[lovesickeros]

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[lovesickeros]

☆ i dream of embers

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes no au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.1k

The House of the Hearth is quiet — or, if you really wanted to be precise, the rats scuttling through the walls are working around the bubble you exist in. The children dare not tempt fates hand unless you asked for them by name, a contradiction. An order to the rules — they mustn't approach you with trivialities, but they must listen if you speak. Your words carry more weight than gold in this house, whether you know it or not.

A tenuous position.

You haven't done anything to earn their reverence, their almost acrid fear — but Arlecchino has. She wields her silver tongue with as much ease as her polearm, ensuring your care in her absence. Her devotion, her service, is felt in the warmth of her chambers, the silks she adorns you with, the bed so soft you feel as though you melt into it. A gift, a promise — a gilded cage need not be something undesirable.

You've grown used to the encumbrance of her presence, these days. The deep timbre of her voice, honeyed yet melting into something rougher, quieting into haunting silence as if she seeks not to disturb you. Dim candlelight is all that illuminates her broad frame as she slowly presses the door open and closed behind her, pallid skin streaked with darkening red, her bottom lip smeared with it like lipstick. There is a tension to her shoulders even when she sets aside her polearm, out of sight and out of mind, harsh lines on her face visible in the deep furrow of her thin brows.

Here, she let's the weariness settle deep into her bones — it's just the two of you, even if she hasn't acknowledged you at all. Still, it's a vulnerability she shows no other, even if that vulnerability is hidden behind layers of barbed wire and teeth.

You watch rather idly from the bed as she wets a cloth in a basin of water, the bed creaking beneath you as your feet sink into the plush rug beneath. You know from experience that trying to help her is like trying to soothe a wild dog, but your knuckles brush over the sharp line of her cheek anyway, free hand stealing the soaking cloth from her hands when her jaw flexes and tenses beneath the pads of your fingers.

It is only then that she looks down at you, eyes as sharp as blades yet so indescribably warm — like a flame licking at your skin, burning so deep you feel it linger for weeks after. Arlecchino is not soft, far from it — but she blunts her jagged edges for you anyway, brushes her lips against your knuckles and allows you a moment of adoration. Carves her worship bone deep in the ghost of her touch against your lower back as she leans down, let's you wash away the blood certainly not her own, never blinking as if you'd simply up and leave if she stopped looking at you for even the smallest moment.

You are well aware she is caging you in. You let her.

Though she is still stiff as a board up to the moment you set the washcloth over the side of the basin, her jaw flexing again, a moment of consideration given. She is not used to soft and brittle things, though — not used to touch that does not lead to steel at her throat, in her gut, carving out softness like a butcher carves up meat, section by section.

But this affliction of affection is stronger than the discomfort, at times.

You almost half consider letting her take the room and have a night of proper rest, but she is faster than you — a calloused hand tilts your head back, half lidded eyes glinting beneath the weight of exhaustion, her thumb firm against your bottom lip. She could kill you without even blinking, you are aware, but she is nothing but careful with her touch — not soft, not Arlecchino, but there is adoration in her touch. Like thumbing a locket portrait, trying to imprint their features into memory by touch alone.

Her touch is fleeting, but the warmth lingers long after — you don't need to be touching to feel the weight of her attention. She stokes the flames of the dying fire, has one of the children bring a fresh pot of tea, lingers even when she doesn't have to. You're sure her desk in her office is far more comfortable to work at, but she'd crammed a small desk into the room anyway, stayed even long after you fell asleep most nights. You never did get to stay up long enough to notice her slip in beside you, nor wake up early enough to find her there with you, but the heat lingers — she leaves breakfast at your bedside table, a small note of affection if she's feeling particularly sappy. Even when you don't see her, she makes sure you feel her presence however she can.

Neither of you need to speak to express it. The silence is..oddly comfortable, filled by the shift of paper or scratch of a pen, the clink of a cup or crackle of fire. It's a little too easy to get lost in watching her work, masking a smile whenever she glanced back at you with a question on the tip of her tongue that goes unsaid.

It's better that way, you both think. The silence was best left undisturbed — as if trying to break it would be like breaking the mirror to each others lives. You don't busy yourself in the affairs of the House of the Hearth, and she doesn't make you. It's better that way, too. Maybe that makes you naive, blind even, to the bodies at her feet piled so high she could drown, but you don't want to give up this fragile tranquility.

So you let the dull scratch of a pen lull you to sleep, try not to smile too much when a hand reaches out in uncertainty to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheek with so much affection it makes it hard to breathe.

It's a tenuous balance, but come the next night you will wipe the blood from her cheek again and she will care for you the only way she knows how — distant service.

And when you wake up to an empty bed, warm despite the fires long burned out, you'll still feel her presence in the allure of a warm drink and pastries at your bedside, a note tucked beneath the plate.

Just like the day before, and just as you expect tomorrow to be. But one day you'll gently pull apart the barbed wire and be let in — not today, no, but someday. It's a slow process, but you're patient enough to wait — and when she let's you in, you'll tend to the scars that it left like you've always done.

