Pathetic Little Thing

The Balladeer strives to uphold the illusion of a consensual and healthy relationship at any cost: no traces of toxicity and abuse shall be left out in the open for everyone to see. It is not that the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers himself cares about the opinions of his most untrustworthy colleagues or lowlifes under his command – you will be branded a fool for assuming that he is bothered by what others think. He just doesn’t want you to expect a knight in shining armor to come to the rescue once they see how badly he treats you; any hope to leave him by using the conveniently helping hand shall be extinguished akin to a firefly’s light. 

Scaramouche is not against the idea of spilling the impudent insect’s blood (he is more than willing to slay thousands and thousands of them if he feels like it) – he is against the idea of you seriously contemplating someone would gift you a ticket out of this relationship. The risk is minimal, he knows it: among the ranks of Fatui, it’s very unlikely for an ordinary piece of meat such as yourself to catch the attention of both high-ranking members and their subordinates of humble might – yet he will still prefer to terminate any chance of luring in any noble intentions.

He is not afraid of confronting that rare and exceptional idiot who would be brave enough to try to snatch the “maiden” out of the “dragon”’s grasp, oh no – he is afraid of losing his control over you. He must remain the sole pillar of the crumbling temple that is your life; you must rely only on him because who else in this rotten world will waste their time on you? You must realize that while he is an utterly deplorable being, he is your one and only “safe option”; more so than the potential “nice guy” scumbag who will keep up appearances as long as there is a benefit in doing so until the need to stab you in the back arises. With Scaramouche, you will never taste deception and betrayal – he may slap your face hard enough to split your lower lip, but he is at least honest about his methods of silencing your lousy mouth… And he will comfort your injury right away, with just the right amount of tenderness so as to not pollute his “villain” status, and you will be – in a rather paradoxical way – deemed insane for declaring he is handling you roughly because there will be nothing to your skin to indicate there was a laceration in the first place. 

You are not mistaken for presuming that he is no better than those he often accuses of hypocrisy. The Balladeer is just as obsessed with wiping out any evidence of what he is doing to you in private as his brainwashed agents are with covering up their clandestine activities in peaceful lands; he claims he is doing it to avoid unnecessary attention and insists that you will suffer much worse if others develop the idea that beating you is a fun and totally unpunishable thing to do – really, what else will those imbeciles get into their heads if they see their boss making a punching bag out of some peasant-looking woman? They will take the scene as an invitation to the banquet, of course!

By Scaramouche’s decree, therefore, everything about the twisted bond between the two of you must tell of the happiness of a dog kept on a leash by her master and demonstrate the elation of a toy that willingly sold itself to a puppet master. You must always smile and nod at his every statement; must always mind your manners and show no sign of artificiality – in other words, you must behave akin to a wind-up doll, additionally adopting a composure and obedience befitting a seasoned soldier (and definitely not a village wench). In this counterfeit theatre of his, there is no room for sabotage. You must be as perfect as the lead actor of the play and act accordingly, for should you try to dispose of the mask… Well, let’s just say that your extremely modest clothes were not chosen with the purpose of hiding your virtues.

Deliberately or not, though, The Balladeer misses the entire point. Given his cynicism, it’s probably the latter – he is not delusional, he is simply incapable of believing in the goodness and benevolence of people’s hearts. Be they Fatui or of as plain origins as you, his unpleasant experiences persuaded him of the ignorance and selfishness of humankind; in his flawed worldview, no one is going to steal you away from him because you have nothing valuable to give to them (even your body, irreparably scarred and marked by him, has long since lost its initial price). He refuses to acknowledge the presence of chivalry in certain individuals’ souls, for every single two-legged abomination populating this realm is here after the gain, after the thrill of seizing a treasure worthy of their ambitions, and that’s precisely why the “risk is minimal” and not nonexistent; that’s why the performance must go on and only end when you enter his chambers at night. 

Because someone might want to obtain you under the pretense of saving you. Because someone might gift you false wings and then tear them off for shits and giggles. Because someone might ache for the opportunity to spite him, and you would be naïve enough to fall for any trick. 

Suspicions will still be raised and doubts will still emerge, sure. There will be smart ones who shall silently question the masquerade and scrutinize your every move; there will be nosy ones who shall notice the stiffness of the rehearsed lines and catch the glimpse of uneasiness in your eyes, and there will be brazen ones who shall openly interfere with your relationship and pay with their life. Scaramouche doesn’t deny the possibility of this happening – he is too paranoid to be that offensively oblivious. What he does deny, however, is the existence of selfless motive because rectitude is not inherent to any living being.

It is the quality of the dead, after all. It would be in your best interest to trust Scaramouche and embrace his truth… The truth that no such color as “white” is present in Teyvat: it’s all black powder that poorly imitates the crystals of sugar, a chocolate house made of bitter bars. You must understand that if you don’t dance to The Balladeer’s tune, then you shall dance to someone else’s; ‘tis the fate of the cornered mouse who stubbornly chases after the piece of the invisible cheese. There is no escape out of the cats’ den, for no cat grants freedom to its prey – and luckily for you, he is the type of cat who favors his mouse safe and well-fed as long as she dispels his boredom and loneliness.

The final feast shall eventually come. But will you be able to survive the last yet desperate bite of his fangs?

thundersoother

(when lightning strikes, nothing can stop it.)

word count: 4,999

trigger warning: none

note: afab character, platonic scaramouche / wanderer, can be interpreted as reader or oc

oh lordy, this is going to take more than three parts.

part one - part three (tba) (send me an ask to be tagged!)

He floated in the void that is absent of any light or sound.

Time has been frozen since the moment the puppet decided to forego the sight of the pavilion and closed his eyes. Whether the amount of times the sun and moon have changed places, or the changing color of the leaves on trees, he has no way of telling. The world continued to move forward without him, as he was stuck in a state of stasis.

Sometimes, however, he would hear. Be it soft air gently blowing, or the faraway pitter-patter of the rain, or the silence of the mansion that is ever-loud. Though all of them would sound muffled. Sometimes, he would feel. His fine garment resting against his skin, the feather resting atop his chest. Despite this, he was still in slumber.

Even as he heard a distant echoing groan, like something heavy was moved, he could do nothing. His eyes remained closed and his body stayed still, like that of a corpse. A silly thought flashed by in his mind; could his mother be back for him?

So the puppet waited. Strange rhythmic thuds were heard throughout, this sound never before heard, and he realized that it’s footsteps. Soft and light. It would fade away, then become louder, and fade away again. It became a repeating occurrence for an amount of time he could not discern.

At some point the footsteps became louder without receding in the slightest. Followed by the sound of wood sliding against wood, he realized only then, that someone had entered his room. Thud, thud, thud, the footsteps continued until he heard it stopping at his side.

In the silence that ensued, the cavity in his chest seemed to overflow with something he couldn't put a finger on. Anticipation, excitement, all of it? It overwhelmed him. Still, he remained just as he was - eyes closed, body unmoving.

The puppet would soon come to regret and loathe the fact. Because, whether it was short or long, moments later he would soon hear the footsteps moving away, briefly interrupted by the sliding of a wooden door, continuing with gradually-receding footsteps.

Questions go unanswered. The fullness in his chest drained away and was replaced with something different. Heavier, bringing him down to drown in something inexplicable, more painful, more sorrowful.

Don't leave, the puppet wanted to scream, don't leave me alone, alas his lips did not move.

There was only warmth that went down his temples. Again and again in an uncontrollable stream. The tears that caused him to be outcasted are now coming out of his eyes once more. No matter how much he willed it to stop, no matter how much he wished for those accursed tears to disappear, it didn't, and he could only lament in silence for moments that stretched almost endlessly.

When he heard the door opening once more, those tears only dripped faster. An invisible hand gripped his body whole as if trying to crush him under the pressure. The footsteps that never changed in rhythm and speed again stopped at his side.

The fact that he could not tell just who it was in the room with him– is it his mother? Is it someone else that had somehow found this mansion? No matter, it does not change the fact that he wished for no one to see this state of him.

How comedic. When before the puppet wanted them to stay, now he wants nothing more than for them to leave. Selfishly, at least, until it stops.

Then, any and all thoughts he had dissolved to nothingness as a coolness touched his temple. The left side, then the right side, over and over as his tears have yet to stop. Something soft soon replaced the cool touch to wipe his tears away. Though the touch itself was brief, he came to the conclusion that whoever this is, it could not be his mother.

For his mother still retained warmth as a being with flesh and blood. A bodily warmth yet void of any affection, thus making her cold. But whoever this might be, even if they are cold, their movements and touch reflected a warmth that he never had the chance to experience. Until the tears had dried, and only then did they also stop.

Like a core belief has grown within him, that perhaps… they will stay regardless. 

When the footsteps sounded again, he expected to hear the door opening, but there was nothing following it. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but the room felt just slightly warmer. The presence of someone else inside the vast mansion with him warranted ease to his mind and lightweightedness in his chest.

And so the puppet found himself to be a part of a routine. Still drifting in the sea of black, he could only listen and feel. Monotony broken by a new monotony. The unfamiliarity became a source of comfort for him.

Though indeed, he is still unsatisfied with this state of his. His curiosity would not be quelled like this. The questions he had were unanswered, and they would remain so for what he thought would be eternity, until fate would prove him wrong.

