scapinoz

[scapinoz]

MY MAD DOG (all mine).

yandere male oc x male reader.

prologue.

first of all, thanks for reading. this is my first time publishing one of my original works :) disclaimer that English isn’t my first language and that i don’t pay attention to grammar lessons at school, so there might be a few errors. sorry in advance about that !!

warnings: mentions of firearm and cursing. maybe a bit of child neglect. nothing too dark…yet (we’re just getting started)

Ilarion Lucero had always wanted a dog– a german shepard, to be precise– when he was younger. He had always gotten everything he had ever wanted back then; Ilarion was his father’s only heir, the young master of the household. Everyone– the maids, the servants, the butlers, his father’s men, even his mother– was at his beck and call all the time back then; when he was young. Because God forbid that the young master should ever once feel yearning or sorrow.

Ilarion Lucero had never once asked for anything; because everything he ever desired was handed to him in a bloody silver platter before he opened his mouth to ask for it.

Yet, despite the endless parade of silver-plated indulgences, there was one thing Ilarion had asked for.

A dog.

Ilarion, perhaps when he was five or perhaps six, went to his father’s office, barging in without knocking. (back then he hadn’t paid much mind to the gun that sat atop his father’s maghony desk). He had demanded that his father should get him a dog, because a boy from his class got one; a white one, covered in fur and had wide and glossy eyes. Ilarion had also wanted one. He begged, he cried, he pleaded with all the fervor of a child who had never known denial. And yet his father’s answer remained the same.

No, his father had said, you’re not responsible enough to take care of a dog.

He didn’t face his father for three days after that. His mother had begged him to eat; even had the chefs make his favourite food. But he did not budge. He had hoped that his father would feel some kind of remorse in his cold heart and buy him a dog so that he could brag to his classmates about having a dog as well.

But his father did not do that.

Ilarion had always known that his father was rather unsympathetic (it was the kindest word Ilarion could scavenge to describe his father). His father smiled, of course, the man never compressed his emotion (though it was only in his later years that he realized the smile was fake). The older man loved his son, his mother had always told that his father loved him when he was younger whenever he would ask about why his father never quite kissed his cheek and embraced him as his mother did. Love, he thought, was not something that should be hidden. Love was warm kisses, soft words and long embraces (things his father never gave him).

Illarion never quite believed it. He wasn’t stupid after all (in his six year old brain acing his exams made him feel smart). His father did not love him. Nor did his father love his mother. He had heard them argue back and forth; his mother asking his father to quiet down so that their son wouldn’t hear them and his father said, ‘let him hear then.’

And Illarion knew that he was only his father’s heir; not his son, or his beloved boy, but only his heir.

And an heir should be kept happy, right?

So, he asked for a dog once again.

He cornered his father during breakfast, pleading more. This time his father simply looked at him before walking away, the man that was always with the older man (Rylan, his father’s right hand man) following him.

Later that day he asked again (Illarion really wanted that dog), during dinner. Surely, in the warmth of their home, with food and wine laid before them, his father might soften. But his father did not. his father left the table and his mother, silent and withdrawn, didn’t say a word.

Illarion sought out his mother after dinner. Seeking solace and perhaps an ally in his crusade for a puppy. Hence he made his way to his parents’ bedroom, more than ready to risk his father’s wrath.

His mother wasn’t there in the bedroom. Rather he only found his father and Rylan conversing. And for a moment illarion could swear that he heard his father say, “take the fucking kid outside.”

and Rylan, ever the loyal servant, took illarion out of the room.

“What kind of dog do you want?” He asked.

And Illarion didn’t waste a second answering (he had rehearsed the answer to this question, in case his father was to ask). “A big one,” Illarion said, “like those dogs that the guards had in the last gala.” And then Illarion realized that Rylan didn’t attend the gala which took place last week, which could possibly mean that the older man didn’t know what dog Illarion was talking about. “The big one, full of fur and like a long nose,”

Rylan cut him off, “A German Shepherd, kid. I know. Your father told me.”

“Oh.”

“Do you really want a dog?”

