Plat Scara - Blog Posts

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

To the stranger I knew too well

Summary: When your recurrent dreams about a puppet become out of hand, a reality check feels like the only way to get back to normalcy. Fate proves you wrong.

Pairing: Wanderer & gn!reader (post Irminsul), the relationship is heavily implied to be platonic

Content warnings: Reader is gender neutral, mentions of blood and murders but I don't go into details, slight angst, Wanderer is bad with feelings, platonic content

Word count: 7.2k | Soulmate AU

Comments: A special thank to my beta @ladyfocalors for always brainrotting with me about Genshin characters. We'll platonify the Genshin soulmate AU one work at the time /lh

It took you years to understand that your frequent lucid dreams about an Inazuman electricity-wielder leader were actually the memories of your soulmate.

To your parents' defense, every normal individual would have dismissed the idea. While your soulmate wearing an extravagant hat wasn’t impossible, your tales about a place shrouded in darkness and an Electro-user without a Vision sounded like a child's fantasy. There was no such thing in Teyvat.

You quickly got the reputation of an imaginative kid. Adults liked to ask you about your dreams.

"What a smart child you are!", they cooed once you finished recalling your visions. "You could write a storybook!"

Your younger self would shoot them the dirtiest glare they could muster. Unfortunately, adding that the protagonist was a puppet made hundreds of years ago was not the convincing argument you thought it was. To the layperson, your visions were nonsensical dreams.

But you knew what you saw. It felt real. Terribly, shockingly real. Most often that not, you woke up from these flashes with the taste of iron in your mouth, static filling your sight, your muscles locked into place. You were trapped in your own unresponsive body. Even your breath was stuck in your throat. But the worst part of your awakenings was the sticky feeling on your hands. No matter how many times you scrubbed, it lingered on your skin. You didn't know what it was at that time, just that it made you feel gross and that it would sometimes reappear if you washed your hands hard enough.

You learnt what blood was before you knew how to spell the color red. 

When one is repeatedly told that they're wrong, they will come to believe it. You were no exception. As the years passed by, you pushed those fantasies in the back of your mind. The adults in your life must have been right. You were just a strange kid with gruesome dreams, that was all.

Despite knowing that they were figments of your vivid imagination, the sights of snow-covered plains and bloody massacres haunted you well into adulthood. They had grown more complex. Details you didn’t notice as a child seemed obvious now that you had more experience. You could also recall conversations better. That’s how you learnt the name of the body you inhabited. Well, it was more correct to say you learnt multiple names for them. Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche, the Balladeer... It was like you could never make up your mind.

The puppet you temporarily inhabited was as elusive as the wind: no fixed name to call them and no face to match. They fled mirrors when they saw one, preventing you from seeing their appearance. The only thing you knew about them was their title: number Sixth of the Fatui Harbinger. A seat that was left vacant for centuries according to every Fatuus you asked.

Your constant daydreaming was annoying but manageable until you started having visions about Kunikuzushi taking over Sumeru. You saw them getting experimented on to become one with a robot, wincing in pain at the hands of a masked doctor, rambling about their birth-given right to access godhood, taunting a blonde traveler; a chain of events that could only make sense in a dream. The problem was that your reverie was affecting your daily life. You couldn’t go through a day without getting assailed by memories that weren’t yours. You had to stop halfway through any task, discussing became hard and sleep rarely came to you.

There was little you could do as you didn’t know what had worsened your visions. You were hoping it would go away by itself.

That was until a particularly haunting dream. As usual, you were but a spectator seeing through the Balladeer’s eyes. You saw a hand -their hand- reach for a chess piece, leaning forward as much as they could. Your blood went cold. They were about to fall over the edge of the platform! Your gaze darted everywhere. There was nothing on the distant ground that would break their fall. For the first time in your life, you realized that they could die. Scaramouche, the one you had observed for decades, could die.

You were the only one to realize how far they were leaning. They only had eyes for the violet pawn in front of them, begging and begging with a shaky voice. It had never sounded so frail, so raw with hurt and panic.

"Please, anything but the Gnosis!" 

It’s not worth it! you tried to scream. Stop! You didn't know why this Gnosis was so important to them but it was nothing dying for. Alas, no matter how hard you tried to move your mouth, the body refused to answer to you. You were nothing but a witness of a tragic scene, a powerless ghost with a bleeding heart. Your throat was thick with emotions you were not allowed to express.

Your dream ended in a snap, quite literally. A tearing sound erupted from behind you before you were sent falling down, pain flaring in your back. You bit down a scream as the world turned to blurry shades of blue and fluttering black bangs. The increasing speed made your eyes water and your body burn. You clenched your teeth. The fall was inevitable. Maybe it made you a coward but you couldn't bear to see it. You didn’t want to see Kunikuzushi die. Muttering an apology to the stranger in your dreams, you squeezed your teary eyes shut. 

The last thing you heard was a wet crushing sound, a mix between eggshells broken under the palm of your hand and a fruit being squashed. Your body jolted in your bed and you gagged, fighting the urge to throw up. You had never felt this sick. Not even when you dreamt of unfair massacres.

You sank to the floor, furiously wiping away the tears beading in the corner of your eyes. You couldn't do it anymore. You had to confront your dreaming problem. There was only one solution: if your brain was so adamant on obsessing over an imaginary character, you had to show it the harsh reality, to remind yourself that Kabukimono never existed.

Your trip to Sumeru was the most spontaneous project you ever planned. You were strolling through the busy streets of Sumeru city the very next day with barely enough money to get back to your nation. You had packed the bare minimum in your suitcase to carry it easily, meaning you wouldn’t be able to stay for more than just a few days.

That was, if you found a room for the night. You had no time to check what the usual prices were in the capital before leaving. Now that you were scouring the streets with your meager funds, unable to find a hotel within your budget, you were bitterly regretting your lack of foresight. You sighed. You supposed that the saying was right. Slow and steady wins the race.

As if it had felt your determination dwindling, the crushing sound echoed in your mind in response. You bit your lip, bile rising in your throat. You hadn't been able to forget about your last dream. It looped in your head like a broken record. Even if impulsively leaving your country was one of your worst ideas ever, the quicker you settled your daydream problem the sooner you'd be back to your normal life. 

Your weary steps lead you to an indoor bazaar. The smell of fried food filled your nostrils, making your stomach growl. You winced. The small homemade sandwich you had earlier couldn't compete with the appeal of street food. Unfortunately you needed to save your funds for a room. You let your gaze wander in the crowded marketplace, trying to distract yourself from the appetizing smell. Colorful stalls were full of fresh fruits, potted flowers and intricate trinkets. If you stood on your toes, you could even see a small theater representation in the farthest part of the bazaar. It was a lively place that perfectly encapsulated Sumeru’s charm.

You were about to turn back when your eyes stopped on a blue silhouette near a candy stand. You didn't know how you missed them earlier. In the brown and green crowd, their traditional clothing and their ornamented Inazuman hat stuck out like a sore thumb. They were in deep discussion with the merchant. Turquoise fabric trailed behind them, floating in the wind.

Without a second thought, you cut through the crowd, never leaving the stranger from your sight. Your heart leaped in your chest when they left the small stall. 

"Hey, you with the hat! Stop!" you yelled. To your dismay, the Inazuman did not even slow down. They must have been too far to hear you. Breaking into a sprint, you called again. "Hat guy!" 

You breached the distance in a few seconds. Just as you were about to grab their shoulder, they turned around. A cold hand snatched your wrist, making you wince. When you looked at its owner, you were greeted with a deep scowl and narrowed indigo eyes. 

"Don't." The man’s low voice warned you, his tone full of unspoken threats. You swallowed uncomfortably as your confidence melted away. He managed to be intimidating in spite petite stature and youthful appearance.

As he glared daggers at you, you were hit by a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You pressed your lips together, studying his messy black mullet and his glowing Anemo Vision. The word popped up in your head. Familiar. The stranger felt familiar.

Wiping the feeling of déjà-vu from your mind, you retreated your hand. "Sorry, I was just trying to get your attention." 

"Well, now you have it," he huffed. Annoyance was written on his face. He crossed his arms. "What do you want?" 

A good question, but not one you had an answer to. Running after the man was a spur of the moment decision.

Self-awareness striked you like a thunderbolt. Why were you even doing this? Your goal was to cure your daydreaming, not to throw yourself headfirst into the rabbit hole nor to annoy a stranger with the tales of an imaginary character.

He clicked his tongue. "Hurry. I don't have all day." 

You huffed. It was true that you were taking too much time to gather your thoughts but he didn’t have to be rude about it. 

"I'm looking for someone,” you said tentatively. It was the closest you could get from the truth without annoying him. Considering his foul mood, the stranger would have walked away if you told him you were looking for the lack of existence of Kunikuzushi, the Sixth Harbinger, the person who tried to become an Archon, someone that only existed in your mind.

The man didn't answer, encouraging you to continue with a movement on the head. His black bangs flew in the light breeze. Now that you had a clearer view of his face, the man seemed more bored than irritated. He wanted the conversation to be over with but he still had the patience to hear you out. This realization gave you the courage you needed to talk again. 

"Their clothes are quite similar to yours, but they're red and black. They also have a hat. A huge one." You opened your arms in emphasis.

He scrunched his brows together, looking at you like you were an idiot. "Right. Because the length of their hat is the most important detail you could give me," he deadpanned. 

You fight the urge to sigh. "I wasn't done. I don't know much about them, but they're linked to the Fatui." The stranger's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He was back to glaring at you, his face closed. Unsettled by this sudden tension, you quickly added. "Probably. I'm still not sure about that." There was no Sixth Fatui Harbinger, after all. Your brain had made it up. 

"Of course." His voice was drier than earlier. What little interest he had in your discussion had melted at the mention of the Fatui. You scrunched your brows. You swore you could read another emotion than ire in his eyes, even if you didn’t know what. "Anything else I should know about that... Friend of yours?"

You racked your brain for more details. There was a lot to say about the person in your dream. Their lack of heart, their coup attempt in Sumeru, their bloody killings, the experimentations they underwent... Nothing you could talk about in public without looking crazy, in sum. The only thing you could still mention was... 

"Their name is Scaramouche."

The man went rigid. "What did you say?" he gawked, his eyes wide with shock.

"Scaramouche. I think that's their name?" Truthfully, they were given so many names that it probably wasn't their real one. But it was the one that came up most in your dreams. 

As if it caught onto the tense atmosphere, the wind abruptly stopped blowing. You barely noticed it, focused on the horror shining in the man's eyes. He couldn't believe what you had just said. His piercing eyes analyzed every inch of you with a newfound distrust. 

“Nobody should be able to-” He interrupted himself with a gasp. Recognition flashed across his face. "Wait. You...!"

His face went from surprise to disgust in the blink of an eye. You had barely the time to react before he pulled his hat down over his head, his scowl peeking from behind the rim.

"Of course fate would string something like this..." He let out a bitter laugh. "Has it ever made anything easy for me?"

You watched as crossed his arms, lifting his head to glare at you as if you had purposely wronged him. You tried to appease him by apologizing. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?"

Despite your question, you knew you had done nothing worth this cold attitude. You didn’t know why he was overreacting, why he was looking at you like dirt under his soles.  It’s as if he was personally offended by your description of the Balladeer. You blinked as pieces fell into place. An Inazuman with a strange hat and dark hair, just like the one you were looking for. Could it be…?

"Is that you? Are you Scaram—" 

The man turned around before you could finish your sentence, the blue fabric tied to his hat smacking you in the face. You yelped in pain.

"Don’t use this name." You couldn't see what kind of expression he was making but his flat tone told you enough.

You were standing in front of the protagonist of your dreams.

Reality shattered around you. There were only two reasons for your dreams to be visions of the past. You either were a seer —which was unlikely considering you had no elemental affinity— or you were using your soulmate link. Realization sank in. You had a soulmate. Everything finally clicked together: why you had Scaramouche's memories, why he recognized you, why you never stopped having those dreams… It was because the universe had deemed you a perfect fit.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. You were not an anomaly without a soulmate, like you were led to believe. You just didn't pay attention to the signs.

"Wait a minute," you gasped. No matter how happy you were about your discovery, it came a lot of terrible implications. "Does it mean that everything is real? The Fatui, the taking over Sumeru part, everything ?" 

Kunikuzushi immediately clammed up. Not even bothering to look at you, he said without a trace of emotion. "This conversation is over."

Strong wind currents flared all around you with him acting as the epicenter of the small storm he invoked. You stared at him with wide eyes. He was getting away! 

"Please!"

You grabbed his sleeve and tugged hard, adrenaline pumping through your veins. The man gave you the dirtiest glare from above his shoulder as the miniature hurricane intensified. But you didn't let him go. You sank your nails deeper into his arm.

"Listen to me!” you said through gritted teeth. “I'm not gonna pretend I know everything about you because that's not true. I only know glimpses of you. Parts of your past that don't make any sense." 

You closed your eyes as the memories flooded your mind. The Gnosis, the laboratory, the crushing sound as he fell down... You didn't understand what those events meant to him. What kind of story they told. It was like you were in front of an incomplete puzzle where all edge pieces went missing. It was impossible to get the big picture no matter how many combinations you tried.

That didn’t mean the little bits of memories you had taught you nothing about him.

"You were hurt. That much is certain."

Your words only rekindled the fire of his ire. He bared his teeth at you. “Huh?! Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” He stabbed your chest with his finger, forcing you to take a step back. “Seeing glimpses of my past doesn’t give you the right to assume things about me, you worm.”

"But it’s not an assumption. You lived a very long and lonely life. A bloody one too.” You briefly wondered if contrary to you, he had grown accustomed to seeing his hands covered in crimson. You let out a shaky exhale. “But you cannot talk about your life to anyone. No one would believe you if you talked about the Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui or what you were doing centuries ago."

You had the experience to back yourself up. You still weren't sure what the Fatui thing was all about but if you could barely believe it after seeing his memories firsthand, no one else could.

"See, you’re just assuming things again out of pity," Scaramouche snapped. He tore himself from your grasp, sneering. "Guess what? I don't need you to feel sorry about me."

You shook your head. "I wasn't about to."

You were never going to forget the feeling of blood on your hands, the crackling of electricity as you saw someone charred alive, the coolness of a cadaver against your skin. You couldn't bring yourself to feel sorry for this man. It wasn't what someone like him sought. 

Pity was for those forced to live under the ruling of unfairness, not able to object to its cruel laws. Forgiveness was for those that were mothered by this tyrant and dedicated their life to preach its teachings. For now, the Balladeer deserved none of them.

When you opened your eyes, Scaramouche had tipped his hat down, obscuring his expression. His grip on his crossed arms was so tight you thought he was going to break his fingers. 

"You don't understand. You can't understand."

His voice was lower than earlier, almost like a growl. 

It wasn't enough to scare you.

"You're right," you admitted. "I cannot understand you. But I really want to." 

Maybe it was because you knew him on a deeper level than a stranger, but something had changed. You were starting to notice it. The hurt he masked behind a veil of fury. Until his words, you thought he was just an eternally angry man, bitter at the world and at his fate. Now, you wondered if he was just someone who lived through too much. Someone who was ready to beg and kill himself for a glimpse of a better future.

He snorted, disbelief written across his face. “A human like you, understanding someone like me? Don’t make me laugh.” He leaned towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back, withholding his stare with all of the courage you could summon. His mouth contorted into a twisted smile. “You’ve seen what I am capable of. Not only are you fundamentally unable to relate to a fraction of my existence, you’re also unable to withstand it. Understanding me will only bring you trouble.”

“You already do.” Scaramouche didn't utter a word, turning his back to you. You didn't let it get to you, instead squeezing your hand against your chest. "I spent my life stuck with visions I couldn't control. Seeing your memories at random moments robbed me from precious moments with the people I love. From enjoying a normal life, one where I don’t have to fear falling asleep."

Your hands were shaking. Whether from anger or sorrow, you didn’t know. Scaramouche was the one assuming things. You may only be a human, one similar to thousands that have come before you, but you knew how it felt to be misunderstood. How it felt not to belong. Nobody had believed you for decades, nor understood why you were so uncomfortable when it came to sleeping. Even your friends couldn’t wrap their heads about your constant worry of getting lost in the daydreaming. You might as well have been from a different species.

You took a deep exhale. Your anger faded away as quickly as it came. "I feel close to you, no matter how strange it sounds. You've always been a small part of me.” Determination seeped through your tone. “So I won't be able to move on as long as I don't know what's going on with my soulmate."

Soulmate. The word rolled strangely on your tongue. It was the first time you were saying it out loud.

Scaramouche gagged at your word choice. "I'm not looking for a lover." Disgust laced his voice. Seems like you were not the only one who felt weird about the whole situation. 

You shook his concern with a wave of the hand. "Me neither. I'm looking for an explanation. A timeline in a chronological order, if possible." 

Your attempt at a joke fell flat as silence fell between the two of us. Your face shifted into a frown. Had you been too insistent? 

"It's alright if you find the situation strange," you said, trying to save the conversation. "I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that you saw glimpses of my life. This is quite embarrassing...."

You didn't have the most exciting life but there were private moments you wanted nobody to see. Especially not your soulmate. 

He shot you an uninterested look, examining the dirt beneath his nails. "I could not care less about your mundane life."

You blinked. You didn't expect him to get interested in your life as much as you were in his, but was that supposed to be comforting? Unsure how to respond, your face contorted into a polite smile.

None of you said a word after that. You didn't dare move either. Weariness taking over you, you watched as the back of his hair fluttered in the breeze, joining the hypnotizing dance of the blue ribbons. The sound of animated conversations and the ringing of distant bells filled the otherwise tense silence.

You were about to leave when Scaramouche let out the heaviest sigh known to mankind. He finally turned to you, uttering a single word. 

"Wanderer."

Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn't that. "Come again?" 

He rolled his eyes but repeated it anyway. "Wanderer. That’s my name. Not Scaramouche or whatever name you heard in my memories." 

You felt your entire face lit up. You could recognize an olive branch when you saw one. "I won't call you anything else, I promise!"

He sighed at your sudden excitement, shaking his head. You were starting to recognize when he was truly irritated and when he was acting annoyed by habit. This time, the look in his eyes didn't match his bored pout. It was not soft by any means, but he did not glare daggers at you anymore.

"I still don’t think someone like you can handle the tale of centuries of existence.” He clicked his tongue. “That being said, I suppose it would be entertaining to see you try. Come to the entrance of Sumeru city in two hours."

Your eyes widened. You thought that you wouldn’t get more than his name, and now he gave you the opportunity to explain his life ? You had half the mind to pinch yourself awake.

"Don't be late Wanderer!" 

He scoffed, readjusting the position of his ginormous hat. “If I were, you'd scream my name in the streets of Sumeru until you get ahold of me. No thanks."

"I wouldn't do that!"

"Oh, really?" A smug smirk took place on his lips. He cleared his throat before taking a high-pitched voice. " 'Hey, you with the hat, stop right there ! I really want to talk to you! Stop, I say !' "

You gasped in shock. "So you actually heard me! Do you not stop when someone calls you?"

"I do. I just don't typically talk to pipsqueaks."

His grin deepened at seeing your offended expression. He even let out a short laugh. You playfully punched the cheeky bastard on the shoulder, not putting much force in the blow. 

Wanderer didn't budge. He instead grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from him. His eyebrows were pinched together in irritation. "Don’t think you can punch me and get out unscathed, kid."

Despite his words, his grasp on you was light, as if he was careful not to hurt you. It was easy to slip from his hold. He was entertaining you, you realized. Considering how harsh he had been when you first had tried to touch him, a light scold was nothing. 

Mimicking a fighting stance, you started shifting your weight from left to right.

"You're the one who's gonna bite the dust! I can knock out someone with a single blow!" You punched the air to demonstrate, a smile blooming on your face. "I can take anyone in a fight!" 

Wanderer pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated by your playful attitude. "Celestia above, not another Childe..."

You pouted at his words. "Are you calling me a child again? I'll let you know that I'm a fully-fledged adult!" You may not be as old as the immortal puppet but you were no kid by human standards. You were only teasing Wanderer because you needed something light after your heavy talk. He couldn’t base his whole perception of you on a speech stemming from your sleep-deprived self…

He clicked his tongue in his mouth before looking at you directly in the eyes. "You talk big for someone I've seen fall in the stairs several times."

Horror washed over you. Every little embarrassing moment you lived flooded your mind. The fact that Wanderer had seen some of them sent warmth pooling in your cheeks. 

"You said you didn't care about my life!" you said, absolutely mortified. 

"It doesn't mean watching you was not mildly entertaining. Why would I focus on boring Fatui politics talk when I could be the witness to the mess of your teenage years?” Your expression was decomposing by the second, to his delight. "I especially liked it when—"

You cut him off with a nervous laugh. "Alright, alright, I get it. Aren't you busy?" 

His gaze fell into a small pouch at his sides. "I do, actually. Buer must be looking for me."

"Buer? Who's that?" You didn't remember hearing this name in his memories.

"The Dendro Archon," he said like it was the most obvious thing on Teyvat. 

"...Right. Of course.”

Maybe you were a bit too optimistic about his ability to open up to you.

Wanderer couldn't believe himself. Three betrayals should have been enough to teach him that closeness only brought pain. Whether because of misunderstandings, lies or the unpredictable and unescapable scythe of Death, the ending was always the same: he was fated to end up hurt. Alone. Cursing himself for loving too much.

He snorted. He knew all of that and yet here he was, wrapping his job up before his meeting with you. How pathetic.

Part of him was not surprised about this new twist of events. Fate liked to throw him in the most ironic situations. He was currently going on errands for Buer, the same Archon he had tried to supplant her months ago and who took him prisoner. Randomly meeting his soulmate in the middle of the streets was not the most unexpected thing to have happened to him. Far from it. At that point, he was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier.

When Wanderer entered the sanctuary of Surasthana, the Archon was sitting on her swing, humming to herself. The melancholic tune didn’t sound familiar but the lyrics in old Sumerian sang the tale of a love long gone. If he rolled his eyes at the song choice, he was polite enough to wait until the end of the song before clearing his throat.