It was sudden. First he heard a muffled voice, soft yet stern that faintly sounded familiar to his mother, but with a difference he could not put his finger on. Then he felt his body being moved. Having no control, he could only sway while he was lifted with the same cold hands he hadn’t felt since the first time. The frontside of his body pressed against something stiff and as cold as those hands, his head turned to the side and nodded in the same pace as the footsteps he had memorized overtime.

The puppet had to wonder then, who is taking him and where? What prompted this change? And what will happen moving forward? He thinks, and while he does, in comes another voice that belonged to a man. He and the woman talked to each other. Their words are muddled together and hard to discern, but if he focuses on it…

"...you two… …sealed… …guarding him?"

"...only purpose…"

"...to talk to… ...lonely?"

"...at all."

Vibrant red and soft brown bled with black until it was completely replaced. Panels of wood below him was a sight he hadn’t seen for a long while. Such is the same for the walls, and the maple leafs that fluttered into the hall, an abstract decoration to the mansion.

Ah, these were the sights he never thought he would ever see again. Though disoriented and blurry after having his eyes closed for so long, he could still discern everything he saw. Nothing changed, not that he thought anything would, thus he was only proven wrong.

The voices compelled him to finally wake. As his head shifted stiffly, he came to an abrupt stop.

"Give us a moment."

His chest vibrated with a voice not of his own. It's one that is familiar to his mother - the voice of the woman who was carrying him on her back. As he was lowered down carefully, there were hurried footsteps that led away from him, probably belonging to the man he heard, though he hadn't seen him.

The floor was cold. The wall was cold. The yellow light shining onto his eyes was bright despite being obstructed by someone. He couldn’t see through the blur. When he could, what he saw was a living mirror. Clad in light purple clothes and face near split-image to the one who created him, lacking only a beauty mark below her purple eyes. Violet hair framed her face. With all of these facts in front of him, and a sense of hollowness in his chest that weighed him down, he spoke;

"...you're not her."

"No. But I am like you."

She remained unfazed by his words, while he was struck by her's.

Another puppet. Another discarded puppet.

That’s what she is, and that’s why she was in the mansion in the first place. The place that already housed one useless puppet, what would the presence of another one do to its empty space? They wouldn’t even leave a trace.

“A human came in and said that there had been a landslide,” she spoke as if not noticing the shock in his face. “I dare not take the chance to see if the place would collapse or not, so I planned to carry you out and leave. I hadn’t expected you to wake up.”

“I heard voices.” He said. “I always heard noises… footsteps, and doors. But never voices. That’s why I woke up.”

“Apologies. I suppose it was quite a startling experience for you.”

Startling… yes, indeed. A stasis broke out of his control, and he was at the center of the storm. Perhaps there was a sense of self-preservation within him that prompted him to wake out of his slumber. And maybe, just maybe, this is fate’s way of telling him to grasp his own life.

“Now that you’re awake, do you wish to stay–”

“--I want to leave.”

“Very well. Here, you can climb onto my back.”

He watched her turn on her knees and leaned her body forward, waiting for him. He could only stare, caught off-guard by her frankness and composure. It’s as if nothing could faze her. Such strong front, then he remembered that she was most likely the one who wiped his tears away. That memory is enough to confuse him.

“I can walk.” He said, not letting his thoughts linger. “I… I want to walk on my own.”

“As you wish.”

Though he said so, it took a considerable amount of effort for him to be able to stand on his two legs. The utility of his being as a puppet means that he has no muscle strength that would deteriorate with the lack of use, but after so long, the feeling of wooden floor beneath his feet needed to get used to.

All the while, she stayed an arm’s distance away and watched him vigilantly. Not once did she offer help nor did she say anything. Even once he was able to stand straight, she merely placed down a pair of geta near his feet and beckoned him to follow her afterwards. Her silence is unnerving.

The human down the hall seemed to be nervous while his gaze wandered everywhere it could see. Despite that, he perked up and approached them with fast steps, eyes never leaving his form, yet he appears to be most gladdened.

“You’re awake! How are you feeling? Your sister said that you’ve been sleeping for a long time. If you’re tired, don’t force yourself, and I can carry you instead.”

The puppet turned his head to the other one beside him. She who is taller than him, whose face bears too much resemblance to the one who discarded him, who kept vigilant. The only thing shared between them is the nature of their existence, but does that constitute them to be brother and sister? …a question to be answered another time.

As they headed to leave, the human introduced himself as Katsuragi - a yoriki of Tatarasuna. He told them of the smelting facility at the center of the island, the main source of supply of jade steel for the Shogunate army, and also told them of how he came to discover the mansion.

“Why don’t you come with me to Tatarasuna? I’m sure the others will welcome you!” Katsuragi was enthusiastic in his suggestion. He was quick to consider his offer more, however, upon landing his gaze on the golden feather. “Although… I’m guessing it would be harder to explain all of this to them…”

The puppet grasped the feather in his hand silently.

“Well, here, we don’t have to tell them about this place. I can just say that I found you two in a cave. How does that sound?” He suggested.

“If we are to come with you, then the proposal is agreeable.” Said the other puppet.

“‘If’?”

“I will go wherever my brother goes.”

His gaze met her's silently.

The puppet recalled the pavilion showered in red leaves and peeking warm sunlight. No matter how long he would sit on the en, time never seemed to go forward. The leaves would remain red, and the sun was never replaced by the moon. Indeed the mansion was exquisitely built, but stasis does not maintain its beauty. Not for those that have been trapped within it.

“We’ll go.” He said finally. Voice meek in volume, but his will resolute. “Can we stay there?”

“If you’re looking for a permanent stay, well… it’s not up to me. You’ll have to convince Niwa to let you stay. Oh, but don't worry! I will do everything I can to help you.”

How kind, he thought of the human. With the ease brought into his mind, his steps to ever-nearing freedom felt lighter.

It felt as if he was reborn anew.

He'd forgotten the true sun's warmth. The smell of salt permeating in the air. The breeze against his skin as if it was greeting him. Welcoming him.

The puppet was overfilled with joy, but he did nothing but to stand there, clasping the feather harder than he ever did. Admiring the world before him with wide eyes as if it would disappear should he blink. Ingraining the image deep into his head, every little detail, every little feeling, holding it precious.

He could say nothing. His lips may move and he may let out his voice, but there is nothing he could say. Try as he may to voice his thoughts, to let his feelings out, there are simply no words that would even be enough for it. Perhaps his silence itself could convey the myriads of feelings he's experiencing.

If he had the power, this would be the moment he wants to spend in eternity.

Dreams must come to an end sooner than later, however, but just at this moment he is satisfied. There will be many more chances to bask in nature. For now, his spirits lifted and steps light, the puppet turned to the two figures waiting for him at the distance.

Katsuragi had a pleasant and gladdened expression while he stood by the other puppet, impassive as she had been. Her hands in front of her thighs, holding–

The puppet reached his hand to his head, feeling the silky soft tuft of his hair instead of his veil. At that same moment, the other puppet leaned her weapon on the rock wall and moved towards him, his purple veil in hand.

“I didn’t even notice when it fell off…” he mumbled, sheepish and embarrassed.

“The wind blew it off.”

He’s not sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or not.

She affixed the veil back on his head and even went so far to ensure that they are evenly parted. Only when she was sure it wouldn't fall off again did she step away. All the while, he trailed behind her, his fingers pinching the purple veil securely. Katsuragi watched them with a hesitant smile.

“You said that you two have been sealed there for a long time…” he began nervously, “but it doesn’t look like it’s affected you the same way as your brother.”

“I do not concern myself with these matters.” She answered easily, but without a hint of condescension. “I am only here for my brother.”

Whether out of their creator’s order, or if she, for one reason or another, decided to do it herself, he does not know. One thing he is sure of, however, is that he could always ask her later and she will answer.

This assuredness of his is strange. For he only spoke to her only a few moments ago. The time spent listening to all of her footsteps never clued him anything about her. She is silent, always, and little of her can be discerned. Yet he found himself trusting her so easily… Be it his own naivety or hidden instinct, he is not limited by time to ponder about this.

Afterwards, Katsuragi led them deeper into the island. He spoke of the workers of Tatarasuna and the small community that lives on the island with much fondness. He is constantly assuring them - or rather, him - that the people there will welcome them with open arms. Though the sentiment is much appreciated, they will only know once they arrive.

With every step taken deeper into the terrain, the land seems to slowly swallow them. Rock walls surround them, so tall it makes the sky look like it’s farther than it already is, yet wooden houses are built on its walls. Gaps are covered by hanging bridges, and at the center of the opening, a big device hung afloat, radiating with heat.

The breeze no longer blew, but the air was much warmer. Sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs and lapping at the beach drowned out by clanging metal against metal, wood against wood, and the crackling of fire. It’s as if they had entered a completely different world.

Judging from appearance alone, this does not seem like a suitable place for mass processed-ore production. Yet all the people they passed by looked unbothered by the seemingly ill-suited environment for such heavy jobs.

And just as he watched them curiously, they, too, seem to reciprocate his sentiment.

The Puppet ducked his head, his legs bringing himself closer to the other Puppet. She paced in front of him, but upon his approach, slowed down to instead walk by his side. She pulled on the top of his veil slightly, just barely hanging over his face. If he peeked over the veil and up to her face, he would see her keeping her chin up and gaze straight ahead.

