#its gonna crash i know it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cometrose · 5 months

Text

i’ve got two zhongli origin theories

1. he’s a fallen star or a piece of the sun that fell in teyvat or a sun god/solar chariot

2. hes a servant of celestia but was banished/demoted for disobedience

theory 1 is an old theory but i always feel he’s an astral body of some sorts “planet befall” is his burst name “stars dim light fades” is his namecard description “gold is the tears of the sun” this is what the melusines say after being handed a piece of cor lapis the fact the solar chariot crashed when rex lapis was young and then zhongli is always symbolized by the sun with gold as his signature item. All the other archons (ei, rukkha, nahida, furina etc) are represented by the moon as are many other deities or divinities (azhdaha, guizhong, xiao and ganyu) zhongli is one of the few immortals to fully embody the sun

theory 2 has more to do with his connections to celestia. while super subject to change and not at all reliable i always think about one of zhongli’s beta lines is about celestia and he speaks very fondly of it stating he hasn’t been there is a long time next is the mora he produces with the triquetra symbol associated with celestia

then in chinese it states zhongli was demoted 6000 years ago when he arrived in teyvat as opposed to the eng version of ‘descended’.

In his 5th character story prior to rukkha getting erased it stated that barbatos and morax were the only original members of the seven and now it states that they were the only two in positions of leadership but isn’t that the same thing? not to mention barbatos fell asleep the same time nahida was born so in reality of the original 7 only rex lapis was in a position of leadership and then in the same text later down it still says that “The seven seats changed and again were changed, till five of the seven at the table were all departed” but if he really forgot rukkha shouldn’t it be four not five? this section of text is the same pre and post sumeru so long story short i think he remembers rukkha to some extent so he didn’t come straight from tevyat

and then even though he states he’s eroding he is very confident in his memories likely due to his contracts so i think erosion effects him differently and then their is his connection to the heavenly principles he specifically states erosion was imposed on him by them and then he praises furina for deceiving them and then there is his contract with them that stops him from talking about the cataclysm all in all i believe he’s familiar with the heavenly principles on a deeper level like he’s playing both sides

bonus: i think it’s neat zhongli is always associated with life and creation much like celestia (and the sun), he gave azhdaha eyes and created the archaic petra flower he created whales and eagles and beasts made of stone granted the adepti illumination and a mastery over alchemy

bonus bonus: morax was alive during the age of the 3 moon sisters and there are few stories were it’s implied he mentions them directly anyway this just means he’s far older than 6000 and has lived through numerous tevyat societies so he’s got a very long lifespan not as much as an elemental being but he knows far more about this world

bonus bonus bonus: zhongli’s 6th constellation is “Chrysos, Bounty of Dominator”. Chrysos is latin but is borrowed from ancient greek meaning Gold (Khrysos). Khrysos is a daimon which are lesser divinities in greek mythology and often a personification of abstract concepts. Daimons were great and powerful figures who after their death were granted divinity and some were transformed by Zeus to guide humanity. Khrysos is son of Zeus and the personification of gold and wealth ‘that cannot be devoured by moth or rust’. Son of Zeus? Free of impurities? Tasked with guiding humanity? Very similar to the relationship to the archons and celestia and could mean zhongli has very divine origins.

anyway that’s what i got, as to what he *is* maybe he’s a celestial dragon that got demoted.

or i think about heavenly chinese immortals who, when they commit crimes, or want to grow as a person, may be sent to the human realm to go through trials and suffering that comes with living and guess what zhongli does in his free time.

May he’s a piece of the sun that crashed down in teyvat and got assigned godhood hence his dedication to the future and seeing a new day

#zhongli #zhongli headcanons #genshin impact #did you know in tcg of the character cards only paimon and zhongli’s card produce omni dice #omni dice which is associated with the 8th element and the primordial one- okay i’ll shut up #i think he was chilling in celestia and got booted and now he sits on earth calling them trash under his breath #that’s all i got #i could talk more and provide more references but that’s exhausting!#he could be just a chill adeptus at the end of day #did you know chrysoprase is a type of rock but this one is green #it’s greenish gemstone that’s pretty rare and valuable due to its unique composition and color #anyway i’m gonna stop now #you want zhongli lore? have fun reading up on the ideal chinese man immortal god while also dipping into ancient latin #why are you latin too? like he’s not just chinese he’s latin too WHY #i think he’s a meteor or piece of the sun that crashed onto earth #that’s why is on the edge of descender not descender #the only other one whose got really strong sun symbols is deshret

120 notes · View notes

purgeturbia · 7 months

Text

i've been working on something for... quite a while. i'm not ready to share the whole thing yet (read: it's not even close to being finished), but this part of it, while mostly unedited, can stand pretty well on its own, so have a little bit of smitten obi-wan. as a treat.

