#beyond the Tsaritsa willing it

[eluxcastar]

Listening to Candle Queen gave me more Arlecchino/Tsaritsa's daughter reader thoughts because what about reader DOESN'T scream Candle Queen?? The people think of reader as a tyrant, she looks down upon humans, she is literally playing a caricature (it is also her ONLY identity), she is abandoned, harmed by her own actions, and ultimately alone

Clutching a broken crown of fire is possibly the best way to describe it 😭

#✦ — riri rambles. #listen #she can be spoiled if I want her to #I'm her GOD /j #but actually it would kinda make sense yk?? #I love her #but also I can't deny her position makes her extremely susceptible to letting it get to her head #like there had to be a reason everyone was so on board with just #allowing that #beyond the Tsaritsa willing it #maybe she deserved it a little 💀 #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x female reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[anonbinaryweirdo]

"hopeful promises" childe x reader

(angst, hurt/no comfort.) major character death, one mention that captain guy, a bit rushed

gn reader, unspecified pronouns or descriptions for reader. this was in my drafts for two months. enjoy :}

you can recall every other time you were able to make it to the docks upon his arrival.

from the time you went to bed the night before, to the time you push past crowds of dozens just to reach his embrace, your heart exhilarated just at the thought of seeing his face once more--no matter how long the separation lasted.

and you knew that he, too, was always beyond ecstatic to spot you in the crowds of many. it didn't ever matter how many people in the crowd had similar traits as yourself or wore the similar clothes as you, as he would always make a beeline to you the moment he's off his ship. there could be a thousand identical to you around you both, but he'll always know where you are, amidst the crowd.

and so you waited today, waited for that familiar freckled face to disembark the large boat and become one of the many on land again. eventually, the sun started to set, and no more ships entered the harbor. disappointed, you went back to your home.

you checked the date again, and the last letter he sent you impending his return, which swore that today was the day.

but, alas, you knew of his job. you knew what you signed up for.

so you kept going back to wait, day after next, for him to come back to you.

today marks day eleven of stepping out onto that bridge, and the sun was already out of the sky, descending behind the hills over by the shielded horizon. you sigh, and drag yourself back home.

as you were about to stick the key into its keyhole, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a sealed envelope resting on the chair you two had planned to throw out. he had bought it for you a long while back, but recently decided to throw it out as he had planned to get you another one as, he says, "royalty only deserves the best reserved spot to rest their weary legs," he couldn't have you sitting on something uncomfortable.

you smile and grab the envelope, readjusting it so you can properly hold the key between the middle joint of your index finger and the pad of your thumb, pushing it into the knob and twisting it before making your way inside.

you kick off your shoes, and immediately work on unsealing the envelope, pulling out the paper hidden inside, for your eyes only.

to your surprise, it wasnt from him or his family. rather—from another harbinger—the one he would always tell you about.

your heart skipped a beat, but not in the way it usually woul whenever he had something to do with it. you didn't realize you were holding a breath, your eyes scanning down the words that read;

"to [name]; Ajax's partner,"

you didn't have to read far to have your heart stop beating in your ribcage, feelin like all beats were skipped entirely, as you read;

"we're sorry for your loss. but we are afraid that Tartaglia won't be making it home today, or any time coming forward. as you may know, the eleventh was always up for a challenge, always willing to push past his limits to proclaim victory against even the strongest of foes.

however, that wasn't the case this time — for he had lost his head in battle, and his corpse was frostbitten; hardly recognizable.

this was a battle that not even her highest, the tsaritsa's most loyal soldier could win. im sorry.

all regards,

Il C."

no.

that was—

... you simply couldn't believe it.

but even as you tried to fight reality, every teardrop that fell onto the trembling paper, which was now crumbling with wetness, brought you back again.

there was a reason as to why his eyes got more dull than present whenever he promised you—pinkie promised you that he'd be home. there was a reason he looked guilty everytime he promised his return would be set in stone, and you both knew that reason all too well.

and yet, you still couldn't believe it. how could you?

there was also a reason as to why he left that same, nearly torn up scarf with you, everytime he departed from home. he told you, "keep it. if there comes a day where I don't return to your arms, you'll still have something of me you can hold, even then."

maybe you could have taken this better if only he hadn't promised he'd be back.

no, no, that's not the case. it's not like.. it's not like he lied.

but..

that's exactly what he did.

he left you with hope every day, and each day that hope would turn to be true—each day except today, where you falsest of hopes were being forced to endure.

"baby," he would say, turning to you with a smile on his face—one that never seemed to reach his eyes. "im heading out now."

and you would respond, "for how long?"

"a couple of weeks." he heaved a sigh, already dreading being out of your reach for longer than an hour. "but it's alright.. I'll be back. it's nothing I can't handle."

you nodded, "I know." yet, there was a falter in your gaze that only he seemed to catch, reaching for your cheek to cup it as he pressed your foreheads together. "do you have my scarf?"

you nod again. "it's under your pillow." he laughed—and it would be the last you'd hear it.

"good.." he stared down at you, those blue eyes swirling with contemplation, before being replaced with the faintest of guilt as he holds up his pinkie.

you hesitate—just like all the other times—but link your own with his.

and always, he starts off—always, for—unbeknownst to you—he deliberately makes sure that the last line is yours to recite. everytime, without fail.

“you make a pinky promise, you keep it all your life."

"you break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice."

"the cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend.." he trailed off, and he can feel the pit in his stomach grow as he awaits your finish to the lullaby.

and now, that pit in your stomach was twice as big, now that you were thinking back on everything. oh, how you regret making such promises with him. ones that, even you knew would fail to be upheld one day.

yet, you foolishly finished; "and the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again.”

oh.

how true it turned to be.

#SIGHHH hes finally dead (is bawling eyes out) thank god (just broke furniture) he wont be missed (just jumped off bridge) #🖋️ oli writes stuff #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #childe x you #tartaglia x you #ajax x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe angst #genshin angst #genshin impact angst

[merakiui]

Oooooh expand more on incel discord mod scara? 👀👀👀

(cw: yandere, brief nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, incel behaviors, obsession, misogyny)

Either he lives in Ei's basement, or she kicked him out and so now he lives in a very nice apartment far from her. Scaramouche is an incredibly toxic gamer; the type who will spam petty nonsense like “kys” or “your mom doesn’t love you” or “get better at the game before you talk to me” or “i bet you shoot blanks irl.” He is a menace and a bully and an omen all in one terrible package. You’d think that with all of his cruelty he’d actually be trash at games, right? He’s actually surprisingly good—too good, actually, to the point where he’s placed very high on leaderboards and in online tournaments. He also has the worst gamer rage and short temper...

He’s in a server that was created by a pro-gamer who calls herself the Tsaritsa. There are eleven mods in total, with Scara being the sixth. Your meeting wasn’t exactly a meeting; it was more of you had been in a VC with him and a few others and the lot of you were playing games for the fun of it. Scara had some time to kill and he figured that annihilating everyone in the lobby and flexing his skills would give his ego a significant boost. What he doesn’t expect is for you to actually beat him and top his score by a few measly points. He claims he doesn’t care, but then you lightheartedly rub it in his face and now he really cares. The two of you end up arguing in the VC, going back and forth about skill issues and raw talent and how he should just relax because it’s just one win. He ends up kicking you out of anger and spite. 

Later, after appealing to mod Dottore (Scara hates him), you’re let back into the server after having promised to not stir up trouble or fights. Scara doesn’t notice your arrival for a few weeks until he spies your profile picture in the VC and he’s immediately reminded of how annoying you were that day. He’s been grinding on that game ever since you beat him just to improve; he’s such a loser. 

Scara actually doesn’t play with the other server members often. He’s more of a solo gamer, but with you in the picture he’s determined to put you in your place. That singular win chips his pride more than he’s willing to admit, so whenever he sees you alone in VC he’ll hop in and demand a rematch. You always agree, and each time you always win. Scara is losing his mind. How is he suddenly so trash?! What’s going on? He used to be so good—and he’s still good! You’re just hacking or something. Did you secretly team up with Dottore and did he let you in on some stupid hacking tricks? Is that what’s going on?

Every time you win, you tell Scara to get better. He’s trying. Archons, he cannot stand you. He’d kick you again, but like a worthless cockroach you’d just find a way back in. 

At some point, the two of you add each other so you can take your feud beyond the server. Every weekend the two of you engage in rematches and you win every time. If Scara’s pride was cracked before, it’s absolutely shattered now. His hatred for you and your skills (which he is certain are just cheap hacks) grows day by day until it gets to a point where he’s going through the socials you’ve linked to your discord profile just to see what kind of person you are beyond games. You might not even be a female, but Scara automatically sees you as one because of how annoying you are. He has this whole mindset that “women can’t be good at video games” and so regardless of your gender he’s going to live with the thought that you are a female who is kicking his ass at a game he used to be godly at. And Scara, as a pro-gamer, as a man, cannot let this continue to happen.

