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m1d-45 · 24 days
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pankration
summary: wriothesley has come a long way in his life, ascending the ranks of the fortress in merely a handful of years. yet, after it all, it always seems he ends up right back where he started.
word count: 3.7k
-> warnings: lots of mentions of blood and violence, major spoilers for wriothesley lore/story quest
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt
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pankration was a core part of the fortress of meropide.
it started as a collective term for the various brawls around every corner, a whispered term when guards were present. all fights had to be reported, but if you bet on someone winning pankration, those that knew pretended they didn’t and those that didn’t didn’t have to pretend at all. anything goes within the impromptu battlefield, cut up gears into rough brass knuckles, scrap metal as a shiv, blood and bruises blooming in equal proportion. fighters would take out whoever you wanted if you had enough credits, or maybe they wouldn’t and take both your money and the reward from the administrator for reporting you. pankration had no rules, no boundaries, no set time or place.
wriothesley knew this, and figured out early on the best ways to win. when he first arrived at the fortress, he was young. not exactly scrawny by anyone’s standards, but certainly at a disadvantage among those with decades of experience. he kept his vision close to his chest, and when another prisoner’s knife dug into it instead of his heart, he knew he had to change.
he was never taught how to fight, but he learned how to cheat, and fast. he swiped spare wire and scrap parts, formed points for his punches to drive through. he couldn’t beat his opponents through pure strength at first, so he forced himself to be quick. even the toughest fighters had their weak spots, and he was determined to find them. it was life or death, if not for the immediate battle then for long term food.
a small corner of his mind flinched at the violence, hated that this was how things had to be, but he silenced it quickly enough. he was fighting for money, he told himself, to win reputation, to earn his spot within the bolted steel walls. he fighting to be able to eat well, to sleep comfortably, to walk when he needed without his hands twitching for his gauntlets at any sound. he fought to stay alive, not only because of his vision’s added strength but of his own, every scar across his body a lesson learned.
slowly, his reputation grew. slowly, people began to recognize him, the oddly proportioned teenager —only barely, but he wasn’t about to correct them—with steel hands and silvered hair. rumors were as important a currency as coupons, and he took great care to keep the ones about him in his favor. that was his life for a while, cycling between picking fights and patching himself up, collecting coupons and earning favor. he listened to the shadows, and if someone had something to say, he challenged them in the light.
soon, though, these whispers began to change. gossip bled through the walls about a ‘duke,’ speaking with such reverence that it had him worried. they spoke about him like a deadly weapon, all sharp edges and jabbing cuts. the duke, highest in rank second only to the administrator, a force of nature stronger than even the sea itself. he’d never met or even heard of duke, had they been intentionally avoiding him? how much did they know? he only hid his pankration from the guards, he’d be at a major disadvantage if they knew all his tactics.
it’s almost funny how concerned he was over a ghost, the thin week between who he was and who he became spent with a knife tucked in his sleeve.
someone had tried to trick a new prisoner into being his toy, saying that it was part of the prison’s “orientation program.” wriothesley thought he’d made his point perfectly clear to all who knew him that newbies needed time to make their own place, but a well-placed punch did the rest of the job. he wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying, spouting off the usual nonsense about not taking advantage of others while an itch at the back of his neck told him he was doing the same thing.
it’s different, he told himself, even as his boot pressed into their chest. they tried to push it off, wheezing out an apology, but he let them squirm a bit before letting up. it’s different, because he’s doing it to protect someone else, isn’t he?
“that’s our duke,” someone whispered behind him, and he whipped around so quickly he nearly tripped over himself. he searched for an unfamiliar face, trying to find who spoke, but all eyes were on him.
his hands began to shake within his gloves, uncomfortable dots connecting in his head. he stepped forward to push his way through, but the crowd parted like the tide around a ship, nobody resentful on behalf of the man with bruises rapidly forming across his ribs.
he spent nearly an entire day alone after that, pacing within his room. how could he be their duke when he didn’t want to rule? not out of fear, not when a sharp enough glare could make another prisoner pale, not when he had just managed to convince himself that his violence was a necessity. his gauntlets lay on his desk and he didn’t even want to touch them, conflict taking place of his blood.
