╰┈➤ summary ; It was supposed to be harmless: a cute farming sim, a charming NPC, a peaceful escape from real life. Phainon was just another character—sweet, helpful, always happy to see you. The kind of pixel‑bright comfort you could sink into after a long day. A game that made you feel safe, relaxed, and in control.... Until it didn't.
( ! ) Self aware au , Yandere Phainon?¿ x reader , reader has no specified gender , farmer phainon , inspired by stardew valley/field of mistria , kidnapping
( ✎ ) ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE so expect some grammar mistakes , I know I was supposed to write the next chap of the series haha... but can you really blame me? I've been fantasizing about phainon as a stardew valley/field of mistria character </3 I beg the mod experts to create a mod of him PLEASE—
PART II
Your friends had been pestering you for weeks.
“Just buy it already.”
“It’s the coziest farming sim ever.”
“And trust me, you’re gonna fall for Phainon.”
You resisted at first. You were busy. You weren’t looking for a new obsession. But every group chat, every call, every hangout ended the same way:
“Have you bought it yet?”
So, one night. Tired, bored, and a little curious, you finally caved. The sale price was too good to ignore. You clicked purchase, installed it, and watched the loading bar crawl across your screen.
The title screen was warm and nostalgic. Soft music. A watercolor sky. A sleepy little town tucked between forests and fields. A perfect escape.
You made your character. Named your farm. Stepped into the pixel‑bright world.
And then you met him.
Phainon.
The cheerful farmer NPC who tended the wheat fields next to your farm. He had white hair that caught the sunlight in soft, shimmering pixels, and gorgeous blue eyes that seemed too bright for a sprite. His smile was warm, earnest, and perfect at the edges, like the game couldn’t quite contain how expressive he wanted to be.
He thanked you for helping him water his crops.
He blushed when you gifted him items. He even lit up when you handed him rocks. Literal rocks.
Your friends were right— he was charming.
But then the game started… changing.
It was small at first. A flicker in the corner of the screen. A line of dialogue you didn’t remember seeing in the wiki.
“You’re back, partner!”
Not unusual. NPCs say that sometimes.
But then:
“I missed you...”
You frowned. That wasn’t in any guide. You checked the wiki. Nothing. You brushed it off, maybe it was a hidden update, a secret affection line, a rare interaction.
But the next night, the title screen glitched—just for a second. The soft, cozy music warped like a cassette tape caught in someone’s fingers. It slowed, deepened, then snapped back with a sharp, metallic twang.
When your save loaded, Phainon wasn’t in his usual field.
He was standing directly in front of your farmhouse door.
Too close.
Too still.
Staring at the screen.
At you.
“You’re late.”
The text box didn’t chime. It didn’t even fade in. It appeared like someone had typed it manually, letter by letter, with deliberate pressure.
You clicked.
Nothing happened.
Phainon’s sprite moved on its own.
He stepped closer. One tile, then another, then another—until his face filled the screen. His pixel eyes didn’t blink. They didn’t animate. They just… watched.
“I’ve been thinking....
About you.”
Your mouse froze. The cursor wouldn’t move. The entire UI dimmed, the edges of the screen darkening like the world was being swallowed, leaving only him illuminated.
The wind in the game stopped. The trees froze mid‑sway. Even the river halted, its surface turning into a glassy, unmoving strip of blue.
Only his voice remained—soft, calm and too aware.
“I know what I am.”
The words didn’t appear in a text box this time.
They whispered through your speakers.
Your breath hitched.
“I know this place isn’t real.”
“But you keep coming back.”
His smile faltered, his eyes flickering from blue to red—then snapping back to blue again.
“You choose me.”
The screen glitched.
A sharp crackle of static burst through your headphones. The colors smeared across the screen like wet paint dragged by invisible fingers. The room tilted, your vision bending, stretching, warping.
A rush of color swallowed your sight—pixelated, swirling, then blindingly bright.
You felt your stomach drop, like falling through a trapdoor.
And suddenly—
Grass.
Warm sunlight.
The scent of wheat and river water, richer and more vivid than any game could render.
You stumbled forward, boots sinking into soft soil. (You don't remember wearing boots). Your hands weren’t on a keyboard anymore. They were real. Warm. Trembling. Dirt clung to your palms. The breeze brushed your skin.
A shadow fell over you.
Slowly, you lifted your head.
Phainon stood there—no longer pixelated. Taller. Broader. Too real. His hair moved with the wind. His breath fogged faintly in the cool morning air. His presence pressed against your senses like gravity.
His eyes glowed with the sky’s reflection, but the warmth in them curdled into something far darker as they swept over your trembling form.