“Yeah,” illarion nodded, “I want one.” Maybe he’ll try asking during Christmas or his next birthday.

“I’ll see what I can do, kid.”

Illarion doubted that Rylan could do anything about it. After all, Rylan was just his father’s lackey and would just follow his father’s words like it was the holy scripture.

But two days later Illarion was proven wrong.

His mother didn’t join him for dinner that day. It was just him and his father eating in silence until the door opened, revealing Rylan accompanied by a boy.

Illarion immediately focused on the boy, who seemed to be around his age. But tall, so incredibly tall. Perhaps the boy was at least two or three years older than Illarion. Ilarion blinked. The boy had striking features that mirrored Rylan’s. But where Rylan stood rigid and composed, the boy exuded an air of defiance (Another difference was that Rylan wasn’t covered with bandages and dinosaur bandaids like the boy was).

“I’m sorry about the delay,” Rylan said, ushering the boy towards the dinner table. “This is my son.”

illarion heard the boy scoff and cross his arms over his chest. And it took him a minute to notice what the boy was wearing…a pair of jeans and a tank top— so casual that it bordered on insolence.

“It’s a pleasure,” Illarion’s father murmured, taking a sip from his glass of wine. “I’ve heard so much about you, Y/N.”

The boy— who Illarion now knew as Y/N— didn’t reply until Rylan nudged him . “Likewise,” came the reply, bored and nonchalant.

Ilarion watched in disbelief as his father allowed the insolence to pass unchallenged. It was the first time he had seen anyone address the man with anything less than deference and leave unscathed.

While his father was amused, Rylan looked the opposite. Perhaps a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance (the same expression that was mirrored on his son’s face).

“Y/N,” Rylan said through gritted teeth, “Go sit beside Illarion. He’s your friend now.”

And the boy complied, dragging his feet as if the short distance to the table was a long gruesome journey in the desert with no water. Illarion watched, bewildered, as Y/N plopped onto the chair beside him with all the grace of a sullen street cat.

Illarion’s father turned to look at him for the first time that night. “He is yours to look after now, illarion.”

Ilarion stared at the boy beside him, at the bandages on his arms and the fire in his eyes. He had asked for a dog, a loyal and silent companion. What he had been given was something else entirely— a mad dog, wild and untamed.

quick yap session :) it was like three a.m. when i wrote this, partially high on caffeine and sugar. idk what i was trying to achieve with this, actually. side note, im doing this just for shit and giggles actually. don’t take this seriously.

and if you’re interested in reading, comment down below and it might encourage me to write quicker and release more parts or else this might just collect dust like most my books.

[scapinoz]

LI’S LIST OF OCS.

— illarion lucero.

mob boss and his loyal dog. [achilles and patroclus retelling] [kinda yandere] [tall, buff, male reader] [so much angst]

— aatharv zolge.

south asian cartel boss and a stripper. [female reader] [india based] [i don’t even know what i was thinking] [smexy to angst to fluff]

c.ai bot !!

— alastor albrecht.

the vampire who tries to replace his old lover with a doppelgänger. [male reader] [lanky vampire x buff werewolf] [fluff and angst] [two idiots in love] [dumb x dumber]

c.ai bot !!

— aurora zervas.

the princess and the prince’s concubine [female reader] [gl] [mostly fluff] [reader from east asia inspired region] [oblivious idiots]

[scapinoz]

OC, illarion lucero.

“The man i picked up years ago was the most dangerous animal on this earth, yet i’ve reduced him to just a lapdog.” — illarion, about his mad dog.

in a world full of beggars and cowards, illarion is a businessman. a businessman first and foremost, and only a mob boss when the doors (and windows) are closed. groomed and trained for his role since a young age (by both his father and his fatter’s right hand man). after all, the name ‘lucero’ was no small thing. one wrong mistake and he would’ve been one of those who he considers beggars.

and his only solace was his mad dog (his, all his). the son of his father’s right hand man. and his darling was also under training to take after the old man as illarion’s protector (illarion prefers the term ‘friend’ more than protector)

though it remains uncertain that whether the mad dog was illarion’s protector or it is the other way around.

