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lovesickeros · 9 days

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☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, violence {☆} word count 0.8k

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #tsaritsa #“eros you left for a month again” yeah.................#anyway. posts tsaritsa fic and leaves #i kept it kinda vague but the fatui are all on your side. whether or not your actually the creator or not though..#now thats up for debate.#did they tamper w teyvat to kill the archons? to break the world to be remade in whatever image they see fit?#using you as the means of their end?#maybe you are the creator and they just saw an opportunity. maybe they are just devoted to you.#i just think lowkey villain au but specifically imposter au where the only ones who side w u r the fatui like OUGH #i love the fatui. them being the only ones 2 side w u is so tasty #prime material for angst bc the self doubt if the only ppl who believe u r the “villains”#a lot of this is just like. tsaritsa posting again though #the tsaritsa who loves so deeply yet cannot love #contradictions all the way down #she loves you but she cannot love you.#she loves you but she will put a dagger between your ribs. she loves you but she is incapable of love #tsaritsa the woman that u r ough #harbingers and their complex relations 2 love my beloved #smth smth tsaritsa seeing an opportunity to install a puppet “creator” which creates a separate imposter!au when the actual creator pops in #did i write this just 2 write tsaritsa being vague and Weird and horrifying and a horror and a lover and just a woman and #yeah :]#please talk 2 me abt the tsaritsa pleas epleas pleas eplease please please please p[lease please pleas

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blood-orange-juice · 2 months

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I keep thinking of how all Harbingers' stories that we know are about love in some way, not lack of love, but it didn't save anyone.

Rosalyne couldn't bring back Rostam no matter how strong her feelings for him were.

Almost everyone who met Scaramouche loved him, and yet he still ended up believing the only person who didn't.

Childe adores his family and they clearly love him back, they are probably the only thing that keeps him somewhat human. Does it help? Not much.

Sandrone, whoever she used to be (we know the story, just not who she was in that story) was born out of the unbearable emptiness that Mary-Ann left.

Maybe the Cryo Archon is just a god of love who understands that love is rarely enough.

#this really makes me wonder about arlecchino #who did she love and was unable to save #childe #tartaglia #sandrone #finding sandrone #scaramouche #that woman #fatui #fatui harbingers #tsaritsa

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pineappleciders · 5 months

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ummm uhhhh ummm uhhhummmm ummm uhhhhhh tsarista design?!?

#genshin impact #the tsaritsa #tsaritsa #cryo archon #genshin impact fanart #fan design

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grymmeoir · 1 year

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Betrayal

#genshin impact #zhongchi #zhongli x childe #childe #zhongli #tartaglia #pulcinella #pantalone #tsaritsa #my art

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sleepyorchidmonster · 5 months

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What if Celestia calls all of the archons to fight the Abyss in the endgame, but also brings Furina along?

I know the title and throne of the Hydro Archon is no more, so this would be more akin to a punishment for Focalors's treason, like "Did you really think you would get away with this?"

Nobody is amused.

The archons make the executive decision to protect Furina (that is literally human and shouldn't even BE in the Abyss). She uses her vision to support and heal, but stays near Venti, Nahida and the other ranged fighters, protected by Zhongli's shield.

Neuvillette's hatred for the Heavenly Principles increases. Fontaine is also very mad.

#genshin impact #furina #neuvillette #zhongli #venti #ei #nahida #murata #tsaritsa

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nyxthejinx · 1 year

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We need more Ragnvindr sibling AU!!! I can't stop thinking about it! Maybe something with the fatuis?

Reader sitting at the Tsaritsa's throne armrest as the Tsaritsa's just treats reader as her own baby (SO cute).

I'm sorry it's been sooo fucking long 😭 but I've spent these months subconsciously thinking about an actual ff with chapters based on this concept, so the brainrot's still real af and will be (I hope)

Referring to this and/or this post about Ragnvindr! sibling!reader

"She is a god with no love left for her people, nor do they have any left for her."

It's basically canon that the tsaritsa threw her heart away in the process of fulfilling her cause, but she still is Goddess of love and what's best than a baby's innocence to remind her the beauty of loving something or someone?

At first she's hesitant, stiff, even. She looks at this miniature human, realises that these creatures' lives are feeble even as they fully develop. How fragile must a kid be in comparison to an adult, though? What if she handles them in the wrong way?

Her interactions evolve in a gradual process, with some of the harbingers' work behind them (someone like pulcinella, maybe?). She learns what can and cannot be done, but most of all feels the ice in her chest melt as seconds go by.

