izzienae
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Summary
fer·ma·ta fer-ˈmä-tə: a prolongation at the discretion of the performer of a musical note, chord, or rest beyond its given time value.
Five times the music played and one time there was silence.
Bookmarked by izzienae
20 Feb 2026
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Summary
There is one particular wisp that amuses the God of Time.
There is one particular wisp that the God of Time loves.
There is one particular wisp that became a dear child to the God of Time.
Series
- Part 1 of Mother & Child
- Part 2 of Venti-verse
Bookmarked by izzienae
16 Feb 2026
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An obscure research paper from Mondstadt about the lesser known divine epithets of Barbatos unexpectedly causes a stir in Liyue, as some very old mysteries and gaps in Morax’s mythology suddenly gain answers.
Or: “Celestia be damned, I will make sure historians remember us as ‘very close friends’ because that’s what you get for leaving me alone for so long,” the fic.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 12,867
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Comments:
- 215
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- 1,415
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Bookmarked by izzienae
05 Feb 2026
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“So…” Zhongli narrows his eyes. “What is it you do for a living, exactly?”
“Ah,” Venti says brightly, flipping his half-burnt pancake over the stove, “I’m a salesman.”
It becomes obvious that it’s a lie the first time Venti comes back to the apartment covered in blood.
AU: In which Zhongli is a century-old ghost living out a life of half-existence, forced to haunt the tiny apartment in which he died, unable to interact with anything or anyone in the living world. Until one day, in moves a loud-mouthed internationally wanted criminal with a flippant attitude towards death, who just so happens to have the unique ability to see and speak to ghosts.
Series
- Part 1 of zhongven ghostverse
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 14,777
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Comments:
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Bookmarked by izzienae
02 Feb 2026
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“The Anemo Archon is in danger. He collapsed and has not woken for days. We have reason to suspect an elemental affliction, but we—”
“What?” Zhongli does not raise his voice. But it feels as though the rest of the world goes silent instead, as though the earth itself shudders and echoes in his wake.
“Is he hurting?” he asks, voice dipping sharply on the last syllable.
Amber tries to read his expression: that stony, unshakeable surface, and the tremors that lurk underneath. “No,” she responds, as gently as possible.
There’s a taut silence. Zhongli looks back at her, and as she meets that gaze, she thinks of her yeye’s stories, stories of his homeland and its god-protector: that exalted figure who stood like a pillar through the storm, who conquered fear at every battle, who time and time again stared down death unflinching. And as Amber remembers these stories, it terrifies her to think: what could make someone like that afraid?
“Take me to him,” Morax says finally. “I must see him.”