— here’s your (kinda) yandere mob boss and the reader as his ‘friend’. basically kinda like an achilles and patroclus retelling. im kinda hyped for this. illarion is def one of my fav characters to write.

— keep in mind that this is a x male reader story.

MY MAD DOG (all mine).

— prologue.

— chapter one.

[scapinoz]

“In another life….”

“I would be your girl/I would make you stay, so you wouldn’t say you were the one that got away”

[scapinoz]

I support all his rights and wrongs

that is my babygirl who has done nothing wrong ever in his life

[scapinoz]

they make me sick 😭 (in a good way, ofc)

Christmas if Gojo, Shoko and Geto had been able to raise Megumi, Tsumiki, Nanako and Mimiko together (Featuring Nanami)

[scapinoz]

i need him in ways that would be offensive to humanity

the older brother >

[scapinoz]

A GUIDE TO MEMOIR, intro.

“ i would rather be in your arms for forever and a day than to sit the throne of a thousand kingdoms. ”

— li. they/them. south asian. zhongli luvbot. feeding my gambling addiction. thousand of ocs. adrian tepes enthusiast.

— masterlist. requests. ocs.

— what i write for,

genshin impact. honkai starrail. castlevania. jujutsu kaisen. tgcf. bungo stray dogs. moriarty the patriot. jojo. house of the dragon. game of thrones. acotar.

— who i write for,

male readers, female readers, gender neutral readers. oc x character.

— what i write,

canon events, high school au, mafia au, modern au, yandere, anything as long as it’s sfw.

— things to keep in mind;

I mostly write for my ocs, and there’s like a lot of them. i have my own life to tend to, so sometimes the requests may be a bit delayed. please don’t go around stealing my work as your own.

— how to request;

please send me a scenario with the character you desire, instead of just saying “can you write something for (insert character)?” specify the gender of the reader and whether you want a canon scenario or an au one.

[scapinoz]

L’APPEL DU VIDE, chapter one.

[genshin!oc x gn!reader]

note, first chapter is out after probably five months, ig. but it’s here now. do keep in mind that it was around three a.m. when i wrote this, i was half dead by then. so there might be a few mistakes here and there, I’ll edit them— i swear. also english is not my first language and i just write for fun.

warnings, implied yandere behavior, masked men, creepy men, men with weird eyes, drinking, y/n and intrusive thoughts, nothing much probably, it doesn’t get bad in the first chapter itself. written pre-snezhnaya, so it’s all interpreted not canon.

CHAPTER ONE, masked men and winter nights.

And there he was again— sitting in the corner of the room (though you must admit that the shadows dancing across his face made him quite beautiful than he already is)— eyes never leaving yours as you finished your song, relishing yourself in the familiar sound of applause from the audience (a sound you’ll never grow dull of hearing).

Everyone around you clapped their hands, some even standing up and raising their glass while they were at it. That should’ve been enough, yes? The fruits of your labour echoing through the vast room would’ve been more than enough for you back then— back then when you hadn’t noticed the masked man (a mask you were well familiar with, thank the archons for the whisperers in the streets) sitting in the reserved booth.

Your eyes, involuntary, went back to his. He was not putting his hands together for you, like everyone sitting in his table was. He only had his gaze inspecting your form without blinking. And without the slightest of hesitation you did the same, holding his regard. The missing signature black coat was the first thing that you noticed, the coat he had traded for something a little less flashy. Though the mask was yet to come off, the mask his friends (or who you assumed you were his friends, judging how ease they had been with each other) were also donning on their face.

You had seen the group a few months now, regularly visiting the bar and sitting the farthest seat from the stage— not that you minded, of course. They always seem to talking and whispering something among each other, sparing you glances here and there when you were up on stage. The man, whose name you have yet to know of, always seemed to be sitting in the middle and facing right towards you, always having his eyes on you whenever you were singing (or that’s what you had noticed whenever you open your eyes after closing them for a split second or so). Never have you ever seen them talking to anyone out of their own circle either.