She ends up seeking some time with this creature. She's never felt more alive, willing to dedicate her whole self to them. But she's careful with these feelings, hides them behind the marble walls of her throne room, where she knows no one will barge unannounced.

It's cold though, a frigid, aseptic space, its edges sharp and merciless. And so she sits them on her lap, wraps expensive furs around them, keeps them close in her arms as she entertains that curiousity of theirs with books, wooden toys, and everything else they wish for.

It's so uncharacteristic, to see the Ice Queen smile so warmly, with a tenderness her people would envy if they found out about it.

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers #tsaritsa #tsaritsa Genshin #tsaritsa x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #| Genshin Impact 🌓 |#| Nyx Writes 🌑 |

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classic-art-favourites · 18 days

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Alexandra Feodorovna by Franz Kruger, 1836.

#classic art #painting #franz kruger #german artist #19th century #portrait #female portrait #indoor portrait #empress #tsaritsa #romanov #white dress #fashion

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chocoenvy · 2 years

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Divine Decoration

Sagau!Fatui fic

Warnings: Reader is considered a god, angsty w/ some fluffy moments, minor blood, mentioned/implied drugging

Notes: pspspspspsps come get your food fatui lovers

3.4k words

You were a decoration. You knew that from the moment you met those dull eyes. Even as you were shivering, half dead in the snow there wasn't a hint of emotion in them. As though you were staring at a corpse, or perhaps a doll.

You knew you were merely a decoration when you met the owner of the icy tundra that nearly killed you. Cold and dead, claws uncaringly picking you up by the back of the coat you'd been offered.

The small spark of life still left in your eyes met the Tsaritsa's. Void of any human emotion, she inspected you. Her other clawed hand reaching up towards your face and squeezing your cheeks so hard you cried out in pain. You felt a thin trail of blood seep out of the fresh cut on your face and only then did she let go.

Almost gently her finger ran across the cut, coming away with a thick golden liquid coating her fingers. Your brows furrowed at the color, even more confusion fogged your mind as the imposing Tsaritsa set you down on her thigh.

An unspoken command rang throughout the room as multiple personnel scurried off. You sat there, shivering from the cold and fear, doing your best to remain as quiet as possible. Anything to keep the Tsaritsa from beheading you with her dangerously sharp claws.

Your entire body froze up as her voice rumbled deep within her throat, "Thank you for bringing them to me, Sandrone." You swore the whole palace shook with her voice, or perhaps it was just your shivering.

The supposed Sandrone sure wasn't affected by it, her dull eyes uncaringly meeting the Tsaritsa's as she bowed her head in a respectful nod.

Soon, other figures filtered into the hall. Most of which you didn't recognize but there a certain bright-haired male tumbling into the room that made your eyes widen with recognition.

His eyes, just as dead as the rest of the place, connected with yours and you swore the palace lit up.

Suddenly, everything wasn't as unfamiliar.

Unfortunately for you, the Tsaritsa had noticed how you perked up at the sight of the ginger.

Her hand grabbed onto your wrist, her claws dangerously close to your veins, and raised it up, "Harbingers," She bellowed, and you were dunked right back into icy cold water, shivering like crazy, "Sandrone found them in the snow outside of our palace. They are from another world and our key to victory." Her claws dug into your veins gently.

You hissed and jumped, tugging your wrist away. If it wasn't for the Tsaritsa's iron grip on you, you would've had a long gash down your arm.

Golden liquid trickled down your arm and you could feel the room sobering up. All eyes on the blood coming from your arm.

Normally, you'd be more concerned about the fact that your blood was an abnormal color, however you were so acutely aware of the danger you were in at this moment. The countless faces you didn't know, the danger they reeked.

You were a caged animal, you realized with a start, you no longer had autonomy.

It felt like your whole form had been frozen over with ice, and honestly with the cryo archon holding onto you like this how could you be sure that you weren't?

The whole room was spinning with cheers vaguely reaching your ears. Despite yourself, your eyes caught onto some of the only color in the room, and the only eyes you recognized.

You stared at Childe, completely out of it, the blood having reached past your elbow at this point. He was cheering, you noticed, but as soon as he noticed your stare his victorious smile died.

The Tsaritsa's cold hand wiped away the blood on your arm, letting go of your hand to let it fall back down to your side. Your gaze remained on Childe, because despite how pathetic it was you felt like you'd be swallowed whole by the snow if you looked away from him. He was your only flicker of normality, no matter how dim.

Suddenly, a large hand grabbed a hold of your chin and turned you to face the owner's eyes. As soon as you came into contact with her confusing and gorgeous orbs, you blacked out.

