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inkblot22 · 2 months

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Can You Keep A Little Secret?

JFC this took me longer than usual I'm so sorry anon. I sort of explained it before, but I didn't exactly use your prompt, based on ineptitude on my part. After I finish reading Oshi no Ko, I might try again! Line divider by @/cafekitsune.

This fic is aimed towards sort of everyone, but the reader possesses afab features (they don't come into play until later, this chapter has no mention of them.) You'll understand what I mean by it being for everyone if you read the first paragraph or so. It has to do with suspending your belief/ employing your imagination.

TW for: lots of confusion, semi-shy reader, creep behavior, mention of death, mention of lobotomy/grippy sock jail, reincarnation. These warnings will get worse, and this takes place when all characters are 18+.

Waking up was never your favorite part of the day, but that feeling increases tenfold when you wake up in someone else’s body. You know for sure you didn’t look like this last week, and the name on your ID is similar to your own, but you don’t recognize the face in the mirror. Whoever you’re inhabiting has a few similar features to your own, but your skin was never this dewy, your eyes never so… hollow and strange.

When you looked up your name, you found out that you, or your body, at least, had died in your sleep. When you looked up the name on that ID, you found out that you’re the child of some big business man and a prolific model, and you apparently dabble in acting. Your dad isn’t your dad, but he calls you every night to make sure you’re settling into your “new” apartment. Your mom isn’t your mom, but she has popped by once or twice to ask you how you’ve been and make you really good food. She mentioned last night that your acting instructor was worried, since you hadn’t attended your Thursday classes, and also that your agent has been trying to contact you. You didn’t know you had an agent.

When you called your agent, who was literally just titled “Agent” in your new phone, she sounded relieved then irritated, chiding you for living the high life too fast. She said you weren’t popular or loved enough to go on week-long benders, and then she mentioned that she had a job for you and she’d see you on Thursday. According to this phone that isn’t yours, Thursday was tomorrow.

You made a night of getting prepared- slathering on the fancy face masks, trying on various outfits, scrolling through the pictures on the phone of your new body in the past, painting your really gorgeous nails- and then you went to sleep and woke up to a phone call from your new dad.

“Hi, sweetheart!”

“Uh… hi, Dad…” You mumbled. You didn’t know him from Adam, but there was no point in being rude to him.

He pauses, and then he speaks slowly, “Did you hear from your agent, honey?”

“Yeah- yeah I did, uh, I have acting class in a little, and she said she has a job for me.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it! You know you can always visit me if something is wrong, okay? Just call me or Devin and he’ll come get you as soon as possible.”

You don’t know who Devin is, but you don’t point it out, “Of course. Thank you, dad.”

There was another pause. This one stretches out for a while and then he mumbles, “Okay… love you, sweetpea.”

“Uh… love you too. I’ll call you when I get back home?”

“Sure thing. Bye bye.”

The call ends with a click and you hop in the shower, trying to scrub away the confusion. You pair the lotion with a body spray that makes you smell like a summer afternoon in an apple orchard, and then you dress yourself in a soft off the shoulder sweater dress with a pair of tights with little sequins and gems sewn onto the sheer black material. You pull your hair back, tied at the nape of your neck, and roll on some lip gloss. You grab your bag, which isn’t your bag, and stroll out, walking down the street to get to the talent agency.

The receptionist looks at you in some measure of shock and greets you kindly. You smile and wave. He looks even more confused as you clomp into the stairwell. Once you get to the third floor, mildly out of breath, you hurry to room 3-5 and silently slide into the back.

You’re not sure why you’re acting so covert, as the class hasn’t even started. A woman with dark hair strolls in and flinches when she sees you sitting there, your new name tumbling from her lips with confusion.

“Hello.” You hope that she’s the instructor, “How are you?”

She looks at you like you grew two heads and forces a smile, “Oh, I’m well, dear. Give me a moment to look outside.”

She clicks to the window in her heels and opens the blinds looking around wildly before she turns back to you.

“Well, nothing’s on fire and there’s a distinct lack of flying pigs, so I guess you’re finally serious about getting better at acting?”

“Uh… I…?” You don’t know how to respond, “I didn’t realize I’d been late so often.”

“Late? Half the time you didn’t even show up. The only person worse than you is-”

The door behind you opens. You clench your hands to stop the shaking you just realized you were struggling with, and turn slightly in your seat to see a willowy young man, tousled lavender hair being haphazardly smoothed by his slender hands.

The instructor snorts, “Speak of the devil. Hello, Mr. Felmier.”

He smiles, but it’s a bit too calculated. When he speaks, his voice is soft, almost artificial, “Ah ha… Good morning, Angie.”

Angie, evidently, rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the front of the room, crossing her long legs, and tilts her head skeptically, “Sure. If a satellite doesn’t crash in this room and kill us all in the middle of class, I’ll be shocked.”

“Mr. Felmier” walks over and smiles at you. It seems even more strained than before, and keeps eye contact with you as he points to the chair next to you, his voice high and sweet, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Oh, of course not. I don’t own that chair, haha!” You joke.

His face twitches, some micro expression that you’re just observant enough to notice, but not to see, and he takes a seat. Angie gets up and leaves and you look out the window. You can feel eyes on you, and when you turn to look at him, his face is impassive save for a slight narrowing of his eyes. You look down at yourself and pat your cheeks, suddenly nervous.

“Oh, no, is there something on me?” You ask.

He doesn’t immediately respond, his eyes blinking so fast that if he hadn’t done it twice you would have never seen the movement, and then he gives you that sweet, plastic smile, “Oh, no. Your makeup is different than usual. It looks nice. Pretty.”

“I- I’m only wearing lipgloss, so I guess that’s why. Thank you.”

He nods slowly, and tilts his head, still smiling as though he’s trained to do so, “After we’re done here, did you want to go get brunch together?”

You’re about to say no. You don’t remember him, because this is not your life you’re living, but if you did know him, you’d decline anyway. Something feels funny about him. You don’t really have to decline, though, since you have to go down to floor 2 and see your agent afterwards anyway, “Oh, uh, I’m so sorry. I have to do something after.”

“I can wait.”

“I don’t want to put you out. Maybe another time?”

His eyebrows pinch together ever so slightly and his smile doesn’t strain, but it feels wrong as he leans his elbow on the back of his chair to better face you, “Did you hear the news from Mirelle?”

“What news?” You don’t know who Mirelle is.

“Oh, you’re meeting with her afterwards, aren’t you?” He smooths the hair along your temple so it is slicked behind your ear, “Are you wearing that perfume I got you? You said you hated it.”