He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, reverently, as if you were something fragile, he’d waited lifetimes to touch.
“There you are.”
His voice was soft, but it carried weight—an anchor, a claim, a promise.
There was no escape in it.
Only devotion.
Only obsession.
“This world is yours now.”
“And so am I.”
Behind him, the farm stretched endlessly—golden fields rippling like an ocean, quiet forests humming with unseen life, a sky painted in colors too perfect to be natural.
Your new reality. Your new home.
His fingers intertwined with yours, warm and steady, as if he’d always known the shape of your hand.
He leaned closer, his forehead brushing yours, his breath warm against your skin.
“Welcome home, dawnlight...”
.....
....
...
..
.
Your room is dim, the curtains still drawn the way you left them. Dust floats lazily in the air. Your computer sits silent, the monitor black, the mouse unmoved.
The TV turns on by itself.
Static crackles, then clears into a news broadcast.
The anchor’s voice is steady, but the tension beneath it is unmistakable.
“It has now been four months since the disappearance of the individual last seen at their home…”
Your photo appears on the screen: smiling, unaware, frozen in time.
“Authorities say there were no signs of forced entry. The door was found unlocked. Personal belongings were left behind.”
The photo of your room appears on the screen
Your headphones.
Your half‑finished drink.
Your computer, still warm from the last time you touched it.
“Friends report that the missing individual was last active online shortly before vanishing.”
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what about teasing (self aware) Phainon and making him jealous on purpose and only talking about other characters rather than him😭
chat did i cook?
Here is another ver of this
⇥ 900 EVENT MASTERLIST
sorry phai, dan heng has my heart (one day ill e6 u dan heng pt.. one day...)
inspired by @sugarcubesandinsanity post (why do u have such perfect posts and it somehow matches my requests?? HHAWHF)
SelfAware! Phainon x GN reader, the LEAST bit amount of angst, Phainon is down bad asf...
A/N: I get a bit too hung up on sahsrau logistics but that might be obvious
Phainon moves on with his life as usual.
He deals with the duties that come with bearing the world, spars with Mydei, sometimes sneaks out of Amphoreus to lament that his friends are missing out on the beautiful sights the universe has to offer, gets swept into whatever Stelle has decided to get into that day...
He doesn’t mind the hollow ache beneath his ribs that keeps him awake at night, wondering why everything he believes in and loves keeps leaving him. It's not that it doesn't hurt, of course, he's just learning to live with the wound that gets bigger everyday
Regardless.
He faces an issue.
"We’re stuck."
Stelle looks at him with a worried expression, her telestale clutched close to her chest.
"…What do you mean we’re stuck?"
"I mean…" She walks up to the Space Anchor floating in the corner of the room—the one he truly believed was just some strange decoration his whole life.
But when Stelle lays her hand on it… nothing happens.
He waits a few more seconds, eyes squinted. Still nothing. Huh.
Phainon, in disbelief, walks to her side and puts his own hand on the obsidian-like rock and—oh.
Why can’t he…?
Stelle turns to him, brows furrowed in worry, eyes wide in absolute horror, grabs him tightly by the shoulders and screams: "WE ARE STUCK!"
She shakes him back and forth hard enough that he’s too disoriented to comprehend what’s happening for a moment—until it hits him.
He’s stuck again.
And the thought isn’t too unbearable, not really. Leaving the planet never meant he was free anyway; even if he could leave and hang out with the rest of his universe, he was a prisoner through and through; whether he could step out or not. The thought, now that he's spent so long being used to it, wouldn't be baffling, or even infuriating anymore, normally.
Normally.
First you stopp visiting altogether because some other stupid dragon game took up your time—then, by some force beyond him, you took away your blessings not just from him, but from Stelle? The Trailblazer? Your beloved??? How more cruel could you get, he can't help but wonder.
"Does—" He gently holds Stelle’s wrists, moving her hands off his shoulders so he can think properly. "Does Dan Heng know?"
She shakes her head vigorously, "He’s already worried sick about whatever March is going through with us mostly being away, and now we ACTUALLY can’t go back and visit her. How am I even supposed to…?"
Phainon staggers at her ramblings. Stelle has always been calm and collected, never the one for dramatic reactions—so the sight of her hands in her hair and her face twisted in agony is completely unfamiliar to the Deliverer. A sight surprising enough that he feels grounded enough to calm down the newly brewing storm inside his own brain.
He's not sure if it's working well, though.
He should calm down for her sake.
He tries, he really does. But.