One step at a time, one day.

[lovesickeros]

Hello! Since this blog doesn't see much activity nowadays, I wanted to say two things: 1. How are you? You were one of the people who inspired me to dive into SAGAU in 2022 and captivated me endlessly with your writing style. Your writing immersed me in what felt like a fantasy world in the best way—rife with possibilities, danger, love, and so much more. It propelled me to new heights and made me wonder what it would be like to be more than the reader, to wield a pen and use it as the brushstroke to paint all kinds of worlds, creatures, and characters.

On that note, I'll follow with the second thing: 2. You are one of my biggest inspirations as a writer. Because of you and others, I've spent the last two years writing and creating like never before in a way I didn't think I was capable of. I have an AO3 and a Tumblr blog, mainly dedicated to posting my musings in a "stream-of-consciousness" format for narrative purposes. Because of you, I've grown—as a person, friend, and writer. Because of you, I made countless memories I'll cherish for years: sharing and building stories with my friends' group chat, roleplaying, making AUs, etc. Because of you, I did everything I thought I couldn't: I fostered my creativity and cultivated it to plant what is now a thriving garden regularly visited by my friends. It has helped us bond immensely and provided me solace in my darkest hours.

Because of you, I wrote my first book on Wattpad. I hopped onto a wild, emotional, and unforgettable rollercoaster that saw my interest in watching movies and reading literature be re-ignited for the sake of inspiration, have a taste of fandom culture via Steven Universe, Genshin Impact, Murder Drones, and several other games and shows that have undoubtedly and irreversibly changed my life. Because of you, I made OCs, I discovered YouTube movie recaps, and now I can write a pretty good summary myself!

That is to say that I'm wholly grateful to you, Eros, and everyone else who led me down the path of the writer, supported me throughout with their comments, memes, stars, and kudos, and generally showed enthusiastic interest in my work. I wouldn't be here if not for you all. I hope your ship of life continues sailing smoothly, as has mine, after years of turbulent weather and unpredictable storms that threatened to throw us overboard if I hadn't held on to others (and myself) for support.

May the new year bring you joy and prosperity, and hey, what do you know? Maybe I'll write something for SAGAU someday. The only reason I haven't taken the plunge yet is because of how inactive (for lack of a better word) the community there has become, and I don't know what I would write. Ideas, anyone?

Anyway, I've talked for long enough. Keep up the good work, Eros, and remember that in someone's (my) heart, you are still held dearly as an inspiration. Even if the golden age has long faded, we will always have our memories to keep us company: "Don't cry because it ended. Smile because it happened."

it is unfortunate that the collective sagau fandom has kind of died out, honestly. its what got me really into writing as well (which i feel like i have to mention @/nicebonescomrade for being the writer to get me to make my first sagau blog. one of the other og's and also a phenomenal writer). im glad it had such a large impact on you though!! that makes me really happy bc ive always been self conscious about my writing and writing style ngl, though i never grew out of it bc it worked for me. i can't imagine stories like books as a movie in my head like some people (literally head empty) so i lean more on actually putting more feeling and description into my work to compensate. it gets a bit wordy but it helps me write bc i do not plan anything i just start writing based on vibes.

sagau downfall was definitely inevitable (and a part of why im super inactive) but im happy with how it turned out anyway bc of how big the fandom is and how many people turned to creative hobbies bc of it. its nice to know i at least had some kind of impact myself KJHKDH i wouldnt consider myself one of the "big" sagau accounts by any means so its a bit of a surprise ngl um. looks around.

i genuinely just spend most of my time these days printing out random fics when i get the urge (once in a blue moon, 99% of which are in my draft vault), playing whatever game caught my fancy this week and playing genshin because it's still a black hole i will never escape from! honestly maybe one day ill come back to this account for real instead of sporadic posting but uhhh. probably not unless a new big au pops up again.

[lovesickeros]

☆ choir of the faithless

{☆} characters venti, kaeya, the abyss {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings violence (minor) {☆} word count 2.7k

One moment, you lay wistlessly in your bed, head full of fleeting thoughts and ideas you bounced around internally. You were moment away from falling asleep, the draw of exhaustion unraveling the threads of your mind, pulling you apart and weaving your thoughts into the fathomless depths of a boundless dream.

The next you conclude that is exactly where you must be – blinking rapidly against the bright sun that bears down upon you through the massive branches and array of thousands of leaves swaying above you. It can only be a dream because you know those roots, those winding branches and the soothing song of wind chimes as leaves rustle and sway in the invisible path of the wind. It feels too real, but don't many dreams? You reach your hand sluggishly skyward, imagining the feeling of touching those leaves so high above, admiring the way light fractures as it passes through the tree so massive it blots out the sky above you. You'd have to crane your neck just to catch a proper glimpse of solemn blue past the swaying ocean of vivid greens.

It's beautiful.

It's familiar in the way home is. That warmth that settles in your chest, the solemn, quiet moments between. You've spent hours staring up at this tree, both your first steps and your last, simply admiring it all for what fleeting moments you can cling to.