he was still doing good, wasn’t he? protecting those who didn’t know better, forcing vendors to lower the cost of basic necessities, discouraging violence against the guards to defend those he could tentatively trust. he did not have an ‘inner circle,’ not like the other groups that came before him, and part of the reason was that he was not part of any one gang. he had no affiliation but himself, no family but the steel that wrapped around his wrists, no name but the one he’d chosen.
but here he was. the duke of the fortress.
he wasn’t the first to know when his coupons were taken. a massive leaderboard hung in the center of the main level, the top ten positions a brawl. his place had long since been cemented, and yet he returned from his breakfast to find a massive crowd surrounding the board. part of him wanted to ignore it, as he was leaving—was he? he was avoiding the topic as best as he could—the fortress the next day, but he knew better. as before, the crowd parted, allowing him to see that his space on the board had been filled, with a note to the side explaining that his had been confiscated for “poor behavior.”
he almost laughed. almost, the corner of his mouth twitching, but he remained firm. the crowd had turned to him for an answer, and he needed to find one fast.
“that could have been anyone.” he didn’t know where he was going with this, turning around and crossing his arms to appear bigger than he was. “is that how you want to live?”
roars of agreement met his ears, most of the prisoner body gathered under a flag of need.
“underhanded sabotage is not the answer to the failure of authority,” he had declared, well aware that the hand he was waving was stained with years of bloodshed. “i’ll take care of it.”
he didn’t know how. nobody asked, hundreds of voices assenting that their duke would handle it, that if anyone could it was him, again parting to allow him passage. his hand was raised, knocking on the administrator’s door before he could understand what he was doing. he didn’t even register their face, heart pounding. he was saying something, asking- asking for a duel he’d surely never receive. he may have some sort of authority over the prisoners, but he surely had none over the administrator.
when they called for those who thought the challenge was unjustified, the only sound was the water circulating beneath their feet.
they agreed. tomorrow at noon, in front of their office. he nodded, the doors closed, and he was left in front of a crowd he didn’t know how to face. people were smiling, patting each other’s shoulders, expecting him to win. he knew if it came down to a physical fight he would, but they could have just as easily slipped word to a palais garde, and his sentence would be extended for threatening a public official.
would he mind? was freedom what he really wanted? did he prefer living in the fortress, or did he just like that he’d already established a foundation? what did that say about him, if he liked living in blood and oil more than he did fresh air?
he hardly slept that night, not that it mattered. the administrator was gone the next morning, and his life had changed.
another crowd had gathered, trying and failing to be subtle. iron doors stared him down, the knocker weighing twice as much as it should. when it hit the door, it shifted inward just the smallest amount, as if inviting him in. his heart was in his ears as he pushed the door open, wondering about the hundreds of options that could be awaiting him inside, but the office was empty. the lower level had no coat on the rack, the stairs missing the bright red rug that used to run down it. the shelves up top were empty, the only sign someone had lived in there at all taking the form of a gramophone sitting on the edge of the desk. no record lay inside.
people had figured out what had happened, now, metal echoing as people climbed the stairs. the chair was a plush velvet, a rapidly forming headache burning behind his eyes.
the prior administrator had people call them by their title and last name, a rule nobody followed. they were simply the admin, nameless and faceless and only ruler in title alone. wriothesley’s name was well known throughout every inch of the fortress’ walls, and yet now that he was in their chair, everyone still called him the duke.
his position as duke did not make him fit to be an administrator, and his new seat could only be secured as he proved himself worthy of it. he had no idea how to manage the fortress. he was running blind for a half of his first year, off the cuff intuition somehow getting him what he wanted. he feared every day that someone would find out, that his incompetence would be put upon the world’s stage, but either nobody noticed or nobody cared. he timed shipments wrong? apologies for the hold-up. guards weren’t following the uncoordinated patrols he arranged? forgive us, your grace, for allowing your orders to slip our mind. he waited for the day that people realized they had no tangible reason to respect him, waited for the revolt, but it never came.
why? he wanted to ask, watching as guards saluted when he walked by. what part of me has earned your respect?
