He/Him
16 posts
Wolf-spider10 - Just Cruising Along - Tumblr Blog
Hello! Can I plz request where the Obey Me brothers react to their s/o getting turned on by their fangs? The s/o is like: plz bite me~ And if the brothers ever get angry and snarl or show off their fangs the s/o just gets turned on. It's ok of no tho! š„°
Anon, bestie, I got you <3
*.*.*.*.*.
MC was what most would consider a trouble maker. They loved getting on people's nerves. Despite now being constantly surrounded by beings that could kill them in many different ways in the snap of a finger, this habit persisted. But now, they had a reward. Their partner's fangs. It was just something about those sharp little teeth that seemingly flipped a switch in the horny human whenever they saw them. MC had a daily goal of annoying the brothers just to see their fangs; the brothers didn't know that was the reason for MC's behavior at times though. But when they found out?? It went a little like this.
!!Suggestive but not explicit!!
Luci
Making Lucifer mad was one of the easiest things MC could do
They knew just how annoyed he got when his work was disrupted
All MC wanted was a little attention (allegedly)
Somehow, the human ended up in Lucifer's office bothering him while he tried to work
They squeezed themselves between the eldest and his desk.
He sighed and tried to tell them to move but they would refuse
He'd get annoyed quickly and flash his fangs but he would notice how MC's eyes lit up
Being as smart as he was, he finally caught on
"You like my fangs, don't you, MC?"
"Obviously."
His lips and sharp fangs would graze across MC's neck causing their breath to catch
"You should have said so earlier, Darling."
"Please bite me."
"Maybe just a little..."
Ooh MC will be marked for a week straight and everyone will see it
Mam
The silly little simp would be flashing his fangs all the time
And MC would take advantage of it all the time.
Throw him a complement or two and he's flashing a goofy little crooked grin; showing off his fangs
Tell a joke? He'll laugh his ass off and his fangs will be on full display
The poor man would be clueless until...
The second born would be watching a movie with MC and they wouldn't stop looking at him
Eventually he'd notice and want to know why his precious little human can't take their eyes off him
"Not that I'm complainin', but you've been starin' at me for the last ten minutes. What gives?"
"You're just so damn cute. From your pretty hair to your pretty blue eyes, and especially your fangs."
Oh the butterflies he would feel. But he wouldn't let them see it (they know)
"W-well if ya like 'em so much, how about I just bite ya!" It was supposed to be a joke, but...
"Please do."
And he will. Only for his human. After he stops malfunctioning
Levi
Leviathan always celebrated a win audibly whenever he gamed.
He always had something to say followed by a giant toothy grin showing off his fangs.
He never noticed how MC would sometimes throw a match to see his teeth when he celebrated.
He never noticed how their tone changed after seeing him celebrate.
And he certainly never noticed how MC liked to look at his fangs, not his smile when he went on and on about one of his interests.
But MC would throw a match and he'd notice this time.
And the next. And two more times before he decided to speak up
"MC, why do you keep looking at my mouth? Do you... like... like my smile... or something?"
Not quite, love
"Yes, but I'm looking at your fangs. They look so hot."
He'd blush and blabber but that just made them more visible
MC knew that this next part would almost kill him, but it seemed to slip out of their mouth anyway...
"Please, bite me Levia-chan."
He'd be broken for a bit, (poor boy) but he would build up the courage and bite them ever so gently
Sat
Satan's poor temper was one MC never pushed too much on
They could calm him, but usually for a price...
That didn't mean that they didn't love the way he scowled and grimaced in annoyance at just about anything
Lucifer said something? How dare he
Solomon was mentioned? Why would you do that?
MC loved to do teeny tiny things to make Satan mildly annoyed just to see his scrunched-up scowl and those sharp fangs
They bothered him just a little bit while he was reading a book
They mentioned something "funny" Lucifer said
Now his fangs were on full display
"MC, why must you annoy me like this?"
The answer was obvious, and they didn't even need to reply as he realized what they were looking at
"This is about my fangs, isn't it?"
MC would nod and get close so close they were almost touching
"Bite me, Tan?"
If he didn't, they would mumble something about how Lucifer would if they asked him too
Then, he had to make sure he didn't draw (too much) blood
Asmo
Asmodeus wasn't really one to lose his temper so easily, so MC really had to play dirty to annoy him
Yeah, his fangs would sometimes show if he was smiling wide enough
But that wasn't enough for MC
They did a lot of little petty stuff like get in Asmo's way or hint that his outfit isn't his color
There was only one time MC pushed the demon just a little too far...
MC had put on their absolute favorite outfit and all their favorite accessories like they were about to go out
Asmo had asked where they were going looking so good
But the demon was ignored... MC talked to everyone else, but pretended he didn't exist
Asmo had enough and finally pinned them to some wall where no one else was
"Why the hell are you ignoring me, MC? Did I do something?"
They smirked. They were quiet until Asmo was scowling and about to say something else
"I love when you're mad at me. I can see your fangs."
"That's what this is about?! You could have just asked!" He was pretty upset
"You should bite me."
Asmo would take them to his room and MC would need an icepack and maybe even a wheelchair
Beel
Beelzebub doesn't smile very often but when he did, his fangs would show just a bit.
They would also show whenever he opened his mouth to eat
That's why MC liked to watch him eat
However, his fangs showed the most when he was lifting
MC would always watch beel work out or work out with him just to see him grit his teeth and flash his fangs
They loved the sight of the big string demon all sweaty and straining
Sometimes they would push him a little too much to see him grimace with effort
But he started to notice how much they stared in his face when they worked out together.
"Do I have food or something in my teeth? You keep staring at them."
"No, no... I just want you to bite me." It came out more dreamily then they intended but they didn't care
"Bite you?" He continues on the squat rack, gritting his teeth and showing his fangs
"Yes please." Oh would MC get an after workout snack
The dumbass is definitely going to need a wheelchair now
Belphie
Belphegor was the one who's fangs were most difficult to see
He was always so tired that it was rare MC got to see his fangs
He liked to cuddle into MC's neck when they napped together so they couldn't see
It was a struggle for MC to turn around in Belphie's arms as he slept like a log
But sometimes they could wiggle free enough to turn and place their hands on Belphie's sleeping face
They just wanted to see his fangs. Nothing else
They tried to move his lips but he somehow woke up
"Stop. Sleep." His voice still low and gruff and he would cuddle back into the human
MC loved it almost as much as his fangs. Might as well ask
"But I want to see your fangs." MC almost whined
Now he's more awake
"Why?" He's not moving from his spot without good reason
"They're hot." The youngest brother would think about it before showing off his fangs
"Please bite me."
He would leave lazy bite marks and hickeys all over anywhere he can reach without moving too much
Sorry this took so long anon, but it's done!! I hope you like it!! <3
Gnaw: Grudge Match
For the first time, the Archon War and its ending are subject to a second opinion.
(And that opinion is yours.)
Osial banks across the stormy sky, feathers of his right wing dipping into the clouds above, water and wind forming beads against his wingtips that follow him as he dips back down. You lend him your energy, and Electro arcs across the vast plumage of his wings and pools inside the beads.
He flaps his wing. A single storm bead rockets down from the sky.
Fishing boats and trading ships are reduced to soaked splinters and fractured metal. The remains of sails, now naught but tatters, writhe in the wind before falling into the sea.
Those who do not die from the sheer enormity of the impact drown in the harbor, bleed out from shrapnel of their own ships, or meet their end at the hands of your contributed Electro energy.
Within fifteen seconds, the harbor has been reduced to a graveyard, the ruined husks of an entire fleet now skeletons lying in deathless slumber on the seabed.
Osial laughs, wild and untamed, just this side of lost to mania, and he dives, his wings glimmering with Anemo.
The Golden House didn't really stand much of a chance.
Electrically-charged Mora are funneled en masse into the vortex above, glinting gold with lightning tails flowing up into the sky in chaotic patterns. Some magnetize against each other, some fly alone, others ricochet into the sea or embed themselves into the land.
Several unlucky souls are punched cleanly through by the symbol of their nation's prosperity, leaving gaping holes in their flesh and ruined bones.
Their screams, warped by the wind and rain and the song of thunder, are a beautiful chorus to you. A performance to welcome you home and give warning to those who foolishly stand against you.
Thunder roars, deafening, and lightning falls, piercing Millelith members. Rain weighs them down, wind steals their breath, and the wind chill robs even the most hale and hearty of a steady aim.
Osial flicks out another storm bead. Several buildings are blasted apart, their rubble crushing their neighbors, metal and stone and wood making a cacophony of ruin.
Entire lives are being uprooted. Centuries of tradition are vanishing under the onslaught. The work of thousands of human lives simply vanishes as it topples into the bay, the waves hungrily lapping at the base of the city and greedily swallowing all that cannot escape.
A small smile stretches over your face.
They deserve this.
With a flick of your wrist, the remaining Mora cluster together into a single massive ball, and you will it towards the wreckage of the city with a little mental exertion.
It crashes down into the heart of the city, right where Rex Lapis once died, and it then erupts as all the force keeping it together simply ceases to do so.
Golden coins and human gore scatter in every direction as fleeing civilians are reduced to mulch by this world's most ostentatious fragmentation explosive.
Osial howls in glee, currents of vicious wind tearing humans from the streets and into his waiting maw as he dives again and again.
In the distance, there is a roar.
The earth shakes to its foundations as immense stone pillars rip free, aimed for Osial, their normally flat tops ground to geometrically perfect diamond spearpoints.
"Morax," Osial sneers. "Come to watch your miserable excuse for a city die under my wings?"
The being that appears then is not Zhongli, or even Rex Lapis. It is Morax. An ancient dragon, Archon of Geo. The God of Contracts and War. This is no simple serpent, no puppet meant to be majestic and awe-inspiring - this is the war-form. The true face of a draconic god, plated in metals hewn from the heart of the world, innards glowing with yellow-orange energy.
This Morax is the face of death.
Morax roars in wordless fury at his old foe... but then his eyes catch sight of you.
The roar becomes deafening, full of such hatred and vitriol that Osial briefly forgets to fly from surprise, leading him to dive instead.
On some cruel instinct, you give Morax the smuggest, most shit-eating grin you can conjure, and you mouth 'where were you when they needed you?'
If looks could kill, Morax would have just reduced you to subatomic particles.