Katsuragi led them through busy workers, up an elevator, to one of the many houses built on the walls. He made them stay there while he went and called for the two figures of authorities known as Niwa and Nagamasa. The Puppet wondered if he ever got tired running up and down such inconveniently placed buildings.

“We should prepare ourselves,” the other Puppet said suddenly, “they are bound to ask us questions. We must have our story as straight as possible.”

“Do we really have to lie to them?” He mumbled. “If they take us in, and they find out… wouldn’t that be bad?”

“Our current circumstances are too intricate to explain, and our identity can be held against us if we flaunt it. Let us observe for now, and when the time is right, perhaps we can tell them the truth.”

It feels wrong. Should these people grant them a place to stay, share their resources, and accept them just as Katsuragi said, would it not be treacherous of them to hide the truth? And what does she mean, their identity held against them? The way she spoke is as if she is wary of humans, which could imply her experience - or lack thereof - with them.

“Do not worry,” she puts her hand on her chest, “I will do the talking, so any lies told, will only be told by me. If the worst comes, I will shoulder it myself, and ensure that you are safe.”

So he nodded with a sealed lips. He returned to pinching his veil, thinking deeply of what went down in the past hour. So many things happened already, bringing forth change that he never thought would come to his life.

A blessing. This must be what it is, right?

The passage of time goes uncounted. Katsuragi eventually returned, following in tow behind him is a young man with a red streak in his hair, and an older man with a stern expression. The empty space in his chest felt as if it churned.

Katsuragi introduced them; the young man with a kind smile is the Armory Officer of Tatarasuna, Niwa Hisahide. The puppet thought of how he seemed to not fit the description of a smithy when compared to the older man, Mikoshi Nagamasa. Katsuragi was sent away afterwards while the two puppets were brought into the room.

“Have a seat, please. Make yourselves at home.” Niwa spoke kindly, before he disappeared into another room. The other puppet bowed forward slightly, then went to sit on a mat. He followed her move albeit more clumsy and less refined.

“Katsuragi said that he found you two sealed in by a landslide.” Nagamasa, who was silent this whole time, spoke suddenly. “And that neither of you remember anything."

“I remember that I am his sister." She corrected. Lied.

"Do you remember your names?"

"I remember that we never had a name to own."

The Puppet was given no name by his creator, that much is true. He only had a feather to his being. When he looked at the other puppet, she seemed to have nothing on her. Her outfit is adorned with patterns of flowers, and her hair band has nothing of note. Was she never left with anything in the first place?

"And what about you, boy?" 

Not expecting to be talked to, the Puppet shied away from the human's gaze.

"I don't remember anything."

"Not even your sister?"

"...no."

She remained as she was before. Unchanging. It's hard for the Puppet to conclude whether or not what he said was the correct thing to say.

"Well, you two look like each other, at least. There is no doubt that you are related." Niwa returned with a tray in his hands, two cups of piping hot tea balanced on it. He placed each cup in front of them, still with a kind smile. "Katsuragi mentioned that you wanted to stay here. Although that is fine, are you sure you don't want to find out your origin? We can try looking into your background and see if we can get you home. With your style of clothing, it shouldn't be too hard."

"...my sister said that we are nameless in the first place. If that's true, I suppose we never had a home to begin with."

Home. Is it the majestic pavilion where time is frozen, or is it the palace of the nation's ruling Archon? Were they his home, or were they just places he used to be at? If coldness and emptiness are what constitutes a home, then he doesn't want to go back.

A touch landed gently on his shoulder. Impassive as always, the other Puppet's hand on him only serves as a positive affirmation for his words. But Niwa had a smile - a different smile when compared to the one he wore when he first greeted them. It's smaller. It doesn't look quite as happy now.

"Then you can make your home here." He told them. “Though we hope that you can contribute to our community as well.”

“Thank you for your generosity. We will surely repay the favor in full.” Her hand came down from his shoulder to his own, folded on his lap. She bowed her head and once more, he followed in suit. “I can start working right away. Please let my brother rest.”

“No! N-no, I can work too!” The Puppet’s sudden outburst was surprising not just to those in the room but to himself as well. The other Puppet raised her head and squeezed his hand with just the slightest amount of pressure.

“You just woke up, brother. You need rest.” She rebuked him gently.

“I think I’ve rested more than enough. Far too long, even!”

“Now, now, you two,” Niwa cuts in between them, calm, “none of you will be working right now. Since you'll be staying here, how about you familiarize yourself with the place and everyone else first?"

The consideration is taken with fluster by the Puppet. But even so, his lips quivered with restrained joy. As he glanced at the other Puppet, still impassive as ever, he found that he could honestly care less about what it is she thinks right now. All that he needed to know, as he squeezed her hand in his grip, is that she will be there with him in his new life.

Night fell before he even realized it. They were taken around the area and introduced to the people, and were even invited to their community dinner. They were recluse and sat somewhat separated from the others, but the lively atmosphere captivated the puppet.

Afterwards, Katsuragi took them to his home, as he offered to house the two puppets. It’s a humble abode, its size could not compare to the mansion that previously housed them, but… the little trinkets around the house, the fireplace, the signs of life… it made it feel much more.

“I still have some things to take care of, so please make yourself comfortable.” Katsuragi spoke from the door, apologetic and shy.

“Apologies for intruding, Master Katsuragi.” The other puppet bowed her head.

“No, no, you’re not intruding at all!” He waved his hands quickly. “I’ll be on my way now. I’ll have someone send you two spare futons shortly.”

The door slid to a close. The sound of footsteps becomes quieter and quieter, muted by the gentle waves of the sea. Its sound covers the silence and envelops them in a dreamlike state, almost like the time when he slumbered. Everything felt isolated and faraway.

“How are you feeling?”

Her stare hides nothing behind it, her voice shows no emotion. He couldn’t figure it out. Why she appears so nonchalant and distant and yet every action she has made thus far seems to constitute to his wellbeing.

“I’m alright.” He answered after a moment of hesitation, and with a few more, spoke, “how about you?”

The other puppet tilted her head. “There is no need to worry about me. I am fine.”

He didn’t want to assume. But she was the one who stayed with him in the mansion, the one who carried him on her back as they left, the one who promised to lie in his stead to keep him safe. Undeterred by everything, why would she ever be affected? The puppet bristled in shame.

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize either. I should be the one to do that.”

In the room lit dimly by the mixture of an oil lamp and ocean-reflected moonlight that bled through the window, the other puppet sat down where she stood. He sat across her, hands fisted on top of his thighs. She is too uncanny. Too much like their mother. He hated it - the fact that she looks like her.

A strange silence stretched between them before the other puppet finally spoke.

“When Master Katsuragi first found us, I told him that you are my brother. You were unconscious at the time so I could not discuss it with you beforehand. I thought that the term might have brought you some discomfort, considering that you never knew who I am.”

“I would like to apologize for that. But also for asking you to continue the act, just for when we are around other people.”

There is an unexplainable split in the hollow of his chest. His frown came before he even realized it, uselessly hiding it away with a turn of his head. When she is right in front of her, there is simply nothing he could do to hide.

“...it’s alright. I understand.”

"You seem troubled by it."

It’s strange. He knew her as a presence that hovered and lingered around him while he was in the void, more so than a person with an actual relationship with him, up until only a few hours ago. Even now he barely knows anything about her. But still–

“That’s not it, I…” At the last second, he bit the top of his tongue, stopping himself from continuing.

But her coaxing was gentle, “it is alright. You can tell me,” and he relented.

“...I don’t want it to be an act. I want to be your brother, and I want you to be my sister. Because… because we are, right?”

Maybe it was the dim light’s illusion, but he could’ve sworn that surprise briefly flashed across the other puppet’s face. She was silent for a few moments more. Thinking and pondering deeply. Her silence made him nervous.

“I am not quite familiar with the details of a relationship between siblings.” She told him finally. “But if that is what you want, then I will do as you wish. I shall do my best to be a good and proper sister for you."

It's a start. It's definitely a good start. The puppet's lips bloomed to a smile, though it soon shrank to be one of awkwardness and shame.

"You know… I'm technically your older brother, right? But why… it feels like our roles have been reversed…"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you've been very protective this whole time for my sake, but shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't I be the one to protect you? Isn't that how it usually goes?"

"I do not see the point of conforming to traditional roles. If we can protect each other, then that is all that matters."

But how will he be able to do that? Meek, curious, and maybe a little bit hesitant, all that he has done so far is following his sister's words. The lies she's told are clear acts of her protectiveness of him, as if her previous actions weren't obvious enough.

He must learn. He must grow. So that he could also protect her, just as she has done. It will take a long time, he thought to himself, as he maintained his gaze with her sister.

But he believes–

"Then I will do my best to protect you too, sister."

