#seabird.txt
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Glitch in Irminsul
The creator descends to Teyvat, but the information they know VS the information that Irminsul retains causes the tree of knowledge to glitch out and ‘branches’ the current known state of Teyvat, and the information that was erased blooms into existence once more
[Blog tag] [next >]
Notes: SAGAU, Reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. there ARE shenanigans of a different kind though. No romantic relationships in this one despite aforementioned shenanigans
WC. 3.8k
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“You’re just mad because I’m the Creator’s babygirl, and you’re not.”
You’ve never heard such an absurd sentence in your life, but the hands on his hips and smug expression on the Wanderer’s face is unmistakable. Across from him, just barely restrained by Lord Rukkhadevata hooking her arms under his shoulders, is an apoplectic Scaramouche.
Nobody is entirely sure what happened to Irminsul, yet, but the Tree of Wisdom continues to cheerfully cast its divine light on the scene below without a single care for the chaos it has caused.
“Now now, let’s all settle down for a moment,” Nahida grasps at Wanderer’s sleeves, trying to pull him back from the increasingly tense situation. You can’t help but think of two dogs pulling at the end of their leashes to bark at each other. “I’m sure there is a perfectly logical reason why this is happening.”
You think it might be because of you, considering this all happened when you made your inopportune arrival in Teyvat and accidentally cut your hand on the stem of a Leyline flower, your blood glittering strangely as it was sucked into the plant.
“There’s no way you’re the Creator’s favourite,” Scaramouche sneers, ignoring Nahida in his effort to escape from Rukkhadevata’s grasp. “You’re just a glorified errand-boy for your betters. I have the power of a Fatui Harbinger at my fingertips! Countless soldiers, ready to live and die by my whims!”
“Ha!” Wanderer brushes off Nahida’s attempts to restrain him. He moves her to the side, far more gently than you expected him to, and strides up to where Lord Rukkhadevata is holding Scaramouche. He pokes the Balladeer’s cheek and smirks when he nearly gets his fingertip bit off. “And what has that gotten you so far? You still haven’t gotten to be a true god. On the other hand, I’m on the Creator’s main exploration team, along with the Traveler and other equally powerful Vision wielders. At least I have proof that I’m favoured.”
The light from Irminsul glints off the polished metal of Wanderer’s anemo Vision, and Scaramouche’s frown deepens.
“That doesn’t mean anything. Anyone and their mothers can get a Vision these days.” He waves his hand dismissively as best as he can. “Need I remind you of the Vision Hunt Decree project that I—oh, sorry, I mean you—spearheaded? Those things come a mora a dozen.”
“I think you’re both wrong, clearly the Creator likes me the best!”
The two incarnations turn toward the new voice so quickly you’re nearly afraid their heads might snap off. Picture this: you, sitting sideways across Kabukimono's lap with your arms around his neck in a hug as he rocks the two of you back and forth. You wonder if Kabukimono is aware of the effect his words have on his other selves, but judging by his ‘cat that caught the canary’ expression he most definitely is.
The look Wanderer gives you is nearly scandalized, and you can only shrug at him with a helpless smile.
“Sorry guys… but look at him! Isn’t he just the sweetest thing?” you bring a hand up and pinch Kabukimono’s cheek, causing him to giggle and kick his legs in surprise, nearly dislodging you from your spot.
“He’s kinda pathetic, really.” Scaramouche deadpans, finally having stopped struggling in Rukkhadevata’s hold, and attempts to cross his arms.
“He’s you. You don’t have to like him, but at least be polite.” the Greater Lord scolds, making him yelp by shaking him like a sack of rocks. She then changes to a more matter-of-fact tone as she shakes her hair out of her face, and adds: “If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
“I agree, let’s talk this over like grown-ups, and get to the bottom of this mystery so we can send you all back home to your correct timelines!” Nahida claps her hands together, interrupting any argument that might break out at Rukkhadevata’s statement. Her smile is starting to look a little strained at the edges and you can’t help but feel a little bad for the tiny god.
“This might be the only correct timeline,” the Traveler mutters, chin resting in their hand where they sit propped up against one of Irminsul’s invisible walls.
“That’s right!” Paimon nods and shakes her finger at Nahida. “We assumed only the Descenders’ memories would remain intact when someone erases themself from Irminsul, but clearly the Creator’s memories still exist too!”
Lord Rukkhadevata drops Scaramouche at last, letting him land on the ground with an annoyed oof, and turns to you consideringly. The taller god glances between you and Irminsul, worrying her bottom lip as she thinks.
“If that were wholly true, then wouldn’t I have reappeared in my last known state, diminished to the form of a child due to having depleted my power?” she wonders. “And for that matter, why have two versions of the Wanderer appeared, when the previous erased timeline only contained the Balladeer?”
The Traveler hums as they begin to think out loud, and your attention shifts to them when they address you. “When we found you, your Grace, you were recently injured by a Leyline blossom, correct?”
You nod in agreement, not bothering to speak as you settle more comfortably into Kabukimono’s arms, the long sleeves of his kimono wrapping over you like a blanket. Whatever mechanism is inside him causes his entire chest to vibrate against the side of your head, as if he’s purring.
“And you did mention that your blood was absorbed into the flower, which we know is an extension of the Tree of Wisdom…”
“I think I can see where you’re going with this, Traveler,” Nahida interrupts. Using her power, she draws two green puzzle pieces in the air and slowly pushes them together until one of them overlaps with the other. “If the Creator’s memories are intact, then it stands to reason that, should their memories somehow be introduced into Irminsul, then the information with the greater priority will overwrite the previous existing information.”
“That still doesn’t explain why there’s three of me.” Wanderer crosses his arms and kicks Scaramouche, who has yet to get up. The Balladeer crosses his own arms, pointedly ignoring his newer incarnation.
“I believe I can answer that, now.” Lord Rukkhadevata jerks her thumb toward the Tree of Wisdom. “Having known Irminsul my entire existence, I can sense that there have been deviations in its growth. Where normally the trunk and branches originate from a single organism, there are now several branches that seem to be… grafted, for lack of a better term, onto the main plant. Likely a result of the Creator’s mishap.”
“So instead of overwriting or restoring knowledge into the correct branches, it just got added on to the side?” Paimon asks, floating closer to the tree before the Traveler grabs her by the back of her cloak and pulls her back before she can accidentally touch any of the sprouts.
Nahida claps excitedly. “Correct! All available information is now running concurrently, meaning that all states of being have been altered to allow the five of us to exist at the same time!”
“Oh!” you exclaim, startling Kabukimono out of his contented state. “Like a glitch in the matrix!”
Seven pairs of eyes turn directly toward you, varying degrees of bemusement on each of their faces. You chuckle a bit and sink further into Kabukimono’s lap out of embarrassment. He dutifully wraps his arms tighter around you, obscuring you with his long sleeves.
“So we’re just going to let you not elaborate on that at all?” Scaramouche drawls, throwing a hand in your direction. “By all means, keep us in suspense. It’s not like we need to know what our situation is or anything.”
“It’s really not that helpful, I promise!” you tell them, muffled by the kimono’s fabric. “It’s just… a figure of speech, I guess? It’s just something we say when something unexplainable happens. It’s based off this story where, like, the world is fake-”
At this, Scaramouche and the Wanderer share a brief glance, unnoticed by the rest.
“- and everything is programmed to be a certain way. So when something unexplainable happens, like if you see a black cat walking past you and then a minute later the exact same cat walks past you again! It’s an error, or a glitch, in the programming of the world.”
Nahida and Rukkhadevata head over to investigate the new growths on Irminsul, discussing what you’ve told them in hushed voices, leaving the Traveler to mitigate the situation with the three puppets. Kabukimono clings to you as Scaramouche attempts to pull you out of his lap, the two of them making you wince as you’re forced to withstand their tug of war.
“No! The Creator is my friend now!” Kabukimono protests. “Stop pulling, you’ll hurt them!”
“Then let go and it won’t hurt them anymore, stupid!”
“Niwa told me you have to be nice to people if you want them to do things for you.”
“I know for a fact your precious Niwa also said I’m allowed to take whatever the hell I want, so give!”
“I really don’t think that’s what he meant by that,” Wanderer interjects, coming between the two of them and forcing them apart. “Besides, does the creator call you guys babygirl? No? Didn’t think so, so I’ll be taking my leave now.”
Taking advantage of their surprise, Wanderer scoops you up and launches into the air, anemo power whirring behind him, putting you both out of reach. You shriek at the sudden movement, holding onto the front of Wanderer’s outfit for dear life.
“What, this again? I’m not sure if you want me to be jealous of you, or pity you.” Scaramouche scowls up at where you two are hovering. He tries to look unaffected but you can see him clenching his fists at his side.
“I still don’t actually know what that’s supposed to mean…” Kabukimono wrings his hands and looks between you and the Traveler, who supplies an explanation for you.
“It’s just a term of endearment from the Creator’s world,” they say. “You wouldn’t believe how often I had to hear it when they were possessing me-”
“Hey, what are you doing?!”
Everyone turns to look at where you and Wanderer are. The puppet is trying not to drop you while also batting away your attempts at removing the outer layer of his outfit.
“Hold still!” you grumble. “I’m just trying to figure out if you can purr, too, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of your anemo ability.”
“What are you talking about?! I don’t purr!”
“I do!”
The four of you turn to Kabukimono as he demonstrates the ability, the mechanisms in him working overtime to produce a loud rumble from his chest. The Traveler and Paimon are particularly impressed, and Kabukimono preens under their attention.
“Cut that out, idiot,” Scaramouche smacks the back of Kabukimono’s head, successfully cutting off the noise. “You’re just going to overheat, and then we’ll be stuck carrying around your powered-down body until you start up again.”
“You know how he does that? Does that mean you can do it too?” Paimon asks, her face scrunched up at the idea of the Balladeer doing anything that could be seen as endearing.
“Absolutely not.”
“We can all do that,” Wanderer says at the same time, earning a betrayed look from Scaramouche. “It’s not purring though. You all remember that we’re puppets, right?”
“Yeah….?” The Traveler nods along with Paimon.
“Well, the prototype machinery inside us is what makes that noise.” Wanderer explains. “We can control the speed and make it as slow or as fast as we want, so making it run extra fast makes it louder. However, it also makes the machinery heat up, and if it gets too hot then the failsafe kicks in and shuts off the entire system.”
“Does that mean the Raiden Shogun can purr, too?” The Traveler wonders out loud, successfully distracting Paimon with the absurdity of that mental image.
“What happens to you if it overheats?” You ask, wondering if you should feel bad for enjoying it when Kabukimono purred.
“It’s like fainting for humans,” Scaramouche adds. “Which is why we don’t do that. Nobody likes having to carry around a useless burden.”
“But it’s not dangerous, is it?”
“No, it’s just a lot of trouble. Same as for humans, but no. No lasting damage.” Wanderer then sighs and makes a face even as he pulls you into a semblance of a hug. “Here, I’ll allow it this time, because it’s you...”
Your eyes widen as Wanderer begins to purr as well, audible even over the sound of his anemo power. With a delighted gasp, you throw your arms around him and listen happily, unaware of the glares Wanderer is receiving from below. The Traveler rolls their eyes when Wanderer points at your back and mouths ‘favourite’ at Scaramouche.
“Wanderer, if you’re done being jealous could you please bring the Creator back down?” Nahida calls, and you peek down to see that she and Lord Rukkhadevata have finished their discussion. They wait below, where Scaramouche and Kabukimono were earlier. The two puppets are now a little bit further away, bickering while the Traveler supervises them.
“I’m jealous?” Wanderer scoffs, hoisting you up so you can rest on his hip as he holds you with one hand, the other used to gesture down at Nahida rudely. “You even dare to imply-”
“Please bring the Creator down.” Rukkhadevata repeats, hands on her hips. “Don’t make me come up there and get you.”
You have to stifle a laugh as Wanderer slowly brings the two of you back down, making sure your feet are firmly on the ground before letting you go. You don’t bother to mention how you notice that Wanderer’s body actually is noticeably warmer after purring. You smooth the wrinkles of your clothes and turn to the two Dendro Archons with a smile.
“You guys give off such mom energy,” you tell them. “So, what’s up? Did you figure out anything else?”
“You forget that I was a queen before I was a god,” Rukkhadevata points out. “I know what it’s like to stymie conflict before it becomes a problem. Diplomatically, of course.”
Nahida nods in agreement. “Of course. And yes, Your Grace, we did come to some conclusions! Though, not all of them are final, mostly regarding Wanderer and his counterparts. There are some hypotheses we will need to investigate before we can say for sure…”
“Still kinda wish you wouldn’t call me that,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck. The lofty title is uncomfortable to hear, when you still feel like any ordinary person. “But let’s hear it then. What did you guys come up with?”
“For the most part, exactly the same conclusion that we came to earlier.” Nahida says, drawing in the air with glowing green lines. She draws a tree, and then draws some branches in a different shade. “Your arrival in Teyvat brought a ‘backup’ of knowledge which, when reintroduced to the Leylines, conflicted with the current state of things and instead created additional information that now exists at the same time as the current timeline.”
“That being said,” Rukkhadevata adds her own glowing lines to Nahida’s drawing, in a deeper and more intense green. She circles one branch, and says: “I believe that this timeline’s Dendro Archon remains Lesser Lord Kusanali. Irminsul seems to have resolved this conflict by making it so that my sacrifice to eradicate Forbidden Knowledge was not my life, but rather my godhood.”
“What does that mean for you?” You ask.
“It means that I am now happily retired!” Rukkhadevata exclaims, smiling brightly. “And from what I’ve seen of the information recorded in Irminsul, I have an old friend in Liyue who also recently finds himself with a wealth of spare time. It’s been a few centuries since I last saw him, perhaps I should pay him a visit.”
“Wow, congratulations! I’m sure Zhongli would be glad for the company.” You hug her excitedly, and she returns the gesture with a bright laugh.
“Is that the name he’s going by, now? It would certainly help to have a less recognisable name, I suppose…” Rukkhadevata ponders, and you can hear her humming as she thinks. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll just use my old name. From now on, please call me Aranyani!”
Nahida joins in on your hug, practically bouncing with excitement, and you pick up the tiny god so she can see you both. “I’m so glad for you, Aranyani! I’ve always wanted to meet you,” she exclaims with a shy smile. “I have so many things I want to ask!”
“And you are always free to share in my knowledge, little sapling,” Aranyani coos, patting Nahida’s head affectionately before you all release each other, letting Nahida back down gently.
“So what are we going to do about those two clowns?” Wanderer says and you jump a little in surprise, forgetting he was still there.
You turn to where the rest of the group is. Kabukimono seems to have finally had enough and is tousling on the floor with Scaramouche. The Traveler is attempting to haul the Balladeer away, while Paimon grabs onto the back of Kabukimono’s veil and is yanking him in the other direction. To a very small degree of effectiveness.
“Both of you, please stop!” Nahida rushes forward, and the two puppets spring apart like the other is on fire.
“He started it!” Kabukimono points at Scaramouche accusingly and the Balladeer moves to grab him again, but is easily stopped by the Traveler pulling him back by grabbing his wrists.
“It doesn’t matter who started it,” you sigh, putting your hands on your hips. You put on a stern face and your best ‘disappointed parent’ voice. “I sort of expected more from you two…”
Kabukimono’s devastated expression is enough for you to drop the pretense. You sigh and open your arms and beckon, and Kabukimono happily throws himself into your hug.
“Fine, fine!” You grumble, patting the top of Kabukimono’s head. “As long as you guys aren’t, like, maiming or seriously injuring each other, I guess it’s okay.”
“Yay!”
That’s about as far as you get before Nahida takes Kabukimono’s hand and leads him away, and begins informing him of the history of the world and catching him up to speed on the current timeline. Wanderer and the Traveler chime in every so often, adding in some details that the archon might have missed. Aranyani seems to have already taken her leave, leaving only you and Scaramouche behind.
You pretend not to notice as the disgruntled ex-Harbinger shuffles closer to you, until he bumps his shoulder against yours.
“Hey,” he begins, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but all these annoying idiots kept interrupting me…”
You wait for a minute, until it’s clear he isn’t going to continue until you say something. “Yes? What’s the matter?”
He exhales through his nose and refuses to make eye contact with you. At the edges of your vision, you can see him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” he finally spits out. “I mean, clearly I don’t quite fit in with the rest of these happy-go-lucky morons. I can’t imagine you intended for someone like me to show up.”
“Why not?” You blurt out, more out of surprise than anything else. “I like having you here.” It’s clearly the wrong thing to say, as Scaramouche begins to close off again.
“Don't bother lying to me,” he snaps, facing you with the full brunt of his annoyance. He crosses his arms and sneers at you, looking at you down the bridge of his nose. “I’m not some sad, weak little puppet who needs to be coddled by the likes of you. So save your meaningless placations for someone who would actually feel better after hearing them. You’re only wasting your time, and mine.”
“Okay, no lies then,” you nod, and watch as he braces himself for whatever you’ll say next. “I’m glad you’re here, in a world where every part of you can exist at the same time. And I’m glad I can be here with you to remind you that you’re the sum of all your parts, good and bad, and that I do want you to be here, in all your entirety.”
Scaramouche’s face is carefully blank, and you wonder for a second if he somehow shut down without you noticing. You wave a hand in front of his face, watching as his eyes track your palm. You’re about to say something else when you feel a hand come down on your shoulder heavily.
“Simp.” Wanderer states, patting you with a teasing look on his face.
“What?!” You jump away from him with an indignant squawk. “I am not-”
“Absolutely down bad.” The Traveler adds, and you reach clumsily to slap at the two of them. You miss both by miles.
“I can’t believe I taught you guys words from my world and this is how you repay me!”
“Sorry to interrupt, Your Grace!” Nahida looks properly apologetic at the treatment you’re receiving. “We were just discussing what to do with all of the new people. The Traveler has kindly offered to introduce you to their friendly teapot adeptus in order to have a realm created for you, and Wanderer’s incarnations can stay with you in the new realm!”
“That’s perfect!” you say quickly, eager to escape any more teasing from your team. You avoid Scaramouche’s probing gaze and turn your heated face away from him to look at Nahida and the Traveler. “When can we go? Can we go right now?”
The Traveler nods and holds out a thin tab of wood that you recognize as their realm dispatch. It’s strange to see it in person, for some reason you expected it to be bigger than it actually is. The entire thing can fit in the palm of one hand, like a credit card. “We can go as soon as you’re authorized, Your Grace!”
You’re giddy as you take the dispatch into your hands, rubbing the engraved surface with reverence. You feel a strange sensation, like pins and needles, as the magic in the dispatch settles over you. “This is so cool, you guys. I can’t wait to meet Tubby! Do you think she’ll make me a teapot, too, or something else?”
In your excitement you grab onto both the Traveler and Wanderer, silently begging them to come with you. Just as the three of you touch the surface of the teapot, Wanderer turns to Scaramouche with a pointed look and grins.
“Favourite.” He says smugly as he vanishes.