Buer perked up, finally noticing him. She jumped from the swing and greeted him with a small wave.

"Hat guy!" He cocked an eyebrow at the oh so creative sobriquet, making her giggle. "I’m glad to see you. I was starting to think that you had forgotten about me."

"As if my memory would get faulty. I was held up by someone." Holding his hat to pin it into place, he sat on the lush grass. Reunions with Buer always took a while. He might as well make himself comfortable. 

Familiar curious green eyes landed on him. "Was it a friend from the Akademiya?"

He rolled his eyes. "I had never seen them before."

He had expected this flow of questions. Buer was very invested in his relationships with other people– well, rather his lack of. She had made him participate in social events like the Interdarshan championship to socialize. She even enrolled him in the Akademiya. Her argument was that it would help him understand humanity better, as well as himself. 

The results were arguably mixed. Wanderer admittedly tolerated people a bit better than before. They were predictable creatures but they could be entertaining. Sometimes. On the other hand, he had not grown close to anyone since he started attending classes. Sure, some students followed him around, gushing about the mysterious “hat guy” and throwing a birthday party for him, but he would not call them friends. They were classmates at most. It was for the best: it didn’t matter if Buer claimed he was progressing regarding socialization, talking to him was an experience he wished on no one.

She didn’t seem to agree with him. Excitement and pride shone in her eyes. "Every stranger is a friend in potentiality. That is what makes new meetings so exciting: you might be talking to your new favorite person in Teyvat," she beamed, taking place near him. 

"If you say so." 

Friendship was a human concept. Something he could neither fully understand or get. Melodramatic speeches and lengthy explanations meant nothing to him. That is why Wanderer didn’t try to counter her argument. There was no point in talking about something he knew nothing about.

What he did know was that Buer was wrong. You were no stranger to him.

His gaze fell to his hands. The first time he had seen your memories, Scaramouche had thought he was defective. He had never been able to dream until then. His creator didn’t see the interest in allowing him to do so. The only reason he knew what dreams were was because Niwa liked to recount his when they worked together in the forge. 

One second he was lying down in the laboratory of the Fatui, the other he was in a small bed. Piles of toys were scattered around him, decorating what seemed to be a child’s bedroom. Why on Teyvat was he here? Scaramouche tried to move his arm but it did not move an inch. He cursed under his breath. For some reason, his body refused to listen to him. If it was Il Dottore’s scheme, the man was dead.

Without a warning, his head turned. He was greeted by the reflection of a small child in the mirror of the wardrobe. You.

His mind had been pure madness when he had come back to his senses. He had the time to zap five machines before the Doctor arrived, complaining that his research was being destroyed. The Tsaritsa, the stars, fate itself... He had cursed everything he could think of for giving him a soulmate. There was no other reason behind his sudden ability to “dream”. Fate had decided to intertwine your destinies together. The thought only made him more angry.

He couldn't be mad at the child you were, though. You were barely five. No matter how much of an unfeeling person he was, Scaramouche was not about to hold the situation against someone as young as you. A small part of him, one he had tried to bury for centuries, had even ached to hold your chubby hands in his when he had seen you reach for your reflection.

With the impossibility of breaking a soulmate bond, the Fatui Harbinger had been forced to watch you as you grew. He learnt about your favorite color, the school subject you liked best, the names of your childhood friends, the color of your bedroom, all the details of your ordinary life. He was a spectator to mundane moments, to victories and horrific failures alike.

You had transformed from a kid with shining eyes to a determined adult before his eyes.

If Buer was right and that all friends started as strangers, it meant that you would never be able to grow close to him. You already knew him.

Wanderer plucked a few strands of grass, watching how they fell to the ground. No, hoping for you two to be friends was wishful thinking. You had seen the atrocities he had done as a Fatui Harbinger. Once he filled the gap in your knowledge, you would not want anything to do with him. His erasure from existence didn’t excuse the actions of his past life.

He would not blame you. He deserved your hate. At the end of the day you were another name on the endless list of his victims. Because of your soulmate link, you had lived your entire life plagued by visions you didn't understand, othered because of things out of your control. You were the proof that Wanderer brought suffering just by existing. That he wasn't a fundamentally good person, like the one Buer and Traveler insisted he was. You had every right to loathe him.

That was why he accepted your offer. If he explained everything to you, if he confirmed that every "dream" of yours was true, you would move on. You would forgive Fate for giving you such an unloving person as a soulmate. Maybe you would even want to settle down with someone else... At the end of the day, you'd be free from the chain of destiny. So would he.

The world would let him do a good thing, for a change. 

"While it's true that talking it out will appease both of your minds, you shouldn't only see them as a way to atone for the sins of your past life," Buer intervened. 

Wanderer gave her an unimpressed look, throwing away the rest of the grass strands. "One day, you will have to answer for all of those breaches of privacy before the General Mahamatra."

"Talking about your thoughts with someone else can help you sort them out and gain new insight. I felt like you could benefit from it."

Her growing smile told him that she didn't feel sorry for reading his mind without his consent. He huffed. She was lucky he had grown accustomed to this habit of hers.

She hummed as she stepped in front of him. "Agreeing to a meeting to ease your guilty conscience is not a bad thing in itself. The problem is that you’re assuming that they can only hate you."

“What other reaction could they have?” The answer appeared in his mind before he finished his sentence. “Pity?” Pronouncing the word made his insides hurl. Wanderer would rather feel your wrath than your pity. The former didn’t feel as disgusting as the other;

Buer shook her head. “That’s not it either. It’s alright if you don’t yet understand Wanderer, you will see in due time.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He preferred it when she used complex metaphors. At least he had the opportunity to understand what was going on in her mind, contrary to when she used vague words of wisdom like a drowsy prophet.

"If I can give you one more piece of advice, you should give this relationship a chance." Seeing his scowl of disgust, she explained herself. "I'm not telling you to pursue a romance with them. Just don't assume that tonight is the only time you meet. Keep your mind and your heart open."

Despite her smile, she had a serious look in her eyes. It was the face of wisdom in all of its assured glory. Wanderer closed his eyes. It was easy for him to forget she was not a young child, like the one he took care of all those centuries ago. 

"There is a reason why they're your soulmate," Buer said. "Don't you want to discover why?" 

"Someone like them has nothing in common with me." 

Your memories told the tale of a simple life. In an ideal world, a normal person like you wouldn't have been paired up with him. How it happened in this one was a mystery. If he was inclined to pity others, Wanderer would feel bad for you. Being his soulmate only brought you experiences that you couldn’t talk about to anyone.

“You cannot talk about your life to anyone. No one would believe you if you talked about the Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui or what you were doing centuries ago.” Their hands shook as they lifted their head to meet his gaze. He stilled. He had expected to read loneliness and fire in their eyes. He only found the glow of loneliness. It was the same he had seen in your reflection all those years ago.

Wanderer hid his face behind his hand. He supposed he was wrong. He could see a few ressemblances between you and him. That didn’t necessarily mean you would become friends.

"Don't expect too much from this meeting. I only plan on retelling my story, not on learning more about them."

Gentle hands covered his, pulling them away from his face before lightly squeezing them.

“You don’t need to. You already know them better than anyone else.” Buer's voice was as soft as her expression.

He opened his mouth but no snarky counter-argument came to his mind. From what little insight Wanderer had gained on friendship over the course of his life, sharing experiences with a potential friend wasn’t enough. You also had to learn about the other person's personality, their taste, the little things they did… Such a process was too much work for a relationship that would eventually decay. But the man already knew you, more intimately than any person ever would.

If to be friends was to learn about someone, he had become yours a long time ago.

Wanderer fought the urge to shield his face behind his hat. It would be as good as admitting to Buer her words had struck a chord. No way he would embarrass himself like that.

“You're not going to give up, are you?" he sighed.

“While I do hope you will form a bond with them, I will not hold it against you if it doesn’t happen.” She took some time to think, trying to come up with a convincing imagery. “Fate is a tricky concept. It steers you in a specific direction but it cannot force you to follow it. No matter what, you can always make your own way.”

He let the words sink in as he laid down on the cool grass. From the Sanctuary, he could hear the entire city’s hustle and bustle. The sound of the streets mixed with the chirping of the birds and the rustle of the wind through the branches.

He felt Buer sitting next to him. Her voice interrupted his quiet reverie, sounding cheekier than usual.

"Don't I deserve something in return for my good advice?"

Her eyes were focused on the small pouch hanging at his side.  He had forgotten about it, their conversation had distracted him. Wanderer shook his head in defeat. The Archon didn’t need to use her mind-reading powers to know about the actions of her subjects. 

“If you want to be paid for giving lectures, you should think about becoming a teacher at the Akademiya.”

“I would deprive someone from the joy of educating young minds.”

His lips curled into a grin. “Right. Poor them.”

Feeling her gaze on him, he relented. He unclipped the package from his belt and gave it to her, not bothering to sit back up. Buer tried to open it carefully. It was so full that in spite of her efforts, morsels of candied Ajilenakh nuts spilled on the ground.

Wanderer frowned at the sight of the mess. Something churned inside him. If he had known it would be wasted, he wouldn’t have bought so much food.

“Be more careful,” he chastised her. “It’s expensive.”

Buer shot him a perplexed look. He scoffed in response, averting his gaze. 

"I didn't buy them. The merchant gave free samples to bystanders and he couldn't take no for an answer."

Another white lie from him. He had noticed that Buer didn't have much candy left and since he had to go to the Bazaar anyway, he had decided to buy some. He watched as she inspected a piece of candy, rolling it between her fingers. He didn't get why she was head over heels for those disgustingly sweet nuts but he had to keep her in good spirits. Otherwise, she might decide to lock him back in his cell. That and seeing her smile so much sent warmth running in his chest. 

Her eyes crinkled, amused. "A free sample? How nice," she said, popping one of the delicacies in her mouth. He supposed there was no fooling the Archon of Knowledge. She pointed at him. "Your friend hasn't had the opportunity to try food from Sumeru, have they? You could bring them to Lambad’s and keep some of the Ajilenakh nuts to snack on."

“We have other things to do than distract ourselves with culinary tourism.”

“It’s not a distraction! See it as a bonding experience that will allow you to grow closer.”

He arched a brow, unimpressed. “As if I needed something like this to become their friend.”

He stopped after his own sentence. He blinked, not believing what he had just said.

Wanderer didn't know how he ended up in this situation. Truly. He was never one to let Fate decide for him. He defied it at each opportunity, fighting with all he had. This shouldn't have been any different. He was a traveler, an outcast, an outsider. He had no use for a soulmate– a lover. Especially not a human one, one that would be gone in a blink of his immortal life. 

He had no use for a lover, but he supposed that if he had to befriend a single person in the world, it may as well be you.

If you liked this work, please reblog and leave a comment or an ask!

Bonjour

I'm back mootie🗣️🗣️

Could I request something w Scaramouche (in his Harbinger era) with an adopted kid (somewhere around 5 or 6 years old if possible)

I'm gonna be specific, so the ask could get a bit long, sorry😔

So he adopted the kid when he hadn't joined the Fatui yet (maybe before the betrayals? But could be after too) and he noticed the kid never aged, they were just stuck as a little child, both physically and mentally

But the kid could die if they got seriously hurt, so he never lets them wander off because he doesn't want them to run into danger and get crushed by a ruin guard or something like that

But one day he had to leave the kid alone, so they were left unsupervised in whatever place the Fatui stay in

And while they explored the place (since they never got to explore much) a random Fatui agent found them

Let's say that agent is a really bad person, the agent decides to hurt the kid because he assumed they were trespassing

Then the agent tosses the kid outside whatever place the Fatui stay in and leaves them there

The kid was too hurt to actually get up and get help (I don't think little kids would do well in these situations anyway) so they just accepted it and waited for something to happen

Cue Scaramouche finding the kid after searching (I think he'd find them quickly) and he's both worried and pissed (worried cuz his kid got hurt and pissed cuz someone did that to them)

The kid is too scared to say who hurt them so Scaramouche takes matter into his own hands

He finds out who hurt his kid and kills the dude (or does something else you can decide what)

And then everything goes back to normal (but Scaramouche is even more reluctant to let the kid wander alone after that incident)

If this is too much you don't have to write it!!

Take your time and take care of yourself too mootie‼️

Au revoir

Puppets

pairing: Platonic!Scaramouche x child!GNReader – wc: 2,1k – tw: bruises, child abuse (?) – a/n: HI MOOTIE!! It's been a bit of time since you sent me this ask sorry for the late reply 😞. I hope you can enjoy this <3 – reblogs and comments are appreciated!! – @gayestsillybilly

Dreams; small figments of consciousness existing inside one's unconscious state. A puppet wasn't supposed to sleep, let alone have dreams. However, when Scaramouche closes his eyes, it's as if the entire weight of his existence is lifted from his shoulders. For him, this is just further proof of his most unfortunate flaw.

There were few nights in which he would actually fall asleep; the vast majority of his dreams consisted of little memories of his time in Tatarasuna, scattered like little pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. And while Scaramouche was in the realm of dreams, a little one kept an eye on him.

His sleep was soon interrupted by hands that touched his face, poking his cheek and wiping away a small tear that had unconsciously fallen. Hands that resembled wood, but with a sort of human softness that disguised their artificial nature.

Underneath the fearful gaze, was a secret The Balladeer kept from the rest of the Fatui: the existence of a little puppet that followed him around like a baby duck following its mommy. A puppet whose intellect never evolved beyond the knowledge of a six-year-old, thus making them more of a conscious doll. And that doll was no one but [Name] themselves.

And so Scaramouche decided to get up and make some hot cocoa, like he used to prepare for them every time he was in Snezhnaya with them. It was a simple drink, yet their favorite one in this unforgiving cold.

“What are your dreams about?”

With a small sigh, he tried to look away so as to not answer [Name]’s questions. Curiosity once killed the cat, and he was damn sure that the same would happen to them one day.

“Nothing you should worry about.”

“And who said I'm worrying about you?” their tone was nonchalant; and even though he knew it wasn't ill intended, that was too straightforward.

“Oh.”

[Name] smiled at him before putting their small cup of hot cocoa away. A puppet didn't need to eat to survive, and Scaramouche couldn't understand why they enjoyed eating and drinking the same things almost everyday. Did they really need such a routine?

“You probably already know, but I'm—”

“Going on a trip again.”

They were being so nonchalant today that it made Scaramouche a bit surprised, despite his expression not having changed a bit from its usual neutral complexion. [Name] wasn’t like that, so there was definitely something wrong with them.

“You’re not usually like this, huh?” He raised an eyebrow before kneeling to reach their level.

“I don't know… I don't have a good feeling about you going away this time.”

Scaramouche sat down by their side, fixing his hair before placing his signature hat on. He wanted to find something to tell [Name] to try to relieve their fears, yet couldn’t think of anything motivating and just put his hand on their hair; he had done it many times for it to get repetitive, but this was the only type of affection he knew to comfort them.

‘Okay, I’m ready…’

[Name] finished packing the little stuff they had, mostly trinkets given by Scaramouche. Some stuff like a mask from Inazuma, a flower music box from Fontaine and a Snezhnayan doll. Scaramouche wouldn’t take them with him, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t sneak in his adventure. He would scold them, yet there wasn’t anything he could do about it when they’re already there.

“What are you doing?”

Scaramouche appeared behind them, making [Name] try to hide the bag by throwing it somewhere in the snow.

“Nothing!” They gave Scaramouche a “good kid” smile, hiding completely their mischievous plan from him.

“You already know the safety rules, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know. ‘Don’t go too far, [Name]!’ and ‘don’t go near people with masks’ and stuff like that…”

He couldn't help but cross his arms in response to their tone. Deep inside, Scaramouche knew he was being a bit too overprotective; yet he didn't want to lose them like he lost the others, though [Name] was immortal just like him and there was no way he would be left alone as the time passed by.

But deep inside of him, a small sparkle of fear was enough to justify his dread. And along with this fear, came the need to protect them. So as long as he lived, [Name] would be safe and happy.

“Exactly. So just stay here and wait until I come back.”

[Name] was already used to being alone as he went on errands for the Tsaritsa, but they always missed him a lot. Though they knew he would just come back as he always did, something was bothering them.

He couldn't take them with him, not when his hands would be dirty with someone's blood; that would only make the only source of kindness left for Scaramouche afraid of him. Having [Name] openly next to him just increased drastically the chance of running into The Doctor along the way. They were the only secret he made sure that no one else knew about — especially Dottore; his worst nightmare is having [Name] end up in The Doctor’s lab.

“Then you'll have to bring me sweets,” they grinned while hugging his leg.

“We'll see how it goes.”

He gave them a weak smile, a rare sight reserved specially for them and no one else. If anyone else saw the Sixth with a genuine smile like that, chances are that they would be found dead by the next day.

His fingers tenderly caressed their head in a comforting manner. Scaramouche didn't want them to feel sad about his departure – though he knew they were already used to being left alone – since he would eventually come back to them.

Scaramouche had passed through three betrayals and, deep inside, he knew they would mark their fourth soon or later. However, he couldn't gather the courage nor the will to abandon them before being abandoned first.

“Can…”

He looked back at [Name] before removing his hand from their head, waiting for what they were going to say.

“C-can you give me a hug before going?”

Their arms tightened around his leg, not letting go of him anytime soon; at least not before he attended to their request. Their actions certainly caught his attention, since they rarely asked for anything other than candies or trinkets from whatever corner of Teyvat he went to.

“...”

Scaramouche looked at them, then elsewhere, and finally decided to take action by kneeling down to hug them. His hugs were uncomfortable since he was not the best at giving them; his hand wrapped around them carefully as he sighed. It didn’t last long, as he soon separated and turned around.

“Goodbye.”

That was what he said before going away, leaving [Name] standing in the snow. But it wouldn’t stay like this, since they would follow him again.

[Name] took their bag, cleaning the snow out of it, and went on their adventure. They hid in the woods before sneaking in a small boat Scaramouche had entered; they didn’t know where it would lead to, and after hours of traveling, the ship arrived somewhere. It didn’t look as if they had reached their final destination, so a camp was going to be built.

‘Hehe, I did it…’

They left after everyone else and put their feet in something that wasn’t snow for the first time. [Name] couldn’t help the big smile plastered on their face, they were too overjoyed to. And their eyes scanned around to look for Scaramouche, but didn’t see anyone.

“Is this what they call green gra—”

“You.”

A deep voice called from behind them, a fatui soldier carrying a gun was what they saw when turning around. A person with a mask, just like Scaramouche had alerted them to be careful of. And like any kid in their situation, [Name] tried to run away only to be grabbed by the hair.

“What are you doing here? This isn't a place for kids.”

They couldn’t see his eyes, but the anger coming from the man made [Name] shiver. A new emotion ran through their veins; was it fear? Dread? No, it was pure horror. And as if analyzing them closely, the soldier quickly lost patience and just threw them away like a sack of potatoes, making [Name] hit a tree very hard.

“Go away before things get worse to you.” He didn’t even look at them before going back to his spot, watching around to see if there was anyone else there.

As [Name] stood up, they noticed something terrible. They thought it was over until they felt something, something missing. Their left arm was lying on the ground; they weren’t just hurt, they were broken.

And in panic, they took their severed arm and ran away into the forest, not caring about anything else around them. Their face was full of tears, making [Name]’s vision blurry as they rushed and tripped on a few stones and roots; But they were too desperate to even trip.

Suddenly, [Name] bumped on something, or someone. As they looked up, they saw a familiar face: Scaramouche! They had finally found him, and he was definitely going to protect them.

As for Scaramouche, his eyes widened when he saw them. His jaw dropped when he saw them holding their arm. “What the hell are you doing here!?”

They flinched at his question, looking down. [Name] was embarrassed from having disobeyed him and ending up like this; but Scaramouche wasn’t mad at them.

He told them to wait for him where they were before going back to get something he could use to heal that terrible wound. And they waited, already having stopped crying.

“Tell me, who the hell hurt you?”

He stared deeply in their eyes, almost begging for an immediate answer from [Name]. But only sobs left the child's mouth as they held their broken arm.

"I'm broken now? Do I have to be thrown away?!”

[Name]’s voice carried a desperate tone that made Scaramouche look down, he couldn’t help the visible frown on his face as he pondered about the options he had. He himself didn't know what to do now; despite being puppets, the two of them had different compositions. What repairs him wouldn't repair them.

The only person Scaramouche knew that had the capacity of fixing [Name] was…

‘The Doctor…’

He pushed the thoughts aside and bandaged their arm, making sure to connect the forearm to the rest with a piece of wood that would be used for the campfire that night. It wasn’t going to magically heal itself, but at least they [Name] wouldn't have to carry a severed arm around.

“You won't be thrown away. Don't even think about it.”

Scaramouche then placed a hand on their shoulder and looked them dead in the eye, making sure they would understand what he was about to say. The silence between the two of them was agonizing; he was waiting for [Name] to say something, anything, that would allow him to make a decision between staying here to coddle them — not that he had much experience at coddling crying children — or going after the culprit and beating the shit out of them.

“But you need to help me here and tell me who did this to you?”

[Name] pouted, tears coming back to their eyes as they tried to wipe it away before telling him the truth.

“A scary man with a mask…”

The description definitely matched someone Scaramouche saw in the troop. Oh, that guy was doomed now; he would make him wish he was dead.

“I’m sorry… I did something wrong and it happened.”

He didn’t like seeing them apologize for something like this, so he just took their right hand and made them follow him. It was silent in the woods, making the atmosphere peaceful.

“There’s a city nearby, let’s get the candies you wanted and then go home.”

Scaramouche was going to make sure they felt better after this. Of course, they had lost an arm and he didn’t know how to fix it without The Doctor, but he wouldn’t risk losing them to him. He wouldn’t be betrayed again.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No, I would never be mad at you.”

They had both broken promises here; he didn’t protect them from getting hurt, and they didn’t follow his orders to be safe. Though there was nothing he could do now, having a peaceful rest of day was what the both of them needed.

“We have each other, don’t forget that.”

“I won’t…”

And so they marched to somewhere they could be happy for a while. He was definitely going to pay more attention to them from now on, and they ouldn’t be that reckless for their own good. Bad things happened, but they were there for each other, and it wouldn’t change.