he made it a point not to strong-arm prisoners now that he was in a higher position, did his best not to rule with fear. as a prisoner, he could allow himself to survive, but now he had no reason to. to wriothesley, true respect was not bought or fought for, and only true respect could keep a fortress full of criminals in line.
welfare meals earned him respect. standardized jobs, base level housing, small quality of life changes that he hated as a prisoner. he worked from dawn to dusk—as much as one could when buried hundreds of feet beneath the sea—and even then, it took him years to feel as if he’d finally earned his keep. much like his time as an inmate, wriothesley could not feel comfortable until he had prepared for everything, until every problem had either been gotten rid of or improved.
pankration could not fully be outlawed. fights would still happen no matter what rules he implemented, so he skipped banning and went straight for regulation. the least he could do was ensure it was safe and organized, to provide a stage for formalized challenges. it only resembles its original form in name, changing from fistfights in shadowed hallways to a tournament sport held next door to the infirmary. a new elevator was installed, a dedicated section of the sub-level below sectioned off to keep the main area of the fortress somewhat quiet. prisoners’ hobbies had little to do with how the fortress functioned externally, but he was finding himself with more and more free time. it was supposed to be a good thing, less work for him meant that the systems he’d implemented could hold their own, but he was left restless. even now, his schedule was cleared for the rest of the day, desk empty of paperwork. nothing to do and nothing more urgent needed improving, so it’s not like he had anything better to do than pay the ring a visit. he was getting antsy sitting still for so long anyway.
he pulled his jacket from the back of his chair, lazily draping it over one shoulder. guards and prisoners alike dipped their heads as he passed, a gesture he returned with a faint wave. the elevator was empty, the clanking gears his only company as the cart slowly twisted. the shouts and cheers from below grew louder and louder, echoing up the tunnel. the doors hissed open and he stepped out, the sound of his boots on the metal floors drowned as bets were won and lost.
he could nearly pinpoint the moment that people recognized him. the flicker of uncertainty over their faces, credit coupons tucked into pockets and hidden away, someone subtly trying to loosen the springs on the training dummies. he spent years trying to lead without terror, and yet here in the pankration ring, none of it seemed to matter. blood and sweat mixed in the air, his mind automatically associating the smell with memories. if he were to close his eyes, he could almost pretend he wasn’t wearing his cloak, pretend he was about to enter a fight he knew he could win, pretend that he could see his would-be opponent curled up in a pool of their own blood.
“is there a problem, your grace?”
he blinked, and he was back to the present. “just wanted to check in,” he lied, waving over to the group of training equipment. “you could tell me if you needed new dummies.”
and the group relaxed, oblivious to the fact that their duke’s fingers were digging into his arm, the memories lingering like an infectious disease.
he came back the next week, helping set up the new equipment. the old ones were worn out and poorly repaired, and everyone was happy that they were being replaced. it was a safety hazard more than anything, and a need he was more than willing to meet.
again, setting up a small stall for water and snacks, for both contestant and observer. a more official platform for those managing the bets and standardization for the referees, better padding over the poles of the ring, jokes passed around that if he spent any more time in the arena, he might as well compete.
he had told himself he was better. that he was only a fighter as an inmate because he needed to be, that everything he did worked to prevent power by way of fear. he told himself over and over that he was different, that he didn’t want that, and now he was wondering if he ever believed it. now he wondered why he ever tried.
his coat was left in his office this time, the various pins and layers of his outfit stripped away. wraps were now purchasable, but his hands were covered in the same roughly cut cloth he’d always used. he stretched, watched as his opponent hyped himself up, gaining cheers from the crowd on his side of the arena. he had wanted his first show to be a surprise, to listen to the shocked silence that would undoubtedly follow his debut. he reached, pulling himself up and over the railing in one fluid jump, and was met with the silence he expected.
and then the room exploded, coupons changing hands—why was he surprised people were betting on him competing?—as his opponent turned around. with the entire arena as his witness, wriothesley smiled, adrenaline tingling in his palms at the flash of fear over their face.