#genshin sagau#sagau#genshin impact#genshin self aware au#genshin isekai#self aware genshin#genshin scaramouche#genshin wanderer#genshin kabukimono#sagau scaramouche#sagau wanderer#sagau kabukimono#sagau x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#kabukimono x reader#< all currently platonic tho#seabird.txt#glitch in irminsul AU
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man idk why but i just kinda want to make creator! reader's backstory SAD like they were tortured (?) just to keep the rest of humanity/teyvat safe.. like i am a SUCKER for sad/traumatic backstories!!
just a little brainrot i need to get out!!
i'll keep this short and sweet i told myself. lmao. i forgot i'm a sucker for easy angst
Blood of God
Notes: Sagau cult au, cut-based injuries, blood sacrifice. bunch of fun stuff. Reader is the Creator, golden blood, etc. read at your own discretion
WC. 976
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When you first descended into Teyvat, You were initially met with praise and celebration. Countless festivals were held in Your name. Your beloved characters, Your acolytes, were the first ones in line to beg for Your blessings.
That's when everything started to go downhill.
With the realization that Your physical presence in the world meant no more divine guidance, Your acolytes grew desperate for Your blessings. Blessings that You, as a mortal human being, could not grant. Not to the same degree that You used to, when You played the game and bestowed buffs and upgrades aplenty to all Your teams, and generously ascended even those You didn’t have plans for.
But now, even as You stand before them in flesh and blood, Your godlike abilities have been reduced to mere party tricks. You spoke to the animals, and twisted the breeze. You made flames dance with a single gesture, and grew pretty flowers in your footsteps. None of this helped the acolytes, though.
Interest in Your well-being, in You, dwindled. Your acolytes wished You well, the rare few even questioning Your divinity, and sent You on your merry way.
Abandoned and unarmed in a world full of hostile creatures, You took up jobs with the Adventurers Guild. First, it was fetching and delivering goods for the city citizens. Then, it was carrying messages across the countryside from town to town. Lastly, it was picking off monster camps that strayed too close to civilization.
This is where a few of your acolytes found You, injured and bleeding brass-coloured ichor into the dirt and swinging wildly with Your adventurer’s sword.
Deity or not, Your acolytes were not ones to stand idle while another was put in harm’s way. Into the fray they jumped, and fought by Your side despite their reservations about You.
In the heat of the battle, the acolytes noticed something strange. Those sprayed with Your blood were given increased strength and capability for a short while, until the stain dried and wore off.
Encouraged, they investigated further. Using some of Your blood as war paints extended the duration of the blessing by nearly double, coating their weapons with it would increase the effectiveness of their strikes, and a brave few discovered that ingesting it would boost them all-around for the entirety of the day.
Harken, and rejoice! For irrefutable proof of the Creator’s benevolent presence has been revealed! And You, desperate for their love and acceptance, gave it to them without question.
A beautiful, elaborate temple was built in Your honour, with ceremonial blades scattered throughout the decor and deep channels filled with ever-flowing ambrosia running across the floor. As Your holy blood continued to be spilled, the hue of it began to run a shimmering gold.
Those who sought Your blessings need only visit you in Your temple, bringing offerings of kill trophies and unearthed relics. Then, they would partake of Your divinity by their choice of method, dipping their reverent hands in the rivers of ichor that pulse across the temple grounds.
You haven’t stopped bleeding in months.
It was bearable at first, when the first time the channels were filled You were pleased to discover that they would not run dry for some time. When the acolytes came for lessings, you would only need to refill the trenches every few days.
You asked if they could bring You softer offerings, of sweet foods and thoughtful bouquets. Such shows of softness were dismissed with a laugh. What need did you have for plants, when the strength you gave them could afford you even the rarest and most difficult trophies to obtain?
But the Abyss came. Celestia’s wrathful gaze descended. Your acolytes were fighting a war on two fronts.
They came on their hands and knees, emptying your stores quicker than you could refill them. Eventually, you took to sitting in the golden throne with your preferred blade, sluggishly carving yourself open to ensure the continued survival of your beloved acolytes.
It wasn’t enough.
Please, they begged. Give us the strength You once were able to grant. Show us the stars in your eyes and in your blood once more, that we might fight and win in Your name.
Filled with fear, and hurt, and love, you gave them everything you had left.
Their lips and teeth stained with brilliant auric gore, they took to the fields once again. The Abyss fell before them, the cursed beasts of the land fell into disarray and fled into the winds. Celestia conceded victory.
The acolytes cheered and danced in the aftermath of their slaughter. Eager to show their renewed devotion, they returned home to You.
But Your temple had crumbled, and the deep wells that once held Your pulse have turned to dust. Your blessing was but glittering sand in their mouths as they sort through the rubble to find any traces of You.
There was no way to know who broke first. Your acolytes realized too late the price for Your continued generosity, and squandered Your love on chasing strength and war.
Your temple was rebuilt with petals replacing every blade. The grooves filled with the soil that was steeped with the blood of the fallen, and flowers of all shades of vibrant, terribly human red grew there.
Dendrobium and Mourning flowers. Even the azure Sea ganoderma bloomed in rare patches where water pooled deeper.
Had they loved You as a human and not as a seemingly bottomless resource, would You have stayed? The thought of such a question shamed them. You asked for their love and they’d given You their blades. You asked for sweets and they’d brought you the bones of their enemies.
And yet, You wanted to stay. Even as they literally bled You dry, You had only ever wanted their happiness, no matter the cost.
And heavy was the cost.
#genshin sagau#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin isekai#genshin self aware au#sagau cult au#sagau bloodletting au#genshin x reader#sagau x reader#seabird.inbox#seabird.txt#💜 anon
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Event batch 3
all three of these were requested by the lovely @littlemistermedly 😊
🩵 Check out my other event requests! 🩵
"The ways that they love you"
Spinoff of Glitch!AU but can be read as standalone. fluff and smut. everyone involved in this is AFAB yes even the puppets, he/him still used for all three of them though
1. Kabukimono | pillowfort building / frottage, clothed sex
2. Wanderer | falling asleep in class / sub!Wanderer, toy usage. reader wears a strap
3. Scaramouche | PWP, oral (reader receiving), brat!Scara for like 2 seconds
🔞 18+ below the cut!🔞
By clicking "Read More" you acknowledge the above tags/warnings and agree that you are both over 18 and accept responsibility for your own media consumption.
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Kabukimono: Man on the Moon
The sweet puppet holds you gently, sitting with your back leaning against his front as the both of you are squished together by a mountain of pillows and blankets that were generously provided to you against your other roommates’ wills. The pillow fort you’d constructed with the pilfered cushions hide you and Kabukimono from the rest of the world, fitting you both into a little bubble of quiet intimacy.
His chest thrums with the vibrations of his voice box as he hums a little song in your ear, gently smoothing his hands up and down your arms and shoulders.
As his song comes to an end, he wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your head, sighing contentedly.
“That was a nice song, Kabu,” you tell him, putting your hands over his. “Where did you learn that?”
“It’s a nursery rhyme that the aunties in Tatarasuna taught me when I watched the village children!” He smiles gently, chest warming as he closes his eyes and purrs at the memory. “I don’t remember the words anymore, but the tune always makes me feel better.”
“Aww,” you coo, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair. “That’s so cute, Kabu! You must’ve been the favourite of all the aunties.”
“I- I wouldn’t go that far…” You can feel Kabukimono’s temperature rise again as he fights off the flustered expression he makes. You tilt your head back and look at him, catching a glimpse of his shaky smile.
“I’m sure you had mobs of aunties offering you their sons’ and daughters’ hands in marriage,” you grin, poking his cheek as he pointedly looks away, covering his mouth with his hand. “Am I wrong? You’re so pretty, I just know everybody wanted a piece of this.”
“Stop it! Now you’re just teasing me.”
You wriggle around so that you’re facing him, pressing down into his rumbling chest with your entire body. It’s a shame the puppet bodies don’t blush in the same way as humans, because you’re sure he would be beet red right now.
You lean in close and squish your cheek against his, nuzzling into the soft hair that frames his face. You begin to hum, doing your best to imitate the song, a little bit off-key and not quite as confident as Kabukimono’s version, but recognizable all the same. Kabu drops his hand from his face and his smile widens, a touch of softness easing the corners of his eyes.
“That was perfect,” he says to you quietly. “Just the same as I remember.”
---
“Okay, so, I read about this one in a book,” Kabukimono tells you, and you can’t help but be endeared by his excited nervousness. You and he have mostly undressed by this point, only left in your underwear, your other clothes long since discarded as you’d indulged Kabukimono’s growing curiosity.
You let him manipulate you as he takes your legs and parts them, settling in the space between and pauses, eyes darting back and forth in a way that tells you he’s searching his memory for the next step.
“We can just keep doing what we usually do,” you tell him, using your heel to knock against his lower back. “It doesn’t have to be complicated or anything.”
“But I want to try other things!” Kabukimono protests. “How else am I supposed to expand on existing knowledge?”
“Okay, we’ll do it your way,” you let him manipulate you again, this time moving so he’s partially straddling you, slotting your legs together. Suddenly, you have a feeling you know where he’s taking this.
He drops his clothed crotch onto yours unceremoniously, face scrunched in concentration. For a second nothing happens, and he looks like he’s about to be incredibly disappointed, so you take a bit of initiative and cant your hips just a tad.
Kabu freezes and a cut-off squeak escapes his mouth as you grind your clit against his. You do it again, and his eyebrows climb into his bangs.
“Oh!” He exclaims, rolling his own hips experimentally. A grin of delight comes over him as he comes to the realization.
You’re unprepared for how quickly he takes to it, bending toward you to roll your clothed cunts together, and you sink further into the pile of cushions from the force of it.
“This is great,” he gasps, wonder playing on his face. You laugh breathlessly and reach up to stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Ah- I can’t believe how good this feels, how good you feel.”
You briefly lament the distance between the two of you due to this position, wishing you could wrap him in your arms and eat his pleasure whole. He’s purring so loud that you can feel the vibration of it where your bodies connect.
It doesn’t surprise you too much that Kabu comes first, his thighs tensing around yours as he soaks through both layers of underwear between you. He whines and bites back a sob as he continues to grind against you, overstimulating himself as he chases your peak.
The wet friction of the cloth and the sight of him biting his lip to stifle the rest of his noises is what does it for you. You tumble headlong into your orgasm, and you feel him give a valiant twitch against you again.
You give in to your desires and pull him down into your embrace, and he follows along gladly. He collapses onto you, causing you both to exhale with the impact, and wraps his arms around your torso. He buries his face in your shoulder as you bring one hand up to stroke his hair.
“Is that what you were hoping for?” You ask him, your heartbeat racing as you come down from your high. He nods against you, cheerfully sucking a mark into your neck.
“Mhm,” he agrees wordlessly, and after a minute or so he props himself up on his elbows, his body never leaving yours. You hook your ankles over his, holding him in place.
He looks down at you, considering. “So there’s this other thing I read about…”
----- ⚘ -----
Wanderer: Pick up the receiver, I'll make you a believer
The lecture is so indescribably boring that you’ve begun doodling all over your notes, filling every empty space with little cats and plants and stick figures with swords.
Beside you, Wanderer rests his head in one hand, elbow resting on the desk, his other hand lazily flipping his pen. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, holding back a snort as your eyelids and your own slowly begin to droop. He glances around quickly, ensuring nobody else is looking in this direction, then reaches out to you with his mind.
It takes no effort at all to impress the subtle thought of taking a nap into your tired brain. Within moments, you’ve begun to slump over, eyes closed and breathing softly.
Wanderer’s arm reaches around you and pulls you just enough so that you are leaning on him as you sleep. With his other hand, he takes your pen and puts it aside before it can leak all over your notes. Curiously, he peeks at your drawings.
Wanderer doesn’t laugh, but it’s a near thing. There's stick figures of himself, Kabukimono, and Scaramouche in little scratchy renditions of the trio’s daily mishaps. He didn’t realize Scaramouche ended up the most unfortunate of the three of them, having been the butt of the joke most often.
Taking his own pen, Wanderer decides to add a bit of embellishment to some of the doodles. Satisfied with his work, he sits back and listens to the rest of the lecture.
You wake up an hour later thanks to the cacophony of the lecture hall as students pack up their belongings, announcing the end of the lesson. You push off of your temporary pillow with a half-coherent noise, feeling the indent his clothes made on your cheek.
You grab your own notebook, intending to put it away as well, when you notice the new addition to your drawings, and you laugh loud enough to scare yourself fully awake.
Wanderer had drawn giant cartoon dicks onto your stick figures of him.
“What,” Wanderer says, smirk audible in his voice. “You don’t like it? I think it suits me.”
“You are SO lucky this wasn’t the notebook that we have to hand in to the professor,” you wag your finger at him playfully. “Do you know how much work it would be to recopy all of my notes into a fresh book?”
“Maybe don’t fall asleep somewhere where I can draw in it, then,” Wanderer counters, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. He takes your hand as you finish packing your own bag, and you begin the journey home together.
“Thanks for letting me nap, by the way,” you smile gratefully at him, swinging your clasped hands between you.
“No problem, you can just pay me back later,” Wanderer shrugs. You squint at him suspiciously.
“How do you want me to pay you back?” you ask, already not liking where this is going.
Wanderer’s smirk widens at your predictable reaction. “How about you top, tonight?”
“Nooo!” You wail in despair, dropping his hand like it’s on fire. You stomp ahead, and you can hear Wanderer’s cackles behind you. “This is why I never ask you for anything!”
“Come on, you always make me top, though,” Wanderer needles you in a sing-song voice as he jogs to catch up.
“You do that out of your own choice, bossy!”
“Can’t you do it for one night?” He asks, giving you puppy eyes that you definitely don’t melt at.
“But I wanna be lazy…” You pout and cross your arms, denying him from taking your hand again. Instead, he puts his hands into the pockets of his shorts and nudges you with his shoulder.
“Should’ve thought of that before you took a nap,” he states simply. “Since you’re sooo well rested, now, I guess you have more energy than I do. Especially since I took all the lecture notes for today, and maybe I’ll share them with you if I’m in a good mood.”
You don’t drop your pout, but you do lean into him as the pair of you walk.
“Fine, I guess,” you relent with a sigh, not really as disappointed as you’re pretending to be. “Can I use the purple toy?”
“Sure,” Wanderer leans over and gives you a quick peck to your cheek. “Whatever you want, babe.”
---
Whatever your hang ups with topping, it’s all worth it to see Wanderer shaking and moaning under you so prettily. With his elbows braced against the table, head resting on his forearms, the view of his toned back flexing with every movement you make against his sweet spot is incredible.
You run your fingertips over the fabric of your strap where it connects with the purple toy you chose, marveling at just how wet it is. You push into Wanderer again, grinding your own clit against the back of the textured material.
“Maybe you’re right,” you pant, smug as you pound into his greedy hole. “I should top you more often, this is awesome. Who knew you could get this loud?”
Wanderer makes a valiant attempt to look over his shoulder and scowl at you, but another snap of your hips has him swallowing whatever snarky remark he was about to make at your expense. Another loud whine pulls from his throat, and he bites his own arm to stifle the rest.
You have no idea how many times you’ve made him cum, though you count at least twice based on the growing puddle beneath you. Maybe three. (Very, very distantly, you hope you don’t slip on the wet floor. You’re not sure you could take the embarrassment.)
Another full-body shudder runs through him, and one arm reaches behind himself to grab at your fingers where they’re holding his waist in a grip that would bruise if he were able to. With an airy laugh you bat his hand away.
“What’s wrong? You asked for this.” You remind him, using both hands to pull him backward onto your toy. You hum lowly as the movement causes the base to rub against you, urging you closer to your own orgasm.
“Ugh, if I’d known-” he cuts himself off with a reedy cry. You take pity on him, allowing him to slump onto the table. You press into him one more time, remaining still as he fights the overstimulation, twitching around the toy buried inside. “ Ah- if I’d known you’d be this into it, I would've made you do it a lot more.”
“Sorry, did you say more?” Your smile turns devious as you pull out, to his weak protests, and push back in slowly, building your rhythm again. The squelching noises leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, if anyone were to walk by your room right now.
Wanderer thinks he might be in for a long night.
----- ⚘ -----
Scaramouche: Moment’s Silence
Out of the three of them, you would've expected Scaramouche to be the least tactile. As it turns out, you couldn’t be more wrong. He just doesn’t show it well. Or nicely.
During the day, and in front of anyone else, he remains the grouchy, taciturn puppet you’ve come to know and love. However, when the lights dim and everyone retreats to their respective rooms, his clingier side comes out to bother you.
Which is why you’ve been here for the past thirty minutes, splayed out on your back in the middle of your bed, trying to read one of the many books in your inventory, with the Balladeer on his stomach between your legs doing his utmost to distract you from getting into the plot.
Another jolt of pleasure shakes your concentration, and you lift the book to give a halfhearted glare at Scaramouche, who’s tongue still flicks lazily against you.
“Do you mind?” You huff, nudging him with your leg, to which he responds by grabbing your knee and pushing it back down roughly. “H- hey! If you’re not going to get on with it, can you at least let me finish reading?”
“Shut up,” Scaramouche snaps at you, baring his teeth irritably. “This isn’t about you.”
Despite his harsh demeanor, the next swipe of his tongue is heavy and languid, dragging up the cleft of your sex. You gasp and arch under his touch, and he takes advantage of the moment to slide his hands beneath your back, holding your hips to his face.
“I would say- ah- that you’re eager to please,” you tease him, reaching down to stroke his hair, fingers curling in his indigo locks. “But you always look like- hah- like you have a gun being held to your head when you do this.”
In retaliation, he gives a harsh suck to your swollen clit, quickly followed by him turning his head away (you have to hold back a whine at the loss of stimulation) to bite into the meat of your inner thigh.
“Ouch! Why?!”
The glare Scaramouche gives you could freeze a hot spring.
“In what universe would I do something like this if I didn’t want to?” He demands, pulling one of his hands out from beneath you to pinch your sensitive nub, rolling it between his pointer and thumb as you fight and fail to snap your legs closed around his head.
Without waiting for a response, two of his fingers breach your entrance and slowly spread apart, baring your soft insides to his scrutiny.
“Why shouldn’t I take advantage of everything you present to me?” He asks, tone reverent as he leans back down and his tongue delves into your cunt. You shiver at the feeling of him licking every slick crevasse, the noises that reach your ears causing you to flush with embarrassment.
He groans into your skin as he feels you clench around his tongue, the vibrations causing you to squeal and thrash in his grasp. The sheets beneath you are positively soaked with your fluids and his saliva. He twists his fingers inside you just so, and you drop your book with a choked gasp.
“You taste amazing, I can’t believe you think I don’t want this,” he mutters, his hot breath tickling the insides of your thighs. Your hand in his hair tightens, and you’re not sure if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.
“I… I…”
Your lack of response seems to amuse him and he chuckles against your wet hole. He gently takes his fingers out and uses his slick-damp hand to hook behind your knee and push it up, opening you more to him.
“Such a good boy. Are you close?” He looks up at you through his lashes, licking a heavy stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking the twitching bud between his lips teasingly. “Cum for me, pretty boy. Show me how well I did.”