FAMILY (OF SORTS) — Platonic Fatui Harbingers & reader.

i. SUMMARY: The Fatui Harbingers have a soft spot for Arlecchino's child. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: STRICTLY PLATONIC, headcanons, fluff, parent!arlecchino, house of the hearth!reader, all of the harbingers are reader's weird aunts and uncles, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.6k words. iv. A/N: the fatui are just a dysfunctional found family and i will die on this hill. shoutout to @romaritimeharbor for listening to my rambles about this idea 🫶🫶 also pierro and pulcinella aren't here because i could not think of anything to write for them :')

All of the harbingers knew about Arlecchino’s child; the one that appeared in Fatui Headquarters stuck to her side, eyes cast to the floor. They all saw the way that Arlecchino had held a soft grip on their shoulder, guiding them through the halls with the gentle touch of a parent from the gentle hands of a monster.

The Knave always swore she didn’t play favourites, but from an outside view it was clear that they held a special place separate from the rest. Anyone could see the way they appeared so much more frequently by her side. They were permitted to sit in on meetings, following her like a shadow. Some of the Harbingers guessed that she had picked them to be her successor; that their frequent shadowing was training them to take over once she was gone. Others joked about Arlecchino’s apparent soft side taking over. Whatever the reason, time went on, and the Fatui saw more and more of them.

All of them varied in their opinions of them—some indifferent, some fond—but the Harbingers all cared for them in their own ways.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Columbina simply adores them. They’re just so small and cute, so tiny and fragile! Admittedly, her idea of ‘tiny’ is rather skewed—applying to anyone she deems weaker than her (notably, this label also gets given to Capitano and Tartaglia, despite their larger size and physical strength. The Damselette is truly an enigma.)

Whenever Arlecchino allows her to watch over them, she is delighted. She has a penchant for pet names, so ‘angel’, ‘my sweet’, and ‘lovely’ are all more commonly used than their name. Sometimes there’s a ‘baby’ or ‘bub’ if she’s feeling particularly affectionate, but no matter the name, it is always dripping with sweetness. She’ll sing to them too, to calm them down or get them to sleep. Her voice is gentle, laced with as much love as she would show her own child.

Some Fatui believe Columbina is a woman formed from hollow sweetness; that behind the lazy smile and soft voice, lies a callous and unfeeling heart, but her insistence on singing them to sleep comes from a place of genuine affection.

When they have to return home, she’ll kiss their cheeks and sweep them into a hug, making them promise to visit her soon.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The fact that Arlecchino would tear out his throat with her bare hands if he dared to look at them the wrong way is the only thing stopping Dottore from roping [Name] into one of his experiments. Even then, he can’t help but investigate them a bit. Nothing extreme—please put the knife down, Knave—just some simple trials to see how they work. A quick strength assessment, a test of their reflexes, enough to judge the effectiveness of the House of the Hearth’s training.

The segments all had different opinions of them, varying from Prime’s general indifference to some of the younger segments fondness towards them. The latter were less likely to try to trick them into the lab—not that Arlecchino would allow them anywhere near it without strict supervision—and instead focused their efforts on convincing them to help mess with the rest of the Dottores. They proved to be an excellent partner in crime to thoroughly ruin the older segment’s day.

Despite his assertion that he won’t harm them, Dottore tends to be the one Arlecchino trusts least around her child. His unwillingness to get on her bad side doesn’t stop her from insisting Columbina or herself accompany them whenever they visit his lab.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Tartaglia loves them. The days he gets to see his siblings are few and far between, so he’s always eager to play the older brother for them, and for any other House of the Heath kids that stop by. In fact, whenever any of the children visit, he makes sure to buy them plenty of sugary treats and candies before quickly sending them back to their Father.

(Arlecchino was not happy the first time this happened. It didn’t stop him from doing it every time, though.)

He was the first to convince them to call him Uncle, a feat that he bragged about to the rest of the Harbingers. This small incident would inadvertently lead to a petty competition to see who their favourite is, an event that would quickly spiral out of control with bribery and promises coming from all sides.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Sandrone is very particular with who she allows in her workshop. When the rare guest was allowed inside, they had to follow three simple rules: do not touch anything, do not move unless I tell you to, and do not talk to me while I work. When [Name] first stumbled into the room, she was prepared to discourteously shoo them out the way she did whenever Tartaglia poked his head in to see what she was working on. But after some extensive begging, she relented and sat them down in a corner to watch her work. 

Even if she is far less fond of them as some of the other Harbingers, she still audibly squeaked the first time she was called Aunt Sandrone. This was covered up with a cough, but nothing could stop the warmth blooming in her chest. It was the first time a living creature had addressed her with such a familial title; some of her synthetic creations had a habit of calling her Mother, but this was a living, breathing person.

After they started calling her that, she quietly told them they were free to visit when she was working—provided they did not interfere with anything. 

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

As much as he denies it, Scaramouche has a big soft spot for kids. He’ll swear up and down that he doesn’t care for them at all, but he treats them noticeably gentler than he treats any other member of the Fatui. Arlecchino once caught them huddled against him, using his wide-brimmed hat to shelter from the rain. She never let him forget that moment—the fearsome Balladeer, who notoriously never let anyone close enough to touch him, allowing her child to use him as an umbrella.

They remind him a little too much of the young boy he once considered his family. Whenever he spends time with them, there is something inside that both urges him to protect them in the way he couldn’t protect that child, and warns keep them at arm’s length before they betray him too. But his endearment towards them prevailed, and he begrudgingly allowed them a place in his heart.

Unlike Columbina’s affectionate pet names, the only nicknames Scaramouche gives them are ‘kid’ and ‘brat’, depending on his mood. On good days, they might even get called by their name, though it is a rarity. He cares for them, truly. In his own, strange way.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Capitano is the best at giving advice out of all the harbingers. He is much more down to earth than Columbina and Dottore, and far less cynical than Scaramouche and Sandrone. He’ll let them ramble about their frustrations freely before offering gentle suggestions on what they should do to help. Even if they aren’t looking for a solution, he’s patient enough to hear out their thoughts, however jumbled and incoherent they may be.

He also likes teaching them skills he deems important for a young person to know. These include cooking—Tartaglia is not allowed to join them in these lessons after he almost burnt down the kitchen trying to ‘help’—as well as sewing and mending clothes.  

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Pantalone never would describe himself as parental. He never cared too much for kids; he hadn’t enough patience to deal with constantly crying babies or needy toddlers. Arlecchino’s child was thankfully far above that age, so they were less unbearable to deal with.

He was quite happy to spoil them with extravagant gifts and treats to win their favour, but the most effective way he does so is simply spending time with them. Trips to luxurious restaurants for lunch, allowing them to shadow him while he works. He also likes to give them advice—completely unasked for—about life, and relationships. Unlike Capitano however, his advice is of a much less helpful; he has a habit of advocating for blackmail for solving problems.

In exchange for a box of the most expensive pastries in Teyvat, he got them to call him their favourite uncle in front of Tartaglia. The miniscule dent in his funds was worth the look of betrayal on the younger Harbinger’s face.

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Signora easily took the longest to warm up to them. When she first met them, it was easy enough to label them as Arlecchino’s brat and move them from her mind. But they kept appearing, in and around the headquarters. At first they were always glued to the Knave’s side, but eventually Signora began to see them wandering alone through the halls. She took note of them—not out of any attachment to them, only out of self-preservation knowing that if Arlecchino found out her child landed themself into trouble while she was close by, it would be her funeral soon.

The sense of obligation faltered when she started to grow fond of them. They were irritatingly innocent, a rarity within the Fatui. Something about the spark in their eyes reminded her of when she was young—when she still had warmth in her heart and blood in her veins. For the first time in centuries, her frozen heart began to thaw with care towards another person, and begrudgingly, she began to accept that they were not as unpleasant as she once believed.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

Platonic! Wanderer with a child! reader

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Wanderer tried avoiding you at first, he didnt want to get attached to you, but you were stubborn and followed him around everywhere he went

Over time he started to like you, you were like a younger sibling he never had, while you Can be annoying at times he still enjoys you being around

Wanderer is overprotective of you, he knows you cant protect yourself and he doesnt want to lose you, he lost too many people he cared about already

He wouldnt admit it, but he does enjoy playing games with you, he only wants to see you happy, and he will make sure no harm ever comes for you

Fatalism ⊱⊰ Scaramouche

✤ she/her ✤ words: 9.5k

The oh-so-great Balladeer was a puppet on strings. Despite this, he has a dream to fulfill, and he would do whatever it takes to achieve it—even if it meant forsaking his 'heart'. But pride always comes before the fall. He could never ever write over fatalism.

✤platonic angst :) ✤we're going to break him all over yall

“Awaken.” commanded the Electro Archon as the heavens growled. 

The violet pool within the golden laver swirled, the entwined hands coruscating with a divine spark of Electro. Her command was obeyed, and two pairs of eyes opened at the same time. 

His birth was most unorthodox. Disparate in the sense that he wasn’t born of flesh and blood, but of methods inexplicable to human comprehension—even to him. 

It began with a tranquility like no other, enclosed in a spacious black void in which no other creature lived but his consciousness. But in that cloister of nothingness, he felt safe, he felt a closeness to something he couldn’t pinpoint. The contiguity would be ascertained soon after he heard an obdurate voice calling- ordering him to be roused from slumber. 

So he did. 

And he bore sight to his creator, his mother, the Electro Archon, as she regarded him with a countenance that spoke little of what she felt. Her hand upon his forehead was warm, but her eyes withheld an everlasting winter that bespoke of no potential summers.

She murmured something under her breath before withdrawing her hand and turning her back for a moment. An inauspicious action.

This churn of discomfort was set aside upon recognizing the same warmth somewhere on his limbs and he followed its origin. With a short incline of his head and a twist to the left, he blinked.

There were two sets of long tables, occupied by two figures, him included. His left arm was outstretched to the side, dipped into a gilded laver that contained a liquid tinted with violets that reminded him of his creator’s eyes. It shimmered and emitted a sense of divine power.

But what kept his hand warm in the cold pool was the hand of another. 

Her gaze upon him was a mirror of his own upon hers. She spoke not with her tongue but her [c] eyes, and he too, did the same. They were parallel to one another, distant yet entwined by their fingers that had the same length, down to the fingertips. 

They were both without a name, without a defined personality. Canvases that were white and stark, hoping to be filled with color. Hoping to be a magnum opus. 

He wouldn’t be able to utter anything in that moment, as they were then separated, whisked away by strangers that appeared to be of service to the Electro Archon. He would only see his mother and that girl he reckoned to be his twin sibling later in a privy room, where the tall woman would first come to his sibling, who dipped her head. 

Her figure would close in on itself, glowing [c] until she became nothing but a small accessory floating upon their creator’s palm. It—his sister—had become tinier than his own hand. 

“A pawn piece,” a voice came from the left, and a sly-looking woman with pink hair hummed. “How appropriate for you to liken her to one.”

“But of course,” responded his mother. “If the puppet is to hold the Gnosis, then I must first see if he can handle something in its likeness. She holds at least half of the power, and for that I see no reason not to shape her as a pawn. I surmise it is the only piece in the board untouched by the Heavenly Principles.”

The foxy woman smiled impishly as she concluded. “For though pawns are capable of attaining majesty, they are still expendable.”

“Precisely. Now..”

The Electro Archon came upon him, her violet gaze stormy and steely as she neared the floating ‘pawn piece’ closer to his chest. “May your being be emboldened by that which is meant to be your core; a prototype heart of power.” 

Like congealed water, the piece disappeared through his clothes, into his skin, and into his very being. What previously was a mere accessory took a different shape in his consciousness, and he felt whole.

Complete. It was a feeling like no other. 

Raiden Ei hummed, satisfied at the sight of the spark of life in the puppet’s eyes. “So it has worked.” 

“A good thing, isn’t it?” Yae Miko questioned, her tail swaying leisurely at her back. “But her very case is a pseudo-power half of what is authentic, no?”

“Yes and no.” The little puppet did not understand what they were speaking of, there was only the innate kind of euphoria provided by the comfort of the pawn piece within him—his own heart. It was his twin sibling, his other source of power, if he managed to comprehend the conversation correctly. 

He felt full, like when he first opened his eyes and saw his mother. Felt safe, when he saw that his birth was in synchronicity with his heart. 

So when the hand plunged back into his chest like nothing to retrieve the small pawn, it felt as though he was engulfed in a banquet's inferno. His limbs lit with flames and it was difficult to get a grasp of his environment, mind befuddled, voice lost.

He could barely see the way the priestess scrutinized him as a different item was thrust into his chest. 

It was bigger and weighed much more. It was a heart that thrummed with so much divinity and power that he turned statuesque in its glory. The difference was profound. 

His little heart—his twin, rather—held a peace akin to a nest of comfort, but the heart his mother had newly provided was laden with somber wisdom. He sensed not the presence of the girl who bore only the slight likeness to him, but he felt that of a different one, kind and prudent, yet desolate with life. It was so much that it brought tears to his eyes.

And thus, with a sharp, narrowed look of his creator, the decision was set in stone. 

Not even a fortnight—no, a fortnight was most generous. Not even a week, and they’ve been forsaken.

“I need not a vessel whose gaze was more scrupulous than callous. He isn’t fit for the purpose I built him for.” 

Haunting words.

“And what of the nexus you built with him? Essentially, they are one.”

Sickening truths. 

“... She is a prototype I am not disposed to confine, either.”

Vexing failures. 

Reminders of the reason as to why he had pursued this path. Too many betrayals, too many faux promises, and too little mercy in a world that was filled with naught but the evil end of the spectrum. 

The puppet clicked his tongue as he gazed upon the lacerations on his skin, his clothes torn and tattered, fringed off the hems with licking flames. He stared at the remnants, condemning the beasts inwardly with a series of curses only unfortunate peers ever had the tragedy of knowing. 

“Closer,” he murmured as the mob dispersed, only for another horde to approach. “Closer, and closer..” to greatness. 

The Abyss was even more ruthless than the surface world of Teyvat, yet he found the darkness within it reminiscent of the void that came before his creation. He ignored the sting of his injuries and opted to gird himself with the beckon of power. 

“Don’t push yourself.” the warning was in his head, but it sounded as if the voice came from behind him, always in his shadow. “I can’t have the Doctor poking needles into you as though you’re a labrat again.”

Funny, isn’t that what he was to that man, anyway? Besides, that sort of event happened each time he returned from his expeditions and battles in the Abyss. 

“Kunikuzushi.” the voice was stern. 

“Fine.” 

He always meant to go overboard, that was a metier fit only for someone of his constitution. Fragile and enervated humans couldn’t hold a candle to his sturdiness as a puppet, and it was primarily this facet of his existence that corroborated his mileage to the Fatui.

So, he welcomed it with open arms, for he knew this path, though toilsome and arduous, would pave the road to his fate as a god.

He had forgotten the exact length of his ‘tarry’ in the sinister Abyss, but the darkness was a close companion that he’d known for his whole life. 

In the rare interludes in which there would be no scourge or cataclysm in his stygian ventures in the otherworldly realm, he would rest and allow the extent of his injuries to overwhelm him. Only then would there be an effulgent flicker in the suffocating coat of black, coming upon his will.

His twin sister embodied that light, as she was a creation more mystifying than he was in essence. 

She was—as he recalled his creator called her—his heart, who awoke in his moment of sheer desperation when he tried to ask the Electro Archon for help many centuries ago, and who had been with him ever since. 

Humans were born with one, and he was created with her in a similar aspect, and both their eyes opened at the same time. 

A puppet with a heart.

Kabukimono and Nisemono. 

Kunikuzushi and Kenkoroshi.

Names that undoubtedly would only stockpile on the other as they traversed this path to their shared dream. 

His heart was his main source of power.

Yes, he was strong on his own, but his sister was created from the godly power of Raiden Ei, emboldened by the influence of the Gnosis—the piece that was meant to be his. It meant that his sister was essentially a lesser version of the Gnosis, a facsimile—an imitation.

It was a connotation that conjured a frown on her usually blank face, but one that was wiped off with ease whenever Kunikuzushi would remind her that he was a literal puppet created in the likeness of their creator. There was a peculiar comradery in their shared existence as imitations, but that did not void their identities as ‘creatures of their own’. 

Kunikuzushi would receive word from one of Harbingers themselves to return to Snezhnaya sometime later when he would be in one of his seldomly taken respites. The puppet would wordlessly stare at his hand, which was in the grasp of his twin sister, who had taken up a corporeal form to accompany him in the physical realm.

He never failed to assert that it wasn’t needed—for he could literally hear her voice in his head—, but she also never failed to exhort that accompanying him physically was a different kind of company in itself. He disliked how it was a sound reason, so he relented every time. 

This mutually indulgent quietude was infrequently broken by either two, but it was fractured by the ‘pawn’ the second they arrived in Snezhnaya. Personally escorted by a handful of Fatui soldiers upon the Jester’s management following the order to return from the Abyss, she tugged away at his sleeve. 

“Something weighs the wind.”

During times like these, when she would speak in riddles and figures, the puppet would be less than enthused, yet he humored her. It was inexplicable, but his twin always seemed to have some kind of prescience. 

“It doesn’t feel dangerous, though.” Ah, so that meant it was something good. 

Kunikuzushi could not help the snark in his voice as he responded. “I’m disposed to believe that you’re lying in the face of our ‘life’s’ usual pessimism. When has anything remotely good ever come to stay?” 

“This one will, perhaps.”

It was unnecessary to tone down their voices, even though their peers regarded them with puzzlement. Why should they? No one would understand the context of their conversation, anyway. 

The factuality of Kenkoroshi’s presage would be ascertained in a castle bespeckled with the rigidity of snowflakes. Diamond flakes annealed with solemn ‘love’, sharpened as though to appear like icy dirks, yet refined as if they also symbolize frozen tears. 

The loveless motherland of Snezhnaya was a wintery Kingdom he had only come to at least once or twice. Little did he know, as his twin retreated back into the pawn piece in his chest, that he’d later be acclimated to the snow that was as pale and bleak as his perspective of life. 

“You are hereby appointed as the Sixth Harbinger, take upon a new name as Scaramouche, the Balladeer.”

Ah. So that was what the entourage was for. 

The Tsaritsa was with the voice of a daemon, yet the undertone withheld the echo of a lamenting cherub. Time was scant to bother wondering over why—after all, it wasn’t like it was a responsibility or duty of his to answer to the Cryo Archon’s emotions. He was yet to even cross his own quagmires. 

His inauguration as the Sixth Harbinger, the Balladeer, was well-received and esteemed within the Fatui, but he had no doubts that it was because it was mere pleasantries. The rest of the Harbingers could hardly be impressed, but that was his own personal conjecture, for they showed probable facades that probably belied their ennui. 

The celebration lasted a week, and he came to admit the complication in adjusting to the sudden attention brought with the bestowment of a rank he had come to travail over. 

On the eve of its final day, he was ‘alone’ in his personal quarters that were leagues above what he was used to. Or perhaps he should rephrase that and mention that it had been a long time since he had chambers he could call his own, one that supposedly matched the majesty of his identity.

The last time he had something of this splendor, he was still on the watch of the Electro Archon, and that lasted less than five days.

What an irritating reminder. 

“Is this everything you sought for?” as always, Kenkoroshi’s hand was void of any kind of temperature–she was insipid in a literal fashion, and it wasn’t meant to vilify her existence as an imitation. 

For a moment, Kunikuzushi—no, Scaramouche, was quiet.

It had been a long and exhausting week of celebration, no matter the novelty and pride it brought him to be able to reach such a monumental stone in his ‘life’.

He looked down at the hand on his own, finding [not admitting] the gesture comforting. It was a reticent gesture between them, to just hold hands whenever they were alone—it was homage to their ‘birth’, when they awoke to an unknown world.

They had nothing, no knowledge, just the hand of the other and their presence and existence split as two but deemed as one. 

“No.” He answered later, “I wish for what was meant to be mine.”

The Gnosis. 

In a fleeting moment, he sensed her slight tension before it was easily awashed with her usual nonchalance. “... Why do you covet it so much?”

He scoffed. That was a stupid question, why else would he want something that was his in all putative angles of logic and reason? He was solely created for it.

“My purpose—no, my destiny. It was mine, that power.”

“And my power is not enough for you?”

Snezhnayan winters were algid—bone-chilling. Albeit he was far too acclimated to such temperatures and was far from being bothered, he could feel its biting frost on his skin, still. It was something that a measly hearth in the far left of his chambers could ever hope to drub.

Yet the question that she asked sent a chill down his spine. She asked it with the same, monotonous delivery, but for some reason, it sounded much heavier in his conscience. He despised it. 

“Adequate enough.” He deigned to respond, their hands motionlessly entwined, still.  “Enough to last until my birth as a god.”

There was no response. He despised that, as well. 

For the first time that night, he turned to her—only to find her [c] gaze pointed towards the crackling flames of the hearth. He almost heard the crisp sound of burning wood and could almost smell the scent of burning flesh, but that was a memory in the crevices of his mind. Imageries and sounds that forego his mission to be divine. 

“You’ll help me, won’t you, my dear twin.” there wasn’t exactly venom in his voice, just a poignant edge that prompted the [c]-haired pawn to look at him. When she said nothing again, he clicked his tongue. 

“Kenkoroshi.” he admonished. 

Finally, she answered.

“I will.” He could tell that it was genuine, it just took her some time to respond. 

Good. With that, he turned away, and she did as well, though their hands remained connected. It wasn’t sooner when he spoke again, his tone carrying a sense of realization and pride altogether. 

“We’ve to think of a new name for you. I’ve already taken up another. Any grand ideas?” 

Silence. He wasn’t surprised. He was the one that offered to establish themselves with new names each time they decided to leave a piece of unwanted tragedy behind, so it came to perspicuous reason that he was to do the honors again—

“[Name].” in awe, he turned to her. “I’ll go with [Name].”

The astonishment would’ve lasted had she worn an actual expression on her face. He did not give any sort of critique about her chosen name, however. He simply nodded, testing the name on his tongue. 