You weren't sure if the stress of the situation had rendered you completely helpless or if they had administered some type of drug to you. Either way, waking up, propped up by a large person(?) while your hair was being done was jarring to say the least.

You pulled away from the giant hand you were being held on and the tiny hands messing with your hair.

You heard an indignant huff before you were being tugged back into place by a lock of your hair.

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!" You whined, your hands moving up to ease the pain.

The lady - who you recognized as the lady who had found you in the snow - lightly swatted your hands away. A dangerous glint in her eyes and a furrow in her brows that sent a chill down your spine.

You clamped your mouth shut and put your hands back at your side, essentially freezing and allowing her to do whatever it is that she was doing with your hair.

You also noticed nearby there were different outfits laid out neatly. There were... a lot of outfits ranging from hyper masculine to hyper feminine and nearly everything in between. The main consistency, though, was that they all matched the lady doing your hair. Down to the most miniscule detail, everything about the outfits was meant to remind anyone looking at it of her.

You felt gentle tugs on your hair, clips and bobby pins being stuck in , it, being twisted and pulled in every direction.

Your lungs were restricted, the air heavy. You so desperately wanted to talk to her, to hopefully relieve some of the tension, but you couldn't force the words out.

After what felt like an eternity she patted down your head and came around to your front to inspect it. She gave a small, self-satisfied smile. She urged the... person (?) over to the vanity. It set you down at the fancy-looking chair, the lady smiling dully behind the chair as you stared into the mirror.

"Looks perfect," She stated, mostly to herself.

You had to say... she did do a wonderful job. Your hair looked stunning to the point you wondered if there was something important about to happen.

You opened your mouth to ask, but you were interrupted with a hand grabbing your chin.

"Except," Her thumb ran over the scar left on your cheek from the Tsaritsa. The lady scoffed, "...so careless."

She sighed and came around to the front of you, bundling up her dress before sitting on your lap. She grabbed some things off of the vanity.

"Heavy or light makeup?" She asked as she worked on covering up the scar.

You stuttered out your answer with embarrassing difficulty which caused her to smile.

The awkwardness was killing you. Being thrown into another world in an unfamiliar nation, only one familiar face you've only seen once, and now this absolutely bizarre situation. All you knew was that she and everyone else in this palace were nothing but danger and assumedly she was a harbinger just like Childe.

So basically: you're fucked. Probably on your way to being executed.

You gathered up all of your nerves and in hopes of alleviating the tension (that only you were feeling), you stumbled out, "M-may I ask your name?" You silently cringed at how you stuttered.

Thankfully, she didn't kill you on the spot. A smile tugged up on her lips, though it didn't meet her eyes, "Sandrone you may call me."

"Oh," Your eyes lit up in recognition, "The Tsaritsa said your name during the... thing."

"She did."

"Well, nice to meet you, Sandrone." Your entire body still shook along with your quiet voice. Your face hot with embarrassment at how she no doubt felt and saw your shivering.

She hummed, still hard at work touching up your face, "And what's your name, doll?"

You sucked in a cold breath, "(Y/n)." You squeezed you hands tightly, her voice intimidating and cold.

Sandrone thought to herself for a moment before nodding, a hand gently grabbing your chin as she inspected your face, "A pretty name for a pretty doll."

The words sent an unpleasant chill down your spine.

Another indication that you were merely a decoration.

Sandrone had allowed you to pick out any of the various outfits, and finally gave you a full fluffy coat to burry yourself in. Afterwards, however, she fiddled with the accessories for a long time. Having you stand until your legs ached, a whine clawing out the back of your throat as she fiddled with bows and ribbons for what felt like an eternity. The whole time you heard her mumbling under her breath, something about your otherworldly-ness.

You swore you had to have been standing there for hours until at long last she pulled away, satisfied. She dragged you over to a full length mirror, a snake-like grin staining her usually flat face. Your bewildered eyes met your own in the mirror. You looked like a...

"A perfect doll." Sandrone crooned, hooking her arm around yours.

A perfect doll. Perfectly matching her.

Apparently you were dressed up for a special occasion as after you were all dolled up Sandrone ushered you to sit on the... thing's hand while she sat on the other hand.

You were too afraid to ask where you were going, so you remained quiet, curiously looking around at the wonderous palace. Tightly gripping onto the coat you were given, wrapping it snug around you.

For the first few minutes of the walk, there were no signs of life in the massive halls. However, soon the halls were crawling with servants and guards. Fatui members you recognized as mobs that were now parting for the two of you, bowing their heads in respect as Sandrone passed them by. Not meeting her (or your) eyes.

