#kunikuzushi scenarios

[ballads-for-kuni]

My Guiding Light (Pt. 3)

Masterlist || < Part 2 | Part 4 >

A short, succinct letter to Dottore, an almost illegibly scribbled reply from the madman himself, and he meets The Doctor in the Land of Wisdom.

The Second’s plan for his ascension to godhood only truly begins once the Doctor convinces the Sages of their blasphemous plan.

It doesn’t take as long as he would’ve thought it would.

Sumeru has a child god, found lying in the same place where their god, Sumeru’s Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, had fallen, presumed dead. A child, with no memory and no measurable wisdom to speak of, how could she rule the Nation of Wisdom, then?

And on the other hand, a puppet, made with divine hands and lived for approximately 500 years, almost as old as the Cataclysm itself, filled with worldly knowledge and painfully learned wisdom.

Which would be the better choice?

In that vein of thought, I suppose it was a bit too easy to convince them, he thinks, standing to the side and leaning against the wall, watching the proceedings boredly as the mad Doctor proceeds to rally the room to agree with his Archons-forsaken plan.

He only cares if they agree.

The Sages agree.

With no god to rule them, Sumeru falls to the hands of mortals, the Grand Sage Azar being old and nearing the end of his career, Scaramouche can tell. A few more years, and he’ll be a raving mad lunatic in the halls of the Akademiya, banished to Aaru Village himself.

So they desire a god to lead them, a divine being to rule them. Agreement to the Second’s plan is easy and unanimous, and so they begin.

Pain is not unfamiliar to the puppet, and a few more months of it is nothing compared to how long he was intended to live.

He bears it and ascends as Sumeru’s false god.

And then the Traveller reappears.

It reminds him of his star’s last chiding.

Unkind and dishonourable.

Angry at himself for disappointing his only guardian, and guilty for having to do it again, he throws himself into battle, desperately trying to prove he is better than who he was before.

The clash of blade against elements resounds in the workshop, and his fury bubbles over.

And then he falls.

The little god had put him through a hundred and sixty-eight samsaras to ensure the Traveller would survive and be victorious.

His pride wounded, his gnosis taken, and his existence now useless, he resigned himself to fate: a lifetime of atonement and painful reparations.

And when he wakes, his new owner has a task for him.

Walking into Irminsul, he realises the truth of his past. He was never betrayed; he was deceived. By the Doctor himself, the insolent worm.

Furious, he asks the Traveller if the past can be changed.

Their wide-eyed non-answer is answer enough.

He vanishes into Irminsul, and the Traveller is left standing in shock.

He has a lifetime’s worth of pain to give that blueberry bastard.

[devosin]

— FUCK I'M PATHETIC !! ♡. Synopsis : Ever seen someone on a screen as a child, and thought, “I’ll marry them when I grow up!”, . . well Kunikuzushi—more popularly known as the WANDERER—a famous artist and even more well-known singer who took the stage by storm 8 years ago, taking over the media for his various scandals—took that idea a bit too seriously. He swears it was just a small interest in you, in your life—the obsession with how you hit your downward spiral from fame—he was curious, as most fans were, but fuck did that obsession spiral only downwards—ever since he saw you again, the one and only Y/N L/N—previously an actor and even singer part time, who had left the stage presence about three years ago—when news of their divorce hit the media and everyone was in shock—you and your ex-husband were the Hollywood IT couple, and yet everything on screen wasn’t always true—for the last couple years you’ve been figuring out your life with your, now 6 year old son, and the in’s and outs of co-parenting . . recently you’ve decided to re-enter the media—only to meet an artist, who’s more then a little interested in your life.

— What to expect ? ! : Celebrity au, modern au, tortured artist core, smau, complicated relationships, stalker x stalkee, forced proximity, age gap (user is older by 5 years), twisted wonderland crossover, comedy, Scaramouche is well . . boy failure, single parenthood, reader is gender neutral but referred to as 'mama' or 'mommy', slowburn, co-parenting, obsessive themes, mentions/usage of drugs, suggestive themes . . ♡

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, once a week !! " for everyone losing hope and their faith in love, in need of a reminder . . . <3 "

♡. profiles : our main leads . .

PROLOGUE !!

♡. grwm emo edition ♡. nara smith wannabe

— taglist ♡ ; @scaraenthusiast1 , @aruatsu , @skyoverkill1 , @eternallykira-143 , @ilovwfurina , @shidouuuliner , @shynsgore , @saechiro , @reivelmin , @usagiarchive , @shyentsmissingink , @shutingstar , @boxdisappeared , @rizakari , @suzueuieeeee , @mywillt0live , @ddurandals , @lxkeeeee , @ariesloves , @potteraep , @kyonuuu , @eternal-dokja , @state-of-grac3 , @heusalettle , @lalalaloveallmydays , @kaitoshandholder , @imnotyizhuo , @hydration-is-for-weenies , @forgotten-blues , @jayzioxx , @usagiarchive , @lucid1tty , @jiminscarmex , @gl00muraaii ,

♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[fangdokja]

:D oooh, I love those things where Scara isolates the reader so that she becomes reliant on his ass. So basically, psychological torture, please?

Your body is chained, but your mind? Still free. Or is it?

❤︎ Synopsis. Trapped in a mind game where love is a weapon and escape is impossible, you’ll learn that survival means surrendering to his twisted obsession. But as his control tightens, you’ll wonder: Are you his prisoner, or his willing prey?

♡ Book. World Ablaze (WA): For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem. Reader

♡ Novelette. #1 - Lover or Captor?

♡ Word Count. 10,821

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, psychological torture, manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, threats, BDSM, psychological torture, Stockholm Syndrome, force feeding, uncomfortable food descriptions, control over food and water, implied kidnapping

♡ A/N. No problem. I genuinely enjoy writing all forms of torture. I’d say this is soft Scaramouche to be honest. But that’s just me. Since manipulation of circumstances pre-kidnapping is a classic (but also a traditional cliche at times), I decided to make some small fun facts on how psychological torture works in general. Also, do note that this has a different writing (especially formatting and plot progression) style from my usual works, but that’s the point… And, low-key got sick of editing this haha. But that’s nothing new. Either way, hope you guys enjoy :))

He watches you with an intensity that burns hotter than the static hum of the electro mist surrounding the enclosed space he calls home—your prison. His eyes, sharp like the edge of a newly forged blade, track every movement you make, every twitch of your fingers, every shallow breath you take. There is no escaping his scrutiny, no moment where his gaze isn’t a weight you carry as if he’s carved himself into your very existence.

“You’re trembling again,” he murmurs, his voice a lilt of mockery wrapped in silk, carrying an undercurrent of something darker. He’s closer now, the faintest scent of ozone and metal clinging to his presence. He’s always so near, yet somehow never close enough for you to strike—not that you have the strength anymore. His manipulation has bled you dry, turned your once vibrant spirit into a pale echo of itself.

“Have I scared you that much?” he continues, his tone like an echo of thunder in a storm, half-amused and wholly cruel. He kneels before you, tilting his head as if studying a particularly interesting experiment, and you wish, not for the first time, that he would lose interest in his obsession. But you know better than to hope; hope is a fragile thing here, something he’s crushed beneath his heel more times than you can count.

Your legs are bound, wrists tethered together with some unbreakable material that bites into your skin when you move too much. Not that movement helps. He’s seen to that too. The chains are just as much a part of his games as the room itself: walls painted in endless monotones, no windows, only a single dim light that flickers faintly, threatening to plunge you into complete darkness at any moment. He’s told you before that he’d like to see what the dark does to you—what he could do to you while you’re blind and helpless.

“Tell me,” he says now, his hand reaching forward to brush against your cheek. His touch is deceptively gentle, a lover’s caress that belies the brutality hiding beneath the surface. “Have you learned to appreciate me yet?”

You flinch but don’t answer. Words are a dangerous currency here. Silence earns punishment; speech earns worse. You’ve been caught in his web long enough to know the rules of his game are meant to ensure one thing: total control. But your defiance—the last ember of it—makes you cling to the belief that your silence is an act of rebellion, however small.

He chuckles lowly, the sound reverberating through the empty room. “Still so stubborn,” he muses, fingers now tracing the line of your jaw. “I admire that about you, you know. That fight in your eyes. But it’s exhausting for you, isn’t it? Fighting me? Fighting this?” He leans in, so close that you feel the ghost of his breath against your ear. “Do you think anyone’s coming for you? That they even remember you?”

Your stomach twists, a sick knot of despair and anger. His words are poison, injected carefully and methodically into your psyche.

“I erased you,” he whispers, his voice soft but cold enough to freeze your blood. “From their memories, from their lives. Your friends? Gone. Your family? They don’t even remember your face. Isn’t that a kindness, though? Sparing them the grief of losing you?”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, searching for the cracks he’s so meticulously created. “Do you hate me for it?”

You do. You hate him with a depth that frightens you. But you say nothing, your lips trembling as you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing it aloud. His expression shifts, a flicker of annoyance crossing his otherwise perfect features, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came.

“Hate me all you want,” he says, his tone growing harder, sharper. “But you will love me. In the end, you always will.”

He stands, his shadow towering over you as he looks down, his smirk returning like a blade pressed to your throat. “I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he says, turning and heading toward the door. “But don’t take too long. I’m not a patient man.”

The door closes with a deafening finality, and you’re left alone in the dim, flickering light. Alone with your thoughts, your fear, and the suffocating realization that he’s right. He’s always right. The world has forgotten you, and all you have left is him.

And isn’t that the cruelest truth of all?

────────────

The room is a void—a cage designed not to hold your body, but to unspool your mind held by fragile thread. The walls are stark and featureless, smooth metal panels that offer no hint of escape. There are no windows, no visible doors, just the cold hum of fluorescent lights that seem to dim and brighten at random intervals, casting shadows that twist and crawl.

The air is heavy, oppressive, suffused with his presence even though he’s nowhere to be seen. You can feel him, though—lurking in the corners of your mind, a phantom stitched into your every thought. His voice crackles through the static-filled speakers embedded in the walls, sharp and invasive, like glass scraping against your skull.

“Lonely yet?”

You flinch at the sound, your knees drawing tighter to your chest. His voice is smooth and mocking, curling around your mind like barbed wire.

“I told you this is for your own good,” he continues, each word laced with a venomous sweetness. “Out there, the world would devour you. I’m saving you, little fool. But gratitude? That’s too much to ask, isn’t it?”

You press your hands over your ears, as if that could block him out. But his voice doesn’t come from the speakers anymore. It comes from everywhere. From nowhere. It vibrates in your bones, coils in your gut, whispers in the back of your skull until you’re certain it’s your own thoughts betraying you.

The silence that follows is worse. It’s his silence—calculated, suffocating, a predator’s patience as it watches its prey wear itself down. Hours stretch into days, or maybe longer. Time is meaningless here. The lack of human contact gnaws at your sanity, leaving only the relentless pounding of your heartbeat to fill the void.

Then, finally, his voice returns, and despite the fear it brings, a twisted part of you clings to it like a lifeline.

“Look at you,” he purrs, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “So fragile. So desperate. Do you see now? No one else will come for you. Only me.”

The words settle over you like ash, suffocating and final.

And then he’s there.

The walls don’t open. He doesn’t step through a door. He’s just there, as if he’s always been there, a seamless extension of the room’s nightmarish design. The dim, artificial light casts a sickly glow over his features, making him look less human and more like a living doll—perfectly crafted, flawlessly sculpted, and utterly devoid of warmth. His smile is delicate, a razor-thin line that glints with malice beneath its veneer of sweetness.

“You’re quiet today,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvety hum that sends shivers racing down your spine.

He moves closer, his boots clicking sharply against the metallic floor. The sound is deliberate, each step a calculated reminder of his control, his dominion over this place, over you. His presence fills the room, overwhelming, suffocating.

“I wonder,” he continues, stopping just short of where you sit, “is it silence out of submission? Or defiance?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Words catch in your throat, strangled by the weight of his gaze.

He crouches before you, his movements slow, fluid, and predatory. His violet eyes gleam in the half-light, shimmering with something dark and unreadable. They lock onto yours, pinning you in place, and the room seems to shrink further, the walls pressing closer until there’s nothing but him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, his voice a velvet glove hiding an iron fist.

Your head moves of its own accord, your body betraying you as your eyes meet his. The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and the sight of it is both intoxicating and nauseating.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, his gloved hand reaching out to cup your face. His touch is achingly gentle, a cruel mimicry of tenderness, but his grip tightens just enough to remind you of his strength. Of your helplessness.

“You’ve been imagining things again, haven’t you?” he whispers, his tone almost pitying. “Seeing shadows where there are none. Hearing whispers in the dark. Poor little thing.”

He tilts his head, studying you like a scientist dissecting a specimen. The artificial light casts eerie reflections in his eyes, making them glint like shards of broken glass.

“Do you know what isolation does to the human brain?” he asks, his tone conversational, almost curious. “Deprive it of stimuli long enough, and it starts to turn on itself. Hallucinations. Paranoia. A complete collapse of the psyche.”

He leans closer, his breath brushing against your lips, his eyes boring into yours.

“But you’re not imagining me,” he says softly, his smile widening into something sharp, something cruel. “I’m as real as the blood under your nails, the bruises on your wrists.”

Your breath catches as his thumb brushes over your temple, the motion deceptively soothing. But then his fingers tighten, his nails digging into your skin.

“And do you know what the best part is?” he whispers, his voice dropping to a chilling hush. “You’ll beg for more. For me. Because I’m all you have left.”

The walls seem to close in entirely, the air growing colder, heavier, until it feels like you’re drowning in his presence. And through it all, his smile remains, a grotesque mockery of kindness, as he whispers again,

“Lonely yet?”

────────────

The camera in the corner of the room stares at you, its red light pulsing steadily like a heartbeat—like his heartbeat, if he had one. You can feel it watching, a cold, unblinking eye that absorbs every movement, every shallow breath. It’s not just the camera, though. The walls themselves seem to hum with an unseen energy, a constant reminder of the wires and devices hidden just beneath the surface, all tuned to you.

“You’ve always had a penchant for dramatics,” his voice crackles through the speaker embedded high above, sudden and sharp. You flinch, instinctively shrinking against the edge of the bed, the metal frame digging into your spine. “But let’s not make this more unpleasant than it needs to be. You know I’m only doing this for your own good.”

The static lingers, like the ghost of his presence, before dissolving into the oppressive silence that dominates your world.

———

Later, you find it—a book, an old one, its spine cracked and worn. A piece of the life you once had. The familiar weight of it in your hands brings a flicker of warmth to your chest. You don’t know how it got here or why he would allow you something so small yet so meaningful, but you don’t question it. You simply clutch it to your chest, savoring the moment.

But then, he arrives.

He stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his silhouette framed by the dim, flickering light. His eyes—those violet pools of cruelty and calculation—narrow as they land on the book in your hands.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, his voice calm, but there’s a cold edge to it, like a blade hidden in velvet.

“I—I found it,” you stammer, clutching the book tighter as if it might shield you from the inevitable.

