#reader has thoughts

Wet Socks. Ew. The fucking texture; not a fan… who's playing music..?...

—DID SOMETHING JUST TOUCH YOUR FOOT

AWE WHAT THE F U C K—

The fastest adrenaline-filled wake-up call of your life leaves you a tad dizzy.

Okay. New 'what-the-fuck' question. What the fuck are you doing in a pond — puddle — swamp?

Oh god the moisture. You're gonna start molding, get trench foot, or an infection. Hell nah.

You pull out your lower body that's been marinating in the pond for who knows how long. Fingers are doing the raisin thing. Mud's clingy, dragging down your clothes to weigh pounds heavier. Your sockssss.

Your heartbeat pulses in your ears as your eyes dart around.

Well, there isn't much to look around. It's dark. Underground-looking. Wait — those are bricks. A well? A very large well?

If you were going to be kidnapped, you'd have hoped for less moist conditions. Or maybe more, depending on who kidnapped you.

There's a one-way tunnel of stone in front of you. Looking up the well's walls, a sort of vine or branch spirals upwards towards a transparent green glow on the ceiling.

Which is also the only thing between you and a whole load of water that sits above it.

That's reassuring…

not.

Oh…

Oh wait.

That's a Dendro Seal, isn't it.

Your heart, that was just starting to calm at the empty structure and hope you might not be tortured by a kidnapper, races again — this time you feel the heartbeat in your throat.

A shaky breath leaves your lungs. No crying— Don’t cry- don’t cry—don't cry —

Breathe.

Giving yourself another second, the coolness of the rocky floor is grounding but damn you might actually get sick and that is not what you need right now. Hopefully you didn't unconsciously swallow any of that swamp water.

You pull yourself onto your legs — ughhh sockss; that squelch — standing and gathering the will to actually move.

You glance again at the tunnel, then the seal, then the tunnel again.

Making up your mind at the obvious course of action to get out you look down to watch your step. But pause.

Your hand grazes a texture that isn't our half-soaked, half-damp clothes. You glance down and notice a new addition — a belt; it blended with the mud and with your brain being mush at the moment, you aren't surprised you didn't notice it prior.

A utility belt that strapped over your shoulder like a body bag, supporting belts that wrapped around your waist and thigh. Holding a satchel pocket that laid on your upper thigh. You dig your hand into it; empty.

No other changes, as you look over yourself once more.

Same autumn outfit you went out with earlier that day.

Boots, pants, longs-sleeve and overlayer.

Brushing your dark curls out of your face, cringing at the dirt that's slathered on it until your finger grazes a cold.. A cold something.

You flinch — almost tripping backwards — as a something flashes into view.  

A screen.

You squint.

Floating. Transparent. Familiar.

A map.

Genshin's map.

nonoonnoonononononononoo—

Breathe.

You are in the Ruins of Dahri. In Sumeru. Genshin.

Yes. In Genshin.

Just accept it already brain,

please.

It's time to adapt.

What if you see a hilichurl — you've never seriously fought something- or someone —

The map is plain; time of day at the top right (1:07) — replacing where once would have read your resin and spiral abyss floor.

Top left reads:

[♪Now Playing♪: Hymns of Eventide]

Thanks newly discovered game mechanism. So useful. Exactly what you needed. So, it can tell you the soundtrack haunting your eardrums — to the point you almost questioned if you snapped and were auditorily hallucinating — but can't give you a knife. Great.

With the screen providing no other information, you touch the cold thing again—about the size of two coins, flat with some sort of groove detailing, ah, and its metallic; a soft cling resonates from how your nail taps on it — and the screen closes.

It's kind of creeping you. You wish you could at least see your reflection in the puddle-swamp water, but it's too dark.

With at least an idea of where you are in this — still doesn't make sense — world, and with the growing desperation to get out and that you're wasting time. So off you go. Taking your first steps into the stone and foliage-filled tunnel.

You don't know how you got here, or how you got down the well-thing, but you're not fucking willing to find out right now.

Waiting means either waiting for your supposed kidnapper or waiting for nothing while sitting in the bog.