You gesture to Osial, your gift helping to subtly translate, and he launches up into the storm and the highest points of the atmosphere.
Morax follows, howling threats in a language you don't know.
(The elements lean forward in their seats. You've just invited them to the best fight this eon. Bets are already being made. Geo and Anemo both grin at the other, eager to see whose champion is superior.)
Meteors fall, carved apart by wind.
Voices carry for thousands of miles, roaring in pain and glee and fury.
Bones shatter, scales are torn apart, wounds ooze blood in quantities enough to bathe Liyue in a red rain... and Gods war.
On the ground, the storm has only increased in strength, now that so much more energy is being poured into the area.
Not helping is the hail of immense stone pieces.
Where godly blood lands, life is burnt away by the acidic touch of divinity.
Those who did not flee before can flee no longer without risking swift, painful death.
(Ganyu weeps, the work of thousands of years falling apart in less than five hours. What use were her labors?)
(Ningguang vanishes into a bunker beneath the stone, where she can wait out this chaos. She will build herself back up. This is simply a setback.)
(Hu Tao watches from a distant field as her home is utterly destroyed.
...some morbid little part of her gleefully remarks that business is about to be skyrocketing.)
(Shenhe is unaware of this happening, having been spirited away into Cloud Retainer's realm the moment said Adeptus realized just who had been given a burial at sea.)
(Yanfei is luckily out of the country right now, instead in Fontaine to deal with a reappearing case she'd long thought solved.)
(Xinyan assists in evacuation efforts, her flames burning away godsblood and rain to shelter those nearby.)
(Chongyun and Xingqiu barely manage to stem the tide of raging Hilichurls that are dead set on killing the escaping civilians.)
(Kequing lies in the collapsed rubble of a multi-story building, her Vision repeatedly shocking her as Electro takes the moment to be immensely petty.)
(Xiao drowns in his Karmic Debt, feathers trying to force their way through his skin as his more animalistic instincts refuse to obey.)
(Baizhu has already fled, knowing that he neither can be nor wishes to be of use in this fight. His work is not yet done.)
(Yaoyao stands guard over the population who have made it to her home village.)
(Yun Jin helps to gather scattered families back together amongst the crowds of refugees. Xiangling and her father work to feed the masses while they are all displaced.)
(Beidou watches the storm from the far horizon on the deck of the Alcor. Going in would be suicide, but not helping is just as unthinkable. She must choose, but the sheer weight of the choice is paralyzing. The fleet follows behind her, whether that is into certain death or into retreat.)
(Qiqi stands in the heaviest torrents of the storm. Where the blood of gods stains her skin, life is breathed back into dead flesh.))
Far above in the heavens, Osial and Zhongli are tangled, claws gouging into the new Anemo Archon's innards as coils attempt to shatter the Geo Archon's ancient spine.
There is a deafening crack as Morax's spine bends in a way it was never supposed to.
Ribbons of intestine hang from the massive wound in Osial's underbelly.
Both of them begin to fall to the face of Teyvat tens of thousands of miles below, and you are along for the ride.
Osial lets out a wheezy cackle as he tightens his grip on Morax, drowning in his own blood.
Morax writhes, wings unresponsive.
You hug yourself against Osial. Impact comes far sooner than you expected.
There is darkness.
When you wake, you are in the shallows of an immense crater, exactly where Liyue Harbor should have been. The moon glows pale white above you.
Shattered pillars and ruined buildings jut from the not-quite-bay.
Sitting next to you is a not-very-undead Qiqi. She gives you a relieved look when she sees you're alive. You offer her a thumbs up, as though that will solve the issue.
She accepts it with as much grace as anyone in her situation can and returns the thumbs up, smiling at you faintly.
Beneath you is Osial, dying from mortal wounds but still very alive. Somewhere in the distance is a similarly wounded Morax.
You climb down from your dying companion and come to face him.
"Ah... good. You still live. I did not fail you," Osial gurgles. "Thank you... for helping me settle the score, my maker."
You tell him to hold on. You're sure there's something you can do to heal him. He lets out an amused huff.
"Your kindness is touching, but I know my end is coming. I can feel the Abyss."
You refuse. Osial is yours, damn it. Your friend. Your first Archon. Your protector.
A feeling wells up inside of you.
He will not die. You won't allow it.
Your eyes burn as tears stream down your face. You rest a hand against his scaly face, and ask him to trust you one more time.
"Of course. Always."
You let your power flow. The world erupts into starlight as a new constellation is born, sky adorned with a new pattern of stars: Serpens Fidelis.
The loyal serpent.
Where once laid your dying companion is now a male of mortal human size, who sits up, obviously quite discombobulated. He manages to find his feet, though repeatedly stumbles as he takes his first steps.
Scarred tan skin faintly reflects the moonlight, bathing him in an ethereal glow. Silver locks of hair with deep blue accents seem to drink in the moonlight.
He turns to you, finally, and grins, canine teeth closer to fangs than human, Cherenkov blue eyes glimmering with undeniable joy.
"Thank you, my maker. This new form is far less damaged."
From his right hip dangles a Hydro vision. The Anemo Gnosis is in your hands instead. It appears the cost for his life was you reclaiming the archonhood you bestowed upon him.
He is otherwise entirely nude and doesn't particularly seem to notice this. Maybe that's because he's never had to wear clothes before.
You kindly point this out to him, more than a little embarrassed on his behalf, your hands over Qiqi's eyes so she doesn't see.
Holy shit, was he always that built?
He grins at you, shooting you a salacious wink. "Yes, yes. Get an eyeful of my statuesque physique. I worked for many years on it."
You ask how he managed that as best you can while dying of embarrassment.
"You become quite proficient at lifting weights and swimming at the same time while trying to struggle free of stone javelins pinning you to the seafloor," he says mildly.
He manipulates the water and stormclouds into a set of luxurious robes. A sash at his waist now holds the Hydro vision.
On his back rests a fragment of the Jade Chamber carved into a massive greatsword.
"Shall we gloat over our dying adversary together, my maker?"
Yes, this sounds like a phenomenal idea.
You let Qiqi go, now that Osial is not running a one-hydra nudist colony, and she follows behind the two of you like a lost puppy.
Morax has returned to the form of Zhongli by the time you get to him.
The Vortex Vanquisher lies shattered at his side, and hundreds of rips and tears in his clothes display his grievous wounds.
Osial confidently struts over.
"Why hello, hated enemy mine~"
Zhongli weakly snarls up at him, and also at you, his fists curling feebly at his sides.
"Damn you both. May the Creator strike you both down into the depths of the Abyss."
Osial lets out a small 'snrk', begins to lowly chuckle, and slowly escalates to peals of howling, gleeful laughter. Zhongli just looks offended while Osial laughs himself nearly sick.
"By the maker, you have no idea who you're talking to right now, do you?" He wheezes, tears in his eyes, clutching at his sides.
"The destroyer of my people and an abomination wearing the skin of the Creator of All." Zhongli fires back, indignant. "Are you blind?"
"Go ahead and pray for our maker to save you. See what happens," Osial says, grinning cruelly.
Zhongli murmurs a prayer for protection from evil.
A faint glimmer of magical energy escapes his lips and swirls just above your hands. You cringe at it and wave it away like it's smoke.
Zhongli goes ghost-white, his eyes becoming impossibly wide.
"Creator?"
Tears bead at the corners of his eyes as his actions finally begin to play back in his mind.
"Please, my maker, forgive m-"
Osial cuts off his head.
"What an asshole," he snickers, some blood now on his cheek, a massive grin on his face. "I'm glad he's dead."
You just look at him like he's crazy. Which he probably is.
"Oooooooooohhhh, that's who you are." Qiqi says from behind you, having caught on to your true identity.
Another massive hydra erupts from the ocean in the distance and lets out a sound akin to whalesong.
"HI, HONEY!" Osial yells in her direction before immediately bolting towards her.
You let out a distressed sigh. Exactly what kind of mess have you just gotten into?
(Taglist:
@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead @call-me-shroom @evqnescents @valeriele3 @mochicurls21 @sinnful-darling @fleshdotmp4 @ash1 @chilling-on-the-moon @fluffy-koalala @extremelytoastybread @euphoricaldemise
This should probably be all of you.))
THE TUMBLR HORSE DERBY
WELCOME TO THE FIRST TUMBLR HORSE DERBY (that i know of, anyway)
HOW TO HORSE: ššš - Vote for your FAVOURITE horse to make them go faster! (yknow, like those carnival horse derby games!) MAY THE BEST HORSE WIN
(also sample size reblog yadda yadda yadda HORSE)
Gnaw (6)
The bottom of the ocean is a cold, dark place. There is no light here, other than the faint glow of many bioluminescent markings on Osial's body. The sun's heat has never reached this deep, and the cold is so intense that you've shivered yourself to death repeatedly.
But with each death, you adapted. The icy temperature of these depths no longer mattered.
The crushing pressure of the deep ocean that once threatened to splinter your bones and crush you into a meatball now had no effect.
Gills just below your ribs filter oxygen into your body now that your lungs are useless.
"Great Storm, what are you thinking on so intensely?" Osial asks. "You have been silent and still for nearly three days."
You tell your newfound friend that you might have an idea of how to leave, but it will require his help.
"Of course. How may I serve my Creator?"
You ask for a bit of his flesh and explain that you gain energy from eating or from exposure to the elements.
You've already spent three days impaled through with stone spears at the bottom of the sea - you've probably absorbed plenty of energy and just need a catalyst.
His heads argue over who will be donating the required offering, but eventually settle on letting the central head bite off the very tip of its tongue.
A bit of glowing blue tongue drifts lazily on the currents and towards you. It's a chunk of flesh the size of a glass bottle, oozing a dark blue fluid.
You reach out with your unpinned arm and grip it, briefly cringing when it squirms in your grasp.
Once it's close to your mouth, you open up and bite into it quickly. This also means that you get some seawater into your mouth along with the bit of meat.
Gross.
The god-flesh isn't particularly appetizing, either. As you do your best to chew it, it writhes and twitches in your mouth. The taste is ponderously bland, though faintly fishy, and you're more than a little unsatisfied.
It takes you more time than you'd like to consume it, but once the last of it goes down, a feeling begins to flow through you.
