Alright let me try this again.
What if Reader vented to Birb Xiao, not knowing that it was actually him?
They talk about their fears and frustrations, letting out all the words they've wanted to tell a person, but they have to settle for their pretty bird because no one will listen.
So Xiao is just sitting there, resting in the True Creator's hands, listening as he gets a glimpse of how they truly feel.
They say the milileth is like a raging stampede with their spears and swords. They say how the Qixing all seem so cold and unfeeling. They talk about how Zhongli genuinely terrifies them, because he acted so kind to others but was borderline cruel when hunting them.
They talk about Xiao, too, but they don't seem to have many complaints. They haven't seen him in a while, and the last time they crossed paths with him, he just... let them run. The adeptus had looked angry, but also a bit startled (and perhaps, a bit guilty?) at the sight of them. They even once overheard him leading milileth soldiers astray ("by mistake" says the creator, but Xiao knows the truth) by saying the creator had left a while ago, when really, they were still very nearby. While they say they are still a bit scared of him, they don't fear him as much as they fear the others.
All the while, Xiao sits, still as a stone. He takes in every word, every shaky breath and darting glance. He nuzzles into their hand, hoping to offer even the slightest bit of comfort.
He hopes that they continue to be unafraid of him in the future.
-Sibling Anon
he who is without sin
a/n: decided to make this one a full fic for no reason in particular (i don’t have an actual post shhhh)
word count: 1.1k
-> warnings: imposter sagau things, minor blood mention, spoilers for xiao lore, some spoilers for liyue (like names and titles of people/places)
-> gn!reader (you/yours)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay
< masterlist > (has context for bird!xiao if you’re lost)
from the moment that xiao was saved, when his new name was bestowed upon him and he signed his contract with morax, xiao had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.
one to you, his creator.
a pledge to stand by your side, a clause written in by the god that forged his original contract, releasing him from his duties to liyue to serve the one that had granted him life. a permanent extra sweep to his duties, always on the lookout for the highest god above all.
however, he was not the first to find… ‘you.’
‘you’ had landed in sumeru, nested in the large tree surrounding the akademiya. ‘you’ had climbed down, introduced ‘yourself’ to the sages with a smile. everybody was quick to give ‘you’ the glory rightly the creator’s, ushering ‘you’ atop a throne of silver and gold, offerings laid at ‘your’ feet with all the haste of those deprived of the divine.
xiao may have hung back at the beginning, unwilling to allow his karma to infect ‘your’ other worshippers, but he still did his duty. he still kept ‘your’ path clear of enemies, and was the first to pick up his blade when word broke of your imposter.
and yet, when he laid eyes upon the one he was supposed to hate, he was the first to repent.
xiao took a shaking breath, crossing his arms around himself. “morax?”
the elder god turned, amber eyes soft. “what is it, xiao?”
xiao marched through dihua marsh, polearm gripped tightly in his hand. a large hilichurl camp had been reported, which while not an issue normally, was the third in the last four days.
irritation was openly displayed on his face, the anemo around him simmering with his anger. why did the abyss have to act up now, when they were on a hunt? surely even they, as infected and riddled with darkness as they were, worshipped a god? or was that the source of their evil?
he kept marching north, only turning his head at the sound of a soft gasp.
“how will i know when the creator arrives?”
morax smiled, not upset like xiao had anticipated. “don’t worry about such things. when the time comes-“
you stood on the path branching west, eyes wide. you looked nearly exactly like the ’you’ on the throne, the same cool eyes that called for your death now wide and staring at him in fear.
“-you will know.”
you turned on your heel, your armful of sunsettias tumbling to the floor, but… xiao did not chase you.
instead he brought a hand to chest, under his necklace. he pressed, feeling the still-regular beat of his heart.
he pressed, searching for the place where his karma used to be.
from the moment that xiao realized the truth, when his new duty was bestowed upon him, he had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.
one to you, his creator.
he flew down from the sky, landing in your outstretched hand. he chirped a greeting, body relaxing under your gentle touch.
“hello there, friend,” you cooed, sitting straighter under the tree. your tree, the one you kept coming back to, the one he always directed other adepti away from because it was for you, not them. not him.
you fed him as usual, but stayed strangely silent. no stories of the kindness mitachurls showed you, no update on how close or far the people searching for you had gotten, none of the usual things he looked forward to. you just… sat. watching him in your hand, an emotion he didn’t know the name of drawing your brows close.
maybe you just didn’t want to talk today? but if something was troubling you, he wanted you to share, to allow him some of the weight off your shoulders. then again, he was just a bird to you…
“do you know ganyu, pretty bird?”
xiao froze, thankful he was facing your palm so you couldn’t see his eyes widening.