*eta bc i forgot the first time: ~2k, canon-typical mentions of death but nothing graphic, mostly fluff

the rest of the work is not like this.

XXXVII. START WARS AND BURN CITIES

When he and Cody and the 212th had liberated planets from the Separatists — although he muses, now, that they had not done much liberating at all, if the end result was the desolate fear-space the galaxy has become — there had often been more time spent cleaning up the aftermath of their battles than there had been actually fighting. The machine of war was not a tidy one, and Obi-Wan hated to leave innocent people in a worse state than he had found them.

Often, during these pseudo-recovery times, he was excluded from the physical labor. Cody tended to push Obi-Wan off into the command tent to fill out the hundreds of forms that came with successful completion of a campaign, saying, “There are thousands of vod’e, sir, and only one of you,” but Obi-Wan saw it for what it really was — a chance (an order) to rest “for once in your kriffing life, General.”

Obi-Wan, after the first few campaigns, never argued. Crash would be on his ass for trying to help with cleanup anyway, and he did so despise being hauled to the medbay.

Though his stack of requisition forms and reports to write and casualty lists was always far larger than he cared to admit, Obi-Wan was, despite his field ban, never one to sit idle in command after a battle. He would, instead, crank out as much flimsiwork as he could before his body began to ache with the stillness of it all, and then he would mingle with the troops. The shinies, especially, were emboldened by his presence among them. They were so young, even the veteran troopers, and anything he could do to ease the pain of a life defined by war was an obligation, even if it was just a kind word here or there.

He was never content with the mental state of his men. Even after a decisive victory, or a battle with minimal casualties, or a skirmish with none at all, there was a sharp edge to their presences in the Force. Their hands shook ever so slightly and their smiles were never quite genuine and their eyes were constantly moving, observing, calculating.

The war lived inside all of them, himself included. The thing was, though, that Obi-Wan had had those few glorious years, before Qui-Gon and Bandomeer and Melida/Daan and the rest of his life that had come crashing down around him and never stopped, where there was no war in his bones.

His troops had been born with the war in them, and that was a pain he could not take away.

Even so, he would move through the camp like a fish through water, dropping hands to pauldrons and calling greetings across the expanse of tents. He would bring rations and fill canteens, and linger around medical looking for tasks until Crash told him to stop lurking and go bother somebody who would appreciate it. He’d always wiggled his eyebrows afterward, though, and told Obi-Wan very dramatically where Cody had gotten off to, so it was easy to see that he was never truly upset. Obi-Wan, in return, would blush about sixteen shades of red and very pointedly stalk off in the opposite direction of wherever Cody happened to be.

It was on one such occasion, on a forested planet Obi-Wan can no longer remember the name of, that he had turned away from Crash (and, he’d thought, Cody), only to stumble upon his commander preparing to direct half of Phantom Company through the process of removing a fallen tree that had crushed a house and blocked most of the packed-dirt road stretching through one of the little settlements they’d come planetside to defend. Obi-Wan could have moved the tree himself in a matter of seconds, but. Cody had told him to stay out of the cleanup, and one of his least favorite things in a time with many unpleasantries was upsetting Cody.

So he’d lingered on the outskirts, observing. Phantom acted, of course, as a well-oiled machine, and though fierce pride for his men bubbled up in his chest, Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of indulgence. He leaned against a still-standing tree just behind the houses across the way from the crushed one, and watched Cody work. He was a study in professionalism, in genius, even when faced with a task so simple as moving debris. Cody burned with a focused intensity that matched the sunburst on his armor as he paced around the tree, and they had spent long enough nights hunched together over sims and holotables that Obi-Wan could easily guess the questions being mentally asked and answered in quick succession: how heavy is the trunk? How many troops do I need to lift it? If we apply more leverage here, will the house be more damaged or less?

It struck Obi-Wan then that he had not had time for fanciful things like poetry since the war’s beginning — but then again, maybe he didn’t need it. Maybe it had been right in front of him all along.

It was in the midst of this realization that he was pulled out of his thoughts by a presence at his elbow. When he turned, it wasn’t a clone, as he’d been expecting, but one of the locals; a wizened old woman leaning on a painstakingly carved wooden cane. She was not looking at Obi-Wan, but at the troopers as they worked. She was looking at Cody.

She had spoken before Obi-Wan could. “Strange, isn’t it.”

He waited a beat, and then another. She was silent beside him. “That would depend on what it is, I suppose,” he said eventually.

She laughed, though it was more of a huff than anything. The indulgent sort of laugh that comes from a person who knows a joke has been made but who doesn’t really feel like laughing. “All of this. The war, the clones. The Jedi, leading them. You’re not meant for this, are you.”

It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t answer it. “You know,” he murmured, “you’re the first person … outside of all this, to notice that.”

She laughed again. It was no more sincere than the first time. “Am I really on the outside, Master Jedi?” she asked. “Are any of us?”