A new sensation. Like there's a part of you that's just lost the pins-and-needles from being slept on and is back to normal.
Not just that, either. You feel revitalized, like the pains of your body are far away. You plant your palms against the seafloor, dig your fingers into the sands, and begin to rise. Osial looks delighted.
The spears of stone dig into your flesh, but you will not give up now. How can you? You feel unstoppable.
Electro energy arcs across your body and up the monstrous pillars, scorching them with such heat that they briefly glow.
You may be buried beneath the weight of a mountain... but faith can move mountains.
Through labored breathing, you ask what Osial desires most in the world.
"To sink Liyue to the bottom of the ocean, and see Morax take my place in the darkness below the waves eternally."
More personal than that.
"To hold Beisht, my beloved, in my embrace again."
...more achievable from his current position?
"Oh. Freedom, of course. To not bear these ridiculous spears in my back any longer."
And then, that new part of yourself flares to life. You smile through the pain of saltwater against open wounds and tell him you can manage that.
(Anemo smiles, eye glowing in the heart of the storm. A new bearer already? You're so kind.)
Mondstadt's suffering comes to an end, the haze of nightmarish heat finally lifting... but the winds are not the same.
The scent of sickness and rot no longer carries on the breeze because the breezes are so much milder.
Anemo visions dim, and then flare much brighter.
Less than an eighth of Mondstadt's population had succumbed to the heat, but many had become sick from an outbreak of food poisoning and the rapid onset of heat exhaustion. Others had become ill in the process of burying loved ones.
Their cries for aid went unanswered, and Venti's faith had been deeply shaken.
If their prayers were not reaching you... then who had they been worshipping all this time?
(He receives no answer, only the sounds of mourning on the wind as Mondstadt begins to burn the diseased dead.)
You stand at the bottom of the sea, hand against a stone spear weighing down Osial.
The electro in your body was refined and stretched into an axe, which you now used to hack away at the first pillar.
Every minute or so, you have him move slightly to see if the weight is becoming more manageable.
After four hours, each of them has been weakened enough for him to push off if he wasn't exhausted. Which he is.
You reach for your new power and then to Osial. Across the world, Anemo visions glow faintly. In Zapolyarny Palace, the Gnosis of the Anemo Archon unwinds into a soft breeze and vanishes.
Words come to your lips unbidden, a recital from a time you've forgotten.
"Noble beast. I, your maker, wish to form a pact with you."
Osial looks at you curiously, and then again in surprise when the Anemo Gnosis appears in your hand.
"You have shown me kindness in this dark place and given me the power to unbind us both.
You have been imprisoned beneath the waves for centuries by the one you hate the most, away from your lover, your goals just within reach but lost to you.
I have been hunted across the land I have traveled by traitorous mongrels and then abandoned here to rot alongside you.
With one look, you knew it was me. With but a single glance, you understood who now was at your side.
Your fealty to me is so very valuable, especially now."
You hold out the Anemo Gnosis in his direction.
"Become my Anemo Archon. The true God of Storms, and the symbol of destruction for all those who would rise against me."
He laughs with all five heads.
"I accept, my maker. The skies will be mine, and all who breathe beneath them will know you with reverence or know nothing ever again."
"This pact is sealed."
The sea burns bright with teal and blue light and then erupts into a monstrous storm, a hurricane screaming to life as a massive beam of energy pierces the heavens and vaporizes Guyun Stone Forest.
A new lord of the skies erupts from the sea with a joyous scream, stone pillars falling from his back, feathers and scales colored brilliantly.
"MORAX! I will have your head as a trophy for the All-Maker and your flesh as my meal! Face me and die, or watch me tear this miserable collection of insects apart like the coward you are!"
On his back is you, and in your eyes is a hunger for vengeance.
Your power fills the hurricane. Vast blades of lightning ready to fall at your command. Screaming winds coalesce around Osial. Arcs of plasma line his new fangs.
Liyue will pay for its actions, and the two of you will be collecting with interest.
((Taglist:
@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead @call-me-shroom @evqnescents @valeriele3 @mochicurls21 @sinnful-darling @fleshdotmp4
Gnaw (5)
You drift in infinity, if only for a moment, in a place devoid of feeling. There is no heat or cold, no light or darkness, no life, no death. There is an overwhelming absence.
Hello, my maker, Says a voice into your ear.
Warm hands tug at your sleeve and turn you in place.
You make eye contact with a woman in perhaps her early twenties, wearing a simple black dress. She's somehow standing on the nothingness as if it's solid ground.
She gives you a smile.
I wish we'd have had any other way to meet. You a corpse, myself a stranger.
I am Nil. The Abyss Made Manifest. The first of your children. I'm sure you have no recollection of me from the... simulation of Teyvat. Genshin Impact, I believe they called it?
You nod, not quite sure what to say.
...or even if you can say anything, because this place probably doesn't have a way for your voice to travel.
She smiles, giving you a strangely abashed look.
Sorry. I'm not used to guests. Or anyone other than my children, the Abyssals. If I'd known you'd be coming, I'd have made you a chair or something.
You shrug. At this point, you'll settle for her not trying to maim you.
Which, in hindsight, is kind of pathetic to settle for.
She offers a hand. You take it, and she pulls you close for a brief hug before somehow sitting you down on a solid plane of nothingness, your legs dangling off the edge like you're both sitting on a pier.
I can't give you much help from here, and your body is much too feeble to sustain abyssal energies, but I've been putting you back together every time you die.
I know it hurts, and I know you probably don't want to be here if all it means is being miserable, but...
They know not what they do. To them, you're someone wearing their creator's face. And that's not a valid excuse for murder, but they're blind to the truth.
You don't understand. It's probably written all over your face, based on the sad, sympathetic look she gives you.
There's another you. Sort of. An unstable clone. Some alchemist made them when Khaenri'ah existed. They had been attempting to summon you and bind your soul to an immortal body so you could guide Teyvat as you did before. They managed to only summon a copy of your essence.
The elements and Celestia annihilated Khaenri'ah for playing with forces they had no right to control, and I devoured most of the survivors for supporting someone that was trying to pull you away from your rest.
You have many questions. And no way to ask them. She catches on.
Oh! Also, you can just talk in your head and I'll hear it. It's not quite telepathy, but you and I are closer than the elements are to you, since I was the first.
You ask why the people of Teyvat didn't kill them, or why the elements couldn't.
You didn't want us interfering with the world so directly. That's why you gave my siblings the ability to grant Visions and the Gnosis. So they could still shape the world and watch over the souls they cared for.
You didn't want them to rule Teyvat, or to terrorize it, so you set some limitations on them.
Let's just say vaporizing an entire civilization was the kind of thing that caused backlash, massively draining them. They've spent all the time since then regaining their strength.
As for the mortals, they were just happy to have who they thought was you back.
You ask what the past you was like.
I can't tell you that. You'll remember on your own time.
You tell her that's not helpful, and also kind of a dick move to get your hopes up like that. She giggles.
This you is much more feisty. I like that.
You ask for any advice she can give you, because you're pretty lost and more or less without a clue right now. She perks up a little.
You'll make some friends in Liyue. I promise. Not everyone on Teyvat is hostile.
She looks away awkwardly.
Just, um. Most of them. Sorry. And I can't tell you who.
You sigh. At least there's a chance for someone to not immediately murder you.
Our time is up for now. I'm sorry. The waking world calls for you.
You tell her that the two of you will meet again and give her a wink. She laughs.
(Her warm, bright laughter follows you up to the world above.)
You wake with a terrible pain in the neck, and a golden band around your throat where you were decapitated.
You're more than a bit pissed about having your head chopped off because of someone else that's wearing your face.
A shitty copy at that.
You hope you'll meet one of those friends you were promised soon, because right now there's very little attachment to Teyvat as a whole.
(You meet your new friend not even three minutes later when she trips over your prone form and drops all her herbs.)
You awkwardly stare at Qiqi, who stares back at you with a mildly perplexed look.
"You... are not familiar," she says, tilting her head slightly as if she was a curious puppy. "But you seem nice."
"I'd hope I seem nice. You're the first person to not immediately try and kill me." You say, defensively.
You think she looks concerned, but reading her face is... well, difficult. Since she's an undead and all.
She offers a hand to you, and with her help, you get back on your feet.
"Thanks, Qiqi," you say, and then immediately have an 'oh shit' because she hasn't even fucking introduced herself.
"Have we met?" She asks.
"Nope. You're just famous where I'm from," you hastily explain. "Lots of people like you and want to be your friend."
She seems to consider it, but about halfway through she forgets and stops caring.
"Do you want me to help you pick up your herbs?" You offer.
She nods.
Qiqi delicately retrieves the various plants that were in her basket, and you point out any she misses.
"Are you from Liyue?"
"No, I'm just passing through."
"...ah."
You have a sudden alarm ringing in the back of your head and hit the grass, grabbing Qiqi and yanking her down with you.
You give her a small smile. She smiles back and then seems surprised she can. Then her smile widens slightly as she smiles for the sake of smiling, too.
"I like you," she says simply, with all the confidence of a child zombie. "Would you like to be friends?"
"I'd like that." You say genuinely. "I don't have a lot of those here."
"Then we're friends," Qiqi says with all seriousness before pulling out a notebook. "I will write your name down so I always remember you are my friend."
An arrow covered in icy mist whizzes just barely over your head and explodes several yards away, freezing a large circle of grass.
"Fuck!" You hiss, looking up to see Ganyu in the distance.
The look on her face is nothing short of barely concealed hatred. Her face is nearly expressionless, but there's open aggression and hostility in her eyes.
If looks could kill, you'd be a smoking crater.
"Go, Qiqi," you urge gently, nudging the jiangshi in the back.
She may be a zombie child, but she is no fool, very clearly understanding what's about to occur.
She quickly makes herself scarce.
As soon as she's out of the way, your gift spins to life, and your hands crackle with arcs of electro.
Ganyu lets another arrow fly.
You launch towards her, the world slowing to a crawl as you accelerate, her arrow sluggishly spiraling by you.
Right as you're about to be in range with a weapon, she... disengages.
Leaving behind a fucking ice lotus.
A wash of pure cold carves into you, sapping your body heat and leaving you winded.
You manage to roll away from the lotus, but her next arrow gouges into your thigh. You cry out in pain, indigo blood oozing down your leg and staining your pants.
