#once i get over my art block i will share drawings of mingyu. one day

[miomines]

ignorance is bliss

cw: there's some death of unnamed background characters. not intensely described but it's there

hi i can't stop writing mingyu. idk why throwing an oc into sagau is so fun to write but im vibing with it i like being apart of this even if it's extremely self indulgent

Tao is a wonderful travel companion but that doesn't stop you from noticing things about him that are just a bit off. Sometimes you think that maybe it's just your imagination, maybe you're just seeing things. After all, being on the run with all of Teyvat looking for you is incredibly stressful. 

It doesn't change what you notice. Overlooking the strange habits only seems to bring more of them to your attention. It piles up.

Tao never seems to sleep. When you offered to take first watch one night, he just shook his head and nudged you with his shoulder. "Sleep," he had said. "I'm not the one being hunted down. You need the rest." He never wakes you to watch over him while he rests. It's like he never does.

He has a plethora of weapons, hidden in his clothes or in plain sight. You don't know how many he has. Tao has peeled apples in front of you with nearly twenty different knives that just seemingly appear. That's not even mentioning his clawed jewelry. Perhaps just an accessory but the way he dug them into the skin of one of your attackers says otherwise. They're sharp enough to cause grave harm, yet when he runs his fingers through your hair it's as if they never cut through the skin of enemies like scissors to paper.

(You try not to think of all the harm he caused. He's just defending you both. They're the ones hunting you down. When he bandages any wounds you avoid thinking about the cold metal touching your skin. Forever stained by the blood of your hunters.)

Some days it's almost as if he's a completely different person. Tao just brushes it off as being in a good mood but there's still something strange about it. Tao's normal expression is, for the lack of a better description, a resting bitch face. It makes his laugh and fond smiles much more rewarding. He's quiet, calm when not in battle, and treats you gently.

The days where he's 'in a good mood' (as he describes it) is what makes it strange. He's louder, more excitable, and it can occasionally be endearing. He shares stories of his adventures around Teyvat with a sharp grin, arm swung across your shoulders as he leads you around. The single time you've seen him in battle when he's like this was terrifying.

(It was like a massacre. Usually he keeps anything particularly bloody out of your sight but it's as if he didn't even care that time. Electro sparking, dancing, between the metal claws attached to his fingers as he tore skin and bone apart. You couldn't look away even though you wanted to and the feeling only increases when he turns to you with a bright grin. As if he didn't just strewn your hunters' remains all across the field.)

He's closer, more expressive, more affectionate. He'll place a single clawed fingertip underneath your chin and simply stare. It always feels like Tao sees more than he lets on, especially when he's in these moods. He'll sense unease and simply grin, tapping your nose before he moves on.

It's obvious to everyone that Tao is an electro user, evident by the vision pinned to his waist. He doesn't have a pyro vision. There's no explanation for how he's able to use pyro. He changes the subject when you ask, or he simply grins and taps your nose. There's nothing on his person that signifies a delusion. When you set up camp for the night, he's the one to alway set up the fire. He seems content next to the flames and sometimes you think you see the fire as it tries to dance closer to your companion.

Surely you're just seeing things, right?

When he tears apart a piece of raw meat with teeth too sharp to be a human, you look the other way.

When he settles down for the night and mumbles things to himself as if he's in a conversation not known to you, you look the other way.

When he stares at the remains of Liú Manor with a nearly smug expression, you look the other way.

When he appears next to you with no sound, no indication that he even approached, you look the other way.

When he speaks of events that happened nearly fifty years in the past as if he were witnessing them first hand, you look the other way.

When you wake up early one morning to see him settling down next to you, smelling of blood, ash and ozone, you look the other way.

When he hurriedly pushes you past what looks to be an exorcist looking for something, an urgency not lost on you, you look the other way. 

When you stare at his eyes, the clouded milky grey of his right eye and the rich brown of his left, as he stares into your surroundings as if he sees something that you can't, you look the other way.

When he scowls in disgust whenever someone mentions the Seven Archons, avoiding each statue of them in a practiced motion, you look the other way.

Tao is your perfectly normal travel companion.

You ignore anything that says otherwise.