“Good.” he squeezed her hand. “A new chapter burns bright. One step closer to the finale.”

Their work was cut out as a Harbinger, although, technically speaking—[Name] wasn’t the Harbinger. Missions for the Tsaritsa and her endeavors proceeded without fail, and under those zealous quests, she was aware that the Harbingers had personal assignments of their own. 

It was ostensible in an organization like the Fatui, she knew, that people’s interactions were transactions in their own right. Her twin brother preferred to intuit it the same way, in contrast to her own beliefs. When she told him of this, that she thought that there needn’t be any ulterior motives to causeries, he rolled his eyes.

“I looked at the world similarly once.. Look where that landed us.” he had sardonically quipped, and the conversation ended there.

Still, even with the facts transfixed, the way she conceived things did not change. It was to the chagrin of her sibling, but he did little to dissuade her from thinking otherwise—for she knew that as long as it wasn’t an impediment to his goal, he’d let her do and think as she pleased. 

He was bitter about it, though, later on mumbling that the ‘ginger-head war addict’ must’ve influenced her. He spoke of Tartaglia, the young soldier who somehow found and believed that there could be goodness in a league that founded morally questionable coups and schemes, the pawn noted.

Although she never truly met the youth who eventually came to be promoted as the Eleventh Harbinger face to face—her existence wasn’t broadcasted for the entire organization to know—maybe, she thought, maybe she was influenced a tad.

Or perhaps she always was just meant to be on the spectrum in opposition to her twin. 

It had always been that way since the start of their lonesome ventures and idiosyncrasies about the nation of Inazuma. 

When he had gotten jaded over the betrayals the world had thrown them in, he swore to scrub every trace of emotion that stained him until not even vestiges could be sensed. Yet, here he still was, the one who felt emotions the most. It was not to disregard the fact that she could also feel, but rather, he was just a feelings-kind of puppet and there was nothing wrong with that. 

Scaramouche said that it was because he had her, his heart, so he could feel. 

[Name], ever circumspect, was worried—but she knew it to be true. If he had no heart, if he just had power, then what would he be like? She didn’t want to imagine it.

What, exactly? Didn’t want to imagine him without a heart? Or didn’t want to imagine him with all the power he could ask for? She didn’t know, either, and that in itself was frightening. 

He assured that he would not get rid of her, however, he always did—for they were twins, they were two beings as one. Kabukimono and Kunikuzushi said it himself, and she took comfort in that. 

But a wise man knew better. Someone, a third party guided and led by pragmatism and reason, stated otherwise. 

“While it is true that you were created as an expendable tool, even the most churlish will know that your power is valuable.”

[Name] merely shook her head, her legs swinging absently as she sat on a rather tall, metal table that surely must’ve felt cold to most humans. “I’m not interested in your spiel, sir. Spare me the talk.”

The Doctor was that wise man, Dottore, the Second Harbinger. From the start, he had been fascinated by their existence as one being split in two, and whether he was intrigued by which one if specificity was in context, well, she didn’t know. 

He unnerved her; his wisdom, his tact, and his rationales. 

“Come now, there’s no harm in being honest, is there? The Balladeer isn’t awake.” 

She didn’t like how he somehow knew how to transfix ideas through her head, a feat none other than Kabukimono could do. The former was a formidable man, and she had forgotten how many times she expressed that to the puppet. 

“I would not have furthered this level of strength without Dottore’s pricking needles,” he had told her before. “So just put up with it.”

Kabukimono was powerful with her, but the Doctor unsealed the hidden strength—that was a truth that she could not deny. So, as advised, she tolerated the Sumerian. Her patience was running thin, however. 

The number of Dottore’s laboratories exceeded the amount of fingers a human had. Throughout her time in the Fatui, she had gone to visit them all, and aside from the location of each tool and table, the interior looked ever the same—not to mention the scent of rubbing alcohol and antiseptic. Nowadays, or ever since he had unlocked the full capacity of Kunikuzushi’s powers, it carried the scent of something inexplicable. 

It might’ve come from the odd, violet substances she always saw him inject into her sibling.

“You may try to hide under that expressionless facade, but I know you are just as emotional. Not even he knows that, does he?”

The Doctor’s footsteps reverberated in the silent laboratory, coupled with the clinks and clanks of the tools in the metallic tray beside the equally metallic table. 

She ignored him, opting to regard the place where Kunikuzushi laid to act as some kind of distraction. To Sandrone, it was an inventing table as much as it was a dissecting one. She mentioned that the names differ with purpose, so if she were to account that into the present, then was it something akin to an inventing table??

The Doctor stopped in front of her, and since her line of sight was pointed to the floor, she was staring at his neatly shined footwear. By then, with him up front, she knew there was no use in blocking out whatever he wished to blabber about. 

“It’s precisely the reason why he exploits your power. Because someone who can’t ‘feel’ is therefore less apt to act out on sentimental grounds. They simply obey—like a tool.” 

Ah, if he meant to incite something by means of depreciating—more like likening—her existence to her twin sibling, then it was unlikely to work. From the genesis of it all, she already knew who she was. What she was. It came with innate acceptance, so there was no way she’d ever think of herself as more than that; a tool. 

“Because that is my purpose for living, to be used as his source of power.” 

“Purpose for living or existing? There’s a difference.” Of course, the Doctor always had a rebuttal, and they were eloquent. “Are you truly alive?”

A good question to ruminate over; was she alive? She was, but was she living or existing? 

The answer, albeit unsaid, was reticent between them. She was simply existing because she came to this world as such. Beyond the names and purposes she had been given, there was nothing of her own will. Or at least, nothing that extended beyond her will to serve as a means of power.

There was nothing wrong with that… she liked to believe. 

It was like being a Vision to a Vision-holder. 

The sight of the Doctor’s feet ambling away recaptured her attention, and so, she looked up for once. She glanced at him with his hands at his back, his steps taken leisurely as he wandered about the cold, sterile laboratory. She wished she hadn’t though, for it seemed like he knew whenever someone looked at him, for he tilted his head to meet her eyes with a small, sharp smile. 

“You mention being more than fine with being used, but I doubt that it doesn’t bother you, not when you know of his objective.”

He turned to her and she stiffened.

“You don’t wish to see him be a god, am I correct, [Name]?”

The place grew even colder than it normally was. 

She felt as though she was being adjured and criticized at the same time as the Doctor detoured to traipse back to her location upon the table next to the sleeping figure of the Balladeer. Subconsciously, she scooted closer to the latter, his presence her sanctuary, be it awake or not. 

Her lacking response seemed only to serve as reason for him to continue and oh—

“Because once the Gnosis is fully in his hands, then he will have no use for you anymore. And you don’t want that, no?”

—how she hated it. 

“Be quiet.” she mumbled. 

He did not stop. “As far as I know, the Electro Archon created both of you at the same time; him, in the likeness of your mother, but to be a vessel. And you, in the likeness of a Gnosis, you are his heart…”

“Be quiet.” she demanded, this time transferring her gaze to her sleeping twin brother in dire hopes of the sight of him easing the turmoil in her chest. It was rare that she felt willful acrimony, as more often she was influenced by Kunikuzushi.

But now—now she felt its poignant swath within, which left no room to circumvent the intense emotion. The Doctor knew this, of course, he always knew when anyone’s buttons were pressed, it was in his repertoire of endless moxies. 

“... A heart that he’ll willingly cast aside in favor of reclaiming true divinity.” he whispered close to her ear and she snapped.

“I said be quiet!”

Dottore retreated with a smile as he felt an invisible shockwave cleave through the atmosphere, distorting space itself. His laboratory, which was pristine and kempt a mere second ago was now in complete disarray. Broken test tubes and glass lay scattered, metallic tables and shelves were capsized, and charts and papers were either torn or a mess.  

Tiny zips and zaps of electricity surrounded [Name], ensconced by the power that was created in imitation of a true Gnosis. It flickered and jolted like a shield, warning the Doctor not to take a step further—ah, she was an elaborate picture of power. Her [c] hair floated all around her figure, [c] eyes gone, replaced with stark white. It looked like she could float off the ground at any moment or launch things to her will. 

He understood thoroughly her ability, despite being ‘faux’. It was the power the Balladeer often harnessed.

A power that still held hidden potential. 

“Mother? Sister? There’s no such thing as familial bonds to a pawn and a puppet. It is as you said, you are just an expendable pawn.” he spoke, noticing how in spite of the destruction from her rare outburst, the table Scaramouche was laying on remained untouched.

Oh, how she cared for him. The Doctor grinned. Perfect.

“But I can make you greater than you are now.”

The gradual return of the pawn to her ‘docile’ state cemented his conjecture; he had her hook, line, and sinker.

“What do you mean?”

[Name] was seldom swayed by promises. Compared to Kunikuzushi, she had always been a tad more cynical, but the Second Harbinger was a man of his word despite his devious and unscrupulous manner of handling affairs. She knew he was genuine—and that was what made his offer so tempting that she could not resist asking him to elaborate. 

And he gladly did. 

“I’ve only tapped and tinkered with the gears of your ‘twin brother’, and have unlocked a myriad of possibilities. What if I were to do the same unto you—his main power reserve? In theory, you will become far better than what you are now.”

He was not vigilant, he was far too complacent as he trailed his steps back to her, his towering figure peering down from his mask. 

He snapped his fingers. “You mentioned that taking up a physical form and consciousness demands power from your very being, no? This means that if you seal your consciousness and become a simple pawn piece as you were originally created, then he will be able to use your power as freely as he wishes. Without thresholds.”

Sacrifice her consciousness and physical form to be a raw core of power-?

“You will be enough.” he added. “Don’t you want that?”

She sucked in a breath. “I..”

It was everything she wanted; being enough. To her chagrin, she was reminded of the night of her twin’s inauguration as the Sixth, in those chilly, chilly quarters where she took up a new name. She recalled asking the question she dreaded the most.

“And my power is not enough for you?”

She did not have a heart of her own, but she could easily grasp the emotion she always felt whenever she was with him in the aftermath of his tragedies; dread. Fear. 

“Adequate enough.” his voice was still clear in her mind, “Enough to last until my birth as a god.”

That time, the world blanked out on her—she had so many things to say. So many things to ask. 

When had he become so detached from their inherent bond to the point of saying without hesitance that he would disregard her as soon as his godly form was built? As soon as he was fit to centralize the Gnosis he had taken from their [mother] creator? They had been together for so long it was not even an exaggeration.

For centuries, through the names, there had been no one but her and him. And countless tragedies that shouldn’t be named. 

Wasn’t it she that held him close when they awakened in the domain as he shuddered and cried when they realized that they were abandoned? Wasn’t it she that was with him through thick and thin, holding his delicate hand that refused to leave hers when Katsuragi and Niwa welcomed them in Tatarasuna? Wasn’t it she that accompanied him in the Abyss? 

She, that promised that she would not let their story as twins be as tragic as the supposedly blessed encounters they had with humans.

[Name] had done her part, she had done exceedingly well, she knew. He even told her countless times. So why—why, why, why did he even begin to entertain the idea of casting her aside? It was unfair, it was unacceptable. 

Ah! She was to blame. 

There was bliss in ignorance, and she chose to be willfully ignorant. Ever since the death of the child that succumbed to Tataragami, he burned and charred the ambitions he usually had. She remembered watching the little doll in his likeness turn into ash and couldn’t help but assimilate it to him.

For in a way, he and the little doll were one and the same. 

Except, the little toy doll had no heart of silver, but Kunikuzushi had one; her. 

She had refused to believe it then, but the moment he denounced emotions, he denounced her existence. Sure, it wasn’t her that directly influenced how he felt, because even without her in his chest he could still feel—but in essence, wasn’t that the ability of a heart?

To make one feel? So when he anathematized emotions, he condemned her willfully.

Shared dream?

No, it was but a mere bandaid to swathe over her insecurity.

It was only her dream because it was her twin’s. There was only one thing that they shared—the same fear of abandonment. Kunikuzushi had grown strong, he chose not to consort with humans any longer for they were the progenitors of their angst and pain. It would no longer hurt if he was the one to shut down and do the abandonment. 

Where did that leave her? 

The signs were all present ever since the Doctor and the Jester gave him a place in the Fatui organization, in a land of loveless frost. He was set on obtaining the Gnosis, set on becoming a power of pure and utter authentic divinity like he was meant to be. 

And that path did not include her, because she was a simple imitation with a power that was only half the legitimacy of the Gnosis’ power. 

He sought more, and that ‘more’ was something she could no longer provide—or so she thought. 

“Well, [Name]?” she became aware of where she was at the moment and blinked. 

For once, she was not doubtful nor fearful of the Doctor, she was hopeful. And it was a dangerous thing to feel around the guileful scholar, but at that very second, she did not care. In the face of a promise that would serialize and cement her future with her twin sibling, how could she start to care about anything else?

Power… she needed it to be enough. 

If she was powerful enough, then he would not need to cast her away. 

“I–”

There was shuffling from the other end of the room that prevented her from speaking further. 

“What’s all the racket for?” Kunikuzushi was waking up with that permanent scowl on his face, his eyes briefly glimpsing the mess that was the laboratory. He looked confused, but not enough to warrant his actual concern. “What, an experiment gone wrong?”

“No. The doctor just got clumsy.” [Name] responded stiffly as she turned to walk over to the Sixth Harbinger.

The Doctor nodded, raising his hands. “My hands do get rather shaky sometimes.”

A stupid lie that was. 

Obviously, it did not work on Kunikuzushi, but he remained indifferent. The pawn knew that as long as it had nothing to do with him, then it did not matter. 

She held his arms to steady him as he swung his legs off the table, but he shrugged her off. It was rude at worst and nonchalant at best, but with the pitiful memories fresh in her mind and the fear throbbing in her, it affected her immensely. Her fingers twitched. 

He did not notice as he gruffly said, “I can walk fine on my own.”

He could and he did. He was stronger. During the first line of experiments he was put through, he required her assistance to get by, but he didn’t now. Did he remember, or was she the only one who relived those times? 

Who am I kidding? She thought with a lump in her throat as he passed by her without so much as a second glance. He dares not think about episodes that entail any of his weaknesses. 

He had grown so much during the course of the centuries, and he had developed a zealous attitude that was admirable as it was intimidating. Intimidating and fearful on her side, because she knew she was shackled on borrowed time. 

Wordlessly, she followed after the Sixth Harbinger, her head kept straight despite the weight she felt that tempted her to look down. As she passed by, Dottore’s words were quiet, serving to be heard by no one else but the one who had the need to hear it. 

“Think about my offer, will you?”

She did think about it. In fact, nothing else had been in her mind except for the offer he proposed; a promise of power. Whilst accepting it may not vouch for her stay as her twin’s heart, it presented a chance.

And to her, a chance was all she needed. 

“Kunikuzushi,” she called one day after he had overlooked the progress of building his godly form, Shouki no Kami. She had been in his mind when she spoke, and could not deny the sting of alarm when he regarded her with frustration, demanding what it was she required. 

“Scaramouche.” he corrected. 

She conceded. “Scaramouche.”

He had been rather perturbed the last few days because of the Traveler, but that aside, he was delighted. She could feel him agog with the idea of finally claiming the Gnosis, of finally being dubbed a rightful deity. 

“Must you really seek the Gnosis?” she questioned without tact. No beating around the bush, just a direct question, which surprised him, she knew. 

The puppet stopped in his tracks, the shadows cast by the sunset across the colonnade enshrouding him in its twilit curtain. Over the centuries he had been with his sibling, not once had she asked about their shared dream. He thought nothing of it, but he was oddly irked that she did—perhaps it was because of the Traveler that she did. 

[Name] always was the most acquiescent between them. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Traveler’s spiel about morality had managed to dent her thinking process. 

“What do you think?” he remarked, resuming his steps. “The Gnosis is my objective for the last hundred years. Do you think I’d replace it for anything else when I am one step closer to reaching my goal?”

There was silence in his head. For the last few days, [Name] had been quiet, there was nothing new to that, but her current muteness was unsettling.

The bitterness within him gyrated his thoughts and spun them negatively, but before he could speak, she already beat him to it.

“If I’m powerful enough,” he did not like where that phrase was going. “... if I’m powerful enough, will you not take the Gnosis?” 

A look of incredulity arose from his expression as he proceeded to traipse towards the workshop, the towering gears and turning wheels welcoming his arrival. 

“Do you realize how ridiculous that question is, [Name]? I’ve been created for the Gnosis, it was my destiny to seize.” his words were acerbic and factual, but why would that matter when it was the truth? Besides, [Name] was used to it. There was no need to worry. 

“Besides,” he gruffly stated as the elevator took him up to the next level where his godly form awaited, powered by the Electro Gnosis. “We both know you’re a mere imitation of the Gnosis, your power is only ‘half of what is authentic’, a pseudo-power, if you will. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that?”

“I haven’t..” her voice was tiny, but it was firm. 

“Good.” 

He huffed as he was brought to the top floor, wherein he was greeted with the mighty mechanical form that he will soon occupy. The Sages that have turned from their pitiful Dendro Archon were already present, alongside the Doctor, who passed a small wave of formality. 

Of course she wouldn’t forget that piece of crucial information, it was the very definition of her being; a tool used for empowerment. 

He began to walk towards his future, but with each step he took, he found it heavy to press on. His eyebrows furrowed and his chest twisted. There was only one explanation for such sensations and he knew what it was and where it was coming from. 

“Where will I go when you acquire the Gnosis?” her next question made it harder to walk forward. “What will happen to me, Kunikuzushi?” 

“Don’t call me that.” he gritted his teeth. 

The Sages and the Doctor were too preoccupied with whatever conversation they were having to notice his balking. Whatever—he preferred it that way. 

His voice low, he proceeded to snap. “And how am I supposed to know? We may be twins, but we’re two different beings. I’m not in charge of delegating what you wish to concern yourself with after I become a god. Do whatever you want.”

His body felt cold. 

“We’re not different,” she protested. “I’m your heart. I’m a part of you.” 

“Then do you support me gaining a new Gnosis?” he asked. “If we are one and the same, then my ideals are yours and so are my dreams. Tell me, do you want me to be a god to fulfill that dream?”

Silence. The world was slow as he waited, unbreathing. 

When the answer came, he was not surprised—not any longer. 

“I still want to stand with you.” 

It was not a direct answer to his question, but given that he had known her for so long, he knew the implication she endeavored to convey through those equivocal words. To this, he laughed sardonically, feeling his chest twist in some kind of bitter acquiescence.

“In other words,” he chuckled. “No, you don’t want me to be a god. You want me to remain shackled to your inadequate power when you know that I seek more?” 

“I can be stronger!” her voice rose in his head and he faltered in genuine surprise. Not once had he ever heard her raise her voice. But that awe gave way for resentment. 

Scaramouche balled his hands into fists, feeling his anger rise and bubble. There was no use in hiding it because this conversation was pointless! From the moment he burned that child’s house down and left everything in the ashes of time, he had made up his mind—he was resolute in becoming a true deity.

They both knew what that implied. 

“Even if you can, you’re just a phony Gnosis.” the words cut and stung, he knew. He was not reviling her in any way because it was the cold, hard truth. “Why else would she create you in the likeness of a measly pawn piece in the chessboard?”

“Even pawns are capable of attaining majesty!” ah, yes, Guji Yae said that herself, that even pawn pieces could be Queens and any other stronger pieces upon reaching theend of the board, but this was no chess game. 

It did not remove in essence, the fact that his twin’s power was not authentic. There was no ‘end of the board’ for her to reach—this was her limit and they both knew that. 

Baring his teeth, the Balladeer trudged on despite the heaviness in his chest weighing him down. He refused to be swayed by a sentimental sibling. Zealous in his steps, he disregarded the growing feel of dread for he knew it was not his emotion, but his twin’s.

It was a sickening feeling and he despised it, so he forwarded with zero hesitation. 

“Quit it. All I hear is my own twin sister refusing to let me achieve the dream I’ve always chased after.” 

He had hoped they would be on the same page—after all, hadn’t it always been the world against them? Them against the world? It left a hollow feeling inside and he swore he felt his eyes burn, but he did not succumb to such a pathetic weakness. He wasn’t a human, nor did he want to be. 

“Our dreams were meant to be shared.” he heard her voice falter. “We were meant to work together.” 

He never thought her to be this sentimental. But he supposed that after that conversation they had a few days ago, she was more inclined to feeling emotions just as he was [forcibly].

The Doctor welcomed him as he stopped in front of them, his hat tipped down to obscure his expression from their prying eyes. He answered his twin sibling sullenly, in a mere whisper. 

“Yeah, I thought so, too.”

“Kabuki—”

The Balladeer thrust his hand in his chest, retrieving the pawn piece—his sister—from the spacious dimension within him. Immediately, her voice ceased to exist in his mind and all was silent. Withdrawing, he looked at the small item in his hand, glowing a faint [c], as if urging, insisting—begging him to return her where she belonged. 

But he could no longer look at it with distant fondness. Now, there was only betrayal. 

I thought so, too. He repeated his own defeated response in his head as the Doctor stepped forward. 

“It’s time, Balladeer.” Dottore smiled. 

The puppet looked up at him, then back at the pawn piece, which he gripped tightly in one hand, as if willing himself to shatter it into pieces—but he did not. He realized that, even with her gone, his chest was hollow. But that did not matter, for he would soon be filled with a power that could void the emptiness inside. 

“I know.” he scowled, pocketing the faux Gnosis as the Sages adjusted the mechanical body, opening the cockpit which held a number of tubes and other small equipment. 

He stepped into it as the familiar aura of the Electro Gnosis captured his attention, glimpsing it just in time before it was inserted in the center piece of the body that bore the insignia of Electro. He looked back as the Doctor spoke, though the latter’s line of sight seemed to be directed elsewhere on his person.

“We will begin the process. Are you prepared?” Dottore smiled placidly. 

What a stupid question. It seemed like he was being bombarded with tons of it today, but no matter, for this coming dawn was to be a divine advent. 

Scaramouche allowed his hand to fall beside him, subtly feeling the figure of the small piece of faux power in his pocket as he answered.

“Of course I am.” 