You’re unable to formulate words as he pushes you over the precipice, throwing your arms over your face as you cry out, hips jerking against his clever tongue. Never once have his eyes left your trembling form.
You’re panting like you’ve just run a marathon, still spasming with the aftershocks, when you feel Scaramouche crawling up the length of your body. You watch through your post-orgasm haze as he licks the mess from his lips and hand.
“Is that it?” He teases, caging your head with his arms as he leans down, breathing into your space. “I thought you wanted me to ‘get on with it’.”
Your brain is still in the process of rebooting, and he laughs mockingly at your fucked out expression. Your head falls back as you try to catch your breath, and you feel more than see him as he shucks his own shorts off, grabbing the headboard with both hands as he straddles your shoulders.
“Come on, where’s your manners?” He croons, voice hitching as your eyes finally come into focus, greeted by the sight of his own slick, fluttering hole. “I think you know how to say ‘thank you’.”
No need to be told twice. Your hands come up to hold his waist, thumbs rubbing circles into the divots at his hips. You watch with rapture as his expression changes as you slowly pull him down to your mouth.
#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin scaramouche#genshin wanderer#genshin kabukimono#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#kabukimono x reader#genshin sagau#genshin isekai#genshin self aware au#self aware genshin#sagau#sagau x reader#scaramouche smut#seabird.txt#birdy.thanks#birdy.afterdark#all three of the section titles are songs btw give em a listen if you wanna
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.Irminsul --amend -m 'Scaramouche'
Nahida has called in the book club to try and start discussions about the Creator's situation. Cyno actually kinda knows what he's talking about and Alhaitham is... mostly there for moral support...
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Notes: SAGAU, reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. Separate warning for my writing being all over the place on this one. all relationships are currently platonic!
WC. 2.6k
----- ⚘ -----
There’s not much to do except wait for Alhaitham and Cyno to show up, unfortunately, so you have taken to chatting with Nahida and Aranyani about some of the games and toys that exist back on Earth. Aranyani seems to be interested in the mechanics of each, comparing them to existing games in Teyvat, while Nahida is more interested in trying them out for herself, someday.
Scaramouche doesn’t seem interested in the conversation, but he sits with the three of you anyway and watches the shadows of birds moving beyond the stained glass windows.
You’d just been explaining the concept of the rubix cube and algorithms to the two gods when a sure knock is heard on the sanctuary doors. Scaramouche takes the opportunity to make his escape from the conversation, shuffling to the door and opening it for the newcomers.
Cyno steps in, followed by Alhaitham, and the two of them hold each other at a polite distance as they walk down toward the dais, where the rest of you stand to greet them.
“Hello, my friends!” Nahida exclaims, smiling brightly and clasping her hands together even as she and Aranyani take a gracious step back to allow you and the newcomers space. “Thank you so much for being here! We have a lot to discuss!”
“We came as soon as we heard,” Cyno replies, nodding. He then turns to you with a little salute. “Your Grace, it is an honor to be in your presence.”
You put your hands up placatingly. “Please, there’s no need for formality…” you say, shuffling awkwardly on the spot as everyone looks at you. You clear your throat and gesture for the newcomers to continue.
“We heard about the circumstances after your arrival in Teyvat,” Alhaitham states, stepping around Cyno, stopping at his side and crossing his arms. Straight to the point. “Do you remember the circumstances that led up to your descent? It might help point toward the root cause, and shed light on the ‘how’s and ‘why’s.”
“Uh, good question,” you mutter, scratching your head about it for a second. “I was probably hanging out in my room or something, really. Playing, uh, games on my phone.”
You wonder if it’s too early to mention that said game was Genshin, AKA. controlling their world. You know they’re marginally self-aware, but the extent of which still escapes you.
“Alright, and did you do anything different while you were playing on this ‘phone’? See anything strange?” Cyno picks up, pulling out a small notepad and quill. “Anything out of the ordinary, things that you don’t normally do or notice.”
“Well, my phone has been glitching a lot when I play games, lately,” you muse. “And I kept getting these buggy screens while I was in-game, but I figured that was just because my device was overheating or something. You know, they build them faulty on purpose so they can sell you a new one every few years? Apparently in France or something they made companies give people the right to repair their own phones, but we don’t have that where I live…”
Cyno writes down most of the first half of what you say, but you seem to lose the crowd as you ramble. He looks up from his notepad to fix you with a level stare, though you can tell there's just a hint of confusion behind his expression.
“Can you say something that makes sense to people who live in this world?” Scaramouche interjects somewhere in the middle of your rambling, the first time he spoke since you guys first teleported to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. “Or at least stay on topic, or something.”
“Oh,” you reply, blinking. “Right.”
Cyno nods to you again, though he keeps glancing at Scaramouche out of the corner of his eye. Alhaitham doesn’t bother with subtlety, fixing the Balladeer with a level, analytical stare. Cyno clears his throat after a few seconds of awkward silence, preparing his notepad once more. “So, you were saying you played on this ‘phone’ device, aside from the problem you noticed, was there anything else you did differently?”
“Not really,” you shrug. “I was playing the game like I normally would, doing commissions and stuff. No, wait, actually I did do something a bit weird.”
This causes Cyno to perk up, and he leans forward onto the balls of his feet as he listens attentively.
“Because the game was overheating my phone, my ping was super slow,” you explain. “So I was lagging pretty badly. I was doing one of the leylines in the jungle and I was spamming the interact button on the flower because I was getting impatient…”
“And then?”
“... And then I think another dialogue box popped up, but I didn’t notice what it said.” You finish, sighing. “After that, I just remember waking up beside a leyline thingy right here in Teyvat.”
“Do you remember the exact location of the leyline?” Alhaitham asks, to which you shake your head.
“The Traveler and Wanderer found me not too long after that, and took me straight to the city. They probably have a better idea than I do, honestly. I didn’t really have a chance to figure out where I was, at the time…”
“Do you recall any distinctive landmarks? Anything that stood out in an otherwise unremarkable location?”
You shake your head again, trying to remember what you saw. “No, uh, I was a little bit distracted by discovering I was suddenly in- uh, in Teyvat, and-”
“So you were not already aware of your location when you descended?” Cyno clarifies. You nod quickly.
“I only figured out it was Sumeru when the Traveler started bringing me closer to the city,” you agree, wringing your hands nervously under the general’s gaze. “The few little houses and tents that started popping up, the architecture kinda gave it away…”
“Were there any inconsistencies you noticed between your knowledge of Teyvat and the actual Teyvat when you arrived?” Cyno asks, his head tilted to the side ever so slightly. “Just to make sure you’re in the correct version.”
“Well, funny you should mention that,” you figure it wouldn’t hurt to share this, given the result of it sitting right next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, Nahida is giving you a thumbs up. “I got hurt touching a leyline, not the same one as when I first got here, though! I got a little cut on my hand, because the leaves are a bit sharper than I was expecting…”
Alhaitham’s attention shifts from the Balladeer back to you. “What happened when you were injured?”
“I, uh, I accidentally made Irminsul recover some deleted information.” You simplify as best as you can. “And now there’s several things that were added back to the world that aren’t technically supposed to be here...”
“I’ve never heard of leylines doing that, before,” Cyno remarks. “Then again, it’s not every day the Creator descends to Teyvat.”
“Have you tried going back to the same location to see if it yields reverse results?” Alhaitham wonders aloud, seeming amused by the strange predicament.
“And what is that supposed to achieve?” Scaramouche interrupts again, snorting as he crosses his arms. “Besides going for a leisurely stroll through the jungle, I mean. Irminsul already recovered the missing data, and the location itself doesn’t matter, if you haven’t noticed already, since you can find a leyline just about anywhere.”
“It’s certainly an unprecedented behavior for leylines,” Cyno agrees. “But again, the Creator has never descended before-”
“We heard you the first time,” Scaramouche deadpans, earning him a smack upside the head courtesy of you. “Ow! Do you want to figure this stuff out or not?”
“Be nice,” you grumble, though you do feel slightly annoyed at the repetitive line of questioning. “He’s just ruling things out, right?” You turn to Cyno, nodding encouragingly for him to continue.
“Ley lines are a complicated but fascinating subject to study,” Cyno states, crossing his arms and tucking his notebook under one elbow. “However, I’m afraid interdimensional travel is a little bit outside Spantamad’s realm of expertise.”
“Honestly, that’s fair,” you give a resigned sigh, but Scaramouche cuts you off.
“But how’s that supposed to help you?” He sneers and rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s like you want to be stuck here forever with no explanation for how you got here in the first place.”
“Can we just chalk it up to magic or something?” You ask sheepishly, a little embarrassed at having taken the time out of two of Sumeru’s most important figures’ days.
“I was looking forward to hearing about how you got into this predicament with your own two idiot hands, honestly.”
“What I want to know,” Alhaitham suddenly interjects, surprising everyone else with his initiative. “Is how the Creator and the Dendro archon are here, cozying up to a Fatui harbinger?”
Four pairs of eyes blink at him in surprise, while Cyno nods in agreement.
“I think that’s the more pressing matter, here,” he agrees, and you can sense the tingle of static in the air as his previously-relaxed grip on his notebook starts to tighten.
“Okay, see, that’s one of the things I was talking about!” You say quickly, the words leaving you in a rush in hopes of stemming the building tension in the sanctuary. “He was a harbinger before, but he’s all better now!”
“You say that like it was an illness,” Scaramouche snorts, to which you can only laugh.
“Yeah? As if you didn’t act a little bit sick in the hea-”
Nahida, who up until now has been doing an excellent job of pretending to mind her own business, decides to chime in before the general can come to his own conclusion.
“I apologize for not warning you two earlier, but I do have it on good authority—that authority being myself,” she hides her giggle with the palm of her hand, “that the Balladeer poses no harm to either of you, or the Creator!”
“It’s also kinda my fault that he’s here, so I mean…” You trail off and give an apologetic shrug.
“How did you know I was a harbinger?” Scaramouche’s eyes narrow at Alhaitham and he crosses his arms as well, mirroring both the scribe and Cyno. “As far as I've been told, the memory of ‘me’ was erased from Irminsul.”
Cyno shakes his head. “No, there is recorded evidence of the Balladeer’s involvement with the sages’ god-creation plan,” he corrects, relaxing very slightly after Nahida’s reassurance but not dropping his guard completely.
“I was present at the time of the Traveler’s investigation of the Joruri workshop, where they confronted the mechanical false god,” Alhaitham adds. “The person who fell from the machine indeed bears striking resemblance to you, but was confirmed to not be the Balladeer himself. However, Lord Kusanali’s own interjection confirms that you are indeed the Balladeer.”
“He’s been reformed,” you say cheerfully, but your mind is running a mile a minute. Evidently Nahida and Aranyani are on the same page, because the two goddesses drift closer with curious looks on their faces.
“So Irminsul has already started patching the holes in Teyvat’s history,” Nahida muses, hands on her hips. “It’s much faster than I anticipated, given the circumstances.”
“Not as surprising as you would think, little sprout,” Aranyani pats her head. “Irminsul is capable of very rapid computation, but the problem lies in resolving as many conflicting histories as possible. Two is faster, but three will cause some things to be shuffled around for a few days, still. The justification of the existence of multiple incarnations of the Balladeer may yet be subject to change.”
“So you’re saying that what we currently perceive as fact, is instead false?” Cyno asks, having retrieved his notebook once more. As the goddesses continue to muse on the subject, he writes down their theories and makes some notes of his own.
“I’d say sorry for that workshop fight,” Scaramouche says, addressing Alhaitham with a smug grin. “But I honestly didn’t even remember you being there. I guess you just weren’t that noteworthy to me at the time. No hard feelings, right?”
Alhaitham doesn’t even bother to grace him with a look, much to Scaramouche’s annoyance. Instead, the scribe quietly listens in on the Irminsul discussion.
Meanwhile, you try to remember what team you had when you took on the Archon quest fight. It’s been a while since then, and you’re not sure if you’re thinking of the right fight. Maybe you used Alhaitham in one of your weeklies? Speaking of which, do those boss fights exist in the world of Teyvat, or is that just for you as a player of the game? If they exist, how do the characters feel having to go beat up the same people on a weekly basis? What about the characters who are weekly bosses, like Wanderer, Childe, and Ei?
Thinking about it is starting to give you a headache.
You decide to tune back in as Nahida and Aranyani finish bouncing ideas between themselves, with Cyno furiously scribbling annotations in the margins of his notepad. What was it they were talking about again? You get the sense that maybe you should've paid a bit more attention.
“- that’s the case, then we should contact Inazuma and see if there is a new history that came up.” Cyno offers, to which Nahida shakes her head.
“If we ask directly, the answer we will get is the same.” She explains, wringing her tiny hands. “To them, this knowledge will have always existed. They will perceive it as an unchanged fact, in the same way you and the Scribe believe the circumstances of the Balladeer to be a fact. The better people to ask would be the ones involved in the anomaly.”
“Alright, and how do we find them?”
“See, that’s the funny part…” You begin, only to be interrupted by a sudden swirling pressure in the chamber.
It’s strange to see the teleportation from an outside perspective. You watch as Wanderer shimmers into existence, adjusting his hat. The metal charms on the ends of it chime as they settle. He looks up, catching sight of you first and raises a hand to wave, only to stop short when he sees the other guests.
“... Looks like I’m late to the party,” he remarks, drifting over to Nahida’s side. “Wanna catch me up to speed? Not that I care, but I might as well get the full picture so I can correct you where you're wrong.”
“I asked for the General and the Scribe to come visit so that we could get a better grasp on the Creator’s situation!” Nahida explains, smiling brightly at him.
“Great, and how did that go?”
Everybody chooses to look in different directions, unable to look Wanderer in the eye. You hear him heave an annoyed, but resigned, sigh.
“We might’ve gotten somewhere if Buer hadn’t sidetracked,” Scaramouche adds helpfully.
“And you might’ve gotten the groceries like you guys said you would, too, but here we are,” Wanderer crosses his arms, pinning you and Scaramouche with a pointed look.
You wince and turn around, subtly leaning over to Scara, whispering: “I actually forgot about that…”
“Me too…” he replies, not quite as quietly as you. You both startle as hands come down on both of your shoulders, Wanderer’s grinning face appearing between the two of you.
“Isn’t this just a splendid opportunity for you two to go find the traveler and restock our pantry, while Buer and I go over the details of what you clowns didn’t explain right?”
Scaramouche wastes no time wresting his shoulder out of Wanderer’s grasp with a noise of disgust. “Who do you think you are to order me around, teacher’s pet? I’ll go when I feel like it.” He sneers, stalking off toward the doors of the sanctuary.
You offer a light chuckle and a wry grin of apology to the others, who watch unimpressed at Scaramouche’s display, while Wanderer dismisses you with a shooing motion.
Right. Time to get those supplies.
#genshin sagau#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin self aware au#genshin isekai#genshin wanderer#sagau wanderer#genshin scaramouche#sagau scaramouche#sagau x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#seabird.txt#glitch in irminsul au
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.Irminsul stash --Traveler_Inventory
You and Scaramouche head over to ask the Traveler for some groceries
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Notes: SAGAU without cult shenanigans, mostly filler chapter. sorry for the long hiatus!
WC. 1.5k
----- ⚘ -----
As much as you enjoyed spending your time running around Teyvat in-game, nothing quite prepares you for how vast it actually is.
Of course you’ve known that, logically speaking, it’s impossible to correctly scale an entire city using a limitation such as video game engines. You are still knocked completely off your feet at the sight of the sprawling verdant domes and alabaster walkways of Sumeru City.
You jog down from the Sanctuary doors and lean over the railing, eyes tracing the knotted branches of the Great Tree where they mesh flawlessly with the infrastructure of the city. The scale of things is easily dozens of times bigger than what is shown in-game, and despite the beautiful graphics it has, the game definitely cannot do justice to the sheer variety of buildings and people that make up Sumeru City. Unable to help yourself, you make wordless noises of awe as you take in the scenery.
“You’d think you’ve never seen a city before,” Scaramouche’s deadpan voice states from a few paces behind you, where he’s lazily following you down the ramp. You turn and face him, taking note of how he’d removed the colourful belts, ropes, and other identifying markers of his outfit, leaving only his bodysuit and black jinbei. He looks deeply annoyed by this state of undress, so you wisely choose not to mention it.
“I mean, I’ve never seen it like this before,” you agree, gesturing to the skyline with a wide sweep of your arm. “Like, I’ve seen some of it from a certain, uh, distance? But seeing it in person… Wow. Just doesn't compare.”
Scaramouche says nothing as he finally comes to a stop beside you, arms crossed as he surveys the view. After a few seconds he snorts derisively. “Looks the same as it always does, to me.” He scoffs. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”
You let him drag you down the rest of the ramps until you both meet the pale bricks of the main road. You follow him as he leads you, presumably, to wherever the Traveler is staying. Your eyes wander aimlessly, taking in the sights.
Something tugs at the gem of your shirt and you stop walking, surprised. When you look down, you see a small child with dirt stains on their hands and knees, and a streak of dirt across their face. The child beams up at you, holding out their closed fist and shaking it at you.
“Oh, hello. What’s up?” You ask, crouching down beside them. You hear a noise of disgust from Scaramouche, which you wave off in favor of giving the child a smile. “Anything I can help you with, buddy?”
The child shakes their fist again and you finally get the message. You present your own open hand, palm upturned, and the child drops whatever they’re holding into it. They scamper off quickly before you can say anything, so instead you peer at the tiny object in your hand.
It’s a small stone, with a very simplified carving on it. It appears to be some writing, and an angular leaf shape. The marks are gibberish to you, but surely it has significance of some kind, so you pocket it and stand back up. You give Scaramouche an apologetic grin, to which he simply rolls his eyes and continues on.
The walk is, understandably, much longer physically than it is in-game, and you find yourself a little winded by the time you’re anywhere near the Grand Bazaar. You do eventually get to a building that you (very, very vaguely) recognize as the inn the Traveler and Paimon stayed at during the Sabzeruz Festival arc, and you huff a sigh of relief that the long stroll is finally over. Before you can even approach or knock, you’re bowled over by a flying white mess of limbs.
“Creator! You’re here!” Paimon squeals in your ear as she tackles you to the best of her ability, and you wince as she excitedly hugs whatever part of you she can reach. “I’m so glad that stupid mean puppet didn't kill you yet!”
Scaramouche makes an offended noise at that last remark and flips Paimon the bird.
“Yeah, here I am!” You laugh after untangling her from around your head and pat her head as the Traveler joins her, looking a little worse for wear. Their outfit is a little stained in places, and bears some signs of scorch marks at the edges.
“Good timing, we just got back from our morning commissions,” they say with a wave. “I didn’t think you’d be out and about so soon, is there anything you need help with?”
“We want your ingredients supplies.” Scaramouche blurts out, interrupting any of your attempts to phrase it in a nicer way.
“All of them?!” Paimon gasps, absolutely devastated. You quickly step in before Scara can say anything else.
“No no! Just a little bit,” you reassure the sprite, then address the rest of your request to the Traveler with an affable shrug. “If you have anything to spare we’d really appreciate it. We don’t exactly have a lot of food in my teapot yet. Or, uhh… Any food, at all.”