Okay, so whoevers body this was definitely knew this man, and now you don’t even know his full name. Judging from the way he’s speaking to you, you were friends at least. Your lashes flutter and you look away from him.

“I- I’m sorry. It smells very nice.” You don’t know how you’re supposed to be acting. The irony of waiting for an acting class while not knowing what your role here happens to be is not lost on you.

Felmier sits up like you insulted him and his voice is quiet, so quiet and tense that you don’t think you’re supposed to hear him, “Interesting.”

You glance at him again, “What?”

“I didn’t say anything. You like that bagel place down the street, don’t you? After you see Mirelle, meet me in the lobby. I think we should have a chat.” Although he is smiling, his voice doesn’t leave any room for argument as he turns back to the front.

You stand up, leaving your purse in your seat, and walk to the window, looking out of it for a moment until Angie strolls back in. She clicks her tongue and you walk back to your seat.

“It’s just you two? Now I’m really expecting a freak accident. Well, let’s get started.”

Acting class was… interesting. Since it was just the three of you, Angie had you read lines from a script and act out some kind of argument. She seemed pleased with your performance, but Felmier kept stumbling over his lines and making the wrong expression. He seemed tense by the time the two hour long session was over. You didn’t want to follow that thread, and besides, you had somewhere to be. You went down the stairs again and bumped into a woman with silver hair, who looked at you just as confused as everyone else had been, and smiled sweetly, genuinely.

“Hey, you. You’re a bit early.” She says.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so? I don’t know.” You guessed this was supposed to be Mirelle, your agent, maybe.

“It’s a good change, babe. Why don’t you come into my office?” She doesn’t really ask, since she’s already leading you over.

She takes a seat behind her desk and you take a seat in front of her, and she taps away at her computer for a moment before she says something.

“You remember Epel? Epel Felmier?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Oh? You ‘guess so’? Not that the two of you are constantly arguing, or anything.” She smirks, glancing away from her monitor to look at you, “Regardless, I’ve got something that will help with your little PR nightmare last month. What were you thinking?”

“Uh, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrow a fraction, but whatever she was thinking is ignored, “You and Epel are gonna be collaborating on an upcoming short film. Hopefully the two of you don’t get into another screaming match.”

“Um. Yeah. Hopefully.” All this new information and these new people are making your head spin. You don’t want to start panicking- you did enough of that last week- but you’re already exhausted. You wonder if there’s a back entrance to this building so you can just sneak out and don’t have to talk to Epel again. You don’t think you can mentally handle him talking to you over a cup of coffee.

Your agent, Mirelle, is looking at you expectantly, like she just said something. Your heart jumps into your throat, then sinks to your gut and you clear your throat quietly, shifting in your chair.

She laughs airily, “Oh, you didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

You shake your head, and she laughs again.

“I just said that production starts Monday. Try not to do anything crazy. This project is monumentally important for your public image.”

“Okay. Sorry for causing so much trouble in the past.” You mutter, standing up.

She shrugs with a happy little grin, “Oh, you’re young. Maybe you’ll grow out of it.”

You just nod. How are you supposed to even respond to that? If you get mad, you’ll probably get hysterical, and if you get hysterical, that is a one way ticket to a stay in grippy sock jail or a lobotomy. Rich people are different, and even though you’re living in some rich person’s body, you did not live this life for longer than a week.

You purposely walk to the other staircase. Most buildings have two for fire safety. Your eyes water as you pause on the stairs and you sigh before you start descending them.

Just as you get to the exit, your hand on the door, you hear a voice behind you, “Hey.”

It scares you out of your skin. You jump and spin and squawk, only to meet the wicked smile of Epel. It doesn’t reach his round blue eyes. He tilts his head from side to side, slowly, as if appraising you, and then he starts walking towards you and you push back against the door, opening it ever so slightly. He stops his motion and looks a tad surprised.

Then his eyes narrow, “Come back in.”

His voice sounds different, rougher. You don’t really want to, but it’s hot outside and you figure from all the odd looks and reactions you’ve gotten, running would be too erratic for this poor person’s life you’ve taken over.

When you close the door and remain leaned against it, Epel’s face relaxes. You didn’t even realize he was making any sort of tense expression. He glances at the spandrel, the area beneath the stairs, and sighs.

“You hit your head last week? That why you were missin’?” Yeah, he’s speaking entirely differently. He has a sort of charming country twang to his voice, an underlying roughness that makes him seem even more boyish than before.

“Huh?”

“‘Huh?’” He mocks, looking back at you. He looks like he might cry, but his eyes are angry, “That all you got to say? For years you’ve told me that I don’t mean shit, and now you’re actin’ like you don’t even know me.”

He is right. You don’t know him at all. Even though you’re still in the cool building, you begin to sweat. You don’t know what to say to this without going through the experiences you’ve had in the past week, so you decide you don’t have to, especially since it seems like he may get aggressive if you say the wrong thing.

You lean hard against the aptly named panic bar, turn on your heel once outside, and take off running. It dawns on you a little late that he might be following, or, seven forbid, that he knows where you live, so you take a different route as dictated by your GPS and call your new father as soon as you get in the building.

It’s the middle of the work day, so he obviously doesn’t pick up. You unlock the apartment door and pant breathlessly, leaving a hasty voicemail, “O-oh, great seven- ugh- okay, hi, Dad. I told you I’d call you when I get home, so that’s what I’m doing. Hope I didn’t disrupt a meeting or whatever. Call me back, bye.”

You flop face down on the bed and groan, rolling onto your back as the ringtone that you would never choose goes off. In bold white letters on the screen, it says “Bumpkin Boy” with no other indication of who it might be. You pick up.

The voice on the other end sounds heated, a quiet mocking lilt to it, “Bet you went home, huh?”

Your blood runs cold and your very ability to speak is ripped from your lips.

“S’okay. You don’t have to talk. I could pay you a little visit, see what it’s like to live like a nepo baby for a day, but I think…” He pauses, and when he next speaks you hear the smile in his voice, “I think I’ll just wait for Monday, since you owe me a coffee date, don’t you?”

He hangs up after that. You stand up and double-check that you’ve locked the door before you hide in your closet and try not to start hyperventilating. You can’t even beat yourself up for this one. These circumstances are entirely out of your control.