–that day will arrive.

part one - part three (tba)

she-on, 07:58 AM, 2/28/2023

do you have any hcs of what the yan genshin boys would b like when darlings on her period?

i'm gonna rank them from best to worst when it comes to dealing with this . let's see how they do.

best

zhongli is on top of his game. it's like he was born for the sole purpose of pampering you when you're under the weather. he'll insist on you taking it easy, drinking soothing teas, eating nutritious meals, and taking medication for whichever symptoms are the most prominent. if he seems oddly content, it's because he is. he won't state it outright, but he wants to leave the impression that him being in the position to care for you like this is worth the sacrifice of some... freedom. he knows of herbs and remedies to help make the experience as painless as possible.

kazuha already dotes on you as if you were royalty. while he leads a rather transient lifestyle, he puts your travels on pause to ensure you're properly cared for. he's sweet to a degree that'd be condescending from anyone else, but because it's kazuha and it's completely genuine, you can't call him out on it. he'll lay your head down on his lap and softly recite poetry until you doze off. he might not know much about periods specifically, but he treats it as if you were injured and need to be nursed back to health. he makes you your favorite meals from ingredients foraged locally. considers it a privilege on his part to be able to care for you. warmth blossoms in his chest whenever you have no choice but to ask him for something, your pride temporarily discarded.

albedo knows when your period is about to start before it even crosses your mind. he calculates every phase of your cycle and writes the important dates down in a calendar. he's all about preemptive care, he'll give you some concoctions of his own making the night before your period is due to start so you don't even have to worry about cramp pain. if you've been particularly troublesome lately, he might withhold this miracle elixir until you butter him up. he doesn't come outright and tell you this either, you have to do some trial and error to discern the specifics. as an alchemist, anything to do with the functions necessary to create life greatly fascinate him.

childe has sisters, so he's roughly familiar with how unpleasant periods are. he'll grin and reassure you that a little blood has never frightened him. thinks you're the cutest thing ever when you have to rely on him more. he's happy to oblige and is surprisingly intuitive about requests you never state verbally. he makes the tastiest soups, the kind that warm you from head to toe with every bite. there's no use trying to pretend you don't like it because he knows. he calms down on his tendency to tease you, since in his view, it's never his intent to actively make you feel distraught (unless you've acted out in a way that puts you in danger).

cyno means well (probably) but can come off as a little overbearing. he's literally breathing down your neck and constantly reminding you that if you need anything, just say the word. he's carrying you around, bringing you meals in bed, running all over town to get that one snack he knows you love; he's nothing if not dedicated. the thought of you being uncomfortable, much less in pain, is unbearable. when you do fall asleep, he's peeking into the room every five or ten minutes. every time you get your period, should any blood get on the sheets, he'll look you dead in the eye and ask if you've gotten in a fight lately. when you don't laugh, he starts explaining the joke, so it's better to force a chuckle.

diluc is just awkward about it. he refers to it as 'your time of the month' but even choking those words out is a struggle. he considers it to be a very private occurrence and thinks it'd be polite to tiptoe around the subject, as if it were taboo. the staff at dawn winery make further accommodations for you — everything you could ever want is a ring away. he's normally skeptical about you going outside, but since you're under the weather, he'll grant your request. if you're observant, you'll notice he's more inclined to give into your whims during this time. just don't get too carried away or he'll say he knows what you're doing at pointblank.

scaramouche is mostly annoyed that you're going to be more cranky for a while. your attention is essentially his lifeblood, but when you don't feel well, you're focusing on that instead of him. kind of inconsiderate tbh. once asked dottore if there's a way to prevent this, but dropped the idea when the harbinger said 'it only requires a few organs to be removed.' scaramouche would prefer your organs remain as is. he'll sigh and huff about how lucky you are to have him while spoon-feeding you, despite the fact he secretly enjoys it. his words are a whopping 10% nicer until you start to feel better, something he is frequently reminding you of. when your period is finished, he keeps staring in your general direction, fully expecting you to trip over yourself to thank him for his benevolence. if being delusional is a game, then he's winning.

when it comes to xiao, he's not awful per se, but this is likely his first encounter with menstruation, so you have to explain everything about it. he gets a bit freaked out the first time you wake up to bloody sheets, although you wouldn't be able to tell unless you closely observe his body language. he's somewhat at a loss when you explain what you need during your period and probably doesn't grab all the right things. he makes you eat these awfully bitter herbs that are supposed to help with pain. also makes some watery tea but gives you such a hopeful look, you don't have the heart to complain about the taste.

worst

“Kuni, let me sleep in for just a bit longer. Let me be lazy, just for today?” for Scaramouche?

"Hah, are you trying to shamelessly schmooze up to me? Well, it won't work this time— hey!"

With a not-so-gentle tug, you successfully pull him down into the bed with you. At first, it’s an awkward tumble of limbs trying to regain purchase, but eventually, the struggle ceases. He could very easily pry you from his person and hurl you elsewhere, which is why his reliance on halfhearted complaints instead doesn’t deter you. 

Scaramouche lets out an unnecessarily loud sigh. “Whatever, have it your way. You humans are so needy. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today, otherwise, I wouldn’t entertain your antics.” 

He says that as if he isn’t settling his hands on your waist and getting you into a position he likes. You force yourself to endure it, the unnatural coldness of his touch, the claustrophobic sensation that arises whenever he’s close. You’re brought all the more closer when he presses the side of your face against his chest. 

“Wouldn’t you say this is a display of neediness?” 

Further solidifying your point is how he starts running his hands up and down your back while the question is posed. He pauses his ministrations once the words leave your mouth, and although you can’t see his face from this position, you can clearly imagine his frown. 

“Impudence sure is your forte. You said you wanted to sleep, or is your memory that terrible? I’m simply lending my assistance. You’d be extra annoying to deal with if you’re sleep deprived,” he gives a sardonic chuckle that nobody asked for. Is he capable of non-derisive laughter? 

“I learned from the best,” is all you care to mumble, his presence sapping your energy more than any sleepless night could. “Be a good pillow for me. I’ll let you hold me more often if you are.” 

“... Whatever.” 

It’s difficult to take his supposed disinterest seriously when he accompanies it by resting his chin atop your head. 

"where are you going?"

yandere aventurine's words sends chills down your spine as you got up from the seat. the both of you were having dinner for the night that he prepared.

"and why?"

you knew of his behavior towards you. his possessive, obsessive, freak-like nature that terrified you sometimes. but, you loved him in every way possible. he developed this behavior the moment the two of you got into a relationship.

but sometimes, he scared you. yet, you knew how to comfort him. his anxiety of you leaving him.

"i'm just headed towards the bathroom. here, you can have my phone in case you're worried i'll be in there forever."

you smiled, handing the gambler your phone.

"i just needed to go really bad. i have been drinking alot of water." you reassured him, which he in return, relaxed.

"alright."

that's when you gave aventurine a kiss, before working your way towards the bathroom. you did your thing, and left.

you returned to aventurine scrolling through your phone, which you didn't really mind. you had nothing to hide, and everything to show was for him to see.

"you've been texting someone." he said, eyeing at you carefully. "why are you texting dan heng? and why." his voice deepened, nearly into a threatening tone. jealousy hinted in his voice.

"ah!" you perked up, beaming. "i was just asking him questions about the data bank. i got curious about something. you can read the messages." you smiled, returning to your food.

aventurine took a moment to scroll through the messages, seeing that there was no interest of romance between both parties. a sigh of relief, and he returns your phone.

"i see. well, don't text him too much. you know how i feel."

you nodded, before poking one of the pieces of your plate with your fork, hovering it towards your boyfriend's lips. "okay, i won't. i'm sorry, i just wanted to ask some questions about the data bank." aventurine opened his mouth, accepting the food.

you won't admit it to his face, but you've been trying not to text anyone for the sake of their safety. you were well aware of aventurine's possessive nature towards you, and sometimes it scared you. sometimes it turned toxic. but you understood at the end of the day, because you loved him.

... or was it your stockholm syndrome? or was it because he manipulated you? or was it because you got too scared, you knew your way around things?

at the end of the day, nothing could stop aventurine from attaching that already-apparent tracking device on your ankle.

Bleeding Pastels (Kabukimono x Reader)

The puppet's life is colourful; while tainted and stained with a dark smudge in the middle- originating from his creation- at least it won't discolour the world he lives in...

right?

Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader

Kabukimono era

Canon-divergent. Some abuse briefly described later on. Symbolism-heavy. Read between the rainbow to find the shadows that the light casts.

-------------------------

I. Pink

The day that the boy first saw you, he almost mistook you for a god.

You sat alone underneath wispy sunlight that broke through the gaps in the bright pink petals above you. Gently fluttering down around you, picking up with the occasional spring breeze; sakura petals adorned your atmosphere and lay like a bed around your form.

The shade of pink that dusted the boy's cheeks was only somewhat darker then the beautiful pale pink of the sakura and it's flowers.

The boy could only stare in awe, lost in his own world of reverence and admiration- that was until a beautiful, soft voice pulled him out of his head.

"And who might you be?"

The puppet blinks. Your bright, vivid irises held him captive among the falling blossoms; his pale pink lips open and close without a sound- the boy unable to find a response.

You laugh. Gods, that sound makes something within him stir. It steals his artificial breath and replaces it with something so soft and light that he does not dare to look too deep into.

"Well? There's room for both of us here, if you want." You say with a smile, palm patting the soft grass beside you.

It takes a moment for the puppet to register your words, but as soon as he does it's like a string has been pulled taut- and he longs to loosen the tension that has formed. He makes his way over to you, his knees folded underneath him as he merely stares at you silently.

"You're that boy that guy brought with him a couple days ago, right? What's your name?"

For once, the puppet speaks.

"I... Don't know." His voice is soft, light, and almost somewhat childish. He sounds so innocent and boyish.

Your eyes wander down his face and trail down his arms. He doesn't say anything, but he can see you stop and stare at the joints in the middle of his arms; the ones attached with a ball and some hinges.