“Oh!” The traveler smacks their forehead with the heel of their palm. “I didn’t think of that, Your Grace, I’m so sorry!”
“You really don’t have to call me that,” You laugh awkwardly at the title and volume at which the Traveler said it, conscious of the curious glances your little group has attracted. All around you you begin to hear indistinct murmuring, and you frantically hope they’re not talking about you. “And, uh, don’t worry about it! It’s a bit short notice, I get it.”
“As long as you leave some for us, it’s no problem!” Paimon says as she recovers from her shock. The Traveler turns to her with a sly grin.
“As long as they leave some for you, you mean?” They tease, to which Paimon splutters in protest. The Traveler gently pokes her cheek while she throws her tantrum.
“Can we take this inside?” Scaramouche asks waspishly, stopping the pair’s bickering for a moment. “Or literally anywhere else? Maybe you two enjoy being ogled like zoo animals, but I personally don’t appreciate being eyed up by the unwashed masses.”
“How rude! You haven’t learned a single thing, have you?!” Paimon scolds, turning her wrath on the harbinger.
“Actually, I agree,” you give a halting laugh as you step closer to the building. More and more eyes are turning toward you. You give the crowd an awkward wave, and suddenly the murmurs turn into a clamor as people begin to understand your identity.
“Oh, whoops,” the Traveler says, grabbing both your hand and Scaramouche’s bicep. Paimon quickly gets the idea and grabs onto the sleeve of their outfit. “Time to go!”
-----
You spiral back into existence high above the streets of Sumeru, close to the Akademia front doors, having been forcefully teleported as a group with the Traveler. They set you down gently, while simultaneously dropping Scaramouche like a sack of potatoes.
“Ow! Hey, watch it!”
“Are you alright, Your Grace?”
Three pairs of eyes watch as you dust yourself off and give a cheerful thumbs up. “All good!” You announce. “Let’s talk groceries, shall we?”
In the end, the Traveler decides to give you and Scaramouche three bags of dry products—things like fruits and veggies, rice, sugar, coffee beans, and cured meat—and promises to stop by your teapot sometime later in the week to deliver cold foods and more fresh produce.
“I’m sure some of this probably isn’t what you’re used to in your world,” the Traveler says apologetically, giving you a wry smile. “If you have any questions about it, I’m sure you can ask Wanderer. He’s been enrolled in some cooking classes for the past few semesters, so he’ll know what he’s doing.”
“Hah! As if.” Scaramouche snatches the last bag of groceries out of their hands with a sneer. “That weakling is going to be out running errands for Buer’s every whim. Do you really expect him to be around long enough to cook adequately? I’ll handle this.”
The Traveler only raises a single eyebrow at the declaration, then shrugs. “Suit yourself,” they chuckle. “Just don’t poison the Creator, I guess.”
“Can the Creator even get sick?” Paimon asks, hovering around you and inspecting you closely enough to make you ticklish. “I’m not sure gods are supposed to be able to get sick, you know!”
“Well, we don’t want to find out!”
“It’s fine, a little food poisoning won’t kill me,” you reassure the three of them, knowing you’ll be having a rough go at it for the foreseeable future given what you know about Scaramouche’s current cooking skills.
“So, what? None of you have any faith in me?” Scaramouche frowns and crosses his arms as best as he can around his grocery bags.
The response comes from the three of you at the same time.
“No.”
#genshin sagau#genshin isekai#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin self aware au#sagau x reader#genshin scaramouche#sagau scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#seabird.txt#glitch in irminsul au
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Deus Vocat
'Just how close to divinity does the god-machine get?'
Pretty darn close, as it turns out. The rest is entirely up to you and Scaramouche.
[p1] [p2 - you are here!] [p3]
Notes: Genshin SAGAU, cult au, mostly confusion and miscommunication in this one. mild swearing. still pre-3.2 plotwise!
WC. 1.6k
----- ⚘ -----
Three days and three nights. That’s how long Scaramouche waited to hear Your voice again. The more the hours drew out, his temper became increasingly volatile every time the nervous technicians would open the Shouki no Kami’s cockpit to check up on him.
Each time he would kick them out and slam the cockpit shut, even nearly taking off a mechanic’s arm with the face plates. His patience runs thinner with every passing moment.
Nearing dawn of the fourth day, finally he feels that strange buzzing connecting behind his ears. He stiffens and pulls himself upright, blinking weariness out of his eyes.
“Your Grace?” he mumbles, the sudden drop in pressure in the cockpit makes him dizzy. “Is that you?”
Your voice crackles over the connection, sounding a little farther away. “Hey, yeah, it’s me again. How're you holding up?”
“What took you so long?” is what he replies, the words coming to him despite his head warning him that You are the Divine Creator. “Do you know how much work I could’ve gotten done in the time you took to get back to me?”
“What? It’s been, like, an hour at most.” You reply, sounding skeptical. “Don’t tell me you’re the impatient type.”
“An- an hour?!” Scaramouche runs the math in his head quickly, frowning. “Is there such a time dilation between your realm and mine?”
“What do you mean?”
Scaramouche growls with frustration, rubbing his temples as he feels a headache coming on. “What are you not understanding here? I didn’t think the Creator would be so ignorant of their own creation.”
“... what?”
“Are you being deliberately obtuse? Are you even who you say you are? You wouldn’t be the first to have delusions of grandeur to bring some sort of momentary excitement into their pathetic, insignificant lives.”
“Woah, calm down, buddy,” you say, a warning in your voice. “Let’s just take it from the top, okay? Hello, my name is,” you repeat your name for him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Scaramouche takes a breath and rolls his eyes, then reluctantly complies with the direction you’re taking.
“Hello, I’m Scaramouche, The Balladeer, Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, and I’m currently dealing with an idiot problem.”
“I’m gonna let that one slide for now,” you respond curtly. “Now tell me, ‘Scaramouche’, why did you call me today?”
“You say it as if I somehow did it on purpose.”
“Didn’t you?” The raised eyebrow is audible in your tone.
“Of course not!” Scaramouche snaps, patience waning. “Dottore’s stupid god-machine did something to my head, obviously, and now there’s some kind of connection to you that I have no idea how to control.”
“... god-machine?” you ask, sounding genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”
“The god-machine that the sages commissioned,” Scaramouche explains slowly, smugly, as if he’s talking to a child. “If the gnosis’ connection to divinity is successful, I will be named the new deity of Sumeru and take over the position of that pathetic little god, Buer.”
“You’re going to what to who?” you question again. “Hang on, is this spoilers? I didn’t get that far in the story yet…”
“What do you mean, ‘story’?” It’s Scaramouche’s turn to be confused now.
“Y’know, ‘cause you’re RPing that guy from the game, right? I’m not at that point in the questline yet so, uh, thanks for spoiling the story for me, I guess.”
“This isn’t a game!” His temper flares and he pounds his fist against the face panel of the cockpit, the clang resounding in his ears. “Damn you, is that how you see us, then? As some kind of sick game for your personal amusement?”
“Wow, you’re really taking this personally, huh? It’s not that serious, man, you need to calm down for a sec-”
“I will not be calm!” Scaramouche thrashes about in the cockpit, kicking and punching the interior and creating a hellish metallic sound. Behind him, the tubes slap and rattle around, threatening to disconnect from his sockets if he continues his tantrum. “The Divine Creator just told me that they view our existence as a game!”
Your voice takes on a tone of annoyance, though you appear to be trying to suppress it. “Listen, I looked it up on the wiki, and there's nothing there about this supposed ‘Creator’ character, so I know you’re full of shit. Just cut it out, okay?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Scaramouche shouts into the empty cockpit. And that’s the root of the problem, isn’t it? Clearly he and the Creator aren’t seeing eye to eye on something, here, and it’s causing a terrible miscommunication.
With a great heaving sigh, he tries to reign in his temper.
“What can I do to prove to you that I’m serious, right now?” He asks through gritted teeth.
There's a sound like static that fills his head and he cries out in pain, clutching his ears as if that might stop the noise.
“Hypothetically, let’s say you’re Scaramouche from the game,” Your voice filters in through the static. “Like, the actual NPC or something. The only way I’d believe you is if you do something in-game that’s out of the ordinary. I’m logging in right now, so if there’s something weird happening I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Scaramouche’s thoughts race through his head, though he has no idea what half of the words you say mean, and he wracks his mind trying to think of something he could do to show his presence.
“Where… where are you right now?”
“I’m doing the quest in Pardis Dhyai,” you answer, and sure enough Scaramouche feels a faint tug that he’s come to associate with the Traveler’s presence coming from the direction of the laboratory. “I’m fighting with some Eremites right now.”
Pardis Dhyai, where he knows Haypasia is being kept. The woman had connected with his consciousness briefly during one of the early god-machine tests Dottore had forced him to do. It very nearly put him out of commission for a week, but sharing his consciousness had been proof irrefutable that he could channel divinity, at the time.
“Okay, stay there, I’m going to try something.” He says, and attempts to concentrate on the location. In his mind, he conjures the feeling of static and ozone and aims, internally cheering when he feels the power connect with bodies. “Did you see that? Did I get them?”
“Get what?”
“The thunderbolts!” He says, incredulous. Surely there was no way to miss that, right?
“That’s part of the quest, I saw the walk through of this part,” you huff. “You’re really not convincing me, here.”
Frustration bubbles up and Scaramouche chews his thumb as he tries to think of something else, and that’s when he feels it.
The Traveler touches Haypasia.
A bolt of energy courses through his head, and in the distorted reflection of the metal cockpit he sees his eyes flash again.
He follows an instinct, reaching out to Haypasia’s consciousness and, by extension, the Traveler. He grabs the tether in his mind and pulls, feeling himself travel across time and space, until he’s in Pardis Dhyai.
He blinks and looks around, the faded scenery looking exactly as it had when Haypasia had contacted him. There, standing beside his follower’s unconscious body, is the Traveler.
“Where are you?” Scaramouche asks through the connection, trying to sense if you've left him once again. “There’s nobody else here.”
“... Huh.” Your voice comes through the connection in his head, but also through vibrations in the air. “That’s definitely not part of the cutscene.”
“What the hell is a cutscene?” He demands, still looking around for the source of your voice.
“Right, that’s creepy. Is this a glitch?”
“If you tell me what your words mean, maybe I can tell you.” Scaramouche growls, then points at the Traveler. “You, where is the Creator? I know they’re around here somewhere, I can feel it.”
“No way.” You say, incredulously.
“Huh?”
“Scaramouche, jump up and down three times.”
He looks around again, before settling his gaze on the Traveler. “Why should I do that?”
“You’re trying to prove that you're in the game, right? I can see you right now, so if it’s really you I want you to jump up and down three times.”
Feeling supremely foolish, but willing to humor you on the off chance you aren’t lying to him, Scaramouche gives three halfhearted hops, and immediately crosses his arms.
“Happy now?” he growls.
To his extreme surprise, and slight horror, the Traveler jumps three times as well.
“Oh my god, you’re actually in the game? Like, you’re the character in the game?” You ask, breathless, a tinge of hysteria creeping in. “No way. This doesn’t happen in real life. Games don’t just become self-aware like this. Am I dreaming?”
“Whatever you’re talking about, you better tell me really quick or else…” Scaramouche trails off for a moment, unsure of what he could really do to you, given the metaphorical distance. “Or else I’ll be really angry with you,” he finishes lamely. In front of him, the Traveler’s eyebrows furrow slightly.
“You’re not supposed to, like, know about me,” you continue, raising in octave slowly. “You’re not real! Is my life just a creepypasta right now?”
“Would you cut that out?!” Scaramouche half-shouts, in an attempt to be heard over your frantic voice. He can feel the connection between the two of you waver with each passing second. “Whatever you’re doing, stop panicking!”
“I think I’d like to panic, actually,” you say, and the connection goes dead.
Empty air fills the space behind Scaramouche’s ears, and he snarls in frustration at having been left hanging once again. For a second, he almost forgets the presence of the third party in the room. He looks up and stops his muttering at the sight of the Traveler’s dumbfounded, and slightly scared expression.
“You can hear them?”
#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#sagau#genshin self aware au#genshin isekai#sagau cult au#genshin scaramouche#sagau scaramouche#sagau x reader#scaramouche x reader#seabird.txt#Voice of God AU
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.Irminsul Push/Pull
You, the Creator, experience your first day with the world's weirdest roommates.
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Notes: SAGAU, reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. mild swearing. very gentle puppet bullying, it's probably the cain instinct or smth. all relationships are currently platonic!
WC. 1.8k
----- ⚘ -----
You’re not super sure what you thought telepathic communication was going to feel like, probably assuming you would hear the voice of the other person saying their message out loud in your head.
In reality, it ends up being more like receiving a text message. In all caps. In your head.
GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE.
You sit up in your bed with a frown when the message suddenly crosses your mind. You check outside the mansion’s window, deeming it to be relatively early in the morning. Curious, you slide out from under the covers and shuffle your way downstairs.
Your curiosity quickly turns to irritation as you hear the sound of tools being thrown and voices arguing coming from the direction of Kabukimono’s room, the only currently inhabited room on the ground floor.
You slowly push open the unlatched door and quickly duck to avoid a flying object—what is that? a pair of tongs?—that was aimed somewhere in the vicinity of your head.
“- told you you can’t cook on the forge!” Kabukimono shouts, whiny and furiously stomping around, tossing loose tools around the room. Scaramouche is standing a little ways away from him, holding a bowl of ingredients with a bored look on his face.
“It’s a heat source, isn’t it?” The Balladeer asks, rolling his eyes. “If I can light it on fire, it can cook things.”
“No you can’t! I have to keep it way too hot to cook things,” Kabukimono scolds him, brandishing a metal poker in his direction. “And if you get food crumbs and oil in it, it might affect the quality of the metal! I won’t let you use it, and that’s final!”
“What else am I supposed to use, then?” Scaramouche growls, gesturing widely. “It’s not like this genius Creator of yours, in their boundless wisdom, made a kitchen.”
Whoops. Your eyes scan the room, surveying the damage, until your gaze lands on a terrified Cuppy hiding under a coat rack behind you, close to the door.
“Hey, buddy,” you whisper, inching closer to him. “D’you think you can turn one of the ground floor rooms into a kitchen really quick?”
The little teacup spirit nods frantically and disappears in a puff of smoke, presumably to fulfill your request as fast as possible.
You look around the room again and spot Wanderer hovering above the other two, one leg crossed over the other in a pose hilariously similar to Ei when she’d been meditating in the Plane of Euthymia. You wave to catch his attention, and he looks over at you with a wry expression before zooming over to where you are.
“About time you got here,” he snarks, landing delicately beside you. “These idiots have been going at it for about twenty minutes now.”
“I just asked Cuppy to make one of the rooms a kitchen,” you tell him. “I totally forgot about that, I don’t usually make a kitchen inside the Traveler’s teapot, so…”
“Yeah, you use the outdoor one, right?”
You nod, having briefly forgotten that Wanderer had seen your layout of the Traveler’s realm before. As you’re musing on this, Wanderer darts forward and smacks the underside of Scaramouche’s bowl, causing it to escape the Balladeer’s grasp and sending ingredients flying in all directions, much to Kabukimono’s displeasure.
“What the- why would you do that?!” Kabukimono wails, his argument interrupted. “Look at this mess! Niwa would have a heart attack if he saw this!”
“Half of this garbage is yours,” Scaramouche points out, expression thunderous as he picks up one of the smaller prongs on the ground and uses it to take a swing at Wanderer, who takes to the air and floats out of reach with a smirk.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Wanderer says with a shrug. “I was just getting so sick of hearing you guys whining like babies for no reason.”
“Okay, and you needed to waste perfectly good ingredients, why?” Scaramouche snaps, bending to pick up his now empty bowl and waving it at Wanderer threateningly, visibly restraining himself from flying off the handle.
“Because it’s not like you were gonna actually use them,” Wanderer snaps back. “I am you, and I know for a fact that you can barely make cup noodles if someone else did the preparation for you.”
Scaramouche quickly turns red in the face as Kabukimono laughs at him, so you step in before another argument can break out.
“Guys, come on, I think Cuppy finished making a kitchen,” you say placatingly, hands outstretched and palms up. The three puppets look at you with varying levels of skepticism.
You lead the way out of the trashed room, picking one of the other doors at random and hoping that it’s the one Cuppy chose. Mentally keeping your fingers crossed, you turn the knob and open the door, and freeze in the doorway, prompting at least two of the puppets to peer over your shoulder at the scene inside.
Cuppy did, indeed, choose this room. It’s one of the Mondstat-themed bedrooms, and what the teacup spirit did was put a single stove in the middle of the room and replace the bookshelves with jars and cupboards. Everything else about the decor, including the bed, carpet, and wardrobe, is the exact same.
Wanderer can’t seem to help himself about this, either, and bursts out laughing.
“You call this a kitchen?” Scaramouche asks, pointing at the lonely stove sitting beside the Mond-style bed frame.
“I think he did a great job,” you try, covering your mouth with one hand to hide your amused grin. Thankfully, it seems Cuppy made his escape as soon as he renovated, because he’s nowhere to be seen.
“I don’t get it,” Kabukimono says, and you can feel him pushing someone (Scaramouche) behind you to see the rest of the room, to the person’s (Scaramouche’s) protests. “What’s so funny? A good stove and a well-stocked pantry is more than okay.”
“And,” you interject through your repressed giggles, eager to defend your little teacup spirit. “Having a bed nearby just means you can lay back and relax while you wait for your food to cook!”
“Are you serious right now? It’s just a stove in the middle of a bedroom!” Scaramouche protests, pushing you aside and stomping into the room. He points at the stove, and then at the carpet it’s sitting on. “This cannot be safe, right? This breaks all kinds of safety regulations.”
“We’ll just move it aside, it’s fine,” you say, hoping to diffuse the situation.
“It’s understandable,” Kabukimono agrees. “It’s not like he’s seen a proper kitchen before, right?”
Even Wanderer stops laughing as the three of you stare owlishly at Kabukimono, who shuffles nervously under the attention.
“What?” Kabukimono asks defensively.
“I actually hadn’t thought of that,” you mutter, hands on your hips as you survey the room with new consideration. “He is pretty small, and who knows if he ventured outside of the realm before…”
The other two remain silent, seemingly contemplating Kabukimono’s words but not voicing their opinions on it.
IS IT BAD THAT I FEEL BAD FOR LAUGHING?
You hide your flinch well, the sudden message scaring you out of your own thoughts. You steal a glance at Wanderer out of the corner of your eye, where he’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look you in the eye, instead pretending to be very interested with the shelf of ingredients near him.
‘I think that's just normal’ you think, hoping he somehow receives your thoughts as well. ‘I didn’t think of it either, so we’re all kinda wrong…’
While you’re distracted, Scaramouche has already started lighting the stove, having kicked aside the offending carpet, and browses the shelves for ingredients. He knocks on a few of the jars with a frown.
“... These are all empty.” He finally evaluates.
“Yeah, that tracks, I don’t actually own anything yet,” you nod. “Everything I’ve ever collected is probably still with the Traveler.”
