just-a-new-gi-writer - Tumblr blog

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

"Creator Reforged" is (chef's kiss) concise and yet Exactly What It Says On The Tin lmao, big brain! Poor Sucrose in Ch7 tho: she must be traumatised too, for lack of better description.

Oh oh! May I send an ask for the Follower Special? How would the acolytes react to a creator who crochets/knits/sews them various clothes and accessories? I feel like Childe would appreciate (and definitely smugly show off) any scarves or coats you make him lmao??? Liyue has nobles and society stuff, so maybe when Ningguang or the other Qixing wear trinkets/shawls that the Creator made, there'd be similar clothes in fashion? Inazuma and Sumeru seem pretty big on textiles (Silk, Cotton, maybe Wool/Fur?) so would they be smug at their textiles being featured in some of the creator's works??

Also, just a last thing: your writing style ABSOLUTELY gives off shounen light novel vibes. It's honestly perfect for Genshin, imo.

Yeah, no one in that situation is really in their best mind at that point. Albedo, Sucrose, and the reader are all likely not thinking straight. (Hopefully going to get back to work on it soon...)

And thank you for the compliment! I'm honestly not all that familiar with shounen light novels, but I hope that the eldritch/weird moments that undergird party of my writing don't distract too hard.

A/N: Getting back on the wagon. ...And I let myself stray to an adjacent yet (in my opinion) equally interesting version of the Creator. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7k

CW: None?

Masterpost

taglist @iyohme

The night in Liyue was young. Though the furthest edge of the sky still wore the faintest remnant of the day’s glory, the rest of the sky glammered with pearlescent stars, crowned with a nearly full moon, and bounded in the north where an azure comet tugged at the sky as it fell.

Far below these celestial sights, the opulent city of Liyue slumbered, nestled between its towering mountains and perched beside the tranquil sea. Uncountable lanterns burned quiet and low, illuminating the streets just enough so the guards could patrol yet low enough to allow the citizens to rest.

Though the thousand hands of the industrious city lay low, not all of the city was asleep. In the city’s main hall, where the highest matters of state and commerce were conducted by words and contracts, through coins and goods, by bribes and threats, different kinds of activity were taking place. Heads of states, merchants, nobles, and the like from nearby Sumeru, Inazuma, Fontaine, and a few from even further afield, met and socialized with each other. They forged and renewed acquaintanceships, sought new avenues of commerce and trade, discussed and reviewed new discoveries and theories.

The event there was in full swing. Chandeliers with ornate carvings in Cor Lapis diffused amber light across the whole room. People clustered around the room, conversations flowing as freely as the drinks. The front of the hall was dominated by a stained glass relief of the Creator, The Forge of Days. Though no light filtered in through the myriad colors, the veiled image of Her figure seemed to glow with its own glorious light.

Gathered at the front of the room were piles of gifts and offerings. In years past, they would have been iron and copper, silver and gold, crystals with shimmering hues and gems with an unfathomably deep color.

But recently, their Creator had undergone a change of hobbies. The hands of The Forge rarely sat idle, but the items She created would change with her interests. For months, Her hammer and tongs sat idle, Her billows quiet, and Her fires cold. She’d found a new craft to occupy Her hands for a while, and the people followed Her whims.

A different bounty had been gathered tonight at her feet: bolts of cloth in all kinds of dyes and textures, spools of thread in every color imaginable, skeins of yarn that seemed to glimmer with gold spun into their material. These, the people hoped, would gather Her attention and affection enough to be worthy of receiving a gift from Her in turn. Though She chafed at formalities and ceremonies, these She would bear to see Her creations given.

Tonight, there was no shortage of people gathered to show off the artifacts that She had personally forged, crafted, or spun and then given so generously. It was hard to miss the heads of state and important nobles- Ningguang was garbed with plenty of jewelry of gold and amber and topaz. Keqing kept at her side, displayed prominently, a sword forged of impossibly sharp steel and inlaid with awe-inspiring arrangements of Inazuman amethyst.

Few were arrayed so brilliantly as them, but one person stood taller and prouder than both. In the middle of a group of weary and exasperated onlookers, a peculiar Snezhnyy man bragged about and paraded off his new gift. Tartaglia was not much loved by the people of Liyue- connections to the Fatui tended to do that- but showing off the new turquoise scarf generously pooled around his shoulders, studded with constellations of pearl stars, strained the patience of most.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Afong?” Tartaglia chided a merchant who finally had enough of him and tried to leave, “Can’t stand the sight of someone who has one of Her new styles? What do you have, just a tarnished, old bracelet? I think She’d be embarrassed to see that old thing in public! It’s probably for the best that She tosses that dull thing back into the furnace and starts over from scratch.”

A small, timid voice came up behind him, “Tartaglia, isn’t that enough?” He spun on his heel to see who spoke up, the half-adeptus Ganyu. She was carrying a tray of food in her arms which clearly had a wide selection. “You’re going too far with what you’re saying.”

“Listen, Цилинь,” Childe plucked one of the morsels from her tray, something skewered on a wooden pick, “talk to me when Her Grace decides to visit you with something noteworthy. I can tell,” he gestured down to the arm he could see, “that She gave you some pity. I remember hearing about that meager ring She made, Her last product before turning her sights to Her new craft.” He eyed the ring set with an aquamarine gem, then slid his gaze to what sat on her wrist. “But I didn’t hear about that.”

A dainty, delicate work of lace lay barely hidden under her sleeve, like a fine layer of ice had been worked around her wrist. While many would merely overlook it, it contained many curious details the likes of which would only be seen with Her handiwork- notably, the centerpiece of it was a recreation of Ganyu’s vision- frame, cryo symbol, even the subtle cracks and chips were represented through Her handiwork.

“The Forge of Days generously gifted it to me.”

“An early work of hers, probably. Most likely, she made it to familiarize herself with the craft, getting the early failures out of her system.”

“Did Her Diligence make a single weapon for you?”

There was a momentary flash of anger on his face- the first anyone had seen that night. It was quickly gone, but Ganyu had turned and left before she could notice. She heard another conversation haltingly spin up as she walked away, before fading into the noises of the party.

Ganyu left the party, following a familiar path of hallways as the sounds behind her began to become muddled and indistinct under the weight of their echoes. She turned a few corners, passing various shrines placed to honor and venerate the Adepti, mostly, but also the other benevolent beings who shared the region with the city and who helped guide its people in the past. Designed to impress and show off Liyue’s splendor like the main hall, there was little expense spared for these collections as well.

She slowed, then came to a stop. She was nearly on the other side of the building from the main hall, and her surroundings looked like it. This space was dominated by a large door formed of wood and metal, something that looked more at home in the industrial sections of the city, not here among the shrines. The walls and floor here were dirty- darkened soot seemed to almost grow on any available surface and the air was thick with the smell of earth and fire.

To a place built to celebrate the divine and the supernatural beasts that crowned this corner of the earth, this seemed wildly out of place. But Ganyu, among other important people in Liyue’s governing bodies, knew the truth of this location.

Ganyu balanced her tray on one hand and reached out to one of the enormous door handles. It took a bit of force, but the doors began gliding open, ethereally and unearthly quiet. She passed through the doors and began descending the stairs below, each one decorated with a different pattern of golden crystals that glowed in a circle around anyone walking down them. To Ganyu, it looked like the steps were being cast from the darkness just steps ahead of her as she descended. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she heard the doors behind her gently close by themselves, a soft but unmistakable noise through the space she just entered.

And what a space it was.

Lit by larger clusters embedded in the walls, not too dissimilar to those on the stairs, the room was a crafter’s dream. Uncountable machines of industry filled the space, of every type and make, most repaired by hand after their user damaged them from overuse or overapplication of force. They were distributed about the room by trade- over there sat the forge, its bellows quiet and the stockpiles of coal, iron, silver, gold, and countless other metals full and ready; there rested every tool one needed to hew art and purpose from any stock of lumber one chose; there rested 

And through the middle of it all, and under the low dais in the center, ran a stream, to quench and cool the products of the forge, to supply the (currently disengaged) mechanisms with power.

And sitting there on that dais, bathed in light from a ring of crystals suspended over Her head, surrounded by an impressive array of tools and stock of materials all at Her fingertips, the Creator moved with impressive speed. Her hands flew from one movement to the next, a blindingly fast dance between Her fingers, the tools, and the dress that She was weaving on the mannequin in front of Her.

Ganyu set the tray down on a nearby table that wasn’t totally overrun with supplies and materials, pushing a few bolts of cloth out of the way. She carefully stepped through a field of bobbins, careful not to upset or step on any. As she approached the Creator, she wondered if She had actually noticed her. “Pardon?” She tried to get Her attention, stretching a hand out to Her shoulder. “Burning Forge–?”

The Forge of Days suddenly snapped out of the way, Her head whirling around to glare at Ganyu, Her eyes burning a brilliant yellow-white from the focus on Her activity. Her glare was uncomforting on the best of days, but when She wielded it like this, Ganyu could almost feel the heat of the forge pouring on, through, and around her. She could feel some of her hair begin to singe.

Ganyu took a step back, covering her face. “M-My apologies! Ningguang only wanted me to check on You!” The heat began to bleed away from her, quickly dropping to a simmering heat. When Ganyu risked a glance, she found Her back at Her craft, continuing to weave like She hadn’t been interrupted. “I wanted to check in on you as well. I know it’s quiet down here, and I know you don’t like crowds–”

Her Industriousness made a noise of frustration as she pulled the last of the yarn taut. She spun in place, planting the hook in the dress, then grabbed a plain knife and walking (at a speed that should have been called running) over to a spinning wheel. She began gathering up Her hair in large handfuls, then cutting them off with quick, clean cuts of the knife.

As quickly as She had turned away from Ganyu, the heat had faded away; only the memory of the warmth remained. Ganyu winced to see Her shear so much of Her hair off so carelessly, but she knew there was a method behind Her actions. As She stopped in front of the spinning wheel, She set the knife aside and began turning the spinning wheel, arcs of magical light started being cast from it as it spun faster and faster. When the arcs began to connect into circles, She fed Her hairs into it one at a time, and began winding the resulting golden thread around an empty bobbin.

Ganyu took the moment to look the dress over now that the Weaver of Fates was away from it. The beautiful garment looked like it was painstakingly constructed- the various materials made it look like it was spun from the condensed light that shimmered over Liyue harbor every morning, the angles and sections of construction chosen to mesh with each other so seamlessly. With how She had woven it all together, it felt like the dress was creating itself, like it was destined to simply be.

Thinking back to the excruciating minutiae of measurements that She had made of her body (after she found the demand from her Creator carved on a slab of iron which was unceremoniously deposited on her working desk…), part of her hoped that it would turn out this beautiful.

As she looked back at the spinning wheel, she caught The Forge feeding the last of her liberated hairs into the wheel and loading the last of the thread onto an overloaded bobbin. She snapped it up in one hand and turned back to the mannequin to continue her work.

It was now or never. Her Industriousness hated being interrupted.

“Your Grace?” Ganyu started speaking before She could set down the bobbin. “I was just thinking about you. I know you don’t like social events, and they’d prepared so much for the party- I thought you’d appreciate me bringing you a sample of what they had.” Ganyu began talking faster as she started threading the needle. “I-I made sure to grab some of your favorites as well, and I wanted to…”

She eventually stopped herself. If Her Unending Warmth wasn’t interested in something, it was basically guaranteed to be a futile struggle to get Her to cooperate. None in all Teyvat could match Her strength and endurance, let alone Her abject stubbornness.

