For context, I transed my Animal Crossing Character for fun, now i kinda wanna recreate the outfits.
But for now i wanna focus on one and can't decide.
Ignore the stupid names, just focus on the outfits itself.
I don't expect this to do well, but it felt right to do.
Also, keep in mind im Amab, and have no real clue on feminine clothing and how it will fit me. So with all that thanks for voting, each vote means a lot to me. And feel hugged, if you like that. I also put in a None/Don't and a suggestion option if you don't like any of those.
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You see, ZhongVen is great because they're the only ones who get it. They're the only ones who could understand. All of these other, new Archons will never get it, they didn't fight in the War. They might love their people and want to protect them, but they didn't have to live through it. Ei did, but she wasn't meant to be an Archon. She was meant to be Makoto's shadow; she's a warrior, not a ruler.
But Venti and Zhongli? They fought for their children and their people, and took the elemental authority to protect what was theirs. And they know. They know what it means to be the victors of a bloodbath. They know the weight of each other's sins; they have to, because they bloodied their hands together. And in the entirety of Teyvat, only they could understand how old and sad and tired they are and how they're trying to make a little corner of mundane life for themselves.
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stella fortuna
summary: ventis entry for my previous (formal) post, aka a minor character study. this was meant to be up 3 days ago :)
word count: 1k
-> warnings: massive spoilers for mondstat archon quest
-> gn reader (no pronouns)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24
< original post || < masterlist >
if you asked venti how he felt, seeing everybody in mondstat be chosen as a vessel but him, you’d get the same answer every time, no matter where or when. even drunk, flopped over the bar with an empty glass in hand, he recites the exact same response as if it’s been committed to memory.
“what need does a bard have for divine strength? i’m glad my friends get to go on adventures, but my place has always been to tell stories, not to write them.”
if you were to listen closely, past the sheen of charisma that coated all of his words, past the mask of a bard and into the heart of the wind, you’d hear the lie.
the memorized words, a paper-thin front over his true feelings, only hide the truth from those who don’t care to find it. the drip of wine only makes this clearer; put a bottle in his hand and watch how quickly his eyes turn blank, how the smile pulling at his features feels forced. the same words, the same lie, the same turmoil that surrounds his every action. confusion is hidden in the downturn of his eyes and something akin to desperation hides in the tilt of the bottle, yet his words come out as sugar-sweet as his drink.
“it doesn’t bother me. why should it?”
it shouldn’t.
he shouldn’t be jealous. he shouldn’t be surprised that mortals were blessed first over a god, he shouldn’t be examining his own skill set for faults. he’s an archon. one without his gnosis, sure, one with the least power from his people, sure, but an archon nonetheless. he still wields anemo with more strength than anybody in mondstat could dream of, the winds still bend to his will, he still challenges amber to an archery contest if the day is slow and he still wins, even with her extra star on her side.
venti doesn’t need acknowledgment from his god, not when there are so many mortals that deserve it. not when hilichurls still fall before his bow, not when his windcurrents still carry pets and children and kites from trees, when the whisper of a breeze alerts knights to a threat at his bidding.
(but he wants it)
none of the other archons have received divine blessings, he’s not even an outlier in that sense. he’s not an exception to the rule, he is the rule, and yet he finds himself wishing it would bend anyway. he should count himself lucky, in truth, that a vessel of his element is always at his gods side. he should be happy that the creator found joy in his domain, that some of the highest favored bore his winged seal. he should take pride in the fact that the head of mondstat’s church was given 6 stars, share diluc’s joy in having his vision burn brighter. he should put a bottle on his step for the darknight hero to enjoy, in celebration of his crimson flames searing hotter than ever.
so why can’t he?
venti couldn’t hide the way his fingers faltered at the wash of divine power coming from the door to the angel’s share, nor the haste with which he looked over. his hand still strummed his lyre, but he let the reprise go on for a bit longer than it should have, letting himself take in the uncharacteristic nod diluc sent his brother before moving to the back room.
kaeya’s eye caught his the moment before he looked away, something knowing in the ice. with a slight lift of his hand, he downed the rest of the wine in his glass.
venti looked away, the finale of his tale finally falling from his lips.
it was late, most of the patrons far past sober, their minds too soaked in alcohol to register the flatness to his voice. when he ended his story with a flourish, skipping the last few bars of the melody, all but one cheered.
the exception joined the outlier, tucking his lyre into his inventory. venti flagged the bartender, kaeya kindly waiting until he had wine in his hand to speak.
“why the long face?”
he looked over, glass half-raised to his lips. the captain seemed… genuine, almost, something knowing in his eyes. whether it was his usual charisma or not didn’t matter, not really—gods saw easily through mortal lies—but he knew it wasn’t anyway.
venti set down his cup. “what do you mean? after a long night of playing, i’m reaping my rewards. what reason do i have to be sad?”
kaeya tipped out his glass for charles to refill, sending him a nod of thanks before turning back to him. his eye skipped over his features, never landing on one for too long: the flower in his cap, the dimness of his eyes, the grip on his glass, all picked up and turned over and assessed.
he drew a conclusion, taking a soft sip of wine. “i don’t know, venti. you tell me.”
what reason did he have to be sad?
by all accounts, tonight was a good night. he’d made quite a bit of mora, he was having a nice drink, he’d turn in a bit earlier than usual and wake up with the sun, feeling the air warm around him as he roamed the city’s dawn. nothing large, or awful, or tragic. nothing… nothing.
ventis eyes slipped, falling to the ice on the captain’s hip, to the peacock he couldn’t see, but the glitter he could feel. the sheen of heaven that dusted the calvary captain’s presence, lending him that much more credibility.
he found kaeya’s eye again, catching himself, but it didn’t matter. the humor had already dulled, understanding flashing back at him.
in the city of wine and song, mondstat’s archon indulged in both.
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Can we just talk about venti in this years windblume???
Venti is such a simp for the traveler and you can't change my mind!
- JUST look at the picture (above), the way he looks at the traveler!!! It's full of warmth & love.
- The whole event, everytime the traveler talks to him, he asks them if they could spend time together.
- "Care to have a drink with me?" "You want me to buy you this drink.. right now??"
- "We could have a love poem class again, buut it's just the two of us?"
- "Come & find me again once you're done with the prophesy"
- And the poem in the end?? Am I the only one who thought he described traveler in this poem?? venlumi
You can bet I WILL write something on this event! A venti x reader one!
( @ to the artist! Let me know if I should take it down! )
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venti is absolutely bubbly, friendly and cheery. he has a beautiful, magnetic personality that brings people together even as he remains kind of on the periphery once synergy is occurring. he is the air. he is the atmosphere that allows for the light.
but like any air, he can be chilly. he can be sharp. maybe not always, maybe not immediately. and he is not the type to force people to do his bidding. he is different. he is the air. you are already breathing him in before you understand what is happening.
piss him off and he is not unkind. down to his core he is loving and playful. but piss him off and he turns into the brisk atmosphere of above. he is the air. he will decide you deserve silly and subtle, yet sharp, quips. he will decide you deserve the apathy of a still, windless, harsh summer's day. he will decide to let his absence, his silences, his magnitude speak for itself.
he is not fire. he is not even really ice, though that's closer. he is air.
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