He doesn’t move, but the air around him seems to shift, thickening with something unspoken. “Interesting,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his footsteps deliberate and measured. “You’re quite resourceful, aren’t you? Always finding ways to entertain yourself.”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

When he reaches you, he kneels, his movements fluid and precise, like a predator cornering its prey. He plucks the book from your hands with deceptive gentleness, his slender fingers brushing against yours for a moment too long.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, turning the book over in his hands as though it were an artifact of immeasurable value. “A relic. A fragment of something that doesn’t exist anymore. Like you.”

His words sting, but before you can process them, he tightens his grip on the book. With a sudden, violent motion, he tears it in half, the brittle pages scattering like ash across the floor.

“Nothing from before matters,” he says, his tone cool, almost clinical, as he rises to his feet. “You don’t need distractions. You need me.”

———

That night, you try to sleep, but the room refuses to let you. The lights flicker intermittently, each burst of brightness searing your eyes through closed lids. A low, grating hum emanates from somewhere in the walls, setting your teeth on edge.

And then, the noise.

It starts as a soft, rhythmic tapping, like the distant sound of rain against glass. But it grows louder, more insistent, until it feels like it’s coming from inside your skull. You bolt upright, your breath ragged, your body drenched in cold sweat.

“You’re restless,” his voice coos from the speaker, smooth and mocking. “Didn’t I tell you to rest? Or are you defying me again?”

“I—stop it,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Stop what?” he replies, feigning innocence. “You’re imagining things again. Poor thing. You really should trust me more. I can help you.”

The noise stops abruptly, leaving an aching silence in its wake. You collapse back onto the bed, your body too exhausted to fight anymore.

———

The next morning, you stumble into the small, sterile kitchenette, your limbs heavy with fatigue. The stove is on—flames licking at the edges of a pan you don’t remember lighting. The smell of something burning fills the air, acrid and choking.

“Careless,” he says, leaning casually against the doorway, his arms crossed. “You could’ve burned the whole place down.”

“I didn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“No excuses,” he snaps, his voice sharp as a whip. “You’re lucky I caught it in time. Do you see now why you can’t be trusted? Why you need me?”

You want to argue, to scream that it wasn’t you, that he must have done it himself. But the words die in your throat as his gaze pierces through you, cold and unrelenting.

────────────

The silence stretches into infinity, interrupted only by your own ragged breaths and the phantom echoes of his voice that claw at your psyche. You don’t know when he’ll speak again or if he’s watching, but the not knowing is part of the torment.

When his voice finally breaks the silence, it’s so sudden and sharp it feels like the snap of a guillotine.

“Still holding onto hope, are you?” His voice is soft, almost tender, a cruel mockery of comfort. “I admire your persistence. It’s… quaint.”

His tone is calm, calculated, each word chosen with the precision of a scalpel. It cuts through the fog in your mind, forcing you to confront the reality he’s woven around you.

“You think someone’s coming for you?” he continues, his voice dripping with incredulity. “How adorably naïve. Do you even remember what it’s like out there? The noise, the chaos, the endless parade of fools clawing at one another for scraps of meaning. I’ve spared you from that, haven’t I?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The lump in your throat feels like it’s suffocating you, and the weight of his words presses down on your chest until it feels like your ribs might crack.

“Nothing to say?” he muses. “That’s fine. I prefer you this way—quiet. It suits you.”

———

You didn’t hear a door open. Didn’t hear the telltale click of boots against the floor. One moment you’re alone, and the next he’s standing there, a figure carved from shadow and disdain. The dim light paints him in stark relief, illuminating the sharp angles of his face, the cold glint in his violet eyes.

“I’ve been generous with you,” he says, his voice low and steady, like the distant rumble of thunder. He steps closer, each movement precise, deliberate, as though he’s stalking prey. “I’ve given you time to adjust, to see the truth. But you…” His lips curl into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “…You insist on clinging to those foolish little scraps of defiance.”

You flinch as he crouches before you, his gaze leveling with yours. His expression is unreadable, a mask of icy detachment that barely conceals the storm simmering beneath.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “What exactly are you holding onto? A memory? A promise? Hope?”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing as he studies you with an intensity that feels like it could peel back your skin, exposing every raw nerve beneath.

“You don’t even know, do you?” he says, almost pitying. “You’re just… grasping. Blind and desperate. It’s pathetic, really.”

His hand reaches out, and you flinch again, but he doesn’t touch you. Instead, his fingers hover just above your face, as though he’s considering it, savoring the moment.

“You’re so fragile,” he breathes, his tone a mix of fascination and contempt. “It wouldn’t take much to break you, you know. A little pressure here…” His hand shifts, his fingers ghosting over your temple. “…And here.”

His other hand moves to hover over your throat, and your breath catches.

“But where’s the fun in that?” he muses, withdrawing his hands with a slow, deliberate grace. “Breaking you would be easy. No. I want you to understand.”

He leans in closer, his breath brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to a dark, intimate whisper.

“I want you to know that every moment you spend here is a gift. My gift. And when you finally shatter, when you finally look at me with nothing but submission in those eyes…” He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his smirk sharpening into something vicious. “…That’s when you’ll understand. That’s when you’ll thank me.”

The air feels thicker, heavier, suffused with his presence. The room spins around you, the walls closing in, the ground tilting beneath you. And through it all, his voice lingers, wrapping around your thoughts like a noose.

“No one else will come for you,” he says, standing to his full height, towering over you. “No one else can. It’s just you and me now. Forever.”

He turns to leave—or does he? The edges of your vision blur, the lines between reality and nightmare dissolving as his voice echoes through the void one last time.

“Stop fighting it, little fool. Stop fighting me.”

────────────

The first thing you notice when you wake is the cold. It bites into your skin, gnaws at your bones, wrapping itself around you like a second, crueler layer of flesh. The thin, threadbare shift you wear does nothing to shield you from it, the fabric clinging to your body with a dampness that reeks of mildew and despair.

The blankets are gone again. He always takes them when you displease him.

Your stomach churns with the memory of his last visit—the quiet menace in his voice, the way he tilted his head as he watched you scramble to piece together what was left of your broken dignity.

“You want comfort?” he had said, his tone laced with derision. “Earn it.”

You had begged—how could you not?—but he only smiled, a thin, sharp curve of his lips that cut deeper than any blade. And then he was gone, taking with him not only the blankets but the small, chipped bowl you had been using to collect water from the condensation that dripped sporadically from the ceiling.

Now, the thirst claws at your throat, dry and insistent. You press your lips together, trying to ignore it, but it’s impossible. Every breath feels like sandpaper scraping against raw flesh.

———

When he finally returns, it’s without fanfare. The door—a seamless part of the wall when shut—slides open with a faint hiss, and he steps inside, his violet eyes sharp and calculating. He’s carrying something this time: a bundle of what looks like clothing, though you’ve learned not to trust appearances.

“You look worse than usual,” he remarks, his gaze sweeping over you like a scientist observing a failed experiment. “Pathetic.”

You flinch at the word, but you don’t respond. Experience has taught you that anything you say will only feed his twisted sense of superiority.

He crouches before you, placing the bundle on the floor between you. It’s not clothing, you realize, but a single, thick blanket. It looks warm, inviting—an impossible luxury in this place.

“Do you want it?” he asks, his voice soft, almost coaxing.

You hesitate, your body aching for the warmth it promises. But you know better than to trust him.

“What do you want me to do?” you whisper, your voice hoarse from disuse.

His smile sharpens, a flash of white against the shadows of his face. “You’re learning,” he murmurs. “Good.”

He stands, taking a step back and gesturing to the far corner of the room. There, you see it: a tray of food, simple but sufficient—bread, water, a small portion of fruit. Your stomach growls at the sight, a humiliating reminder of your hunger.

“Eat,” he says, his tone light, as if he’s offering you a gift.

You don’t move. It’s too easy. There’s always a catch.

He chuckles, a low, mirthless sound. “Ah, still suspicious. How charming.”

He walks to the tray and picks up the cup of water, holding it up to the dim light as if inspecting it. Then, without warning, he tilts it, letting the liquid spill onto the floor.

“No!” The word escapes you before you can stop it, a raw, desperate plea.

He turns to you, his expression unreadable. “Prove to me,” he says slowly, deliberately, “that you deserve it. That you can follow simple instructions.”

“What do you want?” you ask again, your voice trembling.

His gaze narrows, and he steps closer, the soles of his boots crushing the bread beneath them as he walks. He crouches before you again, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away.

“Crawl,” he says simply.

The word hangs in the air, a command and a taunt all at once.

Your body stiffens, shame warring with desperation.

“Crawl,” he repeats, his voice harder this time, the veneer of gentleness cracking to reveal the steel beneath.

You hesitate, and his smile returns, cruel and mocking. “Or don’t,” he says, standing and turning away. “But don’t think I’ll be so generous again.”

———

The air in your prison grows colder with each passing day. The concrete floor seems to suck the warmth from your body, leaving you shivering in the thin, threadbare clothing he’s allotted you. Blankets are a luxury, one he dangles before you like bait on a hook. Hygiene products—soap, a toothbrush, even clean water—are rationed out like rare treasures, rewards for obedience that always seem just out of reach.

He watches you from the shadows, a silent predator waiting for the moment your spirit cracks. The sound of his voice is worse than the silence. It’s a scalpel, peeling away layers of your resistance with surgical precision.

“You look uncomfortable,” he remarks one day, his voice lilting with mock concern. He steps into the dim light, his figure framed by the cold, sterile glow. “How long has it been since you last had a proper shower? Days? Weeks?” He smiles, the expression brittle and sharp. “I could help with that, you know. All you have to do is ask.”

You say nothing, your eyes fixed on the floor, but he sees the flicker of humiliation in your expression, and it feeds him.

“No?” He tilts his head, feigning curiosity. “Still so proud, even now. Admirable, really. But pride won’t keep you warm. Or clean. Or alive.”

────────────

When the door finally hisses open, the sound sharp and invasive, you don’t lift your head. But you feel his presence immediately, a dark, oppressive weight that fills the room. His footsteps are soft but deliberate, each one echoing like the tolling of a bell. And then he speaks, his voice low and smooth, a dark current beneath deceptively calm waters.

“You’re looking pale again,” he remarks, his tone laced with mockery that twists your stomach. You don’t answer, keeping your eyes fixed on the floor, but he doesn’t need your response to continue. He never does. “Have you been refusing to eat? Or is it the water? You’ve always been so ungrateful, haven’t you?”

A shadow falls over you as he comes closer, and the sharp scent of ozone and something faintly chemical hits your nostrils. You flinch when his hand, cold and unyielding, grips your chin, forcing your face upward. His violet eyes gleam with a sick kind of amusement as he tilts his head, studying you like a specimen under glass.

“Thirsty?” he asks softly, almost gently, though there’s no mistaking the sadistic edge beneath his words. He reaches into the folds of his dark, flowing attire and retrieves a small, glass vial. It gleams in the dim light, the liquid inside as clear as crystal but no less threatening for its purity. “I brought you something special today.”

He crouches before you, setting the vial down on the floor with a deliberate clink. Then, with an almost theatrical flourish, he places a tall glass beside it, already half-filled with water. “Drink,” he says, his voice a command wrapped in velvet. “Go on. You must be parched.”

You hesitate, your body trembling as you glance at the glass. It feels like a trap—no, you know it’s a trap—but your throat burns with the dry, relentless ache of dehydration. It’s been days since he last offered you anything, the air in the room deliberately kept too dry, leeching the moisture from your body like some cruel experiment.

When you don’t move, his smirk widens, and he leans in, close enough that you can feel the chill of his breath against your skin. “Do you think I’d poison you?” he whispers, his tone almost tender, though the words slice into you like broken glass. “That I’d let you go so easily? Oh, no, little doll. If I wanted to destroy you, I’d make it far slower. Far more… personal.”

The implication chills you to your core, but the thirst gnaws at you with an intensity that borders on madness. You reach for the glass, your fingers trembling so violently you nearly knock it over. He watches with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving your face as you lift it to your lips.

The water is cold, colder than it has any right to be, and it slides down your throat like liquid ice. But then, the taste hits—metallic, sharp, and tinged with something acrid that makes your stomach churn. You gag, dropping the glass with a shattering crash, but it’s too late. The liquid burns as it courses through you, a searing pain that spreads from your throat to your chest, your stomach, your limbs.

He doesn’t flinch at the sound of the breaking glass. If anything, his expression grows darker, more triumphant, as he leans back on his heels, folding his arms across his chest. “How does it feel?” he asks, his tone almost conversational, as though he’s asking about the weather. “The sensation of your body rejecting what it so desperately craves? Fascinating, isn’t it?”

Your vision blurs with tears as you clutch your stomach, the pain radiating outward in waves. You want to scream, to beg, to curse him, but your voice catches in your throat, choked off by the bile rising within you. He watches it all with the calm detachment of a scientist observing a particularly interesting reaction, his head tilted slightly, his lips curved in a faint smile.

“Ah, but don’t worry,” he says after a moment, his voice softening in a way that’s even more sinister. “It won’t kill you. I wouldn’t waste such a useful tool on something as permanent as death.” He reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch cold and clinical despite the faux tenderness in his movements. “No, little doll, this is simply a reminder. A lesson.”

He leans in closer, so close you can feel the oppressive weight of his presence pressing down on you. “You don’t survive without me. Do you understand that now? Every breath you take, every drop of water you drink, every bite of food that passes your lips—it all comes from me. And it can all be taken away just as easily.”

The pain begins to subside, leaving you weak, trembling, and utterly broken. He stands, brushing off his knees as though he’s finished with some menial task. “Rest, if you can,” he says, his voice light and mocking once more as he turns toward the door. “You’ll need your strength for the next lesson.”

The door closes behind him with a resounding clang, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence of the room. Alone with the lingering burn in your throat, the taste of poison on your tongue, and the sick, suffocating knowledge that he’s right.

You don’t survive without him.

────────────

The silence he left behind had weight—a crushing, suffocating thing that pressed against your chest until your breaths came in shallow, wheezing gasps. Days stretched into nights, and nights into something darker still, where time seemed to lose its grip and your mind unraveled thread by fragile thread.

But then came the voice.

At first, it was a whisper—a delicate breeze brushing against the edges of your consciousness. Soft, insidious, and almost gentle.

“Did you miss me, little doll?”

Your heart stopped, then hammered violently against your ribs. You spun toward the sound, eyes darting across the empty room. Shadows stretched unnaturally, pooling in corners like ink spilled across parchment.

There was no one there.

But the voice persisted, lilting and melodic, curling around your thoughts like smoke. “Poor thing,” it cooed. “You look so lost. So lonely. Didn’t I promise I’d always come back for you?”

“No,” you rasped, clutching your head, fingers digging into your scalp as though you could claw him out of your mind. “You’re not here. You’re not real.”

The laughter that followed was low, rich, and agonizingly familiar. It reverberated through the empty space, vibrating against your skull like a tuning fork.

“Not real?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery. “Oh, my little doll, you wound me. But perhaps I’ve been too kind. Let me remind you.”

The world around you shifted—imperceptibly at first, like the faint sensation of vertigo. Then it hit. The walls groaned and shuddered, the fluorescent light overhead flickering wildly. The air grew heavy, thick with the metallic tang of blood. You stumbled, your knees buckling as the ground seemed to ripple beneath your feet.

