Kiss Me Now...

GENSHIN masterlist

yan! sagau archons ; hairstyling yan! sagau scaramouche ; resist yan! dentist dottore ; tolerate yan! scaramouche ; goddess yan! scaramouche ; you left me yan! sagau zhongli ; for you have skin as radiant as the sun zhongli ; your hands in mine yan! children zhongli & childe ; quarrels yan! sagau scaramouche ; don't leave zhongli ; farewell zhongli ; forever scaramouche ; leaving / pt2

SAY YOU'RE MINE ( childe ) LOVE ME OR NOT ( diluc & kaeya ) - chapters ; 1 2 3 { tbc }

Scaramouche seems to only be able to treat you in two different ways - excessively harsh or excessively infantilising, neither of which you particularly enjoyed, though you could say you preferred the latter because it meant you weren't at active risk of punishment.

Today, he appeared to be in a good mood, if the scent of iron on his scarlet-drenched outfit was any indication. You clean his eyeliner from his face - trying to keep any thoughts of blood and gore away - and help him out of his clothes as you were taught to do, stepping back and lowering your eyes as he selects something more casual for the night.

He never has his servants dress him anymore - he always preferred it if you did.

He clicks his tongue sharply and you look up, surprised.

"Come here," he says, giving you a look that to others might have been a glare, but you have long since learnt to be the closest thing to a smile you have seen on him. "Or do I have to-?"

You waste no time in obeying, moving into his embrace before he can finish his sentence. Best to soften him a little while he's feeling warm - no telling when his mood would turn cold again.

"Hmph." He utters a sound of satisfaction, running a hand down your arm in your nightclothes. It isn't often he initiates physical contact, expecting you to know when and where he wanted your affection ("as spouses are supposed to do", as he puts it). Usually he liked you to give him a massage before bed or read something to him, but he reclines on his pillows tonight, holding you in the curve of his arm.

"Did you have a good day today, Scara?"

The nickname feels heavy and unfamiliar on your tongue, an illusion of closeness that could make or break you depending on when you used it.

His hand slides down to grasp your wrist lightly, and you tense.

"What a surprise," he chuckles. "You're behaving so well today."

You bite your lip, knowing it would be unwise to tell him that your conduct is the same every day, and keep still as he raises your hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

You hate how fragile you feel next to him. You know you can do nothing to take him on physically, not when you've felt the effects of his electro vision firsthand. Politically is certainly out of the question, what with him being a Harbinger and all. You feel so helpless, despite being no smaller than him, and it infuriates you.

But you do not stir, not even when he reaches to switch off the lights and falls asleep, running a hand through your hair with your head resting on his chest.

— word count: 463. thank you for reading!

-> I am like you - so never abandon me. In this world, it will be me and you side by side.

-> gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) with platonic brother Scaramouche! Spoilers for Scaramouche and Ei's backstories! Scaramouche is referred to by his real name!

-> Small mentions of death - not detailed! Unhealthy family dynamics?

Kunikuzushi came into this world as a mere experiment into the making of pupets. He wasn't meant to resemble the Electro Archon as he was merely a test to the limits of such technology.

While Ei didn't expect much to anything from it, yet she was still disappointed in him or rather disappointed of how he turned out. He was too emotional, too human perhaps, for her desired outcome. An imperfection.

This did not deter her, however. The second time she decided to create a puppet, she wanted something closer to the end result she wished. So, she created you. But even you were not what she hoped for.

Yes, you did resemble her - like how a child would resemble their mother, but that was not what she wanted. As neither of you aged or changed it was easy to mistake Kunikuzushi as your twin - the resemblance between you two was even more apparent than with your mother!

But what Ei seeked was a clone-like puppet to rule Inazuma in her stead - under her command, while she would seek Eternity for Inazuma in the plane of Euthymia. Neither of you fit into her standards, as she saw you to be too kind hearted, too human to rule the nation of eternity.

So you were cast out. Simply thrown away like used toys after she finished playing with them... She saw this as a kindness - but it seemed more like she felt guilty. That she felt like she owed you two that much after giving you life when you clearly felt like any other human.

Together you would stumble through the country side as wanderers, all while trying to learn everything about the world around you. Endlessly seeking something. Something to give you meaning to your existence, a reason to life. But if your own creator - your own mother turned you away, what purpose could your life possibly serve?