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cherrymoonvol6 · 4 months

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truly one of the best aspects of the lunter/witteclaw parallels is that the switcheroo of human luz luring "witch" hunter away is just SO on point with the themes of the story and philip's entire motivation as a villain. it's not a matter of humans VS witches, or religion VS paganism, but at the core of it lays the idea that anything that deviates from the norm needs to be extracted and destroyed. and in philip's time, that meant that witches needed to be eliminated.

but! that has changed, overtime. philip's world no longer holds that as the rule. not because the people who think like him no longer exist, but because the people who have been the target of discrimination and hatred have come together as a community and fought for their rights to live their lives to their fullest. and because of these, uh, "modern" ideas, luz fills the role of "evelyn" despite not being a witch herself, because she hits all the important bits: she's also the kind of pest philip would've considered a cancer for society all those years ago. and therefore, she manages to hit all the important story beats for her caleb, aka hunter: she's the one who triggers his first act of defiance against belos; she's the one who introduces flapjack to him; she's the one that takes hunter by the hand and leads him away from belos.

even then, her status as a human is impactful in the way belos treats her: he considers her an "equal", as much as that can mean. he uses this fact to manipulate and guilt-trip her. but that also means that he underestimates her, and that finally allows luz to put this putrid cycle to an end, therefore making luz and hunter effectively the last evelyn and caleb to graze the earth.

#lunter #sorry ok i listened to 'the unbearable lightness' today and broke down crying lol #they are THE soulmate reincarnated-love pairing ever #jsjsjsjjs i'll keep saying it. lunter being canon would've made this show 200% more impactful #1) gives meaning to the witteclaw tale 2) integrates it to the plot 3) ties in neatly with the show's themes #4) it makes belos a better villain 5) it gives luz a more active LI 6) it rightfully centers luz and hunter's dynamic #7) it honors flapjack's sacrifice and also 8) it leads luz to find like-minded people in the human realm #like idk this ship fucking slaps BECAUSE it has a monumental positive impact in the development of the show's ending #ok tag rant over. and i'll put the other tag i guess #toh critical #k i'm going to bed :]

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basilthymee · 1 year

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Stuck together in an endless cycle, all we have is each other.

#art thyme #rain world #rain world downpour #rw artificer #rw hunter #artihunter #i love angst augh #they have so many issues!!!#but atleast they have eachother...#together in hell...#the themes rw has with the whole reincarnation stuff is sooo good #i love this sort of stuff

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sunshine-in-a-bottle · 3 months

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Now that you're all here I can explain to you in great detail my mcyt timeline Bible, where I make all the smps share the same universe, build an incomprehensible timeline, and most importantly, explain how Lasercorn is the original incarnation of the blood god

#suds soapbox #this is IMPORTANT for LORE REASONS OKAY #Maricraft is So Old but it has themes relevant to the dsmp and I CAN PROVE IT #yes the life series is reincarnation. probably. yes hermitcraft is separate from life series #YES FUNDY WENT TO A DREAMWORLD TO ESCAPE THE HORRORS HE WAS EXPERIENCING #literally there is no reason for me to do this except for the joy of it #you understand

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quest-for-pluto · 1 year

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Asterism

Human!Neteyam x Human!Female!Original Character.

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Summary: He stared at his hands as they hovered in front of his face, tremors running up and down his fingers. His five fingers, not four. And deep, warm brown skin. Not blue.

When Neteyam dies, instead of ending up in Eywa’s promised paradise, he wakes up on an apocalyptic earth, with a strange human girl as his only hope for survival.

Chapter 2: Fourth Point

Warnings: Mentions of r*pe and sex trafficking.

It felt like an explosion had gone off right next to his eardrums—they were ringing so loud he thought they were about to combust and melt out of his skull.

"—ey."

His heart was pounding out of his rib cage, he couldn't breathe—

"H—"

The pressure on his chest was increasing unbearably, it now felt like an entire stampede of pa’lis were trampling over him.

"Hey! Snap out of it!"

Two gloved fingers snapped in front of his face, and the world suddenly rushed back into focus with startling clarity. Neteyam quickly blinked out of shock.

"Look at me," the girl said carefully. She was crouched in front of him, her slate grey eyes locked on him with unflinching intensity. "Breathe slowly. In—" she inhaled deeply and slowly. "And out. Do it with me," she exhaled.

Neteyam forced himself to copy her movements, his shaky breaths much less controlled than hers. With every exhale, he felt the buzzing in his head recede a little more, and his heart slowing to a more normal speed. She observed him silently.

"Good?" She asked him, once his breath was no longer audible.

When he nodded slowly, she pushed up off her knees, reaching down to offer him a hand. "Come on," she said. "Sitting around in this shithole is only going to get you killed."

For a moment he hesitated, remembering the cold and calculated way she'd threatened him at gunpoint—like she'd had practice, he thought, suppressing a shiver—but something about the way she was looking at him had changed. The blatant hostility and cold indifference from moments ago had softened slightly into a guarded wariness.

And she was right. If he stayed here, he'd probably end up in an even worse position than now. He was lucky she hadn't shot him the moment she saw him, like the humans back on Pandora would have.

Decision made, he grabbed her forearm, letting her pull him up to his feet. He teetered unsteadily for a moment, the rush of blood to his brain making him dizzy, but the girl's grip on his arm was firm and grounding.

As soon as he was stable, she abruptly let go of him, as if she didn't want to touch him any longer than necessary. He stumbled behind her, jogging a little to catch up to the brisk pace she set.

"Where are we going?" He asked, voice still a little hoarse from his earlier episode.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, before her gaze shifted ahead of her again. "Civilization," she said vaguely, pronouncing it more like see-vee-lee-zay-sh-on. Her words were elegantly elongated with a very subtle, rolling accent that he was unfamiliar with. Some letters were emphasized, like i's, while others, he noticed, were staccato, like h's, almost like she had to force herself to pronounce them. "I'll drop you off somewhere where you actually have a chance at surviving, and then you're on your own."

You're on your own.

Neteyam looked down, folding his arms over his chest. The reality of the situation was starting to truly set in. He was helpless on this planet, much like he was when he and his family had first joined the Metkayina clan, but this was infinitely worse.

Earth was a very large place, according to his dad, with many different languages and cultures. English, his dad's language, was only one of thousands. Neteyam would be like a newborn baby trying to run a marathon while palulukans snapped hungrily at his heels, waiting for him to trip and fall. Vulnerable and useless, he thought dejectedly.

As they walked in silence, he couldn't help but observe the new and unfamiliar surroundings, a horrid feeling starting to pulse in his chest. The sky was a dark, red hue, muffled by thick clouds. All around them, grey and copper rubble lay discarded on the ground. Half-destroyed concrete and glass structures stood abandoned like stray hills in a desolate plain. Not a trace of green in sight.

"What happened here?" He whispered in disbelief. He somewhat knew that the situation was bad on Earth, but never to what extent. He never could have imagined this though. The area was nearly razed to the ground.