You've played the game long enough – strayed towards its familiar branches at they reach towards the heavens – to recognize Windrise at even a passing glance. The perfect portrait of Mondstadt – the massive oak at the center, the statue of the seven with its hands outstretched and its wings curled protectively around itself..a memory of something you've seen a hundred thousand times, lingering like a ghost amongst its branches and roots, clinging to its familiarity. Maybe Mondstadt isn't the most complex, or gorgeous, or detailed..but it was the first stepping stone to the world of Teyvat you knew. It was the beginning of the Travelers journey and your own – the first, hesitant step into a game you'd learned to love.

You might as well enjoy it might it lasts, right?

This tumultuous, fragile dream of yours.

You sit up with no small amount of hesitancy, taking in the rolling, distant hills and far away cliffs. Mondstadt isn't that far – far enough that it bleeds into the scenery, but you feel that pang of fragile familiarity seeing it in the distance anyway. In contrast to its nation, Mondstadt stood like a towering beacon of stability, stark grey against the ever expanding hues of green and blue, a symbol of tranquility among the monster-laden lands beyond its walls. You still come by once and a while, whether or not it's your favorite place to linger – if only to reminisce and ponder the countless hours you've sunk into the game. To take a moment and admire the nation that had slowly dragged you into loving the world you've become so familiar with, to truly take a moment and process your endless journey further, deeper, into the mystery of Teyvat as it slowly unraveled like a spool of thread.

It felt almost real. The grass beneath you, the wind rustling the leaves and swirling around you, the warmth of the distant sun as it stood unwavering at its peak – but it was a dream. Vivid, maybe, but still a dream.

You didn't want to wake up from it, though.

It'd be nice to stay here for a little longer, to be able to wander past these fragile barriers of the world around you – but would you wake if you longed to see those distant horizons? Would you even remember this dream? Maybe not.

But the endless urge to explore – to see and truly experience that distant, familiar visage for yourself – was calling. A craving to run your hand along towering stone walls, to trace the intricate lines of the alchemy table you'd used hundreds of times, to get lost in the endless books tucked away in the library..a longing that you could never fulfill.

But you'd try anyway, wouldn't you?

You'd make the most of this fleeting dream – stumbling like a newborn fawn after seelies, watching from hidden perches as the occasional cart rolled by on dirt roads, observing the distant hilichurl with a look of solemn understanding. Re-familiarizing yourself with the paths you'd traveled hundreds of times, treading along the same, curious line you'd taken the Traveler.

Maybe it was just an aspect of the dream, but the wildlife didn't run away like it did in the game – the wild boars startled when you approached, but they'd settle down and continue their idle grazing before long. The occasional crystalfly fluttered to your outstretched hands like a moth to flame, the cool, subtle touch of anemo against your skin like a soft breeze, ephemeral and fleeting.

Even the squirrels did not flee at your boundless curiosity – it is as if you are a ghost, perhaps, wandering these wide spanning plains in search of..well, you aren't sure. You let your feet guide you, just like you used to. There is charm in the aimless exploration, a sort of comfort in wandering and observing the world through new eyes.

Perhaps you should've taken more caution when you reached Mondstadt itself – a dream was a fragile thing, after all..there was no telling when a dream could meld into a nightmare. But you were in the nation of freedom, who could blame you for throwing caution to the wind?

Uncertain as your steps across the bridge were, it was tranquil – ducks skimmed beneath the bridge, fish dotted the serene surface, clear waters rippling with their movements. There was something about it all that felt more alive. It felt more real, for a moment, but what an absurd thought that must be.

A dream is no more real than Teyvat.

And at the gates of the city, at last, you feel relief – the eyes of NPCs glide over you like water over the back of a swan, allowing you to simply step past them without even an utterance of a question. Up close, with your own eyes to guide you, Mondstadt is more alive than it's ever been. The people converse and laugh and breathe – the small details you'd miss looking through the limited frame of the Traveler peek through, now.

You get so lost in admiring it all you almost trip over a cat that strays near your feet, rubbing against your ankles. Your hand twitches, as if to reach down and pet it, to feel it's fur beneath your palm – but the small voice that flows from the tavern stalls you in your tracks. You don't have to turn around to know who it is, you've heard her voice enough times to recognize it – and, really, you'd rather not get caught up in the logistics of interacting with the characters in a dream at the moment. It's not like they can see you, besides. Everyone else didn't even seem to know you were there at all.

And you were here to explore, first. You could test the limits of the dream later, once you're satisfied you've seen it all.

You sidestep the cat – as much as it pains you to ignore it, you really don't know how much time you're afforded in this dream – and take up wandering undeterred. Maybe you'll check out the library, next..you only read a measly fraction of the books there, after all, and the wonder of something new is a tempting lure. Maybe if you get the chance, you'll seek out your favorite character – even if the dream ends there, it'll at least dampen the disappointment when you awake in your own bed again.