No matter where or how far you wandered together, it never ended well for you or those around you... They would either betray you or die - which your brother saw as another form of betrayal. Especially when the small boy had promised to...

At least through it all, you had each other. During the freezing nights spent sleeping outside - huddled together to avoid the biting winds, or days were you had to resort into leaning against one another after not having eaten in days. Helping each other through every nightmare...

Though you might not have completely noticed it, but all your hardships had changed Kunikuzushi over time. He was colder and more suspicious of others - always asking after their intentions. He smiled and laughed less... It was what he had to do to make sure he would never be betrayed again, it was to keep you both safe.

You were the only one to never betray him, and the only constant in his life... He knew he could always count on you, but he was becoming more paranoid. He kept thinking and dreaming of you either dying - with him unable to protect you, or you joining with the rest of the world in betraying him.

In a twisted sense, he was rather glad you were meek and dependent on him. It lowered the chances of you betraying him, unless influenced by someone else - which he wouldn't let happen. As well your own fear of abandonment wouldn't allow that to happen. But not to worry, as he was just as loyal to you. He would never let anyone or anything harm you, just as long as you stood by his side loyaly.

As he decended from his hopeful, happy and naive personality, he would come to cherish it in you. He wanted protect this part of you at all costs. You could still see the world in that sweet innocent way after all that happened to you, while he couldn't afford to do so - lest he put you both in danger. It was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make for you.

Even when the Fatui picked you up and he became the Balladeer, he wasn't opposed to hurting his fellow Harbingers or any Fatui member if they dared to threatened you or your life. You were his light in the darkness and the reason he actually wanted to create the world the Tsaritsa spoke of.

He never let you see that side of him though, you never met Scaramouche and for good reason. To you he was simply Kunikuzushi - your older brother, who protected you - even if his protection meant essentially locking you inside, unless with him of course.

The Fatui and its Harbingers essentially hated and despised him. He was cruel and never in a good mood, often screaming for any reason to anyone. While with you he was sweet and gentle, making jokes and doing menial tasks to keep you entertained.

You were the last piece of Kunikuzushi he had left and he would let you - and only you, keep it.

After seeing his backstory I've just been wanting to hold and comfort him - so I'm just milking out content from that, but I do have others coming ^^3

Feel free to reblog :)

Listen, I have been doing a lot of gen-z jokes lately that my friends are so done with me, so like what abt a reader that tells deez-nutz jokes all the time.

Ace definitely is with reader on the deez-nutz jokes. Terrorizing everyone in the mansion with deez-nutz jokes with Ace is now your favorite hobby.

Yes I am projecting rn.

🎲Anon

What if I told you the Gen Z!MC request I’m writing may or may not be exclusively these kinds of jokes. One of my friends too, started making deez nuts and ur mom jokes, and like a disease, it spread to the whole group. It is truly a curse upon this world.

You’re completely right, it would be Ace that joins you on this treacherous journey, the two of you coming to share one singular brain cell . Everyone else in the mansion is sick and tired of it, literally in physical pain when they’re around you two. Those who are able to leave have. Vil has taken on 10 new projects just to get away from this.

Even your other friends are traumatized after you get them with a sick “who’s candice” “can-deez nuts fit in your mouth” joke. Epel died a little inside. Deuce found it a bit funny the first time but is now reconsidering all his life choices.

The only one who can tolerate them is Lilia, who will be giggling while everyone else is stays suffering.

Platonic yandere fatui(plus the tsaritsa) thoughts? Doesn't matter if reader is young, teenager or adult lol

Once again going purely off vibes bc we don’t know much about most of them!

Just gonna write small excerpts for each of them but feel free to request more in-depth hcs for any of them! Scaramouche already has a full set here! 💕💕

Pierro is the strict father figure. What he says goes and will be obeyed without question. If he tells you to stay with one of the harbingers for the day then that’s where he expects to find you. When he gets to spend time with you himself though, he’s a lot softer and happy to do whatever activities you would like to

Capitano is like a second shadow. He doesn’t really interact with you face to face, preferring to stand nearby and watch over you like a guardian. The type of friend that scares off people who make you uncomfortable except 10x scarier

Columbina is the clingy best friend. She’s practically attached to your hip at all times and loves to drape herself over you at every opportunity. She gets super pouty when you pay more attention to others in her presence

Arlecchino is the doting older sister. She brushes your hair for you, she makes you breakfast, she escorts you if you’re going out anywhere. But she also likes to keep you on a strict routine and doesn’t take nicely to transgressions. It’s for your safety after all