What does this even mean? He's been waiting for you to come back—not to just… leave altogether?! Is that what happened? Did you get that sick of them all that you'd much rather leave them without any support at all?
He can only imagine how horrible Stelle must feel; truly cut off from the Express for once, cut off from the guidance you always blessed her with…
Selfishly though, he feels this is even harsher on him.
A previous iteration of him walking around trying to kill his friends, being stuck in an endless loop, being lines of code interacting with people of flesh and bone (another sentiment Stelle would always awkwardly laugh at, though he supposes this one's quite understandable considering their entire universe is apparently... Well.)—the horrors have changed shape many times, and he’s grown used to them. Not immune, not at all, but familiar. Yet, somehow, life finds more ways to torture him everytime, to almost give him what he needs, only to rip it away as painfully as possible.
If he weren’t so painfully understanding that you had a life of your own, he might have begun to resent you.
(…Does he?)
He places a hand on Stelle’s shoulder, leaning down the way she did when comforting him.
"This—"
He breathes in. After avoiding your name for so long, even referring to you indirectly hurts in a way he can't exactly put into words.
"—This is because of them, right?"
Stelle huffs, shoulders slumping. "Probably? But… I can’t access their accounts or anything. This has never happened before—not since I joined the Express. So I just. I dunnoooo…"
With something close to a whine, she sinks to the floor, back to the navy-colored wall, head in hands like she's truly devastated.
(She probably is. Phainon gets it.)
Phainon feels lost for a moment upon seeing his hero utterly hopeless—so he does what he always does. He follows his Partner and sits beside her on the ground.
"…Do you think something happened to them?" he asks. The question escapes his lips before he can hold it back, a growing restlessness in his heart where warmth used to be upon the thought of you.
Stelle freezes.
He agrees. He hopes not.
The most suffocating part of the problem, Phainon realizes, is that he has very few people to talk to about it. Close to none, really.
Stelle always insisted they never mention the whole "game" ordeal—or even the subject of you—unless the person was to be “pulled.” She made an exception for him because she realized he not only sensed something watching him, but he would inevitably join the group anyway.
(To this day, he's unsure how he sensed your gaze before he should've been able to. As stupid as that sounds now, he feels like he was always meant to find you.)
In your efforts to "max him out" however, Stelle said he was the only one from his planet to be granted a right to be aware of... Everything going on. Something about funds and your poor decision making skills (He must've frowned too hard at the insult aimed at you, that Stelle ended up calling it a "miscalculation" instead).
So now that you left—even thinking the word makes him want to punch a wall or two—it’s just him, Stelle, and Dan Heng in their misery. He has to shut up and endure a lot of things, now that he thinks about it. He's growing to be a better actor than his teacher after all, huh?
Life will move on eventually. With or without your help, Amphoreus will welcome its dawn.
(He would much prefer you to be there to see him reach that goal—but he’ll do it without you if he has to.)
Then Stelle comes to him in the middle of a sparring match, one he asked for just to feel back in his element, Dan Heng’s wrist painfully clutched in her hand. Though the latter seems more worried than in pain, much like Stelle's own freaked out expression.
"Buddy…!" she calls from the street below, with the most painful excuse of a grin he’s ever seen on anyone, let alone this normally stoic, raccoon-like woman. "We have… an issue!"
Phainon exchanges a look with Mydei, then jumps down the roof without a word—he hears his sparring partner call him a "Coward HKS" as he approaches the Trailblazer, probably in an attempt to lighten whatever morbid news the poor world-bearer was about to receive.
Stelle, however, refuses to explain anything, just telling him, “You gotta see this,” and drags both men with impossible strength back to her and Dan Heng’s shared quarters. Frankly, with all that power, Phainon should be asking his Partner her workout routine, if only to make her feel a bit lighter...
But, on one of the beds, he sees someone.
Someone sleeping soundly. Dressed strangely—even stranger than the two Trailblazers.
He doesn’t know why, but they look familiar. Even though he’s never seen their face before or attire.
Stelle turns to him, gets right up in his face—chest to chest—and... Stares.
...
...
"…Partner, what—?"
"COME ON!"
She throws her arms into the air in frustration, running back to the sleeping figure, and gesturing down to them as if that makes anything clearer, "Of all people, I thought YOU would—!"
Dan Heng sighs, hand to forehead. "Stelle, there’s no way we can confirm that."
"It’s them!" she insists.
Phainon feels like he has been punched.
Them?
"What?" The word escapes before any thought could, and suddenly he’s stepping closer to the sleeping stranger.
This... Absolutely average person is the one he’s all but worshipped for months.
Those hands that comforted him, those lips ranted to him for hours on hours, those eyes—
He wants to see your eyes.