The next time you’re challenged to a rematch, you text him: if I win you have to pay for my groceries for the month. Scara thinks that’s a stupid request, but he agrees. And if he wins you have to leave the server forever and never return. Unsurprisingly, you win. But just barely. Scara doesn’t care enough to wonder why that might be, but then you’re typing to him: gg, not my best game. I’m kinda hungry and running on three hours of sleep rn, so I’m not at my best. 

Scara peers at the message with a scowl, sitting perched in his gaming chair. sleep, idiot, he tells you. and make sure you eat.

Obviously he tells you this only because he wants you to be in peak condition when he plays with you next. Not because he’s worried or anything. 

Your grocery bills are covered for two months instead of the one.

At some point, amidst trying and failing, Scara thinks he’s gone insane. He must be trapped in some vicious, unbreakable loop. He knows he should probably give up, but giving up would look weak and then his server members might say he has a small dick for letting you win all the time. He hates you, but what he hates more is when you stop appearing online for your weekly rematches. The idea that he would be worried over you is so lame. He’s not worried. He just needs you to be in one piece so he can kick your ass. 

The next time you text him you tell him you were busy with your real life, which is understandable, but Scara is chronically online and so he thinks that in the time you were offline you were busy fooling around like a slut. Is that how you’re so good at games? You seduce the competition and then win while they’re distracted? He hates you and your trickery. 

But he still finds himself asking if all is good on your end. If you need him to send money. If you need anything. Since when did he care so much? It’s not caring, Scara assures himself; it’s hate-caring. He’s doing this only because he needs you here so he can win. 

Without realizing it, you’ve become Scara’s discord kitten. He sends you money out of spite, he pays for your groceries and other necessities out of hatred, he stays up late on VC with you just to trash-talk and insult you (i.e. get to know you more). He finds your personal social media accounts and the accounts of your real life friends and he pulls up pictures of you on his three monitors and fucks into his hand to the sight of you. 

He really is going insane. How did he get to this point? Since when were you able to get him this hard? Why does he immediately think of you when he’s doing the most mundane tasks like chores or shopping and suddenly he’s insatiably horny? It must be because you’re a worthless female using your charms to seduce him, to always beat him at games, to use him like you probably use every other man you’ve come across!

Scara decides that, regardless of whether he wins or loses to you, he ought to just take you for himself and keep you in his apartment as his little housewife. Then he can get back to being good at video games and you can serve him like you’re meant to. He just needs to find your address and plan a few things, as well as buy some...tools. 

He can’t wait to welcome his kitten home. :)

#genshin chit chat #yandere scaramouche #tw: misogyny #n/sfw #you think he's going to be ugly irl #but he's actually really hot #he has piercings and tattoos and his room is actually a really cool layout with LED lights #scara online: a toxic loser with no life #scara irl: actually attractive but still a toxic loser with no life #the type of man who compares his dick size to energy drink cans #just so he can feel validated in something

[majeoeje]

Manor of Serenity

Capitano x reader

My heart calls your name, yet you shall never know mine

Stephanie, this is for you😏😜 (she payed me with 5 rb rupiah and an ice cream)

The careful clank of your cutlery rang through the dining hall, the quiet dead of the night could only serves as an amplifier of every sound you make. At the other side of the unnecesarrily large table with countless of chairs that you know would never be filled, lies yet another meal that had ran cold.

You never minded the peace and quiet. But today is no ordinary day. It was yours and your husband's anniversarry. For once you could only wish to relish in his attention, yet he still wasn't here

Nevertheless you chose to just leave it, wanting to cheer yourself at the comfort of your garden.

Daisies could be seen all through your garden. The beautiful scenery was illuminated by the moon, paired by the sound of the soft trickling hum of water from your fish pond, while the fish and the croaking frogs nearby serving as a part in the symphony.

A perfect evening to spend time with the one you love, you thought.

As your mind starts to wander somewhere else, a cold wisp of wind brushed against your skin, you could only rub it with your palm, hoping for an ounce of warmth. But before you knew it, you could feel hands draping a rather thick cloak over your shoulders.

"My love, you'll catch a cold. We should head inside" said your husband. Capitano, one of the harbinger of the Tsaritsa.

His voice was honey to your ears, far more sweeter than you could ever accomplish.

"Oh you worry too much." You dismissed him, which only left a small frown on his lips.

You had always been sick. That was a known fact from the very moment you two met. But you never asked to be spoiled this much by him from the time he swept you on your feet and married you. Well you didn't mind, it's more the fact that he spoils you rotten than berrate you.

"Even through that helmet i know how you're looking at me" you say, catching his face in your hands, sliding off the slightly heavy helmet to reveal his beautiful complexion.

"Why should you hide this beauty under that helmet?" You say, tracing the skin on his cheek. You knew he lives for your touch.

"Oh please, stop teasing me." he sighed, despite his declines he kept your hands there, you could practically hear him humming in delight.

"You deserve the extra teasing today" you pinched his cheek. His deep melodic laugh filled your ears. It was heavenly.

Truly, you could spend centuries admiring him. From the way his dark locks falls majestically to his shoulder, the strokes of contour of his face and despite all the scars he got from battle, the chiseled way his body were structured were so delicate. It was as if he was a work of art. He was breathtaking.

"You're quite bold with your staring now aren't you?" He says, drawing circles on the small of your back, slyly inching you closer, taking advantage of the situation. It was baffling how his simple touches could send shivers down your spine, setting your heart ablaze.

"Well truthfully i had missed you." You confessed, unashamefully.

"And i you, Darling" he responded, sweetly. You could get lost in those eyes as it shone down yours in 2 bright obsidion hues.

It drowns you in an undespicable madness. It makes you go beyond than you should.

"You know.. we've been married for a year.. and i was thinking that..." the way you were asking stiffens him, he already knew what you were going to say. "Maybe you were ready to tell me your name?" You said, as hope filled your eyes

Though the way he faltered and let go of your embrace answered your question in itself.

"You already know i can't do that." He says as he looks away. His demeanor doing a 180⁰. "That is a line that i'm not willing to step"

To bring danger upon you is a line he would never be willing to step.

You already knew that. You knew if you got to know him then it would put you to a great risk. People would start hunting the wife of the harbinger Capitano and that would be the end of you. That is why he kept you hidden from everyone, and drawing the line from actual knowledge of him and his true identity.

But despite the cemented hard wall that he continuesly build in between you and him, you couldn't help but try to chip it day by day. Until you find yourself despretely digging to this never ending wall.

It was something appaling. To fall for someone despite not knowing who they truly are. You knew his sleeping habits, his favourite cloak, the scent that lingers on his skin, the rhythm of his steps. Every mark, every bruise, every scar on every inch of his skin, yet not his name.

You longed for him more than he knows, you yearn to call his name over and over again until your voice gave out. You want to chant it, whisper it, yell it. Yet you don't even get that luxury despite being his wife.

"I understand" you said. You always had to. Of course you have no other choice than to understand.

"I'm sorry.." he was about to say, but then he gulped down his words seeing you walk away.

Little did he knew, one day those words would just be resurfacing into a sobs as he saw your limp body laying helplessly on your shared bed.

"I'm sorry.. Please- wake up..." He cried as he held you tight. His sobs echoing through the room. It wasn't like he did anything to cause this yet he couldn't help but feel like he was guilty.

Just how could this be? This can't be happening!.. it was the most mundane morning. It was just like any other day..

"My head hurts a little bit dear, i think i'm going to sleep in a little" you had said previously, before he came back bringing your breakfast to you, whose heart was already stopped beating.

It was just a headache?... You just had a headache-!....

He hated himself.

He wished he had at least said something to you. He could at least told you to rest well. Or that he loves you?... Or he could at least stayed in bed with you.. but instead he left you alone. Like he had always did.

The breakfast that he cooked for you was on the floor, plates shattering everywhere. It was reminicent of his state right now. A mess.

Seeing the way your arm was outstretch to the door broke him. How could he be so stupid and not heard you call out to him? Maybe by then he could help you or at the very least share your last moment together and listen to your last words.

Every passing day after your first anniversarry has been difficult for him. Because he had seriously considered sharing what he truly was to you. The good, the bad, the shameful parts of himself... every part of him even. He was willing to give it to you. And it could only be you.

It was what you always wanted... yet he could never fullfill that simple request to the end of your time. And now he shall bear that consequences till he meets you again.