for the good of both pankration and the fortress as a whole, he’d hired a proper, in-house nurse. her name was sigewinne, a melusine with more intuition for the human body than most would give her credit for, her work neat and diligent. she was hellbent on getting him to take care of himself, which included stopping his habit of returning to the ring day after day. when he went to fix himself up (that she always insisted on doing for him) she often asked why, asked if there was really nothing better to do with his time than to continue to fight as if he were an inmate, all teeth and claws and dirty tactics. he knew if he was honest with her, pouring out every thought and craving in his head, she would have some fancy name for his desire. there was some book she could point to, some moment in his life that was at fault, but he never bothered trying. why would he, when he already had his answer? this rush, this high as he dashed forward, feeling the prisoner’s balance shift beneath his fist, it wasn’t a stranger to him. he was well familiar with the pride that came with a fight well won. wriothesley had spent years convincing himself he had earned his power outside of beating someone else for it, but now he wondered why he had used that conviction to avoid fighting as a whole. this was what he was meant for, barely feeling the blows across his chest in favor of kicking out their feet with his own, pouncing as they fell. there was no crowd around him, no harsh lights, just him and the head locked beneath his arm, elbows jabbing backwards in weak protest.
the bell rang. he’d won. he didn’t care.
again and again, he returned to the ring, the bruises from his last fight not yet fully healed. scars already crossed his body in a net of victories, he barely noticed a few extra spots of blue. he wanted more than anything to believe he was better than those who raised him, that he wasn’t someone who wanted others to live in fear of them, but he couldn’t deny the enjoyment he felt when someone regretted signing up. that brief, blink and you miss it instance of cold feet, lingering just for a moment. there were rules to pankration now, rules that he followed to the letter, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating and everyone involved knew it. a lifetime of fought for muscle and a glare sharpened to a point, barely an icy flash beneath his hair. the deafening cheers, the dim lights, his split lip he barely noticed and a bruise on his side that pulsed when he breathed. beat up and dirty, the prime example of some street rat he’d normally condemn, smiling a bit too wide when he won.
what was the point of being a duke, his mind whispered, if he wasn’t allowed a little fun?
that’s what it was to him. fun. he put up a front and pretended that he was whole on the inside, that it was just a time-killer to keep him in shape, the sick pride that came with it a secret kept locked far, far away. maybe he wasn’t better. maybe this made him just as bad as his host family was, maybe his enjoyment should have him locked up in a different kind of institution. maybe that was all true, but his gray morality was something he’d long since come to terms with. he didn’t regret killing, he didn’t regret rising to the tops of the fortress’ ranks, and he certainly didn’t regret taking part in this new pankration. what was one more sin added to his tally? wednesdays always had a cleared afternoon, but it wasn’t enough, his feet bringing him back to the arena again and again. day after day, the elevator’s whine already setting his heart pumping faster, chasing the high that the control gave him.
his current opponent struggled beneath his hand, an iron grip around their neck that wasn’t tight enough to do any permanent damage. they could still breathe, their pulse thundering beneath his fingers, and he waited a split second too long after they tapped out to let them go.
it was bad, but it was fun, their eyes tearing up with a subconscious doubt that they’d leave the ring alive. he was bad, but he was already in prison, and nobody had to know about what went on behind the scenes of his actions. nobody ever ended up hurt, after all, and he still did somewhat pull his punches. he stood, then helped them up and patted them on the shoulder, making some blanket comment that they needed to focus on defensive techniques more. most of the contestants did. he waited a moment to make sure they got out of the arena safely before returning to his corner, waving off someone offering him water. it wasn’t as if he didn’t care his prisoners, far from it in fact, but…
wriothesley made a bit of a show of fixing the wraps on his hand, watching that familiar regret light up his next challenger’s eyes.
what was the point of being the duke, he thought, if he wasn’t allowed a little fun?
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m1d-45 · 1 month
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Vibrating SO HARD cuz im guaranteed Xiao, so i'll get him finally to be c1 because i dont want yae miko, im close to pity 75 and IM SO FUCKING TREMBLING CUZ OF THE MICROSCOPIC CHANCE OF LOSING THE FIFTY FIFTY WHICH IS LIKE ONE IN A MILLION OR SOMETHING BUT WHAT *IF*-
-🥘Stew, who KNOWS they are overthinking. BUT STILL-
you got this !!!! xiao CANNOT escape he WILL be yours and i believe in you !! don’t worry, you’ll be alright !