"Hey, you're not human, are you?" You say with curiosity in your tone, as you pull yourself onto your knees to take a closer look. Your hands are soft as they take ahold of his wrist and hand, pulling it out to a stretch as you stare in wonder at his unblemished skin and the way his arm connects to the rest of his body.

The puppet watches as a bright pink petal flutters down against the untainted sky and lands delicately in your hair.

"I hope you forgive me for oogling you; I've just never met someone like you before..."

Your eyes flicker up to meet his wide-eyed stare; and you offer him a smile as bright as the sunlight above.

"Your skin is so soft, and the way your elbows are designed is so cool! Are your knees like this too?"

The puppet doesn't say anything; instead unable to find an appropriate response as all he can do is nod his head.

"Really? That's so cool!" You say with wonder to match his own.

"I'm (Y/N). I-"

Your mouth hangs open, but no words escape you as you watch the puppet's hand slowly move atop your head. Delicate fingers pluck what his eyes are so intensely trained on from your hair, before bringing it down infront of the both of you to see.

"This... was on you."

You blank at the pink petal between his fingers, and for a moment the puppet's mind whirs to life with questions of whether he had done something wrong, but you soon snap out of your trance with a laugh. The boy sits still, confused about your reaction.

"Thank you. You don't have to show it to me though." You say before snatching the soft object from him and swiftly placing it atop his own head.

You laugh at the expression on his face from your actions, and the puppet finds the wonderful sound brings a smile to his face. He doesn't quite understand why you did that, or why you're laughing, but he finds your joy infectious all the same.

II. Purple

Over time, the people of Tatarasuna as well as the puppet himself learned how he differed and how he was similar to the humans around him.

He felt pain and bled just like they did. Yet, he didn't seem to have a heart. He didn't need to eat or drink either, but he claimed that he could and that he wanted to do so to 'become more human'.

The puppet- now called Kabukimono by his peers- also didn't quite understand social ques and what was wrong or right. After finding out that humans would often disrobe and bathe when they became dirty, the puppet had tried to do the same in the nearby stream of village. That little event had a few people swiftly ushering him to put his clothes back on while laughing awkwardly; as if he was a child who didn't truly know what he was doing.

Which, in all honestly, was pretty much what he was. A child who knew nothing about the world or people around him. But he was learning.

The pastel purple clothing that he was so often seen in flowed freely in the breeze; the smell of lavender was picked up by the summer wind off his freshly washed robes and filled his nostrils with the calming scent. It was the smell that adorned him whenever you were the one responsible for washing his clothes (as you often took turns among the other villagers to look after him).

He had grown to love that scent.

"Just... like... this." You said as you dragged the teeth of the comb through his wet hair; letting the Kabukimono watch your actions through the mirror.

"Think you got it?" He nods at your question, and you hand him the comb.

His hand is steady as he mimics your previous movements; dragging the teeth of the light purple comb through the strands of dark indigo atop his head. After a few strokes, he pulls the comb away; a deep violet staining the teeth as if to remind him that he wasn't like you.

You smile at him. "Perfect! Just like that. Now you're all set to wash yourself next time you need to."

The Kabukimono stares down at the comb in his hands; staring down at the violet that taints the pastel shade. You had gotten him this comb, it was one of the first objects he had ever owned. And now, because of him, it was stained a dark purple from the dye that was used for his colour- that still coated his hair.

And yet, the same dark stain that now marred his gift from you had dyed your palms a similar shade to that of the comb- a bright, pastel purple. Originally, he had panicked and apologized profusely for staining you, for tainting you, but you merely had laughed and said you didn't mind. That it would go away eventually.

And while others wore gloves when taking care of him and his hair, you didn't. You let your fingertips run through the dark locks and dance across the top of his forehead; you let him feel the warmth and softness of your touch as you scrubbed the dirt and dust that had accumulated in his hair. You let his colour stain you; and somehow, you managed to make the dark purple such a bright and beautiful shade of lavender once it touched your skin.

"My... arms hurt. Can you do this for me?" He says quietly, turning towards you and holding the comb back up to you with a pleading look in his eyes. You smile, the corners of your eyes crinkling in adoration at the Kabukimono's barely-concealed lie.

You had done a lot to take care of him and teach him about various things; he knew that lying was 'bad' and that he shouldn't do it. But even so, on rare occasion- like right now- he would say something small that didn't match what you already knew. And it would always end up with you taking a little extra care of him then you otherwise would have.

You knew you shouldn't let him keeping lying, but he was so bad at telling them, and it was adorable how he yearned for attention... so you couldn't make yourself scold him for his behaviour. You let this lie slide like all the others.

"Alright, alright. Come on then, turn around."

You can see the corners of his mouth tip upward in a smile, however subtle, as he did as he was told and let you run both the comb and your fingers through his hair.

The Kabukimono couldn't help but watch your hands. To seek glimpses of the bright purple staining on your palms that could only have been from him. He always loved when the other humans would point out your coloured hands and comment on how you practically took sole care of him with how often your hands took on the familiar shade.

Even when he wasn't by your side like a loyal puppy, it was like a part of him was still with you. Even if at first he saw the colour as a stain upon your otherwise perfect skin, you had assured him that it was harmless, told him you liked the colour, even.

You had taught him that being 'selfish' is one of the 'bad' things, and he shouldn't be 'selfish'. But if it was so 'bad', then why did it feel good? Why did it feel good to leave a piece of him with you, as if to claim you as his own human?

The teeth of the comb grew ever darker as they sorted through his indigo hair.

III. Yellow

For a being that was supposedly crafted by the hands of the god of thunder, the Kabukimono couldn't help but jump at each loud roar of lightning that dared to light up the dark night.

"Oh, Kabuki..."

The puppet was shaking; his arms wrapped around his knees as he sat staring at the floor, trying to ignore each jolt of thunder only to be hyper aware of every crash of it outside the window.

The pity in your voice somehow comforted the puppet, even more so when you kneeled beside him to pull him into a hug.

"It's ok, you're not in any danger. The Electro Archon would never hurt us."

The Kabukimono still shook. Sure, she may never hurt you, but to him- every bolt that struck the earth was searching for him; the fruit of the anger and hatred he knew his mother held for him.

Each flash of lightning lit the inside of your warm home a bright yellow. A stark contrast to the usual deep purple of the electro element he knew so well.

Your hand smoothed over his back, the other wrapped around his shoulders as you held him close. Another flash had him jump once again; burying his face into your shoulder as if to try to hide from the storm.

"Oh, hey, hey... It's ok..." You tried to soothe him, your voice gentle and low as his arms wrapped around you to hold tightly to your clothes.

Your arms wrapped around him were warm, firm, secure, as if you were the one shielding him from the tumultuous rain and deafening thunder.

"Ok, c'mon, lets go to bed."

The boy in your arms sniffled as you pushed him away from you, guiding him towards your plush bed.

"B-But... My bed..." He mumbled out, his eyes falling onto a small mat off to the side that you had done your best to make comfortable. And as shabby as it was, the Kabukimono loved it. You had made it for him, after all.

"You won't be able to sleep if you're over there, will you? This storm doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon, so... Why don't you stay with me? That way, I can protect you."

The deep purples of his eyes were wide and glossy with tears at your proposal; but he swiftly nodded and climbed onto the bed with you following suit.

The two of you got settled underneath the blankets, and the Kabukimono couldn't tell if your bed was just more comfortable then his, or if he really liked being beside you that much more then being alone. He watched as you shifted around; moving the pillow you normally slept on to rest underneath his head as you lay flat on the mattress next to him.

You smiled at him, a smile that made his chest tighten and something within his artificial body malfunction. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of your fingers brushing along the side of his face, pushing his bangs out of the way of his eyes.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep? I'll be right here if you need me."

The rain was loud on the old glass of your home; a flash of lightning bringing attention to the lack of purple that the Kabukimono had so loved to see on your hands.

But the fear of the thunder triumphed over his sadness that his hair no longer stained your palms; and he couldn't help but jump at the noise that shook him to his core once again.

Trembling hands grabbed your soft, steady one and brought it up to his cheek. The Kabukimono rested your palm against his flesh, nuzzling into it even as he shook in fear. You couldn't help but pity him, the pad of your thumb brushing over his cheekbone as you indulged him.

"You won't leave me, right?" He says quietly, warily, as if he's afraid the storm will hear his weakness and aim straight for his non existent heart.

The smile you give him almost looks sad. But it remains as sweet as it always does nonetheless.

"Never."

"You promise?"

Another crash of thunder has him jump once again, but with your hand against his cheek, he's quick to recover.

"I promise."

He peers at you and sees no trace of malice; no trace of annoyance or deception or betrayal. All he sees is you; your beautiful smile and crinkled eyes, glistening even in the darkest of nights.

The next flash of yellow lightning that illuminates the two of you only proves to show that even against the Electro Archon herself; your light is so much brighter then anything the god could conjure to harm him.

He doesn't jump at the sudden thunder. Instead, he lets out a shaky breath and pulls you forward- bringing your head onto the pillow that you had given him before he buries his head right underneath your chin; pushing himself into your body as if he wished to become one with you.

You can't help but smile at his unintended affection. Your hands move to embrace him; to smooth over his back and run your fingers through his hair.

"It's... bad to break a promise." He mumbled into your chest. "You won't break your promise, right?"