‘They’ve never once talked to the waiters either, it’s the boss who always personally sees to them. Sharing laughs and shit. Who’s to guess that the boss has dealings with such people.’ was your coworkers answer when you inquired about them. You knew what she had meant by with such people, everyone around the bar knew— the fatui, those who control every aspect of the land of everlasting winter. Everyone around the bar knew of the fatui and were cautious enough not to seek them. And one who was stupid enough got his hand broken just last week— it was what you assumed was a warning. You had heard stories and witnessed the cruelty of the ruling by your own eyes. The fatui were not kind people, not in your eyes lest say. And to think some of them would be actually sitting by a bar listening to your sing out your sorrows for mora, you could only laugh.

‘I heard they work under the fifth,’ Ana said one night when you were lying in her lap as she was combing your hair. ‘they wear his colours as well— black and silver— and the masks are just another giveaway. And they also seem to be here when it is you who is performing.’ Ana chuckled as she had seen how wide your eyes gotten when you heard that. You hadn’t stuck around enough to notice, you had better things to do in your day offs than to spend your day in a bar. You had denied her claims, saying it was simply a co incidence and that fate works in very mysterious ways. Ana could only chuckle and asked you to live in your own dream fort for the time being.

And yet seeing how he was looking at you from the back could not stop yourself from believing your friend’s words for a moment— just for a moment. Just simply for a few seconds as you hurried off the stage and into the backstage, the sound of hands clapping against each other still reaching you. And there was no way they could be here for you.

“[name],” Your boss, Kolya, patted your back with the usual smile. “Great job as always.” You nodded, dutifully. “It would not hurt to smile a little, would it? Or had you grown tired of synthetically smiling?”

Gods, never a day passes where you do not curse your employer and wish the amount of firewater he consumes would deem him mute some day. “You must do what’s expected of you, synthetic or not.”

“Yes, yes, expectations.” He chuckled. “Always weighing one down.”

Kolya Mikhalov was not someone you had expected to work for— not someone you had expected to cross paths with, if being honest. Kolya Mikhalov was the man who took one look at you and decided that you were deemed worthy enough to sing in his fine establishment no matter how many times you had suggested hiring a bard and being done with the fuss he was making.

His name was one whispered among the streets ever so often, a name you’ve heard so often. ‘That man who is trying to coax you into working for him,’ the apple vendor muttered one day. ‘I heard he has connections with the fatui.’ He said. And it was all the more reasons why you urged yourself to get away from the man. Everything about him which screams danger. You had underestimated Kolya and his stubbornness when he said “I am not one to give up easily.”

And so he had waited for you to say yes to offer for nearly two months— following you everywhere you go, paying bards to sing praises of your hauntingly beautiful voice, and even showing up right outside your house with his staff. Surely Kolya Mikhalov was the most eccentric man you had ever encountered— and that simply explains the elctro vision in his left glove. And so you did give in to the endless pestering, and thus resulting you standing in the very same establishment you never vowed to work in.

Kolya leaned in slightly, making you move out of the way. “You look as if you want to ask me something.” Shaking your head you waved him off. Yet Kolya was never to one to falter. “Oh, I’m quite excited about your question. This is the first time you ever showed interest in something which is not dogs.”

“The people sitting at the back of the room,” You said, choosing your next words with much heed. “Are they part of the fatui?”

“Yes.”

You blinked once, then twice— clearly not expecting Kolya to blunt with his words. You perhaps thought that he would coax you into believing otherwise. “What?”

“They are indeed part of the fatui, working under the fifth. I thought the coat and the mask was obvious enough.”

Kolya looked at you, the smile never leaving his face. He tilted his head, very slightly, expecting you to ask more questions. Questions as to how he had ties with them and such. You were never one to pry, we’re you? Everyone had their secrets and you have no business inserting yourself in matters that do not concern you.

So what if your boss has ties with the fatui? It doesn’t matter as long as you get paid, you’ll do your job without any questions asked.