This was heavily inspired by bridgerton lmao, you see what i did there?😛☝️☝️

#capitano #capitano x reader #genshin impact fatui #genshin x reader #genshin impact #fem reader #fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #snezhnaya

[bananamilkbunni]

greetings Miss Bun,

one of my best friends rts your account on twitter often and from what i have seen i have come to the conclusion Bun is somewhat of a Tartaglia analysis expert.

therefore i was wondering if you knew or had a guess about Tartaglia's loyalty to The Tsaritsa.

Do you think part of the reason Tartaglia is so loyal is because he believes it's what's best for his family, that the Tsarista does know best? or does he love the Tsaritsa & is loyal for a separate reason regardless of family? If Tartaglia had to make a choice to stay loyal to the Tsarista at the cost of his family getting hurt, do you think Tartaglia would make that choice? Is Tartaglia's family getting hurt worth making the Tsaritsa's vision come to fruition?

i understand if this is too heavy a question or if there simply not enough information to make a guess, just curious as to what Bun thinks as a fellow lover of Childe.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, hope you have a wonderful day

(^-^)

Thank you for asking! It's true that we don't have much solid information on this, but I'll do my best to answer your question based on the current info and my own personal interpretation.

Judging by what we've learned thus far, Childe's loyalty to the Tsaritsa is partially due to being granted a purpose.

There are three separate instances in which purpose/motivation is mentioned in regard to or by Childe, making it a recurring and significant theme for his character.

Childe's Collected Miscellany. In this video, Dainsleif says, "Since becoming a Fatui Harbinger, fighting for the Tsaritsa is his new motivation as a warrior." This statement raises the question of what his motivation had been prior to the Tsaritsa, or whether he even had a motivation at all. My personal theory is that he did not have one.

Labyrinth Warriors (Limited Event). "All those who stalk the battlefield yearn for meaning and value." This quote comes from Childe himself.

Childe's Act I Story Quest. The quote from this requires the full context, so I'll expand on this below.

In Childe's story quest, Teucer gets the opportunity to see Childe fight for the first time. After the fight, he says to Childe, "I wanna learn to fight too. I wanna be cool like you!" to which Childe responds, "...Fighting isn't about looking cool. You can only continue to get stronger if you know the reason why you're fighting. I can teach you. But think carefully, first. Why do you want to fight?"

Teucer briefly ponders Childe question. Soon, he replies, "I want to protect sister Tonia."

This dialogue between the two of them is crucial in understanding Childe's own individual purpose for fighting. Later in the quest, outside of the abandoned ruin guard factory, Childe references Teucer's response when speaking to Paimon, after she asks if he is concerned for his little brother's safety. His words are as follows:

"Of course I am...but no matter what the danger is, I will parry it. Isn't that what any older brother would do?" followed by, "Even Teucer understands that, now that he knows what he's fighting for...It's the very same reason that's been nestled in my own heart for so many years."

This means that, much like how Teucer concluded that he wished to protect Tonia, Childe wishes to protect their entire family.

According to the description of the Funerary Mask obtained from Signora, the Fatui's primary goal is to go against the Heavenly Principles, against Celestia. It reads, "...Only those who possess an obsession close to or exceeding the level of delusion might be willing to join this group that so rebels against the Heavenly Principles..."

This is to say that the Fatui possess a wealth of information and knowledge beyond the average citizen in Teyvat. They have knowledge about Khaenri'ah and Khaenri'ahn technology, the Abyss, Irminsul, the truth of the world—and Childe, a Fatui Harbinger with firsthand knowledge of the Abyss, who traveled deeper than any other living human being, is not exempt from this. He is aware of the stakes, and of the war they'll have to wage to defeat the Heavenly Principles. He knows what will happen if they lose.

With that being said, to sum it up, we can assume that his loyalty is in part due to 1) gratitude for being given a purpose and 2) to ensure a safer world and future for his younger siblings and the rest of his family.

As for whether Childe loves the Tsaritsa or not, that remains to be seen. Since the Tsaritsa is implied to be the god of love, this could serve as one of the numerous plot points for the future main archon quest of Snezhnaya in 2025. What does true love mean to a god, especially to the god of love herself?

The question also reminds me of a past discussion between myself and a good friend of mine, as to whether worship and love can be equated. Is love a result of worship, or vice versa? Is it possible to worship without love? Can it even be deemed worship without it? And how would these complexities influence Childe's path? How would this internal dilemma affect his relationship with his family? Who would he choose if it came down to that?

Personally I believe that, because Childe's devotion to his family is such an integral part of his character, it is unlikely for his loyalty to his god to surpass that, in the event that his family would come to harm. In fact, it is my personal belief that this is the one line that can never be crossed. It would be his tipping point. Not only are they an inextricable part of his life, but I have reason to suspect that their role goes even farther beyond what we've been shown or told. I believe that his responsibility to his family, as well as the love of his younger siblings, is the very thing that has allowed him to maintain his humanity.

(But this is already way too long. I cannot get into that. Lmao)

In Labyrinth Warriors, ran in version 2.2, we learn about Childe's sense of dehumanization—self-dehumanization, as it is self-imposed and reinforced by himself (though it was undoubtedly cultivated by the Fatui). The event's story contained strong parallels between Shiki Taishou—a shikigami in search of his master—and Childe. Both perceived themselves as weapons, and Shiki Taishou says an interesting line: "If I am able, I wish to retain the kindness in my heart until the very end. But a weapon cannot betray its master's will. If he was able to create me, then he is able to control me."

This evolves into a harrowing conflict when applied to the context of Childe's own individual story, especially with the addition of Xinyan's perspective on Shiki Taishou's dilemma.

"All you gotta do is find the thing that was most important and righteous to you."

In other words, my personal prediction for the course of Childe's journey as a character is this: Caught between multiple worlds, there will come a time when Childe is forced to make his own decision. Will he carry out the Tsaritsa's orders, or will he save his family from harm? Should a situation arise in which his family is in danger, I believe he will ultimately choose to protect them, even if it means going against the deity he loyally serves.

In a nation ruled by a god of love, a character choosing love above all else would be extremely impactful, a perfect fit for the narrative and a profound moment for Childe's own story and development. After all, I think that is the entire point of his character—someone who, against all odds, retains his kindness, even if he himself is not entirely aware of it.

I hope I was able to answer all of your questions! I apologize for how lengthy this response is, but I'm just always very excited to discuss him. If you ever have more questions, you're always welcome to ask! I promise not ALL of my responses will be this long lol

#childe genshin impact #tartagalia genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact #character analysis #q&a session #childe #tartaglia

[chickenparm]

Accurate Recollection (Scara/Reader)

falling in love is cool and all that but what if you fucked up REAL BAD on accident?

Even a misguided attempt to do the right thing can lead to consequences that reach far beyond anything you could expect. Scaramouche unknowingly steps over a threshold he can never come back from; the only one to blame is himself.

AO3 LINK

Scaramouche/Reader 4,321 Words - SFW Unresolved angst, a little fluff, mentions canon events so spoilers for the AQ interlude.

---

Scaramouche can remember with crystal clarity the exact moment he’d laid eyes on you.

Recruit’s uniform a stark blue against the snow of the courtyard, a dozen bodies surrounding you in various states of defeat. The only sign of you even moving from the spot is the trail of your footprints spiraling through the whiteness that covers the ground, a telltale sign of your ease. 

The captain of your company had come to Scaramouche, desperately bidding him to watch in on today’s training, to see you in action and witness what he claims is being wasted in the chattel ranks of the Tsaritsa’s forces. And against his first instinct to claim anyone bearing humanity is worth less than the dirt beneath his heel, the effortless movements and second-nature of your abilities lend credence to your captain’s words.

Before the day is finished, you’ve been promoted by leaps and bounds. That evening, you stand in Scaramouche’s makeshift office when he bothers to spend any time in Zapolyarny Palace. The recruit’s uniform is gone, and in its place is a finely furred jacket that covers you from neck to foot, hiding away what regulation outfit you’ve been provided.

“It is an honor to serve, Lord Balladeer. I won’t disappoint.”

“...No, I don’t think you will.” The chair he sits on feels far too ostentatious for an office he spends little time in, but it does lend some credence to the intimidation factor when he’s well aware his youthful appearance belies the things he can do. Propping his elbow on the arm and using his fist to hold his chin up, he regards you with feigned disinterest.

Because you are interesting, no doubt about it. He wouldn’t have thrown his weight around to bypass all traditional channels of promotion to get you in his office. Even now, he can sense your vision, tucked away in the folds of your jacket and away from prying eyes. It shows you have drive, and already guarantees your ascension to the upper ranks once you prove your skill with it. 

But what ambition burned in you so brightly to manifest it? 