When the flickering stopped, he was there. Or was he?

His face hovered just out of reach, a phantom etched in shadow and smoke, his violet eyes glinting like shards of broken glass. He was leaning in, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath unnaturally cold.

“Tell me, doll,” he murmured, his voice velvet and venom, “do you still think I’m not real?”

You screamed, a raw, guttural sound that tore through the silence. You clawed at the walls, at your face, your nails scraping skin as you tried to banish him from your senses. But the voice only grew louder, more insistent, wrapping itself around you like a shroud.

When he finally stepped into the light, the sight of him sent your stomach plummeting. His coat trailed behind him like the wings of some unholy predator, his silhouette framed in a distorted, sickly glow. He tilted his head, a parody of curiosity, and smiled.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, gesturing to the marks on the walls, the bloodied crescents under your nails. “What is it you’re trying to escape from, hmm?”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, your chest heaving. “You weren’t here,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I heard you, but you weren’t here. You were—”

“Everywhere,” he finished for you, his smile widening. “And nowhere. Isn’t it delightful? How fragile your mind has become?”

He took a step closer, his boots clicking against the floor in a deliberate, measured rhythm. Each sound drove a spike of dread deeper into your chest.

“But don’t worry,” he continued, his tone softening into something almost tender. “I’m here now. Let’s forget all about those nasty little thoughts, shall we?”

His hand reached out, brushing a blood-matted strand of hair from your face. The gesture was achingly gentle, a cruel mimicry of affection. His touch left a burning, icy trail against your skin.

“You look so distressed,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Have you been imagining things again? Seeing shadows where there are none? Hearing whispers in the dark?”

You wanted to scream, to lash out, but your body betrayed you, rooted in place as his fingers ghosted over your cheek.

“No need to answer,” he said with a sigh, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “Your silence speaks volumes.”

And then the illusion shattered.

His hand wasn’t on your face—it was inside your skull. You felt the sharp, electric jolt of something foreign scraping against your brain, an icy tendril of invasive thought slithering into the deepest recesses of your mind. Memories warped and twisted under his touch, familiar faces dissolving into grotesque, melting horrors.

“You see,” he whispered, his voice echoing within you now, “there’s no escape from me. Not in the silence, not in the noise. I’m in every breath you take, every blink, every beat of that fragile little heart.”

You sobbed, the sound choking in your throat as the room dissolved into a kaleidoscope of distorted images. Blood seeped from the walls, viscous and dark, pooling at your feet. You felt it creeping up your legs, cold and sentient, wrapping around you like chains.

And still, he smiled.

“Did you miss me?” he asked again, his voice slicing through the chaos. This time, there was no room for denial. He leaned in close, his breath brushing against your lips as he whispered, “I missed you, little doll. And I’ll never leave you again.”

────────────

The tray lands on the table with a resounding clang, a sound that reverberates through the suffocating silence of the room. The metallic echo seems to burrow into your skull, as if the very air conspires to mock your helplessness. He stands above you, a silhouette of unyielding authority, arms crossed and eyes gleaming with sadistic amusement.

"You should be grateful," he murmurs, his voice smooth and calculated, like a scalpel slicing through flesh. The faint trace of a smirk curls his lips, his tone dripping with condescension. "I went to such great lengths to prepare this. Just for you."

Your gaze falls to the tray, and the bile rises instantly in your throat. The abomination before you masquerades as food, a grotesque parody of sustenance that seems alive in the most horrifying ways. The slabs of meat glisten unnaturally, their surfaces marred by oozing black lesions that seep a thick, tar-like substance. A faint stench rises from them, sharp and putrid, a rancid blend of decay and chemicals.

Nestled beside the meat is a mound of gray paste, its texture like wet cement, flecked with jagged shards of something white—bone? Teeth? You can’t tell, and you don’t want to. The greens are no better: wilted, slimy, and crawling with tiny, wriggling creatures. The bugs move lazily, their segmented bodies glistening under the harsh fluorescent light, their sluggish movements taunting your growing horror.

“You’re staring,” he says, his tone lilting, almost playful. He leans in closer, his sharp features framed by the dim, artificial glow. "What’s the matter? Not to your liking? It’s safe, you know. Perfectly edible. Nutrient-dense, even."

You swallow hard, your stomach twisting itself into knots. Every fiber of your being screams at you to run, to scream, to do something, but you can’t. His presence roots you to the chair, your limbs heavy with the weight of his control.

“Don’t think I’ll let you starve, little doll.” His voice drops, the endearment laced with venom. He picks up the fork, prodding at the meat. The action elicits a sickening squelch as the black liquid pools beneath it, the viscous substance clinging to the metal tines like molasses. “Go on,” he urges, his tone soft but edged with malice. “Eat.”

Your shaking hands reach for the fork, but your grip falters. The metal feels impossibly cold, a physical manifestation of your dread. You stab at the meat, and its rubbery texture fights back, resisting your every attempt to cut it. When you finally manage to tear off a piece, the smell intensifies, a cloying wave of rot and iron that makes your vision blur with nausea.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. He steps closer, his shadow swallowing you whole. “You will eat every bite. I won’t tolerate waste.”

Your lips part reluctantly, and the moment the meat touches your tongue, the taste assaults you. It’s rancid, the flavor an overwhelming mix of decay and metallic bitterness. You gag instinctively, your body convulsing as you try to spit it out, but he’s faster. His hand clamps over your mouth, his grip iron-tight.

"Swallow," he hisses, his breath cold against your ear. The word is sharp, absolute. Tears stream down your face as you force the foul lump down, your throat convulsing violently around it. The moment it settles in your stomach, a heavy, alien weight, he releases you with a cruel smile.

“Good,” he purrs, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “But we’re not done yet.”

He picks up the gray paste next, scooping a heaping forkful. The gritty, slimy mass clings to the metal like glue, its acrid stench burning your nostrils. Without warning, he presses it against your lips, smearing the substance across your skin when you try to turn away.

“Open,” he commands, his tone brooking no argument. His other hand grips your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and he shoves the paste inside. It coats your tongue, the texture gritty and uneven, punctuated by the horrifying crunch of the shards within. You don’t want to think about what they might be. You retch, but his unyielding gaze pins you in place.

“Chew,” he orders, his voice devoid of patience now. When you hesitate, his grip on your jaw tightens, the pain sharp and immediate. “Chew.”

You obey, the shards cutting into your gums as the paste coats your mouth in an unholy mix of textures and tastes. When you finally swallow, it feels like swallowing broken glass, the jagged edges scraping their way down.

“Such a good little doll,” he croons mockingly, his fingers stroking your cheek in a grotesque parody of affection. His eyes glint with dark satisfaction as he gestures to the greens. “Finish it.”

The slimy leaves glisten under the light, their surfaces writhing with life. The tiny creatures embedded within them squirm and twitch, their segmented bodies pulsing faintly. He picks up a forkful and holds it before you, the bugs wriggling and falling off the edges, their tiny legs scrambling for purchase.

“No,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and trembling. It’s the first word you’ve dared to speak, but it’s a mistake.

His expression hardens instantly, his smile vanishing. He grips your hair, yanking your head back with brutal force, and presses the fork against your lips. “You don’t get to say no,” he snarls. “You will eat. Every. Last. Bite.”

The greens and their crawling passengers are shoved into your mouth, the slime coating your tongue and the bugs wriggling against your teeth. You chew reluctantly, each bite filling you with a fresh wave of nausea as the creatures burst, their insides bitter and sickly. Some continue to move, their twitching bodies sliding down your throat even as you swallow.

By the time the tray is empty, you’re shaking violently, tears streaming down your face as your stomach churns with the unholy concoction. He watches with satisfaction, his smirk returning as he steps back.

“Well done,” he says, his tone almost congratulatory. He sets the tray aside and crouches before you, his fingers brushing against your tear-streaked cheek. “See? You can do as you’re told.”

You stare at him, hollow and broken, the taste of his twisted meal lingering on your tongue. When he finally leaves, the door slamming shut behind him, the oppressive silence returns, and you crumble, your body wracked with dry sobs.

The food sits heavy in your stomach, a grotesque reminder of your helplessness. You know he’ll return tomorrow with something worse. He always does.

────────────

The sterile air of the room feels heavier today, pressing against your chest like invisible hands. You can’t shake the unease, the gnawing sensation that something is wrong, even more so than usual. It’s in the silence that stretches just a beat too long, in the flicker of the overhead light that seems timed to your uneven breaths.

Then, the door opens, and he steps inside with the quiet elegance of someone who knows he doesn’t need to announce his presence. Scaramouche. His name alone sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

He looks the same as always—poised, meticulous, as if every strand of hair and every fold of his outfit had been arranged with precision. But today, there’s something different in his eyes, something colder, more calculating.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says, his tone almost conversational, as if you’re old friends catching up. His lips curl into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

You don’t answer. You’ve learned by now that anything you say can and will be twisted, reshaped into a weapon aimed at you.

He sighs, a sound filled with exaggerated disappointment, and steps closer. The room feels smaller with each measured step he takes, until he’s standing just a breath away, towering over you like a shadow.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins, tilting his head slightly, the motion almost childlike but laced with menace. “You haven’t been entirely honest with me, have you?”

Your heart stutters. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” he snaps, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “I saw the way you looked at me yesterday. The resentment, the defiance. After everything I’ve done for you.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did,” he interrupts, his voice softer now but no less dangerous. “And it hurt me. It hurt us.”

His words sink into your chest like daggers, each one meticulously placed to draw the maximum amount of guilt and confusion. You know he’s lying—there was no resentment, no defiance—but the certainty in his voice, the way he says it as though it’s an undeniable truth, makes you doubt yourself.

“Do you know how hard I work to keep you safe?” he continues, crouching down so his face is level with yours. “Do you have any idea what I’ve sacrificed for you? And this is how you repay me? With distrust? With hatred?”

“I don’t hate you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t you?” His smile widens, cruel and mocking. “Then why do you keep trying to hurt me? Why do you keep betraying me?”

Your mind races, desperately trying to piece together what he’s accusing you of, but there’s nothing to grasp onto, no crime to confess.

“I didn’t do anything,” you say, your voice trembling.

His eyes darken, and he leans in closer, so close you can feel the chill radiating off him. “No?” he whispers, his tone dripping with venom. “Then why do I feel like you’re lying?”

────────────

The first time you see him again, it’s through a haze of adrenaline and fear, your limbs trembling as you push yourself upright. The sound of boots pounding on the concrete echoes like gunshots in the cavernous space. Everything smells like oil and blood and something metallic you can’t quite place.

He bursts through the shattered doorway, his dark silhouette haloed by the dying embers of light spilling from the outside. His eyes, sharp as a blade’s edge, scan the room until they lock onto you, crumpled in the corner, battered and bleeding.

“I told you not to wander off,” he says, his tone more exasperated than angry. But there’s something underneath it—an undercurrent of urgency, of barely contained panic.

Before you can respond, he’s kneeling in front of you, his gloved hands moving with precision as he checks for injuries. His touch is cold, clinical, but his gaze burns with something raw and unspoken.

“You could’ve died,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Do you have any idea what they would’ve done to you if I hadn’t gotten here in time?”

The words hit you like a blow. You remember the men who dragged you here, their faces masked but their intentions clear. You remember their laughter, the way they circled you like predators, and the sickening certainty that no one was coming to save you.

And yet, here he is.

“Why…?” Your voice cracks, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “How did you find me?”

He pauses, his hands stilling as he meets your gaze. “Because I always find you,” he says simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Because you’re mine to protect. No one else cares enough to keep you safe, to pull you back from the brink every time you stumble into danger.”

You should feel grateful—relieved, even—but his words don’t sit right. They coil around your mind like a serpent, squeezing tighter with each repetition.

———

Days later, after he’s taken you back to the sterile confinement of your “safe place,” the cracks in the story begin to show.

You wake up screaming, your dreams plagued by shadowy figures and muffled threats. The first thing you see is him, sitting in the corner of the room, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

“Still having nightmares?” he asks, his tone calm but laced with faint condescension.

You nod, your throat too dry to speak.

He stands, walking over to you with measured steps. “I warned you,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “The world out there is cruel, unrelenting. They don’t care about you like I do. That’s why you need to stay here, where I can protect you.”

“But—” you start, the words dying in your throat as his gaze sharpens.

“But nothing,” he snaps, though his voice never rises. “Do you remember what happened? What they said they’d do to you? Or are you already twisting it in your head to make me the villain again?”

You flinch, the accusation stinging even though you know it isn’t fair. “I didn’t say that,” you whisper.

He leans closer, his presence suffocating. “But you thought it,” he murmurs. “Don’t lie to me. I can see it all over your face.”

The conversation leaves you shaken, his words gnawing at the edges of your mind. Had you misunderstood him? Was he right?

———

The next day, you notice something strange. The small, cracked mirror on the wall—the one you’ve stared into countless times, trying to find traces of the person you used to be—looks different. The crack is gone, the glass pristine, almost too pristine.

You press your fingers against it, your reflection wavering slightly. “Was this always here?” you mutter to yourself.

“It was,” his voice answers from behind you, making you jump.

You turn to find him leaning casually against the doorway, his arms crossed and an infuriating smirk on his face. “Are you doubting your memory now?”

“I…” You hesitate, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to think clearly.

“Maybe it’s the stress,” he continues, pushing off the wall and walking toward you. “Trauma does funny things to the mind. Makes you see things that aren’t there, remember things that didn’t happen.”

He stops just inches away, his hand brushing against your cheek in a gesture that feels both comforting and imprisoning. “But don’t worry,” he says softly. “That’s why I’m here—to keep you grounded, to make sure you don’t lose yourself completely.”

———

Over time, the little inconsistencies pile up: a drawer that seems to shift its contents overnight, a diary you swore you wrote in that now sits blank, the faint smell of antiseptic that lingers on your skin despite not remembering any wounds.

“You’re imagining things,” he says whenever you bring it up. “Do you want me to get the doctor again? You remember what he said last time—about your delusions?”

The mention of the doctor shuts you down. You remember the cold metal of the examination table, the too-bright lights, the clinical detachment in the doctor’s voice as he listed off your supposed symptoms.

“You’re not well,” he had said, his tone devoid of compassion. “But with time, and the right care, you can recover.”

And who had been there to hold your hand through it all? Who had whispered reassurances in your ear, promising that he’d never let anyone hurt you?

Him.

Always him.

———

One day, he takes you outside—or what he claims is outside. The sky is gray, the air heavy with the acrid smell of smoke. There’s no one around, just endless stretches of concrete and metal, like the remnants of a city that never finished being built.

“This is what’s left,” he says, gesturing to the desolation around you. “You wanted freedom? Here it is. Go ahead. See how far you get.”

You take a hesitant step forward, then another, the silence pressing in on you like a physical weight. But the farther you walk, the more it feels wrong. The same twisted tree looms in the distance no matter which direction you turn.

“It’s a loop,” you whisper, realization dawning like a shard of glass slicing through your thoughts.

He steps up behind you, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s safety,” he corrects. “And the sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”

You sink to your knees, the weight of his words crushing you.