Dottore is the scary cousin. The one you dread to spend time with because he’s always up to something and insists you help with his schemes. Sometimes he makes you sit and watch whilst he does autopsies on the recently deceased, and you could swear some of them look eerily familiar

Signora is the pampered friend. She likes to show you off by walking side by side with you. But not before she’s picked out what you’re wearing, and done your hair and makeup. She wants to be seen with you, but you have to match her standard. You have to show everyone why she’s the only one fit to stand at your side as your dearest friend

Pantalone is like your rich best friend that buys you whatever you desire. If you look at anything even a fraction of a second too long, Pantalone will have his wallet out before you can blink. He’s also definitely not above bribing people to stay away from you if he doesn’t like them hanging around

Sandrone is the smothering mum friend. She pampers you and loves to dress you up and just sit around with you. Doesn’t let you do anything yourself in fear of hurting yourself and insists on leaving everything to her puppets

Tartaglia is like the fun older brother. He already has experience looking after his younger siblings so you’ll be joining them. He likes to take you to fights to show off but won’t let you try incase you hurt yourself. He is fiercely over protective as well, anyone who dares to even look at you wrong can expect to be on the wrong end of his bow

The Tsaritsa is like an overprotective mother. She fears for your safety out in the big scary world, so she keeps you safe in the expanses of Snezhnaya where she and her trusted harbingers can watch over you

BLEED. — in which the Knave attends to her wounded little sibling.

— trigger & content warnings. depictions of injuries & blood, descriptions of violence, implied murder. 1.4k words.

— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. arlecchino & younger sibling!reader. reader is a member of the fatui. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). arlecchino is referred to using her real name.

— author's notes. arle <3

       "Oh, you— you came."

       Their surprise was evident, written all over their features as they stared up at the Harbinger. The eerie, echoing click of her heels cut through the silence that, upon her entry, had befallen the Fatui's medics. The microexpressions on her face—brows furrowed inwards, gaze focused on nothing else but them, and lips pointed vaguely downwards—promised a fate far worse than death for anyone who dared to interrupt her.

       Arlecchino was a calm, even-tempered woman...

       ...That is, she was a calm and even-tempered woman when her beloved little sibling was both safe and well. However, the blood soaking through the bandages wrapped around the lower half of their torso made it clear that they were not well. Safe, yes, but well? That, they most certainly were not.

       Her tall stance cast a shadow over their body. Perhaps if they were anyone else, they would currently be fearing for their life... but as they gazed up at her with a meek smile, it occured to them that they were definitely concerned (though undoubtedly in a far more lighthearted way than any other person would be).

       "You look so scary like this," they giggled timidly, snapping their gaze away and looking anywhere but at her. Subconsciously, their fingers fidgeted with the blanket draped over their legs. "Don't be mad... I messed up a bit. You know. Things— things happen..."

       Arlecchino sighed, cutting them off: "Are you wounded anywhere else, [Name]?"

       "No. Just there."

       "I see," she muttered thoughtfully, rolling up her sleeves. The inky darkness of her curse pulsed and spread, crawling further up her arms than it usually did—they couldn't help but frown slightly. Nonetheless, they said nothing of it. She would surely brush them off and tell them to worry more about themselves if they did.

       Arlecchino turned to the nervous agents in the room; the second they did, everyone immediately tried to appear busy, whipping their bodies away from the direction of the Knave and her baby sibling with such speed that it surely gave a few of them whiplash. "You all are dismissed."

       'Get out. Now.'

       With polite acknowledgments to her unspoken command, heads bowing to the Fourth, the Fatui's medics were quick to leave, urgency evident in their speedy steps. Anything they had been working on was long forgotten and left behind; certainly, the soldiers were unconcerned with their work. If anything, the only thing they were concerned with was getting away from Arlecchino. It wasn't very difficult to understand why.

       No agent wanted to so much as imagine what might happen if they were to somehow invoke her fury, especially now of all times.

       Once the final agent had left, and the heavy double doors shut—shockingly without any echo; perhaps the medics were afraid that even closing the door forcibly enough would agitate the Harbinger—their eyes shifted upwards.

       "Peruere..." they murmured softly, straightening their spine somewhat and removing the blanket from their legs so that they could gingerly swing them over the side of the bed. They wished not to agitate their wound further—it still throbbed and ached, so they knew that one incorrect move would render them doubled over in pain. Their elder sister took notice of their enhanced caution.