Scaramouche is infinitely curious, ravenous in the pursuit of knowledge when it comes to you. Accessing your files is child’s play with his rank as the Sixth Harbinger, not to mention your direct superior. A family at home, one parent absent, more siblings than your remaining guardian knew what to do with. Droll, but with the fragility of humans, it’s expected it would be enough to fuel you toward success.

In the days following, you shine brightly with potential. Every task is handled efficiently as one could expect from a recruit still learning the Fatui ins and outs. Your presence isn’t overbearing, you understand the need for respect when around him. If asked, Scaramouche would say with confidence that you’re the only subordinate he has that is of any worth at all. 

Again, Scaramouche can recall with perfect accuracy the exact moment his perception of you shifted from subordinate to something not quite understandable. 

A mission in the abyss, manifesting as twisting and winding caves that would skew the direction of any normal human. But Scaramouche isn’t normal, and you follow him without question. It’s only the two of you - the others have been culled by their own poor choices. You’d been willing to assist them in not dying, but Scaramouche had curled his hand around your elbow and leaned in so you could hear him over the din of the fighting. 

“If they fall here, they were never meant to join us in the first place.” 

It’s a test. Will you save your comrades that you’d formed a bond with in your uncountable days in this twisted realm, or will you stand by and listen to him. How much trust do you place in him, where is the line that you’re unwilling to cross despite his bidding? 

Your weapon blinks from existence, the glow of your vision fades, and you stand at his side as one by one, bodies fall before you. One calls your name, beckoning you to cover him as he stumbles - you don’t even flinch in their direction. Scaramouche’s hand still grips your elbow, his tension bleeding away as the formless monsters turn on the two of you now. 

“Go on, then. The same rule applies to you, you know.”

As if he would need to place such a limitation in front of you. Watching you move is like watching poetry in motion, the shifting of elements that reflect off the dim walls of the caverns you delve cast you in a shifting array of colors. As sludge seeps into the floor, the last straggling sounds of wisps fading from existence, you stand triumphant and unharmed. 

Scaramouche expected nothing less. Your eyes turn to him, cautious but expectant, and he’s willing to oblige with your unspoken question. Crossing the distance to you is done in a few steps, leaving him close enough that he could reach out and touch you once more if he wanted. His palm still sings from the contact, a feeling he isn’t sure he can decipher in the time given. 

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, tasting the foul miasma in the air that seeps into his skin with a cloying viscosity. Your eyes flick down to watch the motion, motionless and filled with anticipation as you wait for him to speak. His intention isn’t to leave you waiting very long.

“Just as I expected. You’re the only one meant to be at my side. The rest are but dross, spares to be tossed away as I choose.”

“But not me?” You venture, the first real attempt you’ve ever made at questioning him. From anyone else, the doubt and disrespect would enrage him. It would rattle his very bones into retaliating and putting the offender back in their place. But you haven’t left your pedestal; the one he’s placed you on, anyway.

A quiet, rasping laugh curls between the two of you, eerily similar to the darkness that claws in from the darkened corners. With a breath that he’d deny shakes at the edges, he nods enough that the hair tucked behind his ear falls loose against his cheek. “No, not you. You’re far too valuable to me.”

Later, after what could have been half a day or half a century, you break the silence that settles between you. Your words echo on the walls, rattling in Scaramouche’s brain until it risks giving him a migraine. He can’t bring himself to answer, even if your question is very simple. 

“Valuable? Or just important?”

The answer should be simple, especially over the coming days where the mission draws to a close and you’re given leave to recover from the toll the Abyss takes on the body. Your value lies in your skill, in your ambition, your utility to both the Tsaritsa’s cause, and his own. And certainly, he’s convinced you follow him. Not the other Harbingers, not even the Tsaritsa. 

Scaramouche isn’t blind to the devotion you show, even if it’s subtle. The devotion that leads you to check in on him when you’re meant to be resting, poking your head into his office and your eyes searching a form that holds neither scars nor injuries. Your jacket covers them, but Scaramouche is familiar with the wounds that are bandaged beneath - he’d been the one to initially triage them, anyway.

Rather than waste words on smalltalk, you simply enter the room and set a tray on his desk. Tea and sweets. At first he wants to deny your offering, until he catches the aroma of the tea. Bitter, so much so that his first instinct is to flinch away from it. The sweets are mild and could barely be considered sugary at all, their smoothness unable to stick to his teeth in ways that drive him mad. 

Despite your time with him, he’d never mentioned his preferences for either of these. Yet you’ve accurately guessed both, and the only conclusion he can come to as his fingers wrap around the steaming cup is that you’ve simply been watching. Observing, learning his habits, what he likes and dislikes…

Valuable would be the diplomatic term to describe you, but as you slip from his space with little more than a nod and a secret smile, Scaramouche decides that your importance lies far beyond what you can provide him. 

Perhaps you felt the shift, too. The crack in his wall grows just wide enough for you to slip through unwittingly. Scaramouche doesn’t realize it’s happened until he finds himself alone one evening, the lights in his room dimmed low, his body sprawled across sheets that suddenly feel devastating in their loneliness. 

It takes only that single thought for the last piece to fall into place. Emotions are a weakness, stemming from the part of him that had once desired to be human. He’s done his best to deny anything beyond rage, its usefulness far outstripping its nature as something worldly and fleeting. As long as he stokes it, it will exist into infinity. 

But something else burns in his chest now, simmering low but no less powerful. His fingers dig into his chest, gripping where it stings beneath his skin as if to remind him that it won’t be so easily spurned like the others had been. Love is something he isn’t sure he can comprehend anymore, but whether he understands it or not, it still exists in some primordial form beneath his ribs. 

Despite how he might try to claw, scrape, scratch, pick at it incessantly, the feeling remains. Your presence is a hindrance, but the thought of sending you away makes his very bones ache with a longing he never could have expected. Scaramouche had lost before he’d even realized he was playing, and now he can only watch as you parade with a victory you didn’t even know you’d claimed. 

With his love for bitterness, one would think Scaramouche savors the taste of Inazuma’s stinging air as he steps off the boat into Ritou. Silent footsteps follow behind him, sticking at his heels like a shadow as he waves off status reports, demanding they be delivered later when he has the patience for it. 

The only thing he’s willing to suffer through on the way to the temporary lodgings is your quiet voice at his back, low and inquiring. “Something’s bothering you, Lord Balladeer.”

“How many agents were on the docks?”

“Three, with a fourth approaching before we left.”

“Then four somethings have bothered me. I simply want to rest after the trip across the sea.” Maybe he’s talking a little louder than he needs to be. With a delayed step, he falls into pace with you at his side, hand grabbing your elbow as you instinctively slow yourself to once more be at his back. His intentions are clear enough that you don’t make the attempt again. 

Scaramouche’s hand leaving your arm gives you the bravery to speak again, out of turn but not enough for him to feel anything beyond a simmering heat in his gut that refuses to leave him in peace. Tilting your head to speak, almost as if you’re telling some grave secret, you ask, “Are you the type to get seasick? I never would’ve guessed, my lord.”

Seasick?

He repeats that word in disbelief, head snapping to look at you, veil snapping with the quit movement. There’s a twitch to your lips, the beginnings of a smile that have been stifled by your teeth biting against the inside of your cheek. Against his better judgment, he wonders for but a moment what you might look like if you were to lose the inhibition you’re obligated to hold around him. 

Would you smile with all your teeth? Would your cheek dimple under the pressure of your happiness? How much of your body would participate in your joy? Scaramouche can’t help but imagine you’d lean into him, cheek laying on his shoulder as if you needed support otherwise the weight of your elation would bring you to your knees. 

Getting his bearings, he sneers without his heart in it, “I don’t get seasick. Do I look like that would affect me?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked, my lord.”

“Scaramouche.”

Your footsteps falter, but only for a single pace. Swallowing audibly, you fall back into a match with his stride and venture with an, “I’m sorry?”

It should be obvious enough, yet Scaramouche has enough presence of mind to realize so few people refer to him by that name that you’ve likely never heard it at all. So, he’s willing to take a little pity on you and clarify himself. “When it’s the two of us, I’ll allow you to be a little less formal.”

“How informal?”

Truly, he hadn’t expected to have to answer that question. Your unwavering respect had been an obstacle he assumed would lead you to not question it and simply just use his name. Running his tongue across his teeth for a moment, prodding for the right words to come before finally settling on the simplest. “Speak your mind as you wish. I… trust you.”

And so much sooner than he ever expected, Scaramouche gets the answer to how you look when you smile. It takes everything in him not to return the gesture, simply turning his head and tilting his head to hide the way his cheeks begin to burn. The image is burned behind his eyelids, flickering across his vision with each blink. 