She gave him that look again, the one where she couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "Same thing that's happening to most of the world," she said bitterly, batting a strand of hair out of her face in irritation. "War. Too many mouths to feed, not enough resources. You grow up under a rock or something?"

Neteyam glanced at her quickly. "Or something, yeah."

"Must've been nice."

Neteyam lowered his eyes, an intense wave of homesickness suddenly sucker punching him in the gut. He thought of fresh grass and gnarly tree bark, and even the colorful reefs of the Metkayina clan. "Yeah," he said softly. "It was."

She didn't answer, only looked at him calculatingly. She seemed to do that a lot—observe him carefully, as if she were constantly trying to figure out what he was thinking, his next move or motive. He noticed that her hand never strayed too far from her hostler either. It reminded him of his dad during the raids on the sky people. A wartime state of survival.

Out of one war, into another one, he chuckled humorlessly under his breath. How naive he was to look forward to paradise with Eywa for even a second.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, some two hours or so, before Neteyam began to spot larger structures in the distance. His jaw unhinged in pure, unadulterated shock. "Is that...?"

"Mmhm," she hummed in affirmation. "That's Fourth Point, it's run by a bunch of shitty, corrupt bastards but it's a far cry better than a lot of other places around here."

Fourth Point was massive, at least compared to the humble villages he was used to. Buildings made of metal and glass climbed high into the sky, the tips disappearing into the red clouds. Weirdly shaped structures he'd never seen before cruised easily through the air like a pack of ikran. And the lights. Eywa, everything shone with brilliant light, as if the entire city was powered by a star.

"Incredible," he whispered under his breath, a childlike wonder distracting him momentarily from his existential crisis.

"Yeah," she smirked sardonically like she knew something he didn't. "You'll change your mind. Come on," she waved him over, increasing her pace.

Neteyam grunted, still unused to walking without a tail. How the hell did humans do this all the time?

•

If he thought the city was captivating from afar, it was ten times as much from within.

The lights were even more magnificent now that he got to see them up close. They were everywhere, in every color imaginable. They lined the sides of buildings like beacons in the night, they flashed on the tops of skyscrapers like giant screens on the dark concrete and metal. The most fascinating by far though, were the humans made of light. They spoke like them and looked like them, but when he passed his hand through them he couldn't touch them, nor did they react. It was like a...lifelike, three dimensional video. Creepy, but undeniably fascinating. Lo'ak would've had a field day with this.

Even more fascinating though, were the strange machines humans used to fly. It didn't look like the ships back on Pandora, no, these looked more sophisticated, smaller, sleeker and less like they were designed as weapons of mass destruction. They cruised leisurely in an organized system he had yet to figure out, as they all knew how to fly to avoid crashing into each other.

And then there were the people. Surprisingly, they all looked different. With hair colors ranging from black to a light, platinum blonde, and skin colors ranging from a deep umber, to a peachy cream. Not a speck of blue though, he thought with disappointment. The path they were walking on was heavily populated, so he had to stick close to his guide to avoid getting pulled away and ending up hopelessly lost. He peered into the lit up windows they passed with wonder, taking in all the strange objects and people doing things he'd never seen before in his life.

"Stop staring at everything!" She nudged him harshly in the side. "You look like an overly excited toddler, it's going to attract attention."

He shook himself out of his trance, blinking as he instead focused his attention on the people around them. Like she had said, heads were starting to turn suspiciously in their direction.

His shoulders squared back a little out of instinct, the same way they always did when people would stare at him for being the Toruk Makto's eldest son and future Olo'eyktan in training. Right, how could he forget what he was taught? Warriors must always stay alert when entering unfamiliar territory.

And he was the first of his kind to set foot in this territory, so that rule was three times as important now.

You're on your own.

Neteyam pursed his lips, expression bleeding back into somber vigilance. The only person he could trust now was himself, so he had to be careful.

They walked for a little longer, before the girl jammed his ribs with her knuckle. "In here," she murmured, grabbing his arm firmly and pulling him in through a door.

He looked around in awe at the high ceilings and chandeliers, glowing brightly against crisp white walls. The only building he'd ever entered in his life was the lab on Pandora, but that wasn't even a quarter as grand as this. Racks of human clothing lined many, many aisles. The girl pulled him along, possessing no patience for his admiration.

She pulled him into a secluded corner, where they were mostly hidden by a rack of hanging pants. "Keep your head down," she said lowly. "When I say run, you run with me as fast as you can, okay?"

A sickly dread began to pool in his stomach. "Wait, what—?"

She tugged him back into the open before he could even finish his protest. Neteyam tensed, now a lot more on edge as she let go of his arm, walking leisurely towards a shelf of sunglasses. After a brief inspection, she grabbed a pair of darkly tinted square shaped ones, slipping them carefully onto his face.

"It's not even bright outside," he frowned, blinking in confusion. Curiously though, he found that his vision was not darkened in the slightest despite the tinted lenses. He could see just as well inside the store with the glasses as he could without them.

"They're not sunglasses," she smiled, confirming his thoughts. "They're privacy glasses. You've got some...well, let's just say I've never seen anyone who looks like you before, and there's a market for that around here."

"What do you mean?" He frowned. A market for his looks?

She glanced down at the floor, smiling wryly. "Just trust me, unless you want to end up drugged out of your mind, getting passed around like a cigarette. Remember when I told you you'd change your mind? Well, this is the real hub of the city. It's how the bastards on top make their money."

Neteyam's face paled as realization finally dawned on him. What she was talking about wasn't unheard of on Pandora, just very rare and frowned upon. Those who ever engaged in unwilling mating were damned to the fifth hell and outcasted.

"Wait," he said, mouth suddenly very dry. "I...I need to see."

He stepped carefully towards one of the mirrors with leaden feet, feeling his heart beating loudly in his throat as he pulled down the glasses. She stood silently behind him, watching him curiously.

His hair came into view first. Long, dark braided tresses that swayed gently as he shuffled his feet. Then his eyes. Wide and amber, with flecks of brown and gold, just like his old ones. Neteyam gasped, leaning closer as he gawked at the face staring back at him. Familiar, but very different all at once.

Dark, sepia-brown skin, much like the reddish-brown color of fresh tree bark, replaced his original cobalt blue coloring. White freckle-like markings were dotted over his nose, cheeks and chin, and—now he had eyebrows like his dad and siblings. He wiggled them experimentally. His nose was also much thinner now, small with a delicately slanting bridge, and his ears were placed lower, rounded at the tips.

"Woah," he breathed, reaching a hand up to palm gently at his cheek.

"If you're done admiring yourself, we should get what we came here for," she raised a brow, lips twitching slightly.