Mondstadt is still relatively small, despite seeming so much bigger – by the time you're slinking into the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, your legs are aching from all the walking. Even if you don't find anything too interesting here, well, you'll take sitting down for a moment to catch your breath at least.

The game made it seem so easy to get from Windrise to the city, but your legs practically putty when you peered into the library with a healthy amount of caution – it's not like anyone has even glanced your way since you woke up in this dream, but you knew not to test it around Lisa and her books..

Even if it was a dream, waking up because you got electrocuted by a pissed off librarian didn't sound very appealing.

Especially because, along the way, you'd become the perch for a handful of anemo crystalflies. You'd almost forgotten some linger on the rooftops until now..well, they seemed content to just rest on your limbs, and it's not like they weighed much if anything. It'd probably be fine – how much harm could a crystalfly cause?

The steps down into the lower level of the library creaked slightly as you slowly took in the grandiose room, trying to glimpse some semblance of familiarity amongst the hundreds of book covers nestled into the shelves. Maybe having a reference of just ten or twenty books wasn't exactly the most extensive list – you could barely even remember what books you mindlessly picked up chasing glittering spots like a moth chases the flickering flame.

Maybe you'll see Venti's statue, next – it was impressive enough in game, you could only imagine how it looks in person, how the smooth stone feels beneath your fingertips.

For now, you scour the rows and rows of book, gleaning the contents of the books from the assorted covers and titles so foreign to you. You recognize a scarce few, those you picked up on your first, brisk walk through the library scouring for treasure just to be disappointed at the lack of it. These days you're just happy to bask in the atmosphere and reminisce here – unless you're dragging your feet to do your Theater for the month. Not a lot of room for reminiscing when you're busy fighting for your life to finish on time.

Still, you're almost half disappointed there hasn't been many playable characters around..sure, maybe they'd just ignore you like the other NPCs, but it'd still be nice to see them. If Dawn Winery wasn't so far away, you'd consider dropping by, just to see, but..well, you've hiked long enough, personally.

Though as much as you'd like to busy yourself in the library, you do want to make the most of your time, too. You don't pay much attention to the patter of footsteps as you ascend the stairs and awkwardly step past the guard outside the library, the brief blur of reds and blues in the corner of your eyes gone before you can truly see its source. Well, there's more to see anyway – the cathedral was impressive enough when you first saw it in game, you can only imagine it's magnificence now.

All the stairs definitely feels worse now that you can't just haul yourself up a wall like in game, though. Maybe it would've been better to rest a bit more in the library, but you really didn't want to waste this chance..how often did you really have this much control over a dream, anyway? You feel lucky it hadn't turned into a nightmare.

And it was more than worth it when you crested the top of the stairs, the wind rushing past you for a brief moment and almost making you stumble as your eyes flit towards the towering stone you'd known so well. Hands outstretched and draped in robes, looking all the Archon they are..well, it was a lot more detailed like this. The lull of music doesn't escape you, either – because of course they'd be strumming that lyre beneath their own statue. Playing to an audience who knows not the bard that plays a melody of their own triumphs. The same bard who commands the wind as if an extension of themself, their voice the chimes that sing in tune with its winding paths, free and true.

Even if you've never heard the song they play before, it leaves a warm feeling in your chest – a homesickness, maybe, for a place you've never even been to. A longing for the world made up of lines of code and pixels on a screen. Endless yearning for a world not your own – a place you don't belong.

Poetic, isn't it?

Fitting, seeing as your audience is a bard who loves to tempt another into a riddle of their own, their silver tongue used for mischief rather than malice.

It wouldn't be so bad if you woke up now, you think. Lulled back to reality by the gentle strum of a lyre and the sweeping winds.

A reality all your own.

The harsh twang of a lyre brings you out of your aimless reverie, eyes of the teal ocean meeting your own in a moment of startling clarity. You are almost tempted to look behind you, for they must be perceiving another – but the empty, hollow thud of the lyre hitting the cobbled ground is like a bullet to the chest.

Beneath the shrouded eyes of an Archon, the wind coils into a tightly wound bolt that sings with danger, the draw of a string making your blood run cold and your instincts flare up.

Before you could even process the fact they'd just drawn a bow – the bow you had given them – the pillar of the corridor shattered like glass beneath the force of an elemental arrow, rubble dusting the cobblestone and dragging you out of your horrified stupor. If it hadn't been between the two of you, you can only dread to imagine what an arrow that pulverized rock would do to you.

There's a knot in your stomach as you turn to pace right back down the stairs, but you stutter at the sharp glint of metal and familiar blue hair that stands frozen mid-step – for a moment you can't even register any of this, your mind refuses to accept the stark, bleeding truth right in front of you, but the shrill sound of anemo forces you to make a choice. You only hesitate for a moment before throwing yourself over the edge of the wall, nearly choking on your saliva when you hit the ground – it was farther than you remember, but when your other choice is a blade and an arrow, you're thankful you haven't broken anything yet as you stumble to your feet.

Why haven't you waken up yet? You don't want to be in this dream anymore – you don't want anything to do with the nightmare it's become. Just seeing their faces, familiar and once so calm and warm, contrasted with the sharp edge of danger made you want to be sick.