He was awakened not as the perfidious Sixth Harbinger that had absconded his position, but as a newly born god. It was a dreamless sleep, filled with the thrum of divine power. 

“Do you remember?” Cloaked from within the penumbra of a false sky, two beings stood—not quite human, yet capable of humanity, regardless.

One so refused to act on it, not any longer, at least. And the other remained in the grey.

The wind was howling with the nightly breeze of Sumeru, cold, and chilly, but it affected neither. A voice spoke, sounding blank. “I do not understand the need to tirelessly search for a heart… when you’re already capable of feeling, anyway.”

“Such outdated information, I don’t seek a heart any more.” Cut a voice so sharp the wind stopped. “I’m looking to crush these filthy emotions. You should, too.”

Silence. It wasn’t the uncomfortable kind, but it was tense with acquiescence, a muted clash of perspectives, ones demanding to be forced upon the other. The response came, sounding bland, if not defeated.

“No.”

That was the last proper conversation they had—it was annoying to recall such things, especially during a time when he was battling against the pesky Traveler who knew nothing but to scupper his plans.

He didn’t know why he would recall it now out of all times, as he heaved breath after breath, the power from the tubes slotted into the sockets of his back not enough to cement his victory.

“I don’t think I will.”

So annoying, so, so infuriating everything was. Everything be damned to hell.

He could almost see her stupid blank face in the back of his mind; he knew she would be disappointed, but when was she not? For someone who put emotions on such a pedestal, she knew only how to be dismayed by him. Well, good riddance.

“I quite like feeling.”

Good riddance, indeed,  as the ginormous mechanical figure that housed a supposed god fell to its knees. What a weakling he was, putting himself above others who he deemed unfit for the world; humans who succumbed to desperation like a beggar to a coin.

Yet there he was, the same miserable picture of the puppet he swore to no longer be, hand outstretched towards a Gnosis meant to be his, but arbitrary fate deemed should never be.

The pain of hitting the ground was dull compared to the various other experiments he went through in all the years being a subject to the Doctor’s experiments—and though he thought his own consciousness would pity and leave him be, it did not.

Through the ringing of his ears, he heard Buer usher the damned Traveler elsewhere. And the fact that they did not once acknowledge his pitiful descent only went to show how he truly was a puppet strung along in the grand scheme of a play dolled up by the fate of this accursed world.

“Scaramouche.”

He could not move, no, he did not have the strength and will to move at the moment. His crushing defeat was like a torrent that swallowed him underwater, flooding his being and forcing him to think of nothing but it as he drowned further.

The Doctor’s figure as he hovered over him, like what a scientist would to a specimen, displayed the kind of hierarchy there currently was in the battlefield meant to be the location of his rise as a god.

A failed one.

“It may be difficult to see, what with your pitiful state right now, but you’re far from being average, are you not? So, you are still capable of response. Now tell me.” The man hovered something above his line of sight. “Is this familiar to you?”

He dared not to feel, he swore not to feel—yet he could not help the churn in his empty chest.

A pawn piece. Its homely [c] glow beckoned him to reach out to it, and he did so with a weak, trembling hand as he struggled against the lapse of his consciousness.

It was a reaction out of instinct—to grasp for something that was his, that belonged to him, that was a part of him. 

But then it was whisked away and he swore it felt as though he crashed to the ground for the second time. He disliked the nagging trepidation in the back of his head as he shifted to adjust with all that he could, suddenly deeming the tubes that made him powerful a while ago now heavy, burdened with the reminder of his shameful defeat in a war that he began. 

What on earth did that Harbinger planned to do? How was he able to take her? 

He took her with him in his newly assembled form. 

“Dottore…” his voice was weak and he hated it. “How..”

What was he going to do– what did he plan to-

The Doctor laughed as he stepped away with a flourish, gloved hand allowing the piece to float above his palm as he recounted a time of long ago.

“My word! But I thought you sought the bonafide power from an Archon and not from some prototype!” he grinned, “Didn’t you say… that you have no need for her? You fallen ‘god’?”

He wasn’t going to-

“Dottore-!”

“I’ve given you what you want, is it not only fair for me to take my share?” resumed the victor in this play. 

And that measly reply was all that poor Scaramouche needed to understand what the Doctor intended to do.

The realization seized him like a serpent, and all of a sudden he loathed his nihilistic, pragmatic view that everything to the world was a simple transaction.

Yes, he wanted Dottore to make his dream a reality. But what did that spell in exchange?

[Name]. 

Hearing the puppet’s spasming breaths made Dottore huff. He initially had no plan to further taunt someone who was already so pitiful, but he could not resist the morbid pleasure it brought him; a puppet who was a puppet through and through.

Being a god was none other than a foolish position unfit for the latter in the first place.

The hand that shot to wrap around his ankle prevented him from taking another step, and instead of feeling irked, he was only amused. 

“What desperation…” he commented.

Deciding to take things up a notch for his own entertainment, he bent on a knee over the piteous Scaramouche, the once great Balladeer, who was now in the shambles of his own mechanical body.

He had to commend him, for despite the obvious asthenia, the fire in those violet eyes were never snuffed out.

“You once wished to be a mortal with a heart, so enlighten me. Between the two of us, who is the closest thing to a weak human being now?” he allowed the piece to float closer to the loser, and he could see the natural effect it brought.

The Balladeer’s easing body, the slight serenity in his expression at the thought of being so close to the being he had with him from the very start…

… And the absolute desperation on his face when the Doctor pulled it away.

“Dottore!” ah, that scream of madness as he clawed the ground, breaths heaved between demands. “Do not… even think of laying a hand on her! She’s not yours! She’s—!”

“Yours, then?”

Dottore asked upon the shambled excuse of a god, the floating item in his possession that glowed a faint [c] and resembled a pawn piece in the chessboard being hidden into his coat.

Over his heart, where it throbbed the same color of [c], almost tauntingly.

“No…” he smiled, kicking off the clasp around his boot, and walking away. Leaving the puppet to the isolation he was so used to. “I don’t think you’ve any right to say that anymore.”

Truly, he wished to stay for a moment longer to watch the show of the desperate Balladeer, whose actions at the moment bespoke nothing of the menacing Harbinger he once was. But the desperation and agony of someone who was once just Kabukimono.

But alas! There were things to be done, and places he needed to go.

Agony—the ugly, distasteful twist of his chest was the sole reason for why he wanted to rid his emotions. To be a superior being incapable of it, for feelings were weak.

He no longer desired a heart, so he threw it away.

Yet at that moment, the godforsaken feeling of having let go brought about a pain and denial that no words could ever describe. He was helpless. Again. To the hands of fate and his own failure. Who was he to be mad, when he had been the one to forsake his heart?

It was beyond hypocritical if he were to ask for it back.

Oh, and where was he now? A measly bug on the cold stone floor.

On shaking arms, he attempted to push himself up. With nonexistent strength, he urged himself to move, but it was the very equipment engineered and produced by the Akademiya that reined him back like a literal puppet on strings—and he was soon crashing back to the floor. But he was nothing if not recalcitrant. 

“No- no, don’t-” the consciousness he earlier begged to be taken away was doing its job, and he realized for certain that he would be rid of it.

To his utter desperation.

“Get back here, this isn’t what we agreed on… !”

Deep in the crevices of his mind there resounded the voice so raw with emotions he wished to burn. An ache—a defect in him that he could not, for the artificial life of him, destroy.

His chest hollowed as the Doctor went farther and farther away, carrying with him, the prototype heart he had replaced for the Gnosis.  

Anything but her— no more- don’t take any more from me!

[How bastardous he was, to forsake her but in the end demand that she not be taken away from him? What irony.]

That time, he wanted nothing more but to curse everything and himself as he shook. With fear or anguish, he no longer knew.

The [c] glow he had been acclimated to over the centuries was vanishing, just like he wanted to, but now selfishly wanted to take back. Was it because he failed that he wanted her again? He didn’t know anymore—he was afraid to know. 

Black spots bedecked his vision, the bile of emotions rising into his throat, threatening to spew in hysteria. Words died in his chest and his voice faded, but still, even with his fading consciousness, he dragged his body across the pavement, fixated on the Doctor’s back, who was now walking away.

Far.. far.. away. 

Scaramouche, Kunikuzushi—Kabukimono raged and cried with a hand that could not reach for anything.

Not his goal of transcending into a deity.

Not his mother and creator, the Archon of Inazuma.

With the last of his consciousness and strength, he cried out. “[NAME]!!” 

Not the heart he called his twin sister. 

His hand fell and his consciousness left, leaving him in the swathe of familiar blackness. One that spoke without the company of the one who knew him most. 

It wasn’t fair—this wasn’t fair. 

But alas, perhaps fatalism had written that, even if he was far from being a powerfless human being, he could still do nothing to determine his own fate.

That of which included his desertion of his heart, his defeat, and the grand consequence to a dream he had ambitiously chased for himself. 

a/n: boop. see you post-irminsul, boy.

also, mc's as "kenkoroshi" is made up of the kanji 剣 [ken/sword] and 殺し [koroshi/kill], so whilst kunikuzushi is literally country destroyer, i opted to have mc be named something that implies her nature as a weapon. 偽物 [nisemono], on the other hand, means 'fake'. or in fatalism context, she's a fake/imitation of a Gnosis.

This has been stewing in my mind for,, a year and a half? Finally out of the basement.

SAGAU SCARAMOUCHE RATES YOUR TASTE IN GENSHIN MEN...

❀ synopsis: you introduce your friend/unofficial sibling to your lover. What could possibly go wrong? everything... pt.2 is here!

❀ pronouns: they/them

Traveler/Aether: 7/10

Enjoy that passing score because that will be your only passing score from here on out. While he does respect the traveler, he wouldn't hesitate to threaten him with another battle if he ever raises his hand on you. Though the threats would be told in private since Scaramouche is what you can call a Tsundere, initially he despises you when the two of you first met and wasn't scared to show it.

You were persistent in at least being his acquaintance, which he thought was foolish for a god like you. Aren't you supposed to be all-knowing? You would know by now that it's hopeless to be his friend. And you would know the reasons why.

But surely enough, you grew to be a stigma in his everyday life. Now he can't go through the day without at least seeing you once. And he loathes that fact. But what can he do? His emotions got the better of him again, he can't bare the thought of losing you and he'd be damned if some blonde with a dull blade is going to hurt you when he's around.

But out of everyone in Teyvat, he tolerates Traveler the most despite being on rocky terms with him. Because he is your first host, and through the traveler, you two met. And that will be the only thing he will thank the traveler for. Every time you greet him with a hug he will be there in the background with arms crossed boring his eyes on the back of their skull. Ahem, excuse me (Y/N), where is his hug? He's here too y'know...

Venti/Barbatos: 3/10

Hopefully, you don't tell the secret of Venti being one of the archons because he despises them. But even with Venti's disguise he still wouldn't like him, why are you dating an alcoholic bard? Don't you know you can do better than this? (It's not like he will approve of it even if you bring a girl/boy straight out of a fairytale) Just like with Aether, he threatens Venti with what will happen if he ever breaks your heart. Venti just laughs off his threats, reassuring him that he wouldn't dream of it.

Scaramouche sulks and mumbles curses under his breath every time he witnesses Venti serenading you in public. His jealousy flares whenever he sees Venti clinging to your arm as he tries to persuade you to move into Monstadt, he would sometimes invade your conversation to tell him that you're already happy living in Sumeru (living with him) and that you won't move in Monstadt.

Venti would catch on quickly that Scaramouche was jealous, and would sometimes find amusement in provoking the child (Because in Venti's eyes, he is one) by kissing you on the cheek when he knows Scaramouche is looking. When the two are alone, Venti would tease him. Saying how he's planning to propose to you and that the both of them should try to get along since he will be your future husband. At those times Scaramouche wanted to murder him right then and there.

Despite the teasing, Venti does try to gain Scaramouche's approval since you and Scaramouche have a bond like siblings. Though I don't see him fully liking Venti, he would learn to tolerate him more as time passes. Scaramouche is protective (possessive even) with you, and has certified abandonment issues. He can never learn to accept that you have other people in your life. Because you're the only person he has left in his life.

Kamisato Ayato: 5/10

He didn't like him before and he doesn't like him now, knowing that he is loyal to Ei. The only thing he likes about him is that he's not always with you, which gives the both of you some time together. But when he is with you he can't help but eyeball him from a distance, observing how he acts towards you.

He knows Ayato is a cunning and unpredictable man, so whenever he approaches you Scaramouche would linger in the background. Though he knows Ayato is a gentleman and wouldn't sink low enough to hit you. So he gives him that. Doesn't mean he won't get jealous though.

On the occasion when Ayato does have time with you, he would stalk and follow the both of you to make sure nothing suspicious happens. Whenever the two of you kiss he has to stop himself from gagging, especially if it's a long and slow kind of kiss. The moment the date is done and Ayato leaves he acts like a 5-year-old wanting to spend time with their oldest sibling.

"You spend more time with him than me..." He would tell you while leaning on your shoulder. Scaramouche, sweetie, they just spoke with you this morning for 5 hours straight what do you mean they spend more time with Ayato-

Tartaglia/Childe: -1/10

He has warned the Fatui to not go make contact with you by any means necessary. And if they did then they would be severely punished. Not only has Childe talked to you, but has the audacity to court you, and you accepted! Don't you know how dangerous he is? He's part of the Fatui!

So is he? W-well he's different ok?! (he's not like other Fatui members✨) At least Scaramouche didn't pretend to be your friend, and he protects you now! So does Childe? He's better than Childe! You don't need him when he's already here with you!

His envy skyrockets after this discovery. What does Tartaglia have that he doesn't? The thought lingers in his head as he surmises what could be the reason for you accepting Childe's love.

But he couldn't find one. He doesn't understand, how can you love him? He scrutinizes Childe every time he approaches you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, he scoffs at Childe's attempts to get closer to him and ignores him whenever he asks Scaramouche if he can take you out on a date. He will never trust Tartaglia with you. He doesn't care how many times you tell him that you love him. The moment Childe turns his back on you, he wouldn't hold back.

"I'm the clingy one? Pfft! Yeah right, if anything you're the one who- hey! When did I tell you to stop holding my hand?"

Time dilation with sibling scara. What’s his reaction to reader sleeping for weeks on end and not sleeping for months?

SAGAU SCARAMOUCHE AND TIME DILATION (SLEEPING + HINT OF DAILY LIFE EDITION)

❀ synopsis: Scaramouche pesters you for the 20th time that you need to take a break. Maybe he's right, you have been overworking yourself for quite a while. Maybe a nap is what you need. Btw this is platonic and Scaramouche is a wanderer in this hcs.

❀ pronouns: they/them

He's confused, you're like a rubix cube to him. No matter how many times he twists and turns you there would still be cubes that don't match the color. And to add to that, rubix cubes don't even exist in Teyvat. It's been what? Two months since he noticed that you haven't slept for even a bit, and how sometimes you would doze off when doing basic tasks. There are also times when you would forget to breathe, despite being human. And times when you don't blink for half a day and just stare at whatever you were reading.

Did he forget to mention you don't eat at all? Your body should've been malnourished for not eating any protein or consuming any calcium. But no, you're in perfect condition. Well, you are God. But your body is human the last time he checked.

He would confront you about this like an Asian mom worrying for their child but the parent doesn't know how to show their concern. He threatened that if you don't sleep he will sedate you just so you can close your eyes for once. Not wanting to continue arguing with Scaramouche you agreed and slept at your shared camp.

It wasn't suspicious at first, he thought you were just oversleeping since you haven't slept for a long time. But when he came back from collecting ingredients for lunch and you were still sleeping he was starting to worry. When lunch was made he shook you to wake up, it turns harsher the longer you didn't even move your arm to push him away.

But as the day goes by he starts to worry when the sun is about to set. Why haven't you woken up yet? Is this some sick joke your playing on him? Nahida is the one reassuring him that you will be alright and that it's nothing life-threatening since it seems like your body is in perfect condition. He hopes she's right, you're the first person who stayed with him for this long. He doesn't know what he's going to do with himself if you leave him.

He spends most of his time at the side of your bed, waiting for you to move or open your eyes. Nahida checks you twice a week to see if anything changed in your state, and he would listen to her report to ease himself from his panic and assure himself that your still here with him.

He has definitely cried at one point after weeks of you sleeping. He wanted you to rest, but not like this! What were you thinking?! Is this supposed to spite him? Did you want him to say sorry for yelling at you? Tell him what he did wrong so he can compensate for it, just please wake up...

The moment you do wake up you will be greeted with a very stressed and emotionally constipated Scaramouche. But the moment he does see you awake he is stuck between hugging you and slapping you in the face because how dare you to leave him for so long?

He probably did both, but he slapped you first before hugging you.

He was also holding back tears-

Do him a favor and don't point out how he's this close to crying.

"Y-you idiot! You're so selfish! Why did you worry me like that? I thought you died. If you do that again I'll kill you myself! S-so please don't die before that..."

Hello! i absolutely love your work <33 can i request sagau scaramouche rates your taste in genshin boys pt 2. with diluc, kaeya and zhongli??

SAGAU SCARAMOUCHE RATES YOUR TASTE IN GENSHIN MEN PT. 2

❀ synopsis: you introduce your friend/unofficial sibling to your lover, what could possibly go wrong? everything...

❀ notes: AJNDJNEHBFH MY FIRST REQUEST!!! thank you so much for the support and reblogs, I'm also very honored you like my writing! here's the first part

❀ pronouns: none specified

Diluc Ragnvindr: 2/10

Diluc is this 🤏 close to receiving a 1/10 if he continues to invade you and Scaramouche's sibling bonding time. Obviously, the two don't get along (and will probably never get along) due to Diluc's past and Scara's trust issues, the two argue a lot about you while you're just there vibing with the lamp grass unaware of the commotion.

He's heard of it all, the youngest Cavalry Captain who left the Knights to pursue Monstadt's enemies alone. He'd sometimes use his knowledge of Diluc's past to provoke him, and boy does it provoke him. The two went into a full-blown fistfight at one point, with the occasional use of a vision since their weapons have been thrown aside by the other.

Scaramouche is clingy to the ones who stay by his side, and Diluc is protective of the ones he loves, so you can imagine what it was like when Diluc saw you walking along with Scaramouche (who Diluc knows as the Balladeer, the 6th harbinger of the Fatui) when you told him that you would be introducing a very close friend of yours. It started with Diluc carrying you on his shoulder and running away, with a wild Scaramouche on his tail. And ended with Diluc being treated by Barbara and Scaramouche being treated by Nahida.

You really have to manage your time here, the two won't ever get along and if you spend more time with the other, the one you didn't spend time with will go visit the other and start demanding that they leave you alone. Diluc would wonder how you could ever tolerate and even care for Scaramouche, whatever your reason is he wouldn't be able to understand. Scaramouche would ask when will you break up with Diluc, and would pout if you reply that you wouldn't break up with him.

Kaeya: 3/10

Just right next to Venti, and he would soon be ranked right next to his brother if Kaeya doesn't learn to shut the fuck up-

Arrogant, lazy, and a teasing prick. How many more traits can Kaeya have to piss people off? Scaramouche already looks down on humans, and seeing Kaeya with you disgusts him as he believes you deserve so much better. their first impressions of each other were bad, you can feel the tension in the air when the two just stood there with fake smiles.

He hates it when Kaeya tags along in your travels, even insisting on helping the both of you with your journeys when he has free time. Scaramouche would make a passive-aggressive comment on how the two of you don't need his help, and that you are both capable of defending each other. if you agreed to Kaeya joining Scaramouche would be appalled, before turning around so no one can see the expression on his face. Why did you agree??

The two are in a contest with how much they're provoking each other. If the other one breaks and lash out, the one who didn't wins. Their words to each other are sharp, and even when they're having a decent conversation with the other it's only when you're around, and even then it has slight undertones and hidden threats. Good lord, I hope you have a lot of patience.

Zhongli/Rex Lapis/Morax: 4/10

You know that situation where someone's little sister is dating a boy and the big brother tries to be intimidating but the boy she's dating is taller and stronger than the big brother. Yeah that's the situation Scaramouche is in, but you are not a little girl nor is Zhongli just a human boy.

He's very annoyed with the situation, he's supposed to be the reliable one! What is this skyscraper of a man doing here?! Ngl he might be a tad bit insecure with the situation and would be at arm's length around you the entire time Zhongli was around the both of you. After the first few weeks of introducing him to Zhongli Scaramouche would notice just how pathetic this man is for you, and would find it amusing to watch.

Though it would soon turn to annoyance when Zhongli slowly starts dedicating all his time to you and going as far as to do his paperwork right next to you. This pet of yours is slowly turning into a pest, and he wants to get rid of it immediately. Zhongli would notice how Scaramouche is excluding him from your travels and would confront him about it in private. After the confrontation the atmosphere between the two became suffocating.

The only thing holding back Zhongli from throwing an entire mountain at the child was the fact that you and Scaramouche have a bond similar to siblings. The two of you insult each other but it never held any sort of ill-intent, and you both travel together frequently. Zhongli would rather die than be hated by you, and killing/hurting Scaramouche is a one-way ticket to being hated. So for now, he would just try to spend as much time with you, even if it means being next to the purple haired brat.

Omg your sibling scara is the cutest!!! Could you do some head cannons of them when they where younger? Like how they would spend time together like collecting flowers, ingredients, stuff like that? ❤️

SAGAU BUT YOU DESCENDED EARLIER THAN EXPECTED

❀ synopsis: the sacred scriptures stated that 6000 years from now you would descend to Teyvat once more. Thousands of years passed and it's now 200 years until you descend. Little do they know, you defy the holy scriptures and descended 200 years earlier than what was prophecized, just in time for Kabukimono to find you homeless and broke.

❀ notes: guys I still haven't made it to Inazuma so please bare with me on this one. And also keep note since the reader is the "divine creator" they are immortal in this headcanon.

❀ pronouns: they/them

When Scaramouche was left behind by Ei he didn't have anywhere to go and continued to wander mindlessly in the woods. Soon he found a small pavilion and decided to stay there to shield himself from the rain. Most of his days consist of sleeping and exploring to find any sort of fruit to get his hands on. But one day when the rain was pouring the sky split open and a human falls from the sky. It was only for a second before it closed again.