Ganyu turned to leave. “I… I should go. I should see if they need me upstairs again. I’ll–” She barely took a few steps before suddenly being stopped. Turning around, she saw that the Creator had lunged towards her to grab on to her, Her incredibly strong and calloused grip, able to crush stone and deform iron, gently but firmly wrapped around her arm.

She looked up and saw The Forge’s face, one that was so used to its grim and steadfast glare that its current one, creased with worry, almost looked unfamiliar. The light in Her eyes was still bright, but had cooled to an orange glow.

“…Stay.”

The single word croaked from Her throat, gravely and unclear from disuse. It was incredibly rare for Her to speak- it was said that lifetimes could come and go without her making so much as a single utterance.

“–! …Alright, I’ll stay here with you.”

Her Grace let go of her breath and the room seemed to warm. She released Her grip on Ganyu, who slipped off to find two chairs that could easily be decluttered and dragged over to the table.

“…For all the work Your Industriousness does, I’m surprised You don’t do more to keep things tidy down here.” She moved an armful of cloth up onto a table, where it likely would be a hazard later on. “But I’m sure no one complains because they just like it when You make things on time.” She struggled to maneuver herself and the chairs around all the other clutter, but Her Grace managed to move through it with surprising, well, grace.

“There.” Ganyu set the two chairs down and it wasn’t long after She sat that She popped the lid off the tray and grabbed two different treats, offering the smaller one to her. She gave Her a light punch on the shoulder (that likely only hurt herself) then accepted it. After She started biting into the delicacy, Ganyu saw the light in Her eyes had dimmed further into a reddish glow, the natural steel gray beginning to show through near Her pupils.

The Forge labored many long hours to hone Her craft and produce all kinds of goods. Ganyu figured it was best to let Her rest for a while.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

Sorry to ask, but is this account alive? Don't see any posts after Nov 2022

I'm sorry, everyone. I'm trying. I'm having to work against my ADHD interests and, while those pushed me to start working on plenty of projects, it's frustratingly easy for the motivation to slip away when I'm not paying attention. Sometimes it's more explicable- taking time off to deal with a health issue- and sometimes it's less so- spending time working on my other projects when I haven't even touched this in so long.

I know it's frustrating for you all- believe me, it's frustrating for me as well that I keep letting this happen. I started losing some momentum when I hit a writer's block in my main SAGAU story (over an incredibly dumb detail...) and it spiraled out from there. I'll try and get myself unstuck and work on things from there.

Thank you all for your patience with me. I'll try and make your faith in me worth it.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

LMFAO that Diplomacy game seems like a mix of D&D and Monopoly. It is so fucking awesome and epic. Cant wait to see part 2. Big oof and capital F on the chat for Yae Miko. Makes me wonder how a game between the archons would go lmaoooo

Diplomacy is an actual game, though I tried adapting it a bit for the story. It's just been on my mind lately, and when the anonymous asker requested a game that destroyed friendships, it made perfect sense to me.

Yeah, poor Yae, and poor Childe before her. I think the moral of the story was "don't simp for the creator within earshot of the other players".

A game between Archons would be a completely different story than what I wrote. From the four that we've seen so far, Nahida would likely be the strongest player to start, what with her being the Archon of wisdom and having her history with 'All Schemes to Know'. Murata and the Tsarista would likely be strong contenders too. I would count Zhongli among them, but given his years of being idle (and the fact that the agreements are verbal only and with there being no way to cement deals), I'd consider him one of the weaker players alongside Venti.

Ei would probably play way too defensively until she gets bumped off the board, likely by Nahida. Venti could likely hide his own goals from the other players, but I can't see him pulling anything off against another player.

Focalors is likely frustrated and wouldn't want to play, either because she isn't playing the GM and judging orders or because someone just played her and she can't retaliate.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

As interesting as it would be to see how the situation in Inazuma would continue for Ordained Orders, I think I would personally love to see how the other nations treat their respective boards. It would be interesting to figure out they each carry out the Creator's supposed will and blessings by words, as well as how each acolyte reacts to more personal messages haha. This is the same anon who requested it btw

Ah! Good to hear your opinion on the matter; I've been leaning towards exploring the other nations myself. I've been planning out how the different nations receive the Creator's guidance and, uh, I've been taking- let's just say- generous interpretations of the phrase "message board", even moreso than Inazuma's living tree board that eats offerings, grows paper, and seeps ink.

...You know, the more I think about it, the more I kinda realize that the "message board is literally just a tree" should have been more of a Sumeru thing.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

Hi! I saw you were new to tumblr and thought I'd say hello!

My request is for a different type of sagau that isn't very popular, unfortunately (I think) it's basically where the imposter is arrogant, spoiled, and above all else- abusive. Incredibly so. Anyone who gains their favor faces severe abuse in multiple ways (Minus sexual) and are essentially tortured on a daily basis. The servants are all beaten for the tiniest mistakes, and not even the archons can escape such a hell. (They're not borderline masochists in this au either. Idk if it would be accurate to say they aren't yanderes entirely, but they're not to the same extent as other versions of sagau. They can still feel the PTSD effects of abuse and feel terror) And the imposter has been in control for thousands of years now.

Poor Venti has gone completely mute and is almost a shell of his former self because of this as he is an (unfortunate) favorite of the imposters to abuse. Even Zhongli and Ei can't help but feel bad for their old friend and try their best to ease his pain. It doesn't help.

Then, eventually, everyone becomes unable to take the suffering brought upon by the imposter anymore and overthrow them, finally allowing them to rebuild their lands. Until one day, someone with the same face as the imposter is spotted and everyone panics.

Many believe they are the imposter themselves returning to take revenge, so they are terrified and confused when all the MC shows them is kindness. Luckily, MC is also a licensed therapist, so when they realize what happened to everyone, they are able to help them take the steps necessary to heal. (Since they believe MC is the og imposter, they believe they have no choice but to accept them out of fear for what MC might do)

The request is: MC learns all of this the hard way when they innocently ask Venti to perform for them, believing it will help. Unfortunately, it instead sends him into a borderline panic attack and visibly terrified of their every move, reacting as if they are about to hit him while MC is left confused. (They do recognize that Venti is afraid of being hurt though)

Sorry I made it so long, I'm not really good at summarizing and thought I should include details for the specific version of this au. The original had MC still getting hunted down before the imposter was thrown out but I didn't want that so this one has them arriving and getting accepted pretty easily but for the wrong reasons. On a side note what do you think would be a good name for this side au of sagau? I'm planning on sending more requests in the future to you and other writers so I'd like a name to make it easier to describe the au I'm talking about. I can't come up with anything on my own. Don't worry if you can't think of anything though, it's not important.

-🐈‍⬛ anon

Hi. Thank you for putting in the effort to put all this down and thank you for thinking of me, but this kind of prompt and this kind of AU do not work for me at all. I'm not comfortable writing characters broken from abuse like you describe, and I can't conceive of a world where a torturous imposter creates a populace that is willing to overthrow them but scared stiff of the MC. Given my style of writing focuses on verisimilitude and world building, this basically leaves your request and AU dead in the water.

Feel free to send me asks in the future, but I kindly ask that you do not send me anything relating to this AU again.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

My ever-helpful beta reader, @Naxigale, is currently doing commissions! Contact her on her Tumblr if you'd like to know more about it.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

So About "Ordained Orders"...

The story was very popular and I remember getting a few requests for a part 2. So I want to ask, what do you readers want to see for part 2?

Did you want a continuation of the situation in Inazuma, or did you want me to talk about how this message board works in the other nations? I could seriously do/see either going forward, but I want to see what you're all interested in.

On a different note (and while I'm asking y'all), the Traveler's going to eventually make an appearance in Creator Reforged, but I haven't decided if it's going to be Aether or Lumine; which would you like to see?

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

How about the Acolytes playing different friendship-breaking games like Monopoly, Uno, Ludo, and some sort of non-digital version of Mario Party? Lmfao imagine them squeezing into ridiculous-looking race karts for a live Mario Kart. Or perhaps an obstacle course to resemble Fall Guys challenges. Everyone has no plans of losing because the prize is a date and a guaranteed romantic kiss from the Creator, the lil shit that proposed this silly Teyvat Olympics.

A/N: Welp, this is one of those times where the story kinda got away from me again. This one's a two-parter, so I'll finish it later on.

Word Count: 2668

CW: None?

Masterpost

taglist @iyohme

=== === ===

It had all started so simply.

During a meeting you were dragged to with a handful of business leaders in Liyue (where they bowed and scraped and tried to cultivate your favor), you introduced them to a game you liked: Diplomacy. You thought it would have been a good fit for them- strategic thinking, cooperation, learning how long to trust people. It took a bit of setup to create a map that would work and it took a while to remember and relay the rules to the different players, but as soon as they understood the rules, they began digging into the game and exploring the layers of complexity underneath it all.

You quickly saw alliances form and melt, deals get made and backstabs performed, promises made and broken. It was all in good fun, they each knew, and all part and parcel of the game and how it played; something their Creator enjoyed and wished to share with them.

The night came to a close, and the business leaders returned to their homes. The next day, they returned to their businesses, bringing the game with them and spreading the rules to whomever was interested. By the end of the week, it had spread north to Mondstadt, crossed the sea to Inazuma, and reached the Akademia’s halls. By the next, it had taken root in those places and spread like wildfire among the population.

It was many different things to the people. For most, it was a fun diversion. For some, it was a problem to be cracked and analyzed, something to theorize over and experiment with. For others, it was a means to use their diplomatic skills, to promise, probe, and plead, to balance, barter, and betray.

It could have been left there. It could have just been a fad that might have burnt itself down to a simmer some time later.

But you had to make that one innocent comment.

In Mondstadt, a game was brewing between a few individuals of poor rapport. Diluc, Kaeya, and Jean stood against a few Fatui agents, each side assured that they had the best player. Three against two, they set about searching for the last two players they’d need for a full game. Childe was talking to you when they asked him to join.

“I couldn’t,” he raised his hands defensively and dismissed Jean’s offer. “Really, I’m not interested.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow, “Why not? Don’t you have a reputation to uphold?”

He smiled but shook his head. “Were it a different kind of combat, Your Grace, there would be no chance for me to turn it down.” He took a sip of his drink. “I’m more the tactical than the strategic type.”

“Anyone could win,” you said. “Tell you what. You show me a good game and win, and I’ll do you a little favor.”

Childe froze, the cup falling from his hands and the drink spilling over the table. He shoved his chair back and turned as he stood, marching over to the few people setting up the board, slamming his hands on the table. “Count me in.”

He lost, horribly. He barely managed to last four turns before a coalition of Jean, Diluc, and one of the Fatui agents wiped him off the board. The game continued with Childe sitting on the sidelines and glaring at the one agent that betrayed him, the victor was found and celebrated, but that playful promise of yours planted another, more dangerous seed.

When the game of Diplomacy spread throughout Teyvat, smaller tournaments blossomed shortly afterward, to find the best of the players in each nation. A few enterprising individuals came up with the idea to host an international tournament, one that drew from southeastern Teyvat. While it boasted a hefty Mora reward for the highest-placed victors, the real prize was the prestige of being the uncontested winner of the Creator’s game.

And then you had to insinuate that you might personally reward the overall winner.

If your game spread like wildfire, you may as well have doused all of Teyvat in gasoline.