You slam into her shoulder-first with the aid of your gift, the two of you crashing into the dirt and grass with a brutal force that leaves Ganyu wheezing.
Her hands come up to grab your throat, her grip like iron and tighter than a vice.
You briefly claw at her wrists, but the edges of your vision are beginning to darken.
You reach out, grab a horn, and yank.
Snap.
Ganyu wails. Her hands instantly move from your throat as she scrambles back, clutching the bleeding stump of her left horn in one hand. She isn't even paying attention to you anymore, lost in the agony.
You gasp for breath, taking in deep lungfuls of air.
Ganyu doesn't move to re-engage. She seems to be having difficulty staying conscious.
When she stands, her legs are shaking, and her attempt to move in your direction ends with her toppling over.
It's likely her horns have nerves, given their nearness to her human brain, and who knows what kind of function they serve? Do they help her sense which way is upright or help her orientate her body?
Whatever the case, she's down by half and now struggling to keep her balance.
You pretend to throw the horn at her as a distraction tactic, and she scrambles for it, not quite realizing you never let it go.
You flee, the arrow still in your leg and sending bolts of searing agony through you, the Quilin horn clutched tight in your hand.
(You fall asleep beneath a tree, which begins to grow rapidly due to the blood oozing from your now-healed wounds. An Archon approaches your unconscious form.)
When you wake, it's to jeering. You're... on a boat near the Guyun Stone Forest. There's a crowd watching you from the docks and shorelines, spitting insults and calling for your death sentence to be hastened. You can only faintly hear them.
Your limbs are bound in heavy chain and weighted with dense iron locks.
Zhongli glares at you like you're nothing more than a particularly vile insect.
Ganyu keeps fidgeting with the band of gold holding her horn in place now. She seems unsteady on her feet, especially on this boat. She watches you with something between hostility and fear.
Ningguang snarls at you for a moment with raw hatred when you make eye contact, but she swiftly schools her expression into an icy glare.
Keqing doesn't bother to look at you.
Zhongli must not like the look you give them because he steps forward and backhands you so hard you pull something in your neck and lose a tooth.
How dare they do this to you?
Your lip is busted and throbbing with pain. You, in a fit of spite, spit your blood onto his boot.
You're swiftly tossed into the sea and immediately begin to drown.
Before the darkness can claim you, several stone spears pierce your torso and limbs and make you sink to the seafloor as if the stone was lead instead.
You are so very cold.
(The sea goes as still and flat as a sheet of glass.)
Your eyes open in the lightless depths of the ocean.
Before you lies an ancient, imprisoned serpent - Osial, the Overlord of the Vortex.
You lay next to one of his heads. A single massive eye is trained on you.
"...my creator?" He asks, hesitant. "Why - no, how - are you down here?"
"Morax."
His eyes narrow in anger. "Wretched lizard. Had I my freedom, I would skin him alive and offer his carcass as tribute to you."
You breathe out a sigh through the gills you didn't have before.
"I wouldn't stop you at this point." You murmur bitterly.
(You and Osial lay there in the darkness of the sea together, side by side, prisoners of the same Archon.)
((Taglist:
@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead @call-me-shroom @evqnescents @valeriele3 @mochicurls21
Gnaw (4)
You stand at the precipice of Liyue. The land of Geo. The resting place of a corpse-god, the dragon Rex Lapis, and the home of Archon Zhongli.
Though some part of you hopes that they'll be less hostile, you can't help but feel that Liyue will simply be more of the same.
More suffering. More death.
But now you have a gift. A way to protect yourself. The symbol of one of your loyal creations, and a font of power from which to draw destructive energy. You are not alone. And you will not fall so easily.
You step through a boundary, a line between the nations, and the world changes. Suddenly, the sky does not feel so vast. The air feels thinner, and the ground beneath your feet feels... denser. More present. As though the soil and stone of Mondstadt was gravel.
You take a few moments to breathe, to aquaint yourself with lungs that go unaided by Anemo, and begin walking.
Somewhere in the distance lies the Stone Gate. You decide to avoid it and the people of Liyue as best you can.
You decide to experiment with the abilities you now have so you can defend yourself if need be.
First, you should probably learn to sense them, starting at the symbol upon your wrist.
After a minute of concentration, you feel the faintest twitch of static in your veins. The subtle hum of energy that now calls you home.
You move the energy sluggishly, slowly convincing it to travel along your veins, and it proceeds to gain speed.
By the end of your first hour of 'training', there is a storm in your chest, your heart pounding thunder down your ribs, your blood singing with voltaic power.
It feels good.
You are unaware that special organs are rapidly growing in your dermis and flesh to allow you to conduct electrical energy safely.
You are unaware of the way billions of neurons are rearranging themselves to make your use of this power instinctive.
You are unaware of the way your entire nervous system is editing itself, allowing you to pump your body full of electro energy without a cost to your health.
You are unaware that you could now shrug off chewing on a power plant generator's active primary circuit or that you would register lightning as nothing more than a mild annoyance.
What you are aware of is the ball of lightning hovering over your hand. You grin, victorious.
(Electro watches from their throne at the peak of existence, smug smile on their face.)
Your doppelgƤnger howls in agony as they carve a spiral into the space between their shoulderblades with a blade that oozes molten gold.
They cannot allow themselves to be discovered as a false God. To be revealed now would be a waste of all their work.
To lose the luxuries they rightfully deserve is so horrible a fate that they'd rather maim themselves to keep up the illusion.
Soon, their acolytes will arrive.
They command that their 'imposter' shall be killed on sight.
Five Archons obey.
(They do not notice the way their Gnosis begin to dim.)
You spend two weeks slowly navigating the terrain of Liyue and exploring your new abilities.
You've learned to weave the energy into your limbs to vastly speed them up. You've learned to push that energy into your nails and teeth, turning them into vicious claws and fangs.
You've learned to push the energy into your brain to increase your reaction time and slow the world around you to a crawl.
Days of travel are collapsed into mere hours as you become a purple-streaked blur that rushes across the terrain fast enough to run up cliff faces and across water.
...you've also had countless bloody noses and scraped limbs, gotten enough dirt in your mouth to fill a flowerpot, choked on a multitude of flying bugs, and nearly drowned trying to water-walk.
Fruit and vegetables are bountiful, but you can't quite shake the urge to find some new small creature and bite down into it and fill your mouth with delicious red-
No. You are better than your urges. You are a person, not an animal, no matter how tempting the idea is.
Unfortunately this peace does not last.
You run across a small patrol of Millelith members, each bearing a weapon of some sort.
"Fuck," you hiss, ducking into the treeline to hopefully avoid being found. It's too late.
One of them cries out in alarm, and the entire group is instantly alerted to your presence.
You learn from the orders their leader is barking that you are now to be slain on sight.
Spears are leveled in your direction, arrows are nocked and readied, clubs and greatswords rise.
You easily avoid the arrows, your body humming with electro energy, and the first to swing their blade at you is met with a spear of lightning through the brain, their body writhing violently at the end.
You dispel the spear and dodge a mace, giving the woman bearing it a blast of electrical energy straight to the face, turning her head to ash and instantly killing her.
An arrow slices your side as you toss the headless body away from you, and the wound immediately begins to sizzle as it mends in a golden scar.
You reach into the head of the archer from a distance and send a jolt of power into his brain, flash-frying nerves and swiftly ending his life.
You don't remember ever being as clumsy and slow as they are before you had Electro. Are humans this pathetic, or are the Millelith just awful?
Five more stand in your way.
You gather the charge within your gift and send it out as a bolt of raw electro energy.
The leader is hit, but does not die. They are instead surrounded by a potent magnetic field. The metal of their armor and the metal of their squadmates attract to each other, and they're slammed together.
The five of them struggle to part themselves, pathetically squirming in place. You put them out of their misery to save them the embarrassment.
As soon as that's done, the gravity of your actions hits you. You just killed eight people.
You're horrified - but they were going to kill you first, weren't they?
Should you feel horrified for defending yourself from people who wanted you dead?
...should you feel anything for these people? Some part of you still desperately clings to the idea that this is all some fucked-up dream or a game.
It ceases to matter when elemental energy erupts right in front of you, and Kequing lunges out of a teleport to cleanly slice off your head.
As your vision begins to blacken, and the world drifts away, you watch your headless body stagger backward a few steps and then drop.
"Maybe next time," you mutter without sound, as the darkness swallows you.
Deep purple blood oozes from the stump of your neck as every trace of your corpse disintegrates.
("I will put you back together, my maker," whispers the Abyss. "I will always put you back together.")
((Taglist:
@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead
Gnaw (interlude one: electro)
"It's been such a long time since we've had a little chat, my maker." Electro says, having at some point gone from 'taking your hand and awkwardly not letting go' to 'holding your hand as firmly as possible without hurting you'. "Longer still since I've felt your touch. Apologies if this makes you uncomfortable, I just really missed you."
You ask what it is that makes them presume you are their maker.
"Ah. Right. You kinda locked those memories away, didn't you? You decided to have a nice little vacation in some lame low-future setting. Let's just say for the sake of entertaining your delusions that you're hypothetically our creator."
You ask why they're just now coming into contact with you instead of earlier. Why they didn't prevent your deaths, if you're hypothetically their 'creator'.
"Perhaps this will be painful for you to hear, but until now, none of us could physically come to your aid. Myself and the others are the elements of this world, and with that much power comes a certain risk to your body.
Had I come to your aid, you'd have been vaporized by the sheer amount of energy that you could easily wield before."
They give a small, awkward bow, letting go of your hand.
"To be quite clear: I am Electro. First to fall at your command, and the one who sits at your right side. Your... right hand, if you will. Your agent of change on the face of Teyvat... and your executioner."
You ask what exactly led you to need an executioner, even if you hypothetically believe you, of all people, made Teyvat.
They give you an awkward smile as the two of you begin to travel down a small path up from the beach.
"Other creations from other worlds. Heretics, dissenters, and the occasional rebellious project here. They were rarely powerful, so it took me little time to mop them up."
Other worlds? You had them kill people from other realities?
"My maker, you had me erase realities." They grin much more honestly, the symbol replacing their pupils spinning slowly for a moment. "And I thank you for that opportunity. There's just something special about unwinding another existence and watching your less favored creations cease to be."