He rushes towards you when you fell harshly to the ground, he observes you for a moment when he saw your strange attire. How did you fall off the sky? Why did you fall from the sky? Did your mother leave you here too? He quickly leaves his trance to bring you under the pavilion with him since you might fall ill.

Most of his days consist of staying with you on the beach side. He would sometimes follow you around like a duckling when he notices you exploring since he has nothing better to do anyway. When you sleep he would cuddle onto your side and stay there for as long as you're unconscious.

he thinks you're strange, he doesn't understand why you would touch his hair or pinch his cheeks when all he did was sit down and do nothing. And sometimes you would educate him on things he didn't know about. His favorite moments are when he would lay himself beside you while you tell him stories about another world.

He wants to thank you for all that you have taught him, but finding exquisite gifts in a place far from civilization is hard. So most of his gifts consist of giving you flowers or helping you cook by finding ingredients. You had to save him from electro slimes more than once its not even funny-

When the both of you made it to the village of Tatarasuna he always asks for your assistance in helping him with basic needs. Most villagers would look at both of you and consider you siblings and Scaramouche would agree. If you clarify to the villagers that you two are in fact not siblings he would be dumbfounded, you don't consider him as your brother? But you both have been living together for a long time! A-are you going to leave him soon then?

His habit of sleeping beside you never passes, if you both have separate rooms he wouldn't be able to sleep. Not when the nightmares of you leaving haunt him every night. So when your fast asleep in the middle of the night Scaramouche would enter your room and shake you awake, claiming he had another nightmare again and asking if he can sleep beside you. If you don't wake up he will cuddle beside you anyway, holding you tight before sleeping himself.

After the two betrayals he would consider you as one of his ONLY trusted allies, he would never tell anyone that he considers you as family. What if they use you against him? Or worse, what if they try to get close to you and you abandon him for them? He can't risks that.

Once it's known that you are actually the Divine Creator of Teyvat it now makes sense to him why you fell down from the sky all those centuries ago. But he wouldn't treat you any different, so what about his sibling being the almighty creator? They are still his family, he wouldn't subject you to high expectations. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't be overprotective. Cause now you have all these new responsibilities, plus your clingy pets- *cough* excuse him- acolytes are always with you, and he barely gets to spend time with you! And it infuriates him to no end.

Why can't they just leave him and his sibling alone? He was the first person you met when you descended, so what right do they have to think they can take you away from him?

"You don't need to be around those bumbling idiots all the time. Just ditch them and travel with me. I know a place where those pests won't follow us."

Headcanons for sibling scara with an affectionate reader who pinches and kisses his cheek just because he’s cute and likes picking him up?

SAGAU: THE GOD OF TEYVAT WONT LET GO OF ME PLEASE SEND HELP-

❀ synopsis: you are the clingy one, and you so happen to be a god with super strength. how do the three different phases of Scaramouche handle the situation?

❀ notes: this was supposed to be sibling headcanons but then realized just how ambiguous I made the relationship between the reader and Scaramouche. So this can be implied as romantic or platonic, or if this is regular genshin or sagau.

❀ pronouns: they/them

Kabukimono with a clingy God reader: Omg, he is so overwhelmed with joy and embarrassment, please give him a minute to process his emotions. If you picked him up in private he would immediately wrap his arms around you to try and hug you. He would even request for you to spin him around if you didn't do so yet. In public, though he would short-circuit and shyly ask for you to please put him down, if you don't he will do his best to shrink in your clothing if he sees any of the villagers staring.

Pinching his cheeks is a different story, it was ok at first but then he grew to not like them. Mostly because it feels weird if you do it, and maybe even painful if you're not gentle enough. He would pout before (gently) slapping your hand away before you can pinch his cheeks. But then he would realize what he did before hugging and affirming how sorry he was and you can pinch his cheeks as much as you want please don't leave him alone-

Scaramouche with a clingy God reader: Soft moments are over, have a scummy Scaramouche to replenish your palette. He enjoys the affection, but only in private. If you are taller than him he would be even more frustrated with how you can easily sweep him off his feet and pick him up. His face bloomed a deep shade of red as he demands that you put him down immediately. If you did this in front of any of his subordinates he will feel a huge chunk of his pride die inside of him.

Similar to when he was Kabukimono he wouldn't like the cheek pinching. While pinching his cheeks he will just give you this look that says "You-will-forget-what-its-like-to-eat-solid-food-if-you-don't-let-go-of-my-cheek", but he soon learns to appreciate the small piece of affection and even mimic your actions by pinching your cheek too.

albeit harsher since he is petty like that

Wanderer with a clingy God reader: Unlike these two, he is SHAMELESS. Nobody remembers him anymore so what does he have to worry about? Forget about you picking him up in public, he will be the one to drag you back to the camp if he wants to spend time with you. Any sort of physical affection is greedily gobbled up by this man. He would act like a tsundere in public unless he was jealous and you decided to pick him up to prove that you're taken. In that case he would be smug.

Pinching his cheeks would be a bit annoying but the more you do it, the more he grows to like it. It would come to the point he would lean onto your hand if you ever do it. And then it would just be you holding his face. He likes your hand, they are very warm...

wild bunny

[ scaramouche x child!reader ]

summary: whenever scaramouche looks at the young child that always stood idly beside him, he is reminded of a certain fledgling that he once lost.

notes: had a sudden burst of writing juice because of the scara cutscene that broke my heart, tis my usual platonic shit agenda lesgo | m.list

words: 972 | warnings: a lil rushed because i typed this while at work LHASHAHAHAHA also mentions of dead pipol lmao

"what the fuck."

scaramouche stares in disbelief, jaw slacked and furrowed eyes pointed at the small cocoon of blanket on the couch in his office. your fluff of hair is disheveled, eyes unusually puffy and teary rather than dull. the small trail of sheen on your cheeks confirms his suspicion.

the unfeeling stray he picked out from the wilderness of inazuma is crying.

he had not seen you express a single emotion other than conflict, anger and bloodlust before, so for you to be crying—alone—it's safe to say that the balladeer is undeniably bamboozled.

"what are you wasting tears for, brat?"

maybe he should have been a little softer when approaching children in their… vulnerable state. but honestly speaking, scaramouche doesn't exactly know if that applies to you. children under the wing of the fatui aren't exactly normal—especially, children who can wipe out a whole team of fatus. nonetheless, you are still a young fledgling, exposed to the truth of this world where the gods are cruel and being weak does not equal to survival.

you remind him so much of kunikuzushi.

he grimace at the reflection, a parallel that coaxed him into taking your battered form under his wing—an unbelievable truth, as much as he denies it.

"i lost the bunny."

"the what?"

he crouches in front of the couch, forearms on his knees with an exasperated look on his face, though his feelings are far from the expression plastered on display. he has an inkling about what's upsetting you, now that he looks over you once more.

you and that thing are practically inseparable.

"i lost the bunny you gave me."

and by bunny, you meant the stuffed bunny he gave you a few months after he plucked you from the wild.

the one scaramouche gave because the first time he saw you was when you were blankly staring at the lifeless bunny on the ground. it died from the aftermath of a wild goose chase. a few weeks before he found you, fatuis and random nobushis would turn up dead in the wilderness of inazuma. it infuriated scaramouche. camps upon camps of fatus would be thrown into disarray and their rations are emptied. when he sent his underlings after the perpetrator, they'd fail to come back with good news. worse, they won't come back at all. he'd come upon them sprawled on the dirty ground somewhere else, dead.

so he went after the menace himself.

that's when he found you in the middle of a fatui camp, his underlings basically useless at this point, slumped on the ground and the poor innocent bunny in front of you. it's later then after he apprehended you that he found out that you were protecting the tiny mammal.

you were just a kid trying to survive in a world filled with monsters, strong enough to protect yourself but helpless and clueless when it comes to the life of others.

when his eye caught sight of a ragged stuffed bunny in an abandoned village, he grabbed it on impulse, faltering only when he was about to hand the now clean stuffed bunny that he stitched up himself. despite being confused as fuck, he casually tossed the thing at you, telling you that it's of no use to him and that you should act like a kid more because your indifference is creeping him out.

he prefers you over any kid by the way. don't tell him i told you.

"i'm sorry," his eye twitched, irritated at how you seemed to be so bothered. it's just a random stuffed bunny, nothing great about it. but he supposes that for someone at your age and comprehension, it must've meant something special for you.

and it does, a lot.

"it's just a toy."

"you gave me that bunny."

he sighed audibly, rolling his eyes before pushing himself to full height, arms crossed.

"it's not the only stuffed bunny in the world, idiot."

"it's the one you gave me. i don't want just any stuffed bunny."

now this, caught him off guard.

you seemed to be genuinely sad about losing the bunny, an expression he only saw on the day you first met. the same look on your face when you failed to protect something you deemed precious. if you're directing such sentimentality towards the stuffed bunny, then you must've really loved it.

more so because it came from him.

scaramouche is brought back to centuries past, an image of a different child flashing before his eyes.

he feels his chest tighten, but he dares not linger at the thought.

"look, you little gremlin," scaramouche grumbled, masking this unfamiliar feeling with exasperation and irritation—he dares not display such thing. "we can just get you a new one and it would still come from me. who the hell do you think provides for you, huh? me, no one else."

he sees your eyes brightened in the slightest, now facing him. he can literally imagine an invisible tail wagging with how you seemed to perked up. another unfamiliar sight, but not unwelcomed. if anything, it's going to be what he thinks of for the next few weeks, unbeknownst to him.

"but how about the one i lost?"

"forget it, it's ragged anyway," he gestures you to follow. "move your little feet, we have places to be and things to do."

the sound of your feet trailing behind him is something he would come to love listening to. that and the slight tug on his sleeves where your little hand naturally clutches around.

a week passes, you found a pristine white bunny in your quarters. it looks different from the one you used to have, but the stitches are familiar and the small electro symbol on its torso is one that you will not mistake for a different person's handiwork.

Hi! Could I request hcs abt platonic modern AU Childe reacting to roommate/best friend (gn) reader feeling down and how would he try to cheer them up? Thank you!

cheer up, buttercup

summary: after an awful day, you find yourself in a gloomy mood for no reason. luckily for you, your roommate is here to help cheer you up! well, at least they try to! (it’s the thought that counts)

masterlist

pairing: platonic!childe, scaramouche, and la signora  x reader

reader info: gender neutral pronouns (they/them), reader is their roommate and friend, platonic nicknames (buttercup, idiot)

word count: 966 words

genre: modern au, platonic, comfort

format: headcanons

warnings: toxic positivity (if you really squint) from childe, mentions of scara almost “taking care of” whoever made you sad, swearing, scara grabbing reader’s wrist, signora not understanding why you’re sad, reader is just having an “off” day, reader is sad/cries  

a/n: ahhh! my first request! thank you to the lovely soul who sent this in, sorry it’s so late (your patience is appreciated)💖 i got really inspired and felt like adding two other fatui members, so i hope that’s okay! i really hope this is what you wanted, and i apologise if it isn’t 💖

childe has come home late. again.

he cracked the door open slowly, hoping that if you were asleep he wouldn’t wake you up

as he tip toes into the doorway, he hears some muffled sobbing 

childe looks in the direction it came from, and sees you sitting on the couch crying

on the inside, childe is ready to start a fight with whoever or whatever made you sad

but, childe keeps up the act of being a good and caring friend for your sake (and whoever made you sad, theoretically)

he stops sneaking around and sits down on the couch with you, concern  present on his face

he tries to get you to open up, and at some point stops you from wiping away all the tears that fall down your cheeks

childe keeps asking if you’re okay, if something happened when he was away, and if you wanted some water

you only answer one of his questions, and childe quickly goes to the kitchen for a glass

when he does return, you’ve calmed down a bit and taken some deep breaths

once again childe asks if you’re okay and if something happened while he was away

when you do eventually open up, childe just listens and nods. a few times he refrains from commenting and interrupting you, understanding that it’s your turn to speak

after you’re all done talking, childe smiles at you

he suggest going out some lunch and shopping tomorrow, assuring you that’ll he would pay

when you agree, childe breaks out into an ecstatic grin

“Alright! Now, let’s get you ready for bed. I have some big plans for us tomorrow, buttercup. We’re going to have so much fun that you’ll forget all about your worries. I promise.”

[scaramouche and la signora under the cut]

scaramouche was really late coming home, but he didn’t really care at all

you both have horrible sleeping habits, and he just knew you’d still be awake

which was enough for scara to go into a long-winded rant about how shitty his day was

you swore that he could wake up the neighbours with how loud he got

by the time scara finished putting away his coat and boots as he ranted, he finally looked over to you for a reaction

what he saw was something... unexpected

you were... crying? why? what happened? did someone hurt you?

hundreds of thoughts were going through his head, freezing him in place

but he finally snapped out of it when you began to apologise and started to wipe away your tears

scara grabbed your wrist, trying to stop you from covering up your emotions

for once, scara has this human look in his eye 

he sits down next to you and asks- no, demands you tell him who or what hurt you

if you just explain to him that you’re just feeling sad, he’ll calm down 

scara was prepared to send out a few goons after someone, but he stuffs his phone away before you can see that

he’ll hold off from insulting you, as its his natural instinct, and begrudgingly ask if you could talk about it

when scara shuts up, he is a surprisingly good listener. he nods along and does his best not to interrupt

once you finish talking, scara has this fierce look in his eye 

he wishes that you could have talked about this sooner with him, but scara does understand that it’s difficult to do that

he’s not the best at comforting others, and usually just applies what works for him onto others

and luckily for scara, a trip to McDoanld’s at three am in the morning works just as well on you as it does him

“Come on, let’s go, in the car. No, this isn’t a kidnapping, idiot. This is called “me taking care of my friend.” Now if you want McDoanld’s, hop in the car already.”

signora was actually just having some coffee, taking in the silence after a long day of work

then you come sulking past the kitchen doorway, straight to your room

she’s a bit surprised, she didn’t even realise you had come home yet

and something wasn’t right. usually you would at least say hi to her and grab a cup of coffee, but you straight out ignored her

signora is a bit offended, i mean, she was actually going to make you a cup of coffee just now to welcome you home and you just ignored her? how dare you

she stomps over to your room, ready to give you a piece of her mind when she hears sniffling through your door

signora halts, and before she can stop herself she whispers your name

it’s not that signora hates comforting people... but she hates comforting people

but you’re her friend and roommate, she has no choice but to make an exception 

signora leans against the door as she asks you to open up emotionally, taking a large sip of her coffee

while you talk, all she does is nod, hum, and sip. 

she does secretly think to herself that it’s ridiculous that you’re sad without reason. signora tries to help you find a reason, but you just openly admit that you’re just feeling really sad... for no reason

signora doesn’t get it at all, but she tries for you

when you’ve finished, she’s trying to think of something (anything really) that could easily solve your problem and brighten your mood

but nothing comes to her mind that would help you

“Look, I don’t really know how to comfort people. This is kind of hard for me, but I’m more than willing to try and help you. Just...  just tell me what you need and its yours, okay? Great. Now will you please come out and say hi to me, I missed you today!”

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

SCARAMOUCHE MY PLATONIC BELOVED. IMMORTAL!READER. Imagine Scaramouche having attachment issues with your friendship because he's a harbinger and he's afraid that you'll betray him by dying because all mortals do is die according to him but unknowingly to him you're actually immortal too.

You just casually snacking with that loud CruNch whenever he's being emo and alone having his monologue about mortality and so on. Do you want to tell him? Yes. Is his attitude too annoying for you to say anything to him rn? Yes. ☂️

I swear his eye twitches when you crunch and his whole rant is thrown off. THIS IS SERIOUS, can't you tell he's in distress??

He's gonna be upset you didn't tell him sooner but he'll get over it

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

We had zhongli as a big brother, now I'm presenting:

scaramouche as a big brother, and that includes sharing mommy issues

.💭

ah, yes, the shortie with anger and mommy issues himself. anon, be honest, do you actually want this man as your older brother because i'd be concerned (/j).

1) communicating through insults. if there is ever such a thing as an allergy to speech, he'd definitely be allergic to each one besides sarcastic remarks and jibes. that is the language he is most fluent in, alright? deal with it.

2) concern hidden in plain sight. he looks out for you from afar such as dispatching a subordinate to report your status to him without your knowledge or making sure that there's nothing in your way — he plays it off, though. scara claims it's because he "can't trust you for one second", but it really is because he's a little worried that you're getting roped into some stupid trouble.

3) the mommy issues... he'd prefer if you don't, or better, never bring up that god in any conversations with him. he doesn't want to be reminded of her in any way, he doesn't need words of comfort nor can he offer them to someone else, even you. all he can do is to let you deal with them on your own because that is how he deals with his feelings on that wretched event in his history. (wdym sibling therapy sessions? nah, we don't need that <3 /j)

thundersoother

(when lightning strikes, nothing can stop it.)

word count: 233

trigger warning: none

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

part two (send me an ask to be tagged!)

It was long ago when he last stepped in the nation he once called home - the nation that was once supposed to be under his rule.

He remembered admiring the mighty Mount Yougou from afar. Wondering if the pink petals of the sacred sakura tree were as soft as the veil he wore.

The first time he saw it up-close was now, and although the full moon above it made for a glorious sight, he did not come here for the view.

"The time has finally come," his words are haughty in its delivery, overflowing with pride, "I've made you wait long enough, haven't I?"

Only silence followed his words. The figure under the tree remained still, her back to him, as if deaf to all the sounds around her.

Somewhat irked, he called once more, "oh, dear sister, are you angry at me?"

And her answer was voiced, near as cold as her cryo Vision.

"You are not welcome here, Balladeer."

The blue gem glinted coldly, contrasting the searing heat that simmered in his chest. Her body shifted gently like branches against the wind, and he expected her to show the same stoicity she always had; one of the many things that reminded him of their mother.

When she turned, however, her visage showed anything but.

"Not anymore."

The despicable human feeling returned, and he will rid of it no matter the cost.

part two

she-on, 10:57 PM, 12/12/2022

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [platonic]

warnings; scaramouche and reader are siblings, scaramouche kinda a PLATONIC yandere, lil bit of blood not descriptive, spoilers for inazuma archon quest and raiden ei and yae mikos voice lines, canon-typical violence.

sypnosis; doing your daily chores as a shrine maiden, you never expected to run into a stranger along the desolate path.

You never truly liked your mother.

She had her favourites, and you and your brother were most definitely not it. No, it was your glorious younger sister who was.

Your mother was busy, too busy to say hello and goodnight. Too busy to care. Too busy to simply let you be a child. To let you cry and smile and laugh, to let you run in muddy puddles and draw on the walls - no, no such intolerance would be allowed. The second you showed anything, you would so lucky not to end up like your brother: cast out, left abandoned and treated like dirt on the bottom of your mother's shoe. So, you shut down, only doing what told off you and otherwise acting invisible, it became a habit after while.

Your brother is gone, one day he and mother went out for a walk and only she returned. She refused to talk apon the subject. She seemed sour at the mere mention of his name, turning to conceal what she truly thought. You never saw your brother again, but he saw you.

Your younger sister held a similiar fate to your brother, she too disappeared on the night the sky itself got confined in it's stormy shackles. You missed her dearly, despite how she reminded you of your mother, at least your sister was there for you.

Your mother was gone now, and all that was left was thing you were meant to call your mother. Your sister.

The moment your aunt took you see her one day, you had been excited but when you laid eyes up in that husk of your sibling, you cried. And the husk watched without an ounce of sympathy - too much like your mother, too far from your sister - and your aunt had to hush you.

You had to live with this husk for 500 years. It was odd, originally you refused to be in the same room as it, but when the thing that took over the body of your sister disappeared, you would be granted with her smiles all over again. She became tolerable, until your aunt whisked you away by command of the Shogun.

Now you lived with your aunt.

It wasn't so bad here. The shrine was sacred grounds to people of Inazuma, yet you could not feel the same about it. Your aunt often caught you staring at the Sakura Tree, and you could see from your peripheral vision as her eyes would soften and then she would avoid you for a few hours. You never did much - that was what you were raised to do - and that's why you guessed your aunt often looked so miserable when she gazed at you.

You never visited the city again, not that you couldn't, you merely refused to. Your brother was taken from you, your sister - could you even be call her that anymore? - was gone and your mother had abandoned you. All you had was your aunt and these damn redwood yumemiru walls.

"Oh [name], dearest. Can you please inform the shrine maidens at the base of mountain that their shift is almost over? Thank you. "

End of discussion, without a word you left with a polite bow and gracious steps. It was like almost every day. Now, your aunt was too busy. You feared it would be the same repetitive cycle all over again as you walked down the crooked steps of the mountain. The sun had nearly set, the fortune slips that had been hung glistening in the suns glow as you walked past them. You loved the orange and yellow hues of sky, it so deeply opposed your mother's hair you couldn't help but let a smile come across your features as you looked at it.

As you reached the base of the mountain nearby to Chinju Forest, the suns warmth seemed to vanish as if it had been repelled by some invisible force. The Forest was silent as you wandered near the old shrine location, desolate of all life. Not even a Tanuki made itself known, but you supposed, maybe they had tired-out from hiding all day.

The shrine maidens weren't at their posts.

You thought for a moment, maybe they knew that the sun setting meant they could go home, but alas, they always waited for you. Maybe, they were called to the village to help with offerings. Or maybe you had pasted them on your way down the path and didn't notice.

You frowned gently before you felt a presence behind you. You were about you turn around and greet the shrine maiden, only for goosebumps to rake your arms, and this clawing darkness to hang over your head, consuming you with bone-racking fear. You could feel the eyes of the forest, or was it this mystery thing behind you, watching every twitch of your finger.

Put on a smile, said your training as you turned around. Just politely excuse yourself then vow to never set foot out of the main shrines land. Something inside of you yearned for it to be nothing, but you were never so lucky.

The other person made eye contact with you before you did and before you knew it, you were locked in this tense staring match between each other.

Purple eyes peered into your soul, despite this mans small stature, he towered over you as you averted your eyes first.