It shows up in his daydreams, when he lays his head down for the evening, at the most inopportune moments. Your presence is a steady feeling at his back through the mishaps of Inazuma, quietly supporting him either in combat or in the lulls between when you’d ask something he might have tagged as inane coming from anyone else. 

Questions about his life up until now, questions about his preferences that might not have been clear in your observations. Giving you free reign to poke and prod at him, giving you his trust… Scaramouche should regret it immediately. But he doesn’t - at least, not while you walk at his side and lean toward him, bumping his shoulder with your own as you ask how the people of Inazuma manage in the rain when they all wear sandals as they do. 

As if he would know. But, he unabashedly makes something up, lying and saying that they simply wear taller shoes when rain falls and the streets grow muddy. You don’t believe him for a second, but it draws your laughter out and he greedily wraps it around his shoulders like a scarf. It provides all the warmth he needs when Signora falls and he flees with the gnosis. 

Certainly, you would have come with him, but time was short and he simply didn’t have the time nor the means to get word to you. It’s safest for you with the Fatui, he supposes - your loyalty should lie there, even if he selfishly cultivated it in his favor instead. 

Against his better judgement, Scaramouche lingers in his new body and asks Dottore for any news about you. The good doctor only smiles placatingly and shrugs a single shoulder. The workshop nearly falls that day in his rage, only soothed when Dottore finally reveals that you’re safe and sound, transferred to Tartaglia’s division at a rank equal to what you’d served at under The Balladeer.

It’s all he can hope for. Despite being a monumental fool, at least you’ll be treated well. Tartaglia has a reputation for running a well-oiled but lax ship, and undoubtedly you’re happy enough there. It’s a good enough home as any for the time being, until he can send for you himself and keep you close. 

The time for your arrival never comes. Only his downfall, only the sensation of having lost everything, all in the blink of an emerald-colored eye. 

—

The Wanderer tracks you. 

Information on the Fatui isn’t readily available to him anymore, but centuries of life have led him to a unique set of skills that let him pick at the threads of information until he can weave it into something useful. 

The cobblestone streets of Petrichor aren’t welcoming in the slightest. Fontaine is far from his favorite place in Teyvat, though you seem right at home in local clothing that seems a little too fine to have been bought from anywhere within the country’s borders. It’s a front, something to help you blend in among the townspeople. 

The outdoor cafe you lounge at is bustling with people, but you pay them no mind as you steadily sip at your drink and read what looks to be the latest copy of The Steambird. Your eyes aren’t moving across the pages - you’re taking in none of the information. It’s obvious you’re waiting.

Across the street, he has a perfect view for what you seem to be waiting for. A man dressed in clothing similar to yours, though of lower quality. He speaks to you for only a moment before continuing on, likely passing off information as one of the agents serving under you. So, you’re still high ranked despite his meddling. That may make his plans more difficult, but certainly he can sway you as he’d done before. 

Your eyes flick up as he sits across from you, the tassels on his hat chiming merrily with the movement. There’s something odd in your eyes as you look him over, expectant for an explanation on his intrusion. No doubt his arrival has put a jam in your plans, whatever they may be, even if he doesn’t plan to meddle in them. 

Rather than prod at you gently, the Wanderer leans an elbow on the table and props his chin on his hand, invading your space across the small surface and rattling off your full name as if he were singing a tune. Visibly you tense, your gaze guarded and your fist clenched on the table in preparation to summon your weapon. 

It hurts to see you on edge around him, your instincts telling you that he’s out to get you. That’s only partly true, anyway. Sure, he’s out to get you, but not maliciously. He simply wants to place you back where you belong - at his side, no matter where he goes, no matter what he does. It’s a simple enough demand, he thinks. Especially once he explains everything that’s happened. 

Perhaps, Nahida could recover bits of your memory, at least enough to show you what had been lost. Enough to show you that at one point, he’d loved you. 

“What do you want? We don’t know each other.”

“You simply have forgotten me. But I remember you. Fondly, but don’t tell anyone I said that.” His head tilts, his hair brushes over his cheek, and he seeks the spark of something in your eyes. It’s gone so quickly, but he’s sure it might have been a flash of familiarity. Scaramouche pushes further. “I can forgive you for that. I’m sure I can jog your memory if you give me a little time. Give us time.”

The time you hadn’t been allotted before everything fell to pieces. The time he could have used to swallow his pride and solidify what he felt every waking moment of every day. Even when his own memories had been lost, he still felt the ache of something missing. It was only when they’d returned, after his battle with himself and he clutched his vision to his chest that he realized what he’d temporarily lost was you.

If you felt anything - anything at all - then certainly your mind must be screaming at you to simply remember. Your brow furrows, your fist tightens, your jaw moves as your teeth grind together. It’s bothering you that he’s so familiar, and all he can do is crack the smallest, knowing smile in return. 

“I… you-”

“Me.”

One of your hands raises, lifting from the table as if you were going to reach out and touch him. Perhaps that’s all you would need to remember him, remember who you were supposed to be, remember that the two of you had been meant to be with one another in every sense of the phrase. He leans closer, but your hand pulls back before you can bridge the gap. 

That’s fine. There is time now. An abundance for him to show you what he should never have kept secret. It’s the greatest regret on a pile that skims the very skies above.

“It’s… who are you? I feel like I know you.”

And the small smile turns into a grin as he sits straight again, dropping his lax posture in favor of unbridled excitement. Yes, things are coming together nicely. You’re asking questions, you’re giving him a chance, and he can’t help but savor the way the vision on his chest warms pleasantly. “You do know me. The memories are concealed, but I’m sure if we spoke to-”

“Lord Balladeer!”

His blood freezes. Those words never should have been uttered again, not in this lifetime, at least. Yet it’s not him that’s being referred to. His bones fill to bursting with dread as your posture slackens and you turn your head to look at the newcomer. The wonder in your eyes is gone, and in its place is something cold and calculating. 

It’s an expression he’d worn not so long ago, when the trappings that bound him weren’t that of a machine, but that of a bureaucracy borne from the Tsaritsa’s will. 

“Keep your voice down, or I’ll silence it for good. Report to my second, can you not see that I’m busy?”

The air feels frigid. The shift of your body to speak to the agent shifts the folds of your coat, and pinned to your chest is the sharp spines of a Cryo Delusion. Blood rushes in the Wanderer’s ears, drowning out the sounds of your Agent’s acquiescence. The town around them seems to fall silent, but he’s certain it’s only because his ears are filled with the howling of his frantic blood. 

“The… The Balladeer, huh?”

It sounds pathetic when the question falls from his mouth. There’s no conviction, none of the bravado he’d felt as he walked up to you with intentions to someday soon wrap you in his arms where you belonged. His chest feels devastatingly empty, the simmering that had existed for so long seems snuffed out. 

“Yes? If you claim to know me, that should be obvious. I’m The Balladeer, number six of the Fatui Harbingers. Perhaps you mistook me for someone else, hm?” Metal against cobblestone signals you pushing your chair back to stand. His legs would surely not cooperate, or he’d be on his feet to reach for your elbow. 

His hand wavers in the space between nonetheless, reaching out for you as you turn away and speak over your shoulder. “Perhaps we’ll meet each other soon, and you can tell me if I’m who you think I am. For the time being, it’s best you stay away. I have work to do and I’d hate for you to needlessly be caught in the crossfire.”

Callously, you leave him at that table without offering a single look over your shoulder. The way you carry yourself is different now. Self-assured, confident, powerful in the way you could have been if you hadn’t been living in his shadow in a past life. Is this what he’d been holding you back from? Or perhaps, what he’d been protecting you from. 

Being a Harbinger has changed you, that much is for certain. The way you spoke to your agent made it obvious that there’s a finely honed edge to you now that had only existed in moments he’d once demanded it from you. It’s a harsh realization that he comes to when he understands this is how he’d looked to you from the beginning, before he made the unconscious choice to simply let you in. 

It wouldn’t happen the opposite way. That much is certain. 

Following you would be unwise. Tracking you would be fruitless. As an agent, defecting wouldn’t be detrimental to yourself, to your family. Faking your death would be easy, and no one would really look into it. But as a Harbinger? It’s akin to shackling yourself and throwing the key far, far from your reach. 

The Tsaritsa’s will eclipses your own with the oath you would’ve had to swear to her. Everything would be on the line, and there’s no reality that he’d be able to sit you down and convince you to defect to some no name Wanderer that’s cooperating with enemy number one for the Fatui. 

How long has it been since he felt this sort of hopelessness? 

Even watching the gnosis be ripped from him wasn’t close to this. The closest memory isn’t so old anymore - a body on the floor, curled in on itself as if to guard from the specter of death that only descended when their defenses were crumbling in his absence. 