Because deep down, you know he’s right. There’s no way out.

────────────

The “gifts” arrive in silence, placed delicately where you can’t ignore them. They are always wrong in ways that make your stomach churn—a photograph from a vacation you can almost remember, the faces distorted into grotesque smears as if melted under the heat of his touch. A trinket you once cherished, now fractured or tarnished beyond recognition, its edges sharp enough to cut. A letter written in your own handwriting, the words rearranged into senseless patterns, like a code you’re too far gone to crack.

You don’t want to touch them, but you do, every time. They feel like a thread tying you to the world you left behind, even as the thread frays in your trembling hands.

Today, it’s a letter. A crumpled piece of paper, brittle and yellowed at the edges, that wasn’t there when you closed your eyes to the oppressive dimness hours—or was it days?—ago. The words shift as you read, the ink bleeding into itself until sentences collapse into meaningless blotches.

“It’s all gone, you know,” his voice cuts through the silence, a dagger laced with mockery.

You whip around, the paper crinkling in your grip as you face him. He’s standing in the doorway—or at least, where a doorway would be if this room obeyed the laws of reason. His silhouette is backlit by a faint, sterile glow that gives him an otherworldly edge, making him seem more phantom than man.

His smirk widens as he steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, his boots echoing against the cold floor. “Everything you had. Everyone you loved.” He pauses, tilting his head as if savoring your reaction. “I made sure of it.”

His words pierce through you, sharp and unrelenting, a scalpel carving away at your hope. Your hands shake, the letter slipping from your grasp and fluttering to the ground.

“I don’t believe you,” you manage to whisper, though your voice wavers under the weight of his presence.

“Oh?” His tone drips with amusement as he crouches before you, his violet eyes glinting with something dark and twisted. He picks up the letter, smoothing it out with a precision that feels mocking, before holding it out to you again. “Then tell me—what does it say?”

You stare at the paper, the lines of ink writhing like living things under his gaze. The harder you look, the more the words evade you, slipping through the cracks of your comprehension like grains of sand.

“Nothing?” he presses, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “How tragic. And here I thought this might bring you comfort.”

He straightens, looming over you as his smirk softens into something almost tender—almost. “But you don’t need those relics, do you? Memories are just burdens, after all. And I…” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a touch so light it feels like a mockery of affection. “…am here to unburden you.”

You recoil, pressing yourself against the wall, but there’s nowhere to go. His hand lingers in the air for a moment before he withdraws it, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

“You have me now,” he says, his voice calm, measured, but with an undercurrent of something that makes your skin crawl. “And isn’t that enough?”

———

You don’t answer. The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating, until he chuckles—a low, mirthless sound that vibrates through the room.

“No?” He turns his back to you, pacing with the languid grace of someone who knows they’ve already won. “Ungrateful to the end, I see. Typical.”

He stops near the far wall, his hand trailing across its surface as if feeling for a seam. The room responds to him, a soft click reverberating through the air as a hidden compartment slides open. From within, he pulls another “gift”—a locket this time, small and tarnished, the metal warped as though crushed under immense pressure.

He holds it up, letting it dangle from his fingers as he turns back to you. “Do you recognize this?”

Your heart clenches at the sight of it, the faint glint of its once-polished surface sparking a memory so vivid it feels like a slap. You don’t answer, but he sees the recognition in your eyes, and his smile sharpens into something predatory.

“You kept this with you always, didn’t you?” he muses, his voice soft, almost reverent. “So sentimental. So human.”

He steps closer, dangling the locket just out of reach. “And yet, it couldn’t save you, could it?” His smile falters for a split second, a flicker of something bitter crossing his features before his mask of cold amusement snaps back into place.

He drops the locket at your feet, the sound of metal striking the floor echoing in the silence. “Take it,” he commands, his voice suddenly hard, sharp enough to cut.

You hesitate, your hands trembling as you reach for it. The moment your fingers close around the cold, misshapen metal, his boot comes down next to your hand, so close you can feel the air shift.

“But remember,” he says, his voice low and venomous, “everything you touch, everything you remember—it’s mine now. Just like you.”

His words sink into your mind like hooks, tearing at your resolve as he turns and disappears into the void he came from, leaving you alone with the locket and the crushing weight of his truth.

———

You want to say no. You want to scream it, to hurl the word at him with every ounce of strength you have left. But the word sticks in your throat, a jagged shard of glass you can’t swallow or spit out.

He doesn’t wait for your answer. He doesn’t need to. The smirk that plays at the corners of his lips tells you he already knows.

“You’ll see,” he murmurs, his tone almost reverent now, as though speaking of a truth so profound it defies comprehension. “In time, you’ll come to understand. I’m all you have. All you’ll ever need.”

He steps back, his boots clicking against the floor in a rhythm that echoes like a heartbeat—your heartbeat, weak and faltering.

“Do try to appreciate my generosity,” he says over his shoulder as he moves toward the shadows. “These little gifts of mine… they’re not just for you, you know. They’re for me, too. A reminder of how far you’ve come.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with the letter, the photograph, the watch. Alone with the fragmented remains of a life you can no longer remember.

The lights flicker again, plunging the room into darkness.

His voice lingers, though, soft and venomous, a ghost that refuses to leave.

“Gratitude, little fool. That’s all I ask.”

────────────

The room you’ve been confined to has changed again. Not in any tangible way—no new walls, no new objects—but in the oppressive way it seems to warp around you, making even its empty expanse feel too small. It’s as though the walls breathe, inhaling your will and exhaling despair. The only constant is him. Scaramouche, who looms like a god in a world of his own creation.

He stands before you now, framed by the stark artificial light, his expression unreadable. Every movement, every glance he spares is a study in calculated perfection, as though he’s rehearsed this scene in his mind countless times before bringing it to life.

“You’ve made progress,” he begins, his tone soft, almost kind. “I can see it in the way you’ve stopped resisting.” He kneels to your level, his hands clasped neatly on his bent knee. “But we still have work to do.”

You flinch as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your wrist. His touch is light, fleeting, yet it feels like chains being wrapped around your bones.

“Tell me,” he says, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more poisonous. “What’s your name?”

You hesitate, your lips parting but refusing to form the words. The question isn’t innocent; you know that by now. It’s a trap.

Scaramouche’s smile deepens, and it’s the kind of smile that makes your stomach churn. “I see,” he murmurs, withdrawing his hand. “You’re still clinging to it. That identity. That name. That life.” His gaze sharpens, cutting through you like glass. “How selfish.”

“I’m not selfish,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling.

“Aren’t you?” he counters, rising to his feet. He begins to pace, his hands clasped behind his back, his every step deliberate and echoing in the oppressive silence. “You insist on holding onto a version of yourself that no longer exists. Do you know how exhausting that is for me? Watching you struggle, knowing you’ll never succeed?”

His words are a scalpel, precise and cutting. “Let me simplify things for you,” he continues, his tone lightening as though he’s offering a gift. “You don’t need a name. Names are for people who belong to the world, and you…” He pauses, turning to face you fully, his violet eyes glowing with an unearthly intensity. “You belong to me.”

The words hang heavy in the air, suffocating you in their finality. He kneels again, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “Say it,” he commands, his voice velvet and steel. “Say you’re mine.”

You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “I—I’m not—”

His grip tightens, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you of his power. “Say it,” he repeats, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

When you don’t respond, he sighs, releasing you and rising once more. “You still don’t understand,” he says, his voice tinged with disappointment. “But that’s alright. I’ll help you. I always help you, don’t I?”

———

The next morning, you wake to find everything in the room gone—your blanket, the single chair you’d been allowed to sit on, even the thin mattress you’d been sleeping on. The floor beneath you is cold, unyielding, and utterly barren.

When Scaramouche arrives, his expression is one of practiced pity. He crouches down, inspecting you like a scientist observing a fragile experiment. “It’s painful, isn’t it?” he says softly. “To have everything stripped away. But it’s necessary. You have to learn that those things were only weighing you down.”

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, your voice breaking.

“Because I care,” he replies without hesitation. “Because I want you to be free.” He tilts his head, his gaze softening in a way that feels like mockery. “Don’t you see? I’m saving you from the prison of your own mind. The sooner you let go of who you were, the sooner you’ll find peace.”

You don’t respond, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He rises to his full height, towering over you like a judge delivering a sentence. “I’ll leave you to think,” he says, his tone light but his words laced with menace. “But remember: the only way out of this is through me.”

———

Days pass—or maybe weeks; it’s impossible to tell. The walls seem to close in more each day, their featureless expanse a blank canvas for the chaos in your mind. You begin to question everything: your memories, your sense of self, even your sanity.

One day, Scaramouche returns with a new “gift.” It’s a mirror, small and oval, its edges gilded in a way that feels almost mocking. He sets it before you with a flourish, his smile unreadable.

“Look,” he says simply.

You hesitate, your hands trembling as you reach for the mirror. When you finally raise it to your face, you barely recognize the person staring back. Your skin is pale, your eyes hollow, your hair disheveled. You look…empty.

“Do you see now?” he murmurs, crouching beside you. “This is who you are. Who you’ve always been. The world out there didn’t care about you. It chewed you up and spat you out. But I…” He pauses, his gaze locking onto yours in the reflection. “I’m the one who picked up the pieces. I’m the one who’s here for you.”

Tears stream down your face, and you don’t even know why. His words are poison, but they seep into the cracks of your mind, filling the void with something dark and insidious.

“You’ll thank me someday,” he says, his voice soft and almost tender. “When you finally see the truth. When you finally understand that I’m your savior.”

He takes the mirror from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that feels both possessive and gentle. “But until then,” he says, rising to his feet, “you’ll stay here, where you belong. With me.”

────────────

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General TAG LIST of “World Ablaze”: @berry-berry-beam

[morose-melodies]

unavoidable fate | yandere! pre fatui! kabukimono/scaramouche x reader

summary: who is this strange man who roams around your village? and why is he so attached to you?

content warning: separation anxiety.

this is from scaramouche's story, "tiny doll." - he had done such things with great patiences in times past, after all, leaning things such as holding cutlery, wearing clothes, combing his hair... yes, he had learned to be a "human" from the little things up. 👍👍

"kabukimono,"

that was his name. the name of the man who appeared in your village a week ago. he roamed around and occasionally disappeared just to appear again later that day.

he seemed dejected. his eyes were always so distant, so sad. so one day, you stopped him and gave him a warm drink and a blanket, telling him to go home and be safe.

but he had no home. you tried to understand what he meant... "you have no home? then where did you come from?" your confusion was apparent as he took a small, hesitant sip from the cup you gave him.

"I don't know. I don't know anything," he replied before parting ways with you for the night. after that night, he seemed to hang around your house, like a stray cat that continued to come back to the person that helped it.

"don't look at me like that, it's weird," you look at kabukimono as he stood at the doorway ... he was watching you again.

one day, after your first interaction with kabukimono, he appeared at your front door one night, "please allow me to stay with you."

it was dark in your home. all the lights were out, you had blindly navigated through the house to get to the front door upon hearing your doorknob jiggle so late at night.

it was so late and you were so tired. you nodded, stepping aside to allow him in. kabukimono stepped in and stood there as you closed and locked your door.

you led him a few steps forward and guided him to sit on the couch. he was pliant, moving where you wanted him to and doing as you pleased. "'kay, sit there. I'll get you a blanket," you assured him before leaving him alone.

you reached out and grabbed his hand, ready to guide him to the couch where he would sleep for the night. the puppet flinched, his fingers tensing as if he were ready to pull away from you but didn't. "come on," you said, your voice hushed, and kabukimono wondered why you were talking so quietly.

alone in the dark, kabukimono sat there quietly, his hands on his lap. he liked you, or, at least felt an odd sense of loyalty to you. you helped him, so, of course, when he was cold and needed somewhere to go this night, he thought of you.

when you came back, you laid him down and put a blanket on top of him, tucking him in, and said, "come to me if you need something, okay?" and he went to sleep and so did you.

so, that next morning, before the sun had even fully came up, kabukimono was in your bedroom, standing at the doorway, watching you.

"uhm... good morning?" you sat up and looked at him, to which he replied, "... good morning."

that morning, as you bathed, did your hair, and got dressed, he was near, following after you and watching you.

it wasn't that you didn't mind him watching you but he just seemed so harmless -- the way he watched you was sort of curious.

"put this coat on, we'll go out to get some water," you offered, holding out one of your old coats to him and he took it from you.

as you put your coat on, you noticed that he hadn't put his own coat on but instead seemed confused, holding the coat. "uh, here," you took the coat from him and slid it onto him, "there. now, c'mon."

and together, the two of you went out to the well near the middle of the village and got two buckets of fresh water. hoping to make some use out of him, you gave him one of the buckets to carry and he did.

afterwards, the two of you went back to your house. settling down, you made him breakfast to keep him occupied while you went out to gather supplies and materials that you needed.

... but.

he was confused when you set a pair of chopsticks onto his plate, "I'm not... understanding," he confessed.

"um, it's a chopstick, y'know?" you moved to stand behind him, taking the chopsticks and sat it in his hand, helping him hold it properly.

instead of going out for supplies, you stood behind him, helping him get accustomed to the use of chopsticks. instead of a nice ten minutes breakfast, you spent thirty minutes teaching kabukimono how to hold and eat with chopsticks.

you didn't have any problems with kabukimono.

he was quiet and complaint, he hadn't given you any grief, well, not until you tried to leave for the day...

"where are you going?" he perked up almost immediately at the sight of you approaching the front door, "are you leaving? why? uh, where are you going?" standing from where he sat, he approached you, standing at your side.

he looked prepared to plead, to cling onto you and beg you to stay with him.

"I need supply, y'know... stuff to make food with," you explained to him but kabukimono seemed to worry more.

he didn't want you to leave. what if you didn't come back? he should go with you, shouldn't he? "can I come? please let me come with you, I can be helpful," he offered, standing so close to you that his arm was pressed against yours.

"no, no. you can stay, it's fine. I'll be back in an hour, you don't need to worry so much," you tried to ease his worries, patting his shoulder before turning to open the front door.

but all kabukimono heard was an hour. you'd be gone for an hour?? that was far too long! "wait, wait! I can help you, let me- please let me go with you!" He pleaded, running out the front door, after you, clinging to your arm.

"go back in! you're not wearing your coat, go. you'll get sick," you tried to shake him off but upon realizing that he wasn't going to let go, upon realizing that he was in a genuine state of panic over this, you stepped back into your house.

"calm down... look, i... I um, I won't go. I'll stay," you promised him, sitting him onto the couch before sitting beside him, "I won't go, I promise."

he had been breathing so fast, so hard. he'd never felt that way before, he'd never felt so terrified of losing something before.

that was sorta when it clicked for him that he didn't want to lose you and couldn't stand to be away from you.