Water – water will wake you up, right? That always works. Your feet slip on the dirt, struggling to gain purchase, forcing yourself to rush towards the cliffs edge – you have to repeat that it's just a dream like a mantra just to keep yourself calm when you look down, the lapping waves and jagged rocks making you almost reconsider. Not that you get the chance, really, when the wood of the tree beside you is splintered so violently you can feel them digging into your skin.

You don't even realize you've lost your footing until the edge of the cliff gives beneath your heel, air rushing around you and forcing what little breath was left in your lungs out violently. Your vision blurs into a collage of blue and grey, the sky above and the side of the cliff you find yourself falling from flooding your vision – you have to trust you'll simply wake up in your bed once you hit the water. You have to.

You don't want to imagine what it would mean if you didn't.

It's just a dream – all of it is just a dream, no. a nightmare.

And as the water parts from the impact of your body against the surface, it drags you down like an anchor weighed against your chest. Your vision bleeds into white, a chill enveloping your limbs until you feel numb – dead, probably. You must be dead. You died and you plead that you wake up back at home, exhaling whatever breath you had left, cold stinging your throat like shards of glass.

Anchored weightlessly in frigid cold, blinded by stark white, your fleeting thoughts are silenced as your consciousness flickers in and out, lingering long enough only to hear the murmur of a raspy, unearthly voice.

"I believe the experiment can be considered a success, Princess."

[sheepispink]

when they say they’re a genshin impact fan but they dont know sagau tumblr in 2021 😞😞😞

[lovesickeros]

now that natlan is out it's tsaritsa yearning hours again because i am one nation closer to either being horribly disappointed or foaming at the mouth!

creator!reader w a little side of conflicted tsaritsa is such good food I can't not yap about it. a woman who has dedicated so much of her life to severing herself from "love" of all kinds and succeeding and. just being so confident that when she meets you she's bitter and angry and mean. because she can't stand you. she isn't supposed to love yet you worm your way into her heart anyway and you don't even know it.

especially in smth like an imposter au. she tells herself your just a tool for her to use but your treated like the Divine you really are, pampered and spoiled every step. tells herself it means nothing when she indulges you – let's you hold her hand in private, eventually let's you move aside the veil, just a little.

and she hates it. hates how easy it is to let you break down the ice she's built up for years.

all you do is smile and she feels like she can't breathe. because despite how violently she rejects love in all aspects, it always bleeds through eventually. she despises it but the way you brush your thumbs over her cheeks makes her bitter and warm and it infuriates her to no end.

she hates you and she loves you and she can't stand you and if you were ever taken from her she'd destroy every inch of teyvat if she had to go get you back.

and ironically enough I think she'd also be the one to initiate any first kiss. maybe she's still trying to convince herself it's just a fluke and itll make her realize it meant nothing, it means nothing. desperate to fix whatever you've done to her and instead it just makes it worse.

a horrible mess of a woman who gave up on love just to be confronted with it when she finally accepted it's absence.

[lovesickeros]

do you have any Rosaria headcanons?

I have sporadic headcannons for like. everyone in this game I think abt it maybe a little. think abt it occasionally. just gonna do generalized hcs here since you didn't specify if you wanted smth like yan/sagau or anything 🧍

cryo characters are my fave to write about bc. looks at tsaritsa. no reason in particular :]

kind of wish hoyo went more in depth with visions. stolen authority of the dragon sovereigns given to the common people and there's no side effects it's just a buff? nah. delusions kind of fill that role but I like to think having a vision still changes you in some manner (kind of like how I imagine the archons still retain certain inhuman characteristics even after losing their gnosis. you don't get that kind of power for free)

for cryo users the obvious thing is very cold body temp. which, to me, is why rosaria is so pale. she's practically bordering on getting frostbite and since she doesn't really interact with people, well, it can be a boon when she "works" at night.

if things had been different, she probably wouldn't have been so frigid. someone like Kaeya, even though he got his vision during his fight with Diluc, still had his brother to even him out alongside the rest of the knights (Jean, Lisa, Amber etc). For me, at least, his vision less affected body temp anyway and just generally numbed some of his senses. namely touch & taste. he's been trying to get Rosaria out more but their both cryo so, well..he can't help much. their absolutely besties though. even outside of drinking and needling Diluc.

she smokes a lot because it's as close to warmth as she can get without burning. she's sensitive to heat, even more so then other cryo users. you'd think her being so cold would offer protection against it, but..nah. absolutely dreads hot summers. it's a nightmare for her.

she's generally just very standoffish but she is practical. not aimed at a specific au here but if you manage to get close to her despite her prickly and relatively cold attitude shes actually very protective. she doesn't get close to a lot of people so the few people she is close to she goes out of her way to make sure no one tries anything with them. though most of her help is behind the scenes - you won't really know it's her unless you somehow figure it out. she's sneaky and works at night, which gives her ample opportunity to sort things out. someone giving you trouble? they apologize the next morning seemingly out of nowhere. forgot or lost something? suddenly find it somewhere in plain view in your house.

shes not exactly thrilled about direct praise and thanks. it makes her feel out of place and awkward. if you do realize what she's doing, it's best not to openly bring it up. just taking her out for drinks or something is enough, but she doesn't care if you do nothing either way.

it's like befriending a feral cat.

she's not exactly fond about touching, either. for both of your sakes. shes COLD as I mentioned earlier and I do mean very cold. she'll stick to admiring from a distance. your too good for her anyway. practically the sun in comparison - she'd melt before she even got close.

she'll protect you and you'll be happy and that's all she would ever need. she's fine watching from a distance because she's gotten accustomed to the dark and cold.