You never can mentally recreate the pain you’ve felt previously. Sure, one can understand that it hurt, but it’s impossible to really imagine it with any sort of clarity. But watching you leave him there, alone and shattered, he’s certain that somehow the universe has managed to handcraft an entirely new hell for him based on the ones he’s somehow survived before. 

A fourth is too much. But is it a fourth betrayal when the blame for it all lies in himself? He had tampered with the memories of the world in a misguided effort to set things right. With one decision, a single stroke of ink to blot out the truth, he’d sacrificed his own redemption to damn you in his place. 

#scaramouche #wanderer #genshin impact #reader #reader insert #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #unresolved angst #angst #spoilers #this is the last time i'm tagging any of my fics as spoilers #at this point that's on you for being slow #no gendered terms used for reader

[doloniaxdiegesis]

HC- love

The tsaritsa loves her people, she adores them so much to the point her love is self destructive. She is willing to wage war for that love and in doing so she has only one fate and thats death. Either by Cele.stia or during the after math of the battle because their is no way she's surviving the fight.

I would like to say she knows why all her harbingers joined but, because i do think their are cases where she's only give the bare minimum because plotting and shit

Can she and will she have a romantic relationship ? Can she have a platonic relationship ? Can she live with the sin she is committing in order for those she loves to live another day ?

I would like to say she can love but she can't ever voice that love because of the plans she has in place, because of the outcome that may - will befall her and all that fallow her into the war with the world.

Bro.nya knows that her loving anyone is the worst mistake she can make because she will fall, no matter who fights beside her, death is going to be the end of it. So how can she love another if she's gonna damage them beyond repair with her departure ? How can she ever say she loves another if loving them means they will follow her down the path to hell ?

How is that loving someone ?

How can she ask anyone to love her if it means they are dragged down with her ?

So she can love but isn't allowed or willing to show it because loving someone is more then just words, its more then just dragging someone down to hell with you , loving someone is protection and warmth and destruction.

#･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: (( about )) #･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: Tsaritsa #･｡ * ｡ ☆ * :: snezhnaya | a heavy heart to carry : words of love never felt like any blessings | #WE BE BRAIN ROTTING TODAY #I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ON THIS ICE QUEEN #AND HER CARE FOR HER PEOPLE AND HOW SHE EMBODYS HER POSITION IN THE WORST WAY POSSIBLE #tw character death

[ddarker-dreams]

I don’t know why but the concept of adding Childe with enabler Pulcinella is so fun to me

pulcinella probably gave him tips to pull everything off. the fatui might be notably shady, but the scandal that would arise from the events in old friends would go beyond what the public's willing to accept. he had to make sure childe's Wife Obtaining Scheme went smoothly. the things he does for the tsaritsa...

#the headaches pulcinella must suffer when dealing with these folk #scaramouche complaining about his darling being cold when he's only ever miserable around them #pantalone pulling back on his fatui investments to get more 'funds to spend on darling' money #sandrone causing a power outage because her robot replica of darling took up too much energy #massive sighing from pulcinella ... #answered #Anonymous

[sgcairo]

Hi! I just came back to Tumbrl thanks to the serotonin of reading your fanfic with babytorre!! Im in love with him cause hes so cute aaaaa 😔💖.

Im kind of came up with two questions, im already aware that there are times were babytorre slighty acts like dottore... But i was thinking, being raised most of the time by pantalone who is a banker, harbinger, and all...

• Do you think little Anastasiy does small stuff that resembles Pantalone?

• And does Pantalone like explain to babytorre what he works with, explain about the money with education advice, or plays with Anastaciy games and board games with toy coins and fake money, and gives sweets if he wins...???

And kind of it all counts like teaching the kid... ( I played stuff like this was a kid with my dad and i was a menace in all of it... Now im a worker, get payed ever month, and it helped a lot with having control over my money. )

Hello there! Thank you so much for the question, I'm glad that Babytorre gives the serotonin! He's too cute for me to keep to myself 😀

As for acting like Pantalone, it all depends on what you consider "Pantone influence", because while yes, Babytorre is very formal and polite because of it, he's also weirdly materialistic.

Like... absurdedly materialistic with things he makes, especially out of old ruin guard parts and things that Dottore occasionally gives him to play with. A consequence of Pantalone being weirdly materialistic, Babytorre really picked up on it and now is borderline hoarding things because "everything has value". Even as a grown boy, Anastasiy still holds onto a lot of little things that he thinks he'll use later (then never does). His room is chaotic, to the point that Dottore almost broke an ankle trying to lure him out.

In terms of Anastasiy's awareness of Pantalone's job, he's generally unknowing. Pantalone gave him the short answer to the question, saying that he's a banker, but it's hard to explain to a child that all his "relatives" are technically military leaders that kill people in the interest of the Tsaritsa. Babytorre was definitely raised with a bit of prejudice in that area, told that every action the Fatui took was in the Tsaritsa's name, for her ultimate goals that were beyond their understanding.

Anastasiy also takes after Dottore in terms of monetary awareness. Which Pantalone absolutely does not help, by throwing around money like it grows on trees. Anastasiy has no concept of monetary value and it's honestly hilarious. Rich kid syndrome, if you will, but it's completely innocent as he has no concept of how much bread actually costs, because he has an ostetatious rich man raising him and sharing custody with a broke scientist that has no limit on how much he's willing to spend. Anastasiy has the worst of both worlds.

Babytorre's (planned) education is in diplomacy, surprisingly. It definitely wasn't Pantalone or Dottore's idea, it was Arlecchino's. Despite her clear distaste for "dignitaries", she's impressed with how easily Babytorre can coax people into coming to an agreement. His cuteness helps, but she also thinks that he has potential, given how much charisma he already has.

A lot of Anastasiy's life is "don't worry about it, just have fun" with a side of near death experiences. While being a Harbinger's child is more trouble than what it's worth, Pantalone and Dottore just want to keep him safe, so keeping him out of the dirty work is priority. The other Harbingers have made fun games out of important skills to survive the Zapolyarny Palace, especially stabbing kidnappers after that fiasco, and Babytorre has no clue.

Anyways, hope that answers your questions! Have a lovely day!

#il dottore #dottore #pantalone #babytorre #babytorre headcanons #fatui harbingers #fatui headcanons #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #il dottore's clones

[wri0thesley]

vaguely throwing some thoughts out about genshin oc/self insert

genshin oc/si is a singer (because of course they are they’re My Self Insert) from snezhnaya who grew up rather poor and terribly common, concerned with such mundanities as not dying and helping feed their family - and thanks to some generous patronage has rather risen above their station. not that they’re entirely happy about that.

owing several people in high up places favours, having a duty to their country and the tsaritsa, and being by this point also reasonably well-known, it made perfect sense to send them to sing and perform some pretty ballads about snezhnaya’s glory and the tsaritsa’s majesty (and use those same pretty ballads as recruitment propaganda, because the fatui doesn’t mind if you’re not originally from their homeland if you’re willing to be devoted) in various other nations in teyvat, with a guard retinue of some fatui soldiers who really are not best pleased with their assignment.

not particularly wanting to be saddled with them, it’s all too easy for them to slip away in the middle of the night in pursuit of a freedom that their current situation does not allow. obviously, this mostly causes them a whole heap of problems. i think they probably have an anemo vision and they probably got it fairly early in their life; i associate anemo with duty and desire for freedom - even if they don’t realise it - and their family situation and desire to be of help raising said family out of it certainly qualifies for that.

they do not have a Name and I do want to draw them but currently heat says no to that. soon! eventually! But yeah. Some thoughts.

The ending/beyond their backstory is purposely vague for ‘shipping them with whoever I want’ reasons sgjfsf

#nat.txt #genshin impact posting #self ship postin kind of

[orlissa]

Shadow and Bone, Narangerel Bilka

Although Mistress Bilka had worked in stately houses on both sides of the Shu-Ravkan border, nurturing the children of nobles, diplomats, and the richest of merchants, and thus was no stranger to highest levels of society, being asked to teach the two eldest daughters of the Tsar and Tsaritsa of Ravka was an honor beyond belief.

Her charges, the Tsarinas Nadezhda and Sofiya, four and six at the time she arrived at Os Alta, seemed to be lovely children at first—pretty and bright, eager to learn and please, and picking up the Shu she was primarily hired to teach them quickly. However, the… faults in their upbringing started to show soon.

She blamed the parents, of course.

Most often her employers allowed her to conduct the education of the children in her care the way she saw fit—they trusted her expertise, and not without reason. But their majesties were adamant about being unreasonably involved in the children’s upbringing. The Tsaritsa insisted on teaching the children how to read herself and seemed to draw great joy from painting and drawing with them, while the Tsar would tuck them into bed more often than not, filling their heads with heathen, nonsensical tales. This of course made the children ill-behaved, impetuous little menaces, who called for Mama and Papa—no matter how many times she tried to make them understand that the correct, respectful way of address should be Mother and Father, the very least—at the slightest inconvenience. And the royal couple of course indulged their whims, soothing their tantrums with gentle embraces, soft words, and sneaked sweets, leaving the children incredibly spoiled, and not conducting themselves in a way befit of an imperial princess.