“i thought i did.”
he looked up, carefully, daring to meet your eyes. this time, he could pin down what you were feeling: betrayal.
his finch heart burned.
your thumb pet over his wings, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. not now.
“i thought she was kind.”
she was, he knew firsthand. how she worried over the tianquan, fretted over her skills both with a bow and with a pen, how her and the yuheng kept each other afloat in the sea of endless work assigned to the jade chamber.
you smiled. it was bitter. “i guess i should have known better regarding the adepti.”
xiao’s heartbeat raced in his ears, something hot burning a hole in his chest. he was an adeptus, he wanted to say, he could be trusted.
but you didn’t know him as an adeptus. you knew him as your little songbird, your friend, the one you continued to risk your life for, even if you didn’t know it.
he chirped once, somber. he wanted to apologize, to take up his blade against his own king on your behalf, to walk up to the fraud’s throne and watch them bleed red.
but you didn’t need that. so he sat in your hand, leaning into your fingers, and let you speak.
as it turned out, today had been a busy day for you. you had wandered into the path of a millelith patrol, which had happened before, but not with keqing at the head of it. not when she had darted forward in a flash of lighting, electro arcing along her sword. not when she’d pulled out and blew a special whistle even as you ran, one that you couldn’t hear but could feel under your skin, taunting you as you tried to navigate the maze of bishui plain.
when you told him of ganyu’s frostflake arrows, he wanted to cry. when you described the anger in zhongli’s eyes, he started to weep.
you didn’t deserve this pain. you didn’t deserve having to outrun planet befall, you didn’t deserve to fear your life being stolen by those who should protect you at all costs- he should have been there. he was south, too far south to hear the whistle, but he should have been called.
he should have protected you.
under the shifting leaves of a sandbearer tree, your songbird cried. and you, none the wiser, continued to spell out the cause of his torment.
.
2K notes
·
View notes
How Inkfish Change their Ink Colour
Here's an extremely long, (poorly) illustrated speculatory post about how ink and inksports could THEORETICALLY work in Splatoon! yippee!
Ink is a mucous that Inklings, Octolings and Cuttlings produce with their ink sac, where it can be expelled through the mouth and siphon (and through the skin via the ink vessels, but don't worry about that just yet). You can take a look at my diagram of the ink vessels here.
Spitting up or sweating ink is a common stress response in ink-bearing cephalopods, it also serves as an extremely rude gesture if you happen to aim it at someone else's face.
Inkfish actually can't change ink colour on their own, so instead they have to rely on artificial means to brighten and saturate the colour into something more easily recognisable.
The history behind inksports is extensive. In ancient times, inkfish would use naturally occurring dyes (such as clay, plants etc.) to change their ink colour, often to denote a particular social group. In modern times, colours are artificially synthesised and treated to have a minimal impact on the inkfish's body as possible, as believe it or not constantly eating red clay wasn't exactly good for you.
The colour of an Inkling or Octoling's skin is determined by chromatophores, which can be basically any colour or shade they choose. The chromatophores function completely independently from the ink sac, so it's possible to have differing skin and ink colours (although you'd probably confuse your teammates a fair bit).
This is fine and cool and all, but how do inkfish prevent different team colours from just blending all together in a match? WELL! While turfing capsules also change ink colour, they can also alter the chemical qualities of the ink itself by introducing something called polarity!
There are two kinds of turfing ink- polar and nonpolar. In easy terms (I am not a chemist), it's what allows two different colours of ink to sit on top of each other in separate layers instead of diluting together like paint. Before a match starts, each turfing team is given dye capsules in their respective team colour, with each team having opposing polarities to prevent inks from mixing together during the game.
Before technology got involved, people would simply use oil and water to prevent one ink colour from mixing with another's. Nowadays, oil and fat derivatives are commonplace as it's less likely to cause health problems as the body slowly processes it out.
Splatting works when enemy ink reacts with the outermost ink vessels in an opposing team member's skin, forcing the victim to contract their ink sac and spit up all their ink (usually in the form of a super-jump back to spawn, though in the moment it's not uncommon to overshoot it). It's also possible to splat someone with blunt force trauma, but we tend to call that assault. Splatting is usually not dangerous, but it's still not a terribly pleasant experience and is somewhat painful, akin to a nasty static shock.
This splatting reaction is also why water is used in turf stages as a restrictive barrier, as water causes the same splatting reaction in the body as enemy ink does (at least until the dye wears off).
Okay that's all I got, I'm not gonna go into ink weapon mechanics because I'm tired... perhaps another day haha. Hopefully that all made sense and I apologise deeply if it didn't. Feel free to shoot me an ask if something needs to be cleared up or explained in further detail haha
276 notes
·
View notes