You let out a soft chuckle, tightening your embrace as you let the boy cling to you for life.

"Of course I won't. I love you too much to hurt you like that."

Your words were accentuated with another jolt of thunder. Another flash of yellow. And then a second bolt of lightning- this time, right through the cavity where his heart would have been.

I love you.

The words repeated in his head like a prayer; and he nestled himself deeper into your embrace in an attempt to muffle his thoughts and hide the pink on his cheeks.

The innocent, pure little Kabukimono had heard the words before. Humans who were close, who kissed and slept in beds together would say it to one another. Humans who were bound for life by little bands of metal on their fingers would whisper it to eachother whenever they pleased.

His tongue burned- yearned to repeat the words back to you, but something inside of him refused. Rejected the idea of feeling the intimacy of human love... of the idea that he could be with you just like all the other humans who loved eachother.

That night, when the puppet and his human had fallen asleep, the Kabukimono found himself without a single dream.

IV. Blue

Even when the Kabukimono wasn't under your care for that day, he still hovered near to where you were.

The old woman who was tasked to care for him that day was a vile creature. One who refused to acknowledge the puppet as anything close to human; instead treating him as merely an object, a plaything, something that could do whatever she wanted of him without complaint.

Because the poor Kabukimono didn't know how.

The puppet watched from where he sat by a large bucket. His hands were filthy; red and sore from scrubbing away at the clothing that he was forced to wash by his current caretaker.

He watched as you bid farewell to your fellow villagers; a basket hung off your arm as you walked into the nearby woods.

Oh, how he longed to follow you. To see where you were off to, to accompany you and watch every move you made.

He looked down at the water in the bucket, browned with dirt and dust. Surely, the water flowing through the stream in the forest would be nice and clean, right?

He's quick to set everything aside; emptying the water into the nearby crops like he was instructed, and then following you into the forest.

It was like your presence had merely teased him; he stumbled blindly through the brush hoping that you would be found in this direction. That he could, at the very least, be able to lay his gaze upon you once more and lighten this heavy feeling in his chest.

What the Kabukimono hadn't thought about, though, was just what you may be doing out here in the forest. And what he saw when he finally approached the familiar babbling brook stole his artificial breath away- the feeling all to familiar to that time had first laid eyes upon you.

The water was a beautiful crystal blue; your clothing lay next to the stream, a telltale sign of what he had stumbled across.

You looked divine. Beautiful. The way the water ran by your bare form and dripped so deliciously from your skin had the puppet star-struck. Pink was quick to dust his pale cheeks.

Then, like an all-too-familiar flash of sickeningly-yellow thunder, a thought occurred to him.

He shouldn't be seeing this.

Sudden panic washed over him, a fear he had felt so many times before now baring it's fangs at him once more.

If you caught him, you would leave him too.

He bolted.

The trees rushed by him in a blur of green; sticks cracking beneath his feet as he retraced his path out of the forest. Birds flew and squirrels panicked as he went by them like the roaring wind; and finally he reemerged from the trees to the sight of the village before him.

He felt warm. He couldn't get the image of you out of his head. The picture of you bathing in such beautiful blue waters was ethereal. He felt his chest tighten even further at the memory.

"You damn puppet! Where have you been!?"

The Kabukimono's face paled instantly at the shrill sound.

"You thought you could just go for a stroll through the forest, huh?! You didn't even finish your chores!! And where's my water pail!?"

The voice boomed. It's origin angrily stomping up to him before grabbing his wrist so harshly, he was sure it would have bruised if he were human.

If he were human.

"You damned-... Can't you do anything right!?" The old woman shouted, dragging the shrinking boy along behind her and towards her old, decrepit house.

"I'm sorry-" He tried to speak, tried to make himself heard over the pounding in his ears.

The woman was like a constant flash of thunder; waiting for the perfect moment to strike the puppet where he stood. And this time, it looked like he was all alone in this storm.

The woman tossed open her front door before dragging the Kabukimono inside, harshly slamming the door shut before she turned to him with a wild look in her eye. The puppet looked absolutely pathetic as tears welled in the corners of his violet eyes.

She shouted at him. Cursed at him. Pushed, pulled, hit him in whatever way she felt fit to.

The Kabukimono shut his eyes, and recalled the divine scene he had stumbled across just a little while prior. He pictured you, standing within the crystal blue water of the stream, and he pictured himself standing infront of you. The sky such a rich, pale blue above the two of you as you found comfort in one another's embrace.

"Are you listening to me!?"

The puppet opened his eyes, and all he saw was blue. The world was blue, he was blue, the old woman was blue, and the constant patter of liquid splashing onto wood from his cheek was blue as well.

A sad, soulless, cold blue. The blue of loneliness and pain.

He remembered how beautiful you looked underneath the cherry blossoms that day he first met you. The shade of pale pink that so beautifully complimented the darker pink on his cheeks that day.

He remembered how tightly you held him under the flashes of yellow that threatened to consume him whole. How you told him you loved him- how you promised you would never leave him.

And he remembered the blue of the water running by your hips. The blue of the sky above, the blue of the cotton of your clothing.

The pounding in his ears was overwhelmingly loud.

A blue hand raised itself before him.

Before it could hit it's target, the pounding stopped.

Everything stopped.

V. Red

The world's colours had returned. But they were so much darker then before. As if drenched in thick shadows that clung even to the most well-lit areas.

And it was like the Kabukimono was just seeing the real world for the first time.

The green of the foliage outside had turned from a beautiful bright shade to a deep, forest colour. And even darker still were the greens inside; where moss and mildew grew along the corners of the old house, and the various stains from archons-know-what seemingly having appeared from nowhere now dotting the surroundings with the deepest shade of black.

The puppet had seen black before. But this was different. Darker. And it was like the entire world had been tainted by those stains of black.

Even the deep brown of the rotting wood below almost seemingly started turning black as a dark red seeped into it's pores.

Such a deep shade of red it was. The colour akin to the same that flowed freely from his cheek; although his was so much brighter then the vile woman who stained the floorboards.

No- if he wasn't a human, then she wasn't either. She was merely a creature, a worm- that now lie pathetically limp at his feet.

Her words, despite his attempt to drown them out, had seeped into his head regardless.

You will never be human.

You will never be wanted.

You will never be needed.

Perhaps she had been correct.

After all, she had only been repeating what he had been telling himself already.

But, if she was correct, then what did that make of the words that the other villagers had said? What, pray tell, did that make the humans themselves?

Liars. All of them. Filthy, red-stained liars.

They had never once truly cared about him. Merely tossing him scraps, at best; demanding that he do things for them and barely leaving him to fend for himself.

Barely giving him space in their village, barely caring to try and be 'polite' with him- even when they demanded that he be polite around everyone he interacted with.

At first, he just accepted it. Of course he did. The world was bright, colourful, beautiful- but now, he's seen it for what it truly is. He's seen the suffering, the pain, the lies; the shadows etched into every crevice of this forsaken world.

He knows that they had lied to him when they said they considered him a fellow human.

And you had taught him, the saint that you are, that liars are bad.

Oh, you... how beautiful you are. How wonderful and amazing and kind you are. Out of everyone in this damned, pathetic village, you had been the one to treat him like an equal. To treat him like a human.

To love him like a human.

His chest tightened at the memory of your voice above his head that night; "I love you" falling so effortlessly from your lips as you held him close.

Archons, you loved him. You promised him you would never leave him. And you had never broken your promises before.

You loved him.

Deep purple eyes fell to the human shaped insect on the floor. And a laugh bubbled up from within him.

He did something bad. Terrible. He had made the woman who hurt him stop moving.

But it felt good.

And if it felt so good, then... why stop?

He was already stained a deep, dark black. He could never go back to being as pure as you had seen him. Perhaps, he had always been this way- perhaps that's why his so called 'mother' and her fox-pet had decided to seal away what was rightfully his. The power that she had inlaid within him.

The power that now pounded so freely through him. And it seemed like the only way to silence it was to let it go.

As the puppet exited the house, a trail of red followed behind him. Electro crackled at his fingertips as he walked towards the center of the village, and he revelled in the hushed and desperate whispers of the humans he passed by.

The pounding in his ears- in his head- only grew stronger with each passing second. The crackling electro a disgusting shade of darkened, tainted yellow as it emanated from him.

And like a bolt of thunder that once had scared him so; flashes of yellow now flew through the open air and showed no mercy to the humans he was surrounded by.

Screams filled the air, filled his ears- and all he could do was laugh. Such pathetic insects, all scrambling to seek shelter from his divine wrath. It was chaotic, beautiful, as red stained the ground and painted the houses in it's corruption.

A gentle breeze kissed the cheek that had rapidly healed it's wound. With it, it brought delicate pale pink petals from the sakura trees that were so abundant in this land.

The village fell still. Nothing but the blossoms that danced on the wind dared to move; to catch the eye of the puppet-murderer.

"K-Kabuki...?"

A voice so small called out to him, stirring him from his thoughtless-thoughts.

He turned to you, and it was like your very presence made the surrounding area brighten to how it was before. Suddenly the world was perfect again; bright and happy and welcoming and loving.

Your eyes, so beautiful and vibrant, were wide and tinged with fear. Your hair was still wet- evidence of your bath, but all it served was to remind the puppet of what he had seen. Of the divinity he had been so blessed to witness.