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m1d-45 · 1 month
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Do you ever think about what characters would say 'kys' thinking it meant 'keep yourself safe' because I do and it always goes to Qiqi for some reason :')
🪷 anon
I AM NOW
qiqi would have to have picked it up from some kids when she’s walking through the harbor, and she’ll probably “qiqi heard other kids saying goodbye at the harbor, so… k..y-s… :)” “qiqi- do you remember what that means?” “….if i had to guess…. keep.. yourself safe? that seems like something friends would say…”
there’s not really that many snarky types…. perhaps yae rejecting a book submission with “nope, LOL !” and when confronted simply smiles, “you’re a bit behind, aren’t you? it’s a simple acronym for ‘lots of love.’ i was wishing you well on your journey elsewhere, but i can rescind my respect if you don’t care for it.”
genshin characters are too tragic or too blunt for any to fit the type… barbara might be tricked and earnestly wish a sister well, but she’d very quickly correct her mistake when confronted. same for maybe mika or collei?
(neuvillette might buy it at first [the other person was too afraid to admit what ‘kys’ actually meant in front of the chief justice so they lied instead] but he’s the type to look up words in a minimum of three dictionaries before using it in his day to day conversation.)
dori and xingqiu would just be very verbose with their insults (to the point of confusing the other person, which makes them smile), alhaitham and diluc would just cut the conversation short—there’s not enough whimsy in teyvat for this. even like lyney, or kaeya, or even beidou who have the (even if artificial) personality for the (kys in specific) joke wouldn’t be able to actually make it. there’s a very narrow overlap between ‘jester’s disposition’ and ‘emotional stability’ that 99.99% of genshin characters fall outside of.
….that being said, zhongli. intentionally, fully knowing, playing it up as “ah, modern slang… the history buff once again foiled by the youngsters… 😞” but he Knows.
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m1d-45 · 1 month
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Before I drop the actual ask I just wanna say if you had happened to sell your soul to like the devil or something to be able to write the way that you do (I wouldn’t be surprised, your bird!xiao stuff has me bawling my eyes out) then I would totally give you mine out of gratitude for producing such lovely works. Thank you for those!!
Anyways you can ignore this if it makes no sense or you simply don’t want to bother but I have an idea that I’d like you to consider that might be of some interest; I spent my 3am reading through the Shining Nikki Saga tag and it got me thinking about a creator from other similar games/medias. One that has been plaguing my thoughts in particular is a creator- especially Impostor!au- who’s from Honkai Impact 3rd.
A creator who’s a Herrscher, or maybe a Houkai beast or Pseudo-Herrscher the way that Benares is, or even just a standard Valkyrie.
But Just. A creator who isn’t helpless after their unfortunate isekai. They pull up in Teyvat, get attacked by the forces of whichever nation they land in, and their first reaction is “oh haha okay- TAKE THIS SUBSPACE LANCE DUMBASS‼️”
ohhh you understand
first off, i’m glad you liked what i’ve written! thank you very much for the compliment
secondly, that’s very interesting! warning that while i’ve dabbled in hi3, i never actually played it that much (not my style of gameplay). that being said the idea of being able to access those powers while you’re in an isekai has a lot of potential
(obligatory note that while the universes of hi3 and gi are connected, i will not be acknowledging this anywhere else in this post)
(note two: that would be interesting, though. fischl and fischl…)
in terms of hi3, my mind is going to the “kill them with kindness? WRONG, herrscher of the void 🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌” meme. this is all i have to offer.
lie. from my limited knowledge i remember a unit who’s abilities centered around painting- dude, the mech suits? good luck killing me when i am a literal transformer. swords don’t do shit against 4tons of steel.
in terms of other various medias, my mind goes to, as always, minecraft. isekai!creator with creative mode. ender pearls for quick getaways, invisibility potions, potions for speed and fire resistance (which will come in handy should they start to pull out witch trial pyres), flying if they’re in creative mode, fireworks and elytras..… honestly, depending how much of the base media you want to pull over into genshin, pretty much any other media would work. i’m also thinking of demon slayer (for the sole reason it has been discussed on this blog prior) and specifically giyu’s “dead calm” breathing, but any of the others will do. depends on the media and a bunch of semantics about lore, but i’m not going to get into that.
redirecting back to mhy games strictly because of star rail (was that out when i first got this ask? god knows but it’s here now), specifically ratio’s burst. imagine being a hunter, seeing a Suspicious Person about, and in response they simply. construct a building of stone and steel out of nowhere, sending it crashing down in front of your platoon. nobody’s hurt, thankfully, but the earthquake echoes.