You barely have time to dread walking through shin-deep water before a hip-tall mushroom decides to spit its spores at you.

If you manage to not get any diseases from this shit you'd be impressed.

Sprinting down the tunnel a bit and hiding behind a wall does the trick to evade it.

Man, if this place doesn't throw you into cardiac arrest-

Following the short path and some descending stairs, you enter a large cavern.

You barely will yourself to look down at the resting mechanisms at the floor.

Quickly freaking yourself out at the thought of accidently waking one, you walk the upward path.

Having a stare-down with the suspicious fallen-tree-bridge you cautiously cross — hauling ass past not one, but two ruin guards.

Just don't think about it — just get out-out-out. Gaslighting yourself that no, you in fact didn't see the signs of them sensing you as the mechanical parts on their shoulders adjusted.

Scaling some debris and hiding some more, you make it to your exit.

The exit that's closed with another Dendro Seal.

Fuck your life.

You contemplate going back into the hell-cavern and throwing yourself to the Ruin Guards instead. Maybe they’d be merciful. Maybe they'd stomp you out quickly.

Then something thumps against your leg.

Rude.

You look down and flinch—a fungus. A round little Dendro Fungus—green slimeball, bobbing on squat legs—looking too pleased with itself for something that just tried to shoulder-check you.

Instinctively, you stumble back and bring your arms up in a sad mockery of a defensive stance.

It stares at you. You stare at it.

It twitches—then launches straight at your knees.

And bounces off. Like a squeaky dodgeball.

“… Huh.”

It lands on its side, stunned, spores creating a dust cloud by its cap.

You blink down at it, fear dissipating. Then your eyes drift upward.

That inactive totem on the ceiling. An upside-down Dendro totem.

You squint.

“…Wait.”

You look at the dendro fungus.

Then the totem.

Fungus.

A slow, unstable idea forms.

“No way that’d actually—”

But you’re already doing it.

You scoop the little bastard up— vegetable-rodent-like, mushroomy, distressingly warm—

YUUH YEEEEEEET—

THWACK.

It hits dead center. The totem pulses to life, glowing green as vines retract from the exit door with a loud rustle and a hiss.

You stand there, stunned. Still in your throwing stance.

Then whisper,

“…Holy shit.”

--☆--

Finally, you get out of the damp undergrounds.

Emerging into Apam Woods.

Did this world give their trees steroids or somethin'?

Some Hashirama bullshit—

You find yourself staring at some vegetation.

Not for long; picking the… you don't remember the name, Harra Fruit? But it's like a spice, right?

It smells like a spice when you sniff it.

You'll probably be hungry soon. Not having any idea of how long it's been since your last meal, but at least you can gather something to eat.

Unhooking the leather pocket on your leg, you put the fruit inside.

Only for your hand to go deeper than you expected it to — trippy as shit — and a new screen appears.

Oh, so it's like an inventory.

[Harra Fruit: 1]

(:

:D

Bro you aren't built for these revelations—

You pick the rest of the fruit on the vine and continue to forge a patch of mint, yellow berries and a Sumeru Rose further ahead.

With the springy forest floor, the scent of crushed mint and the lingering humidity that feels like a very weak man trying to waterboard you,

so begins your hoarding.

--☆--

This is not fun.

You didn't sign up for this — somehow dodging a Rishboland Tiger’s claw by sheer accident.

This bitch is as tall as your shoulder. Who the fuck said this was okay?

Scary how close it had to come for you to know its height relative to yours.

With a terrified sprint, you duck under its swipe intended to snatch your head —

and now it’s standing in front of you.

Oh. Cool. Great. This is how you die.

Are you supposed to run? Let it chase you until your demise, letting your flesh becomes forest garnish?

Some part of your idiot brain crouches into a stance.

Not one you ever learned — not anything real — just low enough to maybe throw yourself sideways fast enough to save a limb, or two, or your life.

It leaps.

You duck.

You throw a fist upward.

— congratulations, you're a dead bitch, you absolute dumbass.

Sure, you took care of your health. Walked sometimes. Ate your vegetables.

