Too Tight

Too Tight

MASTERLIST

TW: Body dysphoria, gender dysphoria, gender being wacky, Traveler Aether, Aether being a weird alien creature, Game mechanics taken seriously, implied genderfluid Aether, no actual ending. Ventfic.

~ It was all too tight.

Like a T-shirt at the bottom of the drawer that you swear you couldn't fit into, but your mom said you had to wear.

His Her Their Its wings were confined to the body, no bones nor muscle, yet tight all the same.

It was all too tight.

Like the suffocating feeling of being called the wrong name, of being called Lumine when they he she it was Aether.

But it was... manageable.

But the wings aren't there.

The limbs aren't there and Aether still panics.

If Aether closed her their his its eyes and pretended to Be, it was easier.

But Aether nor Lumine were not human.

So Aether became.

Clothes would change to fit, hair and eyes, bones and all. Their memories would meld with Aether's own, and Aether would simple become.

Aether, he, she, they, it, became whatever Aether needed to be.

And the tight, filthy itch would settle.

Aether looked in the mirror and saw Amber staring back at her.

And she felt nothing but relief. To know that the itch that plagued her would stop, so long as she obey her subconscious and become.

But Outrider Amber is a public figure, so Aether simply doesn't.

He She They It walks alone as him her them it -self and deals with the itch.

Aether looked into the mirror and wanted to become, to stop it, to let wings be free, to let Aether be him her them it self but Aether can't. Shouldn't.

Aether fights.

Alone, for commissions, so that Aether can become.

They can fight. He can deal with the itch. Or sometimes, it stops it completely. She makes the shirt less tight, or sometimes makes it tighter.

Aether wants to become, but he she they it just can't.

To steal a face, to steal a form, to free from that tight shirt, to scratch the itch...

Aether shouldn't take it. Their forms, their faces, their memories and personalities.

But even still, He She They It becomes.

The doorway is real, the rest is airbrushed graffiti. 

@vile_graffiti

To Dream of Reality (And Live Within Dreams) ~1~

MASTERLIST

TW: Tonal shift, no actual genshin characters, this is creator/reader-centric, Denial of reality, a Creator who tires of the real world

You are a normal person.

Completely and wholly average.

Be it schooling or your profession, you are stressed nonetheless.

You have been playing Genshin in your free time, and sleeping whenever you can.

You have been dreaming well, of something. What exactly it was, you don't know.

But you have been dreaming, and because of that, you have been resting well.

But there is an "Itch" underneath your skin, a sense of unease, a sense of "Wrongness."

Each glance in the mirror, each word you speak, each step and breath feels… wrong, like a t-shirt on too tight or poorly tailored….robes, meant for another.

Robes?

…

It feels inherently wrong, like something's just… not quite there.

Like limbs are missing, limbs you didn't even know you had.

Like words are evading your mind from a language that doesn't exist…

Like your dream is reality, and reality is a dream.

But even still, you merely stand up from your bed and prepare for the daily grind once again. Your dream can wait.

...you still wonder what you'll dream of tonight.

Oh my gosh I’m your first anon! If you want I can be 💕 anon!

Thanks for writing my request you’re amazing!💕

Thank you, 💕 Anon!

I love love love your dream series it's so good hngg

What about the Creator checking up on Venti and Diluc at Angel's Share since we're already in Mondstadt? 👀

To Dream of Reality ~Venti 1, Diluc 1~

“encounter, and closure”

MASTERLIST

TWs: Alcohol usage, venti being drunk as per the usual, Kaeya and Diluc backstory referenced.

~~

You were exhausted. How much work did you make up, how much did you have to do for them, bending over backward to assist…?

You didn’t like alcohol. The buzz it offered only paved the way to pain in the morning, and the flavor was honestly just alright.

But Angel’s Share seemed wonderful despite all that. The music, the atmosphere… Maybe, if you could just be there, you could relax and enjoy it. 

~

It was a rare evening when Master Ragnvindr attended the bar in Angel’s Share. A rare, precious occasion to behold.

The door swung open, and the drunkards froze.

The Creator had descended, and was here. In a tavern. Filled with sad, laughing, horny, crying drunks.

“Your Grace,” Diluc began, “How may we serve you?”

Many of the drunkards stayed silent, merely watching the Creator from afar. But perhaps the most famous of the drunkards didn’t catch the memo.

“Your Benevolence, it’s an honor to see you again~!” 

The green-clad bard could not help but tangle his fingers with the pale stranger, smiling wide as he tugged the God into an impromptu dance. 

“Venti.” Diluc called as he tugged the bard back by the collar. “Your Grace, may we help you?”

They watched, silent, as the god ran their hand through Venti’s hair, their smile gentle and soft. 

Jealousy flared in his chest as he watched Venti of all people retrieve the affection of the Almighty Divine. 

And yet, before he could make his usual retort, arms gently wrapped around him. He looked down, wondering if he was dreaming, if all of this was an illusion crafted for him, another escapist dream to ignore the dawning sun. 

There was no mistake. 

The Creator was embracing him. 

The Creator was hugging him.

“You’ve done well. You’ve worked hard.” The Creator’s whispers were… personal. Warm. Like all his worries could melt away, like all the wrongs in the world had been righted. There was comfort in simply knowing that such comfort did exist. It wasn’t that he was exhausted, but something about the warmth, something about that comfort seemed to be beckoning him to rest. 