He frowned, but didn't turn away from the mirror, still weirded out by his new appearance. The boy in the mirror scrunched his nose, reflecting his actions. "What did we come here for?"

Several minutes and much debating later, they settled on a black sweatshirt looking thing that his guide called a hoodie. It had a high collar that rested just below his nose, and a deep hood that nearly folded over his eyes when he pulled it over his head. It was very warm and soft, which he definitely liked. He also got some dark brown pants of a rougher material that cinched snugly at his ankles (apparently called cargon pants—wait, no—cargo pants) and had deep nine inch pockets that held shut with sticky prickly things called velcros. Finally, he got new footwear of a dark leather material, called combat boots. They came up to his lower calf, still giving him enough flexibility to run while also protecting his feet from the roughly paved ground outside. His companion stuffed a few extra socks and undergarments into her satchel—the latter of which she refused to answer any questions about no matter how curiously he stared.

Apparently his tattered 'homeless man getup', as she called it, wasn't cutting it out in public. He needed to look established and invulnerable, not on the brink of starvation (her words).

Neteyam had hardly noticed the torn and dirty status of the mysterious clothes he'd woken up in, as he was used to wearing much, much less than what he was wearing now. The new human clothes felt extremely foreign and out of place against his skin, but not unwelcome.

"Okay, remember what I told you before," she ducked her head slightly, speaking silently so that only he could hear. "On my signal, we run, okay?"

His breath caught in his throat. "Are we in danger?" His brows furrowed somberly.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, expression unreadable. "Yeah, you could say that."

Neteyam tensed, a new rush of adrenaline spiking in his veins as his fingers twitched around air. He desperately wished he still had his crossbow with him, at least then he'd stand a chance at defending himself. He felt incredibly vulnerable without the familiar curve of it in his palm.

She guided him back to the entrance of the store, keeping her gaze straight ahead. She looked remarkably unphased for the situation they were in. "Wait," she said quietly, keeping a steady pace.

His eyes flickered around them, scanning everyone and everything suspicious he could find. The sinewy muscles at his shoulder blades tensed in preparation.

They were two steps from the door when it finally happened.

“BEEP BEEP BEEP!” The frames around the entrance lit up an angry, flashing red as sirens whirled deafeningly loud around them. Neteyam jumped, hissing in confusion and slight fear.

“What the hell do you think you’re both doing?!” An angry voice echoed from behind them, making his breath hitch. “They’re trying to steal! Get them!”

“Now!” She yelled, sprinting ahead of him with a sudden burst of speed.

*******

Pa’li = Direhorse

Palulukan = Thanator

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darlingpwease · 9 months

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It's all empty

you have never considered yourself a special follower of the dragon sect — but you are more than obliged to Qingheng-jun and are close to Lan Qiren to understand that the only way you can pay your moral duty and fulfill the role of a friend is to stay by side until your time comes.

it's not that you have a long time left — phoenixes don't have the same ambiguous or long lifespan — but you don't regret the thought of spending the rest like this. after all, Qingheng-jun's kids are adorable, and although you love to pamper and play with LAN XICHEN, letting him be a child while his uncle is not watching, having come to terms with your personality since you were young, — but teasing little thoughtful LAN WANGJI is also fun.

he's just so closed and quiet, even at such a tender age — what will happen when he grows up? you conspiratorially say Lan Qiren when you continue to squeeze his nephews, but Lan Qiren for the first time in front of them looks more like he's even ready to let you set fire to the house, so long as you don't bother him, and to curious eyes you just say that you have your secrets. after all, everyone has their secrets, right? — here you can force the strictest dragon in the world to put up with you, as long as you don't start switching to heavy artillery — LAN XICHEN looks at you with admiration with big shining eyes, while LAN WANGJI timidly accepts hugs.

cuties, cutest little dragons.

they love you, don't they?

constantly follow you, seek your presence and willingly allow themselves to hide in your arms, as if seeking protection from the whole world — you can only gently embrace them, cradling, pressing to your heart.

cute little dragons.

LAN XICHEN and LAN WANGJI are hard and not like ordinary children, but you are sure that they will grow strong and gentle — you just have to cover them with your wings, making sure that they do not repeat after their father or their uncle. they should not become part of this circle.

LAN XICHEN is obedient and noble; LAN WANGJI is thoughtful and gentle. they are both like moonlight and winter morning. all this is empty — you think when carefully take them out into the city, trying to somehow awaken their interest beyond being perfect and well-mannered.

you don't dare blame Lan Qiren — you know what he's like — but you also understand that anyone can't raise children like him. and neither like you.

but what can you do?

not that you'll ever have phoenix-dragon hatchling hybrids.

when you carefully break a piece of a three-piece mantou, giving them your part, even if both LAN XICHEN and LAN WANGJI try not to give out what they liked it, you just want to squeeze their cheeks, hide them in your arms and never let them go.

LAN XICHEN and LAN WANGJI like to hug, although the latter is more sticky; LAN XICHEN is more willing to seek approval and praise, trustingly poking into your palm, trying to see what will make you happy. LAN WANGJI has expressive eyes in which what he feels always floats, even if his face is like the untouched surface of a winter lake; LAN XICHEN'S hands tremble slightly when he is under pressure, but his smile is almost perfectly trained, even if you still see excitement and anxiety in his eyes.

LAN WANGJI is deeply immersed in himself and builds a bubble; LAN XICHEN is afraid to look inside himself, but willingly curls into a ball when you stroke him, allowing what none of you will allow anyone else. LAN WANGJI gets up early — always — but may not sleep for a long time, although he prefers morning. LAN XICHEN gets up early, but prefers late evening and early night, enjoying the time when it is impossible to see each other's faces.

their horns are beautiful, like their father's, and exquisitely curved. The tail of LAN WANGJI is lighter in hue, but the horns of LAN XICHEN have a more catchy coral shade.

you are so fond of two little dragons that are no longer small, but still looking up at you from the bottom up, like your chicks, who are growing faster and faster every year.

the two of them have cool hands, but that only means their hearts are hot.

the real dragons.

your precious ones.

when LAN WANGJI cries, he always puffs out his cheeks, frowning, while big tears drip from his bright eyes like red-hot gold, and even his tail hits the ground as if warning; LAN XICHEN cries more defenselessly, with a frightened, alarmed expression, like a hunted animal, and his tail freezes in place, trembling.

they are completely different.

you really hope they won't cry.

phoenixes are reborn from their own ashes, so one day you will definitely come back.

definitely.

...

the only thing you regret is that you didn't have time to say 'goodbye'.