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m1d-45 · 1 month
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I have no idea who you are but idk man have some good vibes. Stay hydrated, eat 3 times a day, take your meds on time (if you do take meds), and get plenty of rest. Anyways, see ya dude.
oh ! thank you so much !! take care of yourself too, and i hope you have a great day or night !
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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I GOT SCARED I COULDN'T SEE YOU IN MY FOLLOWING LIST FOR A BIT BUT I'M GLAD TO BE BACK
Anyways, Gaming!!! I love him so much I heard his FIRST ascension voice line THE FIRST ONE and I sobbed he is so precious 😭
🪷 anon
he's so sweet !!! his ascension lines are so FUN to me—who gave this sassy child modern slang?—and though i haven't properly looked through his voicelines/lore, he's a guy ever !!
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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can i join your tag list 🥺!
of course ! thank you for showing interest and i'm happy you've enjoyed my blog !
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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just a small idea since you said you had a lil writers block: since wushi (lion dance) is used for important events/occasions and to honor special guests, maybe you could write about how ga-ming does a lil performance for creator?
- curse anon
vanguard’s fortune
note: this is not what you asked ! i thank you so much though
word count: 1k
-> warnings : written prior to 4.4, lots of “if you know you know” spoilers for liyue archon, story, and hangout quests, but nothin big
-> gn reader (you/yours)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept
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despite everything, ga ming knew he was lucky.
he certainly didn’t feel like he was. aside from his continued streak of bad luck at his performances, you never attended any of his shows and your vessels never gave him so much as a second glance. you’ve walked right by him on the street before—and yes, he knows you don’t ‘see’ most of liyue, but he was in the middle of a dance. he’s certain that word must have spread at least somewhat, but even when he put on a show during the last lantern rite, you didn’t attend. it was as if you didn’t even know he was there, skipping his meager stage to meet up with yun jin.
part of him wondered if you simply disliked liyue, but that was easily proven false. you took the time to accompany chongyun on his patrols, xiangling was more than happy to talk about when you’d helped her in a competition in mondstat, and you’d even fetched ingredients for the wangsheng consultant last year. it was the simple fact that you had nothing against liyue, and he was an outlier.
and yet, he was blessed. vision wielders were rare on their own, and only a thin sliver of them had constellations. he was incredibly lucky to be one of the few within your spotlight of attention, but he never felt the love that was supposed to come with it. yes, he had a vision, the lion carved on the back a figure he’s long memorized, but even the latest of liyuen rotations had a chance to exist by your side. though the others always tried to reassure him, their words fell flat. xingqiu had recieved his vision long before he became a vessel, but he had several turns in the sky to try. chongyun was largely ignored and ningguang was rarely missing from the jade palace, but that information didn’t help as much as they thought it did.
he didn’t care that he wasn’t a vessel (as much as one couldn’t care about such a thing) so much as he was ignored. you fought by ningguang’s side and helped yanfei out of the chasm, but he’d never even heard his name thrown your direction. it could be argued that he was being selfish or even egotistical, but he didn’t think so. sword and strongbox secure transport agency was a well-known name throughout liyue, and yet you’d never so much as heard a rumor. it didn’t affect his business—nor did he want your attention for business purposes—but with you helping a film show (at least now he knew you enjoyed theater) in fontaine, he may or may not have been hoping that yilong wharf’s name might have been passed your way.
it hadn’t been, though. his days went on and he continued his rounds as usual, doing his best to promote his dance and maybe getting a few mora thrown his way in return if he was lucky.
