commissions. I was small and weak, so it was easy for those older people who commissioned my work to scam me out of what I was owed."
The Regrator made a mental note to investigate those people further.
For now, though, his focus was on them.
"I understand," he reassured. "Baking is indeed an expensive hobby. There was a time where even I could not afford it."
"I really wouldn't have believed you if you hadn't told me," they said, stealing and snacking on some of the fruits spread across the counter. The Harbinger chuckled fondly, pinching their cheek.
"Stop that. If you keep that up, we won't have anything to put in the bread. Now, for the next step..."
v. nightmare ♡
It was the middle of the night when they jolted awake, skin dampened with a cold sweat and fingers relentlessly shaking.
The House of Hearth's hardwood floor was cold against their bare feet, but it really didn't bother them. It wasn't anything they weren't used to, anything` they hadn't experienced in their past. It was with quiet and purposeful steps that they snuck out of the room they shared with a handful of the younger kids that bonded closely with them.
Their years of thievery still benefitted them, it seemed, as they effortlessly snuck out without awakening anyone else.
"What are you doing up at such an awful hour?"
They practically leapt out of their skin, heart hammering in their chest at Arlecchino's sudden appearance.
"I, uh—" they began, taking deep breaths in the hopes of calming themselves down. "Um, sorry. You frightened me."
"Oh? My apologies, then, [Name]."
Whether or not her apology was sincere was debatable. She seemed to derive very slight amusement from their fright, but gave them a firm pat on the head. It was comforting in its own way.
"...I had a nightmare," they reluctantly admitted, "so I can't really sleep. Sorry."
"It isn't uncommon for these things to happen," she replied. "Your apology is unwarranted. You aren't the first and I doubt you will be the last to be unable to sleep."
"Arle, um... I know I'm not supposed to leave again until tomorrow, but..."
Arlecchino's eyes were trained precisely on them, and perhaps she might have looked irritated, but in reality, she could not find it within her to be frustrated. They were strong and smart and excelled in the things that they needed to excel in. There was no reason for her to be frustrated with them for something so simple. It was normal for children to seek out their parent following a distressing experience.
"I will take you back to the Regrator's residence, then. Consider it a reward for your high performance this week."
"Ah, really? Thank you, Arle."
"Go get your things. Meet me outside."
vi. found family ♡
"You're home early, [Name]."
When they entered Pantalone's office (he lamented the fact that he was still working at such a late hour, but such was unfortunately his obligation as a Harbinger), he was pleasantly surprised, quietly setting down his pen and offering them his full attention.
"I know." They nodded. "Arle said I performed well this week, so she brought me home a day early. I guess she probably had something to do elsewhere anyway, since she offered."
"I see."
A silence settled for a moment.
The Ninth instantly knew something was wrong when their fingers reached up to their sleeve, absently picking and pulling at the threads. He'd noticed that habit of theirs back when he first put them in the public eye.
"If there is something troubling you, dear, you are more than welcome to tell me."
"It's stupid," they murmured, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Maybe they should have just stayed back at the House of Hearth.
"If it's bothering you, it is most definitely not."
"I had a nightmare."
"Ah, I see. Is that why you've come home so late?"
"...Yes."
"Do you want to stay with me for the time being, then?" When they nodded, he smiled kindly, opening one arm for them so that the other could be free to finish what remained of his paperwork.
They were secured in his arms the second he made his wordless offer.
His fingers tenderly carded through their hair, mindful to avoid his rings catching uncomfortably on their locks.
Love is a sin.
In Snezhnaya, love is a sin.
For his child, Pantalone was a sinner.
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!
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we'll meet again.
summary. ""I'm sure we'll meet again, but for now… goodbye, [Name].""
trigger & content warnings. major character death (the reader), mild blood.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst, hurt/no comfort. muichiro tokito & hashira mentor!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns for reader.
author's thoughts. this is an expansion of these headcanons. while this oneshot could be read as a standalone, it makes slightly more sense with the background context. also i think this oneshot only really makes sense if youve read the demon slayer manga; you wont understand the fight scene if you havent. anyway i have NO excuse for this. im so sorry (no im not LMAO)
"Tokito, move!"
Perhaps it was the urgency in their tone, or perhaps it was the evident desire to protect a young life that they deemed unsettlingly evanescent, yet Muichiro obeyed with no hesitation. Perhaps it was simply the trust and respect he held for his mentor.
Regardless, he moved.
The second he released the hilt of his blade, they clasped it, pushing the boy further away with all their might. Though they may have missed it, Muichiro grimaced from the utter force they exerted against his core and stumbled slightly when attempting to regain his balance.
...
He hadn't sparred with them in quite a long time. He'd forgotten the kind of power that they could demonstrate.
Though the blade had been red before when clutched in the Mist Hashira's hand, it was blazing now, making the Upper Moon suck in a sharp, painful breath. Their glare was steely enough to make even the bravest man falter.
If Kokushibo was not a demon, perhaps even he would have wavered.
"You will not harm my Tsuguko."
Lightning struck their core, tearing and searing the seams of their flesh to reach its sharp nails into their delicate innards. They hardly processed the gaping gash across their torso until the pain came in seconds later, making the floor sway beneath their feet and their vision spin. A glare that was once as sharp as their nichirin blade was now unfocused and hazy.
Their legs gave out from underneath them.
Through the pounding of their heart in their ears, they heard a distant, faint cry of their name.
A moment passed, then another.
Tender fingers brushed hair that'd stuck to their sweaty, pale face away, caressing their cheek with a trembling hand. "...[Name]-nee?"
"Ah..." they laughed, choking up a bit of blood in the process, before wincing at the sharp pain that struck their abdomen after. "That's the first time you've called me anything other than [Name]-sama, Mui-kun. It's cute. You should've done it a long time ago."
"H— wait, hold on, just stay awake a little longer," he urged, hands scrambling to peel away at some of the fabric sticking to their flesh. The boy's pupils were blown wide with panic; that much they could tell, despite their blood-loss induced dilirium. "We'll close your wounds, just... I need..."
"Hey..." they called weakly, gently pushing his hands away from their wound with what little strength they had left. "Tokito."
"I just, I- I need to start a fire. We'll cauterize them—"
"Tokito-kun."
"—It'll be okay."
"Mui-kun, please, just stop already! Listen to me!"
Glossy tears spilled over at the sheer breathless desperation in their voice. Never once had their voice raised in his direction, and perhaps it was a mix of the utter overwhelm of the situation and the shock of hearing them yell (at him, specifically) that pushed him over the edge.
In the end, Muichiro was still only a child.
Their chest rose up and down in heavy puffs as they tried to catch their breath, squeezing their eyes shut as the room spun.
"[Name]-nee... don't go yet. Please, please... not you too..."
"Shh. I'm still here. Just, ah... just give me your hands. I'll throw up if I open my eyes."
He was quick in clasping their chilled hands between his own, sharing his body heat and offering what little comfort he possibly could to both himself and his rapidly declining mentor. A deep weight settled in his gut at the realization that he wasn't just in some horrible nightmare—that, once again, someone he adored and loved wholeheartedly was leaving him alone.
To them, the warmth he radiated was indeed a comforting reassurance. He was warm. Alive.
"Listen to me. You've gotta kill Muzan for me. This isn't fixable. This couldve been you, laying here in your own blood, you know? You're too young to die here. Too many kids have given their lives already. You had better not die, you hear me? I'll give you hell if you do."
When he laid down beside them, shedding blistering tears on their shoulder, they caressed his head lovingly with the last of their strength.
"You had better not die, Muichiro."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
"Hello! It's nice to meet you. I am [Surname] [Name], the Demon Slayer Corps' Cloud Hashira, and I'll be your mentor from here on out."
The warmth with which they regarded him was... foreign. Despite the nervous smile tugging at their lips, their welcoming warmth was oh-so evident. How could one who had seen so much bloodshed still have eyes that shone comparably to stars?
Muichiro blinked—once, twice.
"Okay."
Awkward silence descended for a brief moment as the boy fidgeted slightly with the bandages wrapped around his body.
"Oh, uh, right," they stammered, plucking amaranth from their hair. Their hand raised with purposeful delicacy so that, had he so desired, he could withdraw from their gentle touch. He did not. His lack of movement prompted them to tuck the plant behind his ear. "Here."
"What's this for?"
"Well, I've never had a Tsuguko before, so I want us to have a good relationship. Some of the other Hashira say gift-giving is a good way to build rapport. Also, I've been thinking about your name."
"My... name?"
"Yes. The 'mu' in your given name—it's the same as the 'mu' in 'mugen,' isn't it? The 'mu' in Muichiro is the 'mu' in 'mugen.' I like to think so, at least. Amaranth is a symbol of immortality in some countries. It's... it's the closest I could get to infinity," they laughed. "I thought about bringing a lotus instead. Maybe I should have? A lotus would've looked a little nicer. Hmm..."
The 'mu' in Muichiro is the 'mu' in 'mugen.'
Where...
Where had he heard that before?
"You wanted to bring me a lotus that day, [Name]-nee. It was because they symbolise eternity, right?" Muichiro mused in a quiet whisper that would inevitably be lost to the breeze. No-one else was meant to hear, anyway. His words were for no-one but his late mentor; that much was blatantly obvious. "I didn't think you'd ever join this graveyard."
The rows of graves behind Oyakata-sama's seemed endless, really. Day after day they used to get bigger and bigger as Demon Slayers fell. It was somehow comforting to Muichiro that no-one would ever have to join said rows ever again.
"You know, lotuses also symbolise rebirth. That's why I brought you one."
With delicacy so obviously mimicing that which they had once displayed towards him, he laid the flower on their grave, careful not to disturb the dirt too much.
"I'm sure we'll meet again, but for now... goodbye, [Name]."
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! for clarity's sake, the line "The 'mu' in Muichiro is the 'mu' in 'mugen'" is a reference to what muichiro's brother said before he died.
#aphelion writes 🌸#: [ the cloud hashira! 🌸 ]#platonic muichiro x reader#platonic demon slayer#platonic demon slayer x reader#platonic kny x reader#kny x reader#demon slayer x reader#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#muichiro tokito x reader#tokito muichiro x reader#muichiro x reader
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Your writing is so good! Thank you so much for writing platonic fics, they are so hard to find, especially in Genshin and Demon Slayer. As an Aro/Ace who is addicted to the found family trope, your blog is a haven. So if I may... can I request a Muichiro x Hashira Mentor!Reader to go along with your other fics in this series? I loved the three so far, and especially with the most recent episode, I have strong "PROTECT THE BABY" vibes for Mui. What would happen if instead of Kotetsu saving Mui, it was reader? And they were trying to protect him from Gyokko while Mui is stuck in the water, and maybe that is what gives him the strength/inspiration to break free.
no harm will come to you.
summary. ""N— no," he choked out before rapidly pulling the rest of the needles out of his body. Something in their gut twisted uncomfortably at the sight of their student so battered. "Why do you always have to be the one to save me?""
trigger & content warnings. near-death (not the reader), canon-typical blood and injury, brief mentions of throwing up.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst to fluff-ish. muichiro tokito & hashira mentor!reader. 1.5k words. they/them pronouns for reader.
author's thoughts. hello dear!! i always smile when someone says this to me. its so important to remember that not everyone enjoys romanctic content. aroace people exist and deserve to be catered to as much as any other people do. i love being a safe space for people who just... dont want romantic content. i dont reblog romantic content (unless its canon x canon ship content, but even thats rare), i dont interact with romantic content. i just bring a spotlight exclusively to platonic content. not everyone has to do that, and thats totally fine, but i do so and will continue to do so. anyways pls keep sending mui requests, i love him so much awajshskgj <3
"Mui-kun!"
'That voice...'
"Hey! I'm here, okay?!" Their blood was ice in their veins, heart pounding as hard against their rib cage as their feet did against the ground. "I'm here now! Just ho— just hold out a little longer! I'll get you out of this shit!"
"Yeah! We'll— we'll get you out of this shit!" Kotetsu echoed from his place situated on their back. Their arms were hooked around his legs to keep him in place, while his arms squeezed around their neck to balance himself a little better. They pinched his thigh scoldingly.
"Don't repeat that! You're ten!"
'Ah... it's [Surname]-sama... and Kotetsu-kun..?'
Heavy pants left their lips as they skidded to a stop, falling to their knees in front of their poor, incapacitated Tsuguko. Kotetsu was quick to slide off of their back, settling beside them. "Shit... what the fuck?" they cursed under their breath, palm pounding against the cage of water, only to be met with ferocious rebound. Their pupils were blown wide with terror, the gloss of unshed tears making their eyes shimmer in the moonlight. Dragging their sword against the water's surface had no effect. The young boy mimicked their motions, simply with a knife instead. His efforts had no effect either. "The fuck is this? Why isn't it breaking? It's just water... why..?"
'Come to think of it... I've never seen [Surname]-sama cry, have I? They look so stressed.'
"Tokito-san, we won't let you die!" Kotetsu shouted. Beneath his mask, tears formed in the corners of his eyes. "Hang in there! What is this?!" He threw his whole body weight against the water, only to bounce back just as they had. "What the hell is this, [Surname]-san?! It's all rubbery and gross!"
"I don't know! I know as much as you do, okay?! I may be a Hashira but that doesn't mean I automatically know everything!"
The heat bubbling just beneath the surface of their skin was unbearable. In their panicked haze, they didn't notice the unfamiliar markings manifesting on their skin. As soon as they appeared, they were gone, fading from their flesh with no trace left behind. It was like they had never been there in the first place.
It seemed that they had a hard time maintaining their enhanced state when panicked and unfocused.
'You two have bigger priorities than me right now. Protect the chief, [Surname]-sama. Not me. That would be beyond Kotetsu-kun, but not you.'
Muichiro's eyes widened. His palm pounded furiously on the water, hoping to get at least one of the two's attention. Thankfully, he knew his mentor well enough to know how attentive they were. They reacted immediately, head whipping around to face whatever it was that he saw approaching from behind them.
It was only a small demon in comparison to the size of their body, hardly reaching up to their knee, but they knew better than to make assumptions about its power based solely on its size.
It came from an Upper Moon.
Surely, then, it was imbued with at least a fraction of said Upper Moon's strength.
"Kotetsu-kun, get behind me!" they commanded, snatching up their blade from the ground. "Now!"
A sharp gasp was torn from their throat when an equally sharp pain pierced their side. In their frantic state, it seemed that they were at a disadvantage, slowed down by their overwhelming worry. If Muichiro had screamed, the water had swallowed the sound up entirely; even so... the absolute horror on his face was surely enough to clue one in on his thought process. They winced, swinging their blade with enough force to behead the demon. It dissipated within an instant.
"[Surname]-san!" Kotetsu shouted, stepping back in shock of the sheer amount of blood that spilled from their lips.
"Fuck this whole mission," they muttered, bitter and tired, drawing in the deepest breath they could manage to in spite of the pain that struck their whole body like lightning when they did.
They exhaled into the vase of water.
'Even when you're bleeding out...'
Muichiro inhaled the oxygen they provided him with.
'You still come to my rescue. I should be embarrassed. Let me help you for once.'
"Kotetsu-kun! Get down!" they shouted out, leaping forward to shield his much smaller body with their own. His little hands immediately went to their side to put pressure on the wound they sustained.
Upon feeling their back drench with freezing water, they dove away from Kotetsu, catching their injured Tsuguko in their arms.
"I've got you, I've got you..." they whispered over and over like a mantra of sorts, perhaps in an attempt to console themselves rather than the coughing Hashira in their embrace. No mind was paid to the spines poking their skin, nor the way Muichiro spat up a concerning amount of water over their shoulder. They did, however, take note of the way he made desperate attempts to apologize for practically throwing up on them. "It's okay, it's fine, just get all the water out of your lungs. It's not a big deal."
All they truly paid attention to was the fact that he was breathing.
Alive.
However, he was weak. Terribly weak.
"You've gone numb," they observed as he ripped a spine from his cheek, arms trembling. "I've got you. I've got the rest from here. You need to rest."