The past energy which people had before paled compared to the newfound desire to chase after even the slimmest chance of the Creator’s pure attention, rumored though it may have been. These last games burned with fervor and conviction that few had seen before, refining the pool of players from scores to dozens, then to the handful of furious semi-finals, from which the seven finalists emerged.

And today, the champion would be determined. The host, the state of Liyue, had spared no expense for this final game. The same building in which you had first shared your game had been secured to host the finals. The map was printed on gold-lined silk, each region painted in rich, vibrant pigments, lavishly detailed and seemingly rising off from the sheet. The counters for the different nations’ armies and navies, hand carved from priceless gemstones and inlaid with gold.

Spectators slowly filtered in as the start time drew near. Nobles, aristocrats, and merchants from Monstadt to Sumeru (and some from further afield) flocked to watch the match play out and gathered that morning. Many took the chance to socialize and build connections but many more hoped to catch the eye of their Beloved Creator that morning.

You were brought to the hall while the sun was still rising; only you, Adjudicator of Fates, could suffice to usher such an important game. You were ushered in with the warmest welcomes from all parties and highest fanfare, paraded around to the different important peoples: sages from Sumeru, nobles and their scions from Mondstadt, you even had the fortune to meet the Yuheng and the Raiden Shogun themselves before being ushered to your seat, in the middle of the side of the table.

Each of the invited nations showed off their own players and allowed them to take their seats: first Jean, who would play Mondstadt, sat off to your left, then Diluc, playing Natlan. Next was Yae Miko playing Inazuma, then Ayaka playing Snezhnaya. Alhaitham sat opposite you and played Sumeru. Finally, the players from Liyue entered, the most lavishly-dressed of the players: Yelan, playing Fontaine, sat to your right; and Ningguang, playing Liyue, sat to your left.

As the players took their seats, Keqing stood and addressed the crowd, welcoming them all and thanking them for their presence. She thanked the tournament organizers for their work on the events, past and present. Lastly, she turned to you and thanked you for sharing this game with them and allowing them to partake in its joys and sorrows. Her thanks given, she declared the finals to have begun.

The game entered its first phase and the players broke to meet with each other and plan their alliances. Everyone scrutinized who went to talk with who, which people the other players wanted to speak to, and how the dealings were going. Jean took Yelan aside and tried to make some earnest dealings with her, Alhaitham argued with Ningguang, and Diluc and Ayaka spoke with each other, hidden off in their corner of the board. Yae Miko sat back and kept an eye on the dealings, keeping secret just who she was eyeing as an ally or a target.

As discussions broke down between Ningguang and Alhaitham, Yae rose and asked to have a word with the latter. Ningguang went to request Jean’s ear, then Yelan tried to make a deal with Ayaka. On and on the diplomatic dance went until the time for the first round was called and the players returned to their seats to submit their orders.

You read, adjudicated, and executed the orders, shuffling the armies and navies across the map. The players eyed each move in turn, sometimes glaring at another player when a deal failed to materialize.

The second round of discussions quickly started, Alhaitham angrily pulling Yae aside, Jean hurrying over to speak to Yelan. Ningguang, without anyone to immediately turn to and make deals with, went to speak with Diluc and Ayaka.

The diplomatic maneuvers continued, and even you could start to see the lines being drawn. The drag-out four-way war between Sumeru, Inazuma, Liyue, and Mondstadt was in full swing: Liyue was fighting with Mondstadt and Sumeru over their border cities while Inazuma was looking for any opening to exploit, but Jean was trying to break the stalemate by getting Fontaine to commit an army. On the other corner of the board, Natlan, Snezhnaya, and Fontaine had some token battles, but the first two were otherwise beginning to encroach upon the rest of the board.

The diplomatic plays ended and the orders were submitted. Again, you dutifully relayed the orders and played them out.

The minute you finished shuffling the pieces around with your divine powers, comments between the players started flying.

“Jean,” Alhaitham looked at her pieces, speaking quite openly, “I find your stance towards Yelan quite curious. I thought you said it was in your best interest that we build our forces against Ningguang.”

Jean cleared her throat. “A strong accusation, considering you rebuffed that plan of mine. You said she was working with Guji Yae, but now that it’s clear that the latter is trying to steal a foothold beneath our noses, we agreed–”

“Excuse you?” Yae cut in, “I offered quite amicable terms to you, as many eavesdroppers can attest. If you’re looking for a scapegoat, might I suggest the person who has been playing you both?” She glared at Yelan.

“Your age must be blinding you, Guji.” Yelan steepled her fingers. “Your intentions are clear, but there are far worse dangers on this board–”

Ningguang interrupted her. “Worse than you violating our agreement to keep Huaguang clear? You should know better than to violate trust.”

“Yes, even worse than you saying you were willing to strike into Wolvendom on false pretenses.” Yelan turned to the two players on her right. “Our two dear players of Natlan and Snezhnaya are being quite quiet and chummy with each other.”

“Now, now,” Diluc said, “just because we’re not engaging in the madness of the eastern side of the board is no reason to throw accusations.”

“We would like to assure you,” Ayaka added, “that you all have plenty enough on your plates. Is it quite wise to send accusations so blindly?”

“I’m not sending empty accusations,” Yelan said, her voice sharpening, “I’m saying you two clearly have an alliance and are planning to sweep the board. We need to band together to–”

“Certainly not! See, we’re struggling over these border regions- quite difficult to be allied while you’re fighting each other.”

Ningguang interrupted, talking to Yelan. “I think it’s clever how you deflected criticism over your double-dealing with Alhaitham and Jean.”

“And I think it’s beginner-level squabbling,” Alhaitham said, “trying to deflect attention like that. Did you promise Windrise to Guji Yae for her help?” He looked over at Yae. “Sorry to say, I don’t think Ningguang is a sharing type. Might I suggest–”

“Really, Alhaitham?” Yae smiled at him. “Letting a little early-game betrayal get to you? I’d suggest not letting those crumbling alliances hurt your poor feelings too much. Might I suggest growing yourself some thicker skin?”

Jean stood up. “And might I suggest that you stop provoking everyone around you! You promised that you would help me past Dragonspine, yet now you’re playing nice with Ningguang!”

“Not to mention,” Alhaitham added, “that you made a similar offer to me, then started attacking me out of the blue. Watch, you’re going to start probing the Guili Plains soon enough, aren’t you? No one on the eastern coast can trust an Inazuma player.”

Yae laughed. “Oh, but do tell me how that front between you and Ningguang is going. Oh, that’s right, your little gambit south of the Chasm hasn’t exactly played out in your favor, has it? And you, Jean, darling, just stay in your corner of the board over there and let the more important nations play things out, yes?”

“Enough, Yae.” Ningguang sent her a glare. “Unless you have mastered the art of silent communication, it seems like you too lack strong alliances.”

“And you’re facing two fronts of conflict. If I don’t sweep in to secure those precious supply centers, you three will just keep swapping them back and forth to no end. Someone has to come out ahead in all this and it might as well be me.” She smiled as she looked in your direction. “I can already taste my victory and the sweetness of your lips.”

“Okay,” you cut in, “that’s enough time for the diplomatic phase. It’s time to write and submit orders.” You sat back in your chair. A productive diplomatic phase, all things considered! When an accusation or an agreement are just as important as moving a piece on the board, flying accusations are to be expected. Few can resist the allure of collecting all one’s allies to wipe an opponent from the board.

The turn passed mostly uneventfully. Skirmishes occurred, armies were forced back, territory changed hands. In the next diplomatic phase, though, there was a notable shift in tone between the characters. The players engaged more steadily with their allies; instead of a complex dance to test the waters, the lines were drawn on the battlefields- on the map and in their minds.

In the orders of that turn were the expected exchanges of Snezhnaya and Natlan, a concession of land from Mondstadt to Fontaine. But there was a further surprise- one of Alhaitham’s armies had been brought to Inazuma by Ningguang’s ships and captured a supply center on Watatsumi Island. When you read the orders aloud, it raised eyebrows from the other players on the board except one.

Yae Miko did not wear her usual smile the rest of that turn. When the players broke to discuss their next moves, she made a surprising choice of who to pull aside to deal with- Jean. They spoke in harsh, hushed voices. Deals were presented then discarded in short order until Yae said something that gave Jean pause.

You were intrigued and there were few in the audience, players included, that missed your interest. All eyes rested on those two players as they returned to the table and submitted their orders. You could feel things grow more tense as you read out the players’ orders one by one, until you read one of Ningguang’s fateful orders.

“Fleet in Central Line of Storms convoys Mingyun Village to Narukami Island.”

It only took a quick glance at the source province to confirm that the army counter was carved from aquamarine and belonged to Jean, not from Ningguang’s cor lapis. The room’s attention slowly turned to Yae and Jean.

Jean finished her drink and set her cup down, avoiding looking right at Yae. She spoke quietly. “I was offered quite amicable terms.”

The audience murmured and chuckled at her response, many likely having their own comebacks against the kitsune, but the rest of the orders were delivered to near apathy from the audience. Once a major betrayal began, there are few who could resist the allure of watching a player’s territory be devoured by their neighbors and erstwhile allies.

The last of Inazuma’s supply centers fell a turn later and with that, Yae Miko had lost.

As the turn ended, Keqing stepped forward and called for the game to pause- while things had just begun to turn interesting, they were out of time for the morning session. Lunch was ready to be served and few wanted to be kept waiting; besides, while many had come here to see the region’s finals of the Creator’s game, many more had come to vie for your attention.

The Yuheng took your arm after you rose and led you forward, the players following right behind, and the audience slowly following afterwards. Only Yae Miko remained sitting at the table, turning one of the amethyst counters in her hand.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

I came from the 100/200 Followers Event...

So, I was watching some Genshin AMV/GMV/MAD (however you may called it) and I got an idea...

What do you think about the reader showing the Acolytes GMVs or maybe some of the trailers? I especially would like to know the Archons reactions towards this video. Although it can be any videos and acolytes of your liking...

Thank you for reading this! I hope you have a good day!✨

A/N: I'm getting around to these things, I swear!

Word count: 2068

CW: depictions of trauma

Masterpost

taglist: @iyohme (Am I tagging the right person? Do you still want to be tagged? Please let me know.)

Zhongli had never been all that curious of an individual. He was more than happy to let certain curious things be than question their behavior or state. Entanglements like that usually got in the way of him leading his nation in the past and were sometimes no more than ploys by Venti to get his attention away from the Creator. Given that, he felt more comfortable pondering the curiosity you seemed to vest so much time into both when the acolytes were around and away, since it was no ploy by that Anemo Archon.

The first time he saw it, he was astounded at what it was- a handle-less rectangular hand mirror, the glass tinted so dark as to make its usage unfeasible. He wondered if Their Grace were checking Themself, ensuring everything was in place, but that wouldn’t explain the later times where they seemed to longingly gaze into its surface. It was quite a while later that he was able to see Them using it from a different angle- he had been chosen to provide the afternoon tea and managed to catch a glimpse of Them peering at Themselves- or so he had thought.

The surface of that curious item was shining brilliantly, like it were a star in the palm of Their hand, like it were a powerful scrying glass viewing into another world. He was almost able to catch a glimpse into what Their Grace was watching, but the illusion flickered away before he could recognize anything. Their Grace turned to face him, and he made a bit of light talk to get Their mind off the possibility that he were looking over Their shoulder.