[yukkisagi]

"i could treat her way better than you!"

in which some boy tries to confess to you, his girlfriend ft. alhaitham & wanderer (there's clear favoritism here) -fluff, not proofread

ALHAITHAM

no matter how many books this man has opened, he himself has always been a closed one. he never lets anyone know his true feelings or thoughts, so much so that people wonder if he even has them. he's cold, unsympathetic, withdrawn, any red flag adjective that is in the dictionary.

so how on earth is someone romantically linked to the acting grand sage? because of this, there are many onlookers who always want some sort of exclusive sneak peek into you guy's relationship.

some believe you've blackmailed him, others think alhaitham is conducting a psychological study on romance, you personally believe it's because no one else would be able to withstand his snarky remarks and he's aware of it.

these hypotheses are what leads you here, standing in front of one of your random classmates as he tries his best to hide his embarrassment behind his brazen grin.

"i would treat you right," he proudly announces, a crowd slowly starting to gather.

you can hear whispers surrounding you people are starting to stare down at the both of you from the upstairs railing.

"wow the acting grand sage isn't paying enough attention to her."

"he probably would be way more loving"

"honestly, would alhaitham even care?"

that last one couldn't possibly be the farthest from the truth.

alhaitham, even if he never admitted it, was stuck to you like those annoying tiny stickers that are just randomly on fruit. you just find him on you without even realizing it.

"let me take you on one date! that's it! and then you can decide if you want me or him!" the boy take your silence as invitation to continue his case. "i promise you'll have a fun time."

and before you can even answer him, kaveh and alhaitham finally enter the court, their bodies just barely peeking between the gaps of the crowd.

"heh, alhaitham, your girl is getting confessed to!" kaveh giggles while nudging the latter. "are you just gonna let him have her?"

suddenly the group opens space for the two of them, giving alhaitham more time to investigate his surroundings. his eyes meet yours first, the usual bore and tiredness greeting you. the whispers are now hushed as everyone anticipates his response, but he says absolutely nothing.

"look acting grand sage," the boy starts again, and you find it hard to not roll your eyes. "sure, you're great at your scribing and grand sage-ing, but a girlfriend isn't a job, its a duty that i definitely could fulfill better than you."

kaveh is now roaring with laughter, a stark contrast from alhaitham's unchanging face. you're now anticipating his response now, wondering if he would finally publicly claim you as his and only his or if he would just not entertain the conversation and leave you to deal with it, like always.

"look, just do whatever you want. i'd prefer to not waste my time and energy entertaining whatever this is." exactly what you anticipated, you can't help but smirk at your perfect prediction.

the silence was loud, almost overbearing as you watch some drop their jaws at his audacity. it even takes the boy aback, shocked that he would so easily give you away.

"alhaitham!" kaveh starts scolding, "what is wrong with you? are you crazy? do you eve-"

"i meant," alhaitham interrupts after clearing his throat. you can see the annoyance start settling in and patience running thin. "you can try, but i can easily conclude that your efforts will remain fruitless."

"excuse me?" the boy scoffs, a weak attempt at hiding his embarrassment.

"she would never fall for someone as inadequate and desperate as you."

after one more quick glance, flashing you just a glint of his mischievousness, he's off. cape and hair all dramatically swishing to follow his swift footsteps. your feet move before you can even think, instantly trying to catch up to his long strides as everyone watches your lovestruck eyes only follow him.

as everyone, including kaveh, watches you two disappear around the corner in shock, alhaitham can't help but roll his eyes as he feels you linking his arms with his. he knows damn well he would never let you leave and let someone else see that stupid little grin on your face.

he's arrogant, maybe a little more possessive then he let's on and extremely rude, but was he ever wrong?

WANDERER

scaramouche always loves a good a tussle, even if it was against your wishes. you've seen him physically fight off people twice his size, spit his venomous insults to anyone who would even try to whisper within his hemisphere, but never in your life did you think you would have to watch him bicker with a six year old and specifically, about you.

"y/n is princess and you're garbage!" the short boy exclaims as aggressively as his young voice could allow. "i'm making her my girlfriend!

"oh could you now?" your boyfriend scoffs back. "i'd like to see you try."

"watch me!" he scowls and scurries up to you. he pulls out flowers from behind his back and hands them to you as he announces, "i picked these for you because they are pretty just like you!"

"aw thank you!" you graciously accept the flowers, slightly smirking over at the older boy. "you know, scara has never picked me flowers before."

"ha!" the kid laughs at him, sticking his tongue out. "see? y/n is going to fall in love with me."

scaramouche is visibly upset now, watching you entertain the boy and poke his small unnecessarily adorable button nose. he knows your teasing him and it angers him more.

"well i'll have you know!" scaramouche crosses his arm across his chest, puffing in pride with his chin up refusing to look at the two of you. "y/n likes men who are taller then her."

"just wait for me y/n! i'm already half his height and im still growing, unlike that old man!"

"old? i'm not old! you're the one who's too young for her to begin with!" he looks down at the boy with a menacing glare.

"i'll be the same age as her soon!" the boy stands his ground, the boyish confidence radiating from him

"you don't even know her!" how could you possibly be in love with her!?"

"i do know her! she's a princess!"

you can tell your hot headed boyfriend was starting to run out of comebacks. it's hard to fight a kid's reason and logic and scara was already lacking in patience as is. as much as you love seeing the ever so cold and rude scaramouche all worked up and jealous, you kneel down to the younger one, finally ceasing all agruements.

"i'm sorry kid, i really appreciate the flowers, but you're going to be waiting eons for me." you pat his head, offering a gentle a smile. "don't worry, as long as you give them your hand picked flowers, i promise any girl will fall for you."

"and if you fall girls that don't already have a boyfriend," scara annoyingly butts in.

once the boy leaves, not before exchanging tongue spits at scaremouche one more time, you feel two arms wrap around your waist from behind.

"do you actually like handpicked flowers?" he mumbles into your shoulder, his warm ears just barely brushing against your neck

"yea" you hummed, picking at the sweet petals as you try to suppress your giggles for his sake. "only if they're from this slightly taller, much more angry dude who wears a hat twice his size."

[wanderingconstellations]

kunikuzushi finds out what sex is and gets addicted to it 🫣

Kuni being an asshole. Kuni being the definition of a loser. Face sitting. Pussy eating. Pussy drunk Kuni. Oral (Receiving & Giving). Afab Reader. Creampie n' shit. Lmk if I missed anything.

Kuni who finds out about what sex is, and is completely and utterly addicted to how your walls suck and tug him in. The sensation, the way you moan and whimper at how his length hits at all the right spots. He loves it.

"Kuni.. I'm making breakfast, you can't just have me for breakfast."

Kuni didn't give two shits if you weren't food, your pussy was too good to give up! He can't help it really. He's already shoving his face in between your legs and pulling your panties down, immediately licking and sucking your pussy like he hasn't even eaten in years.

Of course, you ended up succumbing to his ministrations and end up bucking your cunt into his mouth, gladly letting him ravish it as much as he wants.

For lunch.. he already has you sitting on his face, riding your high on his tongue, smearing sticky cum all over his mouth and nose. He can happily die down here, your pussy is so good, it's literally dripping down his chin at this point.

Dinner? Oh no, you don't need to make dinner for him or yourself, he'll just make you suck on his dick and later making you ride it once you're done. Honestly, it's tiring, feeding this horny man with your cum everytime. Truly unbelievable.

[kyuuppi]

Genshin men Instagram HCs

Ft. Xiao; Scaramouche; Zhongli; Childe; Alhaitham; Kaveh; Tighnari

(gender neutral reader but wears a dress in Scara & Zhongli's parts)

Xiao // @ a1atus

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Very rarely posts

Never pictures of himself, you’ll only see his face in tagged photos

If he does post, it’s probably a new album cover of a band he likes, a particularly good plate of almond tofu from his favorite café, or—if he’s in a particularly good mood—a cute stray cat that befriended him on the street

Never edits anything but still takes pretty decent photos because he understands basic composition rules

Never tags anything but will sometimes write simple captions like “new guitar”

His pfp has not changed since he made his account and its literally just the blandest selfie you’ve ever seen—but he’s effortlessly photogenic so even when he’s just staring at the camera with a blank expression he looks hot

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

Xiao will unintentionally do his loyal boyfriend duties and like all of your posts but he never actually leaves a comment unless you specifically ask him to but you have to tell him what to say or else you’ll just get something like “your hair is nice” LOL

Maybe makes one post related to you but it doesn’t have your face—just picture of your hands holding each other or a photo he secretly took of you from behind as you admire some paintings from when he took you on an art gallery date

Still doesn’t write much in captions but if the post includes you, he always adds a little black heart emoji 🖤

Scaramouche // @ balladeer

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Vehemently claims he’s not chronically online but he definitely is

Def has a dark / emo aesthetic profile and puts more effort into it than he’d ever admit

Uses stories pretty frequently

Usually to show off his game stats and victories or to vent about some annoying inconvenience that's just happened to him 

balladeer Jfc the train is late again I may as well just walk home everyday ffs

All his late night gaming photos are so highly saturated in his pitch black bedroom, the only source of light being his screen on max brightness and his violet RGB keyboard. If you raise the screen brightness on your phone you might be able to make out some empty Monster cans and ramen cups on his desk—he absolutely gives Discord / Reddit mod vibes 🤢

Definitely has a story archive just for Valorant 🤮

I wanna fuck him so bad it makes me look stupid—

Posts a few selfies to show a new piercing or the very rare occasion where he’s feeling really confident in his looks

unintentionally thirst traps the emo boy lovers; yes, I am talking about you and I—

Lightly edits photos or uses filters to make them look good but nothing extreme or super aesthetic, mostly just for decent contrast

Usually the first one to see any of his friends posts but never ‘likes’ them

Will leave snarky or sarcastic comments when the mood strikes tho

His pfp is a candid picture someone else took that he thinks he looks decent in—sticking his tongue out and giving double middle fingers to the camera

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

Makes a post or story for every date you guys have, even if it’s just a vague picture of your shoes together

He likes to show off that he has such an attractive s/o but also lowkey just wants to have a memory to look back on for the nights he feels lonely

Doesn’t post just you though, he’s always in frame holding you or touching you in some way—he feels the need to put some sort of claim cause he thinks people are gonna shoot their shot with you—he’s kinda paranoid and insecure, pls have patience w him

Likes and comments on all of your posts. Sometimes it's a snarky quip like if you post about you and your friends doing something funny he might comment “lmao ur so dumb” but if its a selfie or something you’re proud of, he leaves a little compliment and heart emoji.

YN0103 [bedroom mirror selfie of you shyly posing in a dress]

YN0103  Bought a new dress today…it’s not my usual style but I rlly like it 🥺

balladeer cute 💜

If anyone ever confronts him in person about his nice comments on your posts tho he’ll get flustered and claim his account was temporarily hacked LOL

His heart def flutters when you post a picture of him on your own account

He kinda can’t believe you’re proud enough of him to publicly post about him

Changes his pfp to the two of you together and, if you zoom in and squint, you can tell he’s kind of smiling <3

Zhongli // @ rex_lapis

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

I’m sorry but I have to do it…

He has Facebook grandpa vibes

Like he has no idea how to use half of the features; stories are an absolute mystery to him. What is a reel?

But he tries to be supportive of his friends and will leave way-too eloquent comments with a Wikipedia levels of supplemental information

a1atus [ photo of a shiny Fender acoustic guitar laying on what seems to be a bed]

a1atus new guitar

rex_lapis Lovely new instrument, Xiao. You seem to have quite good tastes – that particular model is popular among many professional musicians. It is well renowned for its clear sound and beautiful mahogany exterior. If you wouldn’t mind, I would love to hear you play it someday over tea.

a1atus @ rex_lapis thanks

the way I cackled writing that exchange ygweyufgwyu Xiaos just like ‘thanks for commenting dad’

His pfp is not him—it’s probably a famous painting he likes or a beautiful white flower from a garden he visited

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

If you want him to improve his Insta game, you’re going to have to teach him, I’m sorry

On the up side, Zhongli is a great student and is eager to learn anything you teach him

Will try to post pretty regularly; usually somewhat mediocre photos of beautiful scenery like sunsets and flowers

Like Scaramouche, he enjoys the idea of documentary your time together so he posts something at the end of each of your dates

Your heart lowkey melts when Zhongli, very earnestly, asks after dinner if you’ll allow him to take a selfie with you to post on his Instagram

Regularly asks for feedback on his posts to ensure he’s properly taking your advice and improving :,)

He even starts organizing and naming story archives on his profile—simple titles like “tea,” “nature,” “friends,” and “my dearest”

Likes and comments on every single one of your posts and replies to all of your stories, even if he was there with you

Usually just lathers you in compliments on your beauty or tastes but they’re so thoughtfully written that it’s obvious he’s not “just saying it” and genuinely believes all the kind things about you he writes

YN1231 [photo of you twirling in a summer dress amidst a colorful of bed of flowers in a botanical garden, take by your friend]

YN1231 It’s finally starting to feel like spring! 🌸🌼🌺

rex_lapis While the camelias are lovely, they pale in comparison to your radiance. Your yellow sundress is also quite lovely and compliments your complexion in the morning sunlight. Truly a divine sight. 

balladeer @ YN1231 @ rex_lapis ugh can you guys keep it in the DMs

- Changes his pfp to a selfie of himself smiling after you told him he should. The angle is a little odd but he’s so naturally attractive that he still manages to look good. 

Ajax // @ tartaglia_on_top 

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Doesn’t post too often but when he does, it kinda gives stereotypical frat boy

Like, lots of parties and shirtless beach photos with his friends

The surprise is the occasional posts of his little siblings and kids he volunteers with in between

He sometimes posts championship and practice photos from his martial arts competitions with captions thanking his team and mentors

Is pretty popular—has a few thousand followers, many are people he met just once or twice at parties or genuine friends and classmates, but the vast majority are online fans who just follow cause he’s hot LOL

Is the type of person you followed once after meeting a long time ago and never talk to again but you can’t bring yourself to unfollow cause he’s nice and his updates are kinda interesting and he’s hot

Isn’t online that much so he doesn’t like/comment on his friends’ every post but usually tries to leave congratulatory messages when someone accomplishes something or graduates

His pfp is a closeup of himself with a boyish grin he cropped from a group photo

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

It is super obvious when you guys start dating cause almost every post from that point is about you in some way LOL

tartaglia_on_top [photo of Ajax, sweaty and exhausted but clearly excited as he holds a trophy in one hand with the other wrapped around your waist while he presses a kiss to your cheek]

tartaglia_on_top Officially a 3 year championship winner! Thanks to my biggest supporter @ YN0720 😘

He’s not even consciously trying to post you all the time, it just happens because you are either always together or any memorable moment he thinks are worth an Insta post involve you in some way

You’re the only person, aside from his family - that he actually likes/comments on all posts for

Is the type of boyfriend to leave those super dramatic, embarrassing comments on your selfies like “DAAAMN BABE 🥵 finna make me act UP” and, in one particularly shameless case, “god youre so hot pls step on me queen 😍” 

Please block him

He shamelessly liked all your past posts from before you too met as well—you were kinda mortified to wake up one morning to a notification that just said “what a lil cutie ❤️” on a post of yourself from seventh grade. 

Changes his pfp to a couple selfie he took of the two of you kissing on a winter vacation in the mountains

Kaveh // @ kaveh.designs

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Obsessed with having an aesthetic profile

Like, the color palette of the background and clothing in his pfp selfie are carefully matched with the cover of each of his story archives, down to the hex code

He carefully edits every post and uses filters to make them all fit with his theme no matter how inaccurate to real life they may become

“Huh…I thought your bedroom wall was a bit more orange than this…” 

“Oh, that’s cause I use 30% Juno in all my bedroom photos for a warmer finish.”