"N— no," he choked out before rapidly pulling the rest of the needles out of his body. Something in their gut twisted uncomfortably at the sight of their student so battered. "Why do you always have to be the one to save me?"
"I'm your mentor. It's my job. I teach you. I protect you. That's how this relationship works," they replied, standing up on shaky legs and taking their blade with them. They watched as more of the demons gathered around. "No harm will come to you for as long as I live."
Aching.
That's all they could feel on one side of their body. The pain was enough to make them double over. They squeezed their eyes shut, expression contorting into a pained grimace. One hand pressed deeply into their wound in a desperate attempt to make it stop. "Fuck..."
They were already injured enough as it was from battles earlier on in the night.
Muichiro could read his mentor like an open book.
The book in question read nothing but agony. They were in no condition to keep fighting, and yet, neither was he.
Even so...
The rage he once felt three years ago boiled over again. It flooded the entirety of his veins, searing his skin and clouding his thoughts, stealing away the momentary clarity and reprieve from the haze in his mind. Muichiro clutched his sword with newfound rage.
'Stay away from [Surname]-sama.'
In an instant, the demons were all beheaded, dissipating into nothing but ash and dust.
"Mui— Mui-kun, listen to me," they choked out in a gasp with sudden urgency, as if they had remembered something extremely important. "The swordsmiths. Haganezuka-sama and Kanamori-san. They're— we need to go back for them. Upper Moon Five is still..."
"...You didn't get rid of him?"
Their eyes softened impossibly. "I... I didn't. I am selfish sometimes, Mui-kun, and you... you were my priority. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had left you. Please understand where I'm coming from."
"I should be mad at you."
"...Yes. You should be, and I wouldn't hold it against you if you were."
A heavy silence settled for a moment. Not even Kotetsu dared disturb it.
Then, with tender delicacy, the Mist Hashira wrapped his arms around their torso, laying his head on their chest. He was especially adamant on avoiding causing any further irritation to their injury. The firm beating of their heart was deeply comforting to him (he did, however, note the worrying wheeze that came every time they exhaled). "...I'm not, though."
It was as if a weight was lifted off of their shoulders. They softly wrapped their arms around his shoulders. "I'm glad, then. Thank you."
"No..." the boy trailed off, withdrawing from their embrace. Much to their surprise, he bowed in front of them. "Thank you, [Surname]-sama. I might not have made it out if not for you. I'm sorry for being so troublesome. I overestimated my skill, simply because I am a Hashira. I should have known better. You taught me better than that."
An embarrassed laugh left their lips as they scratched the back of their neck. "Hey... you, um, you don't have to do that. You can stand up. It's okay. That's why we build bonds the way we do; we all mess up sometimes, so we need people we can reliably fall back on." As he rose, they hummed. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but... something about you has changed."
He smiled. Such a gentle, sincere smile... it suited his face, but it was an expression they were not accustomed to seeing on him. He said nothing in response to them, however.
'I'll tell you everything once we're out of here.'
"...Shit! The swordsmiths! Mui-kun, come on! Grab Kotetsu-kun! Let's go!"
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!
#aphelion writes 🌸#: [ the cloud hashira! 🌸 ]#platonic kny x reader#platonic demon slayer#platonic demon slayer x reader#platonic muichiro x reader#demon slayer x reader#kny x reader#muichiro tokito x reader#muichiro x reader
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a winter night's lazzo.
summary. the loss of a mother creates a pain comparable to no other.
trigger & content warnings. major character death (la signora), loss of a parental figure, chronic illness flare-up, mc is HOMICIDAL towards both the traveler (implied to be aether bc abyss!lumine supremacy <3) and scaramouche, violent thoughts, all five stages of grief, scara slander 💕, [name] is stated to have longer hair but it is only mentioned once.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst, hurt/slight comfort. dad!pantalone & reader. 2k words. they/them pronouns for reader. prev | next
author's thoughts. i wasn't going to post this. why? no clue tbh, i'm actually quite happy with the dialogue and dynamics i created in this fic, but i nonetheless had little to no intention of actually posting it. then someone showed interest in how [name] would respond to signora's death, and i RAN to revise, edit, & post this old draft HEKSJSKSGHF
Snezhnaya had never felt colder.
Even though the power of Pyro could dance on their fingertips at their command, staving off the cold whenever they desired, it was too cold; whatever small attempts they made at warming their body were quickly snuffed out by the frost. Even though they knew lives would be lost in pursuit of the Cryo Archon's honorable goal...
It was a little too much. It was too cold.
'Lohefalter... will not be coming back.'
They said nothing, gave no indication of having heard him at all. Then, they met his gaze with a chillingly distant expression unbefitting of someone their age. No child should have been capable of looking so... unreadable. Briefly, Pierro mused to himself that they truly resembled the way their father looked when something troubled him extremely deeply. 'She's dead, then? Don't treat me like a fucking child, Lord Pierro.'
The man's brows seemed to furrow slightly, surprised at how dangerously sharp their tongue was, but he obliged them nonetheless and nodded. For a noble who was taught specifically not to lose their composure...
They were very close to losing it entirely. Before him stood but another child who had been eternally changed by the Motherland's cruelty. It was... something worth mourning, really. Any innocence they should have had was long since burned away. Someone so young should not have been capable of making the expression that they wore so effortlessly, but perhaps that is what being raised by the Fatui does to a person. Someone so young should not have been capable of making the expression they wore, but they simply were able to do so. Perhaps that is just a testament to the absence of innocence, innocence that they never really got to experience.
'Yes. Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter is dead.'
A strong chill climbed the length of their spine, making them shiver slightly. They could taste blood at the back of their dry, raw throat, wincing as they rubbed the side of their neck in an attempt to ease the pain. Normally, they handled the cold very well. The extreme temperatures of the Motherland typically didn't hinder them so terribly; it was, ironically, the heat that made it difficult for them to function. The very power that coursed through their veins after years and years of studying to master it without a blessing from the gods was indeed destructive in more ways than one. Even so, no matter how resilient they were normally, it was just far too cold for them to handle. They trembled beneath their thick coat like a leaf in the wind, thumb rubbing over the Pyro delusion tucked in their coat in an attempt to absorb the warmth it radiated.
...Then again, normally there was Mother Rosalyne to help them regulate their body temperature. She was not there. She would never be there again.
In their weak, emotional state, they dared not try their hand at true pyromancy, lest another Harbinger lose their coat to the flames like the Balladeer did all those years ago. Heating their body was one thing, but generating flames? It was simply too risky. Disrupting the funerary atmosphere by setting someone aflame wasn't something they were all that keen on doing. Under different circumstances, they wouldd be glad to set someone alight the same way they did to the Sixth.
(They absently noted that the aforementioned Harbinger was missing from the memorial service.
If they weren't as well-informed as they were, they'd assume it was just because he was an asshole. As much as they would like to blame it on his shitty personality... they knew better.)
Whatever was left of the Fair Lady's body was sealed inside the beautifully intricate casket that they were especially particular about being involved in selecting; they knew her far better on an intimate level than even the other immortal Harbingers did. No-one could deny them their right to be involved. La Signora had it stated in her will, regardless, that she wanted them involved in her commemoration.
Even if the others dared deny them their right, would they dare deny La Signora's final wish?
Columbina's voice, beautiful and alluring like the call of a siren, did naught to soothe them. Some part of their brain still refused to acknowledge the fact that, indeed, in that intricately beautiful casket (which they couldn't even confidently say was adequately befitting of such a stunning woman like Rosalyne; nothing was good enough for her, nothing would ever be good enough for her) was the one who filled the role of the absent parent in their life. Even as they gingerly traced some of the details with their gloved fingers...
It was as if their head was stuffed full of cotton.
"We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade. In honor of her sacrifice, all work should halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing."
'There's no way this is real,' they mused absently to themselves. 'She said she'd be back in a month. She said she'd take me to Fontaine when she got back.'
If they were more coherent, they'd object simply because half a day was hardly long enough.
"Merely half a day?" Pantalone chuckled. He seemed to share their sentiment, albeit for separate reasons. It was only when his hands tenderly brushed their hair back over their shoulders that they seemed to become tethered to reality. With Rosalyne being gone, the attachment they already held to their father increased tenfold. Archons forbid something ever happened to him, too; the things they were thinking of doing to the traveller were already horrendously criminal, but if something were to happen to their father? The things they'd do would make even the bravest man cower. "People say the Northland Bank's true currencies are blood and tears, but Mayor, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable."
"Rosalyne died in a foreign land, but you heartless buisnessmen and dignitaries always with a covenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland. You couldn't hope to understand, so why don't you keep your mouth shut? We don't want to make the children cry." She scoffed, gaze briefly flicking in their direction; her eyes softened slightly upon landing on them, "...To this day, I am still shocked to see that someone as courageous as your child came from you."
"My willingness to leave Snezhnaya doesn't have anything to do with courage, Aunt Arlecchino," they murmured, shifting their weight from one leg to the other. "I'm a debt collector. It's in my job description. I leave for either work or recreation. I'd stay here otherwise, so please... don't create such a distance between my father and I. I'm no different."
Neither she nor their father had an opportunity to add on any further—not that Arlecchino would have been able to find the words to reply, anyway. What could she possibly say to them? The child she partially raised was claiming to be no less cowardly than their father, but they were. She knew they were.
Even so, she also did not want to drive distance between them and someone they loved.
Not now. Not when they were grieving.
"Hey, c'mon now," Childe intervened, "even I don't think this is the right time or place for a fight."
Perhaps he was sensitive to their discomfort. He did have siblings, after all. It wasn't a stretch to imagine that he'd be especially perceptive to their emotional needs, even in spite of all that he'd been through. One would think the Abyss would stamp out any empathy, but Childe time and time again proved to have certain redeeming qualities that even the Abyss failed to rid him of.
He was arguably the most sane person at the funeral, really.
"...Utterly risible."
"Though her methods tarnished her honor—"
A dart of fire missed Capitano's face by perhaps an inch, dissipating with a faint hiss when it came into contact with the frigid wall. "My hand slipped," was all they said with a flat, blatantly sarcastic tone when accusatory glances were shot their way. "My bad."
Columbina giggled into her palm.
Unbothered, Il Capitano went on, "—Lohefalter's sacrifice is a great pity. Her loss shall not hinder our progress, but Dottore... what of Scaramouche and the Gnosis from Inazuma?"
Right.
Now that their head was slightly clearer, they recalled the details they had managed to gather from Pierro regarding the Inazuma mission, sifting through them mentally once again like they'd done so many times before. Right; it was Scaramouche who did not tell Rosalyne that he already had the Gnosis. If he had, she would still be standing. Alive.
A deep sense of hatred boiled in their chest, spreading and consuming everything in its wake until all that was left was ash.
Perhaps they weren't so different from their late mother figure.
'Fucking bastard.'
Their gaze snapped to the Doctor—he was not the Doctor in his prime, they halfheartedly noted—limbs trembling with the utter strength of their rage.
'I hope you lose all that you have ever loved in Dottore's experiment, and if somehow, by the grace of the Gods, you don't... I'll take it from you myself.'
A squeeze to their shoulder brought them back to reality once again. Their eyes flickered to the Regrator, breath shallow and quick. It was hard to differentiate their emotions from their illness, and by the time they were grounded enough to do so, their chest was already tight with the lack of adequate oxygen. A soft whimper was involuntarily choked from their throat when a sharp ache struck their diaphragm. Again, their shoulder was squeezed. The simple gesture carried a clear enough message:
Calm down.
For their health, both physical and mental, they needed to calm down. It was then that they noted the rising temperature around their body—fuck, was that heat emanating from them? Rosalyne didn't warn them about this. She did once offhandedly mention that emotions may affect their art, but they never thought that'd apply to them and clearly she had shared that sentiment; they were so skilled at masking their feelings behind an elegantly deceptive mask. Despite that, if they weren't careful, they'd end up burning their own coat off.
"Conventional wisdom holds that divine knowledge cannot be rationally comprehended. After conquering the divine gaze, he will make his next move."
"It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics," Pierro began, finally approaching the casket as all of the other Harbingers had already done. "Right now, you have no captive audience. Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and with this nation endure for all time."
With Pantalone on their left and Arlecchino on their right, they sent Rosalyne off.
"In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, we will seize authority from the gods."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
"Would you like to meet Dottore in Sumeru?"
They sat comfortably in a little space by the window, still bundled up in their coat, absentmindedly picking at the threads of their outfit. Their gaze briefly flickered to their father stood at their side before shifting back to the raging blizzard outside.
"I'd rather not," they murmured. "I would faint not even five minutes into a nation that humid. There's no guaruntee I won't slaughter the traveller on sight, either. Also... genuinely, Scaramouche is my least favorite of you all. I don't care what happens to him. His mommy issues got the best of him," they scoffed, to which their father's lips twitched vaguely upwards. "It would be no more entertaining than it would be boring."
"You never did get along with the Balladeer. Shall I take you to Liyue for the time being, then? You may benefit from... detachment from the Fatui's affairs for a while."
"...I'd like that. Maybe I'll find out where all of Childe's mora is going while I'm there."
The Regrator chuckled at that, squeezing their shoulder once more and leaning down to kiss the top of their head. "Do see to it that I'm the first you tell when you inevitably find out, hm?"
"I will."
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!
#aphelion writes 🌸#favoniuslibrary#astronetwrk#platonic genshin x reader#platonic genshin impact#platonic genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#pantalone x reader#platonic fatui harbingers x reader#fatui harbingers x reader
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though the wind may carry everyone's woes, who carries the wind's?
summary. friends tend to show other friends the most vulnerable parts of themselves.
trigger & content warnings. blood, hand injury, implied self-destructive behavior (not the reader).
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. reverse hurt/comfort. venti & reader. 1.4k words. they/them pronouns for reader.
author's thoughts. i dont write about venti enough. hes my favorite ever. anyway of course i decide to write an angsty fic for him when i havent written about him in a while LMAOSHSKGJ also in this oneshot [name] is implied to be related to a major historical figure in mondstadt (like jean, diluc, & eula).
"Venti?"
It wasn't uncommon for a certain windborne bard to worm his way into their bed at night; after a lifetime of being cared for by him, nurtured by the winds themselves to be smart, independent, and strong, they felt it was only right to return the favor when he needed it. Some nights, he'd stumble into their residence drunk out of his mind—they didn't mind much. He was quite touchy and affectionate in such a state. It was cute. As an Archon, his hangovers were much more manageable than some of their other friends' (a certain Cavalry Captain was a nightmare to deal with when hungover), which was an added bonus. However, not all nights were so calm and easy. Some nights were more... difficult. Emotional.
To be so close to an Archon meant seeing them at their absolute worst.
In the Anemo Archon's case...
They tried to remove most mirrors in their home to prevent the very scenario they were now presented with. Still, at least one needed to stay, and that was the bathroom mirror. Perhaps it would have been a wise idea to cover it in some way; accomodating their home to suit the bard's emotional needs was something they'd do in a heartbeat. 'A simple bedsheet should do,' they mused fleetingly.
His mortal name garnered no response, so they tried again:
"Barbatos... please look at me," they whispered softly, hand held out invitingly so that, if he so desired, he could initiate or reject physical contact. Their gaze flickered between his bloodied knuckles to the pieces of shattered glass spread around to the crater in their wall where a mirror had once been in tact.
Certainly, the deity at their feet was much stronger than what people gave him credit for.
Even so, not a single spark of fear ignited in their chest; all they could wonder was how they'd explain the hole in their wall and the mirror shattered beyond repair when getting everything fixed or replaced. Never would they be afraid of someone so gentle. Venti—Barbatos, rather—was not the kind of Archon to bring harm and destruction upon anyone other than himself unless it was completely necessary. After having known him for so long, any fear that they may have felt when being presented with an emotional, heavily worshipped god was gone. He would never so much as think about hurting them. He'd only ever hurt himself, much to their despair. If there was ever any way for them to take away his pain, they'd do so in an instant. Barbatos deserved so much better than how the world treated him; that's what they thought, anyway. Perhaps they were biased.