"Are you lost, sir?" You asked, if auntie heard you left someone alone without offering assistance you would never hear the end of it.

Waiting for his response you observed him, he was still staring at you. He looked so... Blank, like a fresh canvas ready to be painted only something told you that the canvas' freedom of possibilities had been smeared with a corroding soul-taking black. But, this is your paranoia over talking to a new person, for all you know he is the sweetest, most kindest man-

"No, I know this place like the back of my hand."

He did not sound happy. His face showed nothing but his clothes showed off his riches in royal purple and red robes dragged across his body which ended in shorts near his knees. Maybe.. He was a merchant wanting good luck from the shrine?

You nodded to him, you talked to him and tried to help therefore auntie wouldnt be too mad right? (Like asking one simple question is enough) You set off toward the crooked steps once again with your head low in respect as you walked past the old shrine.

"Can I help you?"

You knew he walking beside you. You could feel him without having the look at him. You couldn't even hear his foot-falls, it was as if he was dead as he took striding steps next to you. His presence was overbearing, familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time.

"Suppose you could help me, would you?"

Could he not get the point? It was night-time and he was asking such crytic questions, but you continued on towards the path as you answered with a fake smile, "Of course I would. It's my duty as a Shrine Maiden." - you would have continued onwards with the mantra of 'and as a follower of the Electro Archon' but you couldn't bring yourself to even acknowledge her.

"I hate liars." Rang his cocky voice throughout the slumbering trees with such low rumbling anger that you froze on the spot. But he continued on walking up the incline, almost as if oblivious to your condition as he lumbered forwards before turning around and facing you again. "Come on, [name], haven't I always told you that. "

"I.. I wasn't lying. And how did you know my name!-" you demanded, this boy was starting to annoy you, now only was he now in the way of your way home but also continued on with charade of an innocent man. Did he know you from the shrine? Maybe you had talked to him before on a busy day and forgotten-

"Whatever do you mean, you told me when you first introduced yourself."

A boy in a white robe gazed curiosily up at you, your hand clasped with your mother's as she spoke, "meet your younger sibling kunikuzushi."

You both stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence before mother squeezed your hand, too tight for your comfort. Oh, wait that's right, your supposed to- "Hello, my name is [name]. Please look after me." -introduce yourself.

Your mother let go of your hand, seemingly pleased with herself as she left the room with a small schlik sliding of the wooden door panel. You made no move to acknowledge the throbbing of your now red hand, but the boy had different ideas as he grasped it in his own to take a closer look at it.

His long purple hair rippled down his back as he turn your hand over to see the other side it. He looked so pretty but the gentle furrow of his brows upset you, it didn't suit him at all.

"It doesn't hurt, I am fine." You spoke with disdain as you snatched your hand out his gentle grasp, or tried to, as he held firmly to your wrist. He finally meet your gaze, and his gleaming eyes spoke volumes as if he was trying to decipher everything at once.

"Don't lie to me." He said with a smile as he let go your hand. A smile looked better on his face than a frown, yet you found it weird to see one. Was everyone meant to smile?

He didn't say another word to you until your mother came back.

Only now that the mysterious man that followed you could you make out any detail about his appearance. How the red of his robes seemed more and more like blood rather than paint or robes as he got closer and closer, the scent of copper hitting your nose like a truck. How his eyes glowed and his sharp features stared at you again, only different, with something you couldnt quite place within his eyes.

You stumbled back as if hit by a force, your hand launching to cradle your sore head, the another seeking something to try and stabilize your self on, when you couldn't, you tripped on the skirt of your long shrine maiden robes, landing on your bum with a thud. You hazingly blinked around, no longer seeing the young boy in a dark room but a moon-luminanted forest, what was that right now?..

You had no time to ponder as the light seemed to be taken away, so you looked see what had caused it.

That was why he was so familiar, as it clicked in your head you mumbled out his name, "Kunikuzushi... "

He clicked his tongue as he crouched before you, the moons glow still swallowed by his frame, "Took you long enough, huh. That's no good... And here I thought you were the smart one. Seems although I will just have to look after you, won't I?"

Maybe you should had listened to your gut before and not been deceived by looks of an innocent boy and be laboured by your training from your aunt. Maybe you should have plead ignorance to his arrival, or maybe you should have payed more attention to your surrondings. For if you had, surely you would have noticed the torn bloody piece of white cloth blowing in the wind attached to the fortune slip stand, left to guard the nightmare of the Balladeer.

Scaramouche with a Child!Sibling!Reader

You paint your big brother's nails.

Strictly platonic. Fem reader. Spoilers for Scara's real name. Nail salon vocabulary has links for examples.

Even though you're the younger sister of the big bad Scaramouche, you were pretty timid and quiet.

You cared for your big brother, you wanted the absolute best for him. He cared for you, and took you along with him to find a home in the fatui.

Unlike your brother, you didn't get any special training. You never became a fatui harbinger. Kunikuzushi changed, but not around you.

He holds you dear to him, his precious baby sister. Scaramouche tries so hard to shelter you from this stupid evil world.

Even though you're around 10–13, you paint nails without any flaws. People would see you with different, beautiful, exotic, creative nails, basically changing every week.

You decided to own a small business in Inazuma to earn Mora, even though you don't need any because of your brother's work (And considering your young age).

When Scaramouche obtained the Inazuma archon's gnosis, he fled to your nail shop to tell you that he doesn't have much time to stay.

You heard the door to your nail salon open. "Ah... we're closed—" You looked up from your last customer's hand, which you were still holding. There stood your big brother.

You smiled. "Just a few minutes, I'm almost done," You reassured him, and continued working. Scaramouche looked at you with soft eyes, then glared at the customer, making sure they know how much he hates them for taking up your time.

Scaramouche sat down on the sofa.

When you finished, your customer handed you the Mora and took off. You sat down next to your big brother.

"What happened today?" You almost whispered, looking up at him. Your big brother rest his arm behind you on the couch casually. "I've obtained the gnosis."

...Huh? Your brother has the gnosis belonging to your creator? "We don't have much time. We better go soon, around midnight." He stared at the clock in the room. 9:32 pm.

You looked down at his hand resting on his lap. You wanted to do something before escaping Inazuma, anything memorable... Oh.

You took your big brother's hand, the one that was behind you on the couch, holding it with both of your hands. You spread his fingers out, observing his nails. You looked up at him innocently.

"Can I paint them..?" You brushed one of your thumbs over his hand, gently.

If you were just some random Inazuman merchant, Scaramouche would've snapped you're neck his hand away from your grasp. But, you're his baby sister. He can't resist you. Plus, you're acting so adorable right now.

"Fine. Don't take too long."

You led him to sit on the chair infront of the table, where you work.

The scent of nail polish engulfed him. Scaramouche has long since associated this smell with you. Whenever he smells this, he thinks that you, his little sister, is around. It's pretty wholesome, if you ask me.

You gathered your supplies and sat down, taking your big brother's hand. Your hands were so small compared to his.

Starting off with the emery board, you were careful to be gentle and not hurt him. Scaramouche rests his whole hand, to make it easier for you.

Scaramouche decided to take a look at your supplies set on the table. He spotted the essentials, more complicated tools, nail polish, accessories.

He then looks at you. "You know what style you want for me?" He asks you, resting his head on his free hand. "Mhmm, it's a surprise— Well. I guess it can't be a surprise, but I'm not telling you," You answer, gesturing to switch his hands.

Your big brother places his hand in your smaller ones. "I see feminine accessories. Kind of scared what you might do," He half–joked.

"Hmhm, well you should always worry when I paint nails. Especially yours." Scaramouche let out a little 'Hah' in response.

Scaramouche thinks you carefully holding each finger in place, bringing them up to your face so you could see clearly, and holding his hand was just too adorable.

He trusts you completely, to the point where Scaramouche tries not to look at his hands, so it can stay a surprise.

Then you pluck out some accessories from your little kit... Along with the glue.

You carefully place a couple on his nails. After that, you gave a little blow on his nails and placed them inside your nail polish dryer.

It burnt for a second, but Scaramouche got used to it. While waiting for his nails to dry, you stood up to set your supplies away.

Scaramouche looked at the time. 10:56 pm. One more hour until you two have to go.

You sat back down infront of him and gestured for one of his hands. After checking that they were dry, you told your big brother that they're done.

Now, you've painted your big brother's nails a thousand times before. But only when you were just starting out, though. You stopped painting his nails to start your small business.

Scaramouche hasn't seen any of your progress recently, he doesn't even really pay attention to your own nails. But when he pulled both hands back to look at his nails... Kunikuzushi went silent.

They were so pretty. His nails looked like they were taken care of by the most advanced manicure in Teyvat. His jaw dropped a bit as he stared at his hands. Since when have you improved this much?

...Scaramouche feels guilty. He was barely around to witness all of his little sister's progress. He realizes just how little time he spends with you. He doesn't notice his eyes water, until you wrap your little arms around his shoulders, tucking his head towards your chest.

"I'm so proud of you, big brother." You wanted Scaramouche to know how much you adore him, how brave he is, how strong and fearful he is in and out of his work with the fatui.

But... Why were you proud of him? Scaramouche didn't do anything to earn your respect. At least, that's what he thinks. Kunikuzushi should've been with you every step of the way. Why did he notice his mistake just now?

Kunikuzushi gently returns your hug. His tears finally fall when you start petting his head gently. Archons, what did he do to deserve a younger sister as sweet and caring as you?

He won't make this mistake again. Scaramouche will take care of you, take on his role as your big brother, without relying on the fatui.

Hear me out, plat yan Scaramouche with a darling who got hurt by others before, therefore she only trusts him. Scaramouche was happy since he didn't have to do the dirty work of getting darling to rely on him, but the happiness was short-lived until he found out that his darling caught Pantalone's attention. Plat yan Scara being protective and possessive, and a really jealous Pantalone since darling clings to Scaramouche for comfort. ⭐

Omg it would be absolute chaos 😭😭

I can see Scara and darling just going out to spend the day together and Pantalone showing up out of the blue and trying to butt in. And then he insists on buying literally everything to try and show off to darling and Scara simply not having it 😭

They would walk in a line with Scara in the middle as a physical barrier between Pantalone and darling and anytime Pantalone speaks, Scara is interrupting him or answering for darling. And the whole conversation between those two would be so passive aggressive, fake smiles and all. They don’t wanna upset or make darling uncomfortable by starting a fight in the middle of the street, but that’s not gonna stop them from throwing thinly veiled insults at each other at every opportunity

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

This is a rewrite of an old fic!

Summary: Upon your creation you are deemed unworthy by your creator; your mother. You are sent hand in hand to face the world of Teyvat and it's challenges until it forces your brother to change forever to protect you...

Pairings: Scaramouche/Kunikuzushi x Sibling!Fem!reader - platonic!

Notes/warnings: Fem reader! Reader is said to somewhat resemble Ei! Spoilers for Scaramouche and Ei's back story, but it's changed in this story! Unhealthy family relationships and dynamics! Child abandonment! Small mentions of death (not reader or Scara!)

Kunikuzushi - as he would later be named, came into this world as a mere experiment into the making of living puppets; created by the Electro Archon Raiden Ei. Due to it being her first time creating a puppet she somewhat tested the limits of it; thus making Kunikuzushi quite different from her, but he still resembled her enough to be recognized as her kin.

She hadn't expected much from the first try, but she was still disappointed that he didn't turn out perfect or the way she had imagined him to be. He was too emotional; too human for her desired outcome. An imperfection in her eyes and thus unfit to be the holder of her Gnosis or rule Inazuma. He was quickly left behind, but not discarded.

This disappointment did not deter her, as she tried again with more knowledge and experience. This time the puppet would be designed and created with her desired outcome in mind. Thus she created you, but even you weren't what she deemed to be worthy. You resembled her like a daughter would resemble their mother and you were not as openly emotional as her first creation, but it wasn't good enough. You weren't good enough in her eyes...

What Ei seeked was a clone-like puppet void of all emotions and humanity so it's judgement or obedience couldn't be clouded by them. All so she could pull it's strings and make it dance while she hid behind the curtain; locked away in the plane of Euthymia for all eternity. Neither of you fit into these standards and thus had no place in her vision of Eternity.

So you were cast out; simply thrown away like used toy's after she finished playing with them. In her eyes this was a kindness, as she "allowed" you to live freely as humans and choose your own path. It was more akin to guilt; like she felt she owed this to you because of her failure's. Perhaps a part of her had that motherly instinct that recognized you two as her children - thus she could never kill you, but neither could she keep you. You would never know for sure..

Together you would stumble throughout the lands of Inazuma as wanderer's, endlessly seeking for something unknown as you had no destination or goal. You were like to newborns that could walk and talk, yet knew nothing of the world you lived in. What were you seeking? A home? Some meaning in life? A purpose? But if your own creator; your own mother could turn you away - what purpose could your life possibly serve?

Throughout your journey you became somewhat known as others saw you as strange and unusual due to your unique clothing and behavior; people would refer to you as the "Kabukimono Twins". Though you weren't twins in reality you never corrected them as telling humans the truth of your nature would not only be difficult, but potentially dangerous for you. "Twins" was simply easier as neither of you aged and some of your features were similiar enough to mistake you two for real twins!

Despite how careful you tried to be, your journey always ended in disaster and heartbreak. Those around you would either betray you or die; though your brother saw their death as another form of betrayal. Especially with the human boy you lived with for a time, he was sick and you all knew this; but he had promised you would be a family - together forever! He was the one who gave you your names, so his death truly changed your lives forever...

You might have not noticed it or tried not to, but all your hardships had forever changed your brother. He became colder, more suspicious and distrusting of others; he would often scare them away with his paranoia. He smiled less and the sound of his laughter became like a distant memory... It saddened you greatly, but it was what he had to do to make sure you would never be betrayed again and to keep you safe.

You were the only one to never betray him and the only constant in this miserable life you lived. He knew he could always count on you to stay by his side no matter what, but he was becoming more paranoid the longer your journey went on. He kept having nightmares of loosing you or you joining with the rest of the world in betraying him. He wouldn't let you do that to him, he couldn't...

In a twisted sense he was glad you were meek and depended on him for almost everything. It greatly lowered the chances of you being able to betray him, unless you were influenced by someone else; which he wouldn't allow to happen. You barely interacted with humans anymore and when you did it was Kunikuzushi who would do the talking for both of you. Either way your own fear of abandonment and betrayal would nake it impossible for you to even consider doing it to someone else, especially him of all people.

As he descended from his hopeful, happy and naive personality; he would come to cherish it in you. He wanted to protect this part of you at all costs, to keep it intact... You could somehow still see the world in that sweet innocent way, even after all you have been through. He couldn't afford to do so anymore or you would be put in danger and be taken advantage of, but it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make for you.

Somewhere along the line he became obsessed with the thought of gaining the Gnosis of your creator and becoming a God; something Ei thought him to be incapable of being. He wanted to prove her and the entire world wrong! He convinced you that with the Gnosis he would have enough power to protect you from everything; so nothing could hurt you ever again. You of course trusted him wholeheartedly and agreed.

It wasn't long after the boy's death that you were taken in by the Fatui and transported far from the land of your birth to the cold land of Snezhnaya. Things changed much then as he was made the Sixth Harbinger and named Scaramouche or The Balladeer, but he would still have you call him Kunikuzushi in private. You also saw each other much less as he was busy traveling around Teyvat on the Tsaritsa's orders and you were left in the Zapolyarny Palace all alone to wait for him as he couldn't trust anyone else to look after you.

He didn't care for the Tsaritsa or his colleagues, so he wasn't opposed to defending you by any means necessary if needed. They were a nice benefit to furthering his goals of gaining his creator's Gnosis and giving you the life you were deprived of; the life you deserved. You were the light in his darkness, his only reason to go on and he wouldn't let anything take that from him. Even if it meant locking you up with only him to talk to when he was available...

He never let you see this side of him; this new him. You never met Scaramouche The Balladeer, in your eyes he would only ever be your darling brother Kunikuzushi. The Fatui along with it's Harbingers essentially hated and despised him; as he was rude and never in a good mood. He would often yell or shout for any reason and at anyone if they displeased him or simply existed in his presence when he was in a bad mood; which was more often than not. While with you he was sweet and gentle, making jokes and doing menial tasks to keep you entertained like games, art and enjoying tea with snacks.

He was a completely different person when he was with you; you brought out the last piece of Kunikuzushi he had left in him. He would only let you know of and keep this side of him alive. As soon as he left your room he would turn back into the ruthless and cruel Balladeer, but every sacrifice and ounce of blood he had to spill was worth it if it meant he could give you the life you had only ever dreamed of. It was all worth it if he could see you smile and happy while proving to your creator that she was wrong about both of you...

A/N: I've been wanting to rewrite this for a long while now! The original was fine, but I feel my current writing helps to bring out more from the story and make it more alive :D

Feel free to like, comment and or reblog! Any interaction with this post is greatly appreciated <3

WHAT A PAIN ...

Scaramouche x child!gn!reader

This is strictly platonic !

TW: mention of human experiment, abuse, occ scara

You were one of dottore's experiments.

It isn't really as fun as he promised. Not to mention you were one of his best ones considering you survived most of his tests from ever since you were 6. You tried to run away before but of course he managed to catch you.

But that doesn't mean you wouldn't do it again.

here you are, running non-stop. Trying your best to not to be seen by any one, but your luck isn't really heavenly..

You ended up bumping into the balladeer, what a good day. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in dottore's lap?" He questioned. He actually tried not to scare you but his wish wasn't granted seeing that you tried to scoot away from him. "Uhm...I.." you couldn't form a word by the way he was glaring down at you. "P-PLEASE, DON'T BRING ME BACK THERE, I...I DON'T WANNA!" You didn't have a choice. All you could do is beg and whine for him not to take you back. And that caught him off guard, but again, this is dottore were talking about here, who wouldn't? Back to you, Scaramouche didn't actually know what to do. He may seem like a cruel person but he's been in your place before.. "Sigh, come here" huh..? He wasn't going to send you back? You were certainly confused but anything is better than that cruel place. He managed to sneak you in his office. And now you find yourself sitting by his side while he does paperwork, it is boring just to sit there and see him do work, but you'd rather do that then be used as an experiment again. So you just sat there obediently waiting for him to finish. Scaramouche knew that he had to give you back since dottore held more authority over him, but the way you seemed so scared back there just made him do this without thinking and he didn't seem to mind your company that much, oh how he wanted to take you from him. He'll have to try and ask to tsaritsa later... Wait- why is he thinking like that!? You're just a child who ended up in the fatui's grasp, and he just met you! You're really something, maybe it's something you did to him that made him even take you to his office? Like brainwashing? I mean you are one of dottore's "special" experiments, or- "m-mister? Are you alright?.." a quite voice suddenly took him away from his thoughts "hm? What do you mean?" "Well you s-suddenly starting staring at me, so I thought..uhm.." oh, he was too deep in his thoughts to notice he was staring- well glaring at you. "No, it's nothing. I just spaced out, that's all" now you were scared. Was he thinking about making you his experiment? Or maybe you did something wrong? Negative thoughts filled your head that you started shaking more. Scaramouche noticed that something was wrong. "What's with you? Why are.. crying" you didn't even notice that you were infact crying. The harbinger now thinks HE did something wrong. Maybe, he scared you too much? Archons, he can't believe his doing this.. "t-there, there.." he was petting your hair, trying his best to calm you down. If you told someone that the balladeer, the 6th harbinger would be nervous because of a child, they'll be laughing at your face, but here he is. He himself couldn't believe it, him? Nervous? What a joke. It's not really funny now.. You didn't know if it was right to do this but you were too sad to think about your actions. You jumped on his lap and starting cuddling him... You were showing little to no respect to him right now, but he didn't push you away. He continued petting your head for a while until he realized you were asleep. Archons, now he either have to pick you up or wait for you to wake up. He ended up picking you up to the couch in his office for you to sleep more comfortably, but you didn't want to let him go, you were clinging to him like a koala. So, he didn't have a choice but to cuddle you in the couch. What a pain ...

Hello! I hope this was good (⁠〃ﾟ⁠3ﾟ⁠〃⁠) !! Hope you have a good day <33

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.

hihi i requested that scara and little sibling reader a little while ago and i loved it sm!! so here i am Requesting Again…. could you do something with scara/wanderer and a child little sibling kinda like the rly cute kaveh fic you reblogged where they ask him to do their hair? except he’s like uuuugggghhhhhhh 🙄🙄 fiiiine 😒😒 but while he’s doing it he’s actually super gentle and sweet about it despite trying not show it ^^

hairstyling.

summary. scaramouche and the wanderer style their sibling's hair.

trigger & content warnings. none applicable.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. scaramouche & child!reader, wanderer & child!reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is vaguely connected to what's with this sassy, lost child? but can be read as a standalone. author's thoughts. hello anon!! its lovely to see you again, please do feel free to request anytime <3 also you're so right that kaveh fic is so cute it deserves so many reblogs (me when i promote my mutual's work.... /lh).

scaramouche and the wanderer style [name]'s hair. how does it go?

scaramouche.

the balladeer seems annoyed when they meekly ask him to do their hair, his brow twitching. he's a busy man, you know? he doesn't have the time to spare for such simple tasks that they should easily be able to do on their own. it's their hair; why should he have to do it? they're big enough to know how to brush and style their hair, surely.

nevertheless, he scoffs, beckoning them over seemingly begrudgingly, as if this is the most demanding and inconveniencing thing they've ever asked of him.

he seems so aggravated, and yet...

it's with gentle, tender, patient fingers that he works apart the tangles in their hair. he never pulls hard, never gets angry and never just tears their knots apart with no regard to how such roughness would damage both them and their hair.

he's patient... but only to an extent.

he's patient when he begins slowly dragging the brush through their locks, soft when they whine about it hurting as his patience inevitably begins to run thin causing him to brush a little harder (though he doesn't outwardly apologize, he does get noticeably slower). despite his best efforts, the balladeer is impatient by nature. he can't maintain such a state forever.

their scalp would certainly be sore by the end, but their hair is prettily styled.

their big brother is not perfect, but he tries.

the wanderer.

the wanderer is gentler than the balladeer.

he's still rough around the edges, offering a scoff and some half-hearted complaint about how they can't do anything by themselves, but his faux irritation fades quickly into warmth as they settle down in front of him. he makes sure that they're comfortable before he begins.

he still works apart the tangles just as gently as before, but now...

the wanderer is somehow different than the balladeer. he's healing. he's recovering. slowly, he's coming back in touch with kunikuzushi, the innocent, doe-eyed, curious and kind side of himself, even if he still doesn't like to admit it. even if he still refuses to acknowledge that he was once like that. even if the rest of teyvat except the traveller, paimon, [name], and nahida has forgotten...

he's patient, genuinely patient.

the world is cruel, far too cruel for his sibling to handle, far too cruel for kunikuzushi to handle. he'd be damned if he displayed any of that cruelness towards them, even when doing something as simple as brushing their hair.

cruelty ruined him. it won't ruin them.

he offers short breaks when their scalp begins to get a bit too sensitive and sore to his motions, sharing a zaytun peach with them and asking how they want their hair styled. he takes note of their response and commits it to memory, ensuring that he doesn't get too focused and forgets their desires as a consequence.

his kindness is for their eyes to witness and their eyes only (and nahida's, he guesses...).

by the end, their scalp is pain-free and their hair is styled prettily.

the wanderer is not perfect, but he is at his best when it involves his baby sibling.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝗣𝗢𝗩: 𝗬𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴

ft. platonic bnha, jjk & genshin impact

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

a/n: if this flops I will sue Tumblr because I thought of this at 1am.