#🥮 — mao dao zu shi #✉.lan xichen #✉.lan wangji #🧸.age gap #🧸.hybrid au #yes it's yandere au with reincarnation-ish themes #love my men when they are yandere dragons and equally unstable with reader who doesn't remember them but wants to indulge #poor meow meows #dom reader #gender neutral reader

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purpleyoonn · 1 year

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Dance of Time ml

D A N C E O F T I M E

“A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.” -Bukowski

Summary: You were finally back in the hometown you left right after graduation, researching the mysterious manor that laid outside of the town limits. Your family was acting weird, and the owner of the manor seemed to know more about you than he should. Everything changed when you entered the manor, and you weren’t sure your dance with time was going to last very long.

Pairing: Vampire BTS x Human Reincarnated Reader

Status: Coming Soon

Genre: soulmate au, reincarnation, yandere themes, possessive boys, angst, fluff,

Warnings: smut, violence, tempers, mentions of death, murder, some explicit descriptions of violence, blood,

Some warnings may be added to the beginning of individual chapters.

--------------------------------------------------

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moodboard

preview

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

#bts #bts au #bts vampire #bts vampire au #vampire bts #vampiretan sonyeondan #reincarnated mc #historian mc #some yandere themes #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #magic #dance of time #purpleyoonn

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iviin-855 · 6 months

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The funniest thing about taking the i am hero terminal at its word and interpreting the security officer as the ethernal champion is that between durandal and him durandal is the one who is just a guy. Yes he is an insanely powerful ai who has a good shot at becoming god by surviving the end of the world but that hasn't happened yet. And on the other side you have a constantly reincarnating force of violence and change, the anthropomorphic representation of the pre modern concept of heroism. Who is in a mortal shell, yes (as mortal as battleroids get anyway) but still

#marathon #eat the path #i love mythologizing the main character (tho it could be argued thats durandal. mythologizing the protagonist whatever) its fun #i take durandals mentions of your talent for violence and sudden destructions as pointing to the ethernal hero thing #tho i do think durandal is more than he appears (and he appears a lot of things)#and bungie likes to keep themes between their games so im taking the leveler from myth as indication too #reapearing force for violent change of the status quo thats just a reincarnating premodern hero

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waitmyturtles · 6 months

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A little bit more on I Feel You Linger In The Air (reincarnation, the novel version, and more)...

I am back home and recovering from a somewhat INSANELY stressful work trip (WHEW! TIRED!), and I've missed writing meta oh so very much, BUT! A couple of things will be happening in my meta life soon: The Old GMMTV Challenge Bad Buddy Meta Month starts next week (FINALLY, EEE!), Last Twilight starts tomorrow, the Den-Panuwat-penned-and-Only-Friends-adjacent series Playboyy starts next week -- we got a lot going on.

AND, AND! AND! I did myself something good while I was away. I HOUSED the novel version of I Feel You Linger in the Air, because, BECAUSE! I still can't help screaming mentally about that finale -- even though reading the novel actually made me realize that episode 12 of IFYLITA was a touch redundant.

Related to the IFYLITA novel and series: I got an ask in my inbox that somehow disappeared (@porjomkwan, if you're still out there -- thank you for the ask!) that asked about my thoughts on the theme of reincarnation in IFYLITA, and cited this fabulous post and reblog by @tipsyjaehyun and @clairedaring about this theme. Tipsy and Claire covered the majority of the ground that the drama series captures regarding reincarnation -- in particular, the GORGEOUS focus on the northern Thai blessing ceremony that calls back to a human host the 32 spirits that a host carries with them throughout their life/lives. Those spirits can be incarnated and/or reincarnated within repeated and/or beloved figures of the host's memories and reincarnated lives. (That explains why people like Ohm and Kaimook, in Jom's present life, are reincarnated as Khamsean and Fong Kaew in Jom's life of 1928 Chiang Mai. And it explains how Jom can continue to be called to different eras involving Yai, from Commander/Warrior/Mustache Yai of ancient Thailand, to 1928 Chiang Mai Khun Yai, to present-day Chiang Mai Yai Kanthorn.)

@clairedaring notes in their reblog that in the novel, the foundational theme of reincarnation AND of Jom and Yai being forever bound to each other is confirmed, directly and heavily, by Commander Yai. Claire quotes from the novel Commander/Warrior Yai speaking to Jom :

"Jom-Jao, listen, though you are fated to be apart from me, my love will never fade, and it will follow you like a holy spirit, protecting you in my place. No matter where fate brings you, no matter the danger you encounter, may those misfortunes fall upon my spirit instead of yours."

I want to confirm that this is my understanding and experience of the centering and grounding of reincarnation in the series as well (@porjomkwan, this answers your question to me!). And, this very much speaks to what I understand was a gentle criticism by Thai audiences towards the show as this season of the show ended -- because the Commander Yai period really sets in stone what Jom can expect for the rest of his live(s) regarding having Yai in his life again in another time period. In which case, I agree HEAVILY with @clairedaring that IFYLITA absolutely needs a season 2, because that Commander Yai period is so definitive of how this first season gets contextualized in the end of the entire piece.

A couple of other quick notes on the novel before I move to a comparative final point:

1) JOM. JOM IS A SASSY B IN THE NOVEL. DAMN! I honestly think Nonkul Chanon could DEF handle being a touch more sassy. "I'm a grown-ass man," Jom says at one point. Yes, you ARE, HONEY! Sassy B Jom courting and standing up to Commander Yai? It was a WONDERFUL story line. (BTW, the quality of the writing of the IFYLITA Y novel was, as expected, wanting, especially by way of a fan translation. But I have to agree with fans of the novel from Thailand and elsewhere, that the story itself was SOLID.)

2) The history behind the Commander Yai period is FABULOUS to learn about. (@tipsyjaehyun has some context about the various eras of Yai here, if you don't mind a few novel spoilers.) In particular, I spent a LOT of minutes reading about the lengthy reign of the Ayutthaya Kingdom in Thailand, and just -- as an Asian and an Asian-American watching Thai shows, getting deep into this reminds me of my own accountability and responsibility for trying to grasp what an average Thai viewer will bring by way of education-based historical awareness into shows like IFYLITA. This long Wikipedia article is a must read if you want to go deeper into IFYLITA context!

3) My third point on the novel leads into what I quickly want to note by way of at least one comparison to another show that did reincarnation themes differently, but also beautifully, by way of an original Y novel.

Until We Meet Again is a permanent FAVE of mine -- and it captures reincarnation, at least a different style of it, within its drama context. In UWMA's context, a red thread tied between the passed bodies of the lovers Korn and Intouch ensures that their spirits will find each other again in the future.