And as suddenly as the embrace came, it melted away, the Creator’s touch featherlight as they pulled Venti up, his hair once again fondled as his head was cradled by the Divine. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes, Your Grace. I’m- I’m great, thanks.”

“Good,” they smiled, sitting down at the bar counter before motioning to Diluc. “May I?” they asked, pointing to the cider on the menu. Wordlessly, Diluc served one, holding his breath as the Creator sipped it. 

The Creator’s smile was so… 

Perfect.

A bright smile that lit up the entire tavern, the candles paling in comparison to the radiance their smile gave off.

Literally.

“Your Grace, have we done well?” Venti sang, cuddling up to the Almighty Divine.

“Your people are free and you enjoy your every day, yes?” They said, leaning down to the bard’s ear. “And though your Gnosis has been taken and your throne cast aside, you still care for your people as if they were your own children.”

Diluc’s hands lingered over an empty glass, wondering if he was intruding.

“And you,” The Creator began, “Have worked tirelessly to remove corruption, and you once bitten, now twice shy, fear the vulnerability that love can bring. Do be aware that reconciliation is but a single conversation away, and that He has been bitten twice.”

They knew, Diluc realized. 

…Maybe he should talk to Kaeya one more time.

Not for the Creator's will, but perhaps for his own good.

The Creator simply looked at him.

His own good as well as Kaeya's...?

Once more, their hand extended outward as they beckoned towards Diluc and Venti. Their hand buried itself into Venti’s hair before they glanced at Diluc, who leaned down to meet the other hand of the Creator. 

I wish I could stay here longer. I don’t want to leave. My people and children… Teyvat is precious and- 

Foregin thoughts filled Diluc’s mind. They were not his own thoughts, the voice was far too… unharmed to be him. Too light, too bright, too divine. A strange sensation clawed at his heart. 

“Do you have to go, Your Grace?” Venti whispered, and Diluc understood what the feeling was.

Longing.

“Your Grace, we will always have a place for you.” Diluc added on, grasping the hand that glided through his hair.

“I don’t want to leave,” Their Creator whispered, tears forming in their eyes as they called out. “Wait for me, please. I’ll- I’ll return.”

There was no flash of light, nor grand spell that announced the Creator’s departure; simply silence and the loss of warmth.

~~~

You woke not to the taste of your own morning-breath, but to the faint taste of apples and the phantom touch of someone’s warmth on your palms, the faint touch of a given embrace on your arms.

You lived alone, and you hadn’t had apple juice since-

A long while.

You were homesick, but not for your parents’ home where you spent much of your young life.

But perhaps, for something you’ve never seen before…

Your dreams are pleasant, and you cannot help but wonder who you dreamt of, to make you wish for a home you never had.

But the day must go on, and you cannot linger on memories.

To Dream of Reality ~Glory~

"visitor, and message"

MASTERLIST

A/N: Mond's reaction to the arrival of the True Divine, the Almighty Creator, but really it's just Glory... and also please do send me asks, I work better with prompts.

TW: The blind NPC from Mond, "a siren's call," and white lies... Or half truths.

Sometimes, as you slave away at work, chiseling at your pile of assignments slowly and carefully, your mind wanders. You dream, sometimes, of just walking around Mondstadt, of the scent of Good Hunter's food, of the sound of Katheryne's voice, of what could be.

The dream is enrapturing, enticing, and all devouring. Sometimes, it's all you can think about.

~

"Did you hear, They've descended!"

"Tell Master Jean that They're by the gate!"

"Y-Your Grace!"

Their God walked over the bridge, smiling as the pigeons didn't scatter. Their hand traced Timmie's own, their headpat soft.

"Excuse me," they asked the guard. "Is something wrong?"

"Nope, can we help you, s-strange yet respectable traveler?" Swan asked, the harsh gaze of passerby making him shiver. What was he supposed to do, go against the handbook?

"Oh, then, thank you for your hard work!" the Divine said, walking through the gate, mingling with the townsfolk.

The Creator's presence was absolute. Even if their physical form was as normal and mundane as the townsfolk, the mark their soul gave off was radiant.

Not that Glory could see it.

She had heard the commotion and wonder on the wind when a new pattern of footsteps clattered upon the floor.

"May I rest here?"

The voice was soft and sweet, a language unfamiliar yet understood. She nodded. The bench shook a little, the force of the stranger- nay, the Creator- caused the bench to squeak.

"If I may be so bold, have you heard anything from Godwin?"

The Creator smiled. Glory did not know how she knew that the Creator was smiling, but they did, and she knew.

"He's working hard, in his own way, to hurry home with pride."

No lies slipped through their lips. Glory knew somehow, that the words were true, despite not knowing the language. It was instinctual, heartwarming, and strangely familial.

Before Glory could offer her thanks, a soft whimper came off of her bench-partner.

"...Five more minutes."

The weight on the bench seemed to vanish, and the comfortable warmth in the air turned cold.

...

Glory had only spoken for no longer than a minute, but somehow, she felt as if a close friend had left.

~

You woke to a familiar alarm, with no memory of your dream, as per the usual.

And yet, a single phrase stuck in your mind.

"Your Grace."

The words were not spoken in any language you knew, but it was familiar all the same.

Like a siren call, you felt as if listening to it would complete your life.

And you turn away as you prepare to face the day once more.