Mistress Bilka kept her silence about it for a while—who was she to question the ruling monarchs of Ravka, after all?—, but even she had her limits, which she reached when she went to fetch her charges for their lessons on a late September morning, only to be told that the Tsar had unexpectedly taken them out for a ride. Going down to the gardens she could even see them, and to her absolute shock and outrage, the eldest Tsarina sat on her own pony, galloping in front of her father’s great black stallion, wearing breeches and riding astride, like some peasant wench.

This was the moment she knew she couldn't let the matter go unaddressed anymore—she would have to talk with the Tsaritsa.

She didn’t waste her time, but asked for an audience the very next day, which request, to her surprise, was swiftly granted—the Tsaritsa was willing to see her in her parlor, just after breakfast.

Mistress Bilka arrived just on time, as it was proper, and since there were no footmen standing by the door, she knocked politely, which was answered by a firm “Enter!,” so she took a deep breath and entered the room.

She had always found the Tsaritsa’s parlor somewhat odd—in a palace built for grandeur (admittedly, by the previous dynasty), where she could have taken up a whole wing for her personal use if she so wished, she spent a great portion of her time in this single room, the light and airy space somewhat serving as a receiving room, a study, and an art studio as well. A massive rosewood writing desk stood in the far corner, an easel and a small table holding art supplies was placed by the window overlooking the gardens, while the middle of the room was taken up by plush sofas and armchairs, where the Tsaritsa and her ladies could sit to converse, have tea, and do needlework. There was even a set of shelves full of toys and children’s books, as she often had the Tsarinas brought here as well, when she had a mind to keep them close. It was an awfully cluttered and unbecoming space in Mistress Bilka’s opinion, but she suspected she couldn’t have expected more, as despite her regal airs, the Tsaritsa came from humble beginnings.

She found her in the side of the room closer to the door, standing by a small table holding the model of a new orphanage the crown intended to build near the Fjerdan border. In one hand she held a few sheets of paper, intently studying their contents, while the other rested on her abdomen—she was currently expecting her fourth child, and although the birth was still some three months away, the curve of her belly was already prominent enough. Closing the door behind herself, Mistress Bilka curtsied respectfully. “Your Majesty.”

A small smile on her face, the Tsaritsa looked up, putting down the documents held in her hand. “Ah, Mistress Bilka. What do I owe the pleasure of your company? Should we sit? Tea?”

Straightening her spine, Mistress Bilka shook her head. “No need, Your Majesty. And I came to express my concerns over the children.”

The Tsaritsa’s face hardened. “What’s the matter with them? I thought they were progressing well.”

“They do excel in their studies,” she nodded, then cleared her throat, “but I worry about their behavior. They are spoiled and unruly, disregard the etiquette, behaving in a way that is unfit for young ladies of their status. And I’m afraid your, and especially the Tsar’s treatment of them only fuels the problem,” she said, her head held high.

A muscle in the Tsaritsa’s jaw twitched. “Is that so?” Rounding the table, she stepped closer. “Could you elaborate on that, please?”

“Beyond entertaining all of their whims and encouraging an overly familiar behavior, just yesterday the Tsar took them out to the gardens without notice, just as they were supposed to have their lesson. Ignoring how improper the way I saw them riding is, I’ve been tending to children for over two decades now, Your Majesty, so I can confidently say how important it is for them to learn what is expected of them, and to adhere to a strict schedule, without such nilly-willy excursions. Such things inevitably lead to the children growing up to be terribly spoiled, insolent little beasts. Therefore I would like to request greater control over the Tsarinas’ schedules—an authority to overrule such rash changes.”

“You don’t say?” the Tsaritsa murmured, leaning against the table, and regarding Mistress Bilka with an intense stare. “Well, I think my husband was right to take them out yesterday. The weather was so nice, and the saints know we do not have many days like that left before the weather turns. The girls need the fresh air and the exercise—not to mention some quality time with their father. And also, Mistress Bilka…” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What was your given name again, Narangerel? That’s somewhat mouthful. How do your family call you? Nara?”

Mistress Bilka’s face tightened. “I’d prefer if Your Majesty continued calling me Mistress Bilka. Anything else would be… improper.”

“Well then, Mistress Bilka,” she went on with an unexpected edge in her voice, “my husband, the Tsar, and I have a radical idea when it comes to the upbringing of our children: we want them to be happy. I’ll gladly have them to be spoiled, insolent little beasts—which they are most definitely not—who don’t give a damn about the etiquette, if they are happy and know that we love them, that they can always come to us. So no, your request is denied, and the overly familiar behavior and the nilly-willy excursions will continue. You can either learn to adapt to our vision for the children, or I’m afraid we will have to part ways. Is that clear?”

Barely finding the words, Mistress Bilka bowed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?” the Tsaritsa asked, picking up her documents again.

“No, Your Majesty.”

“In this case you are dismissed.” A short pause, then, “And would you please bring the children here in, let’s say, half an hour? I wish to spend the remainder of the morning with them.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Mistress Bilka curtsied again, then turned around, left the room, and, despite the outrage simmering inside of her, closed the door gently.

Great honor or not, she was starting to see that she would never be a good fit in this palace.

#ask #fanfic #shadow and bone #darklina #unsaid verse

[abyssmalice]

As a Harbinger, the subject of morals bears a more complicated answer.

The title is indifferent to things like age or innocence - for the sake of duty, she had to dirty her hands. It is a strange situation of needing to love the world to the point that she  should be willing to do anything and everything for it, from the best to the worst of actions. It is her Tsaritsa’s ambition, the path she laid for everyone who wants to walk with her to take down the stars.

And of course, Tonia doesn’t give two shits about how the Tsaritsa regards the world. There is no doubt that the Archon has very respectable goals, but the means never justify the ends—the good labor to foolishness, to an extremity of cruelty and monstrosity.

How unfortunate, that her hands must be so bloody for this bright, cold war.

But knowing that, it is all the more important that Tonia remains firm in her moralities, personal and general. To know what is good, what is right - what is bad, what is wrong. What is beyond these stifling categories, what is both, either, neither.

And so, for all the sins she perceives - indeed, she will acknowledge them as so. For no matter how terrible of a person she is, it would be worse if she couldn’t recognize the horrible extent of her deeds. Certainly, she will be blase about it, she may not harbor as much guilt as she should—but she will never, ever, say with sincerity that she is in the right.

#headcanons | (without love it cannot be seen); #(THE RETURN OF FLOWER'S HC POSTS THAT ARE SO LONG SHE NEEDS SPLIT EM INTO TWO AND THEY STILL END FEELING A LITTLE LENGTHY ANYWAY) #(anyway anyway this is the more important half of the morals hc imo) #(the other one too but this part? important - bc she Knows shes not doing good deeds like Ever. even her inconvenient mischief included) #(which is to say while shes a brat shes not doing it Obliviously - she knows shes being annoying at best and harmful at worse) #(and while she'll pull up a variety of childish excuses - thats just a lie. and she Knows shes lying. she knows its all unjustified) #(and if truly prompt she WILL admit its all unjustified nonsense with no good outcome) #(which is basically to say she has a sense of morals in that ''yeah its bad but at least i know and will ADMIT its bad im not a hypocrite'' #(a hypocrite in the sense that what shes doing is good or for the greater good. shes under no illusions the fatui are squeaky clean heroes) #(they have and will do terrible things for their duty. and toni will not hide behind an excuse of perfect justice) #(no matter how well meaning in the end - some things are just not right to do. and toni will admit that.)

[mercyburned-aa]

“Childe, do you see a future with me in it?”

for the next 5 asks, my muse has to tell the truth. 1 / 5

That was a deep question. What kind of future did he see for himself -- at all? He saw himself serving the Tsaritsa. He saw himself providing for his family, keeping his siblings and parents safe even if his father barely acknowledged his existence these days. He supposed he also saw himself living in Snezhnaya, by virtue of the rest of the things he saw coming true for himself.

Beyond that? A glorious in battle, which would be the only death he'd be willing to accept. But of all the things Tartaglia had envisioned for himself and his future, finding love... had never been one of them. Not for lack of wanting it, but -- who would actually want to build a future with someone like him?

For that reason, he hesitated. “I don't know what kind of future I've got going for me, but I'd like it if you were there.”

#inyvat #&. ‛ interactions.︐ › tartaglia.