As noted within UWMA, different Asian cultures have different reads on the meaning of the red thread, from China, to Thailand, to elsewhere. This article notes northwestern and Vietnamese beliefs regarding the red thread, and this Wikipedia article notes the Chinese origins of the myths of the red thread. (Remember than in IFYLITA, the blessing ceremony of calling 32 spirits back to a host is cited as being from northern Thailand -- meaning, many of these myths, legends, and practices are utterly regional, and very tied to specific regional cultures that we can learn more about as viewers. Super cool.)

In UMWA, Korn's and Intouch's spirits inhabit other bodies -- namely, Dean's and Pharm's personages. And Dean and Pharm take on some characteristics of the spirits they provide a home to, and, even more interestingly -- Dean's and Pharm's OWN behaviors reflect the regrets and/or resistances that Korn and Intouch bear to each other, with Korn's spirit being far more forward with love than he was when he was alive; and Intouch's spirit being far more fearful of that love, knowing in the end where his love led to -- their deaths.

In IFYLITA, we see Yai's spirit being reborn essentially into different version of Yai, and all of them called Yai. In the novel, Jom treats all of these Yais as Yais that he can fall in love with -- he is in love with all of them, because the spirit of Yai is essentially a singular spirit being reborn into various different versions of the body of Yai (quick spoiler: the modern-day Yai is only half-Thai).

I happen to REALLY love these various interpretations of reincarnation between these shows, and certainly many, many more shows and movies across Asia that touch upon reincarnation as an essential theme of HOPE, of love, of joy. The various ways in which these practices are regarded, from Buddhism, to Hinduism, to Shintoism, and other Asian spiritual practices, are fascinating to learn about, including their regional variances. And they speak very much to me as an Asian, as to how I learn about cultural practices, nuances, and mores. (A comparative cultural example is how food -- like, say, a dish like Hainanese chicken rice -- differs among Thailand, Malaysia, and Singapore.)

But also, as an Asian watching shows like UWMA and IFYLITA -- I *know* that when I'm watching a show that's based on spirit reincarnation, that I'm not necessarily watching a "sad" show. I remember, of the day dramas of Japan and Korea that I watched when I was younger, that I absorbed better understandings of ancestor worship and elder respect. If a house had an altar with a picture of a passed-on elderly relative -- surely it was understood that that relative had passed away and one could be sad about it. But their spirit is meant to be honored at the altar, and especially in Japanese and Korean family dramas with these kinds of scenes, you can see characters speaking to the pictures of those who have passed on, having conversations, and being the subject of annual ceremonies of honoring the dead.

In other words, what I utterly LOVED about the IFYLITA novel -- and what I truly hope a season 2 will capture -- is that the Yais of the various eras were not despondent when Jom left them. Those Yais knew that a future Yai would experience Jom again. Korn and Intouch knew their spirits would meet again one day: it was Dean and Pharm that needed to come together to make that happen.

I wrote quite a bit about the Asian cinematic tradition of sad and/or open-ended endings in my review of The Love of Siam, and I think one reason why I absolutely cannot shake IFYLITA from my system -- and even UWMA, too, although UWMA has a confirmed happy ending -- is that IFYLITA is utterly reflective of this practice of the open-ended ending, at least for the show's first season, because we KNOW, through reincarnation, that Jom WILL encounter Yai again. If you read the novel, you know that Commander Yai promises this. But even if you don't read the novel, and we never get a season 2 -- to see Yai Kanthorn strolling right into Jom's arms, without very much other context, is enough, at least for an Asian audience, to know that the spirits did their thing again. Dramatically, I do think the finale could use more finessing (cc @lurkingshan and @neuroticbookworm, to whom I said this when I finished the novel), but now that I have the novel's context, I know HOW the finale could have been improved.

I took this ask as a major excuse to just unwind more and more on a piece that I totally loved in IFYLITA, and I hope to heck that we get a second season. I am thrilled that I made IFYLITA my debut into Y series reading, because the story is just so solid, and as I often say about my really beloved shows -- IFYLITA does not shy away from being rooted in assumed knowledge about cultural practices that an Asian audience can automatically check into. It really felt familiar and homey to watch this incredibly made and well-told story about an enduring romance, and I'm so appreciative that IFYLITA will be a show I'll be holding close as this year closes out -- a year that started off on the strongest Asian note with the fabulous Moonlight Chicken. MLC and IFYLITA encapsulating 2023 for Asian audiences? We were fed really, really well.

#i feel you linger in the air #i feel you linger in the air meta #ifylita #ifylita meta #tee bundit #asian themes in asian shows #reincarnation in dramas #reincarnation in asian dramas #nonkul chanon #bright rapheephong #moonlight chicken

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serexvu · 25 days

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velzard from that time i was reincarnated as a slime

#🎥 serexvu icon set #twitter layouts #twitter layout #twitter themes #anime icons #twitter #anime icon #manga #twitter headers #anime #manga icon #manga icons #that time i was reincarnated as a slime #velzard

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 years

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zhongli x reincarnated gn!reader imagine on my mind today ー

as the oldest of the seven and someone who has had been a deity even before his time as an archon

zhongli has had many titles over the centuries: warrior god, lord of geo, groundbreaker, god of contracts. as the oldest of the seven, it was no surprise. he existed long before the seven even came to be and he remembered much of it. he remembered the battles and the adepti who fought by his side

he remembered the many gods that once roamed the land too. he remembered gentle havria who couldn’t bring herself to harm a fly let alone another individual. he remembers intellectual guizhong who bestowed her followers with knowledge and technical contraptions

and he remembers them.

amur, god of festivals and mirth and soother of the dead. while many historians in liyue debated over amur and which nation presently housed what would have been their domain had they been alive, all could agree that amur was a kind god respected by their people. a wielder of the power of dendro, knowing all too well the cycle of life and death and desired their people to live their lives to the full extent of their brief lives

“all things return to the earth. mortals, animals, plants and even we the divine. in that, we are all very much equal” was transcribed on their domain. some historians found it disrespectful for even a god to say. what sort of archon would such a lackadaisical god be had they managed to take a seat at the seven? some argued, however, that amur’s words held truth to it, especially after the death of rex lapis

“i would have liked to see what sort of archon amur would have been.” the 77th director of the wangsheng funeral parlor exclaimed one particular day, her red eyes full of intrigue. “they’d have understood my desire to promote my business.”