but that was fine. irritating, sure, but fine. liyue was in the tail end of preparations for this year’s lantern rite, and he was set on attending. as soon as the ministry of civil affairs opened applications for performers, he’d done his best to secure himself a stage. nobody had given him a secure word, though, saying that it was “up to divine guidance” as if your traveler hadn’t taken the transport up to the jade chamber last week. yes, you often found other things to do during lantern rite, digging into liyue’s past, but you still attended the scheduled events. you still walked the streets and saw the stalls, and there was no way that the entirety of the main road was already taken up when he’d made a point of asking early.
it was because they saw him as a guard first and a dancer second. most people did, and he was lucky they’d given him uncertainty over a guaranteed rejection. the only reason they did at all was because of the constellation etched into his vision, and he was lucky to have that too. he was lucky to have this chance when most street performers could only dream of performing at the lantern rite.
‘lucky.’ it was an accurate word, but one he was beginning to get tired of hearing.
it was fine, though. he was determined—his vision blazed as he left the ministry’s office, a constant warmth at his side—to prove himself, determined to perform for you. he didn’t know when his chance in the stars would be, or when he’d have his time by your side, but he would make the most of each day until then. when, not if, he did, he would do everything in his power to make the best impression possible.
he gave a few polite waves to various merchants as he walked through liyue, making the familiar trek over the bridge and past the gate. the millelith didn’t stop him, and he didn’t stop to say hello, only lingering long enough to acknowledge them with a quick nod. he knew liyue’s hills and they knew he did too, easily navigating to a quiet, flat space of plain. the threat of hillichurls was a constant outside the harbor, but he didn’t let that stop him, confident despite the growing twilight.
ga ming reached into his inventory and pulled on his mask, hands easily finding the controls for the massive puppet. he took a breath, then began to dance, his feet sweeping over the quiet grass.
he had no guarantee when or if he’d receive the chance to chance to win your favor. but if you chose to have him on your stage, he was determined to put on the best show you’d ever seen.
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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xianyun and nahida's banners just dropped and the 4*s are kinda-
we got ga-ming but faruzan and noelle are definitely a choice
- curse anon
you could argue noelle is from the poetry event, but faruzan… yeah that’s certainly A Four Star
although, she is supposedly a pretty good anemo support/sub dps, right? with xianyun (and xiao just around the corner) it makes sense to add her on there. since 1) nahida is a support 2) they’re likely trying to push xianyun 3) xianyun is probably a dps (no i haven’t seen her skill cards yet and i’m not going to until she releases) (lied, she’s like. a healer. so??) so that makes sense to me
in the end, i don’t mind. so long as ga ming is on the banner, we live we laugh and we love
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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DOTTORE ON THE FAVORITE HARBINGERS LIST ITS A WIN FOR DOTTORE LOVERS LETS GO
- top % dottore lover curse anon
dottore on the favorite harbinger list in the same way you cant look away from a car crash. i love him so much and i need him put into an olive press. he needs to be examined under a microscope. have i privately written [checks notes] over 8k words about him, going into unnecessary depth into about various segments and the basics of his lab and how it functions? yeah. but i'm a star detective and he's the criminal always just barely evading capture, you know? maybe i'm letting him get away. you can't prove anything.
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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I’m sorry if I’m misunderstanding something but isn’t Ka Ming (I’m from HK and this is how we transliterate that name) available on the 4* selector for lantern rite?
- cryo anon
yep, he will be! he's a four star from liyue, so you can pick him during the lantern rite. what the previous ask was referring to was his banner rate up, which is only on the first phase, with xianyun and nahida. they were saying that he wouldn't have a boosted drop rate in xiao/[whoever is beside him i forget]'s banners.
oh, and don't be sorry! it's alright :]
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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Who is your favourite harbinger? You can go into specifics if you like btw (ex. Who's your favourite harbinger based on backstory, design, etc.) :D
🪷 anon
YOU HAVE OPENED SEVERAL CANS OF WORMS. NONE OF WHICH ARE IN ANY PARTICULAR ORDER.
off the bat, starting with a generally agreeable opinion: childe, the eleventh. i love him. i love my insane son and his [spoiler for liyue archon quest, yes including the part involving the sea. god forbid a woman does anything]. i need him to be happy. hes my wife. what else do i have to say.