You didn't move as he walked up to you. You couldn't. Shock had it's tight grasp on your body and mind, and you were unable to even speak at the bloody scene around you.

The puppet smiled so sweetly at you. And despite being the same smile as he had always given you, it no longer looked so innocent.

"I love you." He said, voice proud and unwavering.

Your eyes darted to meet his. He looked so...

dark.

"What...?" You couldn't even process what he said.

"You said you loved me that night, and I never said it back. I love you, (Y/N)."

"What-... what did you do..?" Your voice trailed off into a pathetic whisper, and it made the puppet smirk as his hand moved up to cup your cheek- much like how yours had once done for him.

"They were... bad. All of them. They could have hurt you, like they did to me..." The pad of his thumb spread a deep red over your skin as it rubbed your cheek. "But you love me. You promised you would never leave me. And I know you would never hurt me like they did..."

It was like his eyes had become gateways to the abyss itself; dark, devoid of life- of the boy you had once loved. Black stained his beautiful purple irises; tainted the beautiful colour with darkness and something sinister. Just like the blood that now stained your cheek.

The puppet-murderer intently watched your face drain of colour; intently watched as your pupils shrunk into pinpricks- and made note of your body starting to tremble.

He knew the signs of fear- he himself had expressed the same many times before. He knew you were scared. His chest felt like it tightened around a non-existent heart... he didn't want to see you scared. Not of him.

"...They were going to hurt you. I-I heard them. T-They were waiting for you to come back, a-and they would have... I-I couldn't let them do that. I couldn't let them be bad. I-I wanted to protect you..."

You still continued to tremble. It was like you had barely heard the lie he had told- but you didn't push him away when he pulled you into a cold, blood-stained embrace. And that was enough for him.

"I will... protect you. Stay with you. I will... be good for you."

...another lie. He was no longer good- he could never be good again. His soul- his hands- were now permanently stained red... a red that would be drained of colour as soon as you left his side- and he refused to be seen with that vile black ick. He refused to let you go.

It was almost sickening how swiftly he was able to return to how he was just hours ago... innocent, sweet, gentle. Even as the vibrant crimson stained his once-white flesh. Tainted him. Changed him.

As you gazed at him with a slacked-jaw expression, you could see the surrounding area- the massacred village- devoid of colour... of life. As if the puppet-murderer had drained the pinks and purples and blues and reds and it all congregated into a swirling black in the center of his beautiful indigo irises.

Was your beautiful, sweet little puppet-boy always so... heartless?

The way he pressed his lips to yours was robotic. Stiff and almost forced- but you knew that this was just his way of doing things, until he got used to it.

Until he got used to kissing you. Loving you. Tainting you.

A colourless tear cascaded down your cheek, your eyes closed as the puppet continued to kiss you as sweetly and gently as he could.

When he pulled away, he gently took your hands into his own, and looked down to see you trembling in his grasp. He noticed just how pretty your hands were covered in red.

And his violet eyes flicked up to your face, your hair- his red-stained fingers reaching up to pluck a crimson petal from your hair.

The pretty pink looked good on you, he once thought.

But he thinks you look so much better covered in red.

Summary: Dottore had always been impressed and interested in the making of puppets, with Scaramouche at his disposal he could finally dive into the topic and create a prototype of his own..

Pairings: Scaramouche/Balladeer x puppet!reader

Notes/Warnings: Reader is completely gender neutral and has no pronouns beyond "you"! POC friendly! Reader is said to have long indigo hair, but is not physically described beyond that!

When Dottore brought up the idea of creating a puppet as an experiment by following his design Scaramouche had said he didn't care what he did in his free time, but he truly did. Knowing first hand what it was like to be created as an experiment or to satisfy someone's curiousity, it was hard not to care even if he didn't want to. Especially when the Doctor had said that you would be created by "following his design".

It was dysphoric to live in a world full of humans that looked and talked exactly like you, but were so incredibly different from you. Humans who if they found out the truth would betray and fear you - not that he cared about anything like that anymore. But you likely would. You would have to go through that as well, if the Doctor didn't simply dispose of you after he was done tinkering...

Scaramouche had said he didn't care, but would occasionally he would go out of his way to deliver something to his corner at the palace to see his progress. Dottore knew immediately and would always have a smirk on his face when the Balladeer appeared to deliver something. He would love to poke fun at him, but he didn't. He would simply give some insight or details about his progress without acknowledging what they both knew to be true.

The Doctor was successful in creating you and giving you life, while you were made following his design you didn't exactly resemble him. There were some details and personality traits he could connect between you, well more like traits he had when he was still just Kabukimono - but at the same time you were very different from him too. Dottore had clearly had some creative freedom in what he made you look like, but the long indigo hair you had was clearly made to resemble his.

It was eerie looking at you as you reminded him so much of his past. You were always quietly observing everything around you with curious eyes, you tried so desperately to not be a burden to anyone. He hated your doe like eyes that would look his way occasionally, they were filled with so much innocence it was almost disgusting to him. Technically you were still in your infancy, just in a grown body.

In the end Dottore didn't much care for you or even need you. Creating you was a simple act of curiosity - to truly understand this delicate act of creating artificial life. Once his curiosity had been sated, he simply moved onto other things and never thought much of you or your presence beside him or away from him.

It was actually the Tsaritsa that gave you freedom and a name. While she wouldn't involve herself in matters conserning the Harbingers free time or personal life, she made an exception for you. To her you were alive and thus deserved to live like it, with your own room and own name - free to do whatever you wished. But truthfully you didn't know how or what to do with such freedom. Unlike Scaramouche you didn't have a purpose before or after creation, so you didn't have anything to strive for.

You weren't like humans, you couldn't have a normal life where you eventually grow old. You could potentially live till the end of time and it left you hollow. Longing for something you couldn't quite grasp, something like a purpose.

You stood barefoot in the pure white snow, your head tilted upwards towards the grey winter sky. The cold didn't bother you, you couldn't even truly feel it. The snow flakes raining down the sky fell against your face, but didn't melt when landing on your face. After all... you weren't a human. You didn't produce warmth that would cause them to melt away, you couldn't stay out too long to prevent you from being buried in snow. Perhaps it had been a joke, but you still followed the suggestion.

Scaramouche watched from the sidelines as you stood still enjoying the pure snowfall. He didn't know why he didn't just leave to do what he was supposed to, perhaps he was curious. His feelings and relationship with you were complicated to say the least. He wasn't your creator like Ei was his, but he felt some sort of connection to you. He didn't necessarily want to feel connected with you, but he did.

He hated that a small part of him was curious about you, of what you were like. If he could possibly relate to you or if he would form a connection with you if he were to approach you. Even if you were technically his kin, he knew it didn't mean anything as in the end even Ei had betrayed and forsaken him - who was to say you wouldn't do so as well?

You both knew he was there watching you, he often was. You never acknowledged him as he seemed to not want to interact with you. You did know of your connection, you would silently and carefully go through the Doctor's projects and had come across the plans that he used to create you. You longed to connect with him knowing he was possibly the only being you could ever relate to, but he refused to come close to you.

Unbeknownst to you he was actually quite protective of you. He had once heard some fatui members talking about you in a rather provocative way and it didn't sit right with him, he couldn't ignore it no matter how hard he tried. He didn't kill the morons, but he did make sure they'd never utter another word about you or to you. He didn't need to warn anyone else as the word spread around quite quick.

He would face stupid comments from the people he was supposed to acknowledge as colleagues, but he didn't respond to them. The next day he found you standing behind his door with a gentle smile and a nod. He had never seen you smile before, or been this close to you - his chest filled with unexpected warmth from the small interaction... You said nothing before leaving him standing puzzled in his doorway. You didn't need to say anything for him to understand what you meant. That was the beauty of your connection, you could understand each other so easily without the traditional need to say anything.

He later wandered out to the courtyard out of instinct and found you there once again gazing at the sky. This time though, he couldn't help but approach you. He didn't even know why or what he was going to say or do, but he still kept going. His steps caused the snow to crunch beneath his feet, alerting you to him. You curiously turned around to watch as he approached...

A/N: Not proofread lol

Can you do platonic Arlecchino with a reader who ran away from the house of the hearth, and years later she found out from the other harbingers they are with the Traveler helping them out on their journey, she later confronts them on Fountain? How would it go, (also can this take place after 4.3?)

(Sure! If you want a part 2 just give me some more context! Dms or just request again! If you want me to change something’s lmk!)

My Dear Child

•When arlecchino first noticed your absence she thouggt you were playing around with Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet but when they noticed them alone to tricks..he was puzzled where was her child?! You were 5 at this time of course Arlecchino was worried you were your CHILD her biological one to be in-fact so she had her fatui unit look for you, over the years she didnt send as many out but she did still kept her eye out not stoping until she finds you

•10 years later you were in fontaine, you didnt think arlecchino was still looking for you so you were a little more laid back, but it was a huge mistake they spotted you immediately seeing that smile, hearing that laugh, it made then smile, happy, they finally found their sibling! So they would quickly go and tell arlecchino he would send extra fatui agents out to fontaine

“My child why did you run?”