With the side of their bare foot, they gingerly nudged some of the shards away, careful not to harm themselves.
Upon hearing a barely supressed sniffle, their chest tightened, flicking away the glass with more purpose once they saw the first tear fall.
Once they lowered themselves to the glass-free ground, the bard was quick to shift closer to them, laying his head on their shoulder. "I'm sor— sorry—" he cried between hiccups, nimble fingers clutching their silken nightshirt with suffocating strength. His knuckles throbbed, but he paid them no mind, nor did they to the fresh blood that dripped onto their clothes with the contact. "I didn't— didn't mean to—"
"Shh. It's okay. It's okay. It's just a mirror. I can replace it," they reassured in a hushed murmur, pressing their cheek to the top of his head and wrapping their arms around him. Fingers calloused from years of archery, hunting, and mandatory lyre lessons rubbed little soothing circles on whatever skin they could reach. "Let it out. I'm here. You're okay. Let it all out."
He sobbed harder into their chest at that. All they could do was gently hush him, subconsciously rocking back and forth as if to soothe a child, until he calmed down to coherency. There was no way to help if they couldn't understand him, after all.
(Despite that, they knew him well enough to know what troubled him so terribly. Over time, they learned that it was best to wait for him to talk rather than try to reassure him before they could tell what exactly he wanted them to do. Sometimes all he needed was a shoulder to cry on; sometimes he needed reassurance.)
A cool burst of wind caught their attention. After concluding that it wasn't the god's doing, they looked over their shoulder.
Oh.
There, in the doorway, a small cluster of wind wisps looked inward, chittering nervously at the sight of one of their own crying. They weren't unfamiliar with the little beings; more than once, they've woken up only to find the wisps snuggled in their hair and clothes with Venti laughing at them good-naturedly, telling them that they legally could not move until the wind wisps decided to first. They'd scoff, but abide by his rules anyway. As one would not dare to disturb a sleeping animal, they would not dare to disturb the sleeping winds.
Barbatos showed no objection to the way the wisps slowly drifted in, settling both on and around the Archon and his friend. He absently stroked a finger over one of the little ones, slowly calming down to a more grounded state. A comfortable silence descended, occupied only by occassional sniffles and chirps.
"Would he be mad at me?"
A million thoughts raced through their mind at the sudden question.
Would he? There was no easy answer to such a question, despite how deeply they wished there was. There was no way to know what a long-deceased person would think of the way a friend chose to honor him. If they were to make a guess... they imagined that the bard, the boy who once led the resistance against Decarabian alongside one of their ancestors, wouldn't hold it against Venti.
Shakily, they carded a hand through his dishevelled hair, mentally noting to tend to his wounded knuckles later. A trembling kiss was pressed to his forehead.
With all the strength they could manage, they tried to keep their voice from wavering.
"...I don't know. I didn't know him. I only know you, love." With their freehand, they ran their thumb soothingly over his cheekbone, eyes fixed in the direction of the ceiling. They'd cry if they were to see how wounded and defeated he looked; they knew themselves well enough to know that. "I'd... imagine not, though. He sounds like a very gentle soul at heart. I think he'd understand, Barbatos."
"...Maybe."
"You don't sound very convinced." A deep sigh left their nose as they kissed him again, only now on the crown of his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, darling. I'm sorry the world has treated you so poorly thus far. I— I wish I could help you, but I just... all I can offer you is a safe space. You're safe with me. There's nothing you could say or do that would make me angry with you. I know it must be so hard being immortal, but through the legacy of my bloodline, I am too. You can tell me anything. I like to think you'll always be safe with us, with me."
"...Perhaps so," Barbatos whispered in reply. "Your family was always very kind, to me and that bard and anyone else who needed a secure place to hide in a world of insecurity."
"So I've heard. I suppose it runs in the family."
"...Can we stay like this for a while?"
"Sure."
The silence returned once again. Rough fingertips drew random shapes and patterns on the Anemo Archon's skin. When his weight fell heavier on their chest, theiy dared to peer down.
"Barbatos?" They brushed some of his hair away from his face, heart shattering into a million pieces at the sight of remnants of tears on his reddened cheeks. His chest rose and fell with the newfound peace and solace that unconsciousness offered, and yet, he still managed to look so... sad.
A shaky breath left their quivering lips.
"Celestia above," they choked pathetically, squeezing the sleeping god close to their body in a way that was undoubtedly protective. The wind wisps stirred, some quickly rushing to their face and seeming to try and pat their tears dry. More tears fell down their cheeks at the inherent kindness the winds displayed. "Give him a break. Please, please... he doesn't deserve this. Why do you all hate him so much?"
The gods in Celestia gave no indication of a response.
#aphelion writes 🌸#favoniuslibrary#platonic genshin impact x reader#platonic genshin impact#platonic#venti x reader#venti x gender neutral reader#venti x you#venti imagines#genshin angst#platonic venti x reader#platonic genshin x reader
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i know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes.
summary. "Baizhu reached out to their shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "I just want to know why you left so abruptly. We were so close. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me resent you.""
trigger & content warnings for self-hatred, severe blood, major traumatic life events, depictions of trauma, panic attacks & a fuck ton of crying, implications of suicidal ideation but it is never explicitly stated in an obvious way, overall heavy on the themes of mental health, heavy spoilers for baizhu's story quest and childe's character stories, [name] is called pretty once.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. friends to strangers to friends, hurt/comfort. baizhu & childhood friend!reader, brief hints of childe & reader. 10k words. they/them pronouns for reader.
author's thoughts. it is here. the fabled "friends to something significantly worse to friends again" fic is finally here (june if you're reading this, thank you for the idea lmaoo <33). btw! this post runs on the theory that skirk is associated with khaenri'ah. no idea what her personality is like so.... bear with me pls. she gives off "tired, bitter big sister" vibes in this fic. at one point, nightmare by set it off started playing while i was writing this and i think thats so fucking funny, that is so childhood friend![name]core. a LOT of ironic songs played while i was writing this actually! maybe ill make a post about it?
"What's the last thing on our list?"
Surely the sky had been painted by the Celestial Gods above—how else could one even hope to explain the otherworldly beauty it held? Pinks blended smoothly in with hues of golden orange and baby blue as the sun crept lower and lower towards the horizon. A few stars already dotted the evening sky, twinkling and sparkling against their background.
In the reflection of their eyes, the light danced.
Their friend hummed thoughtfully, brushing some of his hair away from his face, before scanning the words written in practically illegible handwriting inside the little journal the two's shared master had given them. "Violetgrass... I think."
"You think?" they echoed, amused, peering over his shoulder into the notebook. He shrugged.
"Master's handwriting isn't exactly... er, legible."
They giggled at that. "No doctor's is. I think it has something to do with how many prescriptions they have to write on a daily basis. Like... they have to write fast, so they have some kind of language of their own to be as efficient as possible."
"Is that so?"
"...Honestly, I don't know. Something like that, I guess."
He smiled at them, teasing, "Shouldn't you know better than anyone, [Name]?"
"Shut up, Baizhu, I'm still learning!" they huffed with faux annoyance, snatching the book from his hands. "Yeah, that says Violetgrass. Hm... you should probably go back, then. It's getting kind of late," they mused, meeting the boy's gentle burgundy gaze. "I've got it from here."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't mind going with you."
"I'm sure. I get Violetgrass on my own all the time. It gets cold at night, and with everything going on, it's probably better that only one of us goes out. Less of a chance of the sickness spreading further, you know?"
"I can't really argue with that," he admitted. "Alright, but don't stay out too late."
"Don't worry," they reassured, "I don't intend to."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
Darkness had fallen by the time they reached their normal spot for gathering Violetgrass. Specks of glittery stars dotted the night sky; it took all of their mental strength to not sit and admire it. They would never get their task done if they did.
'The last time I did this with my bag on, I fell.'
With that thought in mind, they hummed and carefully took the cross-body bag filled to the brim with medicinal herbs off. They set it neatly to the side. Before beginning, they stretched, hoping to somehow make themselves more flexible and limber by doing so. A series of satisfying pops were released from their bones.
It was then that they began gingerly scaling the cliffside—it wasn't impossibly steep, and they'd done it an abundance of times in the past, so it didn't present too big of a challenge. It wasn't anything they weren't used to.
The ground then unexpectedly trembled beneath their feet. They huffed as their foot slipped, sending them sliding down a few feet and back onto solid ground. The single piece of Violetgrass that they needed seemed to mock their failure from its place several feet above them.
"Aw, come on..." they murmured, slightly frustrated. "Maybe I should have had Baizhu stay and help..."
Then, again without warning, just as they were about to make another attempt, the ground split open.
A scream was torn from their throat as they fell. It was as if Teyvat itself had swallowed them into its core. They made a a desperate attempt to reach for the surface, but as soon as they were in, the crack snapped shut once again. No matter how fast they fell, no kind of ground ever seemed to get any closer. Briefly through their terror, they wondered if this was how they'd die—falling into nothingness for eternity until they starved, mortal body eventually decaying into nothing and becoming one with the never-ending emptiness.
This was never meant to be how they'd die. Their death was supposed to be fated through Changsheng's contract, not through... this.
A sob ripped through their throat as their body unexpectedly slammed into the ground. Upon impact, they knew at least a handful of bones in their wrists had broken. Perhaps it was unwise to brace their fall with their wrists, but then again... it would have been far worse if they landed on their back. Breaking their back may very well have been a death sentence in the scenario they were in. Honestly, they were just thankful that their shoulders and forearms seemed to be okay, aside from a rhythmic throbbing coursing through both arms. Their body trembled pathetically like a leaf in the wind, ready to be blown away at any second. At least a leaf would see daylight or even moonlight.
It was pitch black for them, as if the darkness actively sought out and destroyed any source of light it was capable of finding. It seemed to sap any will they might've had to resist, to find a way out. Their will was gone. It was like it was never there in the first place. The ominous dark took all that determination, all that light, and consumed it like a starved beast until there was nothing but a shell left behind.
A deep pit settled in their gut as they whimpered, curling up into a ball. Surely, this was just a dream. An awful, terrible dream. They'd wake up and everything would be normal—they'd still be on the surface, gathering the last of their master's requested herbs before heading back and resuming their life as normal.
Regardless of whether or not this was a horrifying nightmare, sleeping was far more appealing than staying awake.
It was with tears rolling down their cheeks that they tucked their head into their arms, wincing at the shooting pain that ascended the length of their arms when too much pressure was applied to their wrists, and succumbed to the boundless darkness.
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
Time was an illusion.
That's how they felt, at least, because they had no idea how long they had been underneath Teyvat for. It could've been hours or it could've been days—they wouldn't know the difference either way. Everything was fuzzy. Their sleep was restless and interrupted; no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't truly sleep. Even if they managed to fall asleep, they'd wake up again after a few minutes with a jolt and a wave of paranoia. What frustrated them so deeply about it was that they knew very well that their body would never heal if they didn't sleep well. They'd never have the strength to escape if that were the case. It was infuriating.
The distant echo of footsteps made their muscles tense. The sound ceased a few feet away from where they laid.
"You'll never survive down here like this."
A nervous whine threatened to leave their throat. They swallowed it down, hands trembling slightly.
"Get up. I can tell that you're awake."
Fuck.
With what minimal strength they did still have, they pushed themselves up using their elbows. Using their hands would only hurt them more. It was difficult to see, but nonetheless, they could see her eyes clearly. Empty, star-shaped irises stared down at them, piercing the very depths of their soul, picking them apart like some kind of subject of a dissection. The utter bite of her gaze caused them to suck in a sharp breath, posture straightening slightly.
"I've no idea why the Abyss would want someone so... pathetic," she scoffed. "Look at you, resigning to your fate like some kind of lost puppy with its tail between its legs."
"No, I... That's not..." they stammered, trailing off, hoarse voice quick to die out in the face of her frigid sternness. "I'm not..."
"Oh? Am I wrong?"
"No— Yes, I mean, yes, I was... My wrists, they broke when I fell, so... They broke and I don't have anything to fix them with, so I thought resting would be a better idea than running or fighting, and—"
"Alright, alright, stop. Get up. Follow me."
She began to walk away.
"H— huh?"
"You want to survive, don't you?"
They scurried after her before they could have any kind of second doubts.
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
The woman introduced herself as Skirk, a seasoned swodswoman with extensive knowledge about the Abyss and how to survive in it. She had been kind enough (well... it was debatable whether her gesture was out of kindness or due to ulterior motives, but they had no other choice but to trust her) to treat their injuries, stiffly wrapping their wrists so that they could heal properly.
It took about six weeks for them to heal adequately. Within that time, they were surprised to find that they had begun to be able to see through the darkness, as though their eyes had finally adjusted.
They had hoped she would help them get out when they were fully healed, but...
No.
When she asked if they wanted to survive, she sure as hell intended to teach them how to do just that.
"Slow, uncoordinated, weak," she criticized venomously, swinging her blade down at them with great force. She would undoubtedly kill them if they gave her any chance to. If they made one mistake... "Just how do you think you'll get by in this realm when you can hardly defend yourself?"
"I— I didn't have to in Teyvat!" they sobbed, tears streaking down their cheeks from both the pain of the several open cuts and bruises blooming on their skin and the pain of being away from home for so long. How long had it been? They had no clue. Their wrists throbbed as they parried her blade with one of their own. "I was the apprentice of a doctor! I was safe there!"
"Well, you're not safe here. Get used to it," she sneered. "It's kill or be killed down here."
"I don't want to kill!"
"Then you'll be killed."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
"Stop hesitating. Kill it."
The Abyssal creature at their feet seemed to whimper, trying its best to crawl away from them. It's body was already terribly mangled, limbs broken and twisted in ways they never should have been. Archons know what the eldritch creature even was—they sure as hell had no clue. All they knew was that they felt sorry for it. It looked so small and weak beneath them. 'Pathetic,' a malevolent whisper drifted through their mind, 'it looks pathetic.' With a shake of their head, perhaps in an attempt to rid their mind of such cruel thoughts, cries escaped their throat. Their chest rose and fell in sobbing, labored breaths. All they could hear in their ears was the distinct sound of blood rushing. Their chest ached. Their body ached.
They wanted to go home.
"I can't, Skirk, I can't..."
"You can," she hissed, "and you will."
"No," they cried harder, "look at it! I can't..."
"You can," she repeated, though this time with strange serenity, as she stepped behind them; with her hands, she forced their dagger down into the creature's chest, "and you will."
Blood splattered across their figure as they let out an utterly visceral wail.
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
Soft sobs wracked their figure. The more they tried to suppress their cries, the worse they got.
Many nights were spent in this manner. It wouldn't be the first night they spent crying themselves to sleep, and it was unlikely to be the last. Was it from the pain? The stress, perhaps? They truly didn't know. The only thing they knew was that they could only fall asleep if they exhausted themselves by crying first.
They just wanted to go home.
Then again...
Would they be accepted back? There was blood on their hands now. Fresh blood of a life that had value just like any other before they so cruelly took it away because in Skirk's words, it was 'kill or be killed.'
Would they still be viable for Changsheng's contract?
What if their master was dead by the time they returned?
What if they never returned?
Maybe that would be for the better.
But they wanted to go home regardless.
Then, the first light they saw in what seemed to be ages graced their empty irises. The light was treasured. Without thinking, they trapped it between their palms like one would to a firefly in the night so that it could not escape them.
A cool, smooth stone that most definitely wasn't there before now sat between their cupped hands. The rush of cold against their feverish skin prompted them to peer inside the little cage created by their rough hands.
Inside sat a Cryo vision, still-wet blood smearing over its chilling surface.
That night, they cried harder than they ever had before, clutching the Cryo Archon's blessing like it was some kind of lifeline.
Contrary to what they may have believed at the time, the night they got their vision marked the final night they would ever spend crying themselves to sleep in the Abyss.
That "morning," Skirk would note an evident change in their demeanor.
That "morning" would mark the point at which the Abyss officially reached the depths of their soul, sucking the last of the light from them and changing them fundamentally.