“Presumably they’d be willing to part with some of their stash,” Wanderer adds sarcastically. “I don’t think they really need several thousand of each ingredient they own.”
“I mean, you never know, right?” You chuckle nervously, thinking of all the bag space your farming must have taken up. How does the Traveler’s inventory work outside of a game-mechanic perspective? You suppose you’re going to find out soon enough.
“If you’re going out to get stuff, I’m coming with you,” Scaramouche declares, crossing his arms as if daring you to refuse his company. “No way am I staying in here with these guys.”
You shrug, and Wanderer doesn’t protest either. “Yeah, that’s fine with me. I’ll head out now so we have time to sort and put everything away before lunch.”
“Bold of you to assume we’re going to get anything done before lunch,” Wanderer mutters, herding Kabukimono out of the ‘kitchen’, promising the other puppet to help him clean up the mess in his room.
“Are you ready to head out?” You ask Scaramouche, ignoring the jibe. You hold out your hand, which the Balladeer reluctantly takes, and you will yourselves out of the teapot realm.
You materialize in one of the alcoves of the Sanctuary of Surasthana, briefly disoriented by the change in location until you see Nahida and Aranyani sitting on the central dais, seemingly having a quiet conversation. Nahida spots you first, waving cheerfully at you both.
“Your Grace! Balladeer! Apologies for relocating you, but we decided that the chamber of Irminsul should remain uninhabited for now,” she explains, hands clasped together. “After all, it’s too easy to stumble and damage one of the branches of information, and I would hate for any of you to blame yourselves if that kind of accident were to happen.”
“That’s fair, thanks for doing that for us!” you smile at her thoughtfulness. Still holding Scaramouche’s hand, you lead the two of you down to the central part of the chamber. “Do you know where the Traveler is? We wanted to ask if they could spare some of the materials I had collected from before I came here.”
“Yes, we saw the Traveler earlier, but they went to fetch some people that Nahida recommended,” Aranyani says, picking up Nahida under her arms and putting the small god in her lap. Nahida doesn’t react, still smiling as Aranyani begins to play with her hair.
“Recommended for what?” Scaramouche asks before you get the chance to. You elbow him subtly, a warning to watch his tone.
“To help us figure out how and why you’ve descended to Teyvat, Your Grace!” Nahida claps her hands together. “It will be good to know in case you need to go back home, or if you wish to return here from your world!”
You nod, grateful at the prospect of having that option. “Who did you call in for this?”
Aranyani cheerfully answers this for you: “The General Mahamatra, and a scholar named Alhaitham!”
You share a quick look with Scaramouche.
“The linguistics guy, and the cop…?” You ask, with a slight wince.
“I don’t think you’re figuring this one out anytime soon.”
#genshin sagau#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin self aware au#genshin isekai#genshin scaramouche#sagau scaramouche#genshin wanderer#sagau wanderer#genshin kabukimono#sagau kabukimono#sagau x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#kabukimono x reader#seabird.txt#glitch in irminsul au#we do a little bit of clowning on scara in this household
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Consecuto Divinum
Scaramouche has touched true divinity, and flexed his abilities to their current limits. He must deal with the consequences, however permanent or temporary.
[p1] [p2] [p3 - you are here!]
Notes: Genshin SAGAU, cult au. picks up directly after part 2. Interlude chapter: this is mostly focused on the aftermath of Scara's connection.
WC. 1.3k
----- ⚘ -----
“What do you mean?” Scaramouche bites, feeling the pounding in his head getting more unbearable. “What do you mean, ‘I can hear them’?”
“Well,” the Traveler’s voice is tinny and distant. “You can hear the Creator’s voice, right? Can you… Understand them?”
At this, Scaramouche frowns. “Are you saying that you can hear them, but you don’t understand them?”
The Traveler nods, sheepish and wary. “When they speak, it feels like an unbearable pressure in my chest and my head,” they tell him, cupping one hand over their ear as they shake their head, as if trying to clear the very sensation they’re describing. “An overwhelming weight, pressing down on me from all sides… Like a sense of foreboding, almost. I can only glean a general sense of their emotions, but never words…”
“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Scaramouche states, feeling a deep satisfaction that only he, and not even your supposed vessel upon Teyvat, is blessed with the understanding of your speech. “I’m afraid I can’t help you if you’re too weak to withstand the unfathomable power of that connection.”
The Traveler scowls. “And here I thought maybe talking to the Creator would have made you less of a jerk.”
Scaramouche waves them off, already losing interest. He takes a tentative step forward in this bizarre dreamscape, testing the limits of his projection. To his delight, he can move and even touch things in this half-world, his palm brushing over the verdant leaves of the pavilion's flora.
“What are you doing? Stay where you are!” The Traveler says, their sword drawn and pointing at him. Scaramouche only laughs at the pitiful display.
“You think you’re gonna hurt me? You’re gonna cut me down?” He laughs, cruel and mocking. Without warning, he rushes forward and grabs the Traveler by the front of their stupid outfit, a wide, sadistic smile on his face. “Better make it count, my friend.”
With a cry of surprise, the Traveler swings with their weapon, eyes panicked as they watch the blade slide through Scaramouche’s body as if he didn’t even exist. The puppet laughs harder, letting go of the Traveler’s shirt and covers his face with his hand.
“Ha! Haha! Amazing! You outdid yourself with that one, really you did.” He mocks with a sing-song tone. “You see, that’s the difference between you and I.”
He steps into the Traveler’s space again, bringing their faces close enough that he can make out the golden flecks in their eyes.
“You may be favoured by a god,” he tells them, a saccharine smile spread across his lips as the Traveler stumbles away, hastily putting distance between them. He bursts once more into sharp laughter. “... but I am one!”
“Balladeer, your nose…” The Traveler’s expression is strange, almost concerned, as they point with a shaking hand at his face.
“... huh?”
Scaramouche stops laughing, confusion overtaking him as he feels something sliding down his chin. He touches his face softly, feeling moisture. When he pulls his hand away, he sees dark red and purple blood staining his fingers.
That’s when the world goes dark.
----- ⚘ -----
Scaramouche comes to with the sound of distant, muffled shouting ringing in his head. And isn’t that a strange sensation? Being a puppet, falling unconscious is an occurrence that had never happened to him before.
With a groan, he shakes his head to clear that bizarre foggy sensation. Someone shouts again, and Scaramouche grumbles at the sound.
“Good morning, Lord Balladeer,” a patronizing voice filters in through the noise. “I see you’ve decided to rejoin us in the land of the living.”
“... five more minutes.” Scaramouche retorts, brown furrowing at how slurred his speech is. He raises his head to look at the Doctor, who loses patience at his sluggish movement and grabs the puppet’s chin roughly, turning his head this way and that. Scaramouche bears the humiliating inspection with a grimace.
“I see you haven't completely lost your faculties,” Dottore remarks, tongue clicking. “A shame, really, I could’ve done with more silent compliance from you.”
“What happened?” Scaramouche asks, eager to conclude whatever business the Doctor has with him.
“Why don’t you tell me?” Dottore frowns, dropping Scaramouche’s chin and letting the puppet’s head fall unceremoniously. Scaramouche fights to hide the wince at the jarring movement, and lifts his head of his own volition to look at the taller man. “I let you have your fun with the god-machine, and in return I hear you terrorized my technicians, damaged the interior of the cockpit, and passed out for several hours, completely unresponsive. Dead to the world, really. You’re lucky I like you so much, dear Balladeer, else I might’ve let you waste away in that tin can of yours and saved all of us the trouble of having to deal with you.”
Scaramouche snorts and spits a clot of red-purple blood on the floor at Dottore’s feet. “Good luck finding someone else who can withstand the raw power of the gnosis, then,” he sneers, meeting the Doctor’s eyes through his stupid mask. “Nobody else can do what I do, and you know it.”
Dottore’s frown deepens and his lips press into a tight line. “Be that as it may, it will do you no good to permanently damage yourself or the machine before it is time to officially launch.” Dottore straightens, and gestures to the gaggle of technicians. “Unhook him.”
“Wait- no!” Scaramouche thrashes and tries to push the prying hands away from him, but his body is still weak from his recent mishap. He can only let it happen as the tubes are disconnected from him, their absence starkly felt as each socket comes apart. When everything is disconnected, he is slowly lowered to a stretcher and laid out, his arms and legs shackled to prevent him from lashing out again.
The Doctor retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and leans over Scaramouche’s prone body, using the cloth to wipe his face in a mockery of gentleness. The white fabric is stained with the marbled blood.
“Looks like you need more practice before you are fully, how did you put it? Attuned to your god-machine.” Dottore smiles, all teeth. “My technicians have offered to bring you to your room, quite generous of them given the amount of repair work you’ve left for them to do on your behalf. You can behave yourself for a day or two, right?”
Scaramouche doesn’t answer, only gives a tight, forced smile as the technicians lift the stretcher and carry him away. The Doctor gives a few more orders as Scaramouche is carried away, but the sound quickly blurs from his mind.
He doesn’t quite register when the technicians drop him off at his room (and isn’t that concerning?) where he jolts to consciousness in his own bed, having been changed out of the clothes he’d been wearing for three days and into a fresh, simple black kimono. Dottore is sentimental that way, in a pitifully human way, and stocked Scaramouche’s rooms under the assumption that he holds some sort of attachment to the land of his creation.
Disgruntled, Scaramouche forces himself to sit up and take stock. His face and skin are clean, likely in thanks to whichever technician cleaned up his clothes. There is an unholy pounding in his head, and he wonders if his databank took damage from the connection with the Creator. Lastly, despite being disconnected from the Shouki no Kami, Scaramouche can still feel the liquid energy pulsing through his system.
He holds his hand out in front of him, flexing it and turning it over, as he reaches for that half-world again. It takes a few false starts, but that discoloured suspension in time answers him once again, tinting his vision in grey. An animalistic grin takes over his face as he reaches through time and space once more and reaches for You.
#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#sagau#genshin self aware au#genshin isekai#genshin scaramouche#sagau scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#sagau x reader#seabird.txt#Voice of God AU
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.Irminsul checkout -b <Realm Within>
You, the Creator, explore the possibilities the teapot realm has to offer and try to make accommodations for your surprising new roommates
[< prev] [Blog tag] [next >]
Notes: Genshin SAGAU, reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. all relationships are currently platonic!
WC. 3k
----- ⚘ -----
Meeting Tubby was just as entertaining as you’d hoped it would be. The flustered teapot spirit nearly dropped her porcelain hat when she saw you, offering to give you a personal tour of the realm mansion (as if you hadn’t designed the interior yourself), calling up Chubby (who was mortified to admit that he hadn’t brought any new stock today), and frantically rearranging furniture as your group roamed the mansion grounds despite your protests that everything was fine as it was. In the end, she settled for hosting you and your two companions over a pot of tea.
The Traveler remains silently amused as they watch you trying to behave politely while Tubby continuously refills your cup with fresh sunsettia tea. Beside them, Wanderer discreetly tosses the contents of his cup over his shoulder with a grimace.
Inevitably, between her stuttered rambling and your patient reassurances, Tubby notices the empty cup and refills it with more tea. Much to Wanderer’s displeasure.
“- and if you need anything to eat, a- any snacks or meals, I would be most honored to procure them for you, Your Grace!” Tubby continues, with you nodding along politely. It seems better to let her vent it out than to stop her, at this point.
“Tubby, would it be very troublesome to get a teapot realm for Their Grace?” the Traveler interjects, saving you from having to placate the bird adeptus once more. “It would be practical for them to have a place of residence while they stay in Teyvat.”
“O- of course!” Tubby nods so quickly you almost fear that her hat will fly off her head. “I can contact Streetwise Rambler posthaste! If you have any preference in shape or colour, Your Grace-”
“Anything you might have readily available is alright with me,” you reassure her. “As long as it has space to accommodate multiple guests, I don’t mind too much what the outside of it looks like.”
“T- that can be arranged!” the teapot spirit exclaims, topping up everyone’s cups before disappearing in a puff of smoke.
The three of you stare awkwardly at the space where Tubby used to be. Eventually, Wanderer gets up and disappears into the mansion, effectively trading places with Paimon as the little sprite returns from within after apparently having raided the Traveler’s pantry.
“Hey!” She exclaims through a mouthful of cookies. “Where did Tubby go? Did you guys drink all the tea?”
“She just went to get a teapot for Their Grace!” the Traveler explains, snatching a package of cookies from Paimon’s tiny hands, to the sprite’s protests. “She should be back soon. I can pour the tea for you, if you want.”
You sit back and enjoy the mindless chatter between the two, and sometime later Wanderer emerges from the mansion with several boxes stacked in his arms. The Traveler jumps up with a noise of surprise.
“Hey! What’s all that stuff?”
“I’m moving out.” Wanderer states, as though it’s obvious.
“Good riddance!” Paimon says, waving a biscuit at him threateningly. “It’s about time you moved out, young man! How are you supposed to learn about the human world if you’re cooped up in the Traveler’s realm all the time? Go outside and touch grass!”
“There’s grass in the realm, Paimon,” the Traveler points out.
“Argh! You know what I mean!”
“Of course, I’ll be moving in with the Creator, ” Wanderer continues as if Paimon hadn’t spoken at all. “Someone needs to keep the other two clowns in check so they don’t wreck the nice home Their Grace will surely build.”
“And that someone couldn’t be anyone else?” you ask, and immediately cringe when his piercing eyes turn toward you.
He huffs with amusement. “Nobody knows them better than me,” he shrugs and shakes his head. “Plus, who knows what my second incarnation will get up to? We don’t know how Irminsul resolved his appearance in this world, so he may yet be part of the Fatui, for all we know.”
“If he’s like you after the Joruri workshop fight, y’know, after you lost the gnosis and all? He’ll probably be weak and powerless,” Paimon says. “Just completely incapable of fighting in any meaningful way. Yes offense.”
“Offense taken.” Wanderer replies with the same tone, shooting a glare at the sprite over his shoulder. “I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of wiping the floor with you, with or without a gnosis.”
“You realize you’re bragging about your ability to beat up the physical equivalent of a two year old?” you interrupt before they could start arguing. They both send you equally scandalized looks, and Paimon splutters and mimes stomping as she tries to defend herself from the accusation of being a child.
“Guys, let’s all calm down for a second,” the Traveler sighs, rubbing their head just as Paimon launches herself at Wanderer and knocking over cups and the magic tea kettle, and Wanderer fends her off with one hand, balancing his stack of boxes with his other arm. He swings around to avoid her tiny fists, knocking over the table and chairs in the process as he dances out of her reach.
“Guys, seriously! Tubby will be back any minute now-”
Just as the words leave their mouth, the adeptus in question suddenly reappears with a lovely little porcelain teapot in her wing-hands. She takes in the scene, of you and the Traveler standing with your arms outstretched to restrain, and Paimon and Wanderer having a spat amidst the wreck of her tea set and furniture.
With a choked gasp, she promptly drops the new teapot.
----- ⚘ -----
After some profuse apologies on everyone’s part, Tubby repairs your new teapot and her furniture with her adeptus magic. She hands you the teapot with reverence, quickly running you through how the Realm Within works (even though you already know) and then ushering you out of the Traveler’s teapot excitedly.
“I hope you like it!” Tubby chirps, feathers fluffed with happiness. “Your teapot spirit is a good friend of mine, I’m sure he will take excellent care of your realm!”
You and Wanderer are ejected from the realm, finding yourselves standing in the glowing Irminsul chamber, outside the Traveler’s golden teapot with the stack of boxes and your porcelain teapot. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear Nahida speaking, likely addressing Scaramouche and Kabukimono.
“Okay! here goes nothing,” you exclaim, placing down the teapot reverently. You grab the realm dispatch that Tubby had given you, visually identical to the one you remember seeing in your game’s inventory but with a red and gold tassel. You hold the strip of wood in your palm and allow yourself to attune to the magic inside it.
Despite not feeling any different after a few moments, you hand over the dispatch to Wanderer, who attunes as well. Once the process is complete, the two of you place your palms against the sides of your teapot and allow yourselves to be warped to the new realm.
Immediately upon appearing in the realm, which you notice is modelled after the same landscape theme as the Traveler’s, a cheerful little basketball-sized grey and yellow teapot spirit floats up to you.
The spirit, looking very much like the little cockatiel-coloured finches from the overworld, greets you with a happy whistle. Where Tubby and Chubby are usually sitting in a fancy teapot-shaped vessel, this one is sitting in a small, but equally ornate, teacup.
“Hi! Hello! Are you my new master?” the tiny adeptus chitters, clapping his wing feathers together. “I’m your teapot spirit! I’m so happy to meet you!”
“Oh great, another one.” Wanderer snorts, then pushes past you and into the mansion with his boxes. You gently hold the teapot spirit to avoid him getting knocked back by the motion.
“Don’t mind him, he’s not very social,” you tell the finch, who looks up at you with adoration. “How about you tell me about yourself?”
The finch reluctantly extracts himself from your hands and floats in front of you, feathers twisting shyly.
“Th- this one doesn’t have many interesting things to tell,” he admits. “Not like Rain Calmer and Jade Seeker… This one hasn’t even been granted a small-name yet…”
“Oh…” you reach out and pat his head. “That’s okay, I can give you a nickname if you really want one.”
“Will you?” the finch gasps, and surely if beaks could smile…
“That can wait for a minute,” Wanderer calls from the mansion’s front door, leaning against the open door frame. “Can we get some furniture in here first? This place is emptier than Dottore’s soul.”
“Oh! Of course!” The teacup spirit hurriedly follows Wanderer into the mansion, with you trailing behind them at a slower pace.
As you walk through the mansion, a collection of Inazuman and Sumerian-style furniture begins popping up around you. You follow Wanderer as he moves from room to room, decorating the first one in purely Inazuman decor, the second with a blend of Inazuman and Shneznayan furniture, and the last with simple Sumerian amenities. Satisfied, Wanderer dumps all his boxes on the floor of the third room.
“Okay, great.” He nods at the nervous finch, then points at the door. “Now you guys, get out.”
You beat a hasty retreat with the teacup spirit in your hands, just barely making it out before Wanderer slams the door behind you. You peer down at the little finch, trying to smile in an encouraging way.
“How about we check out the other rooms while he settles in, shall we?” You offer, and the teacup spirit nods enthusiastically.
You deck out the remaining rooms with whatever nation’s theme inspires the teacup spirit’s artistic expression. For your own room, the last one you two decide to tackle, you choose a mix of all the nations’ furnishings. It creates a bit of an aesthetic mess, but it seems fitting to want a piece of each place.
You clap excitedly for the little finch, who blushes fiercely and coos under your attention.
“Aw, shucks,” he warbles. “I was just doing my job…”
“Nah, you did great, bud!” You reassure him, patting his fluffy head again. “Now, how about that nickname, huh?”
“Wow, really?”
“Sure thing! How about, hmm…”
You squint at the teacup spirit, thinking really hard about a potential nickname. You know Tubby and Chubby’s nicknames aren’t really related to their adepti names, but it still would seem helpful to have something to go off of…
“... Cup…” You mutter to yourself, eyeing his little teacup seat, and the finch spirit perks up at the sound.