•You knew that voice..you didnt think he would still remember fatui agents circling around you, you heard what happen with her and furina you couldnt run you were cornered you were screwed

“It doesnt CONCERN you I didnt want to kill innocent people”

•Arlecchino would sigh fatui agents would grab onto your arms to make you stay in place Arlecchino would walk towards you lifting your chin smirking

“Your siblings missed you lets go home.. My Dear Child”

(FINSIHED!!! YAYAYAY im sorry this was short! So i am willing ti make another part ofc!)

Sharing a Jacket - Drabble

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

“I told you to wear appropriate clothes,” he muttered beneath his breath, words laced with his usual displeased venom, “Look at you. A shivering mess.”

His glare was colder than the wintery air of Snezhnaya, his eyes making you tremble more than the snow. Scaramouche was dressed more appropriate for the weather, in a heavy coat. Fatui issued, you know as much, you'd seen his coworkers wearing one similar. Despite your adamant hatred for the organization, specifically the one you married, you couldn't help but long for one yourself as the sharp air seemed to practically cut your skin.

You shivered, teeth chattering and finger tips going cold. He was right about telling you to dress appropriately, but you'd assume this harbinger event would be indoors and went lacking on your usual attire. As such, you were now stuck in ankle deep snow, wondering how even the sunlight of Snezhnaya was cold.

“Come here,” he ordered, using his hands to spread open the insides of his cape. He seemed clearly upset, more than usual, but still allowed you into his arms, where the warm cape was wrapped around you as well. Your face nestled against your chest, all you could think about was how you hated the touch of the man, but you wouldn't complain, no when he was providing you with more warmth, that was only growing hotter with your body heat.

“Thank you, my lord,” you managed to stutter out into the fabric of his shirt, followed by a sniffle from your red, runny nose. The apology was forced from your lips, it wasn't very often that you were grateful for anything that he'd given you.

He merely hummed, a usual response for him. His arms around your waist somehow felt better than the icy cold air, causing you to only press against him harder.

“Be glad that I love you,”

I AM IN DESPERATE NEED OF MORE OLDER SIBLING XIAO, KAZUHA, AND SCARA CONTENT.

ur writing is literally so good im in love......

anyway UHHH older sibling xiao, kazuha, and scara with a stupid younger (technically adopted) sibling!!! turns out theres a reason for their stupidity

(y/n was basically sheltered and isolated by their 'parents' which is why they're so dumb in anything they do)

Xiao + Kazuha + Scara with a Little Sibling!Reader

Hmhm thank you. Sorry it's late.

Part two here.

Strictly platonic. Slight mention of tics. Spoilers for Scara's real name.

Xiao:

Xiao is not the most knowledgeable of mortal life, and he understands that.

But you, only a child that does not know literally anything about the outside world? It reminds him of an animal that was born sheltered, not knowing of how much potential they could've had outside.

Xiao feels bad he doesn't know how to help. In fact, both of you need help. But still, Xiao has taken on the role of a caring older brother, so he just has to help in some way.

He doesn't lose hope, though. He knows more than you, obviously. Xiao's lived thousands of years.

Your big brother may not be that big of a help in social situations. If you accidentally use the wrong tone towards someone in a conversation, and that person gets angry with you... Xiao will not hesitate to defend you.

He's a little too intimidating. Xiao has learned that a simple glare would get those mortals to shut up, so he does just that.

He tries to comfort you. You're confused with recieving comfort aswell.

At first, Xiao is embarrassed that you get all confused when he tries to make you feel better about yourself. Then, he thinks of how aweful your parents must've been.

At first, he wants to stop embarrassing himself. Yet Xiao thinks, who else will teach you, care for you? Soon, Xiao will completey drop his tsundere act, and openly show love to you as your big brother.

His love language is quality time, preferebly in silence, just knowing that you're alive and next to him.

During this time, Xiao likes to take you on nature walks, away from the harbour and inn. He finds places to sit, watch leaves and bushes sway in the wind, and possibly pet some wild animals.

But he knows that you should learn normal human life. So on some days, your big brother decides to take you around the harbour.

On your little walks around Liyue harbour, you're not the only one learning about mortal life.

Your bond is so strong. Sometimes, you find yourself getting trapped in one of his hugs. Actually, this has happened so many times, you understand completely what Xiao wants to say, to communicate, to let you know.

He might even give you gentle, hesitant, slow headpats.

Everyday, you are reminded how your big brother is trying so hard. Xiao wants you to have a happy life, and he's doing everything he can to achieve it. But, if you being "happy" means staying with him, then he'll gladly take you in his arms.

He loves you, he hopes you know that. He wants to tell you how proud he is of you, of all your progress getting over your isolated past.

Kazuha:

Kazuha thinks you're cute.

He feels scared, maybe paranoid when he has to leave you alone. But he shouldn't worry too much, he always feels a sense of urgency in the wind whenever you're in danger.

When Kazuha finds out about your parents and what they did to you, he feels upset. It almost angers him. You should've been allowed to go outside and explore the world, especially in the early stages of life.

So, he takes it upon himself, as your big brother, to show you all he knows.

Sometimes, when you do something stupid, like actually befriending a hilichurl... Kazuha would cheer you on. He knows what it's like to feel embarrassed, and he definitely does not want to be the cause of your embarrassment. Plus, you're just too cute.

He buys clothes you say look cute, and gift them to you. If you like sweets, Kazuha's going to give you little cat shaped sweets. At first you thought you were supposed to feed them to cats... But Kazuha thought you looked cute, so he took a little picture with his Kamera.

One time you accidentally said something rude to a person. Kazuha apoligized, which led you to apoligize aswell, but the person was still mad.

The next day, you and Kazuha were walking around in the city when you saw that same person, with backup. And they looked furious. One of them even said, "Get them!"

Kazuha reacted quickly before they could catch you. "Now isn't this going too far?" He questioned while grabbing your hand, using his anemo vision to blow a strong gust of wind to stop the group, and running away with you. With an innocent smile.

Kazuha knows since you've been pretty sheltered, you don't know much slang or big confusing words. So, around you Kazuha speaks easy, almost bad English.

But often when you two cuddle or hang out alone, your big brother tells you how much he loves you with poems, haikus, confusing words, old English, all that. It's like your big brother's speaking another language– Yet you somewhat understand after seeing that smile on his face.

Kazuha smiles so much around you, you probably developed a smiling tic, where your eyes close and you smile. Whenever you two greet each other, Kazuha's welcomed with that little close eyed smile of yours.

He thinks it's so adorable, your big brother always cups your face in his hands before giving you a little hug.

Will blow wind towards you, blowing your hair back, to see you smile.

One goal of his is to make you completely forget about your past, and your biological family. Another goal is to hug you everyday, another goal is to see you smile everyday, another goal is to tell you he loves you everyday, another goal—

You don't know a lot of things, and Kazuha helps you with that. But if you know that he is your big brother, and he loves you unconditionally, Kazuha will feel content and happy with you, which he already is.

Scaramouche:

At first, he thought you were so annoying. Did he really have to teach you how to do everything?

Occasionally he has yelled at you. But he always feels a weird sense of guilt he never felt before.

Scaramouche somehow finds out you've been sheltered by your biological family, that's why you acted so stupid.

He doesn't know how to feel about it. The next time Scaramouche sees you, he instantly feels regret. Now he's the one feeling stupid.

His face always softens around you. He's made a secret promise to himself that he'll never yell at you again.

Scara will take your hand to get you close to him, under his huge hat. He says it's so you don't get lost, but it's actually to protect you and for people to not mess with you.

Your big brother buys steals you kimonos, if you like those. Same with dango milk, and everything else.

Scaramouche will drop everything for you. You're way more important than what he was just doing.

"Well, look who it is." Scaramouche had his arms crossed. He was in a domain filled with electro.

He turned around. "Delighted to meet you again, traveler." The blonde switched to a fighting stance. "Hm. You already look like you want me dead."

The traveler sensed another presence enter the room, but had no time to pay attention to it, since the Balladeer could attack when the opponent was not focused.

"You've grown weak." "Big brother?" Scaramouche jolted.

He uncrossed his arms and looked to the side, seeing you approach him. Your big brother was hesitant to turn his attention to you, giving the traveler a side glare. Well, the traveler couldn't be stupid enough to attack him, right infront of his innocent little sibling, right?

Scaramouche kneeled down to your height. "Y/n, I told you not to come here, it's dangerous." His face relaxed, but still confused, asking for an explanation. In the corner of his eye, he could see the traveler's stance ease up and hide their sword.

"But I missed you." Scara tipped his hat backwards to see you better. He sighed after a moment.

"Alright, alright. I'll come visit you when I'm done, okay?" Your big brother gave you a quick hug. "Just go back for now."

You nodded. After giving the traveler a curious look, you came back from where you were.

Scaramouche stood up, crossing his arms again. "Th-The Balladeer? A little sibling!?" A squeaky Paimon voice shouted. The traveler has a ready stance again.

The harbinger scoffed. "Everyone has a family at some point in our lives, whether we like it or not." The traveler has more of an understanding of Scaramouche now.

If you're having trouble speaking for yourself, Scaramouche will gladly help you.

He desperately tries to keep you away from Childe. If you meet that ginger, you'll think he's a better big brother than Scara. He's scared you'll leave him. He doesn't want that happening.

Scaramouche doesn't want you calling him by his fatui name. He doesn't want you to call him someone that has multiple crimes to his name. Instead, he tells you his name is Kunikuzushi.

He's not used to being called by Kunikuzushi anymore, so it always warms his heart whenever you call him that.