That "morning" would mark the point at which they were no longer Changsheng's next contractee.
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
Skirk taught them much in the first seven months of their time in the Abyss.
The longer they stayed, the warmer she became in her behavior towards them. She vaguely reminded them of their medicinal Master, though she was certainly much tougher than he was. She was not unkind, they had concluded. She was simply hardened. Archons know what she must have been through to be so cold.
Despite all that, she even did them the kindness of celebrating their birthday.
"When you do finally get out," she had said to them that day, "you will find that very little time has passed in Teyvat. Don't be surprised. You'll be a year older mentally, but your bodily age will be about the same as it was when you fell."
"How long has it been since I fell, then?"
Her reply sent chills up their spine, stomach twisting in sheer disbelief:
"Seven days."
Of course, "celebrating" just meant that they got to sleep the day off rather than be relentlessly beat up by the swordswoman. Nonetheless, they appreciated the break.
Ultimately, they had come to the conclusion that she was much different than what they'd initially assumed.
They'd taken it upon themselves to patrol around what Skirk considered to be her "territory." They'd chuckled a bit to themselves when she described it in such a way, but said nothing, only offering to patrol in her place for the day as a favor. Allegedly, that was how she encountered them all those months ago.
They were surprised to find that they, too, encountered a poor victim of the Abyss. It was a boy; if they had to guess, they would say he was somewhere around their age, maybe slightly younger.
'Is this what Skirk saw when she looked at me? Archons, no wonder she looked like she was going to tear my throat out,' they mused absently, unblinking void eyes staring down at the ginger boy on the floor in front of them. He looked like he wanted to say something but simply couldn't force the words out. 'He really does look like a lost puppy... is that what I looked like?'
His blue eyes were wide with shock and terror, glossed over with unshed tears. The Abyss was slowly beginning to dim the light in those eyes of his, but hadn't gotten very far yet—they still shone with an innocence they hadn't seen in quite a while, an innocence that didn't belong in a place such as the Abyss. His shaking hands clasped weakly at his foot; that's when they noticed that it was broken.
Some kind of forgotten instinct suddenly sparked again in their chest at the sight of his wounded ankle. Life... it was a thing they were supposed to protect. That was something they had been taught for as long as they could recall. It was only after falling into the Abyss that they began to stray from those teachings.
They needed to protect him. He was so fragile, the poor thing.
Briefly, they wondered what Baizhu, Jiangli, and their Master were doing right about now. Were they worried? They had no way of knowing. They did their best to brush those thoughts off before the homesickness could set in.
"You're hurt..." they observed, breaking the uneasy silence. "Broke it when you fell, huh? Can you walk, or will I have to carry you?"
"H— huh? Um..."
"Right. Got it. Hurry up and get on my back," they instructed, kneeling down with their back facing him so he could climb on with ease.
"How—" he gasped, withdrawing from them. "How can I trust you?"
"You'll die if you don't," they stated plainly, glaring back at him. Their gaze sent chills up his spine. It was so... empty. He was sure that not even the most seasoned warrior in his home nation looked so blank. It seemed as if all the light had been sucked from their soul, leaving a hardened shell of what they once were. Even Fatui officials had some kind of light in their face, but they simply did not. It unsettled him. "Get on. Now. You wouldn't last a day out here."
Though hesitant and utterly terrified, he yielded, reaching up to wrap his arms securely around their neck. They hooked their arms under his thighs and hoisted him up. Then, with a huff, they stood up.
The silence weighed a little too heavy for the boy's liking. Once the initial terror had worn off, he felt something much warmer bloom in his chest—awe. Absolute, unfettered awe.
Surely someone as tough as them could help him become more courageous.
"What's your name?"
"What, you trying to make conversation? Build rapport? I'm not planning on killing you. Relax," they scoffed. Then, after a brief, awkward silence, they went on, "...It's [Name]."
"I'm Ajax," he greeted with surprising grit for someone who just fell into the Abyss. "Hey, you're brave, right?"
"I... I guess?"
They dared to peek back at him. His eyes shone with light and determination foreign to anything or anyone in the Abyss. It did not belong here. He did not belong here.
"Teach me how to be brave like that."
Little did he know that light would disappear soon enough. They simply chose to look away, rather than mourn the loss that was inevitably going to occur.
"...You'll want to meet my teacher, then. She'll toughen you up."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
"What is that?"
Ajax squeaked slightly, to which their lips twitched upwards into the ghost of a vaguely amused smile. Skirk must have unsettled him even more than they did.
"A boy."
Skirk's cold eyes narrowed at them. "No shit, [Name]."
"He fell and broke his ankle, so I brought him here," they elaborated, kneeling down again so he could easily get off their back without hurting himself even more. He gingerly slid off of them. Once he was off, they stood back up, walking over to her. "Anyway, I see why you wanted to rip my head off when you met me. You're totally right. He looked fucking pathetic."
"Oh, you get it now, hm?" She smirked, placing a firm hand on their shoulder. "Never thought I'd see the day you called someone pathetic."
They shrugged. "This place changes you, but I suppose I don't have to tell you of all people that." Then, they beckoned her to lean down slightly. When she obliged them, they whispered something inaudible into her ear, occasionally glancing over at Ajax. They eventually withdrew, turning to face him.
"If it's courage you seek," Skirk said, scrutinizing the boy; he seemed to shrink under her gaze, "you'll indeed find it down here."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
Ajax’s time in the Abyss was short. They had briefly wondered if they would ever one day run into him on the surface when they did eventually get out. The thought was oddly nice.
He changed very fast, they recalled. What was once a timid and easily frightened boy had become a hardened weapon of war that sought out bloodshed just for the thrill of it. It fascinated them, really. Why weren’t they like that? They were but a fraction of the beast that he had become. The sensation of being alive certainly gave them a rush, but they hardly reveled in it the way he did.
Then again, maybe that’s why they could at least hold their own against Skirk.
That was something he could never truly manage to achieve. Once in a blue moon, the Snezhnayan boy could hold his own against them, but never Skirk. She was on a different level entirely. Now that they really thought about it, however, it seemed very likely that it was because he just wasn’t level-headed in the way they were.
That brought another question to mind, however: why wasn’t he level-headed like them? Why did he relish in the bloodshed more than they did?
The only possible explanation was their origins. Being from Chenyu Vale, it was hardly any surprise that one particular ideology was stamped irremovably into their brain.
Even so…
It would be unrealistic to expect that they wouldn’t change during their stay in the Abyss. Their exposure to Abyssal energy was insanely long—the fact that they still cared at all about saving lives was shocking.
Fourteen months into their time in the Abyss, something in their mind snapped.
They could recall nothing about their episode. All they remembered was that Skirk had them training, as usual, against hordes of Abyssal monsters. It wasn’t something all too challenging for them; they were quite used to her highly demanding training sessions. Just when they started getting slightly overwhelmed, an unfamiliar rage boiled in their chest, and they blacked out.
When they came to, all they could see was death.
Blood soaked their clothes and fingertips. They were quick to come to the horrifying realization that it was not theirs. None of the blood was theirs. Not a single drop was theirs. The shallow scratch on their cheek wasn't even deep enough to bleed. They dared not turn around. Their gaze remained locked into the darkness ahead of them, hands trembling and eyes watering.
Before they could say or do anything, before Skirk could say or do anything, the Abyss spit them out. It simply... decided it was done. As if it had grown bored, or as if it were finally satisfied with the level of corruption in their mind and soul. They lost consciousness briefly, only to awaken exactly where they had gone missing over a year ago.
…
Well, over two weeks ago, they guessed. Time dilation was a difficult thing to get used to.
“Bright… Archons above…” they groaned, pressing their hands over their eyes in an attempt to gradually adjust to the sheer brightness of the surface. It made them a little sick, if they were to be quite honest; they had grown used to the pitch blackness of the other realm. “Gods, it’s bright…”
“…[Name]?”
They peeked through their fingers, squinting in the hopes of being able to make out the figure standing a few feet from them. When it finally hit them just who it was, their heart throbbed. The soft green hair they had grown so accustomed to braiding throughout their childhood, now wild and untamed as a terrible consequence of stress and panic, the tender eyes filled with perhaps a little too much wisdom for a child that age…
They were really back on the surface. It wasn’t just some sick trick of the mind, no.
They were home.
“Bai— Baizhu?”
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
He was quick to call for help, leading them back to their shared Master. Jiangli seemed to almost cry when she saw them again—tears of relief or tears of worry, they didn't know. She reminded them of a concerned mother.
However, something they dreaded terribly had come to pass.
Their Master discovered that they were in no need of his healing. They were uninjured. All that blood was not theirs. It was never theirs. They were completely unharmed.
"There isn't a single scratch on you."
They intentionally avoided his gaze, instead focusing on their hands rested in their lap. Absentmindedly, they noted how calloused and scarred their hands were compared to how soft they had once been. The hands of a healer had become something far more sinister. Changsheng was eerily quiet.
"...[Name]?"
"No"—they sniffled, finally meeting their Master’s golden irises filled with tender concern, concern they did not deserve after what they had done—"there isn't."
The conversation died right then and there.
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
Their departure from Chenyu Vale was sudden and unexpected. Many did not know why they left. All they left behind that could explain why they left was a small envelope for Baizhu, but they honestly didn't know if he would even open it. Leaving him without a single word... it made them want to cry every time they thought about it.
The goodbyes they said to Jiangli and their Master were tearful, but neither of the two could stop them from leaving after learning that they had suffered so much. After all, what place did a killer have in Chenyu Vale?
‘You’re not a killer,’ Jiangli had insisted. ‘You’re not. You belong here, with us.’
They disagreed with her sentiment. How could she still look at them with such kindness, even after knowing what awful things they had done? Maybe that’s why they left without speaking to Baizhu. Maybe they knew he would have pleaded with them to stay. Maybe they knew they would have stayed if it were he who asked.
Many of their years were spent wandering Teyvat, but every now and then...
They'd settle in Snezhnaya to catch up with an old acquaintance of theirs after tracking down his whereabouts.
"The Fatui, hm? Looks like you really aren't some scared little kid anymore. Shame. You were quite a cute scared little kid."
They hopped from nation to nation on a whim, picking up knowledge and still studying medicine on the side, though they wouldn't dare call themselves a doctor of any kind. It was Liyue that they often avoided, and if they really couldn't help it, they'd sneak along the border like some kind of internationally wanted criminal. The idea of running into Baizhu would always send their stomach into knots. What would they even say to him? He owed them nothing. He owed them no kind of forgiveness.
'And yet, despite all that...' they mused, staring vacantly at the sleeping Jiangli at their side, 'here I am. I won't let anything hurt you, even if it means putting myself at risk.'
Their fingers gently ran through her tangled locks.
The constant pulsating glow of their Cryo vision was indication enough that, through their own means, they were keeping those terrible god remains at bay. Between the gorgeous icy energy that generated from them, a magenta glow was woven in like some kind of skilled artist's tapestry. It was as beautiful as it was unsettling.
The Abyss would always be a part of them. They might as well put Skirk's teachings to use.
"Why do you do such insane things?" they wondered aloud, head tilting back to shift their empty gaze towards the roof of the cavern. "You know that if I destroy those remains, your husband will die, and yet... I followed you nonetheless, knowing I would be at an impasse until someone came to rescue us, knowing I would inevitably cross paths with the one I have fought so hard to avoid. Why are you like this? So irresponsible, but then again... I am no better. I wouldn't be here if I was."
"Jiangli!"
"Well... it doesn't matter now," they murmured quietly, gently shaking her shoulder. "Jiangli, wake up. Baizhu and your husband are here. Some others too… I don’t know them though."
"We found her!... but who's that beside her?"
Baizhu was oddly silent, watching how they treated her with such tenderness, helping her sit up when she groggily rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Jialiang did not so much as flinch, however—he rushed up to them.
"[Name]! How is she?! Is she okay?!"
"Gods, Jialiang—" they hissed, pinching his arm in a soft attempt at scolding him. They vaguely resembled a parent chiding their child, despite the fact that he was older than them. "Don't run like that. You'll keel over dead if you keep that up. She's fine. She was just sleeping, I promise. I ensured her safety."
"Your ability to stave off the effects of the god remains is rather impressive, [Name]."
"...It's really not, Baizhu," they opposed quietly, rising to their feet. They dared not meet his eyes, looking anywhere but at him—they would feel an overwhelming sense of guilt if they were to see the evidence of his and Changsheng's contract, the contract that was always meant to be theirs. On top of that… they were certain he could see right through them, see the way they huffed out their breaths in a labored attempt at getting enough oxygen. "Don't try to make conversation. I'm not planning on running away this time. Jiangli probably did this on purpose... she forced my hand. It— look, it doesn’t matter. We'll talk about this, about everything, later."
He seemed content with that answer—for the time being, at least.
"Well, that's a first," Changsheng hissed from around the doctor's neck, "now isn't it?"
"You're getting sassy in your old age, Changsheng," they commented. "Haven't changed a single bit since the last time I saw you, hmm? Sassy old lady~"
"Hey!"
"Sorry, wait— Paimon's confused," the floating fairy interrupted. ‘Oh,’ they thought, ‘so that’s who Ajax was talking about.’ "Knowing Baizhu is one thing, but knowing Changsheng is waaaay different! Who are you?"
"My name is [Name]," they introduced with deceptive calmness that masked the pure, unadulterated panic they were experiencing on the inside. "You may have heard of me through a certain Fatui Harbinger. ‘Codename Childe, but I also go by Tartaglia,’ you know. The ginger with a bunch of cute siblings. Have you met them? They’re the cutest. Anyway, the harbinger has quite the collection of good things to say about you, traveler."
Aether tensed slightly, shooting Baizhu an odd look, almost as if to ask who he was associating with in his spare time.
"Relax. I'm not a part of the Fatui," they dismissed with a wave of their hand. "Those people are a bit insane, if you ask me, supporting a deity who hardly seems to care for them or the general population of her nation... Erm. Anyway. I only happen to know Ajax because we were both victims of the same circumstance a while back."
"What..." Aether trailed off, blinking. Something in the way he looked at them, looked at the blankness in their eyes, said that he already understood. "...What does that mean?"
"Ask him yourself. Do me a favor, though, and tell me what he says. I'm genuinely curious."
"Hey!" Paimon cut in with an annoyed huff, stomping her foot like an aggravated toddler. The thought made them smile slightly. "Stop ignoring Paimon! You still didn't answer her question!"
"[Name] was another one of my Master's disciples, like Jiangli," Baizhu explained on their behalf, briefly glancing in their direction. "Although... I haven't seen them in several years. Like Jiangli, they too ran away."
"Oh, Gods, Baizhu," they groaned, turning to face him properly for the first time in years. Their breath almost dared to hitch at the golden irises that stared back at them. "Don't be dramatic. Are you telling people I ran away? I didn't run away. I told our Master why I was leaving and when I planned on doing so. It's Jiangli who really didn't tell anyone why she left. I wasn't that secretive about why I left, you know."
"Nuance."
They then softened up slightly, running their hand through their hair. A deep sigh left through their nose. "...You really haven't changed at all."
He seemed to smile a bit at their exasperation. It was only fair, they supposed. They had left him in the dark for years. He deserved to find some amusement in the uncomfortable situation they were both forced into.
"Well... whatever. We have bigger issues than my past friendships right now," they said, crossing their arms over their chest. "What are we doing about these remains? I have protected Jiangli's body and mind, but only to an extent. She is infected and it will continue to worsen if we do nothing. However, if we destroy these remains..."
"Indeed..." Baizhu murmured, turning to the man in question. "If we destroy these remains, your life will come to an end."
"If you knew what she was doing," Aether cut in, "why didn't you stop her?"
"You cannot stop a woman like that once she has her heart set on something. All I could do was watch from the background until she put herself in too much danger, to the point where I'd have to defend her," they sighed, "such as what she did here."
Jialiang looked between them and Baizhu. "...I had wondered when this day might come."
Jiangli was silent.