“Hm?” The adeptus makes an adorable noise of confusion, head tilted to one side as it eagerly awaits your final decision.
“... Cuppy.” You finally say, more confidently. The newly named Cuppy vibrates with excitement. “Yeah, I kinda like that. Well, nice to meet you, Cuppy!”
“Wow! Thank you so much!!” Cuppy exclaims, crashing into you and doing his utmost to hug you with his stubby little wings. “I’ll cherish this name forever!”
“That has to be among the dumbest names I’ve ever heard, Your Grace,” Wanderer’s voice sounds behind you, and you turn around to stick your tongue out at him.
“W-wait, Your Grace?” Cuppy suddenly lets go of you with a gasp. “You’re the Creator?!”
Before you can say anything in reply, the poor teacup spirit promptly faints in your arms. You quickly make sure Cuppy is alright before giving Wanderer the most exaggerated frown you can muster.
“What? Don’t look at me like that,” he scoffs. “That's what you get for picking such a stupid name.”
“Says the guy who came up with ‘country destroyer’,” you retort.
“It sounded cool at the time!” Wanderer snaps, clearly embarrassed by his past self’s taste.
“Maybe for a ten year old.”
“Well of course it sounds dumb in Common, in Inazuman it’s a lot better.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
----- ⚘ -----
You and Wanderer exit the realm after Cuppy wakes up again, and you comfort the teacup spirit by telling him that you’re not mad at him and that he’d done nothing to displease you. Reassured, but only barely, Cuppy tearfully accepts your praise and promises not to let you down.
You resurface in the Irminsul chamber for a second time, to the hilarious scene of Nahida restraining both Scaramouche and Kabukimono within glowing green cubes a few feet above the ground. Scaramouche is beating against the transparent walls and furiously shouting, from what you can tell since the cubes appear to be soundproof. Kabukimono is sitting in the far corner of his cube, sulking with his arms crossed.
“- and that’s why it’s important to try and let go of any leftover resentment you harbor toward one another,” Nahida appears to be mid-lecture, wrapping up one of her points as she addresses the two puppets. “Otherwise you will fill up with anger and anxiety like a glass of water that is overflowing, and you will eventually release the surface tension and spill all your negative emotions and make a huge mess that everyone else will have to deal with. You may not realize this now, but the result of your quarrel will be very tiresome to those around you. If you spill water on a very important research paper, or a valuable book, or even a quick pencil drawing on a napkin, you will create irreparable harm to those you have affected, no matter how big or small the consequence appears to be.”
“The metaphor got away from you again, Buer.” Wanderer decides he’s heard enough and brings his hand down on the small god’s head, patting her. She looks up at him with a patient smile.
“Wanderer, Your Grace! Have you sorted out the living arrangements?” She asks cheerfully, releasing the Dendro cubes and allowing the puppets in time-out to drop to the floor in ungraceful heaps.
“We did!” You confirm with equal enthusiasm. “We even have a nice teapot adeptus named Cuppy who helped us out with the decorating and everything!”
“That’s wonderful!” Nahida nods and gestures to Scaramouche and Kabukimono to approach, which they do with some measure of caution. Especially on the Balladeer’s part. He eyes Nahida with newfound suspicion, making sure she doesn’t perform any more Dendro abilities on him.
“Are we going to teleport into your new house?” Kabukimono asks, eyeing the porcelain teapot with intrigue. “The same way you and the Traveler teleported earlier?”
“That’s right, you just need to hold this piece of wood for a minute so that the realm magic recognizes and authorizes you as a guest,” you tell him, holding out the dispatch. Kabukimono takes it delicately, staring at the dispatch with wide eyes even though nothing obvious happens.
After his minute is up, Scaramouche snatches the dispatch out of Kabukimono’s hands and grumbles in annoyance as he looks anywhere but at you guys, allowing the magic to attune to him as well.
Once everyone is ready, you bid Nahida a quick goodbye and show the two puppets how to use the teapot to teleport. As you feel yourself warp in, you watch their expressions.
Wanderer is the most composed, having grown used to teleporting thanks to the Traveler, while Kabukimono seems a little dizzy but not overly bothered. Scaramouche, on the other hand, looks positively nauseous, much to your amusement.
The four of you land in varying degrees of balance on your feet, with Cuppy stuttering out a greeting and ushering you all into the mansion.
Kabukimono is most pleased with his room, plopping down onto the floor mat with a wide grin. An array of tools lines one of the walls, and the adjacent wall opens to a sheltered view of the outside and a small forge. You turn to look at Wanderer as an awestruck Kabukimono takes in his accommodations.
“... What?” Wanderer scowls when he notices your look. “I just know what he’d like, okay? Don’t think too hard about it.”
Scaramouche’s room is next, and he walks in a few paces, has a look around at the very specific combination of aesthetics, and then kicks the door shut in your face. You’re not sure what else you expected from him.
Wanderer’s room is last, and though you already saw it as he was having it customized, you have a quick peek into it.
The Sumeran decor, though relatively plain, is used to great effectiveness. A desk takes up half of the far wall, accompanied by a mostly empty bookshelf and a tall lamp. A few boxes are pushed against the bookcase, unopened so far but you can guess what the contents will be. On the other side is Wanderer’s dresser and bed, and while you know he doesn’t necessarily need to sleep it’s nice to know that he included a bit of comfort for himself anyway.
“Okay, see ya,” Wanderer says, but you interrupt him with a gentle tug on his sleeve. He looks at you with annoyance and mild confusion.
“Thanks for helping me with the decorating,” you half-whisper, a grin spreading across your face. “Who knew you had such good interior design taste?”
“Whatever,” Wanderer huffs and looks at the floor. “It’s just because I knew you would make a mess of it like you did in the Traveler’s teapot.”
“What? No I didn’t. My decorating was just fine!”
Wanderer rolls his eyes at you. “You have a room filled to the brim with random unrelated junk.”
“That’s my storage room,” you state matter-of-factly. “I needed to reach a certain level of adeptal energy to get the maximum currency reward.”
“You say that as if I know what you’re talking about.” Wanderer deadpans and crosses his arms. “It’s still just a room of junk to me.”
“Fine! I see how it is.” You throw your hands up in amused outrage and stomp out of the room. “I guess decorating is your problem from now on, since you’re so good at it or whatever.”
Wanderer nods with a satisfied smirk. “As it should be,” he says before pushing his door closed.
#genshin sagau#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin self aware au#genshin isekai#genshin scaramouche#sagau scaramouche#genshin wanderer#sagau wanderer#genshin kabukimono#sagau kabukimono#sagau x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#kabukimono x reader#seabird.txt#glitch in irminsul AU
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It's been a while since I made a request to a blog, but I really enjoy your writing, and your AUs got my brain going with ideas (especially the Glitch AU). It has me thinking about how our favorite little Puppet boys would react to some of the... interesting hobbies I have: two of those being things like Doll making/repainting, and cosplaying/ general fantastical costuming.
I feel like both of these hobbies have the potential to lead to both hilarious situations and moments of being a bit... perturbed at best (especially doll making: the random assortment of doll limbs being places, or having naked dolls that are precariously hung from the ceiling to finish drying from paint jobs).
I do know that at least Kabukimono and Wanderer (Scara might have forgotten since he hadn't used the skill in a long time, and Wanderer likely relearned it) know how to sew, so the sewing part could be cute bonding time.
Could be platonic or romantic in nature: both would be fine. And also, fully understand it will probably take you time to get to this, of you even get to it at all. I just appreciate you taking the time to read this request~! Can't wait for your next bits of work: hope you have a wonderful day~!!! 💕💕💕💕
hey!! thanks so much for your request!! this was a funny idea bc i can't imagine any of scara's iterations being any good at collaboration but for all separate reasons lmao
I'm not too knowledgeable about doll making but hopefully you like this anyway :D i wrote it as a bit of a glitch!AU spinoff in my mind, but feel free to imagine any other scenarios these three clowns might come together for hahaha
WC. 1.3k
----- ⚘ -----
When the three puppets were told not to enter your room and disturb your hobby workstation, this isn’t what they had in mind. Wanderer thought maybe you did something embarrassing as a hobby, Scaramouche thought it might be something potentially dangerous especially if you intended to keep it a secret from them, while Kabukimono was certain that you did some sort of artistic craft that you preferred to keep hidden until the end product was finished.
All three of them were right, in some way or another.
The three of them stand in your workshop, staring in horror at the dozens of separated doll components you’d strung up around the edges of the room. Scraps of tiny, doll-sized outfits were scattered around your desk, and a half-painted doll head was mounted on some sort of device in the middle of the chaos. The doll’s single painted eye watches their trespassing with silent judgment.
You’re glad you find them out so soon, and you have exactly three seconds to stop them from touching anything in the workshop.
“WhatareyouguysDOINGinhere?!” Nailed it.
Kabukimono leaps a vertical foot into the air out of fright at your sudden and shrill outburst, while the other two react in more subdued manners before turning around to face you, standing in the doorway behind them. Your arms are outstretched, palms forward, and you’re braced as though you’re anticipating some sort of impact.
“Don’t. Touch. Anything.” You warn. “Not all of these are dry, and if you smudge anything I’ll have to restart them.”
“Why do you have a bunch of dismembered doll corpses?” Scaramouche asks, jerking his thumb at the precariously hanging doll components.
“A seller in Inazuma asked me if I could help him finish a few dolls, since I told him I used to do it as a hobby back in my world.” You explain, not dropping your guarded position. “If any of you want to eat dinner this week, I suggest you step away from the dolls. Slowly.”
“Can you not call them that?” Kabukimono complains to Scara as the trio carefully shuffle out of your workshop. “They’re not corpses, they just haven’t been put together yet.”
“Well, they aren’t alive either, so what’s your point?”
“If you need some help completing them, I can pitch in.” The three of you look wide-eyed at Wanderer, who seems to immediately regret making the offer. He shrugs and looks away quickly. “Or not. Whatever.”
“I’d love some help,” you start hesitantly. “But what did you want to help with?”
“I can sew the clothes, I guess.”
Scaramouche’s nose wrinkles at this statement. “You can sew?”
“Why is that so surprising?” Wanderer counters, reaching into the inner lining of his haori and showing off a small, familiar cloth doll. Instantly, Kabukimono is patting himself down with a frantic expression, before pointing at Wanderer accusingly.
“Where did you get that?! I lost it a long time ago!”
“Heh, of course you did.” Wanderer smirks. “I made mine. What, are you telling me you never thought of making yourself a new one?”
“I was never good at doing the small stitches…” Kabukimono pouts, crossing his arms and eyeing the doll jealously.
“That aside,” Wanderer continues, turning to you. “I can help you finish the clothes for your project dolls. The faster you can finish them, the faster you can retrieve the commission for them, right?”
“That’s true, I guess,” you acquiesce, already running the math in your head. If you could get the commission for the dolls early, you might not have to budget as hard this week.
“I wanna help too!” Kabukimono declares, raising his hand (a bit redundantly, given he’s standing right next to you).
“Whatever,” Scaramouche snorts and waves dismissively as he begins to walk away. “If that’s what you nerds want to waste your time on, be my guest. As long as you don’t make it my problem, I don’t care what you do in your free time.”
“Party pooper,” you say, sticking out your tongue at his retreating back. “Well, what do you say, guys? Let’s get this bread?”
“Sure,” Wanderer nods, heading back into the workshop.
“What does bread have to do with dollmaking?” Kabukimono asks, even as he’s herded into the room by you.
“I’ll explain later, let’s finish up these bad boys first,” you promise, and the workshop door closes behind you.
----- ⚘ -----
“I made another sword!” Kabukimono declares, hurrying over to your workbench and showing off the tiny doll-sized sword he’d made. The fifth one, so far.
“That’s great, buddy!” You give him a pat, to his delight. “I think we’re okay on swords for now, though, d’you wanna try making something else this time?”
“Okay!”
Wanderer looks up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, a few pins sticking out of his mouth as he uses them to hold his patterns in place.
“Did your toymaker guy say what kinds of dolls he wanted?” He asks, holding up another utilitarian-looking outfit. “I can’t imagine this is what he had in mind when he asked for your help.”
“I mean, these are kind of edging into action figure territory,” you shrug. “But that’s probably fine. There’s a market out there for everything, nowadays.”
“Make a kimono that looks like the Shogun,” Kabukimono suggests, handing Wanderer some purple fabric. “Everybody likes the Shogun, right? She should be pretty popular.”
You and Wanderer both wince (for different reasons) at Kabukimono’s well-meant statement. However, Wanderer does take the purple fabric and sets it gently aside, and you wonder if he’ll take the suggestion after all.
“Are you losers done in here? I’m tired of doing the dishes for two days straight,” Scaramouche kicks the door in, uncaring of the delicate work you three are doing. Thankfully, the risky parts are all done, so nothing suffers any damage with his sudden entrance. Scara drops three bowls onto your workbench, each piled with fried rice and vegetables.
“Ha, you’d make a great housewife,” Wanderer snickers, earning himself a smack on the back of his head. “Ow.”
“Thank you!” Kabukimono takes his bowl and brings it to where he’s working on something, hopefully not another sword.
“Thanks,” you say as well, giving Scara a genuine smile. The puppet scowls and leaves as quickly as he’d come in.
“Don’t bother! It doesn’t benefit anyone if you drop dead from starvation, you know?” he sneers over his shoulder as he slams the door shut.
There’s silence as you three eat the lunch that was generously provided, stacking the bowls and putting them beside the door for when you guys go for your next break.
“I think I’m done after I finish this last outfit,” Wanderer sighs, holding up the unfinished garment. It looks hilarious in his hands, a cheerful pink and purple kimono in stark contrast to his deadpan expression.
“I’m almost done too!” Kabukimono adds, holding up his latest project: a doll-sized armor set. You smile gratefully at the both of them, even as you rub your temples with a sigh.
“Okay, great, I’ll put these together and bring them to the toymaker later this afternoon, then!” You say, hoping you sound enthusiastic about it. You think about the mismatched collection of outfits and sword accessories, wondering how you were going to sell this to your temporary employer.
----- ⚘ -----
As it turns out, if there’s one thing Inazumans like, it’s swordsmen. The toymaker looks in awe at your half dozen tiny samurai, handing you a pouch of mora with a pleased word of thanks.
As you’re headed back home, you get a telepathic message from Wanderer.
KABUKIMONO WANTS TO KNOW WHEN WE’RE GETTING MORE DOLLS.
‘He fired me, we’ll have to do something else,’ you think back, hoping you don’t sound too guilty in your head.
As much as you love these guys, you aren’t sure you could take another two days straight of having to collab with them. Hopefully buying some treats on the way home will placate them.
—– ⚘ —–
^ reader trying to juggle all three scara iterations without breaking any of the dolls LMAO
#genshin sagau#genshin self aware au#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin isekai#genshin scaramouche#sagau scaramouche#genshin wanderer#sagau wanderer#genshin kabukimono#sagau kabukimono#sagau x reader#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#kabukimono x reader#seabird.txt#seabird.inbox#littlemistermedley
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Vocem Dei
The Shouki no Kami was built to be the closest thing to an artificial god that humanity could create.
Just how close to divinity does the god-machine get?
[p1 - you are here!] [p2] [p3]
Notes: Genshin SAGAU, cult AU, vaguely religious themes. pre-3.2!
WC. 1.5k
----- ⚘ -----
The Shouki no Kami was built to be the closest thing to an artificial god that humanity could create.
Infused with dozens of Divine Knowledge capsules, and powered by liquid energy inspired by the Lord Balladeer’s own divine puppet blood, the machine god had capabilities beyond even Dottore’s own comprehension.
And the good Doctor was oh so eager to find out what would happen if a person were to be plugged into the mainframe.
Nevermind that every scholar who’d tried to use Divine Knowledge capsules lost their minds in the process.
Scaramouche grunts softly with every tube that locks into its socket on his back, the sensation of the machine’s lifeblood beginning to flow through him causing his body’s equivalent of a brain, his databank, to spark painfully. He pushes through it, determined to grasp divinity with both of his unworthy hands even if it’s the last thing he does.
The moment he feels the last tube socket in, an all-encompassing buzzing sensation floods his body, causing him to jolt and spasm uncontrollably. He snarls and grits his teeth, distantly hearing Dottore rattle off some statistics.
The feeling is reminiscent of his birth, when he knew the embrace of the electro gnosis, but amplified by hundreds.
An inhuman scream leaves him, electro bolts coursing across his body and the machine’s as he bows backward, curved over the shimmering tubes and feeling their hotcoldsmoothsharp liquid pulsing through him. He opens his eyes, not aware of when he’d closed them.
Above him, reflected in the ceiling Shouki no Kami’s metal cockpit, Scaramouche can see his own eyes glow so brightly with electro energy that his pupils become white. Purple sparks emit from the corners of his eyes, like tears of pure energy that tumble down the sides of his face contorted in rage and agony. In his mouth, parted in a scream that’s now beyond human hearing, small bolts of lighting sew his teeth together.
Through sheer force of his own will, the face of Shouki no Kami’s cockpit begins to slide closed, just as he hears Dottore announce 100% compatibility.
As the face plates slam shut, the overwhelming sensation of raw power suddenly cuts out and Scaramouche slumps over, held up only by his connection to the tubes in his back. His face nearly collided with the doors in front of him but he stops his descent with his hands, and the sockets in his back pull ominously.
The blessed silence lasts for exactly a minute before being replaced by a strange mechanical sound, almost like a bell ringing.
He lifts his head weakly, turning from side to side to find the source, until he realizes it’s coming from inside his head.
“Wh-” he begins, but is cut off as a clicking noise interrupts him, replacing the ringing with a cordial-sounding voice.
“Hello, who’s speaking?”
“H- hey! Who the hell are you?! I demand to know how you’re speaking to me right now!”
There’s silence for a moment before the voice responds.
“Uh, well, you called me, dude. And I asked first.”
A million thoughts run through Scaramouche’s head as he braces his hands against the face plates of the cockpit, pushing himself back upright with a noise of frustration.
“Do you even know who I am? When I find out who you are I will put an end to your insignificant insect life- wait, what do you mean I called you?”
“... You… You called me, and I answered…” The voice says hesitantly, a tone of amusement filtering into their words. “That’s how calling usually works, right?”
Scaramouche rubs his temples, shaking his head. “I… called you? I don't even know who you are. How did you get in my head?”
“... in your- you know what? This is weird, dude. I’m gonna hang up now.”
“Wait!” Scaramouche blurts out before he can even realize he’s done it. “Don’t… don’t go! At least tell me who you are?”
The silence is deafening, and for a moment Scaramouche is sure he’s been left alone, and then the voice returns…
… Saying the name of Teyvat’s overarching deity. Greater than the Archons. Greater than Celestia. Greater than even the Traveller, who originated from beyond this world.
Incredulous, Scaramouche repeats after you, following up with: “Is- is that right? That’s your name?”
“... Yes? Should it not be?”
Scaramouche lets out a peal of elated laughter, the tubes in his back rattling with the movement. Unbelievable. He did it! He attained godhood beyond even the power of the Archons; he made direct contact with the Divine Creator themself!