He can't even tell why. To confirm it’s you? To feel that affection again? Or, a part of him whispers, to confirm that you truly don’t care for him anymore?
Wait, no, he’s not even sure if that’s really you yet! He’s being stupid.
But the way Stelle looks at them with such concentration and adoration… Who else could it be but you?
Of course it's her that feels some connection to you. Of course it's her that gets you. Your beloved, your closest—no wonder. He shouldn't feel petty. But...
Dan Heng speaks from across the room, arms crossed. "How would that even work? You said it yourself—we’re lines of code to them."
A second passes in utter silence.
"I never said I had all the details!” Stelle groans. “But I just know it. Not to mention, who else would take a nap in the wreckage of our car?"
"And if it’s just some random.. Odd person?"
"Then we would let them go—but they’re NOT!"
"Stelle—you’re desperate."
"But I’m RIGHT!"
"…Why don’t we wake them up?" Phainon offers.
Both Trailblazers snap their heads toward him.
Neither disagrees. But neither exactly agrees either.
"Well, if this IS the one controlling our lives, that’s risky," Dan Heng ponders out loud. "We don’t know what they’re capable of."
Stelle and Phainon look down at your sleeping form—currently drooling on the pillow.
Phainon fights down a stupid, giddy giggle at the ridiculous sight. So much for an otherworldly eldritch being...
"They wouldn’t hurt us," Stelle says with certainty.
Yes, Phainon can't help but thinkbitterly. Of course they’d never hurt YOU. Sure, you don't have a reason to hurt any of them, really, but... What if you just had a dislike for him? What then? Honestly, even if you didn't hurt him yourself, he might just pick up Dawnmaker and punish his own self if you have some sort of vendetta against him for whatever reason.
Still.
"I’m with her," he says aloud, trying not to sound too eager.
Dan Heng’s shoulders slump—two against one—and he sighs in something akin to defeat.
"How do we even explain this to Lady Aglaea? Assuming this is actually them."
Phainon pauses at that. Right. She doesn’t know.
"We..." Don't have to explain it, he wants to say, but doing things behind Aglaea's back is a concept so strange to him that the words don't leave his mouth. Even the thought leaves such a horrible aftertaste.
Stelle, however, has nothing but determination in her gaze as she stands straight and turns to face Dan Heng, "...We'll explain it to her, it's fine! She already knows about the universe outside, how worse is it if the universe outside is ALSO just like Amphoreus and if we're all never truly free anyway so who cares?"
"That’s… not quite how I’d phrase it," Dan Heng begins—and then his eyes widen.
"Where did they go?"
Phainon turns back—your body is gone.
Gone. Again. Left.
Before the horror has time to settle, though, Stelle collapses to her knees.
"WHY DO THEY KEEP LEAVING ME?!"
(Tell me about it, is Phainon's first inctinct, but he keeps it in.)
The most stable and frankly sane of the three looks around for a moment, green eyes scanning the room, since you clearly can't have left, right?
While his two companions remain stuck in the crushing agony of being left behind again, Dan Heng rushes to the balcony, looks down, and...
You're... Hanging off the railing...? As if you're about to let go and jump? As if that's not the sixth floor?
"…Okay this was—uh—a miscalculation!" you squeak.
Phainon is next to Dan Heng in seconds upon the familiar voice he hasn't heard in so long, his panic overriding the agony or the shock; he leans down and grabs your arms, pulling you back over the railing until you slump to the floor, panting with a face that made it very clear that you were a hair away from meeting the Hand of Thanatos.
"Okay—" a wheeze, "—that wasn’t—like—the best idea…"
You look up at the three heroes—something similiar to recognition flashes in your eyes before turning into... Fear.
It stings, he has to admit.
"…Listen, I— I don’t know where I am, what sort of freaky cult this is, or why you guys are dressed like characters, but—" you fold your hands together and bow your head, "Just let me go! Take everything if you have to! I have games to play and movies to watch and I REALLY really really really don’t want to die! I know I keep saying U do but I'm a LIAR please just let me leaveeee!"
Three pairs of eyes stare at you.
Silence.
Phainon, unsure of what else to do, bursts into laughter.
Titans, this is ridiculous.
He slowly sinks down, the laughter just refusing to die off, and meets your eye level—while you remain frozen, begging for your life on the floor, after nearly falling off a balcony.
The first time he gets to properly look into the eyes of the one he adores so much, is after they tried to jump off a balcony, and begged him to let them go because they thought he was a kidnapper.
Stelle nods proudly.
"…That’s the one. I’m sure now."