"We've been working our butts off to save Jialiang's life!" Paimon shouted. "We can't just give up on him now! Baizhu, you're a great doctor. Surely you've gotta know of some other way we can save him, right? Or— [Name]! If you studied with Baizhu, you should know a few things too, right?"
"Sure. I still remember some things from that time," they replied, tilting their head back a bit so they could gaze at Jiangli's husband. "Jialiang could continue taking the poison. Jiangli is... in decent condition overall, so it wouldn't be the end of the world to delay the destruction of the remains, but she will fall more ill as time goes on. Either way, someone will die if we don't do something."
"[Name], you've been watching Jiangli," Jialiang stated, standing up to meet their eyes. "How long does she have?"
"If she completely stopped coming here..." they mused thoughtfully, "a few weeks at most would be my guess. You'd probably get a more precise answer from Baizhu, though."
"I would say that is accurate," Baizhu agreed, nodding. "I could... extend that time, however, if I were to treat her using a secret art."
"You..." They wanted to scold him, chide him for even suggesting such a thing, but in the end, they did not. It would make them a hypocrite. They simply bit their tongue. Jiangli watched closely with a gentle gaze comparable to that of an aunt or a mother as the various emotions flickered across their expression.
"...But what would be the point of that?" Jialiang lamented. "Dr. Baizhu, I am all too aware of the dangers of god remains. You are not the first to mention it to me. [Name] often warned me, but... I did not listen. If I continue to sustain my own life using this wretched substance, then not only would Jiangli have to keep risking her life to make my medicine for me, but I would have to live with the looming threat of these remains breaking out and wreaking havoc not just upon me, but my entire family. I know for a fact that I should have died over a decade ago. The fact that I've been around to see Ayu grow up is already a great blessing from Rex Lapis. If my choice can keep Jiangli alive, then... even if I die..."
"Jialiang..." Paimon trailed off.
The man chuckled sadly. "After cheating death for so long, it seems I've grown somewhat addicted to life."
"Life is a terrible drug for those of us who often come face-to-face with death," they admitted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take a minute to talk with Jiangli. We'll wait."
"Thank you..." he said, kneeling down at his tired wife's side, "I'm sorry that I won't be able to repay your kindness in this life."
"Jialiang...” Paimon cried, wiping her face with her little balled up hands. “Baizhu, Changsheng, [Name], is there really nothing else any of you can do?"
"Cheating death is beyond my ability," they answered apologetically. "I know much of arts that are... beyond this world, but they are not used for preserving nor extending life. I wish I could do more, but I can’t. My apologies."
"I am sure that over the years, Jiangli will have tried all the conventional methods known to humankind. As for the less conventional methods, I have little expertise besides Changsheng's secret art..."
Aether's gaze flickered between them and Baizhu as he said that, before settling back on the Liyuean doctor. "...They're aware of it?"
"Try to avoid treating me like an outsider," they half-scolded. "Believe it or not, I was meant to be bound to Changsheng. Fate had different plans, however, so yes. I am very much aware. Even through the medium, that being Changsheng, none of Baizhu's predecessors could manage to cheat death."
"Mortals are fated to grow old and pass on when their natural lifespan runs out," the snake mused. "If it were so easy to combat the natural processes of aging and death, Jiangli would not have had to resort to unnatural methods."
Paimon sniffled. "What a crazy situation... Jiangli risked it all to save Jialiang's life, and now, Jialiang has to sacrifice himself to save Jiangli. What's the point of it all..?"
"Love, I have heard, tends to make people do insane things," they stated. "It's quite tragic, really."
The traveler nodded. "All we can do now is honor Jialiang's decision and bear witness."
"...I've seen many final farewells in my time," Baizhu commented softly, quietly, "but I can never get used to it."
"In the human realm, all things must come to an end. Is it not a fitting end to die for a worthy cause? At least... that's what generations of Masters before you always believed."
They wondered if Changsheng was somehow trying to be reassuring.
"The path they chose was indeed a heroic one," Baizhu agreed, "but when I think of those who would willingly sacrifice themselves for others... I cannot help but think that theirs are the lives least deserving of death."
The quiet whispers shared between the couple gradually died down. It was then that Jialiang stood up.
"I've said my goodbyes. My time has come. Do what you must."
"As you wish."
"We have not been in contact for years," they spoke up, stepping forward and raising their hand, "but I know you well enough to know that a man dying indirectly by your own hand will weigh on your mind. I will take care of this. Stand down, Baizhu."
The doctor seemed momentarily stunned, but he nodded nonetheless, backing off. "...Very well, [Name]."
With a chilling wind and a flick of their wrist, the god remains dissipated with a hiss.
It wasn't very long until Jialiang collapsed.
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
"Jialiang..! Jialiang!"
The man shot up with a gasp, instinctively clutching at his chest.
"Dad! Are you awake?!"
"Jiangli..? Ayu? Didn't I..." Jialiang trailed off, gaze drifting to the seals stuck on his skin. "Huh? What are these?"
Changsheng’s voice drew his attention. "How does it feel to come back to life?"
"Do you feel strange or different in any way?" Baizhu questioned, walking to his bediside. "If so, could you describe it to me in detail?"
"Dr. Baizhu! I thought I was going to..."
"Die? You did, actually," they stated, gently holding his arm, carefully inspecting the sigils as to not disrupt the delicate imitation of immortality that the doctor had created. "To think this is what Baizhu's been doing in my absence... absolutely fascinating. Sorry, Jialiang, do you mind? I'll back off if it's uncomfortable. Don’t be afraid to tell me.”
Jiangli giggled at her husband's look of sheer confusion.
"Uh... no, you're— you're okay..? Go ahead."
Baizhu's lips quirked up at the sight of their enthusiasm. He said nothing of it, though. "As things stand now, you're more akin to a zombie than a human."
"...I'm a zombie?!"
"That's right. Before we set off, I asked Qiqi to prepare and Elixir of Immortality. With its help, you have been suspended in the space between life and death. Of course, this is but a crude imitation of an adeptus art. I don't expect it to extend your life indefinitely. Whether it will keep you alive for a few days, a few months, or a few years...” Baizhu mused, “I am as interested as you to find out, but however long you have left, I believe it should be more than sufficient time for you to say your final goodbyes before departing the world in peace. ...I hope Director Hu finds this arrangement to be a satisfactory one?"
"An Elixir of Immortality? How'd you cook that up? Ugh," the girl in question groaned, "leave it to you to work on something like that behind my back..."
"It's a work in progress that hardly lives up to its name, and it would've had no effect if not for Jialiang's iron will." Baizhu shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. "In the end, I am merely a doctor. I understand very little about the great principles governing life and death, and the perpetual cycle of yin and yang. All I know is that if I am presented with a life that deserves to be saved, I will do everything within my power to save it. Even this would have counted for nothing if not for Director Hu's assistance... after all, did you not tell Jialiang to show us the way before we set off for Qingce Village?"
"Oops! Aaaand, I'm busted..."
"Without Director Hu nudging things in the right direction, we may not have found Jiangli and [Name] in time. They could only hold those remains off for so long."
"It wouldn't have meant anything if not for your friend over there," she pointed out. "They nudged me first."
"I did," they conceded, finally backing away from Jialiang after finishing their investigation of his sigils. "What of it? I was worried about Jialiang and Jiangli. I told Director Hu who I was and where I was headed after eavesdropping, and then she nudged Jialiang in that direction. It's not that serious."
"Eavesdropping is kind of serious!" Paimon exclaimed, shooting them an odd look.
"Fair point, but it's not like I was eavesdropping on someone I've never met. What could Baizhu have said to you that I wouldn't have already known? Absolutely nothing.”
"I knew there were people listening in on our conversation back then," Aether murmured. "To think it was you two..."
"No wonder he didn't mention the Elixir back then," Director Hu muttered to herself. "I thought he was being frank and transparent with me for once, but apparently not."
Jialiang cleared his throat, laughing a bit. "Director Hu told me to keep her suggestion a secret, and [Name] had told Jiangli and I a while ago to keep it a secret that they were in Liyue, but it seems nothing escapes Dr. Baizhu's attention..."
"Never underestimate a serpent's sense of smell!" Changsheng hissed, almost seeming to be proud.
"All I wanted was to help Jialiang find his missing wife as soon as possible, so that he could be on his way to the afterlife without any unfulfilled wishes making the journey more difficult than it needs to be..." Hu Tao sighed. "Leave it to Bubu Pharmacy to snatch the perfect opportunity right outta my hands at the last hurdle! Never mind, I'll just have to put it down in the books as a deferred consideration... one Qiqi was enough of a conundrum; the last thing I need's another one. If I'd known this was coming, I would have whisked him off to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor the moment I found him."
"Y— you stay away from my dad! When I grow up, I'm gonna become a better doctor than Mom and Baizhu, and cure Dad for good!" Ayu declared, making them chuckle into their hand. They ruffled his brown hair fondly. "A— and [Name]! Better than [Name] too!"
"I don't really practice medicine anymore, honey. I definitely don't count as a doctor. You'd outdo me within a week."
Jiangli grinned at them, teasing, "I don't know, [Name]. For someone who 'doesn't practice medicine anymore,' you still act as if you do. You seem very fascinated with Baizhu's imitation of immortality on a very deep level.”
"Old habits die hard," they simply answered. "What can I say?”
"Oh? Is that so?" Hu Tao chimed, turning to Ayu. "Well, you wouldn't be the first person who's tried to put Wangsheng Funeral Parlor out of business. If you're serious about it, you'll have your work cut out for you."
Just like that, she turned on her heel and left.
"Phew... is she finally gone?" Qiqi peeked out from her hiding spot. Upon seeing them, and noting that Hu Tao was gone, she ran over to them, presenting them with a silk flower. "I meant to give it to you earlier... because it's pretty, like you... but I forgot..."
Their face turned serious as they faced the Liyuean doctor. "Baizhu."
"Hm?"
"I'm keeping her. She's mine now. This is my child now."
Both Baizhu and Jiangli chuckled at how purely enamored they were with her, kneeling down so Qiqi could tuck the flower behind their ear. They cooed over her sweetness, patting her head lovingly. Ayu almost seemed a little jealous of the attention they showered her in.
"All's well that ends well!" Paimon chimed, turning to Aether. "If you ask Paimon, we should probably go do something to celebrate this heard-earned family reunion..."
"Paimon's idea of a celebration can only mean one thing..."
"Hehe! At times like this, a grand celebratory feast is in order!"
Jialiang chuckled, "It feels like it was a whole lifetime ago when I last talked with Jiangli and Ayu around the dinner table."
"Rightfully so," they said, "you've been through a lot."
Aether nodded. "This was a hard-earned meal."
"Yaaay~! Paimon can't wait! Alright, first thing's first—off to the market for some fresh ingredients! Let's go~!"
"Wait up!" Ayu shouted, running after them. "I'll come too!"
"Baizhu, thank you so, so much for everything you've done for us..." Jiangli thanked, then turning to place a hand on their shoulder as many had done before her. "And [Name], I would not be as well as I am now if not for you. You've been standoffish for the past decade, but I know you still care. For all of us."
"Ah... I wasn't trying to come off as cold. Things just got tough for me after that incident. I never want you guys to feel like I don't care, you know..."
"Don't mention it, Jiangli," Baizhu reassured. "I was just doing my duty."
"Just your duty, huh..." she mused wistfully. "Baizhu, Changsheng, [Name], would you mind if we took this conversation outside?"
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
"Time flies. It's been so long since we've been together like this... Changsheng, you're the same as ever," Jiangli laughed. "You haven't changed one bit!"
"That's literally what I said to her, too," they exclaimed. "See, I knew I was right! Some things just don't change, hm?"
"...You two, on the other hand, have changed a lot," Changsheng replied, a thoughtful lilt to her tone. She certainly knew more than what she was letting on.
"You're right," Jiangli admitted. "My younger self would have never imagined that things would one day turn out this way."
"I doubt that any of us imagined our lives would turn out this way," they added. "I mean, really... our time in Chenyu Vale seems so far gone now, doesn’t it?”
“It really does,” the woman agreed.
The evening light bathed their face in yellow-orange light; it wasn't quite late enough yet for the light to take on a more golden hue, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Even after all the horrors they had witnessed, they still had the capacity to recognize beauty.
"Liyue's so pretty at this time, isn't it?" they wondered aloud.
"You always did think so," Baizhu replied. "That much hasn't changed."
An oddly comfortable silence settled for but a few short moments as the small group descended the last of the stairs that led to Bubu Pharmacy. Jiangli was the first to break it:
“I’ve taken a look at your Elixir of Immortality, Baizhu, as has [Name]. It isn’t altogether dissimilar from the poison I concocted in terms of the way it functions.”
“I have to say, Jiangli, it was a stroke of genius to use poison to maintain life. I hope you’re not too upset at me for… copying your methods?”
“No, not at all. With your intellect, even if you’d never seen my poison, I believe you would have eventually arrived at the same approach, but I’m still impressed by how quickly you gained such a thorough understanding of it. Jialiang’s still only been in your care for a few days. Not just that—you even managed to improve upon the original formula. That cannot be explained by intellect alone…”
“Ten mora says he tried it out on himself.”
“Ha!” Changsheng laughed. “Told you the truth would come out sooner or later.”
“Knew it,” they hummed. “Life force has never been the only thing Changsheng’s contract allows her contractees to transfer. I know simply because I used to catch our master doing things like that all the time.”
“Baizhu…” Jiangli trailed off.
“…Nothing gets past you two. Yes, Changsheng’s secret art also allows for the transfer of toxins and diseases. When I treated Jialiang for the second time, I transferred some of the poison from his body onto my own. Not only did this allow me to alleviate the burden on him, but it also gave me an opportunity to study its properties. There is no need to worry about any long-term consequences to my health, however. Now that the source has been destroyed, any remaining poison in me will have already dissipated.”
“But you took such a huge risk,” Jiangli opposed. “If we hadn’t destroyed the gods’ remains back there, then even you might have…” She then sighed. “What am I saying? I’m in no position to criticize you for this, and if [Name] knew… it’s no wonder why they were adamant on destroying the remains themselves.”
They nodded. “I had to be sure they would be gone. Believe me, whatever was there before… it is not there now and will never be there again.”
“Leave it to you to see through us all, even from such a distance,” she said with a fond, wistful smile. She turned back to Baizhu. “The reason I left our Master and went into hiding all those years ago was that he was getting old, and I didn’t want him using up any more of his own life force to treat my husband, but in the end… how were my methods any different than his? I risked one life to save another, and then you tried the poison on yourself, too… It looks like both of us have ended up going the same way as out master before us. As for [Name]… heh, they’re hardly any better.”
Baizhu seemed intrigued by her statement. “How so?”
“[Name], why don’t you tell Baizhu how you absorbed the majority of that gods’ remains to keep them from getting to me?”
“It’s different,” they insisted, gaze shifting towards the golden sky. "I mean, I did do that, yes—that’s not what I’m denying. You two do it because if there is a life in front of you deserving of being saved, you save it, and… ten years ago, I would have done it solely for the same reasons. Now, though… It’s different. That incident changed me, Jiangli. I do it because I get a rush from surviving things like that.”
“Nonetheless, your intentions towards others are still good,” Jiangli said, gently squeezing their upper arm. “Would you have done it if you didn’t care? If you weren’t scared for my life? You said it yourself. You were worried about my husband and I. You put yourself in a situation you knew would inevitably lead to you and Baizhu meeting again. You put yourself at risk, and that is what really makes me wonder: are all disciples of Chenyu Vale destined to turn out this way? To live a short life, having given away our own for the sake of others? To fight relentlessly against the natural course of life and death, whatever the cost? …Maybe our fate is sealed the moment we decide to study medicine.”
“We are doctors, Jiangli. We ought never say that anyone’s fate is sealed.”
“Baizhu, I can tell that over the years, you’ve used the contract with Changsheng to transfer many diseases and toxins onto yourself. There are so many, that some of them I don’t even recognize… can you still stop it before it’s too late?”