In the days since, he’d idly considered the hand mirror in the quieter moments of the day, wondering what The Arbiter saw in it and why it drew Their attention so much. He could reach no concrete conclusion but figured that he wasn’t the only one to ponder this curiosity. Their Grace was soon to travel to Inazuma and he had the fortune to be Their attendant- though it wasn’t to his total pleasure, as he would have to deal with the drunkard bard not only vying for Their attention but causing general mayhem in Inazuma. A nuisance, to be sure.

And a nuisance he was, at least for a short while. The Raiden Shogun had graciously decided to have a few guards keep an eye on him when he was otherwise unsupervised. The disturbances in the city had mysteriously and suddenly declined, for some inexplicable reason.

Zhongli had pulled the Shogun aside one day, when both Their Grace and Venti were preoccupied with each other, and asked her if she knew anything about The Organizer’s strange hand mirror.

She considered the question. “…No,” she replied after thorough consideration, “I haven’t the slightest idea what it could be. I considered it to be one of those Kameras smuggled in from Fontaine for a while. I had wondered why the model was so small and thin until one of my handmaidens pointed out that the devices are still quite large and bulky. Unless Our Eternity is an inventor or tinkerer Themselves, I doubt they would have the interest in that sort of activity.”

“I considered it a strange looking glass, but its shape and size are… not standard. Not to mention that its surface is tinted…”

“A curiosity indeed.”

“I suppose there is one way to get an answer.” Zhongli led the way back to where the Creator and Venti were, finding the latter searching through his luggage and the former, luckily, pulling out the strange device. They were about to activate it when They noticed the two Archons’ arrival.

They gave a wonderfully warm smile. “Zhongli! Ei! Perfect timing. I wanted to show you three something, now that you’re all three in the same place.”

Zhongli was caught off guard. “–Oh?”

“Yes! Come on,” they patted the seats beside Themself, “I think you’ll love this!” They suddenly seemed to have second thoughts. “Well…”

“There’s no need to doubt Yourself, Orator of Order.” Zhongli took his seat to Their left. “I’m sure we’ll be delighted by whatever Your gift is.”

“Well, i-it’s not really a gift…”

“As Morax says,” Ei elegantly lowered herself down onto the cushion to Their right, “we will be pleased, whatever it will be, whatever form it shall take.”

“Then…”

“Besides!” Venti cut in from the other side of the room, before running straight at Their Grace and vaulting over the table, landing squarely on Their lap. “We won’t turn down an opportunity to spend time with you! Right?” He glanced at the two Archons around him before his face paled two shades whiter. “…R-Right?”

The Archons seated beside you glared down in distaste at the diminutive wind spirit in Their lap, making their displeasure towards his little stunt well known. Zhongli got his steel grip on the bard’s sleeve before They could intervene- “Anyway!” Snapping the strange hand mirror to attention and flicking it on, They stole the Archons’ attention, “Shall we? I think you’ll like the GMV!”

“‘GMV’?” Zhongli raised an eyebrow, “What do those letters–”

“Here we are!” A few taps and swipes upon its surface, and the shining mirror glowed. Faster than he could recognize anything the images on its surface seemed to blur past as They worked the strange device. The screen only showed a black field with a few blue speckles, overlaid with a white triangle. “Let’s begin!” One last tap, and the image began to change.

It took a few seconds for Zhongli to realize the hand mirror was emitting a song. By the time the thought registered, Venti had seen the screen advance- and reacted to what he saw by covering it entirely.

“Whoawhoawhoa, how’d you find–”

“Venti,” Their Grace pulled his hands away, “stop blocking the screen!”

Between the bard’s fingers, Zhongli made out an image of the bard, scantily dressed in a white cloth, before switching to one of Zhongli in one of his younger forms, then to one of Ei. For a moment, he wondered how depictions of each Archon had ended upon the strange device of Theirs, especially ones so antiquated and stylized, but dismissed the question- of course the Creator could access those snippets of history.

As the song began in earnest, Zhongli recognized the lyrics to be in Old Liyuean- a dialect a few centuries past. His skills in it were rusty from disuse, but he could still make out the words. He found it curious how the song seemed to be speaking to the three Archons- commiserating with Venti, then Zhongli, then Ei in turn.

As the song continued, extolling Venti’s virtues and goals, Zhongli grabbed the kettle and poured himself some tea. He was still listening to the song, to be sure, but he knew the bard did not need any further help creating more stories for himself. Furthermore, Venti would be the one Archon who already knows about any pieces of history regarding himself.

He brought his cup up during a brief break in the song, where a woman delivered a line, and afterward barely kept himself from dropping the cup in shock.

<Morax,> the deep, familiar voice of Azdaha rumbled, <if it is fated, we will meet again.>

Zhongli choked on his tea, the cup almost falling from his hands and clattering to the table. How? How was he hearing this? How did Their Grace know about his promise and place it here? How did it get replicated so perfectly? How was it playing here and now?

And… why?

His disbelief lingered through the next piece of the song. Something about Venti and his dragon, something about Ei losing her companions. He could barely register the images and lines about him through the shock, of how one’s old comrades can only be found in memories. 

The next lines brought him back to reality. “Love you, who sculpts spears to subdue the raging ocean/ Love you, who wanders the land with adepti at your side.” Thanks, adorations… given by the Creator to him? “Love your thousand years of vigilance/ Over your corner of the world.” Complicated emotions bloomed in Zhongli’s chest. The Creator praising him? Why, over those things he had done so long ago, and especially during those times where he doubted The Forge’s creation and The Shaper’s ways?

“Mourn those who change form to voice their sorrows,” the song continued, “Mourn those who are forgotten by mortals”. Zhongli knew these commands all too well personally- to see the world leave behind those he knew, to see them fall into the waste bin of history and hear their names turn from fond remembrance to distant memories to myths and lore, the people wholly disconnected and scarcely believing the original person’s existence. How much longer would Liyue, and Teyvat beyond, remember him? How much longer would the Creator?

“Mourn the memory of dust and the fragrance of flowers,” the song drove the questions further into the parts of his heart that he thought had long hardened.

“Where are those old friends now?”

‘Only in memories,’ he knew; only in the fading ink of dusty tomes; only in scattered poems, unrecited for the shame.

“Will you go? Are you worthy?” Zhongli subconsciously eased the grip on his cup. Was he worthy? Should he have gone with those who had gone ahead? All the sudden, this one song, this one question, had shaken centuries, if not millennia of acceptance of his situation- so, so many of his peers he had been left behind.

Was he wrong? Was Their Grace judging him?

“But we will fight,” the song moved on, bringing Zhongli with it, “We will/ For the prosperous dreams/ For the old friends and enemies of the last thousand years.” He felt a small spark settle within himself, something of hope. Was Their Grace speaking well of him? Were They now trying to rally his spirit and will? Were they–

“Returning to old haunts to lament the taste of wine.”

He blinked a few times as the line seemingly struck him across the face. Did it–? Why did it–? Why stop and take the time to–?

He brought a hand to his face, now seemingly able to see the situation anew. This song was not an admonition of him and his actions (how could he ever have come to that conclusion?!), it was a celebration of each of the Archon’s lives and legacies, of their achievements and tribulations. Their Grace wanted to share that They were there, with and watching over them all this time.

The song turned to Ei, talking about her history and actions. Zhongli could not help but smile. This whole time, the answer had been staring him in the face, how could he have been so blind to miss it? Maybe he had been letting himself get too lost inside of his own thoughts.

The last notes of the song faded out, Venti spun around to adulate the Creator. “That was amazing! I… didn’t understand it at all, but the photographs were beautiful! How did You capture those scenes? Did you take them Yourself?”

“N-no, I didn’t, I just–”

“I thought it was pleasant, Your Eternity,” Ei cut in, “I was not much interested in it to begin with, but I found myself warming up to it as it went on.”

Venti scoffed. “You were just interested in the stuff that dealt with you.”

“I would say that the parts pertaining to my nation and me would be more captivating than the idle goings-on of Mondstadt.”

“At least I don’t start civil–”

“Zhongli!” You clamped a hand over Venti’s mouth, “what did you think? Please tell me you have something to– Er, Zhongli?”

“It was beautiful,” he smiled and raised his cup, “truly, a tour de force of the gathered Archons and their lives. I don’t think I could cover the span of my thoughts on the matter in a full hour.”

Venti pushed your hand from his mouth. “Not that you need a reason to talk on and on…”

“Oh, should I, dear bard? You yourself love a good story, do you not?”

“Don’t get me started…”

Thousands of miles away, a lonely girl sat in her room, hugging a pillow to her chest.

“…Why,” Nahida mumbled to herself, “do I feel left out of something?”

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

100/200/300 Followers Event

Well, that certainly didn’t take long.

A recap, for those not in the know: I started a ‘request-the-writer’ event after I posted chapters 3a and 3b because I broke 100 followers. Four released chapters later, I broke 200. Another four chapters (reached before I release the previous two), and I have broken 300 followers.

Again, thank you all. I may not be such an important or prolific writer like others on this site, but thank you for letting me become important to you, nonetheless.

As before, I’m going to add five more slots to the event, first come, first served. Just send an ask with the prompt you would like to see.

Freezing Nights, requested by my ever-helpful beta reader, @naxigale

Kiss and Tell, requested by an anonymous reader

Asocialite, requested by an anonymous reader

Under the Shadows of War, requested by @voidlesslove

Ordained Orders, requested by an anonymous reader

Of Songs and Stories, requested by @thevictoriousmoon

Traitors in Our Midst, requested by an anonymous reader

[Reserved for an anonymous, to-be-dubbed, reader]

[Reserved for an anonymous reader]

[Reserved for an anonymous reader] 

Forge’s Dreams, requested by Iyohme

[Reserved for an anonymous reader]

[Reserved for an anonymous, to-be-dubbed, reader]

[Reserved for genshin-impacts-me]

[Open]

For my works, see the following Masterposts:

Creator Reforged

JaNGW side stories

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

Creator Reforged: Building God Chapter 7

A/N: I’ve come up with a tentative title for this series: “Creator Reforged“. Let me know what you think!

Word Count: 1278

Content Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of surgery/dismemberment

Masterpost

First  Prev

Taglist: @chihawari, @under-a-starry-night, @shadowfireblue, @brainless-gummy-bear,  @hiraya-rawr, @rogueofbullshit, @atsukawolfcat, @iyohme, @artificial-heartache, @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me, @thevictoriousmoon, @depressed-bitchy-demon, @sunni-the-sunflower, @queen-belial , @genshin-impacts-me, @vaerinri, @the-real-fandom-person, @saikiscleansink​

You could only watch in half shock as the spirited bard Venti all but marched out of the room with a wary Zhongli in tow, the latter only offering a humble “Your Grace” before taking his leave.

You wanted to sigh, if it were possible to control your breath. Great, now you were left with an unconscious man and a socially awkward woman who had great difficulty meeting your gaze.

“Sucrose,” you wheezed out, “could you please […] tell me what’s going on?”

She froze. “…About what, Your Grace?”

Well, everything, but you need somewhere logical to start. “What’s going on with […] all the titles? Who am I?”

She began to speak, but immediately hesitated. “…Y-Your Grace is the Creator. The C-Creator of Teyvat and all its inhabitants, who first breathed air and life into Your creation. You… oh, f-forgive me, Creator!” She shut her eyes tight as she hurriedly knelt in front of you. “T-th-this meager ac-acolyte is unworth-thy to r-remind The P-Perfect Harm-mony!”