You're horrified by this, and nearly trip. By your orders, entire universes were erased... but why?
"Usually, they sought to construct an equal to you. Something they could use to harness your power without your guidance. The power-mad, those that saw you as an uncaring divine, those who sought to take your place..." Electro purrs, their incisors less like human teeth and more like fangs. "There was always room at the end of my blade for every single one of your lost little lambs."
You ask if you made them so bloodthirsty. So... cruel. Or if you'd done something to make them like that.
They laugh, moving in front of you to walk backwards and face you.
"Ah, you're such a delight, my maker. No, no, you aren't to blame for what I am. When each of us was 'born', you allowed us each control of who we were. You even gave us little worlds to live a formatory life on.
My world was a simple one, but one that you enjoyed - you based your vacation world on my homeworld, actually, which was super kind of you - and I grew up with a loving, healthy family. A sister and two dads. Nice people, good morals, never really wanting for anything.
It was all I ever knew, then, and it was fucking boring.
I didn't want a long, dull life with responsibilities and a spouse and 2.5 children, or some middle management position I'd wither away my not-quite-century of life tending to.
I gladly indulged myself in the world's pleasures where I could get them. I'm sure you can understand what I mean. And nothing was ever enough. There was just... something I was missing."
For a moment, you say nothing, instead focusing on navigating around a rather annoying hole in the dirt path. They've returned to walking at your side.
You ask what was missing from what already seemed like a very good life.
"Choice. The ability to say 'I am me, fuck the rules, fuck what everyone else thinks.' I fought to see what I wanted to see, to tear down what I hated, to uplift what I loved. Rules meant nothing if they weren't mine. Law meant nothing when someone else made them. The only one who owned me was me... and you."
"Once I died, and you collected my essence for use, I was given my pick of the elements. I suppose that's what happens when you die at barely 30."
You ask what it was that inspired them to be Electro, and not Pyro or Anemo.
"Simple. Lightning doesn't stay in line. It falls, and it's bright enough to leave a mark on a dull world that's just going about the motions. It makes others take notice. It says 'look at me! See what I choose to be!'
How could I be anything else, when instead I could be me without regrets?
Why would I choose to narrow myself to anything else?"
You ask what they think of the Raiden Shogun. They frown, reaching out to pick a berry from a bush and toss it to you. You pop it into your mouth gratefully.
"Ei is a disappointing Archon. Just... following in a corpse's footsteps. Barely living a life. One day she'll get tired of sealing herself up in a dumb little bubble and letting a doll play house with her people.
I can't really complain, though. She chose that, and all I want is my bearers to choose something and to hopefully enjoy it."
You ask who would be an ideal Archon to them. They shrug, kicking a stone into a small stream as you two finish crossing it.
"Honestly? Don't want one anymore. I liked Makoto because she wanted to do something fucking crazy, and was going to raise hell until she made it happen. That really spoke to me, y'know?
But she's gone, and that's fine. Shit happens, and she knew it was a possibility.
I'd rather keep doing what I'm doing and give Visions to whoever I think would be fun to watch."
You two walk in silence for a while, and then you ask just where it is you're heading, now that you've noted the way the cliffs are growing steeper and the vegetation has changed.
"Liyue. S'nice. Wish it wasn't Geo's turf, fuck'em, but if we're lucky you'll be in good hands with their people. About all I can really compliment them on."
You ask if they can stay at your side and hopefully protect you from... zealous worshippers.
They laugh.
"Hahahaha, hahaha, haha, heh, no." They suddenly deadpan, entirely serious, and stop in place. "You'd probably die. It's a terrible idea for me to protect you when you're so... squishy."
You ask for something to defend yourself with, then, if they're going to be unavailable.
They grin.
"Oh, that's easy. I got you."
They grab your wrist, and you hiss in pain as electricity courses up your left arm. There is now an Electro symbol on your inner wrist, your skin there dyed a royal purple.
"That's the sort of master key to Electro. Electro energy will come to you when you call for it, and since you're you it'll shape itself into a form you like."
They lean in to stage-whisper conspiratorially. "My favorite is a lightning bolt, because hitting someone from halfway across the room with a blast of pure 'fuck you' is always a good time, but I've seen some promising animal shapes and even a couple neat weapons."
They notice something in the distance and grimace faintly after a few moments more of walking.
"We're almost to the border between Mondstadt and Liyue. If you see Geo, tell them they still owe me for all the Electro Crystals."
You ask what that means.
Instead of answering, Electro makes a peace sign in your direction and then vanishes in a sudden crackle of static and the smell of ozone, leaving you on a road. You didn't realize you'd actually been walking alongside them all this way in the real world.
You'd thought it was all sort of a daydream. The mark on your inner wrist says otherwise.
At least you've made it this far?
((Taglist:
(Wow. There's so many of you now.
@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415
@reversearrowhead
Gnaw (3)
(Warnings: Blood, Violence, Body Horror)
When you wake, you are starving. It feels like someone's torn out your stomach and left a yawning cavern inside of you that threatens to make you collapse in on yourself in a desperate attempt to fill the void.
You cannot think through the sheer ravenousness of this hunger. Morals and principles have dissolved under the infinite maw within that threatens to consume you.
You stand shakily, eyes darting around as you search for even the faintest hint to the location of nearby food.
And then you see it. The most beautiful thing you've ever laid eyes on.
A sparrow.
Your mouth begins to water at the thought of meat. Pork, beef, fowl, venison, mutton? It's food.
You creep towards it, vision already tunneling, and prepare to lunge. In a burst of movement, you blitz towards the unaware bird and your hand clamps down on it like a vice.
It is at this point that another, more sane person would kill the animal and dress it for cooking. You are not that person right now.
You stuff the bird into your mouth and begin to chew. You don't particularly give a shit if it's alive right now, you're starving.
You bravely ignore the way it sounds like the world's most morbid popcorn.
Blood hits your tongue. It's the most brilliant thing you've ever tasted. There is no tang of iron or bitterness. There is just warmth that flows through your veins like a wildfire inside you.
If anything, you feel a little high.
Perhaps, in another time, the thought of consuming another living being might have turned your stomach. Maybe you'd sworn off meats at all in favor of something less cruel.
You aren't at the pilot seat right now. There is an animal there, sating the most primal urge in existence - to live.
For a moment, though, let's step away from your perspective, and instead talk about what's happening to you.
From the moment you came to Teyvat, dormant bits of your biology have been returning to function now that there is elemental energy to sustain them.
Those parts will rewrite your genetic code to restore you to godhood.
Right now, however, you are in a rather malleable state - not quite human anymore, but not quite divine.
Luckily for you, there are options other than waiting.
Everything on this planet has a trace of what you were in it. Every being, every plant, every animal, every stone, and every speck of dust has an itty bitty bit of you in the form of elemental energy. And you can reclaim it.
By dying, you've been taking back the energy from the strikes used to end you.
By eating, you absorb the elemental energy inside the food.
You, much like the allogenes, have some limits to break, each step bringing you closer to the next 'star'.
You've just reached the first one. Congratulations.
All of a sudden, you feel like, well, a new person. It's as though you've woken up from the aftereffects of a really shitty nap and banished the grogginess.
You are awake in a way you weren't, and suddenly, the world just feels sharper.
(In a separate dimension, the elements of Teyvat cheer. You're one step closer to taking this place back from your poor imitation.)
Unbeknownst to you, attacking you has had consequences for Mondstadt.
Their wine is vinegar now. It's as if someone's mixed every last drop of booze with lots and lots of fresh air.
Oops.
Beer? Gone. That's just trash now. Oxidation wrecks the flavor in that, too.
Stored meat has been rotting, plants are wilting on the vine, animals birth nothing. The clouds have parted, and a miserably hot sun has decided to cheerily bake the faces of every single human being in Mondstadt.
The winds do not blow. There is no breeze.
(The only person not feeling like they've stepped into an oven is Eula, who is beginning to suffer the effects of hypothermia.
She killed you, and now Cryo is going to punish her by not regulating the energy they push into her Vision. She will slowly freeze to death and feel every cell of her body dying from cold unless she grovels at your feet.
Cryo - an ancient, inhuman element as old as this universe - thinks this is a rather lenient punishment and not an excruciating torture. You will likely need to teach them otherwise when you reclaim your throne.)
Prayers in Mondstadt have doubled and maybe even tripled. Sacrifices of food can't be given, so instead, they're offering Mora. Piles and piles of coins now give your shrines a stately golden glow under the light of the vicious sun.
For the first time in centuries, Venti takes to his knees and prays.
You are not there to hear their begging for clemency.
And as a god, you never particularly thought you'd need an answering machine, so it's not like the prayers get saved.
(This is the first time since your creation of Teyvat that the elements have put their squabbles aside and the first time they've worked together to make a group of people absolutely miserable, and honestly? They're having a great time.)
You've been running around this beach for a while, laughing happily as you enjoy your newfound strength and stamina.
You can skip a rock fifteen times before it sinks. That's pretty dope. You didn't even know you got the technique down so perfectly until now.
A strange pressure builds in your head and you begin to have a vision. Not the kind you wear on your person, and grants you elemental powers - the kind where you have an out-of-body experience and See Some Shit.
Before you stands a tall, androgynous figure. They're dressed in comfy clothes that lack any regional indicator of origin. If anything, the style reminds you of clothing from Earth.
Hell, they just look like someone that probably would have belonged to your old world. The reason you know who they are is their eyes and the symbol where a pupil would normally be.
They give you a crooked grin, face brightening just a tiny bit as they offer a hand to shake.
"Hello again, Great Maelstrom. I think it's time you and I reconnected, hm?"
((Taglist of lovely people:
@the-dumber-scaramouche
@thatdeadaquarius
@ssak-i
@imyme20
@fried-lotud
@acacla
@itz-luna
@iruiji
@crierofirony
@itsredactedlove
@sweetsthetik
@leafanonsforest
@kkazuyass
@featuredtofu
@oxyotl (whose name I misspelled in my taglist notes as 'oxylotl', like some kind of oxygen axolotl)
Apologies to @galaxy-batsy-world, it refuses to let me tag you. Do you have a different @?))
Gnaw (2)
(Warnings: same as the previous chapter, found here.)
One of the largest issues with going from a simulated Teyvat to an actualized Teyvat is the sheer size.