“Don’t fool yourself. We all know the answer to that question, Jiangli,” they interrupted, “and we all know it’s a very honest no. All disciples of Chneyu Vale believe in the same core principle. Don’t be a hypocrite.”
“Heey~!” Paimon shouted, waving the group over. “Food’s ready!”
“Mom!” Ayu exclaimed excitedly, running up to the woman. “Come and join us! Aether taught me a load of new recipes and said even Dad’ll be able to taste them! Come and try them out!”
“Yes, darling, mom’ll be there in just a minute… Hey, slow down!” she exclaimed, chasing after her child. She stopped briefly, turning back to face them and Baizhu. “Baizhu, I know I won’t be able to convince you, but… please don’t forget that, if one day, you’re not around anymore… Qiqi, Gui, and all the friends that have grown fond of you, they will all miss you dearly.”
“There’s no need to worry, Jiangli. I know what I’m doing.”
“…I can only hope so,” she sighed, “and [Name]? I believe you know where this conversation needs to go. I was honest about why I left. It’s your turn now.”
She walked off after her son.
A silence settled in her absence. This time, however, it was tense.
Then, Baizhu seemed to search his pockets for something. His face brightened slightly when he found it: a small envelope yellowed with age. He handed it over to them.
"You... never opened it?" they wondered softly, holding the letter they'd written all those years ago with such delicacy that they weren't even aware they were capable of anymore.
"I wanted to hear the explanation from you."
"This was from me," they tried to counter.
"[Name]."
"Yeah, yeah... I get it. You wanted to hear it from me directly. I know," they sighed, leaning back against the railing, fidgeting with the paper envelope help in their hands. "It really isn't a pretty story, but if anyone deserves to know... I suppose it's you. I’m surprised Changsheng didn’t tell you already, given how inclined she is to gossiping—”
“Hey!”
“—Just... please. Do me a favor and try not to look at me too differently after you hear it."
Baizhu reached out to their shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "I just want to know why you left so abruptly. We were so close. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me resent you."
They smiled bitterly. "We'll see about that."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
For the first time in a very long time, they spoke to Baizhu.
Not superficially, not as distant professionals, but as friends. It was a moment of honest vulnerability that truly frightened them. They hadn't been that vulnerable since before their fall.
The silence weighed heavily on their chest as they gazed anywhere but at their former friend. Somehow, the anticipation for his response was far more suffocating than any other in the past—even the anticipation for their Master's response was never this heavy.
Then, the Liyuean doctor reached out, gingerly tugging them towards his figure. His arms settled comfortably around their waist.
The weak beating of his heart and the wheezing breaths he took prompted them to sob. The sound they let out was overwhelmingly heartbreaking; it was somehow even worse than the cry they had let out upon taking that first life all those years ago in the Abyss. All the pain they suppressed for all the years they hid from their home, their friends... it all came flooding out at once.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
"You went through all of that," Baizhu whispered, his voice meant only for them (and Changsheng by default…) to hear as a hand ran soothingly through their hair, "and you truly believed we would hold that against you?"
"Yes!" they wept. Archons... they hadn't felt this pathetic since their initial descent into the Abyss. "Gods, Baizhu, of course I thought you all would hold it against me! I was supposed to be Changsheng's next contractee! It was never supposed to be you! I didn't want it to be you!"
"I know."
"It's not fair! You— you're here giving away your life force, and you're going to die young, and it's going to be my fault! I should have done something differently! Maybe then we wouldn't be in this situation!"
"It's not your fault."
"It is!"
"It's not."
"You're suffering because of me!"
"[Name]."
"I only ever do bad things to you," they sobbed. "Why do you still want to forgive me? Why are you wasting your time comforting me? You should just move on. You're better off without me."
"Stay in Liyue."
"H— huh?" they sniffled. "What? No, I... No!”
“Stay, [Name]. Please.”
“No! Why do you even want me to stay here?! You should hate me! You should—”
“You’re reckless with your own life. Do you really think I don’t see it? You claim to get a rush from being alive, but… I do not believe that is the only thing you seek out by putting yourself at risk. Mentally well people don’t behave this way. Let me help you. Please."
‘No shit,’ they wanted to say, ‘I haven’t been well since that day.’
“Are you saying you don’t trust me to be on my own?”
“I am.”
Their throat closed. They squeezed their eyes shut.
He was right, much as they hated it.
“…Fucking hypocrite.”
"That may be so.” He smiled ruefully. “If that isn’t good enough of a reason, then… I’m asking you to stay because I want you to stay, [Name]. Stay with me for a little while." His eyes were filled with a gentleness that they wholeheartedly believed should not have been directed at them. "We still get along, don't we? Though you may have changed, I genuinely find it hard to believe anything about us has changed, so stay. Let's get to know each other again, hm?"
They blinked. Once, twice. Tears pricked at their eyelashes.
"...Okay."
They still failed to part from Baizhu, but he didn't seem to mind, only resuming his motions of brushing his fingers through their hair.
"Qiqi quite likes your company, too."
"Yes..." they murmured. "Um, a lot of kids seem to, you know... Ayu, my other friend's siblings... I don't really get it, but they, um, they all seem to like me."
For what was the first time in decades, they felt truly at peace. They'd often engage in meaningless conversation under the sunset's light with Baizhu in their youth, gathering herbs and the like for their shared Master. To do something so similar once again...
It soothed the beast their soul had become.
The sunset's light, however, did not dance in their eyes as it once had.
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! taglist: @zeldadou, @ophelium-flowers, @aikitsuki.
#aphelion writes 🌸#favoniuslibrary#astronetwrk#genshin impact x reader#genshin platonic#genshin x reader#platonic genshin#platonic genshin impact#platonic genshin impact x reader#platonic genshin x reader#platonic baizhu x reader#baizhu x reader
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to keep the wind at bay.
summary. to block the wind out is to block venti out, but they supposed they couldn't hide forever.
trigger & content warnings. heavily implied family issues, parental arguing/screaming.
tropes, pairings, word count, & other notes. hurt/comfort. venti & teen!reader. 1.2k words. they/them pronouns for reader.
author's thoughts. do you like venti? i love venti! /ref. ANYWAYS i really like him a lot and its a shame that hes so often mischaracterized in the fandom, like it genuinely makes me sad. on a funnier note, i cannot rhyme to save my life yet i love writing venti. help me /lh
It wasn't uncommon for the Anemo Archon to appear on their balcony, tapping on their window until they'd let him in—not that their window was ever shut entirely; like most children born and raised in Mondstadt, they'd fostered a characteristic fondness for the wind. They hated how stuffy their room got when their windows were shut tight. Him knocking was simply an act of courtesy.
What concerned Venti was that, for the first time, their window was locked, as if to keep the wind out. As if to keep him out.
He knew they were in there, awake, albeit faced away from the window. Surely they were aware of his presence? The bard's tapping was gentle, but certainly not so much so that it couldn't be noticed.
Their shoulders shook when he tapped again. They slightly turned their head towards the window, lower lip trembling. To little avail, they tried to compose themselves before greeting the poet at their window.
Oh. Oh. They were crying—well, almost. It was clear that they were holding back tears, and that was enough for his concern to be blatantly put on display.
They stood up, shuffling reluctantly to the window and flicking the lock before pushing it open. To block the wind out is to block Venti out, but they supposed they couldn't hide forever.
"Hi," they greeted weakly, voice strained and wavering. Their gaze was locked off somewhere to the side, hands clenched at their sides.
He was silent, and over the silence came the source of their distress from the first floor of their home. Ah. Now he understood why the window was so tightly shut; they knew very well that, had the wind heard such foul, bitter exchanges, he would have been there to whisk them away in an instant.
"...Oh, beloved," he whispered gently. It was cruel, he thought, that they were prisoner to their own home in the City of Freedom itself. As much as he wanted to resolve this issue and free them from their fear, this problem was one not so easily solved. His divine status was of no use in such a situation. "Again?"
They gnawed on their lower lip. "Yeah."
"Can I touch you?"
"Yeah."
With so much tenderness that it should've been impossible, the Archon took one of their hands in his, gingerly easing their hand from its clenched state and intertwining their fingers, even if it was only for a brief moment. He led them over to their bed. He situated himself first, then motioning for them to sit beside him. Their head fell onto his shoulder when they did, body curling against his side. Subconsciously, their fingers twirled around the tips of his braid, busying themselves with admiring the gentle glow his hair emitted.
"Can you tell me about your day?" they requested softly, the tears silently running down their face as they did. It was hard not to cry in the situation that they were in. Venti didn't blame them in the slightest.
He smiled endearingly, carding a hand soothingly through their hair. "Anything for you, dearest."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
They supposed that, as a bard, Venti had his ways of skillfully animating even his most mundane tales. It was an impressive talent that they knew must have taken decades to cultivate, for he was born not as anything even remotely human; this was a fact they were very aware of.
Still, it wasn't enough to put them at ease.
That much was extremely clear, for when the resonating slam of a door echoed through the house, they nearly jumped out of their skin. Their heart stuttered uncomfortably in their chest, a shallow breath leaving their throat. They clung to the God of Freedom's side, as if trying to burrow into him. As if they were trying to hide. His lips twitched down into a frown as he held them, rubbing soothing circles on their upper arm, drawing them closer into a shielding embrace.
"Let's... let's go to Windrise, shall we?"
"Please."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
The gentle breezes that constantly flowed under the Windrise tree immediately seemed to take some of their stress away, brushing tenderly over their cheeks and drying whatever tears remained.
Just being away from the toxic environment was enough—at least, for now.
"I think," they began from their place in the bard's embrace. "I think you aren't the only one who heals here. I always feel more at ease here than anywhere else."
He hummed softly in reply. "You always have."
The anemo crystalflies glowed brilliantly at night. They always did. It never failed to make their eyes brighten immeasurably in wonder.
Now that they thought about it, they'd known Venti for quite some time. He... never seemed to leave, actually. He was always there when they needed him, even when they were much younger. They had vague memories of being little and chasing the crystalfies around, constantly tripping over themsleves, only for the bard to catch them with a burst of anemo energy and a laugh. His fondness for them never seemed to dwindle and sometimes they couldn't help but wonder how they garnered the personal attention of a deity—one of the Seven, no less. Those thoughts were always brief and fleeting, though. It wasn't something they needed to linger on because really, to them, Venti was just... Venti. Him being the Anemo Archon was of little importance to them.
They wished they could return to being as free-spirited as they once had been. It was a feeling they missed dearly.
"Mora for your thoughts?"
"You don't have mora," they teased weakly, tone dry and void of humor. Their voice was soft as they continued, as if it would crack and shatter if they spoke any louder. "...That would've been funnier under different circumstances. Just thinking about how I used to run around here, chasing the crystalflies. Things were different back then."
"They were," he agreed with equal gentleness, fingers brushing through their hair comfortingly. "You may be visionless right now, but I assure you, the God of Anemo looks upon you favorably. In my completely speculative and third-party opinion, it seems he is quite fond of you."
They smiled against the fabric of his clothes. "Oh? What a bold statement. You shouldn't go around saying things like that, lest he rescind his supposed favor."
"Ehe, something tells me Lord Barbatos wouldn't be so easily swayed."
"Hmm, I can't help but wonder, is that simply your so-called bard's intuition talking?"
"Yep, exactly!"
A comfortable silence befell the two. A slight chill, one which didn't go unnoticed by the bard, ran up their spine in response to the cool night air. Mondstadt did have a tendency to get slightly chilly at such late hours, especially in the later seasons.
After a gentle glow of light accompanied by an equally soft burst of wind, the coldness was replaced with a soothing warmth. Here, held securely in the arms of the Anemo Archon with his snow-white wings encasing them, they were at their absolute safest. It was hard to imagine anything in Teyvat being able to bring them harm while they were here.
Despite snuggling further into the god, content with the warmth his feathered wings provided, they chided him. "What if someone sees you?" they huffed, fending off their tiredness in favor of scolding Venti. "I cannot believe I have to reprimand you. Aren't you, like... I don't know, two millenia old?"
He chuckled at that. "Don't worry about that. You've fought so, so hard today, so rest for now. I'll be here when you wake."
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ignorance is a sin which may lead to a grave error.
summary. A noble man—a boy, more accurately; he barely looked their age—would, of course, try to court them. Wonderful.
trigger & content warnings. reader gets misgendered, violent thoughts but no-one gets hurt.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, hurt/comfort-esque. pantalone, il dottore, and la signora & pantalone's child!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns for reader. reader is 16-17 in this piece & is hinted at being somewhere on the aroace spectrum. prev | next
author's thoughts. i decided to make snezhnaya a very volatile, politically complex nation in this oneshot. tension is fun <3 anyway dottolone is heavily implied here because i thought that dynamic would be SO funny with pantalone's teenage child involved, like.... can you imagine the older dottores and [name] fighting for his attention while he pretends to not know whats going on HFKDJKGHF
Politically, Snezhnaya was... quite frankly, a disaster.
The Tsaritsa's people had long since lost trust in her. She did not care for her people (at least, so it seemed from an outsider's perspective; they knew better), and so her people did not care for her.
As a result, the Fatui's power only extended so far. The Harbingers could only do so much before the people of Snezhnaya decided to revolt. Even Gods can be effectively overthrown if enough people cooperate with one another. The Fatui and The Tsaritsa were no different.
If, at any point, the people—namely the nobles—decided that they've had enough...
Even the top three Harbingers would only be able to do so much to stop the rebellion.
To keep public relations in some semblance of stability, biannual events were held, hosted in the Winter Palace itself. Sometimes, nobles from other nations would even attend in the interest of "international diplomacy."
They loathed such events with every fiber of their being.
Every important Fatui official was required to be in attendance, which, unfortunately, included them. Sometimes they wished they weren't one of the Fatui's senior debt collectors, if for no other reason than to avoid having to elegantly navigate noble etiquette with people they couldn't possibly care less about, with people who couldn't possibly care less about them. They hated being surrounded by fools who only wanted to please them in a pathetic attempt to earn Pantalone's favor, to get him to alleviate their never-ending debts.
'If only Mother Rosalyne hadn't been swept away by the masses...'
A deep sigh left their nose as they internally lamented La Signora's absence from their side. While tenderly styling their hair prior to the event, she did say that she couldn't promise to keep them company throughout the entire night, but still... Being left alone without one of their favorite Harbingers was terribly boring. The woman somehow always kept them entertained.
"What could possibly have such a fair maiden so troubled?"
A noble man—a boy, more accurately; he barely looked their age—would, of course, try to court them.
Wonderful.
"I am no maiden," they mused with graceful, calm poise, fingers briefly brushing against the pistol tucked between the layers of their clothing as if to reassure themselves that it was really there, "though... I suppose I can forgive your mistake. I do have the elegance of one, as it was one who taught me to carry myself in such a manner."
"My sincerest apologies." He smiled a bit too wide for their liking. They had to physically restrain themselves from gagging and grimacing when he took their gloved hand, pressing a kiss to their knuckles. He held their hand a moment longer, admiring the silver adorning their fingers. Pantalone, earlier on in their life, had bought them a particularly pretty set of rings when he realize how enamored they were with his. Something deeply sentimental kept them from ever replacing the jewelry on their right hand. To have a stranger touching that hand, those rings, so casually... it made their blood boil. "You do indeed carry yourself with the beauty of a lady. Your rings are quite beautiful. Pray tell, are you engaged?"
'Archons above,' they swore mentally, gaze quickly scanning the crowd for the closest Harbinger. It was Dottore. It was debatable whether they were relieved or annoyed at that fact. "...Thank you. No, I'm not."
"Ah, then, might I have the honor of knowing your name?"
He didn't know who they were.
Sudden relief washed over their body, and their tense shoulders seemed to loosen slightly. He was not from Snezhnaya. In fact, he was most likely from quite far away. Due to thia, they could theoretically defend themselves however they deemed necessary without causing any serious issues for the Fatui or Her Majesty...
"I will have to decline, unfortunately, but perhaps if you humor me some, I may be inclined to enlighten you."
"Oho? Ask away, angel."
Their stomach churned uncomfortably.
"Where are you from?"