[jaeminlore]

share the street » minghao

- prompt: maybe like a lil scenario where the reader is a spray paint artist and Minghao is a street performer, and they both work on the same street and become interested in the other's work (and also each other). words: 1014 category: fluff, blurb a/n: here you go darling, sorry it's short

- You made sure the respirator mask was secure over your nose and mouth before you began to paint. The purple spray paint quickly covered the blank white canvas. Onlookers watched in fascination as you created a piece to sell to them. You continued tracing the petals on your flower mural, no care in the world for anything save you and your art. Usually you simply wrote encouraging phrases in bright colors and beautiful fonts. Other days, when you didn't really feel up for encouragement, you liked to draw pictures. It seemed to be one of those days, for all you could bring yourself to paint were random flowers and butterflies. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" a voice startled you into dropping your nearly empty can.

You spun around, wondering if it was some rude passerby who wanted to insult your art. Instead, it was just a boy. He wasn't that much taller than you, but the thinness of his limbs gave the illusion that he was. His eyes were narrowed in a curious fashion and his eyebrows were raised with expectation. He wore skinny jeans and a white muscle shirt. You thought the flannel shirt around his waist was a bit much, but you weren't going to tell him that. You wondered why he was looking at you so strangely "Who are you?" "I'm Minghao," he smirked, "and you're in my spot." The walkway you had taken refuge on today was indeed different from your previous painting spot. However, competition had gotten rough over there and you hadn't been up to fighting people over your art. After bending down to grab another can of spray paint, you shook it and glared at him. "Maybe I am. What's it to you?" "Nothing," he shrugged, "Just . . . this is where I dance. People come here to watch me perform." Your eyes trailed down his figure, to the small boom box he held firmly in his hands. "Then perform. There's plenty of room here for the both of us." It wasn't a bluff; the walkway was wide and long. Here, you were closer to the intercity, where many high class people never visited. Because of this, the walkways were fairly empty save the occasional homeless person or street seller. Other people besides passerbys and tourists included performers and artists like yourself. Here, you could set up a small shop and let people see your airbrushed designs on a canvas. They could even purchase the piece for a low price, if they liked it enough.

Your words appeased the so-called Minghao, and he walked to the other side of you. As he stretched his limbs, the group of people who had been so diligently watching you, were now trying to figure out what he was doing. Once the music started and the boy began to dance, more than half of your clientele turned to watched him dance. As much as you felt like you shouldn't have, you stopped and watched him as well. The two of you shared a street now; it was vital you knew how good of a competitor he was. And he was good. Even you felt compelled to toss a couple of dollars into his hat as he moved this way and that. You couldn't place the song, but you felt the emotion of it through the way he moved his body. It was beautiful. When the next song started, it was a struggle to turn back to your work. - You finished painting what looked to be the moon lowering behind a clear blue lake. Most of the people had left since the day was almost over. Only a few stranglers came by, and they were more interested in the fortune teller across the street than a simple spray paint artist like yourself. Once the painting was finished and you felt satisfied, you pulled the mask down and let it rest against your neck as you tucked a few flyaway strands of hair behind your ear. You glanced over at Minghao. He had diligently danced all day, save the occasional bathroom or snack break. A crowd had always seemed to be around his talented figure. He was stretching now. He moved lazily, as if all his strength had left him for the day. At one point you were almost convinced that he was going to fall over. Suddenly, he looked up from his toe-touch and locked eyes with you. His lips broke into a smile, "Have you ever had Korean tacos?" You twisted your mouth in confusion. "What are Korean tacos?" "I don't know," Minghao admitted, "but they're delicious. My friend Mingyu makes them just a few blocks down from here, if you want to come with me." With an offer too good to resist, and a boy too friendly to reject, you agreed. That's how you found yourself sitting at a small counter, eating Korean tacos and laughing with Minghao and his chef friend, Mingyu. "You'll never guess what I overheard this woman ask Y/n today, Mingyu," Minghao chattered on, his hands too busy explaining his story to aid him in eating. "She asked if Y/n could paint her as a mermaid." Mingyu chuckled and turned to you, his eyes shining, "People really do that?" "Only all the time," you said, taking a sip of your water. "It's okay, though. I mean, I'm getting paid for it." "So are you and Minghao on the same street?" Mingyu asked. "For now," you said, "I tend to follow the customers, so I'll probably head upstate to the boardwalk by the time summer comes around." "That's a good idea," Minghao said. The two of you finished your tacos. The always looming threat of falling asleep itched it's way up your back and you found yourself yawning into your elbow. "This was lovely guys, but I need to leave now if I'm gonna get a full night's sleep. Minghao blinked innocently, "You'll come back tomorrow, won't you? To my street?" "Of course I will. After all, it's my street now too." »the end��