The bridge outside of Mondstadt, which takes the Traveler like fifteen seconds to cross in a sprint? That's a good two minutes of walking at the least.
The rest of Mondstadt is massive, too, of course, but it's absolutely gorgeous. Perfect grass, clear rivers and ponds, rather imposing cliffs...
Maybe the people are a little unfriendly, but hey! The land itself makes up for your now-in-the-negatives social life.
Besides, this much air and sunlight are probably a good thing. You aren't too hot, there isn't like half of a forest worth of pollen up your nose, the breeze is really nice, and nobody's come to try and maul you!
As far as sightseeing tours go, this ain't the best. But it'll do.
Plus, you're pretty sure that the theoretical tour guide probably wouldn't let you pull up all the dandelions you wanted and blow on them to make their seeds go everywhere.
There's a faint gnaw in the pit of your stomach. You've eaten some berries, a carrot you found in a crate, and another Sunsettia, but you just can't shake the feeling.
The best way your mind can think to describe it is that your teeth are dissatisfied. You didn't do enough with this meal. It just sorta happened.
Perhaps you're going insane.
(On a distant cliff, the wind brings your breathing to an Archon, who sets down his lyre and raises a bow.)
There is a faint whistle on the air, one you swear you've heard before. Then it hits you - the sound of an arrow!
By some instinct, you hurl yourself aside, slamming into the grass and dirt.
A brilliant arrow is lodged into the ground at an angle that would have firmly made itself at home in the back of your skull. Had you not just launched yourself aside, you would be dead.
And then you hear another whistle.
You scramble up onto your feet and take off in a dead sprint. Anemo-powered arrows narrowly miss you four times as you zig-zag and duck behind stones or trees.
...you think you know who this is, or at least have a damn good idea.
Venti. Barbatos. Tone-deaf bard. Alcoholic lyre dude. That one.
You curse him out under your breath. The arrows seem to be coming faster all of a sudden.
The next arrow doesn't come down with a whistle. It comes down with a scream. The Anemo-charged arrow, cloaked in a blade of wind, pierces your back and launches you through the woodlands with enough force to demolish trees like matchsticks.
You skid to a stop, a fine path of devastation and upturned soil behind you, and your head lolls up on a shattered neck to stare blankly into the sky as you slip away into darkness.
(Dendro hisses at the other elements, their vast roots curling in anger. "We should have kept them out until this was solved!"
The others say nothing. Talking will do little to protect you, and those who raise their hands against you must be punished.)
Barbatos has a nightmare that night, after killing the one who stole the face of the World-Shaper.
He has been torn from his false face, cast into the heart of a vast hurricane, the wind itself screaming in hatred and rage, every whisper now purely poisonous. Every failure mocked, every mistake repeatedly shoved into his face, and every sin accounted for.
The wind wails, slipstreams like claws raking across his elemental flesh, battering him as he's tossed from gust of wind to gust of wind.
(He is unaware that to any observer, it would look like he was a rather hated captive ball in the world's most esoteric pinball machine.)
A voice tears itself from the monstrous storm around him, echoing in the bone-shuddering blasts of thunder.
Vile little wisp! You would dare to raise a hand against the divine most holy, our maker?!
He doesn't understand, and any chance he'd have to think or speak is repeatedly knocked from his head as he crashes into walls of wind firm enough to be stone.
Immense pressure crushes down around him, stalling him in place as if grasped in the enormous hand of a titan, and he cries out at it squeezes.
He looks up as he tries in vain to wriggle and flee, and he sees. Every part of him freezes in horror.
I am Anemo. The embodiment of sky, of breath. I am the Taker of Voices.
He is brought closer to the core of light at the center of the apocalyptic current.
I had such hope for you. A God of Freedom, one who would see the oppressed liberated from their miseries! One who would cast the sadness and hatred from his people to the winds, where they would be forgotten!
One who would spread the laughter of the First Breath to all corners of this world.
One who would be their protector, hearing misfortune on the winds and striking down those who would spell disaster for us all with the wrath of a great storm.
But you have failed. You have taken up arms against the one you were made to cherish with hatred in your heart.
You have forgotten your own freedom. The freedom to think for yourself, to act without orders. To go against what is known down a new path.
He cries out as some kind of tether is cut from his body, ripped away into the vortex.
You are my Archon no more. I shall find one more suitable to the task.
Perhaps in time, the Maker will find you pitiable enough to reinstate you as my envoy to Teyvat.
Enjoy your freedom, Venti of Mondstadt.
He plummets, the wind abandoning him entirely. The ground opens, a ravenous maw, stones and bedrock ground down like sharp fangs, and he falls into a lightless darkness.
He wakes, screaming and sobbing in equal measure.
He cannot feel the wind. He cannot hear it.
At his side, the light of the false Vision gutters out, dimming until not even a spark of Anemo remains within.
(Within a frozen palace, the light of the Anemo Gnosis dulls, waiting for a host to be chosen anew.)
consciousness returns to you in bits and pieces, your entire body an immense ache. Your joints are so sore you can barely move them without feeling the urge to weep.
Your nose is filled with the scent of the ocean. You can hear waves, and ever so faintly, the calls of birds. You feel safer here, somehow, as though this place is devoid of other intelligent beings.
Your eyes close again, body exhausted and unable to resist the siren call of unconsciousness in a space without threats.
On your back is a new scar, a spiral of gold starting between your shoulderblades and reaching out towards your ribs.
(Gnaw Taglist:
@the-dumber-scaramouche @iruiji @itz-luna @itsredactedlove @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @crierofirony
Thank you all very much for your interest.)
Gnaw (part 1)
Contains: Body Horror, Blood, Violence
You had fallen to Teyvat some time ago, pulled down from the sky by a brilliant platinum star, the elements gently beckoning for you, all of them trying to prove their land the most suitable for your descent.
"Welcome back, Sea-shaper," Hydro murmurs, their voice the babbling of streams and the roar of the angry sea all at once. "Fontaine has such sights to show you. As you created, we have created to honor your actions. For your beauty, we have made our people beautiful. You will want for nothing-"
"COME TO US, HOLY TINDER," Pyro roars, its voice the starving crackle of flame and the churning of molten rock as volcanoes erupt. "NATLAN AWAITS YOU WITH AN OFFERING OF ENDLESS PASSION. YOU SHALL NEVER GO UNPROTECTED, UNLOVED, OR HUNGRY."
"Welcome, almighty Whirlwind of Creation," Electro purrs, speaking with the rattle-boom of echoing thunder. "Shall you grace my people with your presence?"
"Welcome home, Blessed Foundation," Geo hums, their voice the whispers of sand and the ancient growl of tectonic plates shifting. "Liyue has grown prosperous since you've last seen it. Perhaps you should come to us instead, where the riches of Teyvat could be put directly to use in pleasing you?"
"Don't listen to them, First Breath! We've waited for you the longest, like, a whole forever! We were first!" Anemo pleads, in the tones of breeze softly rustling leaves and howling tornadoes. "Even if you just stop by, that's totally fine!"
"You've finally come home, Heart of Winter? Good. We have missed you so." Cryo coos, the flurrying of snow and ancient creaking of glaciers their voice. "Snezhnaya may be a harsh land, but faith is enough to warm the bodies of my people."
"Flower of Irminsul, Root of All, please! You cannot come down! Another wears your face, please turn back if only for a few more days!" Dendro howls, desperate, voice a cacophony of falling trees and leaves rustling. "You ar-"
Dendro's voice fades as you pass the point of no return and begin to burn through the sky towards Mondstadt, Anemo ripping at the air to direct your course even as the other elements rage at them for their impudence.
As you fall, the memory of this conversation fades from your mind.
Welcome home, Maker, whispers the Abyss into the back of your mind.
Since that day, your time in Teyvat had become quite difficult. Whatever hopes you'd had for this world were soundly dashed.
Mondstadt 'welcomed' you with scorn and hostility for sharing the same face as their Heiliger Schƶpfer, the Divine above Divines.
You were unsure as to why they hated you so, simply for your face- especially since that face is one that's otherwise looked kindly upon in this world.
You do your best to take in the sights, all the same. Though you are confused by the frosty reception, this place is so much more interesting than the game shows.
There are many more homes and people, you see (and pet) some stray animals, pick a particularly low philanemo mushroom after a couple seconds of jumping and stretching in an attempt to reach it, and generally just enjoy the (rather tense) locale.
Your confusion became fear when the Knights of Favonius begin to chase you. You'd done no crime, why would they hunt you like this, especially with such wrathful looks on their faces?!
The closest you get to meeting any of the allogenes on friendly terms comes when you breeze past Sucrose, yelping out a greeting to her. She just watches you go, incredibly confused, before a Knight accidentally bowls her over in his maddened rush after you.
Just as you exit the gate, the Knights just behind you, yelling curses and what you presume are threats-
P a i n.
Eula Lawrence just pushed a greatsword through your lungs and out your back. You have no clue how she got here so fast, where from, or how you didn't notice her.
You gag and choke as your blood quickly rushes into the space (and out of your body, simultaneously).
With a vicious yank, she tears it from you in a diagonal motion, nearly carving you in half.
A darkly satisfied look in her eyes is all you receive when you uselessly try to gasp for air and plead for help.
Your vision begins to fade, but before you can die of blood loss her boot comes down.
(Your nascent godhood activates the moment you die, and it plots a new trajectory: your misery will shape you until such a time comes that you will never feel this suffering again.)
You wake screaming in the woods, hands coming to clutch at your chest.
A massive golden scar lies just between your xiphoid process and sternum, perfectly horizontal in a way that only comes with practice.
Your clothes are covered in the brownish rusty red of old dried blood, and quite badly torn from where you were sliced nearly in two.
Breathing feels... easier, somehow. Like your lungs didn't just heal from immense trauma.
Your stomach aches badly and your mouth feels like it's full of sand. How long have you been laying here beneath the sun?
Your attempts to rise from this resting place are fruitless. You're so exhausted you can barely move your fingers.
Darkness slowly weighs your eyelids down and you fall asleep, even though you know you should not.
---
Elsewhere in the world, a being wearing your face stares up at a statue to themselves, noting with some alarm the golden scar across its chest.
The only recent news they had about an imposter was the Lawrence outcast running one through.
Now they'll have to find some way to replicate your scar and keep up the ruse.