"Fontaine. My family are some of Lady Focalors' most loyal retainers."
A smile adorned their features.
"I see," they hummed as they adjusted their glasses. "As a Snezhnayan of high social standing, I shall give you some advice."
"Now, now, do not presume yourself wiser than I—"
"Do not attempt to court someone whose name you genuinely do not know, especially not in a nation like this, at an event such as this one." Their hand clasped his jaw with threatening tightness, promising a fate worse than death if he did not back off. "I am [Name], otherwise known as the rightful blood heir to the Regrator's fortune and one of the Fatui's senior debt collectors. The honor is all yours. If you plead nicely, I may be kind and gracious enough to let this incident slip by unpunished. Ignorance is a sin, but I do have some forgiveness to spare tonight..."
The color seemed to drain from his face as he squimed in their gradually weakening hold; they lacked the strength to maintain such a crushing grip for too long. "I— I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you—"
"Is something the matter, mon petit monstre?"
They scoffed, letting the trembling boy go with an aggressive shove before turning towards Dottore. This was not Dottore in the prime of his life; he hardly ever attended publicity events on account of his... volatile nature. This was one of the few segments that did bend slightly in their favor. "Some stupid Fontainian noble trying to court me. I knew he was foreign the second he spoke to me. Snezhnayan nobles don't act like desperate fools, especially not towards me."
"Oh, you poor thing, suffering from success."
"It's not funny! Stop making fun of me!" they complained; they had half a mind to shoot him with their pistol, really. Even if he was teasing them just a little, there was something oddly protective in the way his hands came to rest on their shoulders, brushing off invisible dirt and adjusting their collar.
The noble had long since scurried off, frightened by both them and the Second Harbinger.
Admittedly, Dottore's presence probably scared him off the most. They'd rather die than admit they appreciated him somehow appearing at just the right moment.
"Care to join me and your Father?"
"What, so I can watch you hit on him in front of my face? No, thank you. All of you older segments are the same in that respect. I'm alright on my own." Dottore only stared at them with a smile that was a little too amused. They relented. "...Fine, whatever. Just do me the favor of flirting with him when I'm not nearby. After the event, preferably. Mother Rosalyne is taking me out after this, so flirt with him then."
"I make no such commitments."
"You—!"
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#aphelion writes 🌸#il dottore x reader#la signora x reader#pantalone x reader#platonic genshin x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#platonic genshin impact x reader#platonic genshin impact#platonic la signora x reader
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there is strength in numbers.
summary. When faced with an impasse, one must seek a solution. The solution, in question, was a younger god from a different nation. Rex Lapis' solution was none other than Barbatos.
trigger & content warnings. brief, mild mentions of past trauma & injury.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. slight angst to fluff. venti & & yaksha!reader, zhongli & yaksha!reader, xiao & yaksha!reader is implied but is not focused on. 1.4k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is a continuation of this post.
author's thoughts. you don't have to read the first post for this oneshot to make sense but that post does give more in-depth context about yaksha!reader. i love venti so so much if that wasn't obvious enough already. he's the best archon, go argue with the wall /hj /lh
Rex Lapis was at an impasse.
The oldest yaksha between the two that he'd liberated absolutely, fiercely refused to be touched by anyone. When anyone tried to touch them or even get what they deemed to be too close, they'd become aggressive and violent, not only turning into a threat to others but to themselves as well.
It was in their nature to be destructive, he supposed, but this...
This was different
This was unlike the inherent aggression that yakshas were prone to—this... this was rooted in learned terror. It was a defense mechanism.
They were terrified that he and his companions only sought to hurt them, which couldn't have been further from the truth. Morax, however, couldn't figure out how to effectively reassure them of that fact.
(Oddly enough, they were okay with Xiao interacting with the deities and adepti as long as they were supervising from a distance. The God of Contracts found it very strange; why would they allow the one being they cherished most to be put into a situation that they felt was unsafe?
...
Perhaps they knew it was safe deep down inside, but couldn't shake the fear that was ingrained into their mind.)
When faced with an impasse, one must seek a solution.
The solution, in question, was a younger god from a different nation. Rex Lapis' solution was none other than Barbatos.
The Lord of Geo had often taken note of how endeared they seemed by Streetward Rambler's and Guizhong's musically inclined natures. It was as if they wanted to get close, wanted to bond with them, but their fear nullified those desires.
His solution was to seek out someone even gentler than Guizhong yet equally as musically inclined.
She did have a tendency to be competitive, and Streetward Rambler could be terribly vain at times...
It was no wonder why they shied away now that he pondered it for a while. Those two's constant bickering probably scared them. In their mind, the bickering probably seemed like unfriendly arguing.
They were completely silent as they trailed behind Morax, bare feet not making a single sound on the grass. He knew they were following; even if they tried, they'd have great difficulty masking their presence from him and his keen senses.
He stopped suddenly, causing them to stumble and just barely avoid colliding with his back. They were quick to scurry back a few feet.
"Stay here for a while and contemplate your actions. I will return for you."
They scoffed, muttering to themselves, "What am I, a child? You're putting me in time-out just because I bit Cloud Retainer?"
Rex Lapis' lips twitched upwards in vague amusement at their petulance (which was, in fact, childish), but he said nothing, merely turning on his heel and disappearing into the distance. They could run off if they really wanted to, they supposed, but...
Something dark and malevolent whispered in their ears about how this was a very mild, soft punishment compared to the damage such a powerful god could really cause; in fact, they wondered if the punishment wasn't being left alone, but was rather being kept away from Xiao for a period of time. Still, it was very mild. Morax was being merciful, even after they hurt a companion of his. Would he be so kind if they disobeyed him?
...
Likely not, so they settled on obediently staying put.
It wasn't until the melodic sounds of a lyre reached them that they considered moving. They chewed on their bottom lip as they considered following the sound, weighing their options. It was an unbearably soft and endearing melody...
Surely Rex Lapis wouldn't mind if they wandered a little bit?
(Little did they know, that was exactly what he wanted them to do. He couldn't just introduce them to another deity directly; he was sure they would panic if he had tried that. Cloud Retainer, despite being absolutely furious after their little stunt, was the one who suggested staging the meeting in a way that made them feel like they were in control of their situation.)
The source of the music was someone utterly ethereal in their eyes.
They knew immediately that this was another deity, though certainly not one from Liyue. It wasn't all that hard to tell; the way the air around him seemed to swirl heavily with Anemo energy made it very obvious, as if the way his eyes and the tips of his braids emitted a gentle aqua glow wasn't enough of a clue. Still, it was hard to be afraid of someone with such a passive presence. Even if he was a god, they genuinely found it difficult to be more than slightly afraid.
Surely, they thought, this was an angel sent from the Heavens above.
They jumped slightly, clinging closer to the undergrowth akin to how skittish animal might when he decided to acknowledge their presence.
"Come a bit closer. No need to be shy," he beckoned, fingers still dancing along the strings of his instrument. "I'll play you another tune if you do. How does that sound?"
They didn't say anything, only wordlessly shuffling slightly closer.
He merely smiled, holding up his end of the informal bargain.
As the time passed, golden rays of sun giving way to the moon's calming light, they ended up much closer than they anticipated. The process was very, very much like coaxing a fearful animal from its hiding place.
If they were to be completely candid, they hardly recalled how they ended up so close to the deity, eyes unusually wide with awe and wonder as they fought off the urge to sleep. They had been so sure they'd end up shying away from him before they could get too close, and yet, here they were—curled up against his chest with his wings shielding them from the coldness of the night.
"You're welcome to fall asleep, little fawn," he murmured gently, kindly, as his lyre disappeared into the wind. One of his hands rubbed soothing circles into their scalp. His tone was quick to change into a more teasing one as he tapped their nose with his freehand. "You look like you haven't slept well in decades."
They pouted. "Mean. You're mean, Lord Barbatos."
He giggled. "And yet, I'm not wrong, am I?"
Silence. Eventually, they relented.
"...No. I haven't slept restfully for at least five or six hundred years. Every time I did sleep, it was just to recover from wounds."
"I thought as much," he hummed. "Though I have a hard time believing you're so old~"
"Mean!"
It was then that silence descended once again, though it was by no means suffocating or uncomfortable.
"I have to wonder," the Anemo Archon began, "—and humor me a little, won't you?—why is it that you're so averse to Morax?"
They gnawed on the inside of their cheek as they considered their words. It admittedly frightened them a little that he knew of the god that freed them, and that he must have been here specifically by Rex Lapis' request, but they did their best to answer regardless. Barbatos had given them no reason to be afraid, so they would not be afraid now. It was far too late for that. "He's well-acquainted with war and bloodshed," they whispered, voice trembling with sincerity, "and I... I don't like that. He looks intimidating. He feels intimidating. Who's to say that when I let my guard down, he won't kill me? Kill us..? Or— or worse, enslave us?"
"Breathe, little fawn." One of the god's hands came to rest on their back, using his sway over Anemo to his advantage. They found it very easy to calm down with the elemental support he'd offered them.
"Sorry..."
"You're afraid of being enslaved again. I understand. I'm from Mondstadt, you know. I would understand such a thing much better than anyone else," he reassured quietly, "but you need to understand that in order to survive this period, no-one can afford to be too kind and passive. That's why he looks so intimidating. He has to, and believe me, I do not like that reality any more than you do."
"That's..." they trailed off. 'What about Guizhong?' they wanted to ask, knowing that she was not adept in battle, but instead kept that fleeting thought to themselves. "...That's not fair."
"No, it isn't, is it? There is strength in numbers, however, and I believe you and your kin would be much safer if you chose to trust Morax. He is certainly no weak deity... Will you give him that chance?"
"...Okay."
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together through thick and thin.
summary. their love for kaeya was not conditional.
trigger & content warnings. depictions of burn wounds, canon-typical ragnvindr family drama, slight violence.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort. kaeya & ragnvindr!reader, implied venti & ragnvindr!reader. 1.3k words. they/them pronouns for reader.
author's thoughts. soul crushing angst is my favorite kind of fanfic! just kidding. im sensitive and i like hurt/comfort more than anything... can you guys tell i like kaeya more than diluc? anyways the reader is an anemo user in this fic because... anemo users and their, ahem, issues, if yk what i mean......
Freezing drops of rain pelted painfully against their skin, piercing the raw flesh of their various burn wounds like little knives.
Fuck, it was cold and hot all at the same time.
Unsteadily, their trembling hands drew their coat closer to their body as they darted towards Mondstadt City. They winced as their charred fingertips brushed against the fabric, choking out a whining sob at the shock to their overworked nerves. Pitiful shivers wracked their form; whether that was because of the raging storm in their head or in the skies was debatable, really. Perhaps it was the consequence of both. Perhaps it was simply because of the severity of their burns. They couldn't be sure.
What they were sure about, however, was that they needed to get away from Dawn Winery.
In that moment, they couldn't care less about the way their brothers had so desperately tried to stop them from running off. One thing they couldn't possibly handle right then was looking into either of their eyes.
(Though, their reasons for not wanting to look at each brother were different—very different.
They couldn't bear to look Diluc in the eyes because how could he dare to raise his blade to his own brother? His own—formerly—visionless brother? How could he bear to hurt him like that, knowing that there might've been no effective way for Kaeya to defend himself, had he not received his Cryo vision at the perfect moment?
Moreover, how could Diluc bear to hurt them like that? Mentally and physically, he'd created wounds that would leave lasting scars on their young body and mind.
Their burn wounds throbbed.
Wounds caused by either element littered opposite sides of their body, but only the Pyro burns still stung. That fact indicated that Diluc had struck with real, furious intent.
Kaeya did not, however.
The ice burns barely ached, while the fire burns pulsated and seared and sent chills up their spine with every movement they made. Diluc had struck with the intent to seriously injure, perhaps even... neutralize—they couldn't think of their brothers killing one another; the simple thought made bile climb up their aching throat—Kaeya.
That was why they couldn't bear to meet his eyes.
On the other hand, they couldn't bear to look at Kaeya because they knew that the moment they did, they would burst uncontrollably into tears. He'd suffered so long, keeping a secret like he had, only for Diluc to attack him so cruelly when he decided to tell the truth and confide in someone he thought he could trust?
Admittedly, Kaeya's timing was beyond awful—who reveals a secret like that immediately following their father's death?—but still. He deserved so, so much better.
They would face him first when they felt ready to.
He needed to know that at least one Ragnvindr still loved and trusted him wholeheartedly.)
Times like these were those that made them grateful for their Anemo vision; there was no way possible that either brother would be able to keep up with them, regardless of how injured the youngest Ragnvindr was. They would always be faster. However, the rain paired with their wounds did slow them down just a little.
Being an Anemo bearer meant being agile and fast.
They were very thankful for that.
The Mondstadt Cathedral was already within their sight. Briefly, they wondered how fast they really must have been running to make such distance so rapidly, but they shook the thought off almost instantly. The blinding, pulsing teal light emitted from their vision was enough to give them a clue.
Perhaps Lord Barbatos looked upon them with sympathy, for having one's father pass on only hours before a brutal, irrational battle between their only remaining family was quite possibly the hardest thing a teen their age would have to go through. It was something they would never forget, something that would permanently change the way they saw the world. Perhaps he recognized that.
Perhaps he had spared them the strength they needed to get to Mondstadt City safely without collapsing. They liked to think so; any little crumb of comfort and safety they could latch onto was something they would not pass up on. In their fragile state, they needed everything they could get. If Lord Barbatos was watching them in these horrible moments, then they were safe. They were comforted. Regardless of how silly it might have seemed to some foreigners—Mondstadters knew well that such behaviors were normal and common, regardless of if they were rooted in faith or not—they had been whispering their sorrows to the wind since they were little. Some nights, they were lucky enough to hear gentle melodies carried on the breeze as an encouragement to go on.
Surely, they thought, those occurrences were not simply a trick of the mind. Based on what they knew, compared to some other deities...
Lord Barbatos was a gentle god, an Archon of his people. They wholeheartedly believed that.
Their teary eyes flickered upwards as they approached the Cathedral, pounding their less injured hand against the doors.
The response they got was almost instantaneous, and upon seeing them, the sisters were absolutely petrified. What was someone of prestigious descent doing in a state like that? Why were they not at Dawn Winery? Why had they run all the way to Mondstadt City?
Shaking, soaking wet, with wounds that only seemed to ache more as the adrenaline left their system, the youngest Ragnvindr child was rushed into the welcoming warmth of the Favonius Cathedral for immediate treatment.
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
The silence was heavy and thick as their wounds were treated.
"What happened?" Grace* inquired sweetly, hand tenderly tilting their chin so that they'd meet her gaze when they didn't reply. They absently leaned into the comfort of her touch. "Young Ragnvindr? Darling, what happened? Where did these wounds come from?"
"...I don't really want to talk about it," they murmured in a whispery voice, eyes fluttering shut. The exhaustion on their face was blatant. She hummed, thumb brushing over their cheekbone soothingly.
"I understand."
The tense air seemed to thin out slightly, and they sighed. Most of the other sisters had gone elsewhere by then, which they were grateful for; the quiet was much appreciated. Muffled tapping of rain against the roof and stained glass windows was the only sound occupying the space (other than Grace's heels clicking as she began to put the spare medical supplies away—she'd have a certain Hydro user evaluate their condition the following morning). It was calming in its own way.
Their heart leapt into their throat when the doors slammed open.
There stood none other than Kaeya, drenched and panting.
"Sir Kaeya!" the woman called frantically, rushing to his side to shut the doors before turning to him in search of any wounds. All he did was wordlessly brush her off.
Earlier, they'd assumed it was physically impossible for them to cry any more, yet their eyes began to shimmer with the sheen of unshed tears upon his entry.
A pathetic sob left their lips as they reached out in his direction, only comparable to the way would reach out for him or Diluc when they were small and had a nightmare. "Kae— Kaeya..!"
The pulsing ache in their entire body made it so impossibly difficult to stand. A pair of strong arms caught them before they could fall when they did make an attempt to. He frantically pulled them close, one hand cradling the back of their head as if they were the most fragile thing to ever exist while the other wrapped securely around their waist, supporting the entirety of their weight.