Obi-Wan knew she was right, so he merely inclined his head. Cody was positioning Phantom around the tree. It looked like his plan was to heave it up and over the houses and the road using applied leverage from the base, and dismantle it for lumber once its position was no longer an immediate problem. It was a good plan, very practical, very Cody, and Obi-Wan couldn’t quite keep a small smile from creeping across his face.

He startled when the woman spoke again. “Is it worth it, then?”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed and he hummed, confused. To protect the innocent, of course the war was worth it. He wasn’t meant for it, none of the Jedi were, but he would fight it a thousand times over to save those who could not save themselves. Why would she ask him that? Why else would he be here?

He felt eyes on him, then, and turned to see the woman finally looking at him and not at his troops. Something in her face reminded him of Yoda, like she had lived a dozen of his lifetimes and known more than he could ever hope to learn. “Is it worth it,” she repeated, and continued, “for him.”

All of the breath left Obi-Wan’s body in a rush. He suddenly felt exposed, uncovered, though he was sure of his safety in the saber hung at his belt and his trusted men not forty meters away. Little gods. Two words was all it took to undo the great Negotiator. But he supposed nobody had ever come so close to his soul with two words before. He was, for the first time in a very, very long time, unsure of what to say.

“I —” he started, and stopped just as quickly, because he’d been about to defend himself, but there was no need to defend in a battle that was already over. He settled on, finally, “He is … very dear to me.”

“You would not have met him without this war.” Something in her voice was sharp, and he knew the words he spoke next would determine whether he passed a test she didn’t even know she was setting. “He would not even exist.”

He chose his response carefully. “No. But sometimes I think — perhaps it would have been a gift, for them, to never have lived at all.” He took a deep breath, steadying. “They have never known anything but war. They were bred for it, raised on it, and now they breathe it and eat it and it haunts their dreams. As much as the idea of it pains me, a galaxy without him in it, he would not exist without his brothers, and they would not exist without the war in their bones.” He turned back, toward Cody, who was helping lift the base of the tree, readying to swing it out away from the road. “How can that be worth it? The misery of millions for the happiness of one?”

The tree was suddenly standing again, propelled into the sky by Cody’s careful placement of force and the sheer brute strength of battle-hardened troopers. It wheeled above them for a moment, rotating, before crashing into the ground and sending up a cheer from the men. Obi-Wan was caught momentarily in the sunbeams of Cody’s victory smile, radiant, glorious, beautiful even from a distance.

“You love him,” said the woman.

To hear the words out loud tore at something in him. He would never be able to say them himself, but he’d stopped denying the truth of them long ago. “Yes,” he said simply. “He deserves more than this, better than this. I would never wish this existence upon him, and in another life I would never claim this war to be worth it just so I might have the honor of —” the word loving stuck viscerally in his throat and he swallowed around it, “of knowing him again.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms tightly, wishing he had thought to bring his robes with him then, if only for something to do with his hands. Cody, having finished delegating the deconstruction of the tree, had spotted the odd pair and was heading over, bright with his success.

The woman, looking at Cody and then back at Obi-Wan, huffed that strange not-laugh again. “If you win this war, Master Jedi, will it have been worth it?”

With Cody striding toward him, Obi-Wan was stuck between the sensations of a heart full to bursting with the pain of a love he could never truly have and the gut-punch realization that maybe, someday, he could. He barely managed to gasp out an “Oh, I —” before Cody was upon them, saying, “General, sir, I thought I told you to stay at camp,” but his smile betrayed him, and Obi-Wan found himself grinning back, breathless, and for a brief moment there was no war and no winning and no losing; there was only them, together, and the galaxy was theirs for the taking.

Now, the surface of Tatooine is dark and chilled. Wind whistles around the hut on the edge of the Dune Sea — a sandstorm will hit in the next few days, and in the morning they’ll need to start preparing. The memory of that woman comes back to him, unbidden, and he clings tighter to Cody, wrapped in his arms on Obi-Wan’s lumpy old bed. He thinks of Anakin, as much as it hurts to, and of the thousands of fallen Jedi, and of every clone forced to take the life of innocents, their bodies their own but not their minds. The war lost him everything, everyone, and everywhere he’s ever loved. But little gods. Cody is alive. He’s here, and safe, and they’re together again, his sunshine returned to him. Obi-Wan hates himself for it (hate leads to the dark — please, stop, please), but the worst parts of his soul are screaming it: maybe for this, this small salvation in the ruins, everything had been worth it after all.

#star wars #codywan #cody x obi wan #my writing #i made a whole ass spreadsheet for the gar including ocs for this fic #crash is my 212th medic. i love him #and phantom company is real TO ME. my baby children <3 #this fic is gonna be so fucking long when its done #please let me know what you think! don't be a dick but otherwise tell me things :)

27 notes · View notes