Dabi always grins at you when he sees you, without fail. You've been there for him ever since you two crossed paths, and oh how proud he is to call you his best friend - he just would never tell you that.

Bakugou rolls his eyes when he sees you coming, yet proceeds to stroll behind you when you two walk together. He's decided he actually likes letting his guard down a little bit when it comes to you.

Endeavor shouts for you whenever you aren't within 10ft of his radius. [NAMEEEEEEE]! He also talks about, if you aren't married yet, how he'd be the best man of honour ever, or even the best maid of honour! So if you ever need one...

Scaramouche likes to pull on the back of your chair to make you fall, like the menace that he is, and pretend that he didn't do shit. However if you do get hurt, he give you a quick pat on the shoulder as a silent apology.

Childe slings an arm around your shoulder ever time he sees you, smiles, and waffles to you about his day, about how he had some new recruits and all that fuckery. Hopefully you like listening, because he's about to talk your ear off.

Zhongli feels great pride in calling you his closest companion, especially since he's managed to get over Guizhong with your help. You're one of the only people he shares the "memories" with, and can make him really laugh after a long day's work. First one to finish their Osmanthus wine has to pay the bill!

Gojo is canonically an icon, and he likes to make you look like one too! This means dress up time, and a pair of his own sunglasses on your eyes to complete the look. Fabulous 👌

Nanami is like a father figure to most of the first and second years, so you'll obviously be a parental figure too! Depending on who you like, he'll tease you just a teensy bit, only because you tease him about Gojo and that one doctor who made him blush in S1.

Yuuji jumps on your back all the time, you never see it coming, and drags you to places he wants to go. Having to deal with Sukuna makes you immune to insults and even gives you the upper hand when it comes to comebacks. (You two have matching hoodies.)

Hello!!!! I really liked the Diluc and Xiao w a teenage reader (not in any weird ways lol it was very nice to read and great plot) If its okay can you continue it, maybe with more characters or just a continuing of the fic w the same characters, purely platonic nothing weird, anything works really!!! I'd just live to see more of it! ♡

Scaramouche + Zhongli with a Teenager!Reader Part 2

Hi, thank you. If you want me to continue a character's part then you can just ask me.

Previous part here. Next part here.

Strictly platonic, mentions of Y/n being abused. Spoilers for Liyue and Inazuma archon quest.

Scaramouche:

You hated the people at home. They did... weird things to you. You felt lost, was a child supposed to go through this stuff? You spent your time in adolescence with them, suffering but still getting through it.

When you grew more and became more self aware, you realized the people at home didn't care for you, they were just using you, punishing you to make you think you were such a bad child. You fell for it, pushing yourself to reach their expectations.

You trusted them, that they would treat you better if you became better. You became the best person you could be for them, but they still treat you the same. Careless, violent, close minded. Only behind closed doors. Those people at home.

Outside, there were much nicer people in a much nicer environment. You weren't sure if you could trust those nice people. Were they just acting nice outside but completely different inside?

You really felt lost. Would you really spend your entire life in paranoia?

Deciding to take a walk, you got pretty lost. It was afternoon, a couple of hours until only the stars would lend you light. You thought about the people who you saw everyday at home. What would it be like if things were different? Is it too late for things to change?

The sky was a little too dark for you to notice a tall man with dark clothes and a mask walk up to you. "Hey, you. You're not supposed to be here." You heard someone with a very intimidating voice.

—

Scaramouche assigned some of his subordinates to be put on patrol for today. He decided it would be good to check up on them, since he hasn't heard anything from them since early morning.

He was walking, seeing if anything suspicious was around the patrolling area. Occasionally, he would spot one of his servants and they would tell Scaramouche what they discovered. It was a pretty normal check up.

The Balladeer was about done. Just two more underlings to meet up with. He spotted one of them in the distance, seeming to get violent with someone. It was probably a drunk adult that trespassed and was disobeying the fatui.

When Scaramouche looked closer, he noticed that you, the trespasser, was still pretty young. If you were just a drunk adult that angered a subordinate, he would leave the two of you be. Scaramouche stopped walking and observed, witnessing every move his subordinate did to you.

Wait. Why would someone, even if it was an angered fatui member, attack a child? He heared your pained whimpers and your pleas to stop. It's like you knew exactly what to say, even though the violent servant was not stopping. He couldn't help but get curious. Did you go through this before?

Well, enough thinking. Scaramouche snapped back to reality when he saw tears threatening to drop from your eyes. He stomped towards you two. The subordinate stopped pushing you around to look at The Balladeer. You looked at him as well, still tense.

"My Lord!" The man in the mask kneeled down, forgetting about you. Scaramouche didn't say anything immediately, which made the subordinate assume his lord was glaring at you.

—

The masked man gripped your wrist, still kneeling, and pulled you down harshly. You thought it was because you needed to kneel down as well. But, before you could, Scaramouche slapped the subordinate's hand away from yours.

"What's the situation here?" Scaramouche asked the man on patrol. "Well, My Lord. I did not see anything out of the ordinary. Not until this person was trespassing on the grounds. So, I had to—" He was interupted by Scaramouche, who sighed loud and quick, hinting for the subordinate to stop.

Scaramouche looked at you. You were standing a bit stiff, with your head down but still looking back at him. You were fidgeting with your hands infront of you, getting ready to be scolded and thrown to the ground. Scaramouche looked back at his subordinate, who was staring back in anticipated and confusion.

"Hm. So, we already know you're stupid. Are you blind as well?" You then found out that this man was way more scary than the masked man. You gulped.

"You can't see?" He gripped your arm. His hand was a bit loose, to not hurt you and hopefully not scare you. You flinched but stayed in place. You didn't want to anger this man, after all. "This human is still developing. Do you know what that means?" Scaramouche glared down at the subordinate, who was now trembling. You also stared at him.

"This is a child." You just stood there, your arm where Scaramouche was holding became even more tense. You had no clue what the two men's intentions were. Will they punish you?

"M-my apoligies, my lord! My mask was a bit foggy today, the darkness did not help either—" "Will you just shut up?" Scaramouche let go of your arm and took a tiny step forward to the kneeling man. "Go back to headquarters. You're done for today," He ordered. "Yes, my lord!"

When the subordinate was out of sight, Scaramouche turned towards you. He examined you, to see if he could recognize you, but that did not work. It seems you were just a lost teenager. "Why are you out here alone? Get back to your family." His voice was still as intimidating, but he wasn't glaring at you like he was to his subordinate.

"...Family?" You whispered. Scaramouche clicked his tongue. "You really don't know, do you?" He crossed his arms. What does this guy mean? You wiped your cheek, where the subordinate once slapped you, as if trying to brush off the pain. "You know, the people at home." Your eyes widened, while his narrowed down at you.

"I—" You tilted your head up at Scaramouche. "I don't want to—" You stuttered, then remembered something. No one cares if you do or don't want to, it doesn't matter because you need to. You looked down at your hands, resting your face to make it blank and waiting for this man to tell you something. Perhaps to give you another order.

"You have something to say? Speak." That was his next order. Did you have something to say? You wanted to cry out, 'Save me, please.' But remembering his attitude towards the masked man, you hesitated.

The man infront of you must have a higher rank, to be able to order people around. It was just like the people at home, and you were the subordinate. "Don't want to talk, huh. Then tell me your address, I'll take you back home." You noticed he didn't ask, he demanded. Or, at least you thought he did. Scaramouche was actually just offering—in his own stubborn way—to take you home.

You knew you had to talk now. You've memorized the address, the one where the people at home stay. So, you'll just say that, and it'll all be easy. Just your neighborhood and house number— "Don't take me home! ...I-I mean—" You failed. Now this guy was going to tell the man that lives at home how bad you were.

Getting ready for a punishment, you slowly looked up at Scaramouche. He has an eyebrow raised as he uncrossed his arms. He was starting to get annoyed by your timidness. ...It kind of reminded him of Kunikuzushi. But, it's not time to dwell on the past.

"The people at home... Will just do the same things the guy with the mask did." You tried to explain your situation. You don't care if you can't trust anyone. It doesn't matter what they will do to you, because your life was already miserable. It can't get worst. You were staring to lose hope.

Scaramouche tried remembering what his subordinate did to you. He remembers that he pulled your hair, swinging his hand around to shake your head. Your reaction was too clutch the sides of your head with your face tensing up. He remembers how he kicked your shins when you were walking too slow. Your reaction to grip your leg while letting out a pained cry. He— didn't want to think about it further. "If your family— The people at home do that, then that's not home. That's just a house, not your home."

You started feeling confused. Then, the feeling of being lost hit you again. "Then, what's my address..."

"Tell me where their address is, the people that hurt you." Scaramouche was glaring, but not directed at you. He was glaring at his thoughts. How could someone do such things to a growing child? During their most important years of development? He'll do whatever he can to make their lives miserable. He'll fire them from their jobs, spread bad rumours, kill them, torture them for hours— He will make them pay.

But, that should come later. Scaramouche needs to take care of you first, since no one else was willing to do so the proper way. He doesn't want a teenager becoming like how he was, wandering around with no purpose. Eventually, the wrong people would take you in.

...Maybe Scaramouche was the wrong person. But, his intentions weren't wrong at all.

Scaramouche wouldn't pull your hair, he would pet your hair. He wouldn't slap your cheek, he would rub it softly, calming you down. He wouldn't push your shoulder harshly, he would wrap his arm around you, gently holding both of your shoulders to guide you, with him by your side.

And if anyone would do something he did not approve of towards you... He'd softly tell you to close your eyes before he would cast eternal hell upon them.

Zhongli:

One time when you were at a very young age, you got in trouble with your family. You did a simple mistake that almost any child would make. Your family grounded you to your room, saying to learn your lesson.

You were pouting in anger, thinking about running away. You were in a pretty normal situation for a child, except for the fact that you actually did run away.

The window was left wide open when you snuck out. After wandering around Liyue harbour, you felt lonely and scared so you went back home. But, instead of going back through your window, you went to another window that shows the dining room.

You crouched and peeked through the glass, straining your ears to hear what your family was saying at the dining table. You soon realized they were talking about you.

They were talking about how dumb you were, how they should've never had you. Your family laughed when one of them made an insulting joke about you. You just stared from the window, eyes getting glossy.

Suddenly, one of your family members said they were going to check up on you. So, they stood up and walked towards your room. You stayed crouching, wondering what they would do if you weren't there.

When said family member came back, they had a smile. You basically had question marks above your head, before they raised a fist in victory and stated how you magically disappeared. "It's like our god has finally lifted a weight off of our shoulders. Now, we can finally live in peace."

You ran away for real after that.

It was hard living as a street kid. But over the few years, you learned how to take care of yourself. You slept out in the open, most likely on a bench. Whenever you saw one of your family members walking by in the street, you were extra careful to not be spotted.

The most important people in your childhood turned out to hate you. So, you thought everyone hated you. It was a stupid thought, but you were a close minded child. That thought stayed with you until you grew became more self aware. So if you ever earned some Mora, you wouldn't spend it. Instead, you would steal whatever you needed.

For one, you wanted to save money for when you were older. Your dream was to move out of Liyue harbor, and live under a different archon's protection. And two, you didn't trust anyone with your Mora. You thought people would take your money and say "Hah, get lost," without giving what you payed for.

You hated Liyue's archon. He was the one who made everyone, especially your family, hate you. He blessed your family with your disappearance, just as they said. You could only hate him as much as he hates you.

It was now present time. Today, you were feeling especially hungry. Why? Because you didn't get the chance to eat anything for a few days. A few days might be a lot, but it was pretty normal for you. Your body was trained to handle this kind of hunger.

You went up to a food stand, staying in place not too close, but not too far to not be noticed. You were observing the types of food they had displayed. Your plan was to choose the food you think was the easiest to steal without getting noticed. Come back during the night, where almost all of the lights were off, and snatch what you wanted.

You wanted to do it now, but there were too many people. You wanted to eat at least a small meal, but you stopped yourself, even though you would probably feel to weak to do it later.

"Are you hungry, little one?" You heard a deep voice say. Your head snapped up, realizing that you were so exhausted that you were about to fall asleep standing up. A tall man with a ponytail was standing before you patiently.

"I can't help but notice you staring at the food here for quite some time. Are you planning on buying a few ingredients for your family?" His voice was so calming, yet intimidating. Like one wrong move and he would look down upon you in disappointment.

Your meals were so small, this tall man considered them ingredients. But, forget that. Did he really think you were buying food for family? You shook your head at his question and he hummed in response. Was he actually disappointed? That you weren't going to help your family? Was he just another person who hated you now?

Deciding that it was the end of your conversation, you looked around the harbour, finding a place nearby to take a nap. You almost completed forgot the man was still here, until he asked you another question.

"Are you looking for something specific? I know the ways around Liyue. Just tell me and I could lead you wherever you want," The same man offered. Your body was facing to the side, but your head turned to look at him.

Wait, does he not hate you? Because he offered... No, he probably does hate you. Maybe he just wants to lead you somewhere quiet to beat you up, since he hates you so much.

He noticed you were hesitant, so his first instinct was to make you trust him. "My name is Zhongli, I work in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor." You faced Zhongli with a neutral stare. You didn't introduce yourself back, instead admitting what you were doing.

"I'm just looking for a good place to enjoy a meal. I already found that food stand over there, so I don't need help," You said with a monotone voice. Zhongli put his hand to his chin and closed his eyes. "Hmm..." When he opened them again, he hit you with another question. "But why settle for a small stand that only sells two types of bread, along with some apples?"

'Only??' You wanted to say. You furrowed your eyebrows. Maybe it's because this man ate way more fancier foods than just a few bites of a sunsettia.

"Look, I'm just a homeless teen that can't afford fancy meals like you. Growing up on your own is hard, even a piece of bread could be considered enough for the day." You wanted this weirdo to stop questioning you. You also wanted someone to talk to about your life... But you haven't spoken to anyone in so long that you didn't know how to keep a good conversation going. Not like anyone would want to converse with you.

"Oh. I see." Zhongli straightened his arms to his side. "Would it be alright if I treat you to a nice restaurant? I'll buy anything you order." His voice sounded a bit softer, in a more hushed tone. But, you shook your head and turned around abruptly... You couldn't even take one step before falling forward and losing consciousness.

—

When you woke up, it took you some time to remember everything.

When you remembered that you passed out, you shot up from your sleeping position. Your body ached a bit, probably because you were laying on wood. You noticed you were sitting on a bench you slept on last night... Was everything that just happened a few minutes ago a dream?

Apperantly not, because the guy from earlier was sitting next to you. "Oh, you're awake. Are you feeling well?" You turned to look at Zhongli, and slowly nodded. "You passed out. It sounded like you hit the ground pretty hard. You must be hungry?" You looked forward and nodded once more before standing up and speed walking away. You decided to ignore Zhongli following close behind. Only a couple of more hours until you can go back to that food stand again. You were so hungry.

You stopped when you heard the sounds of a smooth sizzling fire, and found out there was a huge restaurant next to you. The delightful smell of the salty foods mixed with the sweet desserts, it made you starve. You wanted to cry. Curse this horrible world—no, this horrible archon. How could someone that retired from a divine being still act so cruel?

"Hm? We could go in there if you'd like. You don't have to worry about the Mora," Zhongli, who you forgot about, asked. You bit your lip and looked down. You wanted to scream in agony, you wanted to give up.

Your emotions were getting to you. Thoughts were flooding your mind, you had no control. You started feeling so furious at this man. You tilted your head up at Zhongli—but suddenly your tense face eased up. You noticed a resemblance.

"Mh—..." Your eyes widened at Zhongli. He only raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Morax..?"

Zhongli was taken off guard—did you just call him Morax? You immediately looked back down, a bit embarrassed but still angry. Was he really the god of Liyue? Maybe that's why you're so mad at him. But, it couldn't be, an archon doesn't casually walk around in public, right? But Rex Lapiz retired, so is he just a normal citizen now?

"It's Z— Zhongli," He stuttered, eyebrow twitching with nervousness. You faced him, looking up once again. You then squinted, trying to imagine dragon horns and a tail on him. Oh, he really was Morax.

"Morax!" You half-yelled while your teeth clenched and eyes narrowed Zhongli tried to hush you, worried if other people would overhear. You felt offended by that, shoving him away. "You were such a horrible archon. How dare you!" Tears were threatening to fall.

Zhongli put his hands on your shoulders, leading you both to a quiet area with barely anyone around. You felt too frail to fight back. You felt your stomach eating you up, along with a headache making you want to die.

When you both stopped, you thought Morax was going to walk away, but instead he kneeled down infront of you. "...I apologize. I've always known about your situation, yet I didn't want to be the one to approach you." He started explaining his side of the story.

You wiped your eyes and let him speak. "I... knew about your hatred towards me as an archon, I did not want to bother you." You looked into his eyes. They were a bit sad, heartbroken. "But after realizing that my people would not help you, I felt a sense of betrayal. I had to do something."

"Please, Y/n, let me help. I can't bear the weight of witnessing a child, one of my people, suffer like this." You didn't respond. How could you, when the person who you hated most in your life wanted to help you?

Feeling too hungry to respond, you looked down and lightly clutched your shirt near your stomach. Maybe you should just accept his offer, you could use this to your advantage and eat all the foods and try all the drinks you've been so jealous to have a taste of.

You'd have to thank Morax later. He wants to help you, even though you despised him.

Well, now a certain archon felt protective of you, in a calm yet intimidating way.

Hi! I love your blog!

Can I request an older brother scaramouche comforting a teen!reader who cries a lot? Probably from loud noises or frequent bouts of anxiety

the art of being gentle.

summary. the balladeer does not need to be gentle to show that he cares.

trigger & content warnings. anxiety, scara's a bit mean but he does mean well, etc.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. comfort. scaramouche & younger sibling!reader. 0.6k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. hello lovely! thank you sm. a random thought, but a lot of people seem to quite like platonic scara content? i don't mind writing for him at all, since most people on my blog seem to be fond of my rendition of him, but i just thought it was interesting hehe

scaramouche is an easily agitated man.

his workload is difficult enough to manage as it is. being a harbinger, contrary to what the lower ranked members of the fatui seem to think, does not simply mean being out on the field constantly. it doesn't simply mean fulfilling the tsaritsa's international desires, such as snatching gnoses from their godly owners. it doesn't simply mean bloodshed. there is far more to it than that.

there's paperwork.

there's a fuck ton of paperwork.

scaramouche very much loathes that part of his job. he sometimes thinks of hiring someone else (more like threatening someone else) to do it, but then again... any error could be held against him in the end. he always ends up doing the mountains of work himself. as such, the balladeer does not take kindly to interruptions.

the knock on his office door, meek and quiet, makes his head snap up. the grip on his pen tightens slightly. with irritation evident in his voice, he sneers, "what?"

a wave of what he thinks is guilt or regret washes over him when his sibling—his cherished baby sibling, the most important person to him—steps into his office and shuts the door behind them with trembling hands. fuck... he feels impossibly bad, though he shoves those feelings down into the depths of his mind to the best of his ability with a slight grimace. a weight settles on his chest almost immediately he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. his expression then softens slightly.

no, the sixth is not gentle. he is not. he hasn't been gentle for a very long time.

even so, he'll do his best. he hates seeing them cry, and based on the shimmery gloss over their eyes... they are about to, his tone doing nothing to help their emotional state.

he tries to think of something to say—are you okay? what's on your mind? who made you feel this way? the words, however, do not come out. his throat tightens. it's as if the simple thought alone of expressing concern for another being made him uncomfortable. it was unfamiliar territory, in his defense. scaramouche has not had to worry about another's wellbeing for... centuries, maybe. he can't recall the last time he verbally consoled someone.

"sit down."

it comes out harsher than he intends, and he winces slightly at the sound of his own voice. he fidgets with the pen in his hands. suddenly, the paperwork on his desk—expense reports for the regrator, mission reports for the jester—seems far less relevant.

he still doesn't say anything. he only observes silently as his sibling settles in the chair in front of his desk.

"um," they begin, swallowing back some of their anxiety as they fidget with the edge of their sleeves. "i know you're busy. i'm sorry."

"the hell are you apologizing for?"

"just... um, just for being bothersome, since i know you have work to do and—"

"the other harbingers can fucking wait," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "you come before those heartless bastards, always. spit it out. what happened?"

no, the balladeer is not known for being gentle, but he cares.

maybe it's hard for others to comprehend, but when he always ends up holding them tightly in his arms as he finishes up the last of his work with one hand, the other's calloused fingertips drawing random shapes on their upper arm, it's obvious to the one person who matters.

being gentle is an art that scaramouche may very well never master, but in the end...

he doesn't have to be gentle to show that he cares.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!