They tucked their face into the crook of his neck, hands pressed against his chest, and they sobbed. Incoherent apologies and declarations of love and trust spilled from their lips. Archons, what even were they apologizing for? They knew that they had done nothing wrong, and yet a heavy sense of guilt weighed on their chest.
Kaeya only hushed their cries with such love and tenderness that it was clear he understood what they wanted to say.
*grace is a nun npc in mondstadt who can be found in the favonius cathedral at night. she is described as motherly to children who lack a parental figure or figures in their lives.
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for your happiness, dearest one.
summary. if it were for their happiness, signora would gladly cleanse the world a hundred times over.
trigger & content warnings. major character death (not the reader) & descriptions of grief. inazuma archon quest spoilers.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst. la signora & younger sibling!reader. 2.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader.
author's thoughts. pov signora but as a big sister!! idk i really like her, shes very neat in my opinion. yes i am a venti liker and yes i am also a signora liker! she kinda deserved to kick him. just a lil bit..... fun fact about this fic: [name] addresses ei as baal rather than beelzebul because they dont know about makoto. another fun fact: signora says she'll never truly abandon [name], and she didnt. that flame moth seems suspiciously attached to them, after all <3
Rosalyne, commonly known as La Signora, was many things.
She was the cold, calculated Eighth Fatui Harbinger who tended to use lethal force against all but one of her underlings. She was the Harbinger who, prior to joining the Fatui, nearly burned herself out within the scorching flames of her boundless fury. She was confident, cunning, and sadistic in certain ways.
La Signora was many things, but few other than The Tsaritsa herself and some of the other Harbingers knew she was a big sister, and the only underling she was ever kind to was her younger sibling. She was a big sister and, to anyone's blatant surprise, a wonderful one. She was never cruel or unnecessarily harsh towards them, and extended what little remained of the patience and gentleness in her heart to them exclusively. It was a privilege only they possessed. There was not a single Fatuus—hell, not a single person in all of Teyvat that Signora favored more than her dear baby sibling.
To the Eighth, they were everything. She wished to burn away Teyvat's ugliness—if not for her own sake, then for the sake of her precious little sibling, because they had suffered just as much as she had. It was her and her job alone to protect them from any more pain. They deserved the world, but Signora would not dare give it to them, for they did not deserve its cruelty. They deserved only the best, and the world was simply not on par with that. The world was unkind, disgusting, and utterly revolting. They deserved better than that.
Perhaps that was why she spoiled them in the ways she did; if she could not give them the best version of the world, then she could take them on shopping sprees in Fontaine or to expensive restaurants in Liyue that left little to no impact on her savings. If they were to express interest in something, it was guarunteed to be on their bedside table the next morning. Spoiled as they were, they still never failed to express their gratitude to her. It was one of the things she adored about them. How could she have nurtured such a humble, gentle soul, when she was anything but?
Truly, the Harbinger would do anything to distract them from the pain they had experienced. She knew deep down that there was no easing the agony. She knew that all too well, for even without all of the memories of her past, her bitterness and bias shone blatantly through when Mondstadt and its Archon was involved (and, despite not saying this aloud, they didn't completely blame her, as they had their own reservations about Barbatos).
If it were for their happiness, Signora would gladly cleanse the world a hundred times over.
"Will you take me to Inazuma with you, Rosalyne?" they wondered softly, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of their sister skillfully—albeit absentmindedly—massaging their scalp. "I hear it's a beautiful nation. I'd like to experience it with you, even if it's technically a buisness trip..."
La Signora had long forgotten most of her past, courtesy of the Cryo Delusion gifted to her by the Tsaritsa herself. It was used to suppress her flames so that she did not burn away into nothing but ash. Even so, they never stopped calling her Rosalyne when they were alone together, for to them, she was still their same big sister from five hundred years ago. To them, it was like nothing had changed; they knew better, of course, for the amount of things that had changed since their days of living peacefully in Mondstadt were unfathomable. Even so, they still truly believed that their big sister was still there underneath the defensive layers of ice and fire. Wholeheartedly, they believed that Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter was still there.
She found it... endearing.
Despite everything, they still saw her as Rosalyne, not La Signora, not the Fair Lady, and certainly not the Crimson Witch of Flames nor Embers. Even if she could not recall her past, she did at least remember who she was.
She was Rosalyne, their big sister.
She would always be Rosalyne. Always.
"...I will," she responded, though not before a long moment of serious contemplation. She agreed to take them to Mondstadt only because the Anemo Archon was notoriously weak (at least, that's what she believed; they knew better than that), and she took them to Liyue since a contract had already been established between Rex Lapis and the Tsaritsa, but the Electro Archon was a different case entirely. Even the ever-confident La Signora acknowledged that. "Inazuma is different than Mondstadt and Liyue. As such, you are to do as I say without question, understood?"
"Of course. You know I would never do anything that you do not agree with." They peered up at her, lips curling up into a sweet smile. "I trust you."
Her gaze, steely and cold, softened significantly. She leaned down, pressing a brief kiss to their forehead. "...Good. Now go. Return to your quarters and prepare a bag with whatever you deem necessary. We will leave in the morning."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
Inazuma was breathtaking.
Tenshukaku, however, was less so.
"...Do we really have to go in?" they wondered softly, hands smoothing anxiously over their shirt. Their voice betrayed their stance and expression—both being cool and impassive, managing to wordlessly communicate the same confidence Signora always seemed to have.
Though they were never really like her in that respect, they had to at least pretend to be. Their behaviors would reflect their older sister as their teacher. She had a reputation to uphold. They were always careful not to damage it in the slightest.
Adrenaline flooded their veins. Dread dug its fingers around their throat, making breathing suddenly seem more challenging. They didn't like this place. No, no, not at all. Tenshukaku, though admirable and elegant, had a terribly suffocating aura surrounding it. Perhaps it was merely the Shogun's elemental energy that made them uneasy, but something was putting them on edge. They truly couldn't be sure if it was their razor-sharp intuition or just the presence of a powerful God.
It felt inexplicably as if, assuming they and their sister both were to step into that dreadful building, one or both of them might not come back out.
The woman hummed, moving so that she was in front of them. Her hard gaze softened slightly. She straightened their collar, before delicately plucking off a stray hair off of their shoulder. "Yes. Walk in with your head held high. We are Snezhnayan diplomats. More importantly, you are my sibling. You are like me. You've handled these situations with confidence and grace up until now. I see no reason for you to suddenly change."
They swallowed back their sudden wave of panic, giving her a firm nod. "Right. My bad."
"You needn't speak to the Shogun. Only speak if you are spoken to. I will handle everything. If things go according to plan, she shouldn't spare you more than a glance."
They exhaled through their nose, calming their rapidly pounding heart. "Alright."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
It was in front of Mondstadt's cathedral that they and their elder sister would dance together to the lively songs played by bards—some who were familiar locals, others complete strangers that happened to be wandering Teyvat. A crowd would always gather. Regardless of who one was, from Mondstadt or anywhere else, none could deny that there were few things more endearing and uplifting than seeing those two dance together.
Rosalyne raised a hand, twirling them around as they laughed delightedly. She pulled them back in, wrapping her arms lovingly around their neck with a contented sigh. They were quick to return the gesture, though instead their arms made their way around her waist. The woman raised one hand and stroked it over their hair. A soft hum rose from their throat.
"I love you dearly. I'll be away for a while, but I promise, I swear on the Seven that I will never truly abandon you."
"I know," they replied softly, gazing up at her with eyes full of unadulterated admiration. "I love you too."
That memory—one among many of them and their sister from five centuries ago—was one they held oh-so dearly. She promised not to leave them. Rosalyne did not take her promises lightly, so how...
How could it have possibly ended like this?
They could already feel a deep, gaping hole forming in their chest with the absence of the one person that mattered in their life.
A strangled sob left their throat. "No, no... oh, Gods..." They tried to grasp at what remained of their elder sister. The fine grains of ash merely slipped between their fingers, but that didn't seem to deter them. "No... Rosalyne, why? Why? You could've lived, you... why didn't you run? You were never supposed to abandon me, Rosalyne."
Their eyes burned with tears; whether they were tears of utter distress or anger, no-one could be sure. It seemed more likely that it was a dreadful mix of both, for as the Cryo Vision secured on their hip began to shimmer, the temperature in the room dropped immeasurably. With the transition from terror and despair to a blinding rage came the unforgiving, biting chill of Snezhnayan winters. A thin layer of frost descended upon all surfaces in the room.
Signora may have nearly drowned in the flames of her anger, but unlike her, they would freeze in the impenetrable ice of their's. Their rage ran so hot that it was cold.
Perhaps these behaviors simply ran in their family, for both they and Signora shared a tendency to be extremely passionate about all that they did. The issue was that that passion, when perpetuated by painful situations, became all-consuming and inevitably fatal if they were to fail to reign in their fury.
Signora's passion had once fueled her flames. Their passion now fueled their ice.
The traveller and Paimon both shuddered, recoiling from the sudden temperature change.
"You..." they murmured, eyes snapping up towards the Shogun. If looks could kill, she would have dropped dead the second their frigid gaze landed on her. Unfortunately, striking down a deity took quite a lot more than a simple glare. "How dare you? Who do you think you are to take her away from me like that? You— you..."
The God of Eternity stood unfazed, unbothered by their emotional outburst. Their eyes flickered briefly to her blade. If they didnt know better, they'd raise their Anemo Delusion to her. They'd risk losing their mind or even dying due to the toll Delusions took on one's body. They'd risk it all just to avenge their fallen sister if they didn't know better.
However, they did know better.
Rosalyne was adamant on ensuring that they were wise and wouldn't put themselves in a situation that they couldn't emerge safely from. She did exactly what she warned them about. She wouldn't want them to follow her example, no. Rosalyne would want nothing more than to see them learn from her mistakes.
A stray flame moth landed on their shoulder, only strengthening their frozen resolve.
They had a feeling that the little being, radiating a soothing warmth that managed to melt away their ice and warm them both inside and out, would not part from their side anytime soon.
"Tch," they scoffed, rising to their feet with clenched fists. As if they hadn't broken down crying a few seconds ago, their gaze hardened, and their stance was as confident and firm as ever. They brushed the stray frost off of the shoulder that the moth had not settled on. "Her Majesty truly is the only Archon with the purest of goals. You disgust me," they spat, turning away with an elegant flick of their coat. "Goodbye, Baal. I no longer have any buisness here."
As they departed, their steps left behind small patches of ice.
Before they exited, they mused threateningly, "The Tsaritsa will hear of this... incident. Your blatant disregard for the safety Snezhnayan diplomats will not go unpunished, Inazuman laws be damned."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
Upon being summoned to the Cryo Archon's throne room in the palace, their immediate assumption was that they would be punished. Perhaps they had spoken out of line to the Shogun. Did they displease their God? Archons, they hoped not. A pissed off Cryo user was one thing, but enraging the Cryo Archon herself? That was nothing short of a death sentence, surely.
Despite their natural fear for the deity, they barely seemed fazed as they treaded towards her throne room. All they could focus on was the heavy emptiness lingering in their chest. The flame moth had still failed to part from them. It seemed to bat its wings against their chilled skin in an attempt to soothe them. Its efforts were to no avail.
'Why did you leave me here, Rosalyne?'
They kept their gaze directed downwards as they entered the infamous throne room, lower-ranked Fatui shutting the doors behind them. Despite the unmistakable below-freezing temperatures of the room, sweat rolled down the side of their forehead at the echo of the doors closing. The floor seemed to sway underneath their unsteady feet. They weren't sure if they'd even have the strength to stand for much longer.
Their mind was in utter shambles.
Now, they were truly trapped in here—not that they would have dared to try and flee, but something about being officially trapped in the same room as the Tsaritsa herself ignited a primal terror buried in the depths of their mind. Rarely did they even pass by this room; they were not a Harbinger and so they did not report directly to their Goddess. They'd only ever met her once before, and that was... perhaps four or five centuries ago.
They kneeled a few feet in front of her throne, clearing their dry throat. They willed their body to cease its shaking. "Good evening, Your Majesty."
"Such a formal one you are. Rosalyne taught you well," she lilted softly. "You have earned my praise, [Name]."
Their breath hitched slightly.
"You have shown great discipline and elegance despite recent events. Your judgement was not clouded by confidence or rage. This is something your elder sister did not succeed at—may she rest in peace. I will ensure that the entire nation sufficiently mourns her loss. No sacrifice will have been in vain when we win the divine rebellion."
They rapidly blinked in an attempt to rid their eyes of the tears threatening to spill over. Their voice cracked slightly as they murmured barely above the volume of a whisper, "Of course. I will never forget that. Your goal is of such purity, Your Highness... I will do anything to help you succeed."
The woman hummed thoughtfully. "Anything, you say?"
"Anything, especially in light of recent events. I have nothing but my life left to lose. I would gladly give it up in your honor, should that be your will." A stray tear rolled down their cheek. "I have nothing left to lose."
"In that case," she mused, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on the bridge they created, "inherit La Signora's position. Become the Eighth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers."
Wide-eyed, they snapped their gaze up towards her, only to frantically look back down at the floor. Perhaps they wouldn't be punished for looking at her directly, but the shooting chills her gaze sent tingling across their skin was enough for them to not want to regardless. "Y... your highness, surely I am not strong enough to—"
"Nonesense. I have seen you best Tartaglia effortlessly—you barely even broke a sweat, while he expended his strength in full. As such, I have no doubt that you are fit to fill the vacant Eighth position."
Silence.
"In..." Their voice came out embarrassingly meek and timid on their first attempt, so they took a breath and tried again. "In that case, if you truly feel that way about me, I graciously accept your kind offer."
Her lips twitched upwards, forming the ghost of a barely noticable smile. "Wonderful. Welcome to our ranks, Scappino."
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!
#aphelion writes 🌸#la signora x reader#platonic#platonic genshin impact x reader#fatui x reader#genshin fatui#la signora x sibling reader#platonic la signora x reader#rosalyne kruzchka lohefalter#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader
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IMAGINEIMAGINEIMAGINEIMAGINE—
MOONDROP LOOKING AFTER CHILD![NAME] AFTER HOURS N HE FEELS THAT PARENTAL INSTINCT™️ BC ITS THE ONLY CHILD HES ALLOWED TO CARE FOR 😭😭😭
I AM HEARING YOU OUT. SO HARD. I NEVER SCROLL THROUGH THE FNAF SB X READER TAG BECAUSE THERES ALWAYS SO MUCH NSFW???? BUT I. WOULD CRY ACTUALLY. I NEED THAT FUNKY ROBOT TO LOOK AFTER ME LIKE A SLIGHTLY STRANGE BUT LOVEABLE DAD FIGURE. PLEASE them being his only kid. man. he's probably so protective of them too. that's his kid. his only kid. the only one he's allowed to care for. he's so so gentle with them... or he tries to be, at the very least.
i've always imagined moondrop with a child who's probably autistic or has adhd or some other neurodivergency that makes them sensory avoidant, and therefore makes it hard for them to be around sun and all the other kids because of their sensory issues..... they get overwhelmed so so easily..... so they always want to be close to moon whenever he's around.... bc.... calm and quiet caretaker...... who (probably) smells like lavender.... sigh.
#aphelion replies: moots 🌸#is this.... my sign to start writing for fnaf.......#fnaf sb x reader#platonically!
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the evolution from "please consider reblogging" to "please consider reblogging and leaving a kind tag or comment" is me begging on my knees for people to tell me what they thought about my work, even if it is just a "AKFKSJKSSGJF". btw. just in case you guys couldn't tell /lh
#aphelion speaks 🌸#PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEA#i write for me but yknow. it's also nice when a stranger says “i like this thing you made!”#like giving or recieving random compliments in the grocery store#one time i saw a girl who worked there. she had a super cute hairstyle so i told her “i like your hair!”#and her face just lit up!!!!!!! i think about that so often#that's how it feels to get people's thoughts about my work
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