[teamtargaryenapologinist]

Kaz Brekker

Drabbles

Headcannons

One Shots

Alright

Summary: You’ve been flirting with Kaz ever since you started working as his bartender. Systematic rejection gets tiring after a while, but sometimes all you need is a good chat and a large bottle of vodka.

Series

The Darkling/Aleksander Morozova

Drabbles

Headcannons

One Shots

The New Girl

Summary: Aleksander Morozov is the Editor in Chief of Ravka’s leading fashion magazine. As his First Assistant, you feel very responsible for his new Second Assistant - Alina Starkov.

Starting Over

Summary: One of your colleagues, Mal, brings the head of the Morozov family in for questioning - something you had discouraged him from doing for his own sake.

Line of Succession

Summary: As Tsaritsa of the Ravkan Empire, many see it as your duty to provide the Tsar with an heir. You are more than happy to serve your king.

New Position

Summary: A Modern AU. Mr Morozov is notoriously particular regarding his employees. As his newest assistant, your final test is to gain the approval of his wife.

A Night of Firsts

Summary: Your family requires you to marry, despite your position as a First Army strategist. Luckily, General Kirigan is more than willing to offer you his hand in marriage. You’re fond of Aleksander, but your wedding night has arrived and you’re beyond nervous.

His Name

Summary: A soulmate AU where your soulmate’s name is on your wrist. As the Sun Summoner, you’ve been in hiding, whilst the Darkling rules Ravka. Connected by the tether between you, you pay him a visit, and he makes a revelation that will change things between you forever.

Series

War of Hearts

Summary: Aleksander promised you eternity with him. Alina Starkov took that from you both. Now you’re going to finish what your lover started.

1   ❝ fine, make me your villain ❞

2  ❝ you and I are going to change the world ❞

3  ❝ there are no others like us…

4  …and there never will be ❞

5  ❝ like calls to like ❞

Epilogue  ❝ the two of us, together ❞

[vilithshaven]

I just read the work where darling cut the delusion from their skin and left. What would the reactions be from Zhongli and the harbingers when they see a bloodied delusion on the bed and a missing god

Childe's most prominent feeling is guilt. He was supposed to be your confidante, your one true safe haven in this world. Even his more murderous and psychotic Foul Legacy form knew that. So he can't help but ask himself why; why hasn't he felt your pain, the moment you cut the Delusion out of your skin? You have been doing so well lately, finally healing from the trauma you've been through. Why did this have to happen now and why couldn't he do anything against it?

Scaramouche feels regret. He always tried his best to be what Childe is to you already, but his harsher and more demeaning personality didn't make it easy. The fact you had been willing to spend time with him alone was already a feat in itself. Maybe, if he had been a better companion to you, you wouldn't have felt the need to run away. And of course he's angry. Angry at the former Geo Lord for ruining the trust they'd so slowly built between them and you.

The Tsaritsa is angry mostly. She'd oh so graciously accepted the Geo Lord's request to see you after you asked her to, and this is how she was repayed? This is your only haven in the entire world. For you to lose even that after your talk with Zhongli...she shouldn't have accepted, no matter how much you would have begged. Maybe she was to blame for all of this.

But Zhongli...oh, he's beyond devastated. Hearing about your predicament had been bad enough already. However knowing that he was the cause for a breakdown, causing you to run away after cutting out that Delusion? He shouldn't have come. In his despair and wish to be forgiven, he'd all but ignored your possible feelings once again. He truly was nothing but a lowlife.

- Lilith

#asks #genshin impact sagau #experiment god #dottore x reader #scaramouche x reader #childe x reader #Tsaritsa x reader #zhongli x reader

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

The Tsaritsa

You know, since writing a fair bit about La Signora, I was thinking a lot about the Cryo Archon and her subordinates. They're not what I expected.

We're told that the Fatui are an organization answering only to Snezhnaya's leader. They use diplomacy, but their reputation for vicious sadism and brute force precedes them--they're ruthless, leveraging any scrap of political favor thrown their way and exploiting what conflicts they can.

We know this from the Ursa the Drake incident, when Dottore's "defeat" of the beast gave them favorable diplomatic conditions in Mondstadt. We know this from the Vision Hunt Decree, promoted and maintained by Fatui intervention in order to destabilize the country from the inside.

And the Fatui value strength above anything else. Signora's death is not their tragedy and she was not a woman they mourned, because to fall in battle is a sign of weakness.

In Snezhnaya, there is no honor for the dead.

Like so many others the Traveler meets on their journey, they're also deeply devoted to their archon. To join the Fatui is to forsake one's name and one's face in the pursuit of the Tsaritsa's beautiful and terrible dream of a world without Celestia. That so many of her people have taken up her cause is no mean feat, and that she had eleven people so feverishly devoted to her that they would willingly sacrifice everything is intriguing.

But how?

The Tsaritsa is no simple tyrant. She's not Baal. And that's evident from the way she speaks to her subordinates and their opinion of her. Kujou Sara speaks of her archon with reverence and respect, and she devotes herself to Baal's eternity without a second thought--but there's nothing personal about why. It makes Sara, and by extension Baal, seem...more two-dimensional.

But the Tsaritsa, despite being the Cryo Archon, is one hell of a firebrand.

Think about it. She's advocating revolution, full on revolution against the powers that be. The Tsaritsa wants to bring the gods down from the sky and to burn the old world to the ground. And she acknowledges the enormous burden this puts upon her subordinates. She acknowledges that she is demanding their fullest loyalty, devotion beyond reason or ability.

"Sorry...to also have you shoulder the grievances of the world. Since you could endure my bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn? Then, burn away the old world for me."

What sort of archon apologizes to her subjects?

One that understands, on a visceral level, the sacrifices she asks they make.

Of all the archons, is it such a surprise that she sounds the most human? Because what could be more human than to wish to defeat the divine?

I have many thoughts on visions being a manifestation of human ambition, responding to their will, being tied inextricably to their dreams...and how gods don't simply grant humans power, but help their ambitions become realized. The Tsaritsa is not Venti, with little ambition other than to see his people happy; she is not Zhongli, tired of shouldering that responsibility; she is not Ei, forging ahead while deaf to the cries of her subjects.

The Tsaritsa tells them that the world is brutal, and so is she, but that they can tear it down if they so wished.

And this inspires such fanatic loyalty that it's astonishing to witness.

Cleverer still is how she gathered her Harbingers. They are all, in some form or another, as cruel as their leader. And from what we know, they were all outcasts.

La Signora is the first Harbinger we meet. She wandered Teyvat for centuries, burning away the corruption she saw until she was, perhaps, no longer fit to be called human. The Tsaritsa gives her a path forward--bring down the gods, destroy the Abyss.

Then we meet Childe. He's brash, arrogant, and fundamentally wrong in some way. The lore blames the Abyss for what he's become--a little too bloodthirsty, a little too ambitious, and a little too reckless for other people to tolerate--but the Tsaritsa gives him a place where he can grow in strength as much as he desires.

Scaramouche is next. What was Scaramouche if not a person without a destiny? Does a puppet even have a constellation? Before he was found, he drifted aimlessly. The Tsaritsa gave him a cause to fight for.

And though we have not met Il Dottore in game, we know enough about him to see that he was cast out of the Academia for unauthorized experimentation. The Tsaritsa recruited him with the promise that he would not be accused of heresy.

Though perhaps I give her too much credit. Scaramouche, Signora, and Dottore were recruited directly by Pierro, the first of the Harbingers. And he, too, is intriguing, and his words sum up the general attitude of the Fatui.

Then I shall become instead a fool, a Fatuus, and devote myself to Her Majesty, who understands my pain...

My name is Pierro, The Jester. Please listen to the words I have to say:

Proud Fatui comrades, I know your hearts harbor both the fires of rage and the cold of eternal winter.

Each one of us has borne witness to the absurd callousness of the foundational principles of this world.

So, let us don our masks in mockery of the world as we go forth and rewrite the rules of destiny.

What sets the Tsaritsa apart, I think, is that she understands the rage of her subjects. She seeks out Harbingers who feel the same and tells them that they are not alone, and that there is a better world--they must only build it from the ground.

And what could be more dangerous, more clever than a passionate revolutionary with a talent for recruiting bitter extremists?

Perhaps it is fair to say that only those who possess an obsession close to or even exceeding the level of delusion might be willing to join this group that so rebels against the Heavenly Principles, binding their remaining days to their Delusions and burning as brightly as stars.

Bitter, obsessive extremists. Clever indeed.

#all of the lore i cite is from the wiki #the tsaritsa #aurie character analysis #less analysis and more unstructured rambling lol #the harbingers #genshin impact #genshin fanart #childe #tartaglia #il dottore #la signora #scaramouche