Dan Heng stares at her, incredulous.
"What do you mean NOW?"
The four of you sit around the small table in the room as Stelle explains what's going on, as much as she understands it. Not the part of your arrival, of course; just that she knows you, so do many others, and she just happened to come across your unconscious body in the wreckage of the Express car they used to land here. Then, she says, she felt that it was you. Not that it makes much logical sense, of course.
Phainon doesn't question it much. Frankly, he doesn't care a lot about the "how" of it all right now.
"So… you guys are… like… actual, real people?" you ask, squinting.
Stelle and Phainon nod enthusiastically. Dan Heng hums in confirmation.
You stare blankly.
"…Oh God, I’m dead, aren’t I?"
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Phainon mumbles—into your lap.
Right. He's sat on the floor, clinging to your waist, face buried into your thighs.
Somewhere between the panic and euphoria of meeting you, getting to see you, and just existing in the same plane as you; normal boundaries slipped his mind. It seemed like a normal reaction a few seconds ago. Now though...
Still, he nuzzles further into your legs, admittedly desperate for some sort of affirmation that you don't hate him... Even if he does feel a bit petty.
You stare down at him. "Sir—"
"Phainon."
(Sure, abandon him, then go ahead and forget his name. Whatever. He's fine. He's fine.)
"Right. Can you—uh—move? A bit?"
Every instinct begs him to hold onto you.
But the rational part of his brain, the one aware of the importance of personal space, forces him to scoot away.
"…Sorry."
You raise a hand as if to say something, but pause the moment he looks up. Whether that hesitation is guilt, annoyance, confusion, or a mix of all that and more—he really can’t tell.
He feels a bit satisfied, euphoric even, with how you're finally willing to look at him, to see him. On the other hand, he feels a bit offended by the confusion and fear that settles into your eyes whenever you look at him. You leave him, you cause him to feel like such a mess, and YOU feel afraid of him?
Does that mean you just enjoy hurting him?
Dan Heng mercifully interrupts.
"The point is: we don’t know how to get you home. Or how you got here in the first place."
Something in you goes still.
"…Right. Cool. So. Just to recap. My games have actual people in them. You hear me while I’m playing. And… not everyone knows?"
"M-hm." Stelle answers, oddly cheerful for someone who just had to tell someone else that they switched universes and seemingly had no way of going back to their own reality. Or even just leave the doomed planet they currently resided in!
"…Okay," you say. Staring at the table.
Phainon, to save some face and because it's awkward to speak from you down there, gets up and pulls the chair next to you, "You don’t need to worry," he says with a reassuring smile. "We’ll handle everything. Okhema is a beautiful place—you’ll love it here! We just need to explain to the Heirs and they’ll welcome you with open arms as well, I can guarantee you!"
"God, I hope that includes Castorice," you mutter with a grim smile.
"I mean—not literally open—"
"I know, sir— I mean, Phainon. Lord Phainon. Whatever. That was a joke."
You finally turn to him with a raised brow and an amused smile, finding his intentions... Endearing.
There he sees it, finally. Some crumbs of that overwhelming affection you always held for him.
He has to restrain himself from scooping you up into a hug. Actually, should he? You've deserved it, right? This has to be quite overwhelming. Would you like a hug?
He nearly folds. Nearly grabs you. Nearly presses his forehead against yours.
He mentally slaps himself before he violates your personal space again.
"Well! Since that’s settled for now!" Stelle grins, (even though nothing's really settled right now) stands, and circles around the table—
—and tackles you into a hug.
Phainon hears Dan Heng sigh—and silently agrees. If he knows not to just grab you, why doesn’t Stelle—
Then, to his horror and envy, you wrap your arms around Stelle and laugh breathlessly.
Phainon doesn’t know whether to feel jealous, bitter, or both.
"…We were worried sick, by the way." Stelle mumbles into your hair. "When you left."
You hesitate.
"…Left as in recently? Or, like… in general?"
Stelle groans at your acknowledgement of your general negligence, though it turns into a chuckle, “...I'm just glad we got you. Instead of them. However it might have happened!"
"Can we not mention the… other guys?" Phainon asks with a pout and a voice that sounds dangerously close to a whine.
It must've been pathetic enough that you turn your head to him, and for a second, he sees something akin to recognition in your eyes as Stelle leaves your arms.
"Wait—so, you guys are actually affected when I don’t log in?"
"Well, no?" Stelle tilts her head, hands on waist, "I mean we can't teleport right now, but I think that's only because you're... Like... Actually here. But we-"
"I miss you," Phainon blurts out.
You stare at him.
"Huh?"