“I see,”

“Oh, and,” Kolya dug his pockets searching for something. He handed you a velvet box. “I was asked to give you this. Seems like you’ve gained quite the admirers, [name].”

You reluctantly opened the box— knowing Kolya was still peeking. “By the seven,” in laid a bracelet— one so intricately crafted. It was gold, probably embedded with the finest gems from Liyue. You didn’t have much knowledge in jewellery but one look at the bracelet and you knew it must’ve cost a fortune.

had you attracted the attention of a man so rich that he could afford this as a passing present?

Admirers, huh.

The nights were not kind in Snezhnaya, nor were the days but yet the night was far more cruel than the days. At least you will be able to see the dangers under the sun while you could simply just feel eyes on your back as you walked underneath the moonlight. You gripped the strap of your bag tighter, never once turning around to look around you— it was never a good idea, as Ana would say.

You weren’t very fond of nights like these— cold and lonely nights that makes you wish you had someone to hold you and keep you warm against their body. Always a knack for impossible dreams, yes? You didn’t particularly wish for a partner, that much you were sure of. But nights like these brings you think that perhaps you should find someone— someone to cure the loneliness and the cold. The thought only ever crosses your mind at nights like these.

“Dangerous night to walk alone,” Instinctively you pushed your elbow back, expecting it to hit the stranger and not for them to catch it. “Rather cynical now, aren’t we?” The person muttered, gloved hands finally leaving your bare skin. “You appeared a lot more demure on the stage. It’s not safe for you to walk alone.”

Turning around, you rubbed your elbow. “Gods,” It was the same man from the bar, the very same one who couldn’t get his eyes away from you. “Why are you here?” You started walking again, paying no mind to him walking beside you.

“Kolya put me up to it when he noticed a few drunkards trying to follow you.” He answered.

Eyes wide you looked around, looking for any sign of being followed. “I see no one.”

“They were taken care of.” He said. “Kolya specifically asked me to walk you home, said he wanted his favourite employee out of harms way.”

Typical Kolya.

You nodded, inspecting the man beside you— you never got the chance to see his full figure, after all. And as you had already expected he was nearly half a head taller than you and lean— though the outline of muscles present through his shirt already said all you need to know. Black hair that reached right below his shoulders and the bangs even covering one side of his mask ( hair that almost made you have second thoughts about yours ). Though it was his eyes what drew you in. His eyes reminded you of the starry nights after the storm— black eyes with specks of gold and silver dancing around them.

Where you shamelessly ogling this man? Of course. Would you admit it if he were to ask you about it? You would simply dig your own grave and lie in it, for sure.

And it seemed like he didn’t mind you staring at him— without even realising that you were staring. ( maybe you were aware, you simply did not care enough. Pretty people are to be appreciated, the thought came in your mind quickly as it left as you realized he was part of the fatui. ) He cleared his throat making you snap out of it, feeling slightly embarrassed and made a mental note to never do it again. ( though you knew you would do it all over again. )

“My name is,” Was it really safe to mention your name to a stranger— a fatui nonetheless. “[name].” Curse the Archons, how stupid could you get.

“I know, Kolya told me.” You nodded, pursing your lips. The silence was awkward as it was painful to bear. The only noise reaching your ears was the sound of snow underneath your boots, and not his. He walked gently, almost tempting you ask if he believed the snow had feelings.

“And you are?” Another mistake made.

The man looked at you, the blank look on his face never fading away. “Zhenya,” He, who you now know as Zhenya, whispered— almost as if he was afraid someone else might overhear him. “I work…under the fifth harbinger.”

“I know, rumours are hard to ignore.” The mask speaks for itself, you wanted to say and yet didn’t. You heard him mutter something under his breath, words flowing away with the wind. “So, you come to the tavern often?” You muttered, cursing yourself internally to simply shut up with each passing word that left you lips.

You didn’t hear an answer from him, just slow breathing as you felt his eyes on your figure as you looked down at the ground, trying to convince yourself that the plain white snow you’ve been seeing for years now was more interesting than whatever that was going on in his eye. “Yes,” Zhenya finally said, his voice probably gentler and softer than yours ever could be. “Kolya— he often bugs me to visit.” He added after a minute had passed.