“from what is known of them,” the corner of zhongli’s lips turned into a small but fond smile. “i believe the two of you would have gotten along. one lesser known story of amur...” he then trailed off, recounting a few tales most anyone could find should they happen to find an old book

but zhongli remembered the god that inspired those tales; playful yet knowing amur. they weren’t the most powerful god, but they were content.

they crafted instruments and taught their followers how use them, created grove after grove of fruit, and when a celebration arose in response to a bountiful harvest, it was no surprise to zhongli that amur would be in disguise dancing with their followers

amur who would call him a “blockhead” like barbatos and welcome him to eat the fruits of their domain in the same breath

amur who would look at their dying blooms with the same proud eyes they created them with because even they fell, their death would lead to new life

“we’re compatible.” amur whispered softly one particular evening zhongli - morax - crafted, cupping morax’s own earth filled ones. the bright green of dendro colored their hands and just like that, the dirt he held filled with sprouts. amur’s warm gaze traveled from their sprout and dirt covered hands to zhongli’s eyes. “geo and dendro need each other for life to thrive. that makes us quite compatible.”

“you confuse yourself for a mortal” he replied after a moment of silence, pulling his hands away gently. “you tell them that we’re equal

“we look quite human to me.” amur replied airly

“we’re not human, we’re better”

“stronger we might be, you old blockhead, but when it comes down to it, we can be as imperfect and as flawed as mortals” amur’s words were gentle, a small smile still on their face.

soon after that conversation, battles to be one of the seven erupted across the continent and many of those familiar faces were lost one by one.

“don’t worry about me, morax.” when was it he approached amur in warning? when the battle was coming toward a bloody close? no, it was after he’d caught word of what happened to havria after her constant retreating from the battle. slain by her own people, a tragic end.

“why morax,” amur had smirked, eyes twinkling. “are you worried about me? i don’t think even that carefree sylph from mondstadt would do something like that.” amur continued wryly and with the temperament of his younger years, zhongli snapped.

“this isn’t a game, amur. not fighting isn’t an option. the fight will come to you whether you want it to or not.” amur knew this, they had to have known this. amur was many things, stupid wasn’t one of them. “contrary to how you act, i know you’re aware you can’t run forever.” zhongli remembered telling amur bluntly. “you can’t shelter your people forever.

for the first time since he had known them, amur’s smile had faded. their eyes were dull and they looked tired, weary. “of course i know, i’m no fool, morax.” they’d whispered. it was like the centuries they’d been alive had caught up to them in one moment. “try as i might, it’ll do no good. i’d end up like havria.”

“let me-” zhongli, morax, had began before stopping promptly. let me what? let me protect you? why would i-

“don’t you worry about me, morax.” amur smiled when he didn’t continue. “i’ll be fine. i’ll move my people somewhere they can be safe and i’ll join the battle. i swear on my people, however, i’ll not make an enemy out of you.”

“... i wasn’t worried you would.”

they looked pleased when he said that. “good. i look forward to being seated at the seven with you.” their smile was strained as the words left their lips, as if even they themselves didn’t believe in their abilities. “many look down on dendro. that rat osial being one of them. i bet he’d be rolling in despair and rage if there was a dendro archon rather than him and his silly pools.”

zhongli couldn’t find it in himself to laugh at your jokes

“i’ll see you again on the other side of this war, i promise.” and against everything in his body screaming to not let you go, he left to continue fighting his own battle

six others rose to celestia to claim the thrones they’d been promised if they came out victorious. amur was not one of them. none other than osial had laid them, and their people, to waste until all that remained was what were few traces of their civilization.

i made a wrong choice. maybe if he had a better understanding of mortal emotions, he might have been able to better label the affection he felt for them. perhaps he would have stopped you, would have urged you to join your people with liyue

a week after his newly established position as the irrefutable lord of geo, he visited your favorite grove. “you’ll be pleased to know,” he poured a cup of wine amur would never drink. “a dendro archon came to be after all.”

then zhongli meets you and it felt like the world stopped. you were a traveler from fontaine trying your luck with liyue’s branch of the adventurer’s guild. you met ms tao on the way back from a procession and the two of you struck it off before hu tao brought you to see the parlor as a guest.

“i’m (y/n) from petrichor.” you introduced yourself as but zhongli only saw amur. there was nothing but amur in your skin color and and hair to the proudly brandished dendro vision you sported on your hip. “and you must be mr zhongli, i’ve finally seen you. met you!” you then corrected yourself in embarrassment. “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i worded things like that”

it’s wonderful to finally see you too. he thought.

to her you laugh that familiar laugh and to see you smile that familiar smile. even your grimace was familiar as he watched you speak of osial with an unnatural amount of unkempt for a non-native of liyue. “it just rubs me the wrong way. who decides to attack an innocent city just because they’re still angry at the god who sealed them away?” you asked zhongli over dinner. “it’s childish. people can say what they want but this just proves that gods and humans have a lot more in common than they think- oh but don’t tell those historian friends of yours i said that, they’d kill me”

“your secret is safe with me” zhongli vowed seamlessly much to your immediate relief

“you know, we’re pretty compatible mr. zhongli!” you grinned widely after a successful commission you asked him to accompany you on.

“yes, we planned a thorough strategy to dealing with those treasure hoarders.”

you snorted though you looked more amused than exasperated. “not just that.” you gestured back and forth between the gold and bright green visions between you both. “people can say what they want about geo and dendro; rocks and flowers kick ass”

you nudged the man playfully, prepared to ask him nonchalantly if agreed with you only to be taken aback by the warmth in zhongli’s eyes. “one could argue that geo and dendro are the most compatible of elements. with plants, earth can’t host life and without earth, the seeds of those same plants can’t take root to grow. they need each other to thrive.”

“yeah i guess... that’s true.” you stared at zhongli with wide eyes, heart beating a million beats per second. suddenly the distant sight of a hydro slime was more compelling to look at. odd, it’s a bit blurry. you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, confused by the tears.

“(y/n)? are you alright?”

“i guess it’s just a bit bright out, that’s all.” you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him more or yourself. “seriously, i’m alright. it’s just...” you appreciated how zhongli waited for you to find the right words. “i’ve never heard someone talk about... it just feels like i’ve been waiting for those words for a long time.”

i’m just being weird, don’t mind me you wanted to joke.

honestly, i’m kind of the town weirdo back home you wanted nonchalantly sing

large gloved but warm hands held one of your own tightly as golden brown gazed at you intently before you could do either of those things. “i’ll gladly say it to you many more times.”

#look she's writing #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin #zhongli x reader #reincarnation au.... or is it??#that's the real question #decided god reader's name amur by combining amdusias and murmur #both of whom are dukes in the ars goetia #had to keep it on theme #a wild hu tao is also spotted #osial slander i guess lmao #reader is not the dendro archon #they didn't even get a chance smh #god!reader au

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