“???”

Despite his aesthetic profile, he doesn’t come off as particularly vain or narcissistic—only posts selfies when he’s has a particularly good hair day or changed his accessories

Most of his posts are of places he travels to (museums and big cities with interesting architecture) or his own sketches and rendered design projects

Online pretty frequently, always checks insta when he wakes up, before bed, and during lunch breaks

His stories are often project updates, interesting things he encounters throughout the day, or food photos

Only likes posts he actually likes and sometimes comments with photography critiques

tighnar1 [photo of a cluster of three bright blue mushrooms clustered against vibrant green grass and patches of dark, wet soil]

tighnar1 Proof the forest is an amazing place: found this beautiful little cluster of juvenile Rakkhashava mushrooms on my hike today. Great spotting by @ colleeei. Check my story for some cool mushroom facts. 🍄

kaveh.designs great photo composition, Tigh, perfect golden ratio on the caps.

tighnar1 @ kaveh.designs Thanks I guess…

Has a decent number of followers, many of whom are also artists familiar with Kaveh’s reputation from the Kshahrewar. Others just like his OOTD stories and charming smile

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

Kaveh revamps his entire profile once you two become official

His pfp becomes a candid taken by a stranger of the two of you together at an aquarium, holding hands as you point something out to him through the glass

It was taken by a photographer working at the aquarium as part of a promotion—the photographer showed you two the photo and asked for permission to post it on their official website and Kaveh was absolutely obsessed with the photo—it’s still one of his favorite and it doesn’t even show your faces

He still matches his archived story covers to his new pfp but his actual feed had become a lot more relaxed and natural now

He still slightly edits photos so they look as good as possible, but he doesn’t like using filters on photos of you or the two of you together because he thinks it would be a disservice to your natural beauty

Like Ajax, his posts and stories naturally become mostly about you whether scenes from your dates—candid photos he takes of you where he insists you look like art even though you’re just in pajamas with an unmade face—or even photos of things he sees throughout the day that remind him of you

Sometimes he posts stories of funny reels or art pieces he knows you’d like and tags you in them with messages like “@YN0709 omg remember when we were talking abt this?” and “me & @ YN0709💕”

Similar to Childe, leaves the most downbad, dramatic comments on your posts

YN0709 [swimsuit selfie]

YN0709 happy summer! ☀️🌊

kaveh.designs Oh my god my heart– 💘 I cannot believe I get to come home to this every night 👅💦

YN0709 @ kaveh.designs omg kaveh pls 💀

al_haitham @ kaveh.designs Every time I see one of your comments I regret ever learning how to read.

Alhaitham // @ al_haitham  

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Only made an account so his friends would stop bothering him about not keeping up with things tbh

Checks his feed a few times a day but skips through stories if they’re too long/too many

Absolutely hates concert stories the most cause they’d loud, long, and filled with off-key drunken singing

Never likes or comments on anything unless it’s really interesting to him

Occasionally shares reels in his story that are like interesting history facts or official Akademiya announcements

Has a few posts (and only cause Kaveh would not shut up about it) but they’re mostly just pictures of book covers he’d just finished reading with a detailed review or literary analysis as the caption—but he’s mindful of avoiding spoilers for those who haven’t read it

However, he does have one post that stands out quite a bit

He posted an unintentional gym third trap because he just happened to be working out, as is routine, and thought it might be nice to share some tips on proper rope pushdown form 

If you’re not a gym babe and don’t know what this is, I beg of you, please look up a gif or video and imagine Alhaitham doing this, shirtless. You’re welcome.

It has become his most popular post by far

His pfp is probably taken straight from his faculty ID card: plain background, bright lighting, neutral facial expression

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

After you two have become official and are pretty comfortably established in your relationship, he’ll post a photo of the two of you—probably one you took - with a simple caption like “Late night at Puspa Café with my favorite person 💚”

Everyone who knows him freaks out in the comments with variations of “omg hathie got an s/o???” and “wow he finally posted a normal pic of himself, y/n is a good influence” but he doesn’t reply to any of them lmao

If you use Instagram a lot, he’ll naturally become more active too because he enjoys learning more about what you like through your posts and stories

He likes all of your posts but never comments—if one of your posts interests him, he’d prefer to wait until he sees you later to ask you about it in person 

He just wants an excuse to talk to you more

As he becomes more active, little bits and pieces of your relationship naturally infiltrate his feed

His latest book review post has your favorite mug in the background because the two of you had breakfast together

His informational story post of an antique Sumerian emerald he found at a street vendor is being modeled by your pretty hands because you were with him when he saw it and later given to you after the vendor insisted on Alhaitham gifting it to his “beautiful spouse”

He changes his profile picture to the two of you from one of your many reading dates, comfortably lounging on a loveseat in a quiet corner of the library—and this time, he’s softly smiling

Tighnari // @ t1ghnar1

Surprisingly active on social media

He thinks social media is a great way to share information about the importance of forest conservation and get people to appreciate the beauty of Avidya forest

Makes one post almost every day and multiple stories

Needless to say, 90% of his posts are of plants or small animals he finds on his hikes or while working

His most popular posts are those of cute squirrels and birds that are being nursed back to health after being found wounded—animals just seem to naturally love him so the pictures are usually taken by his coworkers because his arms are full with cuddly animals that refuse to move

The other 10% of his posts are from the occasional hang outs with friends or coworkers after work—snaps of iced fruit teas from Puspa café or colorful clay plates overflowing with Collei’s homemade pita pockets. 

He makes sure to reply to or at least like every comment, particularly those from people asking questions about the plants he posts or how to become a forest ranger. Even simple “wow that's so cool” comments often get at least a “thanks, glad you liked it” from Tighnari

He tends to use some cute forest or food emoji when they fit with his posts. For example, 🍄,🥙,🦊,🐦, etc.

Also tends to use “:)” when replying to his followers because he knows it can be difficult to read tone in text-based communications

Tigh is basically a social media manager at this point oops

Because he is online so much, he naturally keeps up with almost everything his friends post and will like or comment on things he finds interesting

His pfp is a selfie of himself with a small yellow bird perched on his shoulder from one of his patrols

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

All Tighnaris written by me WILL follow the “fennec foxes mate for life” trope regardless of AU, it is an indisputable law of the universe

If you’re in a relationship with Tighnari, you should be prepared for stability and commitment in general

While he doesn’t go out of his way to make an official announcement post or anything like that, you become a regular feature on his page

Will tag you in anything you’re related to, unless you specifically ask him not to

t1ghnar1 [photo of a small, cream-colored fox brushing itself against Tighnari’s leg and looking up at the camera with large eyes]

t1ghnar1 On a walk with @ YN1229 this morning we spotted this cute little kit without her mom. 🦊 While adorable, foxes - even kits - are wild animals and should never be approached unless by professionals. We have informed the local animal control where she will be taken care of until we can locate her family. Photo by @ YN1229

He never outright announces you as his lover but he seems to spend so much time with you and refer to you so casually that his followers who don’t know him just assume you’re his spouse LOL

He doesn’t bother to correct them either :,)

bennie_boy Wow, that mountain is so high up - wasn’t ur spouse scared to go up there?

t1ghnar1 @ bennie_boy Y/n has been on so many trips like this with me that they’re pretty used to it. :)

Likes your posts as he see them on his feed and occasionally leaves a short comment like, “beautiful <3”

[kokomyass]

Genshin Headcannons ☆ Traveller finding out that you are in a relationship with genshin characters pt.2

Genshin x Fem!Reader

Genre: ☁️

Trigger warnings ⚠️: none!!

featuring: Scaramouche, Kazuha, Cyno

synopsis: in which, traveller and paimon find out you are an ✨️ITEM✨️!!!

Notes: for my man's scara, we are gonna refer to him as Kuni(kuzushi) or Wanderer, for my man's kazuha you are beidou's younger sister and the traveller and paimon know you, and in cyno's part, you are collei's main supervisor.

a/n: my lovlies I am here to deliver!! After an ACTUAL narrow win, the scara, kazu and cyno trio won our hearts! 💕

now that doesn't mean I won't do the others....but let's see.....anyways enjoy!! 💜💜

pt.1 is here!!!

Scaramouche

"The Wanderer....coming to Paimon and Traveller for help....this sure is a rare occurrence, Paimon must say!"

Paimon and The Traveller were sat opposite to The Wanderer who was looking down with a faint dust of pink on his cheeks.

He was in need of advice on what to get his girlfriend for their anniversary, and in desperation and no one else to ask, he found himself asking the Traveller and Paimon for advice.

"Shut it. I need some advice and then I am off. That's it." The Wanderer kept his head lowered as The Traveller smirked at his attempt to be tough but still seemingly desperate.

"Well, what do you need help with, Wanderer?" Paimon made sure to emphasis the word help failing to hide her cheeky smirk.

The Wanderer glared daggers at her before speaking.

"You are going to help me find a present." he wasn't really giving them a choice.

"A present?! For who?? Paimon knows you have no friends!" Paimon shouted with no filter for the whole world to hear before the Traveller covered her mouth.

"Shut up and bite your tongue, Paimon!!" The Traveller whispered in Paimon's ears ignoring her muffled shouts, "Yes we will help!" The Traveller said to The Wanderer as he let out a grunt of satisfaction.

They went to many different stalls making very, VERY, V E R Y small talk, as most of time The Wanderer would see a stall and would pick up an item, show it to the Traveller and Paimon and put it down.

"We've been walking for ages!!! Who is this even for?" Paimon moaned even though she could float.

"None of your business." the Wanderer spat as he picked up his pace making Paimon roll her eyes.

"Why is he being so secretive, is it for his girlfriend or something?" Paimon said joking like in the Traveller's ear as they giggled behind him finding the concept of him having a partner so unrealistic.

After a while, The Wanderer picked a few things that he liked and put them in a basket. He said farewell to The Traveller and Paimon before going to find the person the present was for.

"Paimon thinks....we should follow him to find who he is giving presents to!" Of course the Traveller didn't object.

So that is how they found themselves stalking the poor Wanderer. They followed him until he reached a girl on a bench reading book.

She looked up, saw him and a warm smile graced her face as the Wanderer smiled back patting her head.

He handed the girl something before she opened it and looked happier than she had just seemed as she jumped in his arms hugging him, as The Wanderer chuckled, hugging her back.

"I love you, Kuni!!"

"I love you too, idiot..."

Your voices could be heard by the Traveller pretty clearly, but not by Paimon

"Ugh Paimon can't hear....OH MY GOODNESS...DON'T TELL ME THEY ARE DATING!! MOVE, TRAVELLER I CAN'T HEAR ENOUGH!" Paimon pushed The Traveller's shoulder a bit too much...

Making them topple out of the comfy bush they were hiding in, interrupting the intimate moment.

The Wanderer was silently fuming as you jumped behind him confused as to who the random two figures were until you notice it was the infamous Traveller and her floating pet.

Just as the Wanderer was about to go insane you held his hand.

"It's okay Kuni," you smile warmly making his temper disappear slowly, "Hello! You must be The Traveller and Paimon! Nice to meet you!....although may I ask why you followed my boyfriend here?"

Even though it was too late, the Wanderer covered your mouth, holding you body against his.

"Y/N....shhhh!" his face was bright red as he looked down.

And of course Paimon had to say something...

"WHAT!!!??? THERE'S NO WAY YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND IT JUST ISN'T LIKE YOU!!"

You laughed as you pulled The Wanderer's hand away from your mouth holding it.

"Haha, well miracles happen I suppose....but you haven't told me how you know him and why you are here..."

Paimon gives a long run down of everything leaving a warm smile on your face.

"You asked for help just for me Kuni? You truly are a softie..." you give him a small peck on the cheek making his ears turn bright red.

"Well, you mean a lot to me idiot...." The Wanderer mumbled.

"Paimon still can't believe your getting some action...."

"SHUT IT PAIMON!!"

☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•

Kazuha Kaedehara

It was your sister Beidou's birthday and you invited the Traveller and Paimon for a suprise party on the Crux.

"I'm so glad you could make it! I cannot wait to throw this party for her she's gonna love it!" you exclaimed walking through the streets of Liyue.

"Paimon is so glad she gets to come and celebrate!! And eat lots too..." The Traveller rolled her eyes at Paimon being food obsessed.

"I need to find Kazuha...he promised he would make it." no one knew about your relationship with Kazuha, not even your sister. Which is why you intended to tell her tonight at the party.

Kazuha had gone to Inazuma for 2 days and was meant to come back at Liyue Harbor by now.

"Don't be worried Y/N, Kazuha wouldn't break a promise! Paimon knows that much!" you smile warmly with love thinking out about true that was, hoping Paimon and the Traveller don't notice.

"Hello everyone." Kazuha's soft spoken voice could be heard as you ran up to him and wrapped your arms around him tightly as he hugged you back.

"I missed you Kazu..." you whispered in his ear so that Paimon and The Traveller wouldn't hear.

"I missed you more Y/N"

"Um they look quite in love don't they Traveller~" Paimon wiggled her eyebrows as the Traveller laughed slightly. Unbeknownst to both you and Kazuha.

Time Skip!!

It is the night of the party and all presents have been given and everyone is drinking to their hearts content.

"Kazu, make sure you stay sober so we can tell Beidou our big secret. I know you can't handle alcohol well babe...." you whispered to Kazuha as the festivities began.

Little did you know, Beidou thought it would be funny to switch the grape juice he was drinking to wine.

"Thank you for coming again. Are you enjoying yourselves?" you sat by the Traveller and Paimon who were only one seat away from Kazuha.

"We sure are! The food is amazing~ won't you eat and drink?" Paimon asked as you seemed fully sober and they hadn't seen you get anything to munch on.

"Well I just want to make sure everything is okay before I eat and-" Before you could finish your sentence someone's arms slithered around your waist from behind, you turn back to see Kazuha with flushed face and eyes lidded.

"Kazu, are you drunk? And as much as I wanna cuddle, everyone is gonna see-" you whispered to him, trying to softly pull his arms away.

"HEY! KAZUHA AND Y/N!! WHY ARE YOU BOTH SO CLOSE?!" you hear Beidou's drunk voice as everyone went silent and stared at you with a drunk Kazhua wrapped around you.

"We have been together for 2 years though...." you slapped your hand over Kazuha's mouth, after he just spilled your secret, smiling nervously as everyone started mumbling.

"Paimon shipped you guys and all...but TWO YEARS?!!!" Paimon shouted.

"Beidou you see the thing is-" you sheepishly tried to explain before Beidou hushed you.

"I'm joking around....I knew you guys were together it's pretty obvious. You should let that boy live a little though...luckily, I gave him some wine to really enjoy the party" you stared in shock as Kazuha had now fallen asleep on your lap and Beidou laughed loudly as everyone began chattering.

"Traveller, Paimon....do you agree?"

"Yes you guys act like newlyweds...but we are so happy for you!!"

☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•

Cyno

The Traveller and Paimon happened to be in Sumeru and they met up with Cyno just to see how he was doing.