Alright, let’s call this a subpar start. At least that… kind of confirmed what you suspected. They see you as a God, as a creator deit– Wait, what the Hell? What’s with this, you’re a normal person, not a God! What the Hell were these people on?

“Sucrose,” you wheesed, trying to catch her attention.

“Y-y-yes, L-Loving Wind?” She tilted her head up the slightest degree.

“I’m not a creator. I’m not […]”

Her head snapped up. “I–! Y–You–! With all due respect, Dearest Creator, that’s simply not true! T-t-tell me, how else can You explain how Mr. Albedo and I could st-st…” she paused, “st-stitch the dead back to life! It’s impossible!” She shut her eyes tight, tears beginning to form as she all but screamed, “How can You possibly hope to convince me that you are no God! You were delivered to this cabin in three pieces, Soaring Hope! I was there to help set Your head back to Your neck! ”

She crumpled to her knees, silent and clutching her arms to her sides. The two of you sat in silence for a few seconds, both sitting in shock over what she said. You arrived here in three pieces? Did something- or someone- hack you apart? No, that couldn’t be right, you were here, safe and alive… but you were paralyzed from the neck down, weren’t you? There remained the slimmest chance that she weren’t lying, and if she wasn’t…

A self-styled caretaker lying to your face and faking a mental breakdown, or you legitimately being torn apart by the neck and surviving… you didn’t know which possibility was worse.

“B-Breath and Light, please…” she slowly began to piece herself together, “please don’t do that to me again. I do not want to relive that horror again.”

“…I understand, Sucrose. I’m sorry.”

“N-n-no, Your Grace. I-I should be the one to apologize for the outburst.” She sniffed and wiped away a tear. “C-can we move on to s-something else? I-is there anything else you w-wish to have answered?”

You were hesitant to do so, but testing her felt unwise. “What’s been […] going on in…” you hoped this was the right word, “…Teyvat?”

Sucrose hesitated. “A lot. I-it started…” she rubbed her eyes, “weeks ago? It’s hard to remember exactly. B-but I was in Mondstadt City, aiding the Knights of Favonius when all of a sudden, th-there was this enormous earthquake, the likes of which have only been seen in Liyue or Inazuma. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured, but afterwards…

“Th-there’s no other way to describe it, Hewer of Fates. It was like You had torn the sky apart in retaliation and anger, o-or as though Teyvat were tearing itself asunder in sympathy and grief. The skies were… ripped open. All the stars fell from the sky. Not even the sun could bear our failures.

“From there, everything… got worse. No one was thinking straight. People acted on impulse, trying to ensure their own safety. So many stories filtered in from the nearby villages… so much suffering, so much death, so many tales of desperation.

“But how could we doubt those stories? We knew in our hearts it was happening in Mondstadt City itself.

“For a while, things continued getting worse. There were rays of hope: seeing the different people band together and help each other, openly share resources, and push back the dark tides of thought… but I don’t think anyone really thought that we were truly making progress, seeing any return to our lives before.

“And then… they found pieces of You in different parts of Mondstadt. Under Jean’s orders, they brought them here, to Mr. Albedo’s cabin, to put You back together. We’ve observed a few changes to the sky, but… we’re not quite sure they’re complete improvements. They keep growing day by day and it does seem to be like the sky before, but… we can’t really be sure. Mr. Albedo’s been too preoccupied with Your wellbeing to make significant observations about them.”

“What are they? What […] are you talking about?”

Sucrose paused. “The… Oh, they called them ‘sprites’ down in Mondstadt, but… they’re… they’re like the sky growing back. I’m s-sorry that I can’t tell you anything more about them.”

“It’s fine. […] How long was I out?”

“Hm?” She glanced up. “I… don’t know how to answer that, Your Grace. Should I measure it from when the catastrophes started? From when we found the pieces of Your body? From when the surgeries finished or Albedo started the transfusions? I don’t think I can give You a straight answer.”

You figured out what she meant by ‘surgery’, but… “‘Transfusion’?”

“Oh, there… wasn’t any blood in Your body. Albedo had been injecting some of his blood into You for the past few days, but he thought it would still be some time before You woke up. I’ve just been worrying about him overworking himself. But… still, it’s a miracle that you’re awake, Breath and Light.”

You paused, reminded of a question that you hadn’t gotten answered. “Sucrose.”

“Hm?”

“What’s with all the titles?”

“Huh? The–? Ah, Your Grace, those are… it would not be right for us creations to address You so… informally. You understand, it’s only proper to give the respect deserved, right?”

“…[Y/N].”

Sucrose flinched. “Your Grace?”

“My name. […] [Y/N]. […]”

She nervously swallowed. “I… I know that, Your Grace, but– I can’t.”

“Sucrose–”

“Please, Hope and Life,” Sucrose stood, “You should– You should get some rest, for Your sake. Recovering from what happened to You will not be easy, and You shouldn’t waste Your energy.” She turned to leave the room. “Please, don’t hesitate to call for me if You need anything.”

You watched her scurry off, an ashamed look on her face as she rounded the corner. You were… upset that you couldn’t get all your questions answered. For one, what was with her, refusing to simply call someone by their name? Surely no one in this world was too important to properly reference. What were they talking about, calling themselves ‘acolytes’? And what was with that voice you were hearing?

Wonderful. Of all the times for it to stay quiet…

You felt yourself begin to drift off; it was hard to stay awake, even as frightened and worried you were about… everything. Maybe it was the boredom over not being able to do anything. Maybe it was, like Sucrose said, the fact that you didn’t have too much blood circulating in your veins. Whatever the reason, you gradually found it harder and harder to fight back the tides of sleep, eventually slipping back into unconsciousness.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

A scenario in which Genshin has this message board similar to Animal Crossing where we can type anything we want. The Creator is mute and can only offer encouragements/praises by leaving cute lil love notes to the Acolytes on this particular message board. Thus, it is considered a sacred relic and all offerings are left here. The Creator, as a player, finds these offerings as a daily treasure box with random goodies lol. Acolytes chosen as vessels on that day always look forward to the...(1)

(2) …messages, especially since the Creator has a habit of changing up team comps and mains so nobody feels left out. It deepens both the rivalry and camaraderie amongst the vessels, especially when the Creator ends up getting a new character that deviates the supposed schedule (since they have to focus leveling up and testing that particular character on the field).

A/N: Enjoy!

Word count: 2000, exactly. I know, I'm surprised too.

CW: None

Masterpost

taglist: @iyohime

There was a welcome chill in the air as the two guards walked down the well-trodden path. A few leaves had begun to change their colors; it would not be long before the rest would follow suit. It was a quiet path, even though it was a well-known and well-traveled path. Dozens took this path out and around Inazuma City every single day, bringing their thanks, well-wishes, and gifts.

One of the guards was dealing with the last, carrying in his arms an elegantly carved cherry-wood lockbox, inlaid with amethyst and iolite. Every day, her Immortality gathered offerings, some from the noble houses, into boxes like these to be blessed by a priest and then sent down the path. It was rare for him to get a glimpse of the contents, but he’d seen them this morning. He did wonder why these things were being sent on- mushrooms, thieves’ insignias, rusted machine parts and smoldering cubes. He’d heard that yesterday’s offering had a beetle try to slip out from under the lid.

It wasn’t his job to worry about Their Light’s offerings, however. Ahead of him, the path made its final turn.

At the end of this famous path lay the humble shrine of the Creator, a pearl of Inazuma City. The nobles constantly fought against the Shogun, wishing to expand this shrine that sat so dear and close to Their heart, but time and again She rebuffed their efforts, keeping this place as such.

The low, red and white walls ringed the plot, a tall and wide gate sitting astride the few stairs up to the main area. Sitting as though built into the great sakura tree that dominated the place was the heart of the shrine- a bulletin board, crooked and cracked with age and wear but still standing, sturdy and strong. Paper grew from it, forming sheets and knots; ink occasionally seeped from the cracks, swirled around by an invisible force. Offerings were given at this shrine in the Creator’s honor, and if They were pleased, messages or orders would come loose from the board. This was the daily dealings that Inazuma and her Shogun did with their God.

Sitting all around the shrine were the gifts laid and structures built, either left by the Creator in distaste or taken in gratitude and sublimated into the great tree that dominated the shrine. Prayer slips illegible and jutting from the bark everywhere, fine jewelry being absorbed by errant branches, food being digested inside baskets woven from living roots.

The guards frowned as they approached the center of the shrine. There, like in any of the other days, sat the irregular sheet of paper the Creator had made for them that day, the one that they were tasked to retrieve for Her Eternity. But instead of a pristine paper marked with neat lines of characters, a stream of thick ink poured down its length, dripping into the pan that collected what fell from Their board. Before either of them could react, something on the board broke, sending several half-formed sheets, several malformed and knotted wads of paper, and the ruined orders tumbling down into the pan alongside a new burst of ink.

The two guards shared a glance. This had been happening with concerning frequency these days- what should have been a simple offer-and-receive turned into… this. The guard with the box went off to set the offerings down and retrieve yesterday’s container, freeing it from the day’s growth of branches while the other guard inspected the board more closely.

Advice for a marriage, encouragement to give things another try, admonishment for lying to a friend… the handwriting was all identifiable and identical, but nothing on the board looked like it was what he was supposed to look for. No official seal, no addressing of the Shogun or any of her major subordinates, nothing. It took a minute more of searching before he found something promising, folded inside of one of the sizable knots that broke earlier. Pulling the paper out and inspecting it, he realized it was what they were looking for.

Once he read it fully, he realized that it was but another harbinger of unrest.

There was an uncomfortable chill in the air. Kamisato Ayato and Guji Yae Miko outwardly sat calmly on opposite sides of the table, but everyone else in the room shifted their gazes between the two with visible unease. Not only were these two bright minds of Inazuma frequent foes, skirmishing over any minute detail that got in between them, the world had given them something new over which to lash out at each other- as well as those unfortunate to be in the same room. In fact, two of their frequent targets were in the room at that very moment.

With visible wariness and caution, Thoma set a steaming cup of tea in front of Ayato. Ayato glanced down, delicately grabbed it, and took a sip. “Thoma.”

He flinched. “Y-Yes, Waka?”

“Do you remember my order for tea?”

“Of course I–”

“What was it?”

“Black tea with a touch of milk–”

“And?”

Thoma sighed. “Waka, we both know that there weren’t any of those tapioca beads here. It’s an odd enough good that we had difficulty procuring them for the estate, how do you think they would stock those here?”

“Then perhaps my servants should have thought ahead, hm? Quite unwise to think of a beloved of the Creator like this.”

There was an unsettling chuckle, sending a chill down the spines of most of those in the room. “My my, little Ayato,” Yae Miko smiled behind a hand fan, “perhaps one should know how that Great One expects Their chosen to behave before admonishing others.”

“Oh,” Ayato laughed back, “a thousand pardons. I was just caught off guard, being chastised about ‘proper behavior’ by someone who must have the rite of penance memorized by rote.”

“How cute. Perhaps one might need a reminder about who was elected Their chosen first.”

“Perhaps one needs a reminder of who was chosen after putting their old, disused toys away.”

There was a sudden tinge of ozone in the air. “Do you think Their Grace has abandoned Their beloved? Come now, do you really wish to test that assumption?”

Another voice joined the conversation, one that had remained calm through the developing argument. “Now now,” Shikanoin Heizou looked up from his pile of snacks, “both of you back off; no sense in wasting your breath on each other. The Truth and Light can have more than one favorite, can’t They?”