       "Did they give you any medication yet?" Arlecchino—Peruere, rather, inquired. She turned away from them briefly, speedily shuffling through the medical supplies on a nearby table. Scissors, gauze, antibacterial ointment...

       "They tried, but nothing worked... well enough, that is. My fever has gone down since I arrived and it hurts slightly less, but it just hurts far too much for any of their weaker painkillers to be effective. This base isn't well-equipped to handle wounds like this."

       Even breathing was a chore, really; each time their chest rose and fell, painful sparks clawed through their skin, originating at the gash in their side.

       "Hm." Her face twisted and soured somewhat. "...I suppose I have no choice but to speak to the Doctor once we return to the Motherland, then."

       Peruere then began thoroughly scrubbing her hands with special attention to the underside of her nails in one of the medical sinks, as to ensure that she did not cause any kind of infection to fester in their wound.

       Their breath hitched, and they immediately went on to frantically ask, "Aren't you busy? You don't have to come with me. I can return by myself, it really isn't a big deal... even if that means talking to him—"

       "No." Her eyes shifted to their direction (and for a moment, she couldn't help but think that they looked a little bit like a kicked puppy—dejected and pouty, as if they had somehow upset her). The Knave's tone softened slightly. "No. I do not trust the Doctor around you, nor do I trust these agents to ensure your safety. You are injured. I am the only one who can ensure no harm will befall you."

       "I can defend myself," they asserted. "I'm your sibling, you know."

       "I have no doubt that you can," she softly assured, drying her hands with a clean towel. "However, at the moment, you are in no condition to fight."

       With that, she collected the necessary items and walked back towards their bed. Setting all but the scissors aside, she kneeled down, and began cutting away at the gauze.

       "Did they clean your wound?"

       "Yes."

       She hummed in ackowledgement.

       Peruere's gaze softened somewhat at the sight of their wound—still wet with blood, the perimeter of the wound lined in matte crimson. She observed the way their stomach heaved with each breath.

       Scorching flames burned in her veins. Had she not known any better, she would resolve to deliver a fate far worse than death to whoever did this, to personally escort them straight to the lowest circle of hell and splatter their guts across the floor.

       (She awaited and anticipated the day that the Doctor somehow, in some way, brought harm to her sibling. Should that day ever arrive, she would finally have a reason, an excuse, to reunite him and the previous Knave.

       Peruere was patient. She could wait.)

       ...She did know better, however, and her sibling was just about as much of a force as she was.

       Whoever did this was certainly already well-acquainted with the devil.

       After squeezing some of the antibacterial ointment onto her fingertips, she gingerly spread it across the area of their wound.

       They grimaced somewhat, body instinctively snapping away from her hands. Peruere's freehand shot out to grab their hip with enough pressure to keep them in place but not enough to hurt them any further.

       "Shh. Be still."

       "But it stings," they whined, shooting her an accusatory glance; there was a glimmer of mischief in their glazed eyes, however, and she immediately understood that whatever they were going to accuse her of was unserious in its nature. "You're making it hurt on purpose."

       At that, the Harbinger rolled her eyes. It was clear that there was no true agitation behind the gesture.

       "No, it doesn't, and no, I assure you that I am not," she replied calmly, continuing to spread the ointment to ensure that every part of the injury was adequately lathered. "I put nothing on it that would make it hurt. Don't be dramatic."

       "Ahh... you're so mean, Per..." they sighed dramatically. "So terribly mean to your beloved, wounded baby sibling~"

       She chose not to feed into their mischief. Instead, she began winding the gauze around their body. Once she felt that it was properly wrapped—covered with enough layers to keep dirt and debris out of their flesh and blood—she pulled. "Is this too tight?"

       A soft hum rose from their throat as they inhaled as to ensure that it really wasn't too tight, even when they breathed deeply. "No. The pressure helps with the pain, actually."

       The Harbinger nodded, securing the end of the gauze. She then rose—though not fully, and rather bent at the waist somewhat to meet them at eye-level. The hand that was void of any residue from the cream softly carressed their face.

       Her pupils bore into theirs, thumb rubbing back and forth across their cheekbone. She was mindful as to avoid scratching them with her nail. Though she often told others not to gaze into her eyes for too long—'What you see may not be very pleasant,' she would say—they seemed to be an exception.