[lovesickeros]

zhongli and neuvillette fighting over their reader 🤭🤭

scary dog privilege wherever you go, draconic courting gestures that would scare any regular person, they send each other deadly glares the moment you turn away,

stealing your clothes to just get a whiff of your scent, marking their territory all over your house - making it a battlefield basically, neuvillette (in my hc) is cooler and zhongli is warm so the cuddles are always so comfy ☺️😍,

they give you anything you want - you don't even have to lift a finger, they make you travel between the nations a lot though 😒 sooo clingyyy, extra gentle in their dragon forms as to not squish you, don't even get me started on the size difference 😍😍

just a little thought 🤭☺️

- 🐈‍⬛

Neuvi being colder is so real and canon. I see him as being colder + a lot more lithe, kinda lanky with smaller but sharper canines versus Zhongli who's warmer and a bit shorter then Neuvi + bulkier with bigger but not as sharp canines.

They've also got very different habits – Zhongli is very prideful not just of himself but his nation. He'll personally give your a tour and purposely drag it out as long as he can. Complimenting Liyue is basically complimenting him, checkmate Neuvi. Especially if he convinces you to try on some local Liyue fashion. Harmless and just a nice gift to anyone else but Neuvi sees it for what it is (since your wearing something from Liyue, technically wearing something of his. He loves his technicalities when it comes to staking a claim over you). Adds salt to the wound by touching you in totally innocent ways like to adjust you towards something he wants to show you or accidently brushing against you when he takes the bags of spoils he's practically drowning you in but really he's just making sure his scent sticks. He's just a sweet, nice gentleman with absolutely no ulterior motives trust.

Neuvillette does love Fontaine, but his habits are more about himself then the nation. He'll take you around if you ask or if the idea strikes him, but you'll probably stay around the making city area or the opera house specifically. He enjoys more personal time with just you and him then anything else. He values the immaterial to the material. Zhongli spoils you with gifts, but Neuvi tries to offer quality time irregardless of physical gifts (though he still gives them just not to the extent of Zhongli). He'll take you to see different operas if that's to your fancy, or leverage a bit of his authority to maybe see a few films since those seem to be hitting off in Fontaine recently. Bet that creaky old archon doesn't have those huh. He feels awkward if you want to watch a trial, but he'll reluctantly agree because. well. it's you. just don't wave or anything he's trying to work and he just Really wants to see you smile at him like that again and it makes him lose his train of thought. gets custom clothes designed by Chiori to replace your clothes from Liyue because they smell of Zhongli and it makes him sulky + he likes to match.

G-d forbid these two are in the same room as you because it's a war of attrition at that point. Constant accidental brush of the hand against your shoulder or elbow but it's just them trying to get rid of the others scent. they are side eyeing each other behind your back while being all smiles whenever your looking. If it's hot and you lean into Neuvi more he's practically GLOWING. not even smug he's just absolutely smitten and happy to be of service. immediately takes off his gloves and presses his hands to your face asking if your okay and if you want to go back with him. if it's cold out and you seek out Zhongli more hes smug as hell beneath the calm veneer. Offers you his coat and stay as physically close to you as he can under the pretense of being worried you'll catch a cold if he doesn't warm you up.

don't even get me started on your house either because you probably have tons of gifts from both of them accumulated everywhere. if Neuvi sees you use a tea set from Zhongli suddenly he had a fantastic gift idea he thought you'd like. he even got some tea included with it so why don't you let him make you some? Zhongli sees you using a goblet Neuvi gave you (totally a coincidence it's similar to his) and suddenly you have 27 square cups in your cabinets that you have no idea where they came from. if the goblet is mysteriously missing oh well. who knows :]

[lovesickeros]

you go on hiatus a lot is there a specific reason for that orrrr /gen (hope this doesn't come as rude just curious)

i mean kinda. a lot of burn out mostly because ngl the sagau side of the fandom feels kinda dead these days and i just don't get a lot of asks. id love to post and write more but my motivation kinda dies out quickly now. still keeping this blog up for my fics in case I decide to come back long term or the sagau fandom picks up again ig 🤷

[lovesickeros]

Hello, 🤗

I'm reaching out to you with a heartfelt plea.

Could you please take a moment to reblog my pinned post about our fundraising campaign to support my family?