Yae spared a glare his way. “Such a thing is easy to say for a simple mind that demands all of Their attention. Do you think no one found it odd that a certain someone necessitated a new set of artifacts? I just wonder what might possess a mind like that to claim that they ‘could not resonate’ with a set of artifacts that worked exceptionally well for everyone before them. Quite curious indeed.”

“For your information–”

The grand doors at the end of the hall slid open, revealing a simply-dressed attendant. The room quickly hushed, sitting attentively to the announcements she would proclaim on Their behalf. She took a seat at the end of the table, not hiding her discomfort in being near Yae and Ayato.

She cleared her throat as she straightened out the papers in her hand. “Their grace has again accepted our offerings and has given our nation new orders for training and improvement of Their favored. Those from Inazuma include the prestanding…” she hesitated, “Shikanoin Heizou and Thoma.”

The mood in the room darkened. “…And?” Ayato asked.

Yae leaned in. “Who else?”

The attendant seemed scared of what she was about to say. “Alongside the two newcomers…”

“Newcomers.” The word slid off her tongue dripping with disgust.

“Well,” Ayato asked, “who are they?”

At that moment, the other, less impressive, set of doors slammed open. Everyone turned to look at the intruders to the reading of their Creator’s guidance. Silhouetted in the doorway was a broad, muscled wall of a person whose overcoat was flung open. Red lines traced his body ending at two crimson horns, stark against his white hair.

A great voice boomed through the room. “Guess which Oni finally had their dream about that golden comet! That’s right, Arataki ‘The One and Oni’, ‘Numero Uno’ Itto! Here to take his rightful place alongside all the other Vision holders atop Inazuma City and serve That Big One Above The Sky!”

A tired voice behind him spoke up. “Boss…”

Itto quickly pulled a person from behind him up to his side, rambling through his next sentences quickly. “–Alongside the Deputy Assistant of the Arataki Gang, Kuki Shinobu! Who had her dream of the violet comet just last night. And who would also very much like to work for Them.”

As the guards escorting the two interlopers pushed them into the room and gently guided them to their seats, the rest of the room turned their eyes to the attendant in disbelief. She struggled to meet any of their gazes, choosing instead to bury her head in the paper she held. “The two newcomers are… Arataki Itto and Kuki Shinobu.”

The reactions were… less than ideal.

Most of the people in the room were venting their frustrations at each other or at the attendant, in complete disbelief that the Guarantor of Eternity would choose, much less give an iota of attention, towards the braggart oaf of Inazuma. But two people in the crowd aimed their frustrations at a specific target.

“Curious,” Yae Miko glowered at the newest members of the team, “I thought Their Grace only bothered to call upon their servants who had more than a handful of sense in their skulls.”

“Yes,” Ayato continued. “I thought our Undying Light chose only the best and brightest, but They must certainly be taking pity on the… less-deserving.”

“Ah, you know,” Itto shrugged, “felt like a coin toss whether you get picked or not. I guess I won this time! And hey,” his tone began to sharpen, “perhaps They just wanted someone that didn’t complain about others all the time and who can actually, you know, care about other people? They’re more than just the god of being high-and-mighty.”

“Boss,” Shinobu grabbed his attention. “They’re jealous and trying to get a rise out of you. Deep Peal’s had Their hands full and the flunkies are upset that They’re not paying attention to them. Let them huff and be upset all they want, you and I are the ones getting attention.”

“Oh, I see…” He turned back to the two insufferable Vision-wielders. “So is it true? You two just have your underwear in a twist over nothing?”

“Boss!”

“My,” Yae cut in, “what an observant little weasel. I wonder which of us Electro users might actually be of use to Their Grace. A priest hundreds of years in training, or a little runaway who can’t bear to show her face and true colors.”

“Hey,” Itto stood up quickly, partially shoving the table back, “back off! You clearly don’t prove that age makes you better, you hag! Memory serves, I was the one who won our little competition while you called it quits! So clearly, the Head Honcho prefers someone with a little staying power.”

Ayato raised an eyebrow. “This coming from the Oni who was laid out for weeks? Yes, excellent display of constitution, there.”

“You too? Alright, bring it! Both of you, right now, I’ll prove I can–!”

A great, snarling peal of thunder broke through all the noise, drowning out every voice in the room, rattling the walls and windows, reverberating inside the chests of all gathered. Everyone froze, the thunder continuing to roll as the seconds dragged on. When it finally subsided, the room hung deathly silent as few seemed willing to make another sound.

The attendant cleared her throat. “…Shall we move to the next bullet on the agenda?”

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

Here for the request event: So this is a specific request for SAGAU/Villain AU(?), where god!darling is beaten and bruised by all nations and only finds solace in the arms of Khaenri'ah and her inhabitants. Meanwhile the Nations have turned against one another, from learning the truth about god!darling and what they did to them. The streets are filled with war, Archon against Archon, brother against brother. Darling is so scared, and just wants Teyvat to return how it was.

A/N: Not entirely sure what the whole ‘god!darling’ thing is. I’ve seen it a few times and can’t exactly pin down what it means- is there any difference between ‘darling’ vs ‘creator’? I thought there were some fics (like with the Puppet AU?) where ‘darling’ was someone completely separate from the reader… For this prompt, I’m going to assume that “god!darling” means the reader.

Word Count: 885

Warnings: Mentions of wounds

Masterpost

Taglist: @iyohime

Dark clouds hovered over the city of Liyue, glacially turning like an eye bearing down upon its inhabitants. An occasional bolt of lightning arced between the clouds, tinted ominously. Beneath them, the Jewel and its Harbor sat silently, almost waiting to receive their oncoming fate whatever it may be.

Many hills away, a figure half-staggered, half-ran down a quiet road, slowing and coming to a stop as they rested against the nearby rock wall, breathing heavily and clutching at their wounds. Behind them trailed a line of what was no longer blood. In the days past, they saw gold and gemstones of the deepest hues, but now the errant splatters behind them turned into shards of pale opal and the basest of metals.

The little-recognized Creator grit their teeth. Why? Why did any of this happen? A simple excursion into town, under a disguise no less, to purchase a few inconspicuous items. But no, the wrong words at the wrong time drew suspicion, a request turned to a demand. The Yuheng and her retinue had already drawn their conclusions, and they descended to seize their target. The guards tried to coerce a confession and get them to earn their sentence, but they held strong, earning them only the reprieve of a cell.

They knew little of the public story. The Tianquan had tried to interfere, as she always does, but only to impose her means and her name onto the process. Few of the elite, it seemed, were contesting the ends of the endeavor.

Word spread quickly, and the news of injustice spread faster. Half-truths and quarter-truths found their ways to the ears of those in lands abroad, sparking rage and indignation. Mondstadt could only spare her prayers, but a few brave souls managed to trade their freedom for another’s- they garnered all the attention they could to allow their Beloved a chance.

A chance that was almost turned to naught, their flight plagued with danger around every corner. The incident, combined with the recent preparations, had diverted the guards’ attention, but the same preparations had made them all ill at ease. Three times the Creator had been spotted trying to flee from the city, but the wounds and scars Liyue had given them acted as doors, of a type.

The city’s lights and lanterns slowly grew dimmer and smaller, but the growing storm only lingered and continued to gather. The golden city remained, preparing itself for its upcoming trial, not by books and laws, the Creator realized, but by steel and blood, by muscle and visions, by Geo against Electro.

On the horizon, wreathed in lightning, heralded by thunder, and beneath violet sails, a navy approached. An indignant rage, purified by injustice against the infinities, sought to strike the upstarts clean. No wonder those fools unguided by an Archon’s hand would make so great a mistake. A reminder is due.

The Qixing saw things quite differently. That candle of a nation that so often burned against itself sought a new fuel to burn, and saw nowhere better to strike than their shining city. What could those wayward islands know of justice, hunting down their own? Best for them to leave others’ affairs be.

But dealings between the two were always strained, eager to seek a spark for the touchpaper. Even now, deep in the night as it was, the dragon and tiger neared, circling and eyeing each other’s weaknesses and shortcomings. Fangs gleamed and claws shone.

A great light grew in the city, then a second, then a third. The roars reached the Creator’s ears, confirming their greatest fears. Fires began to flare, devouring buildings and supports and stalls and people all the same. The winds shifted and fed the flames, and the navy descended towards where the dragon’s scales were peeled away.

The smoke billowed up, carrying away the souls of the first to perish. The ships’ cannons belched fire and steel, tearing into the garrison. A great palace began to glow amber and drive back the ships at bay, only to be stopped by a terrible amethyst bolt tearing through tile and stone alike.

Soldiers began to disembark, guards formed ranks. The docks fell swiftly, the defenders sabotaged from behind. Some approaching ships exploded in sprays of splinters and screams, but not enough to slow them.

The city descended. Frenzied soldiers began to pour through the port’s gates into the city proper. Marshalls barked orders at their unprepared underlings. Civilians fled, sometimes finding escape, sometimes finding men-at-arms, sometimes finding their only paths blocked. The fires, of course, consumed all without judgment.

And so far away from it all, the branded Creator beheld the two great powers draw each others’ blood. Bones broke, arrows flew, pikes gouged. Steel clashed, hopes and futures disappeared, livelihoods turned to ash.

And the Creator wept, for there was nothing else to do.

There was word from the wind that a haven may yet exist, beneath countless miles of stone, swallowed in the depths of the earth and sealed away in its lithic coffin where death cannot truly touch it and where death cannot truly escape. So many others had sought that place to smother an unceasing curse and leave behind the world.

Perhaps there, you figured, you might find some company to weaken the one you bore.

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

Creator Reforged: Building God Chapter 6

A/N: Ho boy, here we go.

Word Count: 2829

Warnings: Obsessive behaviors (gaslighting?), moderate body horror, swearing (just one instance)

Masterpost

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Taglist: @chihawari, @under-a-starry-night, @shadowfireblue, @brainless-gummy-bear,  @hiraya-rawr, @rogueofbullshit, @atsukawolfcat, @iyohme, @artificial-heartache, @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me, @thevictoriousmoon, @depressed-bitchy-demon​, @sunni-the-sunflower​, @queen-belial

You began to stir.

It wasn’t much at first. An itch here, a stray thread of thought there, but these fibers began to weave themselves together. Errant ideas, stray lines of thought, memories smothered with dust; together with your senses, since dulled but now slowly sharpening, they began to weave into a tapestry of consciousness. The seconds dragged on as you were gradually and unerringly woven into the present, strung up to keep you from slipping back away into the calmness of oblivion.

Your stirrings continued to prod at your mind, to push you to do something, anything. Some drive was burning at the back of your mind, threatening you to act lest it drive you insane, a sentiment not shared by your leaden limbs. The thought of actually standing up was not one your body was willing to entertain, so you took the next best step. You forced your eyes open, crusted with sleep as they were.

You looked around in disbelief. Where… were you? This, whatever it was, was not your bedroom. The interior of what you presumed to be a cabin, well-fashioned and well-maintained, looked like a disaster. Spare medical supplies littered the place, scraps of paper cast aside, small lengths of string or wire curled on the floor. Who lived like this, with sewing needles glinting in the mess under a sunbeam, with bloodied gauze piled together?

Were all those used on you?

Your eyes caught on something on the side of the room: an old cot with a partially rusted frame. Resting on it and facing away from you, curled beneath a cloak draped loosely over her, was a woman with short, teal hair. A pair of large-rimmed glasses sat delicately on a poofy hat on the floor near the head of the cot.