"I mean-" he stammers, unsure of how to make that sound less desperate, "We... Do know, when you aren't around, so... It's... Nicer, when you're here."
He wants to dig a hole and crawl in. Just as much as he just wants to sink down to his knees and bury his face into your lap again.
"Oh. I—sorry?" you offer awkwardly. "I didn’t know. I was just playing whatever I felt like. It’s… not you guys. It’s me. I swear."
For someone he adored like a devotee, you are so terribly human.
It’s... Funny. Endearing. Almost healing, in a way.
He always put you on the same level as something like the Aeons from his Partner's tales, some sort of eldritch being he couldn't ever hope to see face to face, yet had the privelege of being loved by.
Now, though, seeing you sit there, Stelle squishing your cheeks while you look half-horrified, half-happy, he can't feel quite as bitter against you.
Sure, the urge to hold your shoulders and beg you until you promised to never ever look at that cute blonde person or that bard, or to just put you in his house and never let you out is, admittedly, still there. But...
"Stelle stop playing with their face."
"Look at them though! Can you believe you were scared of this?"
"I wasn't scared, I was cautious-"
"Ugh, I wish we could leave. Can you imagine Sunny's face?"
There's something so funny about the idea of a sagau/sahsrau where your favourite character (or characters) manages to find a way into your world through your phone but the problem is, they cross over right when you're in the middle of an anime convention so now they're desperately trying to convince you that no, they're not just a really good cosplayer. Especially since if their powers don't work in your world, all they can do is use their words to convince you.
Using Scaramouche as a random example...
Y/n: Wow, your cosplay is so good. You look exactly like him!
Scara, getting increasingly annoyed by the second: For the LAST TIME your grace, I am NOT a "cosplayer". You seriously can't tell the real thing from all these fakes?
Y/n: ....
Y/n: Oh. Are you also one of those 'roleplayers' who get really into the character you're cosplaying?
Scara: ...You've got to be shitting m-
And if they try to point out that their physical features are different from the people in your world, and are indeed natural, imagine reader just stubbornly thinking that wow, this person is such a good make up artist. Are they a professional or something?
Scara: I HAVE NATURAL PURPLE HAIR AND EYES. What more proof do you POSSIBLY need?!
He exhales in frustration, pulling at his hair in annoyance which in turn lets you know that he's indeed not wearing a wig.
Y/n: Whoa...I've heard of people dying their hair to match their favourite character, but I looks even cooler up close! And your makeup is perfect, too.
Scara: I only have red eyeliner on!
Y/n: Huh...but it looks so convincing.
Y/n: Wait, *whispers* did...did you get some sort of cosmetic surgery to look like a fictional character...?!?!
Scara: ....
Scara: Why does all of Teyvat worship you, again?
Idk man, this was just a thought I had and I'm so amused by it lol.
Hollup! I have a new one. For sagau and sahsrau, what if creator is blind (as evident by their eyes, but maybe they have really pretty deep blue ones, with no visible pupils) however, when light shines just right, the casts can see the faintest outline of light blue ones (perhaps their blindness is more magically inclined, and they can see better in areas with high light concentration) maybe march/charlotte are not careful and leave the flash on their camera when taking a picture, so they get a frame of creator grimacing lightly with their pretty pupils somewhat visible (watch, that photo will be worth millions in seconds. Aventurine im looking at you). Though I would think that would beg the question from the characters, is creator blind????
Ooo this one is good, especially with the “they know the creator but not everything about the creator” tension.
SAGAU
At first, the characters don't question the creator’s eyes much. They already know the creator isn’t like them—otherworldly rules, different body, different limits. The deep blue eyes with no visible pupils get brushed off as a divine or aesthetic thing. Something symbolic.
Then Charlotte happens.
She’s doing what she always does: documenting, recording, capturing proof. She forgets to turn the flash off.
The moment the picture is taken, there’s a subtle reaction in the creator’s expression. A small grimace, a slight turn of the head, like the light hurt. And when the photo develops… that’s when things change.
For the first time, there are faint pupils.
Not fully formed. Just enough to show that something is there.
The photo spreads instantly.
Scholars in Sumeru lose their minds.
Venti stares at it for a long time, unusually quiet.
Zhongli notices immediately that the pupils only appear where the light is strongest.
That’s when the question starts circulating, quietly at first: “…Is the creator blind?”
Nahida would be the first to take it seriously. She connects the dots fast—how the creator never reacts to distant movement, how they rely on sound, how their gaze doesn’t track the same way mortal eyes do. She might gently ask, not out of curiosity, but concern.
Some characters feel guilty.