"How's it going, Cyno? Anything new?" Paimon asked gleefully.

Cyno ate his food silently before replying.

"I want you to meet someone." he began eating again not expanding further making the Traveller and Paimon a bit perplexed.

"Um...do you wanna expand on that, orrrr...?" Cyno didn't say anything, all he did was stand up and start walking off assuming they would follow.

"Hey, hold up!!" Paimon and the Traveller chased after him walking his pace one they caught up with him.

They walked a long way to Gandharva Ville only to see Tighnari.

"UGHH CYNO WE ALREADY KNOW TIGHNARI!!" Paimon shouted in frustration from walking for such a long time as the Traveller shut her up.

"Tighnari, where is Y/N?" Cyno asked ignoring Paimon.

"Ummm I think she went to the Desert with Collei? Why?" Tighnari asked confused as to why Cyno was asking where his own wife was.

"Many thanks." Cyno walked off without answering Tighnari's question as Paimon and The Traveller followed.

They has arrived in the desert and 2 figures could be seen digging up in the sand.

"Paimon has had enough floating for one day, Paimon refuses to go anywhere!!" Paimon folded her arms standing her ground(or air??) before seeing Cyno and The Traveller walking off towards the people infront of them.

"Wait for Paimon!!!"

"Y/N, Collei." Cyno spoke out causing you to turn your head and smile warmly, waving. You stood up from your crouched position.

"Mr Cyno! And The Traveller and Paimon!!" Collei shot up as you told her to calm down so she didn't hurt herself.

"Hi Cyno, what brings you here? Or are you here for a usual stroll? And who are these individuals?" You walk up and give him a tight hug that he reciprocates.

"This is The Traveller and Paimon. This is Y/N guys." Cyno effortlessly introduced you.

"Why, I have heard loads about you from everyone! My dear Collei was just talking about you!!" you smile warmly whilst patting Collei's head.

"It's nice to meet you Y/N!! And nice to see you Collei!! Cyno why did you want to introduce us?" Paimon asked trying to sound polite.

You laughed as you answered the question for him, "You see, I am Cyno's wife."

"WHAT!!!??? CYNO WHY DIDNT YOU SAY IN THE WAY HERE? PAIMON WOULDN'T COMPLAIN AS MUCH!!" Paimon shouted a bit too loud and Cyno just shrugged.

"Didn't cross my mind." all you could do was laugh at Cyno's usual antics.

"This is shocking...but at least Paimon doesn't have to be a victim to your horrible jokes..."

☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•

a/n: GUYS THANK YOU FOR BEING GREAT SUPPORTERS AND I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING THIS!! DONT FORGET THAT YOU CAN REQUEST ANYTHING YOU WOULD LIKE! LOVE YOUUUUU!!! 💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮

[kalliyen]

Streamer Luck 🍀

Pairing: Wanderer x GN!Reader

Featuring: Wanderer (Genshin Impact)

Genre: Fluff, Modern AU

Summary: Streamer Wander drabbles lmao enjoy <33

Reader’s Pronouns: They/Them

Warning: wanderer (just brace yourself) bro is actually astronomically down bad, sorry id there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes i am delirious rn

Disclaimer: ⚠️ ONLY A WORK OF FICTION!

i. ‘wym you’re not single and rotting in a basement?’

Wanderer has been playing for hours on end, you could barely keep up with it.

He hasn’t come out of his room for hours and you were starting to get worried about his appetite, and his emotional well being.

Because you were such a good and doting partner, you decided to make Wanderer’s fave dish, and deliver it to his room.

Knocking on his door, he lets out a brief hum, signaling that it was good to come in. Careful not to get to close to the camera, not wanting to reveal yourself to his audience just yet.

Chat noticed the presence of another person in the room, and immediately bombarding Wanderer with questions like “who tf is that???” and “where did they spawn from???”

“Darling you’ve been streaming for 6 hours, take a break and eat first okay? Just call me when you need anything else.” You state, trying to resist giving him a peck on the lips.

Your boyfriend pauses his game, looks at you, then chat, and decides to pull your waist to his level to give you not one peck, but multiple.

Taken aback but not at all surprised from your boyfriend’s sudden show of affection, you lean into the kiss, missing the feel of his lips on yours.

Chat absolutely EXPLODES when they saw that, but Wanderer did not give two shits, and decided to kiss your hand, while deeply looking into your eyes

“Thanks Honey, I’ll take a break and eat this, thank you so much for looking out for me :)”

“No problem darl, just come out when I call you for dinner okay?” “Yes honey” And with that you leave the room, leaving Wanderer with him and his chat

He scans the messages, multiple times he sees “SO DOWN BAD LMAOO” and “did u kidnap them or something to take are of you”

A little irked at chat, he angrily replies “No I am NOT down bad (he is) and NO I did not kidnap them. They’re my partner. Why is that so hard to believe?”

ii. honey face reveal when?

Ever since you’ve made your existence known to Wanderer’s fan base they’ve been calling you Honey, mostly mocking him about the nickname he has for you. (they do find it cute tho fr)

They tell him to bring you into the stream more, saying that they missed your voice and your sweet personality, honestly they don’t give a fuck about him no more they just wanna see you

Wanderer gets annoyed (again, this man is always mad at his chat somehow), and says that he can’t force you to show yourself to them, which his chat respects.

“Also their sweetness and cuteness is for me only, not my fault that you guys are lonely and don’t have a partner. Imagine that, what a massive L” he says to his chat, and they start arguing with him again. (someone save his fan base)

iii. HONEY REVEALLL !!!!!

Seeing that your boyfriend’s fans really liked you, you decided to tell Wanderer that you’re finally comfortable with sharing your face to the internet, which he was really happy with. Because god he really wanted to show of the love of his life to the world, and smash it in their faces that only he could have you.

You suggest to him that you do a cute little baking stream together as your face reveal, and he couldn’t deny the adorable smile on your face while suggesting it to him, so of course he obliged.

While he was setting up the cameras and you were setting up the ingredients you felt really nervous, thoughts of ‘what if they don’t like me?’ plagued your mind, and Wanderer sensed your uneasy demeanor. He came up to you and gave you a kiss that meant ‘don’t be nervous honey, i’ll always be here for you.’

He turns the stream on and immediately people start to come in, surprised at the change of scenery.

‘Wanderer doesn’t live in his basement confirmed?!?!’ a TTS message read, and he gave the camera a glare

Chat immediately noticed you and started chanting “HONEY!” “OH MY GOD ITS HONEY FINALLY”

You gave a meek wave to the camera, still a bit nervous, but with Wanderer’s hand on your waist you knew you had nothing to worry about.

“Hello everyone,,,,I’m y/n, you probably know me as ‘honey’ and i’m…..wanderer’s partner” you say with small smile on your face, eyes turning into small slits

In conclusion, the stream was a success and chat was absolutely smitten with you.

bonus: iv. Honey takes over the channel 😱

Now that you’ve gotten more comfortable showing yourself on stream, you sometimes played games with Wanderer too, like co-op in this game called Genshin or other games that allowed two person players.

Sometimes, you even started streams yourself whenever you wanted to share something to his audience, or get advice from them when you start a new game.

Wanderer of course sees these streams and he just has the lovey dovey-est smile in the world, you swear you saw his eyes turn into hearts.

Damn, his streamer luck is insane.

[childesblanket]

A pearl

a scaramouche x reader fic

When you decide to take a film class for fun as a nursing student without knowing if you have any friends in there, you meet a boy names 'scaramouche' who at first seems to hate your guts, but a partner project and a couple of awkward moments later, you grow to have feelings for him. Only thing is? you are fresh out of a relationship and deem yourself completely unready for another right now.

taglist open!! ask me:3

a/n; Hiii guysyssys!! this might be half smau half fic idk but ily guys sm!! Im so excited for this but jsyk i AM a really slow updater, and unfortunately i get unmotivated quick! (better in light mode)

hamsters :: gerbils

lookbook

act 1; the art of peer pressure

let them eat cake, fuck him, they not like us, dorms and laughs, digits, spitshake, production, fatass, riches and hennessy, party in the u.s.a, churros, baddies, hot to go, peggy schuyler, chlorine mouth, alright

act 2; - There will be tears

[tarlas]

✵ Going out in public ✵

Characters : Tartaglia , Neuvillette , Kaeya , Venti , Wanderer

Wanderer would try to convince you to not leave, but end up going with you.

He would keep his hand rested on the small of your back, making sure others didn’t try to get you.

You were his after all.

After a while, you would take Wanderer’s hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. He would blush, using his free hand to pull his hat in front of his face.

You two would wander through the city, a small smile on your face.

You succeeded in making your black cat of a boyfriend go out with you.

“Darling.. can we go home now?”

Venti would be the one to drag you out, grinning all the while.

You two would go through the city, hand in hand as he giggled at you.

Venti would drag you out of the city soon after, taking you to the Windrise tree.

Sitting up in the tree, Venti would gently hold your hands and leave a small kiss on your cheek, smiling softly.

As you smile as him, a flash of sadness would go across his face as he suddenly wrapped you in a hug.

“..I love you. Please never leave me.”

Kaeya would be constantly touching you.

A hand brushing your arm, Kaeya suddenly holding your hand, an arm around your waist..

He truly was a jealous man. He wanted you all to himself.

Sitting at Good Hunter, Kaeya would be next to you, just looking at your features.

He smiles, brushing your hair to the side before giving you a small, gentle kiss.

As your food came, Kaeya would just smirk at how flustered you were.

“..beautiful.”

Neuvillette usually doesn’t have a lot of time for you, so when he does, he goes all out.

First, Neuvillette would take you out to dinner, paying for everything, just watching you fondly.

Then, you two would go to the park and sit with the melusines.

He would laugh quietly at the way they jumped all over you. Once he did, they would all rush to him, including yourself.

Neuvillette and you would stay there for a while, talking and playing with the melusines.

Lastly, once night came, Neuvillette would take you to the top of the cliff, his favourite spot.

There, he would hold your hand and whisper sweet nothings.

He would hold you close to him, his eyes closed as a soft smile graced his face.

“Just as the rain belongs to the ocean, I am yours, my love.”

Tartaglia. Oh Tartaglia. How he made you feel safe.

When you go out, he’ll randomly hug you from behind, smiling as you jump.

Tartaglia would smile fondly as you giggled, holding close to him.

If anything caught your eye while you were out, it would be bought within the second.

He would glare at anyone who got too close for comfort, taking your hand, smiling once the person was gone.

How he would tell you everything he thought was amazing about you, praising you like a god.

Tartaglia, oh Tartaglia. How he loved you.

“Oh? Did that catch your interest my love?”

[ballads-for-kuni]

My Guiding Light (Pt. 2)

Masterlist || < Part 1 | Part 3 >

Kabukimono, as he used to be called, is now forgotten.

In his place is Scaramouche, the Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers.

His star is the only one to call him something different.

“Kunikuzushi,” his star whispers softly into his ear, hidden under the wide brim of his hat.

A name all his own, gifted by the one dearest to him.

“Hmm?” He hums gently in return, in contrast to his harsh glare, Fatui agents scrambling out of his way to avoid his spartan punishments.

“You must go to Tatarasuna,” his star whispers. “There is something of importance there to me, as dear as you.”

“That place? Why?” He frowns, and the Fatui move faster to clear a path for him.

“I’m afraid I’m fading.” His star whispers, pain clouding their voice for the first time in a while.

He stops abruptly, in the middle of an ice-cold hallway full of agents, just like the rest of Zapolyarny Palace.

The agents flinch. The look on his face is positively thunderous, dark clouds obscuring his usually angry expression, turning it stormy.

“What?” He hisses, barely audible to human ears.

“I’ve known for only a short while,” his star admits, “the pangs started not too long ago, about a week back.”

“I’m going. I won’t accept this. You’re not leaving me. You can’t, not now.” He swears under his breath, resolute and angered.

He resumes his little march down the hallway, even as his star glows faintly in gratitude and affection.

It makes his ichimegasa twinkle with an otherworldly glow.

The meeting was chaotic.

“Your Majesty, I insist. Of all of us here, I am the only Inazuman by birth. I know my country better than anyone else here. It would be in everyone’s best interest for me to accomplish the mission in Inazuma.”

After a full 3 hours of arguing with the other Harbingers, he was arranged to go to Inazuma.

“See?” He smiles gently, holed up in his quarters on the ship being loaded for their voyage to Inazuma. “I told you I could do it.”

“Of course,” his star glows faintly, proud and pained all at once, “my Kunikuzushi is capable.”

An unfortunate Fatui agent is chosen to deliver news to the Sixth Harbinger.

“S-sir,” the agent stands outside the door, knocking twice.

“What?” His superior’s annoyed voice floats into his ears.

“T-the ship’s f-finished loading, s-sir,” the agent stutters, “w-we’re setting sail soon.”

“Finally,” Scaramouche snaps, “get moving then, I don’t want to be there longer than necessary.”

“Y-yes, s-sir!” The agent bows to the door, then spins around as fast as he can to get away from the menacing aura around the Sixth’s quarters.

Not a moment later, the boat sets sail.

“Is this what we’re looking for?” He murmurs quietly to his darling star, standing in ankle-deep water and allowing the bioluminescence to wash over his feet.

“Yes,” his star’s voice grows louder by the hour, stronger the closer they are to home.

“Take some,” he orders his men, “and find a way to sustain them back in Snezhnaya.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“The beach’s ecosystem is important too, Kuni dearest,” his star chides him.

“And I don’t care how many samples you take, just don’t deplete the supply like a bunch of idiots!” He adds.

“Honestly, which moron doesn’t know to take a total of under 30% of the population for study?” He mutters, intentionally loud enough for the nearest few agents to hear.

The word is spread of the Harbinger’s instructions, and the Fatui begin harvesting.

It’s hilarious watching fully grown men and women, known and feared for their heinous deeds, splashing around in the shallows of Tatarasuna’s beaches trying to catch the evasive glimmers like a gaggle of children.

They get lectured.

“You’ve cut one in half. Do you want to die just like the glitter will?” “You’ve gathered more water than sparkle in that bottle, you useless twat.” “It won’t survive the transport back.” “This sample is as unimportant as you.” “Dump it out and take another.”

“Enough, Kuni,” his star whispers after a while of the agents’ toiling, “I’ll be fine with this much.”

Crates upon crates of glittering glass bottles line the beach.

“Mmm,” he hums, walking over to make a show of inspecting their spoils.

“Passable,” he sighs, “pack them up carefully. Let’s go.”

Their meeting with the famous Traveller has his star pulsing in erratic patterns, the first in a few decades.

He knows that pattern.

Disapproval.

Anger.

Disappointment.

His stomach churns at the thought of his star so upset with him, that he orders all the Fatui to pack up and load the ship in preparation to leave.

In the bustle, he murmurs a quiet “I’m sorry” to his companion, and his star chides him. Gently, like they always have.

“That wasn’t very kind, Kuni. Nor was it honourable.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I will wait for you. I cannot stay with the Gnosis; it will consume me.”

“So you’re leaving?”