You thought to try and wake her, but reconsidered. A glance to the window on the other side of the room showed a pitch-black sky interrupted only by a few flecks of falling snow- much as you wanted to tell someone you were awake, waking someone up in the middle of the night was… bad etiquette…

…Wait a second. If it were nighttime, why was there a sunbeam in the middle of the floor? And why was the sky pitch-black? You should either be seeing stars or a bright blue sky out there. What was going on?

You heard and felt a dull thud ring through the air. Was that… a door opening? You supposed your senses weren’t all up to par yet. Not all that surprising, considering how heavy your limbs still felt. You hoped you could get around to standing up soon, or even sitting up, for that matter.

There was talking in the next room. Cheerful? Agitated? Frustrated? It was hard to tell the voices apart, and how the different people were talking. You tried, and failed, to lift your head to get a better look. Goodness, how out-of-sorts were you, that even looking around was this difficult?

The voices began to sharpen, in both clarity and tone. An argument going south, you guessed. Just as you started to be able to pick out words, a figure appeared through the slip of a doorway, glancing around the room you were in.

The half-ostentatious outfit the figure wore, equal parts white, teal, and brown, almost hurt your eyes to look at. The slightest blush crept over their cheeks and nose. They seemed to nonchalantly check over everything in the room like it was nothing out of the ordinary, before noticing you out of the corner of their eye.

Their eyes went wide, and they looked at you in– “C-Cr-Creator?!” Fear? Shock? In the space of a heartbeat, they snapped across the room, apparating right by your bedside grasping… someone’s hand?

No, that was–

That was your hand.

Why weren’t you feeling him touch you?

“Creator, a-are you alright? Please, answer me! What happened to–”

“Venti, that’s enough!” A deep, rough voice cut through the earlier one. The owner of that voice, a tall man with jet-black hair and a brown and black suit, ripped the earlier person from your bedside and all but held them in the air, glaring at them with open contempt. “You must forgive him, Dear Orator,” he addressed you while still giving ‘Venti’ a death glare, “he is not quite in his right mind to address you fairly.”

“–I am too! Liberator, please, you must understand my excitement to finally see you in person, we’ve all been–”

The taller man clasped a hand over Venti’s mouth. “I said, that’s enough! Their Grace must have awoken recently, and I will not tolerate you overwhelming them at such a critical junction–”

“Both of you,” a third man stepped, almost staggered, into view, “ease off.” This blond man looked tired and haggard, pale and tattered, a weary shadow of what must have been former self. His voice sounded as weak as he looked. “Especially you, Zhongli. Give Them some space, I haven’t completed all of Their transfusions.” You weren’t sure if you liked how he said ‘they’ and ‘them’, how it sounded like someone would refer to a valued possession, and not a human.

“Albedo, I’m just trying to–”

“Wait,” you wheesed out. Your own tone caught you off guard- why did you sound like that? From the looks of things, none of the other three men expected this either, each freezing to look over at you. “What’s go…” ‘ing on? Wait, wait, what–’ your voice had faded away to silence while you were talking, leaving you to mouth the last words. Why was this happening? What was going on?!

Whether they noticed your distress or not, they seemed to understand you well enough. Venti tried to answer you, which Zhongli firmly put a stop to, tightening his grip and pulling him away, muttering something to Venti about ‘distrusting the space he would give.’ Albedo approached your bedside and knelt down, leaning on the mattress more than he seemed he was comfortable with.

“Your Grace,” Albedo began, trying to suppress how the arm supporting him wavered, “I cannot begin to apologize on behalf of us recalcitrant sinners, who beheld Your form but would not believe the Truth Defined in flesh before our eyes. It was ours to know and believe, but we You rejected and spurned. Even I, when charged with a part of Your whole, treated You like a nameless corpse to be defiled and tinkered with. How blind we were, how blind was I! To miss so plainly Your displeasure made plain to Teyvat and its inhabitants alike, to misjudge Your acts of retribution.

“Measurer of Worlds,” Albedo began to dip his head, “Your most humble acolytes deserve not Your mercy and reprieve. We should not have been so proud to refuse Your being. We beg for Your mercy on us all.”

…

Well, what the fuck were you supposed to say to that?! Putting your whole other crises aside, what was this total stranger saying to you? Was he treating you like a king or a god? For what? You knew nothing about this man- Albedo Goldson, Chief Alchemist of Mondstadt. You had no idea how he related to you or what the hell he was talking about- a miscalculation upon a misjudgement, the ripples borne by nations; he believes he bears this upon his shoulders alone as penance. And you had no idea what all of those titles were- few of thousands, some meaningful, some less; the worth of each measured only by faith.

–Wait, what the…

Great, now you’ve got a third thing to have a meltdown over. One thing at a time, one thing at a time…

You needed to figure out why everyone was acting so weird around you. Everything else could wait. This guy, whatever a Chief Alchemist was, seemed to have the answers you would need, but you needed to disentangle them from him in the first place. “Albedo,” you began and saw him snap his head up to look at you, “what’s…” ‘–going on with you all, seriously?’ You paused as your breath ran out again.

He hesitated, looking you over for a moment. “Please, rest, Your Grace. Your energy is best focused on recovering from what we unruly creations have done to You.” His gaze turned away and he gripped onto the sheets. “I… was afraid that this outcome might manifest. I hoped that my abilities were enough to ensure a smooth awakening for you, but… I was mistaken.

“Again, you must forgive us. I cannot presume to know the full extent of Your suffering, but due to our failings as Your progeny and my failings as a surgeon, I believe you to have been paralyzed, somewhere along your cervical vertebrae though I fear a second in your lower vertebrae as well. This would explain your lack of movement, your…” Albedo cleared his throat, “I apologize, you have already realized your symptoms. I speculate that you may be facing another ailment, but…

“…Joyous Arbiter, do you… remember us? Do you know of the unthinkable things we visited upon you?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you ta…” ‘–lking about?’ Dammit, this not-finishing-your-sentences thing is really starting to get on your nerves! ‘What’s with all th–’ “ese random titles?”

A look of dawning realization crawled onto Albedo’s face. His face paled as a hand rose to cover his mouth. “What… have we done to you…?” He paused to try and swallow his fear. “Please, Sustainer, tell me, what do you remember of us, of this world?”

“N… nothing. I don’t remem…” ‘ber anything.’ You remembered bits and pieces of home. A face here, a name there; it was all slowly coming back to you, but you had never seen Albedo, Venti, or Zhongli before.

“Impossible…” Albedo mumbled, his face growing pale, “that’s just…” his head dipped lower and lower until his body suddenly went limp, slumping to the mattress and then noisily down to the floor.

“Albedo?” A voice from the adjoining room- Venti. He appeared, leaning through the doorway. “Are you al– Alb–!” He lurched into the room but froze in his steps. Anxiety crept into his face as he glanced at you, then rushed over to the side of the cot, urgently trying to wake its occupant. “Sucrose, wake up! Albedo, he–”

The woman with cyan hair, ‘Sucrose’ apparently, began to wake up and rub the sleep from her eyes. You did partially wonder who she was- Sucrose, apprentice alchemist under Albedo; her true origins are most forgotten, and even she has precious few leads on what they may be.

You’d shudder if you could still feel your body. You must have missed it when it first whispered to you, but that… voice, or whatever it was, just felt wrong. It seemed to speak bereft of animus, between your bones, tracing paths along your veins. You swore you could feel its breath down the side of your throat and its vibrations beneath your teeth.

It sounded achingly familiar.

But what was it? What was this thing that was piercing into your mind? Why did it feel like it was injecting something simultaneously chillingly cold and unbearingly warm into your very thoughts?

You had little time to mull these thoughts over. Sucrose had woken herself up, donned her glasses, and was now desperately trying to figure out what the current situation was, staggering off the cot. “–Mr. Albedo!” She hurried to his side, trying to pick him up and pull him over to where she just came from. Venti helped, however little he could.

She immediately set off, returning a few seconds later mixing something together and clumsily pouring it into a vial. She knelt down beside Albedo again and tried to administer it, to seemingly mixed success- he coughed and spluttered, but continued to lie dormant.

Sucrose sighed. “He should be fine. I… I told him this treatment could be too much on him! He was too stressed from all the events before, I- I should have pushed back harder! Now who’s going to be watching over Them? I don’t know if I’m well enough to properly greet Them…”

Venti glanced in your direction. “…Sucrose?”

She looked over at him. “What is it?” She followed his gaze towards you, and immediately went pale. “Y-Y-Your–! G-Gui–! Liber–!” She panicked, seemingly unable to decide on a name to address you with.

“Sucrose,” you said, “calm…” ‘down.’ You knew that just saying this wouldn’t be helpful, but there wasn’t much else you could do.

“–! A–A thousand pardons, Soaring Song! I just– I’m not– I don’t know–”

“Sucrose!” The word left your mouth far more harshly than you expected it to be. Sucrose, Venti, and Zhongli all flinched, and even the cabin itself seemed to wince in sympathy. You attempted to ease off your tone. “Please, calm down…” ‘and–’ you paused to gain your breath, “take things slowly.” You were starting to get more familiar with this weird breathing problem.

Every bit of her was trembling. She averted her gaze and meekly nodded. “U-u-understood, Y-Your Grace. I… I wanted first to apo-pologize for missing your r-return to the w-waking world.” She began to wring her hands. “I-I only hope that th-this humble servant can be e-enough to s-serve under Your E-Eminence…”

Okay, you needed to get to the bottom of this. “Sucrose.” Her head snapped up as you said her name. “Why are you all […] acting like this towards me? […] Why the titles? Why the […]” ‘act?’

Everyone seemed to react at once. Venti and Zhongli were answering you in their own ways, talking over each other, while Sucrose struggled to find her words. Zhongli, cutting his explanation off, snapped his hand over Venti’s mouth and cut off the latter’s description which was detailing some kind of history.

“Your Grace,” Zhongli began, “You must forgive this question, but this seems to strike you as odd. Do you believe this behavior to be improper?”

“You have your reasons, […] but I don’t know why. […] What’s with these titles?” It was choppy, but you tried your best.

Zhongli cleared his throat. “Your Grace, there is not– should not be a single person under the sun who would refuse to acknowledge your status as Creator. We humble servants have seen that word of the Great Forge has reached to all corners of Teyvat, if not further beyond. Again I ask, is this wrong? Do you perceive our behavior as odd?”

…Well, yes, this is weird! You’ve never been called anything more formal than your name, why are you suddenly being treated like this?

“Mr. Zhongli?” Sucrose spoke up, “Albedo, he… he mentioned that there may be… complications as a result of Their… prior situation.”

“How do you mean, Sucrose?”

“He said he was worried about all the issues of Their wounds. He mentioned a number of issues that could arise from transposing godhood to flesh… one of which was amnesia.”

“Amnesia through transposition? That would require serious loss, like…” his hand fell from Venti as a realization struck him. “Like through blood loss. None of Their other pieces had any blood, did they not? As Their Grace’s blood fell from their body, so too they lost piece by piece of their memory. It all makes sense… but what is to be done? Their lifeblood must have long since seeped into the depths of the earth.”

Venti stepped forward. “If the refrain has gone, even an echo must remain. Your Grace, we should be able to rekindle your memories, if we but have the chance to remind you. We should– no, we must do all we can to return some semblance of Their Grace back to Them!”