       In her eyes, as most do, they saw destruction, death, and madness. In them, it did not induce fear. It made them feel safe.

       And perhaps that made them no less mad then their elder sister was.

       That fate, however, was one that they were content with.

       The Knave withdrew, though not before placing a tender kiss on the crown of their head.

       "Rest now. We will depart for Snezhnaya when you awaken again."

please consider supporting your creators by reblogging & leaving a kind tag or comment!

each version of yan scaramouche throughout the years is ridiculously clinging in their own strange way. 

as kabukimono, the others at tatarasuna often joke that he follows you around like a duckling. there are practically stars in his eyes whenever you’re so much as mentioned, he’s absolutely smitten. his way of getting closer to you — and staying there — had a rather innocent origin. he just so happened to notice that you dote on him even more whenever he makes a mistake or seems to be struggling with ‘simple’ human tasks. at first, he really was having difficulty with things such as getting dressed and brushing his hair, but over time, he learned to conceal his progress so you would take the time to help him. 

the unknown feeling that blossomed in his chest whenever your fingers brushed or he was close enough to smell the incense on your clothes was divine. he’d come up with any excuse to remain by your side, leaning into his harmless image a little too much, albeit subconsciously. after all, you may not have been so willing to allow a man in your bed just because he claimed his nightmares were making it difficult for him to sleep… but because you think he’s so sweet and lacking any ulterior motive, you don’t even bat an eyelash, gladly opening up the futon for him to lay beside you. he just can’t help himself. there’s nowhere he’d rather be than with you. 

as scaramouche, he has a simple and ineffective formula. keep the doors locked + be the only person you can have verbal interaction with = profit? (there is no profit to be had). you’re so sick of him but he’s there anyway. what makes matters worse is his audacity to act like he’s doing you a favor, spending a few hours of his busy day entertaining someone such as yourself. he says it that way too. word for word. with his nose in the air. you really can’t stand him. this method is what he prefers to utilize by far. sure, there might be some sour feelings on your side, yet it eliminates the risk of you leaving him altogether. he can withstand anything — your glares, the frequent cold shoulder treatment you give him — because it means you’re still there. 

for a person who comes off as greedy as he does, he’s surprisingly content with very little. the slivers of mostly negative attention you give are enough to sustain him, the same way a cactus can survive on very little water. if the balladeer had it his way, he’d always be in your vicinity, but unfortunately, he has constant work as a harbinger. which is why he leaves reminders of his existence on and around you to compensate for his absence. even if he can’t physically be with you, the lingering touches you feel and the marks you see make him impossible to forget. 

as the wanderer, he’s essentially jobless, allowing him twenty-four hours in the day to stick by your side. to make matters worse, the dendro archon herself came to you to ask for your cooperation. lesser lord kusanali has seen how taken with you he is, and after some observation, decides you’d be a good influence on the ‘reformed’ wanderer. lucky you. instead of following you around like a cute duckling, he’s more of a feral stray cat. you’ll ask him if he has anything better to do and he’ll shrug and say not really. trying to throw him off your trail is impossible as well, his ability to track you down is uncanny. he claims that he has a sixth sense for ‘sensing idiots’ every time he catches you. 

in his humble opinion, there’s just nothing more thrilling than seeing every side of you there is to see. he doesn’t want to miss a second. if he isn’t in the mood to chase after you and you try to run away, you’ll end up facing a gust strong enough to knock you off your feet. should he be in a good mood, he’ll catch you. if he isn’t, however… he’ll let you fall over and snicker over your misfortune. his antics to keep you close are mostly bearable, since he doesn’t freeload and offers a decent amount of help in your journeys, whether it be fighting off hoards of monsters or cooking meals. it becomes far more sinister if anyone tries to intrude on what he perceives to be your special relationship, though. 

Summary: The moment he laid his indigo eyes on you was the moment your fate was sealed, he would have you - no matter what and he would keep you to himself forever no matter how dirty his hands got in the process...

Pairings: Scaramouche/The Balladeer x reader

Notes/Warnings: Reader is completely gender neutral! Poc friendly! Angst! Kidnapping! Forced relationship! Unhealthy relationship! Threats! Isolation! Starvation! Death (not reader or Scara)! Choking!