“Your Grace! I can’t believe it. It’s me! It’s Scaramouche, the Balladeer, Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui! I can’t even begin to fathom that you deigned answer to my call!”
“Scaramouche? Like from the game?” the voice asks. “Is this some kind of prank?”
“Wait, no, please! No, I swear this isn’t a joke, please believe me! I’ve worked so hard to get to this point, I deserve your recognition!” A hint of desperation bleeds into his voice, and his fists clench where they’re pressed into the walls of the Shouki no Kami’s cockpit. A second passes with no response and a pathetic cry escapes his lips. “Please… not you, too…”
His shoulders and the tubes shake with the force of his muffled sobs, air he doesn’t truly need catching in his throat. He lets his head fall forward, colliding with the metal panels with a dull noise.
“Listen, I’m not sure I believe you,” the voice returns. “But you sound really bad, man. Please don’t cry or anything, okay? I’m kinda in the middle of something right now but I’ll call you back in a bit. If this is some kind of RP thing or whatever, I swear…”
Scaramouche feels it, the second communication is cut. It leaves a void in his skull, right behind his ears, and the silence that once filled the cockpit is replaced with the mechanical whir of the Shouki no Kami, and the metallic sound of hammering.
He swallows and rubs his eyes roughly, scrubbing any trace of tears and briefly thanking the powers that be for having made him a puppet, to exist without the embarrassing functions of blushing or having bloodshot eyes.
He grumbles and looks down at the heel of his palms, noticing that he’d wiped some blood as well. He checks his nose, finding it to be the source, and messily wipes it clean before willing the cockpit’s face plates to open.
Outside, a frantic team of Fatui engineers cheer and hastily pull the doors open, and Dottore pokes his head into the space, seemingly both relieved and intrigued at Scaramouche’s state.
“Well well, my little friend,” Dottore drawls, a shark-like smile spreading across his face. “The god machine, as well as you, has been unresponsive for just under twenty-four hours. We’d nearly feared that we lost you.”
Scaramouche glares at him with a sneer. “You seem so terribly broken up about it. I’m touched by your show of concern."
Dottore doesn’t reply, only acquiescing with a hum. Around him, the engineers are taking stock of the robot’s state and functions, jotting down notes and observing the puddle of Scaramouche’s blood, the evidence of which is still drying on his face.
“Tell me, was the synchronization a success?” the Doctor finally asks, barely holding back a flinch when Scaramouche’s head flies up to face him with a feral grin.
“More than a success,” he raves, his hand coming up to touch the side of his head. “With just a bit more practice, I will ascend higher than even Celestia itself!”
Dottore hides his uncertainty well, but Scaramouche’s eyes are sharper than they were before, and his grin widens at the sight of the Doctor’s expression.
“Very well, let us conclude the test now, then.” Dottore announces, motioning for the technicians around him to disconnect Scaramouche from the machine.
“No.” Scaramouche says, maintaining eye contact with Dottore and remaining stock still as he sends a pulse of electro running down his body, giving a violent shock to any of the technicians who’d been unfortunately too close.
“... No?” Dottore asks with a stiff smile.
“I want to stay connected with the machine,” Scaramouche declares. “Isn’t this the goal? Shouldn’t I spend as much time attuning to the divine energy, so that I may become the perfect god? This is what you designed it for, after all, right?"
Dottore remains silent, with that same plastic smile on his face.
“Very well,” he says curtly. “The Lord Balladeer may remain inside the god-machine. Resume monitoring and record signs of changes.”
The Doctor turns on his heel and steps lightly out of the room before Scaramouche could annoy him further. That suits Scaramouche just fine, as well. He settles back into the cockpit, willing the face plates closed until he’s in solitude once more. He stares at the small puddle of his own blood on the floor; his normal reddish oil-blood mixing with vibrant, glowing purple.
He leans back into the mess of tubes, and smirks.
He’ll eagerly await your next contact.
#genshin sagau#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin self aware au#genshin isekai#sagau cult au#genshin scaramouche#sagau scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#sagau x reader#seabird.txt#aka shouki no kami is a giant god walkietalkie au#Voice of God AU
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Hello! Just recently found your blog, and I am in love with your fanfic, Glitch In Irminsul!
I honestly have no idea if I'm the first one to request on your blog, but I do hope this idea is okay with you!
May I request this: Reader who is a comedian with Cyno, Tighnari and Collei, reacting to Reader making Cyno's bad jokes (quote on quote) "better"? You don't have to find a joke for Reader if you don't wanna :)
I'm a little obsessed with their dynamic as of right now. If you do happen to take this request, thanks :D
Also idk if you wanna take Anons, but if you do someday, is it alright if I claim "🎪 Anon" as my alias? Sorry if I'm asking too much! I hope you have a great day :)
hi!! thanks so much for your request, and your patience!! 🩵 i had a good bit of fun writing this for you, i love bad jokes 🤭
WC. 1092
----- ⚘ -----
As the General Mahamatra, and having been personally assigned to your guard by Lesser Lord Kusanali herself, it is Cyno’s sworn duty to attend to every need and whim of the almighty Creator.
And when the Creator demands that you tell them your absolute worst joke, the one that nobody has ever even laughed at yet, well, who is he to deny them?
“- didn’t realize that, at that very moment, a Hydro slime was praying to meet a lone, stranded traveler.” Cyno finishes the joke with a straight face, at the exact same moment that the door to the hut swings open, revealing Tighnari and Collei with several bags of groceries in their arms.
“Oh, Cyno, not the slime joke again.” Tighnari groans over the sound of your absolutely raucous laughter at the horrible joke.
“But the Creator likes it.” Cyno protests, gesturing to you hanging part way off the table and clutching your stomach. You honestly don’t find the joke itself all that funny, but the sheer confidence with which he tells it paired with the completely deadpan expression he has is sending you into hysterics.
“They’re going to eat each other!” You gasp, trying to sit back properly on the chair. A few lingering giggles hit you when you see Tighnari’s deeply disappointed expression. “Hahaha… but slimes don’t have a mouth, do they? How would it eat the person?”
“Exactly!” Tighnari says, pointing at Cyno with the hand not holding the groceries. “It doesn’t make any sense! Slimes wouldn’t-”
“And what did the stranded traveler say in that situation?” You add, confusing both Tighnari and Cyno into silence. Cyno blinks a few times, visibly wondering if there was a part of the joke that he forgot to tell, and he’s about to ask for clarification when Collei beats him to the punch.
“Your Grace, the traveler didn’t say anythi-” Collie begins, but you’re already on a roll.
“He said, ‘it must be slime for dinner!’”
You can’t help but erupt into laughter again at seeing everyone’s reactions: Collei’s slow realization, Cyno perking up excitedly, and Tighnari imploding with exasperation.
“You see, because ‘slime’ sounds like ‘time’-”
“Yes, Cyno. Thanks. I got the gist.”
You’re still gasping for air, leaning back in the chair and bracing yourself on the wall behind you. Tighnari’s frown falters a little, your joy infectious even if the joke is terrible.
“Slime for dinner, and sand for dessert!” You add, and Cyno chuckles even as he brings out his wretched book of jokes and begins writing an annotation in the margins, which Tighnari is sure the librarian will greatly appreciate later. “Get it? ‘Cause dessert, and desert?”
Tighnari is about to snarkily reply, when a surprising sound catches his attention. He turns with a horrified expression to Collei, who has her hand over her mouth and eyes wide in disbelief.
“Oh no, Collei…” Tighnari says warningly, shaking his head, which causes the girl to snort again and she quickly puts down her groceries before she can drop them.
“I- I’m sorry, Master,” she fights through her giggles, which only spurs you and Cyno on. “It’s just… it’s so bad…”
“Come on, ‘Nari, it’s just a joke,” Cyno attempts to bring the Valuka Shuna in on the fun. “Think of it as a way to break the ice.”
“Yeah, Tighnari,” you add. “Snow fun otherwise.”
Collei lets out a full belly laugh, to Tighnari’s dismay and Cyno’s apparent confusion.
“You’ve never laughed at my jokes like that,” the general points out, and Collei can only laugh harder.
“We’re morally obligated to laugh at the Creator’s jokes, ‘lest Their Grace smite us with impunity.” Tighnari states tonelessly, completely opposing his own statement.
That’s about as much as you can take. You slide bonelessly off the chair, howling with laughter on the floor like some kind of hyena.
“Look what you did! You corrupted the Creator!”
“The Creator told that joke all on their own!”
While Cyno and Tighnari are bickering, Collei helps you off of the floor, steadying you in your chair as you both come down from your laughing. She checks you over to make sure you didn’t injure yourself on your way down, then grabs her bag and rummages through it before producing a shiny red apple.
“We brought snacks!” she announces, handing you the fruit proudly. “And we have the stuff for dinner tonight! We picked these fresh, though. They’re very sweet this season!”
You take the apple with a grin and rub it on your shirt to clean it before taking a bite.
“Wow, these really are sweet! Thanks, Collei!” You marvel at how good the apple tastes, somehow different from Earth’s apples, with a refreshing, sugary taste.
“You’re very welcome!” Collei beams at the praise. “I’m gonna go get Master Tighnari to stop griping and help me with dinner, now, though.”
You perk up at the mention of cooking. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Oh, gosh, no! You’re our guest, please let us take care of it!” Collei insists, then scurries over to the other two.
You decide to follow her just as she’s asking Tighnari for help with cooking. The botanist huffs with mild annoyance, his tail sweeping from side to side.
“I’m not sure Cyno needs dinner, Collei,” he states. “Since he wants to act childish, perhaps it would be best to put him in time-out for the evening.”
“That’s not very knife of you, Tighnari,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Why don’t you fork-give him for now so we can have dinner together?”
Tighnari squints at you, somehow sensing you’ve made a pun (or two) despite your straight delivery.
“... Are you going to stop with the jokes too, Your Grace?” he asks, his ear flicking.
“What jokes? Collei wanted to ask for your help with the cooking. How can you say no to dish face?” You sidle up behind Collei and use your pointer fingers to make her smile, which she tolerates with surprising grace. “Isn’t she adora-bowl?”
“...” Tighnari maintains his stance for a few more seconds, and then sighs in defeat. “I don’t have a counter to that. Very well, I suppose I can let it slide for tonight, since it’s for you, Your Grace…”
“Hehehe, counter,” you mumble, which causes Collei to erupt into giggles once more, and Cyno to look extremely pleased with your ability.
And Tighnari to make a noise of exasperation, throwing his hands up and stomping toward the kitchen on his own.
“That’s it! I’ve had enough! I’m leaving!”
#genshin sagau#sagau#genshin impact#genshin isekai#self aware genshin#genshin cyno#genshin tighnari#genshin collei#sagau cyno#sagau tighnari#sagau collei#sagau x reader#seabird.inbox#seabird.txt#🎪 anon
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Hey, back at it with a request. I wanted to dump you with requests, but I also know that it takes you a bit to write, and I didn't want to overwhelm you ^^"""
Honestly though, with the requests I have in mind, I have a feeling they're going to become a spinoff series called "In which the Puppets learn the Creator is really, really bizarre."
With that said, this request will consist of some habits I have, and how our puppet boys would react to them! That being: reader is a night owl magpie who likes to collect a number of things. Whatever sparks their fancy, they hoard (It's why the Traveller has such a hoarding problem in the first place).
They collect some semi-formal things, like flowers and different plants, and like shiny rocks (Reader is familiar with the Language of Flowers, and I can fully see them and Kabukimono spending hours going over them. With Scara, Reader finds a piece of Rose Quartz in the shape of a heart and gives it to him, saying "You said you wanted a heart, right? Here you go! I know it isn't a real heart, but that's okay: because you already have a real one!")
But then they have the weird stuff they collect, like bones -and teeth -and scales - and bugs (Scara or Wanderer: "Why do you have this?" Reader, holding up the carcass of a beetle: "I just think they're neat!")
Or the worse part: literal trash. I'm talking broken pieces of glass and random metal parts, and like old candy wrappers that they've been keeping. (Again: Scara or Wanderer: "Get rid of this." Reader: "But it has sentimental value-!!!" S or W: "IT IS LITERALLY TRASH!!!")
But yes. Reader is a hoarder of many things.
i love this LOL i also hoard some pretty random things so like 🤝
(Might not have touched on all the same points as your ask bc i tried to keep it in-universe, but i tried to hit the major themes of each!)
WC. 1.5k
----- ⚘ -----
Flowers and Gems: Kabukimono
This collection is one of your gentler ones, and you take care to replenish it often with new blooms and interesting stones you pick up along your way. There is so much more novelty to collect here than back on earth, after all!
Kabukimono is fascinated by the variety of it, begging to be taken along with you the next time you venture out into the world to add more to your stash, and maybe take inspiration to start a collection of his own! It takes a bit of convincing, but you eventually relent and allow him to accompany you.
He follows you with wide eyes and an awed grin, asking you all about the various plants that the pair of you come across. You try to remember them as best as you can, reciting what you remember from the ingame tooltips.
“Wow! What’s this one?” Kabukimono asks, bounding up to a reddish pink bush. He delicately plucks one of the flowers, showing it to you proudly.
“That’s a silk flower!” You tell him, smiling as you take the flower from his hand. He only smiles and picks himself another one. “The people in Liyue can process them and make them into a very fine fabric!”
Kabukimono nods in understanding. “That makes sense! I know lots of kimono makers back home often talk about the quality of fabric from Liyue.”
“Fun fact,” you add, “back in my world, silk is such a sturdy material that it can resist piercing damage, to a certain extent! But it is very weak to slashing, or cutting damage.”
“That’s so interesting!” Kabukimono’s eyes go wider at the information. “I wonder if that's true of the silk from this world, too!”
“We probably shouldn’t, y’know… test it or anything,” you interrupt him before he lets his curiosity get the better of him. “We can probably ask a seamstress about it later.”
“Ohhh, good thinking.” Kabukimono agrees. He pockets his flower and looks around the area, scouting for the next object to collect. “Hey, do you have an electro crystal, yet? I heard you can only mine them using pyro!”
You let Kabukimono lead you to your next destination, already planning to press the new flower for your collection. Distantly, you wonder how the two of you are going to get an electro crystal, considering neither of you have pyro visions.
----- ⚘ -----
Beetles and Bones: Wanderer
“I went back to Springvale to ask if those hunters still had some of those ancient boar bones,” is what you say, offering a sheepish grin to Wanderer, who stares down at you with his arms crossed. In all honesty, you probably deserve the scrutiny for having somehow escaped his supervision for several hours.
“Did you at least get the, uh,,” Wanderer gestures at the cloth bag you’re holding in your arms. “Special bones you were looking for?”
“Yeah!” You exclaim, shaking the bag excitedly. It makes a rattling noise as you move. “Do you want to see them?”
You don’t wait to hear the answer, instead leading the way to your room, where part of your collection resides. You hear Wanderer step in and close the door behind you, waiting in curious silence as you carefully put your bag on your bed, pulling open the drawstring with reverence.
One by one, you bring out the intact bones the hunters were able to unearth from you. You brush off some of the remaining dust, then you begin laying them out on your bed in their approximate positions.
“That’s your special ancient boar?” Wanderer asks, sidling up to you and looking at the bones with you.
“Yes!” You finally place the jawless skull at the top of the unfinished skeleton, putting your hands on your hips with satisfaction. “I found it during a quest when I was still guiding the Traveler. I knew I had to have it in my collection when I got here!”
“Fair enough,” Wanderer nods. “Can I see the rest of your stuff?”
You are more than eager to show off the cool stuff you’ve been hoarding since your arrival in Teyvat, from smaller animal bones, to surprisingly intact shed lizard skins and molted duskbird feathers, and even some hollow onikabuto shells.
Wanderer picks up each one with care, mindful of your enthusiasm for your strange collection. He turns each object over slowly, inspecting them as you’re explaining the particularities of your collection.
“Hey, do you mind if I borrow some of these?” Wanderer eventually asks, as you’re nearing the end of your impromptu lecture. “I’ve got this Amurta elective that I haven’t started my project for, and some of these are interesting enough. I could probably write something about them.”
Your sudden silence is worrying, and he’s quick to backpedal in case he’d offended you in some way.
“Or, forget it, I mean-” he turns and pretends to scratch his nose to hide the dumb expression he knows he must be making. “I know this is all probably hard to get, so if you don’t want to risk it getting broken or stolen…”
“I would love to share it with you!!” Your sudden shout scares him out of his foul mood, and he looks at you in bemusement. Your eyes are wide and shiny, matching the stupid grin that settles on your face. Just as he’s about to reply, you leap up and scramble for one of the unopened drawers.
You proudly present a wooden box, and when you open it Wanderer can see the interior is padded and separated with thin wooden strips, creating protected compartments just big enough to fit some of the larger items in your collection.
“You’ve got to take extra good care of this stuff, okay?” You instruct him, and you help him pack the items he’d chosen into your carrying case. “I mean, I can probably find some of this stuff again, but the more delicate things are harder to come by. Promise you’ll be careful?”
He looks up at you, closing the lid of the box slowly and fastening it shut. “Yeah, I promise,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
----- ⚘ -----
Literal Garbage: Scaramouche
“You’re throwing this shit out, right?”
The noise you make, of absolute disgust and denial, is enough to make Scaramouche second guess his own words for a moment. He recovers faster than you’d give him credit for, picking up the broken clay jar and the dull shard of a broken sword. He holds up both in front of you, an accusing glare pinning you.
“Does this look like normal stuff to collect, to you?” he demands, tossing both back into the bin where he’d found them, retrieving a foil candy wrapper and a graphite pencil with no nib. Again, he discards both items with a noise of exasperation. “None of this stuff has any use! It’s all just garbage! Where do you even find this?!”
“Like,” you say, shuffling closer to your collection bin and putting the cover back on it slowly. “On the ground and stuff? I don’t know what you’re expecting.”
Scaramouche pinches the bridge of his nose with a loud sigh, but doesn’t make any move to reopen the bin. “You’re seriously testing my patience, here. Why are you collecting all this garbage? Can’t you collect something less… bizarre? Like seashells, or something.”
“I have some of those, too!”
“Not the point, here!”
You look down where your hands are pressing down on the lid of the bin, then back up at Scaramouche with a bit of a pout.
“Are you really making me throw it all out?” You ask, pitifully. He takes one look at you and grumbles with displeasure.
“That’s not what I said,” he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks down his nose at you. “You want to waste your time picking up other people’s trash and pretending it has meaning to you? Fine, be my guest. But don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re stuck with a container full of useless junk that nobody wanted anymore.”
“Sometimes, even the things that people feel have no practical use can be worth a lot to someone else,” you tell him. “Things don’t have to be worth anything to be wanted.”
Scaramouche chews on your words for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure, whatever you say, I guess.”
He doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so you tentatively open the bin and reach inside, fishing around until your fingertips grasp what you’re looking for.
“Are you sure you don’t recognize this one?” You ask, holding up the candy wrapper so he can see it. He scrunches up his nose at the offending item.
“Am I supposed to?”