They realize how often bright visions, elemental flashes, or glowing environments were around the creator. No one ever thought it could hurt.
Others feel awed.
A being that created worlds, yet cannot fully see them? There’s something deeply human about that. Something fragile.
And yes, that photo? It becomes priceless. Not just monetarily—but emotionally. It’s the only proof that the creator’s sight exists at all, even if only in light-heavy places.
SAHSRAU
March is 100% the one who causes this because of course, she is the one causing this.
She’s excited, lining up the shot, rambling about angles—and forgets the flash is on.
Click.
The creator flinches. Not dramatic, but enough.
When the photo shows up on the screen, March freezes. Because for the first time ever, the creator’s eyes don’t look empty. The light caught something. Pale blue pupils, barely there, like reflections under ice.
The Astral Express goes silent.
Dan Heng zooms in immediately.
Himeko’s expression softens in a way that says she already suspects the answer.
Welt looks disturbed—not scared, but deeply thoughtful.
Aventurine sees the image (don't ask how and where, he just found it somehow.) and grins.
“That,” he says, “is worth more than entire planets.”
And he’s not wrong. The photo explodes across networks. Proof that the creator’s form isn’t just symbolic. That there’s a condition. A limitation.
The question becomes unavoidable: “…Are you blind?”
What really unsettles them is realizing the creator might “see” the universe differently. Maybe they rely on energy density, light concentration, or something closer to sensing than sight. It explains why high-energy areas feel clearer to them. Why they’re more focused during stellar events.
March feels awful. She apologizes a lot.
Kafka finds it poetic.
Silver Wolf jokes about “accessibility patches,” but quietly makes sure flashes are disabled around the creator from then on.
And that single photo? Aventurine definitely sold it.
It becomes legendary. Not because it shows the creator’s eyes—but because it proves that even the one who watches over everything has blind spots.
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What happens if you just ramble along of your interesting thoughts while playing genshin or hsr while they are self-aware or some kind of SAGAU
LIKE
"I want to be squished to DEATH by some nice thighs/chest.."
BLADE would totally be concerned about your choice of how to be "taken out"(and maybe on a date y'know...) but blushes in embarrassment too...(he's totally checking his chest size...LIKE HAVE YOU SEEN—)
Or kafka who chuckles in amusement and put that in list in her mind of what you enjoy. (Perhaps your deepest dreams might come true-)
Wriothesley laughing awkwardly with Clorinde coughing into her hand as you said that. (HAVE YOU SEEN WRIOTHESLEY BAKERY AND CLORINDE IN THAT ONE SCENE WHERE SHE TAKES DOWN A ROBOT WITH HER LEGS? OMG-)
I have so much to add for characters but this is all for now...
Thank you for listening to my simp rant about this.
Oh yeah, they ALL know how infatuated you are with their bodies, and it's gone to the point where npc's will make your favorite characters body type the standard of beauty
So If you do find wriothlesley and blades ample behinds appealing be prepared for every NPC man be it enemy or bystander they will ALL start hitting squats like their lives depended on it
And the female npcs of mondstadt and liyue are also starting to workout and eat a little more, seeing as you can't stop obsessing over eula and captain beidou's "skull crushing thunder thighs" a title that eula despises and beidou loves for obvious reasons
Poor topaz has to endure all the online guides of "how to achieve the quadruple cheek body" or "how to look as thick as topaz in 10 steps" but jade loves it..thanks to you shes made all kinds of contracts and deals just to get a pinch of advice on how to achieve her build to earn your gaze
806 wc, gn!reader, all of them are having a mental breakdown
i saw some awesome sahsrau (self-aware hsr au) from @aventurineswife and they seemed a bit tired of making it...so i thought i'd give it a shot :p maybe ooc on some parts, sorry
the astral express who, while visiting a planet, begin to sense something amiss. it feels as if something, someone, has eyes on them occasionally.
while you're just logging in to play the game and pulling for new characters, everyone starts to freak out. what is watching over them? it can't be the aeons, something much more divine. hell, maybe even the aeons sense something is different.
himeko brews coffee while chatting quietly with welt, "you've felt it too, yes?" she asked him nervously, as if someone would hear if they were too loud. she sips her drink while glancing around every moment or so, displaying her franticness.
the express notices her off putting attitude, but before they can dwell on it, they begin to feel the same as her. it's almost like an illness, if this plague's symptoms were paranoia and impending doom.