"The original has truly descended, then... fine." They hiss, words venomous, glaring at the face of the statue. "If I can't have this place as my playground, then they won't get to have you."
---
The next time you wake, it is night, and the hunger in your belly is gnawing at you with such fervor that you feel lightheaded.
When you stand, your head twinges with pain as if to protest even this miniscule expenditure of energy.
Your body stumbles at first, briefly overcome by vertigo, but quickly adjusts.
Your mind changes its tune completely upon seeing a plump, ripe Sunsettia growing on its branch.
You desperately scramble over to pull the Sunsettia from the tree- only for it to drop into your waiting hands as soon as you reach up.
The 'how' of this doesn't quite matter to you in the moment. You bite into the ripe fruit and moan in bliss at the tart taste of the flesh and the sweetness of the juices. Within twenty seconds, you've reduced this fruit to a nubby pit, almost like a peach has.
That's kinda neat, actually. You distantly wonder what you have to crossbreed with a peach to make Sunsettias.
You pat the tree as if to thank it, not noticing that it suddenly stands a bit straighter or how its leaves are just a tiny bit greener, and go to find a nice place to put down this future Sunsettia tree.
You eventually get bored of looking for a good place and just poke a hole into the ground with a fallen branch, then stuff the remains of your first Sunsettia into the hole.
You wander off into the woods in hopes of finding a road, unaware of the golden-leaved sapling slowly growing behind you.
With a new source of energy in your system, you feel the urge to get moving- might as well make the most of this while you have it.
Your stamina is better than before, it feels like. Distances that previously felt difficult feel easier on your legs- and definitely on your lungs.
Perhaps this has something to do with your demise?
...what's that weird whistling soun-
You fall, dead, an Anemo-enriched arrow punching through the back of your head.
For a brief moment, you dream of a place deep beneath the surface of Teyvat, and a ruined statue oozing corruption into infinite darkness.
You wake with a small headache, very hungry, and more than a little pissed. Won't people just leave you the fuck alone?
Somehow, you feel sturdier. Less breakable. As nice as that is, you don't particularly feel up to testing it.
You stand.
Perhaps you should avoid civilization from now on.
Gnaw (2)
(Warnings: same as the previous chapter, found here.)
One of the largest issues with going from a simulated Teyvat to an actualized Teyvat is the sheer size.
The bridge outside of Mondstadt, which takes the Traveler like fifteen seconds to cross in a sprint? That's a good two minutes of walking at the least.
The rest of Mondstadt is massive, too, of course, but it's absolutely gorgeous. Perfect grass, clear rivers and ponds, rather imposing cliffs...
Maybe the people are a little unfriendly, but hey! The land itself makes up for your now-in-the-negatives social life.
Besides, this much air and sunlight are probably a good thing. You aren't too hot, there isn't like half of a forest worth of pollen up your nose, the breeze is really nice, and nobody's come to try and maul you!
As far as sightseeing tours go, this ain't the best. But it'll do.
Plus, you're pretty sure that the theoretical tour guide probably wouldn't let you pull up all the dandelions you wanted and blow on them to make their seeds go everywhere.
There's a faint gnaw in the pit of your stomach. You've eaten some berries, a carrot you found in a crate, and another Sunsettia, but you just can't shake the feeling.
The best way your mind can think to describe it is that your teeth are dissatisfied. You didn't do enough with this meal. It just sorta happened.
Perhaps you're going insane.
(On a distant cliff, the wind brings your breathing to an Archon, who sets down his lyre and raises a bow.)
There is a faint whistle on the air, one you swear you've heard before. Then it hits you - the sound of an arrow!
By some instinct, you hurl yourself aside, slamming into the grass and dirt.
A brilliant arrow is lodged into the ground at an angle that would have firmly made itself at home in the back of your skull. Had you not just launched yourself aside, you would be dead.
And then you hear another whistle.
You scramble up onto your feet and take off in a dead sprint. Anemo-powered arrows narrowly miss you four times as you zig-zag and duck behind stones or trees.
...you think you know who this is, or at least have a damn good idea.
Venti. Barbatos. Tone-deaf bard. Alcoholic lyre dude. That one.
You curse him out under your breath. The arrows seem to be coming faster all of a sudden.
The next arrow doesn't come down with a whistle. It comes down with a scream. The Anemo-charged arrow, cloaked in a blade of wind, pierces your back and launches you through the woodlands with enough force to demolish trees like matchsticks.
You skid to a stop, a fine path of devastation and upturned soil behind you, and your head lolls up on a shattered neck to stare blankly into the sky as you slip away into darkness.
(Dendro hisses at the other elements, their vast roots curling in anger. "We should have kept them out until this was solved!"
The others say nothing. Talking will do little to protect you, and those who raise their hands against you must be punished.)
Barbatos has a nightmare that night, after killing the one who stole the face of the World-Shaper.
He has been torn from his false face, cast into the heart of a vast hurricane, the wind itself screaming in hatred and rage, every whisper now purely poisonous. Every failure mocked, every mistake repeatedly shoved into his face, and every sin accounted for.
The wind wails, slipstreams like claws raking across his elemental flesh, battering him as he's tossed from gust of wind to gust of wind.
(He is unaware that to any observer, it would look like he was a rather hated captive ball in the world's most esoteric pinball machine.)
A voice tears itself from the monstrous storm around him, echoing in the bone-shuddering blasts of thunder.
Vile little wisp! You would dare to raise a hand against the divine most holy, our maker?!
He doesn't understand, and any chance he'd have to think or speak is repeatedly knocked from his head as he crashes into walls of wind firm enough to be stone.
Immense pressure crushes down around him, stalling him in place as if grasped in the enormous hand of a titan, and he cries out at it squeezes.
He looks up as he tries in vain to wriggle and flee, and he sees. Every part of him freezes in horror.
I am Anemo. The embodiment of sky, of breath. I am the Taker of Voices.
He is brought closer to the core of light at the center of the apocalyptic current.
I had such hope for you. A God of Freedom, one who would see the oppressed liberated from their miseries! One who would cast the sadness and hatred from his people to the winds, where they would be forgotten!
One who would spread the laughter of the First Breath to all corners of this world.
One who would be their protector, hearing misfortune on the winds and striking down those who would spell disaster for us all with the wrath of a great storm.
But you have failed. You have taken up arms against the one you were made to cherish with hatred in your heart.
You have forgotten your own freedom. The freedom to think for yourself, to act without orders. To go against what is known down a new path.
He cries out as some kind of tether is cut from his body, ripped away into the vortex.
You are my Archon no more. I shall find one more suitable to the task.
Perhaps in time, the Maker will find you pitiable enough to reinstate you as my envoy to Teyvat.
Enjoy your freedom, Venti of Mondstadt.
He plummets, the wind abandoning him entirely. The ground opens, a ravenous maw, stones and bedrock ground down like sharp fangs, and he falls into a lightless darkness.
He wakes, screaming and sobbing in equal measure.
He cannot feel the wind. He cannot hear it.
At his side, the light of the false Vision gutters out, dimming until not even a spark of Anemo remains within.
(Within a frozen palace, the light of the Anemo Gnosis dulls, waiting for a host to be chosen anew.)
consciousness returns to you in bits and pieces, your entire body an immense ache. Your joints are so sore you can barely move them without feeling the urge to weep.
Your nose is filled with the scent of the ocean. You can hear waves, and ever so faintly, the calls of birds. You feel safer here, somehow, as though this place is devoid of other intelligent beings.
Your eyes close again, body exhausted and unable to resist the siren call of unconsciousness in a space without threats.
On your back is a new scar, a spiral of gold starting between your shoulderblades and reaching out towards your ribs.
(Gnaw Taglist:
@the-dumber-scaramouche @iruiji @itz-luna @itsredactedlove @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @crierofirony
Thank you all very much for your interest.)
Gnaw (part 1)
Contains: Body Horror, Blood, Violence
You had fallen to Teyvat some time ago, pulled down from the sky by a brilliant platinum star, the elements gently beckoning for you, all of them trying to prove their land the most suitable for your descent.
"Welcome back, Sea-shaper," Hydro murmurs, their voice the babbling of streams and the roar of the angry sea all at once. "Fontaine has such sights to show you. As you created, we have created to honor your actions. For your beauty, we have made our people beautiful. You will want for nothing-"
"COME TO US, HOLY TINDER," Pyro roars, its voice the starving crackle of flame and the churning of molten rock as volcanoes erupt. "NATLAN AWAITS YOU WITH AN OFFERING OF ENDLESS PASSION. YOU SHALL NEVER GO UNPROTECTED, UNLOVED, OR HUNGRY."
"Welcome, almighty Whirlwind of Creation," Electro purrs, speaking with the rattle-boom of echoing thunder. "Shall you grace my people with your presence?"
"Welcome home, Blessed Foundation," Geo hums, their voice the whispers of sand and the ancient growl of tectonic plates shifting. "Liyue has grown prosperous since you've last seen it. Perhaps you should come to us instead, where the riches of Teyvat could be put directly to use in pleasing you?"
"Don't listen to them, First Breath! We've waited for you the longest, like, a whole forever! We were first!" Anemo pleads, in the tones of breeze softly rustling leaves and howling tornadoes. "Even if you just stop by, that's totally fine!"
"You've finally come home, Heart of Winter? Good. We have missed you so." Cryo coos, the flurrying of snow and ancient creaking of glaciers their voice. "Snezhnaya may be a harsh land, but faith is enough to warm the bodies of my people."
"Flower of Irminsul, Root of All, please! You cannot come down! Another wears your face, please turn back if only for a few more days!" Dendro howls, desperate, voice a cacophony of falling trees and leaves rustling. "You ar-"
Dendro's voice fades as you pass the point of no return and begin to burn through the sky towards Mondstadt, Anemo ripping at the air to direct your course even as the other elements rage at them for their impudence.
As you fall, the memory of this conversation fades from your mind.
Welcome home, Maker, whispers the Abyss into the back of your mind.
Since that day, your time in Teyvat had become quite difficult. Whatever hopes you'd had for this world were soundly dashed.
Mondstadt 'welcomed' you with scorn and hostility for sharing the same face as their Heiliger Schƶpfer, the Divine above Divines.
You were unsure as to why they hated you so, simply for your face- especially since that face is one that's otherwise looked kindly upon in this world.