The Balladeer was a cruel and selfish man who cared about nothing but himself and his own goals. He didn't care who he had to use, what he had to do, no matter the consequences or the price to pay due to his actions. What he wanted was what he would get no matter what, like a spoiled child but far more dangerous...

It was hard to say what exactly made him take an interest in a nobody like you to the point he would claim you as his own... He was a difficult person to understand, perhaps even he himself couldn't fully understand his own heart. Not that he had one, he wasn't human and that's what made him infinitely more dangerous.

He had just returned to Snezhnaya and the sun hadn't even began rising yet when he met you. You were shivering admits the pure white snow and he was surprised to see you weren't dead yet considering the few layers clothing you were wearing... You looked up at him with eyes that looked so hopeless and dead, tear stains covered your cheeks and your eyes burned red from the tears you had shed.

Perhaps he had seen a part of his past self in you and that's what made him claim you as his own. You had nothing, you were no one with no one. You were the most pathetic thing he had ever seen and he just had to have you - not to save you or anything of the sort, but because he could and wanted to have you as his own. It's not like anyone would complain or try to stop him besides you and who cared what you thought?

All things considered he treated you well enough, at least better than what you thought someone who kidnapped you would treat you. He did have some rules like how you were to accompany him everywhere he went and stay silent unless otherwise told, you would sleep in the same bed as him every night and you were forbidden from talking to other people - especially the other Harbingers.

As long as these were followed you would be rewarded and treated like an actual person. He would punish you for disobeying of course, but not with violence like you would have originally thought. He would instead isolate and starve you until he was satisfied that you had learned your lesson... But as a human being it was incredibly difficult to follow them.

Your eyes had wandered for a split second out of curiosity because the new recruit just happened to stand out, yet it was enough for them and him to notice. The foolish recruit likely hadn't been warned before hand about you so their fate was sealed the moment they acknowledged your existence. They smiled brightly before heading towards you...

You wanted to scream at them to back away - to run away while they still could! You wanted to cry as you knew what was going to happen next, you knew it all too well... The horrified expression on your face made the recruit pause with worry, they didn't know what to do or say. But it didn't matter, nothing they did now could save them from what was to come next.

Your body refused to obey your mind. You wanted to run away and not have to witness what was about to happen, but you were completely frozen in place. Only thing you could do was stand there shaking with tears in your eyes, you turned your head the other way. You didn't want to witness this again. Please, not again...

You felt yourself dissociating from your surroundings, from the entire world. Next thing you knew you were in your shared bedroom with him watching over you. His expression was like one you'd see in nightmares. You knew better than to think he would kill you, but it didn't much make you feel better about any of it. Looking down his hands were still covered in blood... How sickening.

“You'd better beg for forgiveness.” He said in a tone that sent shivers down your spine.

You quietly sat up before getting of off the bed and standing before him, face to face. “Scaramouche...”

You were quickly interrupted by his hand that latched onto your throat, he held on so tight you were unable to speak. “I thought I had made myself clear.”

“How many do I need to dispose of for you to finally understand that you're mine? Or maybe, you actually like it when I kill them?” He smirked.

Something inside you snapped and the tears that had threatened to fall suddenly dissapeared. You were filled with rage, absolute rage in a way you had never felt before. Your hands shook and you glared at him with so much hatred that even he was left speechless. You gripped his hand so hard that he loosened his grip enough for you to speak.

“I am nothing like you.” Your words dripped of venom.

Despite your sudden change of character it wasn't long until he was back to his usual self and seemingly ignored what you previously said, this time he wrapped both of his hands around your throat and backed you against the wall. There was an obvious difference between your strength and his, he was the Sixth Harbinger, a creation made by the hands of an Archon and he wasn't human like you.

“I own you! How many times do I need to tell you this?” He shouted as he squeezed your throat tighter. “You're nothing without me!”

“You may own my body, but you'll never own my heart.” You managed to say back.

“Hahaha! Your heart? Why pray tell would I want something as stupid as your heart?” He mockingly laughed.

“Because you don't have your own.” Your words dug deep.

His hold became tighter and expression turned dark. He was seething, shaking almost from his anger. Never had you got him this angry, but you couldn't care less. The lack of air was making everything hazy, including your thoughts. Slowly you because limp in his hold and lost consiounse...

The Balladeer let go of your throat and instead wrapped his arms around you to prevent you from slamming against the hard floor. Humans were pathetically easy to break, a hit to the head and it was all over for most. Despite everything he still owned you and wouldn't let you break no matter how you pushed him. No matter how many times you tried to attack him or escape, you were his until you breathed your very last breath.