Your support, whether through donations or sharing our story, has the power to make a profound difference in our lives. 🙏

Thank you deeply for your consideration and generosity. 🌷❤️

I just moved so I don't have any money to spare but I've included the link here to anyone able to donate + I've reblogged it 🫡

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

SAGAU where the Creator is slain once, accused of being an imposter, and reborn as... a Melusine.

there's screaming and pain, the sensation of a thin blade digging into your chest- then nothing. nothing but the soft melody of running water. tentatively you open your eyes are met with dancing colors and shapes, little shell houses and baubles making a small, cozy village. your hands have become mittens, your skin swirling with pretty patterns, a pair of antennae sprouting from your head, and where there were previously cuts dripping with blood have turned to markings that shimmer slightly in the light. another Melusine approaches you and asks if you're lost, and when you merely shrug she introduces herself as Cosanzeana and shows you her slowly growing flower garden.

it's nice here, in Merusea Village. unlike the rest of Teyvat, the Melusine don't know nor care much about any sort of Creator myths- they came from Elynas, after all- so they happily regard you as a sibling who simply got lost on the way. finally you're free from the world above, everyone who chases and tries to harm you, spending your days collecting components to trade and swimming beneath the waves. Mamere in particular becomes a close friend, both of you regarded as a little strange but still beloved by all your siblings. she shows you her artwork and you help her collect paint, and in the coldest nights when you're swarmed by bad dreams, you tell her of your previous life as she swears to keep it a secret.

the only time you venture out into the far caverns alone is when you meet a familiar face- Childe's Foul Legacy form. you always loved the transformation, when Teyvat was just a game on your computer, but now you hastily hop a few steps back. the others treated you as a fraud, tearing at your skin until you gave in and died- he would be exactly the same. but Foul Legacy just blinks, slowly crouching to your height and staring into your eyes, speckled with tiny stars. he trills quietly in awe, then lowers his head into a bow in presence of the true Creator.

the other Melusine cluster around you when you bring him back to Merusea, curiously poking at his armor and glittery wings. you all see him as beautiful, and he is beautiful! Legacy stays with you in the village, accepted with open arms, much like Seymour stayed with Mamere for a time, and it becomes common to see a slightly sparkly Melusine running around with an Abyssal beast at their heels. he swims with you, navigating through the Primordial Sea, and shields you from any outsiders that happen to appear, the ones who dared to harm his Creator so horribly.

you, a Melusine, and Foul Legacy, your protector and best friend.

[lovesickeros]

popping in randomly after almost an entire month just to talk non stop about the tsaritsa again everyone sit down.

specifically just thinking about the implications of tsaritsa's ideals originally being about love + the abandonment of those ideals to complete her goal of, presumably, destroying Celestia or whatever she's cooking up. to the point even her people don't love her and I probably don't even remember a time her ideals were of love. now it's all just ice and snow and cold.

which makes romantic fics w her even funnier because she's purposely removed this part of herself and suddenly reader walks into teyvat like they own the place (they do) and I can only imagine her reaction. angry, probably. because why you? what are you doing to her that's caused her hundreds of years of strict adherence to rejecting "love" both from others and to others to just. collapse. absolute shattering of her world and you probably don't even know it bc if nothing else she's good at hiding it. a lot of denial. tries to pick you apart and see what's makes you so different.

and oh she just hates it. she loathes it.

basically one sided enemies to lover trope because she can't stand you for a while but if you stick around she starts warming up to you and it makes it WORSE. so much worse. tries to distance herself but your just everywhere and it gets on her nerves because why does she love you? she isn't capable of love, not anymore. she thought she was.

g-d forbid one of the harbingers or PIERRO notices she'd never live it down. might even consider the implications of just killing you (she doesnt). worse if you know about it and act like a brat she will lose her damn mind

just the tsaritsa being an absolutely horrible mess internally.

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[lovesickeros]

lord its so dark in here the sahara desert of tsaritsa content you are like a shining oasis. your characterisation of her compels me & mihoyo would be hard pressed to top it imo.!! caaaaan i humbly request yr thoughts on her first meeting w a reader of any kind, or maybe even multiple kinds (sagau, sagau god au, isekai, etc) if you so desire...

it really is like a desert here. being the fan of a character we aren't getting until the last damn nation is driving me up a wall but i will persevere bc if nothing else i support morally bankrupt women in media. we r in a severe drought over here but i do my best. unfortunately nothing i say is ever coherent so pull out your translation notes its abt 2 be messy

also this got out of hand but thats bc first meetings w the tsaritsa are tricky to write + a LOT of her characterization lies in deeper exploration then just surface level yknow...NOT A DIG AT YOU this is just my excuse for rambling. gently pats the tsaritsa she can hold so much complexity i do not have the word count to delve into it completely :]

gonna talk cult au for a bit here though because that's 99% of my content. and honestly? she thrives in sub au's of the cult au like villain au + imposter au. it's basically made for her. i mean, early days, the imposter au had been going around for a little while but one of the first few ideas was the Fatui taking reader in so like. it kinda technically actually was. pretty sure cult au Tsaritsa popped up because of the imposter au. a lot of it's writers kinda left though which. man am i getting old or.