You do your best to take in the sights, all the same. Though you are confused by the frosty reception, this place is so much more interesting than the game shows.
There are many more homes and people, you see (and pet) some stray animals, pick a particularly low philanemo mushroom after a couple seconds of jumping and stretching in an attempt to reach it, and generally just enjoy the (rather tense) locale.
Your confusion became fear when the Knights of Favonius begin to chase you. You'd done no crime, why would they hunt you like this, especially with such wrathful looks on their faces?!
The closest you get to meeting any of the allogenes on friendly terms comes when you breeze past Sucrose, yelping out a greeting to her. She just watches you go, incredibly confused, before a Knight accidentally bowls her over in his maddened rush after you.
Just as you exit the gate, the Knights just behind you, yelling curses and what you presume are threats-
P a i n.
Eula Lawrence just pushed a greatsword through your lungs and out your back. You have no clue how she got here so fast, where from, or how you didn't notice her.
You gag and choke as your blood quickly rushes into the space (and out of your body, simultaneously).
With a vicious yank, she tears it from you in a diagonal motion, nearly carving you in half.
A darkly satisfied look in her eyes is all you receive when you uselessly try to gasp for air and plead for help.
Your vision begins to fade, but before you can die of blood loss her boot comes down.
(Your nascent godhood activates the moment you die, and it plots a new trajectory: your misery will shape you until such a time comes that you will never feel this suffering again.)
You wake screaming in the woods, hands coming to clutch at your chest.
A massive golden scar lies just between your xiphoid process and sternum, perfectly horizontal in a way that only comes with practice.
Your clothes are covered in the brownish rusty red of old dried blood, and quite badly torn from where you were sliced nearly in two.
Breathing feels... easier, somehow. Like your lungs didn't just heal from immense trauma.
Your stomach aches badly and your mouth feels like it's full of sand. How long have you been laying here beneath the sun?
Your attempts to rise from this resting place are fruitless. You're so exhausted you can barely move your fingers.
Darkness slowly weighs your eyelids down and you fall asleep, even though you know you should not.
---
Elsewhere in the world, a being wearing your face stares up at a statue to themselves, noting with some alarm the golden scar across its chest.
The only recent news they had about an imposter was the Lawrence outcast running one through.
Now they'll have to find some way to replicate your scar and keep up the ruse.
"The original has truly descended, then... fine." They hiss, words venomous, glaring at the face of the statue. "If I can't have this place as my playground, then they won't get to have you."
---
The next time you wake, it is night, and the hunger in your belly is gnawing at you with such fervor that you feel lightheaded.
When you stand, your head twinges with pain as if to protest even this miniscule expenditure of energy.
Your body stumbles at first, briefly overcome by vertigo, but quickly adjusts.
Your mind changes its tune completely upon seeing a plump, ripe Sunsettia growing on its branch.
You desperately scramble over to pull the Sunsettia from the tree- only for it to drop into your waiting hands as soon as you reach up.
The 'how' of this doesn't quite matter to you in the moment. You bite into the ripe fruit and moan in bliss at the tart taste of the flesh and the sweetness of the juices. Within twenty seconds, you've reduced this fruit to a nubby pit, almost like a peach has.
That's kinda neat, actually. You distantly wonder what you have to crossbreed with a peach to make Sunsettias.
You pat the tree as if to thank it, not noticing that it suddenly stands a bit straighter or how its leaves are just a tiny bit greener, and go to find a nice place to put down this future Sunsettia tree.
You eventually get bored of looking for a good place and just poke a hole into the ground with a fallen branch, then stuff the remains of your first Sunsettia into the hole.
You wander off into the woods in hopes of finding a road, unaware of the golden-leaved sapling slowly growing behind you.
With a new source of energy in your system, you feel the urge to get moving- might as well make the most of this while you have it.
Your stamina is better than before, it feels like. Distances that previously felt difficult feel easier on your legs- and definitely on your lungs.
Perhaps this has something to do with your demise?
...what's that weird whistling soun-
You fall, dead, an Anemo-enriched arrow punching through the back of your head.
For a brief moment, you dream of a place deep beneath the surface of Teyvat, and a ruined statue oozing corruption into infinite darkness.
You wake with a small headache, very hungry, and more than a little pissed. Won't people just leave you the fuck alone?
Somehow, you feel sturdier. Less breakable. As nice as that is, you don't particularly feel up to testing it.
You stand.
Perhaps you should avoid civilization from now on.
dead leaves
summary: the creator is meant to be worshipped and praised, exalted to the highest of high. soā¦ what went wrong?
word count: 1.2k
-> warnings: mentions of blood, you die multiple times, bitter(?) ending, spoilers for xiao lore (but itās not said to be xiao specifically so technically you could read and just not know itās him but now that iāve said that you know itās him so-)
-> gn reader (you/yours)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me
< masterlist >
it wasnāt meant to happen like this.
it was never to occur at all, in fairness, but like this?
the clouds parted to make way for a single glitering star, shining a white hot gold. the whole world turned, stopped and stared in awe, every leaf on every stalk bearing witness to the one they called god.
it wasnāt supposed to be like this. the golden shine poured through the tall windows of a palace meant for you, the heretic in a crown ordering your people to betray you. their hands shook where their followers could not seeāperhaps even they were aware of why the trees were rejoicing.
you, blessed you, torn from your home by the divinity in your blood, picking yourself up from sand with barely a vague memory of your location. walk, climb, walk again, and thatās where you learned how to swim, led on by the crumbling stone of barbatosā statue. the squirrels chittered and the hilichurls retreated, not wanting to frighten you, bandaged hands seeking shields and clubs to keep busy instead.
mondstat is the nation of anemo. happy and bustling, merchants calling across courtyards, adventurers waking with the sun to continue their trade. a cool breeze welcomed you, tugging you along a stone bridge, the winds quiet.
so quiet, in fact, that the archon stirred from his slumber early, reaching for his bow.
you never even made it to the city gates. the doves on the bridge hopped closer as you approached, the knights on duty watching how eagerly they pressed themselves against you. a nod, a twist, a chain of knights leading up to the headquarters, all set on edge the moment the acting grandmaster cleared them to engage.
the first casualty was a bird. it had flung itself into the air, halting the arrow in its tracks, drawing your attention to the man standing atop the city wall. another bird died before you understood his crime.
leaves dappled the ground in shades of green, warm light falling on you as you ran. you didnāt know where you were going, really, and why would you? who had a contingency plan for when everyone they loved turned away? the river tumbled over smoothed rocks, the bright beacon of the statue of the seven pleading for forgiveness even as itās archon wanted you dead.
mondstat was the city of freedom. could it still be called that when you bled out before you could reach the border?
you couldnāt die. literally, you couldnāt. ley lines converged where you were crossed, absorbing the dissipating flakes of your physical body. the earth hummed beneath the anemo archonās feet as he watched divine blue blood be sucked up and swept away. was it a hallucination? how would he know?
elemental energy coursed through the earth, sprouting again at the geo through which it bled, releasing the holy light it carried and supplementing with its own. within the hour your eyes opened again, unsure whether to pray it was a dream or wonder which god could hear you.
liyue, nation of geo. the stone hummed beneath your feet, though you didnāt walk toward the city. youād learned your lesson fast, and a spear to the gut would certainly take longer to kill than an arrow to the neck. not that it mattered, of courseāthe adepti are too in tune with the land to not have noticed your arrival.
as it turned out a spear does hurt more, which you learned when you found it sprouting from your stomach in the split second before the pain hit. bright jade stained blue, betrayal glimpsed in the dying eyes of the one alatus once called his savior.
and it began anew.
teyvat bubbled with anger, torn between enacting vengeance on those that hurt its maker and protecting you. you were taken to places of shelter, but people learned to follow where nature raged loudest. even if they didnāt, if storms kicked up in false alarm to draw them away, intuition toward their creator was sewn into the hems of every living creature. hilichurls could only hold up for so long, and the millelith were used to dealing with vishaps. the dense forests of sumeru were memorized by the most vigilant forest watcher, the consecrated beasts in the desert too big to keep up with the agility of the general mahamatra.
how cruel for you to die like this, at the hands of the ones you should have been able to trust. how cruel for you to die at all, stabbed in the back by those who should have worshipped you.
the one on your throne was tolerated, just barely so, rationalized as the people needing an idol to follow in your continued absence. but now you were here, now they had no reason to be, and visions began to go haywire whenever they entered the throne room. boars outran hunters, trees tangling over boots as nature wrought vengeance on behalf of its god.
you were everything.
every scholar sought to understood your world further, your spirit found in every star in the sky. to study the world was to study you, how every string was woven into the universe. when you looked to the earth the soil said hello, the trees bowing before their creator, and yet your most beloved artwork was the one that hated you the most. was it hubristic to think a mortal could truly kill a god, or pathetic that they believed the fraud so quickly? they didnāt have elemental energy buzzing at their fingertips, they didnāt have the respect of the world, only commanding people, those easily swayed by a similar face and lucky coincidences. they were nothing like you, you who held galaxies in your blood, you who created the sky and the seas and the creatures within, who created everything. who was everything.
ā¦and now you were nothing. lost in the ley lines that frantically searched for a place to host your body, outrunning the hunt for the god of all. nothing, half conscious in the heart of the earth, within a cave that had cracked open for this very purpose. hidden, the entrance sealed by stone itself, only allowing in slimes that helped sustain you. how cruel, the skies wept, torrents of rain falling in punishment. the fraud barely left the palace anymore, which was only standing thanks to reinforcement from the geo archon. were it not for their lie, they would be dead a thousand times over, killed in every way you had.
but they were in the palace, hidden where the world could not reach. so stone cradled your body, carefully ensuring you still continued to breathe, leylines redirecting to offer energy. not awake, not asleep, stuck in a stasis while hell raged around you.
itās alright. teyvat would have its revenge eventually. lightning would find its way into the palace, someone would bring something carrying elemental energy into the throne room, something. the fake would die and you would be born anew from the earth, weak and tired but alive, most importantly.
anemo brushes off dust that begins to settle in your clothes, hydro doing its best to soothe the cracks on your lips. geo rolls you over so you donāt bruise, dendro adjusting its net of vines to keep you stable.
eventuallyā¦
Spider Popsicleās canon event was that he watched Uncle Ben and Jerry die