He laid you back down on your shared bed and pulled the covers over your body, he used the back of his hand to caress your cheek gently. He didn't wish to touch you with his still bloodstained fingertips, you needed to remain pure and bloodstainless. When in the comfort of his own chembers away from prying eyes he could let his more tender side out, in his own twisted way he did truly love you.

You didn't act out as much anymore but he did love the fire in your eyes when you did... Just like when you told him what you just did, no one dared to act that way towards him beside you. He wouldn't admit it but you were right - he didn't own your heart, not quite yet. There were moments in the past that he could see apart of you care for him despite everything, the human part of you that had a heart cared for him despite your brain telling you otherwise.

At night he would lay beside you and rest, but he couldn't dream like a human - instead he would see glimpses of his past, his memories. He was shaken awake by you and he could feel tears streaming down his face. He would have lashed out at you for seeing him like that, but the look on your face made him pause... You looked worried, genuinely worried about him.

“I'm fine. Go back to sleep.” He grumbled before turning on his side facing away from you.

Why did you make that face? He would have expected you to laugh and taunt him for being so vulnerable - so pathetic. But you didn't. You were actually worried. No matter how much you hated and despised him the human heart you had couldn't help, but care. He was glad he didn't have a heart, what a stupid thing to have. At least he tried convincing himself that he was glad...

His eyes widened and breath hitched loudly as you wrapped your arms around his body, your body pressed against his back with your face in his hair. He hated how much his face heated up and burned red from your breath hitting his neck, but your body was so warm and comforting against his that he couldn't complain.

You would forgive him soon enough and eventually your heart would give in, you would spent the rest of your life with him - there was no way you could resist him forever...

A/N: It was the picture above that fully influenced me to write this so.... Anyway likes, reblogs and or feedback are appreciated <3

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

Platonic yandere fatui(plus the tsaritsa) thoughts? Doesn't matter if reader is young, teenager or adult lol

Once again going purely off vibes bc we don’t know much about most of them!

Just gonna write small excerpts for each of them but feel free to request more in-depth hcs for any of them! Scaramouche already has a full set here! 💕💕

Pierro is the strict father figure. What he says goes and will be obeyed without question. If he tells you to stay with one of the harbingers for the day then that’s where he expects to find you. When he gets to spend time with you himself though, he’s a lot softer and happy to do whatever activities you would like to

Capitano is like a second shadow. He doesn’t really interact with you face to face, preferring to stand nearby and watch over you like a guardian. The type of friend that scares off people who make you uncomfortable except 10x scarier

Columbina is the clingy best friend. She’s practically attached to your hip at all times and loves to drape herself over you at every opportunity. She gets super pouty when you pay more attention to others in her presence

Arlecchino is the doting older sister. She brushes your hair for you, she makes you breakfast, she escorts you if you’re going out anywhere. But she also likes to keep you on a strict routine and doesn’t take nicely to transgressions. It’s for your safety after all

Dottore is the scary cousin. The one you dread to spend time with because he’s always up to something and insists you help with his schemes. Sometimes he makes you sit and watch whilst he does autopsies on the recently deceased, and you could swear some of them look eerily familiar

Signora is the pampered friend. She likes to show you off by walking side by side with you. But not before she’s picked out what you’re wearing, and done your hair and makeup. She wants to be seen with you, but you have to match her standard. You have to show everyone why she’s the only one fit to stand at your side as your dearest friend

Pantalone is like your rich best friend that buys you whatever you desire. If you look at anything even a fraction of a second too long, Pantalone will have his wallet out before you can blink. He’s also definitely not above bribing people to stay away from you if he doesn’t like them hanging around

Sandrone is the smothering mum friend. She pampers you and loves to dress you up and just sit around with you. Doesn’t let you do anything yourself in fear of hurting yourself and insists on leaving everything to her puppets

Tartaglia is like the fun older brother. He already has experience looking after his younger siblings so you’ll be joining them. He likes to take you to fights to show off but won’t let you try incase you hurt yourself. He is fiercely over protective as well, anyone who dares to even look at you wrong can expect to be on the wrong end of his bow

The Tsaritsa is like an overprotective mother. She fears for your safety out in the big scary world, so she keeps you safe in the expanses of Snezhnaya where she and her trusted harbingers can watch over you