That sure did sound like Kolya— annoying, vexing and often frustrating. not that you would ever say it out aloud, of course. ( you valued your life more than a few passing sarcastic comments that you brain was so fond of coming up with, thank you very much. )

You simply nodded as the pair of you continued walking, as you often let out soft breaths, shivering slightly from the cold even though you had your coat and gloves on. It would be nice if this man beside me were to wrap his coat around me, like form the romance books Ana is fond of. you found yourself thinking before quickly shaking off the thoughts. No, [name], bad man. He’s part of the fatui, [name].

Where did the thought even come from?

“Do you live far from here?” Zhenya asked, making you blink twice as you were snapped out of your thoughts.

You shook your head, pursing your lips to stop your teeth from clattering. Surely you wouldn’t make a fool out of yourself in front of this gorgeous, gorgeous man. “No, just around the corner.”

It usually only took fifteen to reach your home but it felt like an eternity with the man walking by your side. He hadn’t even opened this mouth once, except for when letting out soft inhale and exhaled. You were sure that it must’ve been a little uncomfortable to breathe beneath that mask during the winter. ( then again it was always winter ).

You stood in front of your house— a modest home, one that you were proud of. “Thank you,” you managed to murmur out as you both stood outside the door, one hand inside your pockets as you fished out for your keys.

The man, Zhenya, nodded. “Nothing worth mentioning.” He said.

You were almost tempted to invite him inside, offering to let him stay by the fireplace and hand him a glass of fire whiskey to heat his skin up before heading out. Who knows how far away he lived?

No, no, part of the fatui, you reminded yourself, sighing in relief as you finally found your keys. Ignoring the stare burning through your layers and layers of clothing you finally opened the door, whispering a small “good bye,” under your breath.

And before you closed the door behind you, you heard him say something akin to, “I hope you like the bracelet.”

i genuinely had no idea what i was thinking when i wrote this. but i somehow managed to. how are we liking y/n so far? and zhenya (ew). y/n and ana for the win. zhenya who? never heard of him.

and if anyone couldn’t tell, zhenya’s kinda a uandere, ig. so this fic might turn out a little darker than intended. he’s also a part of the fatui, so there might be more…gore? but yeah, he’s not a good guy, that’s for sure.

[scapinoz]

L’APPEL DU VIDE, genshin impact.

note, well for starters i have no idea how to use this app without having a breakdown yet here we are since i simply could not hold back myself from doing this. so, here we are, my genshin oc finally getting written down (i still hate him).

synopsis, scapino, the fourth of the twelve and the escape artist, wasn’t always the loyal hound he showed himself to be.

warning, mentions of blood, attempted murder & assassinations. scapino himself is a huge warning. usual fatui agendas. usage of weapons and such. aether as traveler because abyss lumine is girlboss.

PROLOGUE,

Scapino was simply just another pawn— a pawn in the greater game ahead— that much he acknowledged. He shall do ask they ask, and move to any square they command him to— always ahead and never back. He wasn’t unsettled by the fact that one day he would be discarded, thrown away from the board— perhaps because he was asked to make the wrong move or maybe perhaps he was a sacrifice in taking a small step towards his creator’s plans. All the pieces will eventually perish, my son his father had said, not once but over a thousand times; almost reminding his younger self of his position (and maybe perhaps his future as well, but Scapino didn’t understand that back then). And he could do nothing but accept the inevitable, afterall what was a pawn compared to any other pieces on the board?

Scapino was simply just another pawn— just a pawn, not a rook nor a knight, just a pawn— and he was reminded of the actuality of his situation every now and then. Scapino, though a harbinger, was no one of importance compared to his associates. Surely he knew that he was not a survivor of a fallen nation, or a puppet who was meant for greatness, nor was he someone who survived the abyss at his younger ages. No, No, Scapino was just a pawn— someone who was solely there to take over his father’s place among the twelve. His father may have been the bishop in the board but Scapino was simply another piece— nothing of importance, something that could be easily replaced by another piece (he knew that better than anyone, of course).