But your only gym experience was that one class in high school.

You're not a gym bro.

You're not even gym-adjacent.

So now you die. Not by claws — but by not being a Chad.

Your fist connects —

right into its throat.

A yelp.

The tiger flies across the path.

Rolls.

Crashes.

You're still crouched, hand raised, brain buffering. Holy shit.

It lets out a pained, deflating growl, and lurches to its feet, tail curled tight.

You — the dumbass you are — growl back.

What are you doing. Why did you do that.

And somehow… it backs off.

Turns.

Runs.

Leaves you standing there, trembling from the flight-and-fight, very confused, but very much alive.

…What the hell just happened?

Did this world give you steroids?

You almost died. You know that, right?...

Built like a tree, bro. The Lorax wishes he got a piece of this ass.

Maybe it was one of those moments where the body surpasses its limit in a crisis. You’ve heard of that — the adrenaline, the emergency strength.

But that usually ends in torn muscles, broken bones, dislocated joints.

You feel… fine.

You stare at your fist like it betrayed you by simply not falling off.

--☆--

Walking in a dazed contemplation, still shaken and still somehow alive, you stumble forward through the underbrush.

That's when you spot it.

The most eye-catching structure in Apam Woods — a pulsing, glowing dome of blue and green light, humming like an alien heart — the Cherenkov Radiation Onion.

You stare.

You forget to blink.

It's like an eldritch salad.

Fantastic.

Then movement catches your eye.

You duck behind a thick tree trunk just in time to avoid being spotted by a small patrol of Hilichurls and... fungi.

Yep. They teamed-up now. Apparently, they're friends.

And they are huge.

Again, you can't stress this enough, everything is so weirdly tall.

Hilichurls are supposed to be, what, kinda scrunkly?

These guys are tall. Probably around half to a foot taller than you.

Each one moves with a purpose, each with their distinct fur (hair?), patterned masks, and patchwork armor that looks way too customized for what used to be low-poly enemy mobs.

They're just so detailed.

They are living.

And they are looking around.

Your hand grips bark like a lifeline. You try to breathe slow.

Calm. Cool. Collected.

Keep calm and pony on, what ever happened to those shitty top text bottom text memes? My little ponyyy, slice of bologna—

Nope. Not helping.

You begin to inch away, trying to not think too hard and freak yourself out even more, and deciding to take your time finding a long, out-of-sight path.

You vaguely remember a voice-line about fungi behavior — some are chill, some are not. Although you don't remember the circumstances of the behaviours apart from the classic, “just don’t hit them,” reasoning.

Still, after your tiger debacle, you don’t exactly want to field test which category of 'nice or not' this group fits into.

If even people can attack other people; their own species; you don't feel confident in assuming the opposite for these… creatures.

--☆--

You duck under a massive, moss-draped root to get clear view—

and your heart lurches into your throat.

There’s something staring back.

Green eyes. Leafy hat. Beady smile. Short, but not small.

An Aranara.

You both freeze.

Panic.

It panics too.

You make a noise. A high-pitched strangled sound that might've been “hieee" or “hngggk.”

It makes a noise. Something like a squeaky breath.

And then… silence.

Neither of you moves.

You want to run, but you can’t take your eyes off it.

They were cute in the game. They looked cute. Adorable forest guardians. Just some little guys.

But here? In person?

You get the weirdest, primal feeling that if provoked, this thing would absolutely go for your tendons and weave them into a friendship bracelet or a garland if it felt fancy.

Your eyes burn.

You blink.

It blinks.

Mutual confusion and unease.

You don't know where you find the mobility, but you finally move — slowly backing off and ducking behind a nearby boulder. Not too far, just… enough to shield your ankles.

From your hiding spot, you peek back around. Your eyes water; a bodily reaction from the "too much today" emotions.

It’s still there.

You watch it watching you, its 'hat' drooping slightly over its round face. Thin leaflike 'propellers' spin lazily from its head. Right. Propellers. That's a thing they do. Do they really fly? Do you believe in physics here? Should you?

You blink again.

It blinks back.

Your inner monologue spirals:

“According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly—”

It takes a cautious step back.