“It’s from that festival in Inazuma,” you smile, bringing the wrapper to yourself gently. “The one you guys took me to when you found out I hadn’t been to one before.”
Scaramouche looks at it closer, out of the corner of his eye. He lets his shoulders slump and shakes his head with a huff.
“Whatever,” he says. “The rest of it is garbage, though.”
You put the wrapper away with a cheeky grin.
#genshin sagau#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin isekai#genshin self aware au#genshin scaramouche#sagau scaramouche#genshin wanderer#sagau wanderer#genshin kabukimono#sagau kabukimono#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#kabukimono x reader#genshin x reader#sagau x reader#seabird.inbox#seabird.txt#littlemistermedley
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Wish Upon
Wanderer takes a chance at catching a fallen star and earning himself a blessing from Celestia. It may be his only true chance at obtaining a heart.
Notes: Stardust AU! no use of 'y/n'. only very vaguely related to actual Stardust, this will veer off into its own thing pretty quickly. :3c
WC. 1.4k
----- ⚘ -----
For as long as he has existed, the puppet has wanted a heart. As time crawls on, he moves from one name to the next, each with its own lived experiences.
He is just a Wanderer, now. After everything, fate decided he still wasn’t done with the world just yet. In the wake of his defeat at the Traveler’s hands, and his subsequent ‘adoption’ by the Dendro archon, Wanderer thought his aspirations of obtaining a heart were behind him.
Until he hears the rumors of a star being knocked loose from the heavens.
There are all sorts of myths attached to falling stars, they are said to be manifestations of Celestia’s favor, granted to those who have earned a boon from divinity greater than even the archons. They come in the form of blessings of strength, in star-forged weaponry, incomparable wealth, and fame. A wish to be granted beyond the bearer’s wildest imagination.
Which is why, when Wanderer sees the star falter in the sky before beginning its descent, he decides he wants that blessing for himself.
The journey to the edge of Liyue is a blur, quite literally in Wanderer’s case as he rides the wind at the fastest speed he could muster. The shine of stargold in the distance growing ever fainter as he races toward it. Dawn is just beginning to break when finally, finally, he stumbles upon the crash site.
That’s where he sees you, standing amidst the rubble and overturned trees, sitting in the glowing crater and cradling a nasty gash on your head. A stranger, with strange clothes, and a strange, dim glow in the morning light.
For a moment he’s angry, wondering how you could have gotten here before him, before he is overtaken by reluctant concern. He allows himself to land, stepping lightly as he comes to your side.
“What’s wrong?” he asks none too gently, uncaring of being rude to a newcomer, and crossing his arms as a frown overtakes his features. He nearly startles when you look up at him, and the light from the rising sun makes it seem like your eyes shine.
“They attacked me,” you explain, sniffing sadly as you rub your injury, spreading blood over your skin with the careless motion. With a noise of disgust, Wanderer reaches down and yanks your hand away, ignoring your weak cry of protest, and cleans the blood from your head with the edge of his own sleeve.
“You’re going to make it worse, idiot,” he scoffs. After he’s sure you won’t try to touch the injury again, he rips a strip from his own sleeve and uses it to bandage your head with perfunctory gestures. When he’s done, he stands up straight and admires his own first aid skills. “Alright, now that that’s taken care of, who attacked you?”
You smile at him gratefully, running your fingertips along the edge of the cloth. You draw your hand away before he can berate you for touching the site again. “There were people, with masks on,” you tell him. “They took something very important from me…”
“Treasure hoarders,” Wanderer guesses, looking over the edge of the crater to see if the group had left any traces. “I’m assuming you’re talking about the fallen star, right? You’re pretty naïve at best to have come out here without a weapon or fighting experience, and you’re an imbecile at worst. Really, you’re just lucky they didn’t kill you outright for your stupidity.”
You don’t respond, biting your lip to hide the tremble as his harsh words wash over you. Wanderer almost falters at your pathetic expression, but catches himself before he can do anything irrational, like try to comfort you.
“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, the bells on his head ringing in the early dawn. He turns and begins walking away with lazy strides. “I took care of you, so stop whining like a baby and go home, already. I’m going to go find those treasure hoarders. See ya.”
“Wait!” He hears you scramble behind him, but he doesn't bother turning around until you’ve caught up. “Wait, I have to come with you!”
Wanderer’s eyes narrow in annoyance. “I promise that you really don’t,” he snaps.
“What are you gonna do with a star-core by itself?” You counter, hands on your hips. “You’re looking to get a wish granted, right? A core on its own can’t do anything, someone has to wield it.”
“You mean like a catalyst?” Wanderer drawls while summoning his own weapon, the bell giving a faint chime.
“Sort of!” You nod hastily. “But each core is keyed to its specific owner, so you won’t be able to use it.”
“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?” Wanderer raises a single eyebrow, feeling the irritation bubble up further inside him. “For all I know, you could be after the star to take that wish for yourself. I won’t babysit you the whole way just for you to steal it from me at the last second.”
“We'll, if I’m lying, you can…” You trail off, gesturing wildly with open palms. “Leave me in the middle of nowhere! You said it yourself, I’m unarmed and helpless, and I have no way of knowing where you’d go. Please? I promise I’ll keep up!”
Wanderer doesn’t move as he gives you a long, considering look. In all honesty, if you do end up trying to rob him he knows you don’t actually stand a chance against him in a fight. The only thing he would have to lose, is time.
“Fine,” Wanderer turns away, resuming his pace. “Don’t slow me down, and don’t annoy me.”
There’s rapid footsteps as you hurry to fall into line beside him. “I get the feeling you’re the kind of guy who’s easily annoyed?” You ask, which Wanderer refuses to justify with a response.
For almost an hour the silence persists, to Wanderer’s relief. Tracking the treasure hoarders is a bit harder than he anticipated, finding traces of several individual groups scattered around the immediate area. Eventually, he deems one group of footprints as the most recent, and begins following them.
Most annoyingly, he cannot fly as long as you’re accompanying him. Well, he could, technically, but what if you’re telling the truth? He may need your help achieving his goal after all, so ditching you would do him no good. Besides, you’ve been behaving yourself so far. Relatively speaking.
He steals a glance in your direction, watching as you pick a leaf off some plant and put it in your mouth. He would be worried about potential poisoning, but he recognizes it as a berry plant, and he lets you chew on the leaf. He looks on with mild amusement as your face scrunches up and you open your mouth to stick your tongue out, carefully peeling the half-chewed leaf out of your mouth and putting it back on the ground.
“Having fun over there?” He asks, snickering as you jump in surprise at his sudden vocalization.
“I thought the leaf would taste as good as the fruit,” you reply with a shrug. “I tried a rock earlier, too, but it was too hard to properly crunch. It tasted like salt, though.”
“Are you a dog?? Stop putting random things in your mouth for no reason.” Wanderer sighs, walking over to you and grabbing your wrist. He drags you over to another plant, this one with a tall cluster of blue flowers on it. He picks a few leaves off and shoves them in your mouth just as you’re about to say something. “Here, have this one.”
He lets go of you as you chew on the leaves, a look of wonder on your face. You give him a broad grin, picking the rest of the leaves off the plant and holding them close to your chest.
“These ones taste good!” You say after swallowing. “What are they?”
Wanderer can only give you a blank stare. “Are you serious? You don’t know what mint is?”
“I don’t know what anything is!” You answer cheerfully, putting another mint leaf in your mouth. “I’ve never been here before!”
“What? You’re kidding, right?” Wanderer thinks he may be in over his head right now. He absolutely did not sign up for this. “But you know what salt is, you just admitted it yourself before!”
You laugh at his disbelieving expression. “Of course I know that! There’s salt in space.”
“Space?!”
“Uh-huh,” you nod quickly, seemingly oblivious to how confused Wanderer is becoming. “That’s where I’m from! You know, because I’m a star!”
You’re a what?!
#genshin scaramouche#genshin wanderer#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#genshin x reader#seabird.txt#not sure what else to tag this with LMAO there's a lot less tags here than my sagau posts#Wish Upon series#edit: me scrambling to fix a typo thanks to my stupid french keyboard 😔
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Event batch 6
We're finally here! Last batch of event requests, I can't believe how many amazing ideas you guys trusted me to write for you! 🤭🩵 thank you all for being here and supporting my little fics!
🩵 Check out my other event requests! 🩵
All three of these are part of the same request, by @resident-cryptid 🩵🤗 an exploration of the SAGAU archons that aren't Zhongli, and the regret of their own actions!
SAGAU!Venti - Imposter AU, angst, on-screen violence, Creator does reincarnate
SAGAU!Ei - Imposter AU, angst, on-screen violence, torture, Creator does not reincarnate
SAGAU!Nahida - Imposter AU, angst, off-screen violence, Creator’s post-death status unknown
----- ⚘ -----
SHAKE
The wind never lies. That’s the only thought that runs through Venti’s head as he chases the impostor through the Whispering Woods. The wind is the origin of all speech, of stories and truths and whispers under your breath. The people who speak can tell falsehoods as much as they please, but the wind itself will never lie.
Which is why Venti doesn’t know what to do with his own heart when the wind tells him that the person on their hands and knees crawling away from him, because he’d shot both of their heel tendons with his impeccable accuracy, is the true Creator.
But Venti has his orders, and he has his bow, and he lifts the weapon with shaking hands as he takes aim. You plead to him in a language he doesn’t understand, and the tears that fall from your agonized expression shimmer like crystals as they fall to the ground. You drag yourself further, leaving furrows in the dirt.
A turquoise arrow pins your left hand to the underbrush, and you let out another shriek of pain. The universal language of all living things. Venti’s stomach churns.
Another arrow grazes your cheek as you turn your head to beg him for mercy, and though Venti is not usually one to drag something like this out there’s just something clawing at the back of his mind that wants him to stopstopstopstOPSTOPSTOP-
The next arrow does not miss its mark, but only just. There is a scream both in the air and deep within Venti’s skull as the arrow pierces the side of your neck. The sensation is debilitating, it sends the bard to his knees and he holds his head in both hands as he watches in horror as you writhe and suffer from the poor shot, pulsing dark red through the wound rather than the merciful shot he’d been trying for.
It’s almost a relief when you finally expire, the screaming cuts off abruptly from all sources and Venti collapses on his hands in relief. There’s nothing as he watches your body turn to glittering dust, the wind sighing as if in relief. As if in pain.
The dust coalesces a few feet away, you. On your rump, you scoot away with all four intact limbs, gasping and trembling. The wind betrays its Archon as it sweeps you up in a whirlwind of twigs and leaves and raw Anemo, leaving Venti alone in the woods.
The worst part about atonement is people assuming you regret the wrong thing. When Venti returns to Mond with the revelation that the impostor has been killed, at the expense of his own powers, people believe he regrets having given up his elemental connection.
In truth, what he regrets most are the words he says and fails to say. He knows now, he thinks, that the true impostor is the one who ordered your death. The one he carried out. But, in order to protect you from others who would seek your end, the same way he sought it mere hours before, he needed to lie.
That’s when his voice fails, and his breath is stolen from him by the very Anemo he used to command. The tall tale he'd spend the entire journey back practicing? It never leaves his lips. For the first time in a long time, the bard is silent. He isn't sure he can ever speak again.
The people infer the outcome on their own, but Venti never tells them, because to say he killed an imposter would be a lie. And the wind, the air that freezes inside him and prevents him from blaspheming further, never lies.
----- ⚘ -----
RATTLE
Is it overkill to order the entire Shogunate forces to bring in the imposter? It’s been so long since EI had waged an honest war. The Raiden Shogun had overseen the VIsion Hunt Decree, leaving EI mostly out of the action, and being in command of the armies once more is a feeling that the Electro Archon had sorely missed.
Maybe it’s that feeling of elation that carries her as she leads the hunt herself, at the forefront of her army. It's no competition for who finds the imposter first, and Ei’s own hand clasps around the pathetic creature’s wrists as she leads them to the Tenryou detention center.
The heavily guarded detention center is cleared out of all prisoners save for one: the imposter, you.
There's a thrill under Ei’s artificial skin as she drags the point of her spear over the impostor's skin. In the low light of the prison cell, the blood that spills looks almost black.
“Tell me why you have impersonated our Creator,” Ei demands, easing up on the pressure of her blade momentarily. “What is your purpose? If you tell the truth, I will make what follows as painless as possible.”
You spit a wad of blood with a weak cough, a result of punctured lungs from earlier sessions. “I don’t- don’t know what you’re talking about…” you wheeze through gritted teeth, the same answer you’d given every other time you’d been asked the same question.
The room is dark, to prevent you from seeing shadows through your blindfold and guessing your gaoler's next move. You can hear her moving around you, but without the advantage of seeing her shadow you have no idea what she’s about to do.
“You are persistent,” Ei remarks coolly. “You would be commended for your perseverance in the face of danger, were you one of my own soldiers.”
The flat of her blade tilts your chin upward, making you strain your neck to avoid being decapitated.
“... Unfortunately, you are not one of my soldiers. And I tire of your incessant lies.”
You let out a bloodcurdling scream as Ei’s spear comes down with finality, piercing straight through your inner thigh and severing the artery there with deadly precision.
Ei watches almost dispassionately as you bleed out, mere seconds passing before you slump over, lifeless. With a single gesture, she commands for the torches to be lit once more.
The scene that greets her is horrific.
The dark blood she assumed was red is, in fact, a stunning deep gold. It’s splashed across every surface, decorating the room like foil leaf, and it pools under your body like a mirror, reflecting your empty, accusatory eyes back at her.
The realization strikes her like thunder. The bloodlust drains from her, directionless now that she finally spilled the blood she had unthinkingly demanded. The soldiers present witness as the usually stoic Archon crumples to her knees with a cry, palms clutching uselessly at the golden puddle as if she could put it back into your body with her own two hands.
What has she done? This is all her fault, if she’d only taken a moment to think deeper on her actions, if she’d lit the torches earlier, if she’d followed the instinct that roiled in her like a brewing storm, begging her not to do this…
This is all her fault. It’s Kitsune Saiguu all over again. It’s Makoto all over again. She paints your skin with your own blood, clumsy fingers trying to hold your wounds shut despite you already growing cold in her hands, until it disintegrates under her touch and you burst into thousands of shining particles. An unfelt breeze disperses your remains until every speck vanishes forever.
Ei gasps as something in her shatters, something she’d been trying to repair for such a long time. She retreats to the Plane of Euthymia, and leaves the confused Shogun puppet in her wake to deal with her mistakes.
----- ⚘ -----
ROLL
Nahida needs to know. She heard the rumors, she received the call to action, but she couldn’t be sure about the true intention of the so-called impostor.
What if it were simply an unfortunate circumstance? Surely it is to be expected, with the rate at which children are born in this world, that at least one or two lucky (or unlucky) people would be born with features similar to the Creator.
This, instead of ordering a manhunt, she requests that the forces of Sumeru retrieve the impostor and bring them in for questioning. She would hate for this to be the product of a divine misunderstanding, after all.
Or, maybe, she feels a strange kinship with the one who is accused of masquerading as a god. After all, didn’t Nahida also often feel as though she were but a mere replacement for another, better god? But that can’t be right, because Nahida has always been the Dendro Archon, and Irminsul would not lie to her.
It’s difficult to mass organize now that the Akashi system has been deprecated. Nahida’s orders are given via the matra, and spread to the various mercenary groups by letter or word of mouth. Somehow, along the way, the order is warped. Or, maybe, someone with an agenda purposefully gave the wrong order.
Which is why Nahida only hears about it happening secondhand, the letter finding her in her sanctuary, that the imposter has been caught and interrogated by Eremites somewhere in the Dharma forest. Dread seizes her, and she casts her consciousnesses out toward anyone familiar.
She finds the General Mahamatra on his way back to the city. In his mind, she begs the general to seek out this band of Eremites and prevent the loss of their prisoner. She impresses the importance that the prisoner be brought to her alive.
The swiftness at which Cyno travels is, unfortunately, not enough to prevent your demise. When he arrives at the scene, Nahida still riding behind his eyes, you have already been wrapped in a loose shroud, loaded onto the back of a cart to be taken into the city by sumpter beasts tomorrow morning. A shipment of one wanted criminal, dead or alive.
Nahida despairs in Cyno’s mind, feeling the world being overwritten. Knowledge seeps into the earth as the shroud covering you slowly deflates, your body evaporating into glittering particles.
As the keeper of wisdom, she is the first to know that you are not the impostor. In fact, she comes to the understanding quite quickly, as information filters directly through Irminsul and into her consciousness, that you might have been the only one who has kept their true face all along.
Venti embodying his dearest friend. Ei fashioning and possessing a puppet made in her sister’s image. Rex Lapis staging his own death to live as a human and cast off his responsibilities as a god.
And herself, who is a mere cutting from a larger, stronger, better plant. She remembers, now, the hopes that Lord Rukkhadevata had placed on her shoulders as she had entrusted the care of Sumeru to a lone, trembling leaf.
As all the world’s knowledge is restored, so too is the memory of the corruption returned to Irminsul, and Nahida isn’t sure what’s worse; knowing that she had let the Creator, you, die by her command? Or that your death may have placed her people in danger once more?
Is it selfish, she wonders, that she wishes she never had to know?
#self aware genshin#genshin sagau#sagau#genshin self aware au#genshin isekai#sagau impostor au#genshin imposter au#sagau cult au#genshin cult au#genshin venti#sagau venti#genshin ei#genshin raiden shogun#sagau ei#sagau raiden shogun#genshin nahida#sagau nahida#seabird.txt#birdy.thanks
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Glitch AU headcanons 1
here are a handful of headcanons that i'm working with for the glitch AU!
feel free to poke me about any of them, or to ask about hcs of other things! 😊
Wanderer is the only puppet with a full history recorded within Irminsul. Irminsul still has not compiled a history for the other two, but for the most part their lives have remained the same as in canon.
Wanderer is the only catalyst user. Scaramouche and Kabukimono, both being non-Vision wielders, are sword users.
Kabukimono is the more proficient swordsman, since relatively speaking he has practiced more recently, whereas Scara has been relying on an electro Delusion for a while and is out of practice
Kabukimono is ‘physically’ stronger than both Scara and Wanderer, in the sense that his machinery is more robust and better adapted to physical labor. Scara’s (and by extension Wanderer’s) bodies have previously been altered by Dottore to prefer speed over strength.
Between him and Scara, Wanderer is the only one who retained the knowledge from their time in the Shouki no Kami. This means he’s the only one who can communicate telepathically
Wanderer, Nahida, and Aranyani can all communicate telepathically; Wanderer needs to be within a short distance (from one side of a city to the other), Nahida can reach all of Sumeru (she’s still growing/learning), and Aranyani can reach all of Teyvat due to her longer experience
as Irminsul compiles their history/backstory, Kabukimono and Scara will begin to develop new ‘memories’, and the historical knowledge of the world will adapt to accommodate them
(related to part 3) Nahida knows that a Rtawahist or Vahumana scholar might be better suited to figure out the reader’s situation but she only personally knows Cyno and Alhaitham, and so feels more comfortable inviting them rather than reaching out to a stranger
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