“What are you talking […]” ‘about?’ You tried to stop this madness before it could take root, but everyone was seemingly cementing themselves deeper into these communal fantasies.

“Your Grace,” Venti knelt and took your hand in his, “please have faith in us, Your loyal and grateful servants. Though you may be lost and confused, please take heart that we will return to You Your rightful station. Please, Sweeping Gale and Guiding Light, let us repay but a fraction of the love you have shown us.” He touched your hand to his forehead and rose. “I must take my leave. There are many preparations to be made in Mondstadt City and many people to sway. Zhongli, will you assist me as only a fellow acolyte can?”

Zhongli frowned. “One would think, considering our standings, that I should be the one to ask this question of you…”

“And yet you stand as a guest in this land. Curious.” You could hear the smile on his voice. He turned and addressed you. “A thousand apologies for leaving so soon after arriving, but we must set the way right for you. Zhongli!” Venti spun on his heel and began marching out, “To the city below!”

===

Next

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

Memory Exchange

A/N: Inspired by this post, suggested viewing, this blog.

Word Count: 1130

Warnings: None, to my knowledge

Masterpost

Taglist: @iyohime

Windrise was a calming place to lie down and let the world drift by. The soft bursts of wind blowing through the branches and across your face, the quiet trills of the birds as they danced and flapped around each other, the shifting shadows from the clouds and leaves. Venti had suggested spending the day, or an afternoon, resting here beneath the wide-spreading oak tree and let the stresses and worries in the city fade–

It wasn’t a simple flinch. That damn thought darkened the threshold of your mind again, jarring your thoughts, shocking your senses, and wrenching you out of the calm, peaceful moment you were in. You brought a hand to your temple, trying to brush the stinging thought away.

“Hmn?” Venti, who just moments ago was dozing half against your shoulder, picked his head up, brushing a few locks of hair out of the way and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Whu…?”

“It’s nothing, Venti.” You tried to settle back down. “Don’t mind me.”

His head tilted and his brow furrowed each to the slightest degree. “Are You sure? That didn’t feel like nothing. Did You have… that thought again?”

“No,” you lied, “it’s fine, let’s just get back to sleep, Venti.”

You laid back down, but Venti hesitated for only a moment. Eventually, instead of joining you, he turned and held a hand out to the air, like there was someone who was about to hand him something. It took a few seconds but down from the cloud of leaves flapped a single butterfly, gliding down on various small drafts. A few more began to follow as the first one neared, then landed on Venti’s outstretched hand.

Venti turned back to you and began to lie down, careful to not jostle his hand too much. He spoke only when he was settled on your side. “Here,” he gestured for you to bring your hand up to his. “A trade.

“I will trade You that terrible memory,” he emphasizes the last three words, but only just, “for one that I have of a young oak tree, covered in butterflies.”

You held your hand out close to his and the butterfly, a black-veined drop of amber glowing against the tree above, began to crawl down Venti’s hand toward yours.

He continued. “A hundred monarchs resting on their long flight have lit here, on these verdant branches. You reach out,” the butterfly crossed the small gap onto your fingers, each light step tickling your skin, “and the tired creatures crawl onto your arms, wings slowly parting and closing, parting and closing as they breathe.” There were more of those butterflies flitting in the air, dozens now, twirling down towards you. They began to converge, one after another landing on your outstretched hand and down to your arm. “They rest, covering you in magic. You spin in the sunlight, laughing. You are very small, and they glow like candles behind colored glass.

“I will trade you,” his hand pulled away, “one awful, inescapable thing for this one golden moment in time, this moment of honeycomb light and a warm autumn day tapering to endless evening.”

The butterflies clustered together on your hand, dancing around as they explored your skin. At this angle in the light, some of them even seemed to glow–

===

Darting between the rows, I barely catch the sight of blue locks in a sea of green and violet. The grounds are not even here, but we know them well from the hours we have spent with each other and under the charge of the servants. We have traced each row a thousand times by now, and we will follow them a thousand more. My brother hides from me now, but cannot evade me forever.

===

It wasn’t a long fall and the ground wasn’t all that hard. I managed to catch the beetle but got a scrape in the process. Granny must have heard and runs out, looking all worried about me. She pulls me aside, grabs some supplies, and starts treating my knee with the most caution I’d seen out of her. Washing the mud away, applying the gauze, holding my hand as she brought me inside… Come on, I wasn’t crying that hard, alright?

===

Some mornings, when I go out to gather shells and shiny stones before the sun rises too high, I would find the tides receded and the rocky shores forming a handful of tidal pools. My heart aches for the poor creatures trapped within, locked in those diminutive spaces, so I would run to each of them, gathering as many as I could in my arms before dashing to return them to the sea. I always wondered what became of the ones I saved…

===

You blinked as a few of the butterflies took off from your hand, and those unfamiliar memories disappeared from view but still lingered in your mind. A few others began to catch the light.

===

There are so many things to love about the mountains, but one of the best things is walking around on a blanket of snow! The kiss of the cold air, the crunch of the snow, the warmth from the vision… But the very best is when it’s still snowing, and you can walk around, spinning and catching the snowflakes on your tongue. And when we get back, there’s always some hot cocoa to enjoy!

===

I remember walking these paths ten thousand times, but every time, I’ve walked a different forest. The trees bend slightly from day to day, the mosses huddle on the edges of the wooden planks, the streams burble different songs, the winds carry different tones. The birds gloat about their secrets, and the creatures scrabble in the leaves for trinkets. I’ve always wondered what the next trip will bring.

===

The sun has set some time ago, and I have been called to her side. She pulls me in, checking the ropes to be snug, but not tight. She whispers the reminder to me again, to keep them beside me at all times as she pulls a wing over my tiny body. Her soft feathers brush against my skin and her warmth bleeds into mine. Held tight like this, there is little I can do but drift off to sleep.

===

A few more butterflies scatter to the winds, but the others cling on. You feel something pull away from you, like an old, rotten leaf brushed off your clothes.

“Look,” Venti says, pulling his hand away, “you have made the trade. You can take your memory back anytime, but you don’t need to bear it always. I will hold it for you so that, for a while, it can be smaller and further away.

“Look,” Venti whispered. “Look at the butterflies.”

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

hi!! congratulations on your 200+ followers!!! :D can i request a prompt of characters your choice with a creator who's super reclusive? like super introverted its almost funny

A/N: You know, sometimes writing these things is a roller-coaster in and of itself.

Wordcount: 866

Warnings: Dark undertones, tonal whiplash

Masterpost

Taglist: @iyohime

iii. The Windwheel Aster (Aster molendinum), native to southwest Mondstadt, has been observed to be attempting to spread southwards beyond the Dragonspine range into Liyue. While the ocean winds are too violent for the seeds to safely traverse, a narrow, survivable corridor exists through the northeasterlies, as a small colony of the specimens can attest. Anecdotes attest to the possibility of these fragile seeds reaching the islands of Inazuma, though few speak well about how they fare. Therefore, concerns about the invasiveness of this plant are wildly unfounded as my incompetent colleague has clearly overlooked in their latest release.

Your head snapped up from your book. You heard someone over the howling winds, and a snarl crept over your face.

“…ace? Your Grace?”

You let out something between a sigh and a grunt, both of frustration. Two days ago, you had had enough with all the parties, all the social events, all the people trying to talk to you and touch you and getting far too nosy for your own comfort. They inundated you with an inordinate amount of questions: “Are You feeling alright, Your Grace?”, “You don’t look comfortable at this party, Revered One, would You like to leave?”, “I’ve heard You get stressed from dealing with people. Shall I set You up with a quiet place in my library?”

Why did they find it necessary to talk to you so much? Was it so hard for them to realize you wanted to be left alone? This is why you stole away in the darkest night, slipping past their guards and wards armed only with your wits, a few books, and the divine power to blow a human-sized hole through a city wall. After deftly escaping from the Knights’ headquarters, then creating a dust cloud that could be seen from Inazuma, you were finally free from the oppressive clutches of Mondstadt and her people. Seizing your newfound freedom, you fled to the one place that no sane human would rationally go to: the Dragonspine Mountains.

If isolation had a price, you were more than willing to pay it.

The climb was hellish and the environs hostile, but you eventually found a cave untouched by human hands for years. It sheltered you little from the biting winds and blowing snow, but here, at last, you thought you could find the solace you dreamed for to finish reading a single book.

But alas.

Even this was too much to ask for from the world because someone had to have the gall to find you here of all places, when you spent literal hours climbing up this mountain and minutes finding this cave!

“Dearest Founder, is something the matter?” You glanced over to see Albedo waltzing into your cave. “I saw something rising from Mondstadt and feared the worst, but I see you here of all places. Has something gone wrong in the city?”

You snapped your book closed. There were things you were willing to deal with, like the minimal interaction needed to secure these books from Lisa, and this wasn’t anywhere close to what you were willing to deal with. You stood up, brushing the snow off yourself before attempting to slip past the intruder in your once-newfound sanctum.

“Please, Your Grace.” His grip landed on your shoulder. The contact and the force stung more than the winds outside ever did. “Everyone down there must be so worried. Let’s get you down there and ease their minds.”

You glowered at his hand. The contact was… certainly unwelcome, but you learned quickly that there was little you could do to protest against “your acolytes’” whims. Every attempt you made to pull from their grip was a fruitless endeavor, from the imposing and muscled guards to the tiny and weak like Klee and Diona. Far too easily and far too often, you were pulled into the lives of others when all you wanted was to be left alone.

Albedo continued to prattle on about the state of the people below, carelessly pulling you along with a “I don’t want to keep them waiting, Our Author,” or a “Please, we must make haste, they’re sure to be worried to death about You.” You sighed, resigning yourself back into the cycle once again.

Maybe they’d finally understand and give you more time to read this time around.

===

“Albedo, my confidants are beginning to ask questions. By the Creator, I hope you have a cover story.”

“What are they saying?”

“They think you kidnapped Them and tried to steal Them away to your mountain, only to return when your conscience got the better of you.”

“And you, of all people, should know that would be impossible. The timing of events is impossible to resolve with an in-and-out kidnapping attempt, not to mention the absurdity of punching through ten feet of masoned stone without so much as scratching any of the other nearby buildings.”

“Mm. I was never convinced of their theories, in any case. You’ll need to defend yours to them, though.”

“There’s always one way to be absolutely sure about what happened.”

“…You and I both know that will never work.”

“I know. At this point, getting the response isn’t the goal.”

[just-a-new-gi-writer]

100/200 Followers Event

Well, that... wasn’t expected.

For those not in the know: I started a ‘request-the-writer’ event after I posted chapters 3a and 3b because I broke 100 followers. Having since made three, technically four, posts since then, I have broken 200 followers.

I... wow. Thank you. Thank you all for deciding to follow me on this wild and weird journey oddly filled with body horror.

I’m going to be extending the followers event, adding five more slots for the requests. As always, they are first come, first served. Just send an ask with the prompt you want to see.

Freezing Nights, requested by my ever-helpful beta reader, @naxigale

Kiss and Tell, requested by an anonymous reader

Asocialite, requested by an anonymous reader

Under the Shadows of War, requested by @voidlesslove

[Reserved for an anonymous reader]

[Reserved for thevictoriousmoon]

[Reserved for an anonymous reader]

[Reserved for an anonymous, to-be-dubbed, reader]

[Reserved for an anonymous reader]

[Reserved for an anonymous reader]

For my works, see the following Masterposts:

[Untitled SAGAU series]

JaNGW side stories