anyway.

there isn't much of a chance her first impression is all that positive. at best it's usually neutral, imo, but rarely if ever positive. specifically because i view the Tsaritsa as someone who isn't as fanatical as most of the acolytes typically are towards the creator. she's not exactly going to worship the ground you walk on unlike a certain geo lizard. which is partially why i think she thrives in the sub au's i mentioned.

imposter au, for example. she meets you at your lowest. there's no gaudy extravagance or pampering from the acolytes waiting for you because your own acolytes have turned on you. for all intents and purposes you aren't a "god" at all. which is why i don't think she meshes well with normal cult au reader. the Fatui are made up of outcasts, basically, and imposter au slots right in just perfectly. you're weak, at your lowest, when you meet the Fatui in the imposter au. and the Fatui can help you, too.

a mutual exchange, really. the Tsaritsa sees a tool she can use to one up the rest of the nations and especially Archons, and she has no qualms about you using her and the Fatui in turn. you both want something out of it, after all. whether you just want to be safe from the rest of the acolytes, or you want revenge, or whatever else..she'll give you the power to fulfill it, and she gains the strongest piece on the chessboard when all is said and done.

the best way i can describe the first meeting is "practical", i suppose. she sees an opportunity in you. the ultimate gamble. because if she "saves" you, and you dont trust anyone else because they tried to kill you, well..she holds all the cards, doesn't she?

but the Tsaritsa, imo, is just as capable of being just as fanatical towards you as anyone else. she just won't worship you as the creator. but as yourself? clawing your way back to your divine power and taking back what belongs to you? the Tsaritsa is, to me, a character who's character flourishes in long-term fics more because she changes a LOT between "just met reader" and after having been with reader for some time. she's practically apathetic at the beginning but a lot of her character, in my characterization, shines through LONG after the first meeting.

[lovesickeros]

also I will probably update stuff to make it more clear but requests for drabbles/hcs/whatever is open for the record bc I just realized how vague/nonexistent the status of reqs is on my blog um..🧍

[lovesickeros]

i love the way you write so much the allusions and similes strike such vivid imagery i love it smsmsm

unironically extremely fun to do even as a writing exercise. something so good about creating such a vivid yet vague description that implies something horrifying if you look deep enough kind of vibes. eldritch horror shoved into a paragraph.

[lovesickeros]

can we get some tsaritsa headcanons of yours? specifically appearance wise because i gen don't know how to picture her in my head.

YES because i've thought about it extensively and revised it like 20 times. um. don't expect a full descriptor though i run on Vibes tm

the core of tsaritsa to me is a careful dichotomy of archon of cryo + goddess of love. creating the ideal symbol of love and also frigid and emotionless. of a warrior as much as a leader. Childe speaks of this especially (describing her as a true warrior, arrogant and cold in Childe's delusion story, again with Childe but in his "about Tsaritsa" voice line describing her as gentle, "too gentle"). this is the base of her design, to me.

originally i leaned towards "very tall but very lean" at first but i've kind of leaned in the opposite direction lately. still view her as very tall (inhumanely, even), but i've taken a lot of inspiration from marble statues (and sometimes paintings) as a reference (notably and obviously, aphordite) in terms of body structure with the only exception being i view her with broader shoulders then typically painted/sculpted. facial structure is a different matter, but the general view i have is "angular and sharp" (prominent cheekbones, defined jawline, etc).

to be more specific as well, i tend to make the tsaritsa very colorless. the most color she gets is the occasional shades of blue, but most colors i associate with her are very monochrome in nature. i also use this to create a less "human" appearance for her as a personal hc of mine that the archons are all vaguely Off and not quite human in some manner. i portray this specifically in a few ways (extremely pale skin (to the point it makes her veins a lot more visible), white iris, etc) and a few other things i haven't quite settled on. i've considered the idea of her fingers having a black gradient (similar to arlecchino, in a manner) in reference to severe frostbite.

not quite as necessary to the design but i also just give all the Archons big teef on principle. nothing more intimidating then someone you thought was a funeral consultant flashing a set of teeth that can rip out your jugular with no effort!! +1 to unnerving factor. don't piss off the local mondstadt bard, either. it's a bit unnerving to see them when he's laughing like a madman.

speaking of unnerving, i usually write and view the tsaritsa as very stone faced. like, it could put arlecchino to shame. not a single emotion to be seen. you won't even see her face twitch if she's angry. if she smiles you've royally fucked up and you have roughly 0.2 seconds to live. g-dspeed.

another feature i usually add is claw jewelry because it just Fits. in silver, obviously. and she keeps those things sharp. don't get mistaken by the name she can maim a man with those.

i keep clothing very vague because im not familiar with traditional clothing (ill create a mock-up of a design some day. probably) but one of the core parts of it is the veil. don't think wedding veil, though. even if it's white i imagine it's design more as a mourning veil because it fits more with her character (while weddings are associated with "love", the mourning veil suits her better i think in this regard. delusional made up lore things babey!!!!).