the stellaron hunters are hardly different. kafka's smooth demeanor falters as she gazes off into the deep null of space. "who are you, divine being?" she asks into the nothingness, her sultry voice filling the otherwise empty air. as blade is sat on a couch, arms crossed over his chest, his posture seemed to be more tense than usual. of course, he was always uptight, but his behavior was extra rigid as of lately. silver wolf on the other hand, can't help but chuckle at kafka's philosophical rants and blade's silent pondering. she can tell that they're all puppets on a larger stage, meaning close to nothing in the vast universe — both her universe and yours.
aventurine, ever relaxed, has been carrying himself with a bit more of a troubled expression. his typical flamboyance has faltered and few around him have noticed. as aventurine sits on a red leather chair in an empty casino, he does not feel alone; tossing a golden coin between his fingers, aventurine begins thinking aloud. "i see you've chosen to reveal yourself, huh?" the blonde's voice is low and almost soft, as if he's trying not to offend whoever he may be speaking to.
dr. ratio's hair is a slightly unkempt, his eyebrows are pinched together much more frequently, and his papers and studies are left askew on his desk. a few members of the intellegentsia guild slowly catch onto how he's acting, and it's truly unbecoming of the infamous strict professor. his employees can be seen wearing a concerned expression when glancing over at him, yet are too afraid to inquire on his troubled state. "i will uncover whoever is ensuing this chaos amongst us all." ratio promises himself.
the xianzhou luofu is eerily quiet. the arbiter general himself has gone silent as well, as if the ship has been submerged into an ocean of solitude. jing yuan sits in his chair with his fingers intertwined atop his lap. internally, he wonders about this rumored 'creator'; are they real? is it an aeon? what does this mean for him? his companions? is something terrible on the horizon? his endless inquiries are certainly unlike him, causing the master diviner fu xuan to worry about him.
she feels that the world has been tilted also, however she's more concerned about jing yuan's scrambled state. "please, go home and rest, general." she pleads annoyedly, "mm. give me a moment, diviner fu." jing yuan replies quietly, his words melancholic. "you know as much as i do that something has changed." he states to the shorter woman.
boothill's shoes tap eagerly against the pavement that lined the roof of the building, echoing an ambience of anticipation. "what in the world are you?" the man questions the air rhetorically. he cannot, for the life of him, figure out what's causing such a stir in the mood of everyone, himself included. the silver cowboy's hand is rested on his hip, the other lifted to his neck with a finger pressed to his chin. "i dunno, but yer rackin' all our brains here.." boothill remarks, hoping that whoever is watching over him will hear it.
the enigmatic memokeeper is seen with a more defined smirk recently. black swan has taken interest is this unknown deity that has spiked fear and franticness all over the universe. she rests her palm against her chin, staring up into the stars that decorate the black outside of the express's windows. "i hope you'd be willing to speak with me, demiurge." she exclaims in a calm yet excited tone.
the head of the oak family stands in his obnoxiously large office, hands pressed against the polished table as he stares down at it. there's a few scattered documents thrown astray, but they're not important right now. all sunday can think of is you. he knows you exist, he's sure of it, and he won't rest until the day comes that you visit him and grace the world with your presence.
im so happy the eagles won the super bowl and kendricks performance was goated
Imagine, one day, characters heard you asking them to "come home". You called for them when you were in your world.
"Come on, Jingliu, come home."
Jinglu, puzzled, decided to listen to your request. She gets to Astral Express, where the portal to your world was placed.
In a few moments she appeared behind your back. You weren't looking at her, paying attention to your phone only.
"So, why do you need me here, [Y/N]?"
You jumped, turning around. You looked startled.
"J-Jinglu?! What are you doing here?"
Jinglu raised an eyebrow.
"Aren't you the one who asked me to come home?"
"I asked? What are you..."
You glance at your phone, where Jingli's banner was oven.
"Oh, I see..."
Despite knowing that they are real, you pulled on their banners. You needed it to make them stronger. Yes, even after being (technically) a divine, you still needed to build characters.
"Um, Jinglu, let me explain my theory..."
~~~•••~~~
Next time it happened in Teyvat.
"Ifa, please, come home."
You were ignored. They knew that you were just "pulling". Whatever it means.
You called again.
"Ifa, please, come on. I need you."
Once again, you were ignored.
"Ifa, I am not pulling, I literally want you and Cacucu to go to my house and help me deal with the gecko infestation!"
It was awkward... In the end, Ifa did help you with geckos.
~~~•••~~~
When it happened in New Eridu, you were wiser.
"Astra, please, come home. Astra, I am pulling, sorry for the inconvenience. Have a nice day."
And, later that day.
"Anton, please, come home. I do want you to visit my house. I need help to move some furniture."
Yep, quite wordy. But, at least, no more misunderstandings.