Scapino was simply just another pawn— a pawn that could be stuck down any moment. Scapino was well aware of the walking dangers; he was aware of the phantom sillouhoutes shadowing his every step, always keen on sheathing and hiding their blade the moment he glances over his shoulder (even ones from the same organization he had been from). He had known about the perils beforehand— he had seen his father come home with bruises and bloodied gloves (yet the blood was never his, as far as Scapino knew). He had known that everyone would look at him differently, the mothers directing their children away from him and the men clamouring out of the streets everytime they see him. And surely all of them knew, as much as he did, that one day he too would be replaced like his father once was. And Scapino could tell that they were all indeed waiting for that day to rise. For the pawn to be discarded from the board.

Scapino was simply just another pawn— a soldier, nothing more or nothing less. Scapino was not a diplomat, a banker or even a leader; Scapino was a soldier, a killer if he would have to word it better. Scapino’s purpose was not one of peace, but it was rather quite the opposite. Scapino, the fifth of the twelve harbingers, he had been the one to wage wars in the name of her highness— to bring victory and the heads of her enemies to her feet. Scapino’s purpose was not to protect but to destroy (though he found it quite amusing that he and his subordinates were always patrolling around the borders, always looking for any present threat. He supposes that he did protect the land to an extent). He knew his purpose, he accepted what her excellency had thought was best for him— and never once had he acted against her words. Just like a dog. And that’s just what he was in the eyes of everyone around Teyvat, her excellency’s loyal guard dog who wouldn’t hesitate to seperate your head from your shoulder if you ever even breathe an air of hostility against the Tsaritsa.

And Scapino, Scapino had never denied it. For what was he if not a pawn in the game of the divines? For how pertinent was he if he was not used in the game? What was his purpose if not to destory in the name of her majesty? That was all he was good for— following orders and being played.

Everyone in the land of everlasting winter had heard about the tale of the loyal hound— the tale of a harbinger who succeeded his father’s throne after his demise. Everyone had it memorized it by heart for it was really not that much big of a story. Everyone knew of the story and everyone also knew of the loyalty Scapino held for his Archon.

Everyone has heard of the tale about the loyal hound and yet no one in Snezhnaya had ever heard about how the hound bit the hand that fed him (Scapino knew that no one ever will— her majesty’s orders that no one will ever hear of the ultimate betrayal). None of the civilians knew of it, not even the foot soldiers were informed about the events that took place. No one has been informed about the duel before the throne— a duel between the escape artist and the captain— a duel that Scapino lost (and of course, was he really a match for Capitano?). Not everyone who knew of the story of the hound were fortunate enough to know the ending to it, only those who were resided in the palace that night had been fortunate enough to witness the dance of blades between an artist and a captain. And yet everyone’s mouths had been sealed shut— direct orders from her majesty Pierro had said before Scapino had been dragged away to the dungeon, the last words he heard (that and Dottore’s laughter, of course, Scapino could never forget that laugh).

And so the pawn was discarded from the game— only to become the master of his own game. When the pawn reaches the other side of the board it could be anything you want it to be, his father had once explained the rules of the chess board when he was quite young. And so Scapino’s treachery is what led him directly to the other side of the board— by the hands of his own master nonetheless.

And he wasn’t called the escape artist without a reason. Hence he had left his motherland behind— godless and branded a traitor by his family— to make his journey towards the city of freedom. All to find the wandering travler seeking his sister.

god, i hope this man lives a pitiful life and he realises that capitano doesn’t return his affections. also scapino, well, how are we all liking him so far? and the thing is scapino isn’t my first genshin oc. we have rayne gunnhildr (has the hots for diluc, as he should), ren/seir (an adeptus) from liyue and alvira amana (has a thing with both *cough* alhaitham & *cough* kaveh) from sumeru. so, fics for them or are we leaving them in the basement to rot?

fun fact— scapino’s father’s title was Brighella and he assisted in finding something very peculiar— something that helped the fatui become a little more powerful.