second, in terms of like... role? arlecchino. were it not for her treatment of freminet (that one vl thats "[she] says tears are a sign of weakness" or whatever) then she'd be great all around. even that can change a bit depending on the context in which she said that. also there was the time she [spoilers for fontaine archon quest, involves furina, if you know you know] which is objectively a bad thing to do. i love her hair and eyes and general design, the idea of the house of the hearth as a whole is so crunchy. she's a great representation of a father figure, fucking up her kids' emotional health and all. i know i said in no particular order but she is on the lower end.
next, off themes, sandrone. me when puppetteer imagery. katheryne. ive seen fanart speculating that she's a doll herself and. spectacular. columbina for similar reasons. i need her to be unhinged. she's so pretty and i need her to be a siren Right Now. showstopping.
backstory, said very lightly, is dottore. there's no like trauma or anything hes just a fucked up guy and thats great. he killed his girlfriend for no reason. spoilers for sumeru archon quest. i hate him so much but i love that he's just Like That. someone play 'born this way' by lady gaga. he's evil for no reason other than to be evil that's so good and swag of him. i don't condone any of his actions but i want to be there to watch how bad he gets. also hes pretty or whatever but primarily i love how much i want him dead. all of him.
design. pantalone. you agree.
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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i hate to break it to you but im pretty sure ga-ming is on phase one with xianyun and nahida-
- curse anon
…..FUCK i forgot that four stars switch between banners
it’s ok it’s fine it’s fine i’ll just. <- not ok
i guess i’ll just have to hope he comes home early? i don’t want/need nahida and yeah xianyun’s cool or wtv but i don’t exactly want her. all things hoping i’ll have super late pity on five stars and real early on him
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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Also, im one 10 pull away from getting a 5*. My pity is HARDCORE right now at 83. Lets hope its either Raiden, Tighnari or Dehya.
-🥘Stew
ALSO GOOD LUCK AND GODSPEED SOLDIER 🫡
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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I've been withholding this urge of going full aunt/uncle on Gaming, to squish his cheeks together and cooing at this BABY.
But NO MORE! NO MORE, SAY I!
(But, heh, BUTT, since Gaming has yet to be UNLEASHED UPON THIS WORLD, i would do with EVERYONE, so here, a SQUISH for YOU, a Squish for -shroom, a Squish for Cig, and a Squish FOR EVERYONE, YOU GET A SQUISH, HE GETS A SQUISH, EVERYBODY COME GET A SQUISH!)
-🥘Stew
give in. squish the gaming. it’s good for your mental health.
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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To pull or not to pull, i have a problem.
I wanna save for the next banners, but im also interested in pulling for raiden. But i also might lose 50/50, giving me an advantage for another character...
-🥘Stew
ooh, this is a tough one
from what i know of the shogun n her kit, she’s a really nice support, but it honestly depends on your team! im a strong supporter of pulling for who you want and not who you “need” in my book because you’re the one playing the character so you should be Enjoying yourself, so it’s ultimately up to you ! whatever you decide i hope you have fun, and remember you have a lot of time to make your decision, plus she’ll always have a re run !
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m1d-45 · 2 months
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(Hahahaha I totally didn't forget about tumblr for a hot second what do you mean...)
Anyways, more silly questions of mine! Would you rather have all your characters be C6 but have none of their signature weapons, or have all of your weapons be R5 but never get the cons you want?
🪷 anon
VERY GOOD QUESTION
broadly, i don’t pull for sig weapons anyway (though i am often very very tempted for aesthetic reasons), so having easy c6s would be preferred! c6s improve so much of their kits—my kuki reached c6 recently and it’s a literal lifesaver—compared to the boost from weapons, and yeah i only have three five star weapons but me and The Gang are doing very well as they are!
side note, i leveled my wrio recently and his normal attacks are insane. in terms of raw damage my heizou still takes it for his skill (like 80k or something last i checked?) but getting 11k combos is still so satisfying, especially when i know he can be improved upon still!
(if you’re like. a wrio main wondering why that’s low, it’s because i have terrible luck with artifacts. we make do and then Forget To Ever Improve Again)
thank you for the question and have a great day or night!
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