Then another.

Then disappears behind the tree line.

"Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground—"

You’re left in silence.

…

Ehehee. Heheh heh.

A small laugh escapes you.

High-pitched. Relieved. Maybe a little deranged.

It left.

The way it left was terrifying. But still — it left.

You kind of wish it hadn’t.

They’re bigger than you thought — like one to two feet tall. Mini child-size. That's probably where you got the ankle-biter impression.

You’d expected Tinkerbell. You got wild forest Baby Yoda.

Still. You feel kind of bad for scaring it. And even worse for being the one to hide away.

You exhale slowly.

Such an emotional high from such a brief encounter.

You don't know how that situation would've played out, and you don't think you'd want to know—

Then you feel it.

"The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible."

A presence. Next to you.

Your soul detaches from your body.

You glance down—

The green Aranara.

Standing next to you.

Is this karma for throwing the fungus? It's really going to bite your calves—

It holds out… a flower?

A soft yellow-and-blue blossom —

Sumeru's Lunar Lotus.

You were at a loss. Eyes flick between its unchanging smile and the flower.

It tilts the flower toward you, swaying it back and forth like a tantalizing desire, nonetheless, urging you to take it.

You blink rapidly, finally taking your brain by the reins.

You (mentally) said it yourself — you were sad it left, and guilty you scared it off (which apparently you didn't as it's right here).

Can't lose the chance now.

It hasn't attacked you yet anyway, oh god is this a bad decision—

You dig into your thigh pouch and pull out your singular Sumeru Rose.

You crouch slowly, mirroring it.

Tentatively, you hold the rose out.

An offering.

To it —

To them?

The Aranara’s expression doesn’t change — that wide, unreadable smile still fixed on its face, but you feel like they're pleased.

You bring your other hand up.

Without losing a beat, the Aranara trades you.

Placing their flora in your empty palm and pivoting to take yours.

A lotus for a rose.

No words. No noise.

Then it nods.

Turns.

And walks away.

You stay frozen in place.

…

…honestly?

For your first proper, non-violent interaction in this world, it could’ve gone way worse.

You look down at the Lunar Lotus, holding it closer, admiring the unfamiliar but beautiful blossom.

You're not sure what that interaction meant — a welcome? A warning? Still… it somehow made you feel a little less alone.

You're already thinking of how to preserve it. Press it into a book, maybe. Something to prove this moment actually happened.

You don’t know if the Aranara knew you weren’t from this world.

Maybe it didn’t care.

Either way, a small piece of confidence takes root in your chest.

Yeah.

You can deal with this.

You can deal with this world.

The scent of the Lunar Lotus lingers faintly on your fingers as you carefully tuck it away.

Hi reader! Welcome to a new fic, homecooked just for you.

Sorry for the slow-paced chapter; I'm still trying to figure out pacing and a lot had to be established or hinted early on, since it wouldn't really make sense to introduce those things later. You/OC does have a name, it just hasn't had a chance to be used yet. The POV will shift to third person (chap 6, unless something changes), once the focus can turn more toward character dynamics.

Reminder, LONG FORM FIC, it'll be a while until main sumeru characters become friends an' all BUT IM SO LOOKING FORWARD WHEN WE HIT THAT PART.

Might make a faster paced version of this fic focusing less on world-building and lore, but I'm currently enjoying focusing on this right now and am challenging myself to work chronologically. I'm also hoping this style will be more immersive.

Sorry not sorry for the bad jokes lol. Brace yourself, they don't stop.

I've been planning and compiling things for this fic for about a year now. This chapter has been written, rewritten, and edited so many times that I just have to bite the bullet and post it — otherwise it'd never see the light of day, because I'll never be fully happy with it lol. Gotta placate myself with the fact that I can always go back and edit it if needed.

Planning to cross-post on other sites, but haven't gotten to that yet. I'm not really familiar with Tumblr's layout, so I'm doing my best to figure everything out. For digital art or tech folks, what are the settings to not make my sketches look so blurry? i confuse.

Anyway, sending you off cause at this rate I won't ever hit post.