“No, I will return,” his star soothes him, the balm to his sharp words. “But you will have to walk the beginning of the path you chose alone. Godhood is lonely, Kuni; outliving your people has never been the goal of any god. I will watch you. I will be there, as I always have been. Just this time, I’m not quite next to you anymore.”

“When I become a god,” their little charge vows, “I will find a way so that you can stay by me. You won’t have to avoid the gnosis anymore.”

“When that day comes,” his star promises, “I’ll find you.”

His star winks in and out of sight for a while, and then that comforting, constant silver glow is no more.

And for the first time since his birth, he is alone.

It’s a painful thought.

He steels himself and grips the gnosis tighter, stalking out of the now-abandoned factory to begin his plan.

The ship sets sail, and when it docks back in the eternal winter of Snezhnaya, The Balladeer is nowhere to be found.

The Balladeer, and one small chest of his personal belongings.

[devosin]

— THIS ISNT ABOUT HIM !!

THIS ISN'T ABOUT HIM !! — After a rough breakup with your long-term partner and highschool sweetheart Diluc, you met Kazuha, you're current boyfriend. The two of you bonded over your past relationships and chose to heal together. However, things start going array as individuals from your past, come back to meddle with your newfound peace.

tropes/tags: established relationships, gender neutral reader, multiple characters x reader, scaramouche x kazuha, angst with a happy ending, drinking/mentions of alcohol, sexual innuendos, childhood friends to lovers to exs, roommates to lovers to exs, hurt/comfort(?), strangers to lovers, trigger warnings will be marked on each chapter.

status: on-going started: july, 17, 2024

spotify playlist: kazuha edition / diluc edition / scaramouche edition / xiao edition

★. y/n's supporting cast / private — kazuha's scriptures / private ☆. scaramouche's cult / private — diluc's multi-level marketing scheme / private ★. extras . . .

PROLOGUE ☆. calling it quits ☆. are you seriously doing this over text ?! ☆. fastest way to move on

SEASON ONE : VICES ☆. moving fast, moving in

SEASON TWO : CHOKEHOLD . . .

SEASON THREE : REMEDIES . . .

taglist: @chemiru , @yuminako . @meigalaxy , @exhaustedcommunist , @moonjellyfishie , @bananasquash , @lloovvv , @potteraep ,

send an ask, or reply to this post to be added to the taglist! (tumblr doesn't allow more than 5 tags per post, so I'll be tagging you via comments)

@ devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[kuni-is-daddy]

THE ARC OF KUNIKUZUSHI

CW: THESE POST CONSIST OF NSFW

Thread of my scaramouche fics, will be continuously updated/edited whenever I post more.

Don't be shy to ask me stuff or just speak ur genshin thirst for scara, anonymously or however. I love talking to everyone :)👍 There are no request rules besides all characters requested being Over 18. Ask anything, anytime.

please don't re-translate my fics OR RE UPLOAD THEM😊👍 Art by @dlgodls0731 On Twitter

These Fics all contain spoilers for Scara's Backstory! Including (1.1 Stars event, Sumeru Chapter Spoilers, Inazuma Spoilers)

SCARA NSFW ALPHABET

WANDERER BIRTHDAY SPECIAL

BODYGUARD SERIES:

SMUT+FLUFF BOSS! SCARAMOUCHE X BODYGUARD READER

BOSS! SCARAMOUCHE X YANDERE BODYGUARD READER

MISSION: BOSS SCARAMOUCHE X F! BODYGUARD READER PART 2

A DATE!: Boss SCARA X F! bodyguard reader

His office: Boss Scara X F! Bodyguard reader

LESSOR LORD(DENDRO ARCHON) READER SERIES.

PART 1, FEAR: DOM! SHOUKI NO KAMI ARC X SUB! LESSOR LORD GN READER.

PART2, REDEMPTION: POWER SUB SHOUKI NO KAMI/WANDERER X LESSOR LORD READER. FLUFF + SMUT

PART3, PROBLEMS IN PARADISE: WANDERER X LESSOR LORD READER

PART,4 PUNISHMENT: SUB WANDERER X LESSOR LORD READER

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

<<"Your my pet." (Hybrid scara ERA!)>>

>DEMON SCARA X SUMMONER FEM READER

>VAMPIRE SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE READER

>SNAKE SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE READER

Sub! Catboy scara X Female reader!

JEALOUS! SUB catboy scara X fem reader

SUB CATBOY WANDERER X LESSOR LORD READER

><Yandere era><

YANDERE SCARA X FEM READER: 0RGASM DENIAL

Yandere SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE READER (reader has social anxiety)

Yan scara x Female reader(social anxiety) part 2

><Soft/Comfort fics><

Wanderer! comfort smut x female reader

1 Shots/Requests!

WANDERERxSCARAMOUCHExFEMALE READER

IN PUBLIC+BEFORE MEETING: KUNI X FEM READER

BEG FOR ME: SCARA X FEMALE READER

KABUKIMONO X MALE KAEDEHARA CLAN MEMBER READER

WORKING OUT: SCARA X FEMALE READER

SCARAMOUCHE X FEMALE FATUI HARBINGER READER

FLUFF + SMUT. SCARAMOUCHE X 'DADDY ISSUES' READER. PURE COMFORT

WORKING! MALE READER X SUB! WANDERER

SUB SCARAMOUCHE BRAT TAMING DUMP. MALE READER.

PRANKS?: DOM! SCARAMOUCHE X M! F! READER SEPERATE SMUT PARTS.

SUB SCARAMOUCHE X DOM! MALE NO. 1 HARBINGER READER.

ANON'S AI..: BITE-ING THIRST

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

SFW, : LOVE LIKE YOU, FLUFF + ANGST.

I hope everyone enjoys my fics and trys to take care of themselves :)) please put yourself first and love yourself. The world is crazy nowadays, much love!!

[vampirenigh]

Envy is useless

Sumarry: Someone talks bad about you in they're presence.

Characters: Tighnari, Cyno, Kaveh, Wanderer.

Warnings: Just some bad words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Masterlist

Tighnari

🍄You were with Tighnari on a patrol in the forest because he wanted your company. It was very comforting for him. Your scent calmed him when he was with his head in the clouds.

🍄But after a while the two of you started to hear two people talking and laughing after some bushes. At first Tighnari was about to tell them to go home because this isn't a place to play but stopped in his track because of two motives.

🍄First they were forest rangers that he put on a patrol not an hour ago that would've took four hours and second because they were talking about you so he stayed with you behind them to hear more.

🍄"Did you saw what Tighnari's partner did last night? She almost collected some poisonous mushrooms for a poison last night. But Collei was there to stop her because it was to dangerous." "I know. Who would've thought that Tighnari's partner would be such a bad person and try to poison somebody? "

🍄Those statements made Tighnari's blood boil. Not because you did that but because they were making conclusions on some assumptions. It was a total misunderstanding. You are a very skilled poison maker because you come from a family where to be able to make poison it was a bare minimum. You just wanted to teach some new forest rangers about the poison and how to know how fatal it is.

🍄He saw you feeling down at those words so he took action and went to the two forest rangers.

🍄"What are you doing here? Didn't I put you to a patrol? And what are you two talking about? Are you stupid?" When the forest rangers heard that voice they stood up immediately and saluted Master Tighnari. But that didn't impress him. "You think you are the most intelligent here? You even know why Y/n took those poisonous mushrooms? To teach you, you idiots. You can't even say what is good to eat and what not! Get out of my face and go do your work. I don't have all day long here."

🍄The two ran away as fast as they could and then Tighnari came back at you and resumed his patrol.

"Do not even try to apologize to me. They should be apologizing to you because they assumed something so stupid. You shouldn't feel guilty because you wanted to do a good thing. That is why I love you. You always think about others before yourself. Even if sometimes you take it too far and make me worry."

Cyno

⌛He had a rare day off and decided to spend it with you. And you decided to spend it in the forest because is very calm and comforting.

⌛Cyno didn't care to much about where he is if he can be with you all day long. He spend his day admiring you and your personality.

⌛But after some time you two hear some whispers in a distance. Because you two were curious and because they could make a crime or a plan for it you and Cyno decided to investigate.

⌛When you saw who it was you were about to reassure Cyna that it is nothing to worry about but stoped mid sentenced because your sister and her friend started talking about you and it made you froze.

⌛Cyno saw this and started being on guard. He didn't care that it was your sister or anyone else.

⌛"Can you believe that my sister got to be with the General Mahamadra? How is it possible? Just look at her! She is so ugly and so clumsy! I remember a time when she tried to cook something and almost burned the kitchen down!" "I know! To think that the General Mahamadra would step so low... Do you think that she seduced him!? " "Possibly... "

⌛After the last statement Cyno couldn't stop his anger and goes straight at them. "Hey mind telling me what were you two talking about?" The girl were surprised and sayd "N-Nothing... " "Well let me tell you two something you made two crimes right now. You started to talk being someone's back and you lied to the General Mahamadra himself!"

⌛Cyno was about to send them to the court but you stopped him and told him to stop. "Fine.. I'll let you two go just because your sister doesn't want to see you in prison. So go already! I don't have all day to spend on you two!"

⌛Whit the last statement he took your hand and took you to a nice place to see the sunset.

"I don't understand why you let your sister go with that but I'm not gonna get in your problems if you don't want me to. But for you to know you are the most beautiful person in the world and I love you a lot."

Kaveh

🎨You went to his office to spend some time with him because he said that working alone is boring. So here you are with your boyfriend watching him do another project.

🎨But he was very happy that you were here because you made the place more comfortable with your presence. But that didn't last for long. After some time you two heard a feminine voice who was talking a bit too lout for your liking and Kaveh knew who it was. His secretary. He wanted to get up and tell her to shut up but stoped in his track when he heard what she was saying.

🎨"Yes, Yes. Don't worry about it. By the end of the month I will make Kaveh mine. Yes. I know that he has a girlfriend. But did you see her? She is so ugly. How did she manage to get Kaveh? For sure she did something! Of course I'm confident about my plan. I will lead the photos first and then try to get close to him. What photos? The ones that we made whit Y/n. Tha false ones."

🎨At that Kaveh got up and went out. The girl who was talking over the phone froze and closed the call fast. "H-Hello sir... W-What are you d-doing here? " "I work here don't I? But the question is what are you doing here? You are fired. But before leaving leave here that photos and everything that you have against my Y/n!" The girl took everything out and ran away crying. Then Kaveh went back into his office and put on fire everything that discriminates you.

"Don't worry about everything Darling. I will trust no one when it comes to you. You are the only one I trust and you are the most beautiful person I laid my gaze on. Don't let people like her say thing like that to you."

Wanderer

🎐To say the least. This boy is very blunt and is very hard to get close to his heart because of his terrible past. But if you managed to get so close to him and can tolerate him best believe that he would never let someone talk to you in an ill way in front of him. And would never forgive anyone who did you wrong. So good look with him.

🎐You went with him on a walk and enjoyed the sun with your boyfriend who was admiring you the whole time you guys were out but a group of girls caught his attention and yours to by the way you froze.

🎐"Did you see the Wanderer with Y/n? Who thought that he will get with a person like her?" "Yes. Did you see the way he was looking at her? For sure she did something to him. How could a person like her get such a handsome boyfriend? " "Maybe she seduced him?" "Whit what? Did you see her body?"

🎐The last statement was his last straw. He went straight to the group of girls. "Hey! How dare you say something like this about a person like Y/n! You ugly bitches who can't even afford to get a boyfriend but talk like that behing someones back. You talk about her appearance when you can't afford to say something nice about yourself. You are so ugly that it makes me puke." He would've continued to insult them but you come to him "Kuni that is enough. You can stop now." "But-" Then he saw your eyes and took your hand and then took you away from those arrogant people.

🎐He took you to a nice place and started to hug you really close.

"I know I'm not the best at comforting someone but I know how it feels to be judged like that. I won't forgive anyone who made you suffer and I will make them suffer more! But for you to know I love you idiot. Don't make me say that again. Because I won't! Now let's continue our walk. We don't have time to think about some stupid idiots."

[genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles]

If you’re uncomfortable with this request you don’t have to do it but may you write Scaramouche x A reader who wants to disappear comfort fic or whatever you call it ?

Yes I can. My apologies for this taking a while. I hope this cheers up anyone who is going through this. I am proud of you all for fighting these type of things. I love you all. Please, be safe. I want everyone to feel safe and happy. You all deserve a place where you belong. In the end, may you find where you belong.

Trigger Warning: Themes of wanting to disappear and heavy thinking and pondering of such, please, be safe when reading this.

You were sitting in an office chair, with your desk in front of you, with paperwork. Your head was tilted all the way back, as you stared at the white ceiling. Endless endings. Endless suffocating. Endless emptiness. You were unmoving, like a living breathing corpse.

What had come of your life up until this point? Where did you go? How far have you fallen? How much have you fallen apart? Why did things come to be this way? You were staring at the ceiling with blank eyes and deep in thought. Everything you was...slow. Slow to process, but you rather no process. Slow to take in, but you rather not take in. Slow to interaction, but you rather not interact.

You were so disconnected from the world around you. What is this world anyways?

Scaramouche was looking at you from the door. You have been in your head for a week, you have refused food, and sleep. You haven’t been keeping up with your job, nor your routine of self care. Scaramouche would nag and complain to you about your behavior, and call you names for this, however, when you showed no reaction to this, he began to worry.

At first his worry was getting angry and frustrated as he didn’t know how to deal with this. What to do when a human is behaving like a lifeless doll? Such irony of this. However, it soon turn into concern and worry, were there is no anger, just a worried face. A child who realized that things were serious. A shattered reality that you were in a deep hole.

Was it...his fault? Was he too harsh? Did he...did he repeat the same mistake as his creator onto you? What did he do?

Pondering, Scaramouche did something he had rarely done. He walked in slowly, and placed a plate of food on your desk. He pulled a chair and sat next to you. He placed his hand on your lap, and rubbed it. "Hey..." He tried to get your attention. "Are you alright? You...You haven’t been yourself lately. I am...worried for you..." You slowly raised your head and looked at him. You had dead eyes. No tears, no tone, no nothing. Just a void. "I...I want to disappear.."

Scaramouche widen his eyes and looked at you. He gently adjusted and moved closer to you and pulled you into a tight hug. "No you don’t..."

Your gaze went to the side, catching a glimpse of his navy blue hair. "You want to feel like you belong. " Scaramouche pulled away. "I know what you are feeling...I have...I have thought the same before." "Before I joined the fatui, when I lost my friend to sickness, I was planning to disappear. I was planning to return to my creator and beg her to unmake me, so I no longer experience the pains of this world."

You looked at him surprised. "I just wanted to belong...when I met you, you made me feel at home...and I belonged to you."

He pulled away as you saw tears in his eyes. He kissed your forehead and hugged you tighter. He rubbed your back. "I don’t want you to disappear. I know things have been tough lately for you, but...I am here for you. I would do anything for you. I know I haven’t been the best, but you have me a place to call home, and people to call my name. For you to be happy..."

You felt your back being rubbed, as you teared up slightly. He felt your tears on his shoulder as he rubbed your back more. "There there...its okay. You belong here in my arms. We can work through this together, I know it will take time, but we have all the time in the world...my precious...Takaramono."