Your lips pressed themselves into a frown, a worried crease in your brows. These powerful enemies were so scared of the person next to you... another shiver wracked your body.

Eventually, the two of you made it in front of two large doors, larger than some houses you were sure. You gaped up at their sheer size, the two Fatui agents beside them rushing to open them.

You gasped at the table, full of Fatui and at the very head of the table...

it was empty..?

The thing carrying you and Sandrone stopped right in front of the head chair. You stared at it blankly, then turned to glance at Sandrone curiously.

She gestured towards it. You stared at her curiously but still hoped off the thing's hand. You nodded in thanks up at it before realizing it... probably didn't understand the action or even cared.

The thing walked away, and stood at a gap in between seats.

"Sandrone, you're late." You jumped at a man's deep voice. A mask covering half of his face, he looked later on in his years with a beard. He sat at the immediate left of the head seat, the chair on the right was empty and huge.

"I got here before the Tsaritsa, that's all that matters," She answered smoothly, "Besides, I was making sure our dear (Y/n) looked perfect."

You suddenly felt eyes turn to your still standing form, embarrassment burned you from head to toe and you tried your best to hide in the expensive fur coat.

Suddenly, the large doors opened once more and the gorgeous woman that had revealed your now golden blood stood staggeringly tall in the doorway.

The entire table, with nine people not including yourself, stood up and bowed. You scrambled to copy their actions, not wishing to incur the cryo archon's wrath.

"Rise," Her baritone voice commanded.

Everyone in the room obeyed, the other people in the room sat back down at their seats. You whipped your head around, silently panicking about where you should sit. There was the chair at the head of the table and chair to the right of it. While you weren't the best at etiquette, you were pretty damn sure those were seats for important people.

As the Tsaritsa approached, your heart was beating out of your chest and your feet glued to the ground. Your heart ready to run but your brain frozen over and sticking you to the ground. Rendering you utterly helpless with hot tears pricking your eyes at how much you were panicking. You shut your eyes, awaiting your head to be chopped off or perhaps worse.

You jumped at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, your eyes snapped open and met with the Tsaritsa. She gestured to the chair she'd pulled out. The chair at the head of the table.

Your eyes flickered back and forth from the chair to the Tsaritsa back and forth again and again.

"What?" You responded lamely.

"Sit," She rumbled.

"I-I-" You stuttered, but one look at her eyes, cold and unwavering, you ducked your head and heeded her orders.

She pushed your chair in and sat to the right of you on the large chair. You felt so... odd sitting at the head of the table. You got a good view of everyone there, all of them staring at you.

This all begged the question of what the fuck was going on.

You didn't have time to think, break down, or ask questions just yet as the Tsaritsa clapped her hands together. A line of people came out of seemingly nowhere, carrying plates and trays of food. In a minute the table was filled with mouth-watering food and cups placed with a clear liquid.

It took everything in you to heed caution and not eat everything immediately, though the scent alone was making you salivate.

You sat there, dumbly, for a minute or so. Your brain completely out of it as everyone else continued with their meal. Except for the Tsaritsa. The entire time she observed you, sitting there stock still.

You clutched the coat tightly, sucking in a brave breath before finally finally asking the question that's been ringing in your head, "What is going on?" Action ceased in the room and you realized your voice was a lot louder than you had intended. Your desperation seeping in and breaking down your restrictions, hot tears pooling into your eyes and blurring your vision.

You sucked it up and kept it in, refusing to let any of the tears slip. You dug your nails into your palm, using the pain as a distraction.

The Tsaritsa sighed, "You were transported here from your world. You would use some vision wielders as your vessels, the Traveler as your main vessel. Do you remember that?"

You nodded, "Yes but... but that was just a game. I wasn't- this isn't-" You pursed your lips, barely able to keep yourself from screaming in frustration, "This isn't real."

The Tsaritsa frowned in frustration, "Do I need to show you your gold blood again? I would've thought the first two times were enough."

You unconsciously sunk further into the large seat, "No... just... I just..."

Once again your eyes had met with Tartaglia's. Dull, blue and deep, empty and void they were an odd comfort but they were familiar. You'd stared into his eyes curiously many times, curious about his past, what caused the dullness. Curious as to his many thoughts.

And now you were doing the same thing, only without a screen between you two, and he was breathing. Real and right in front of you.

It made you so dizzy.

"Why are you treating me like this?" You questioned, quietly this time, gesturing to the clothes you were given and the chair.

"Well, you're from another world aren't you?" The Tsaritsa reasoned, "Surely, that makes you divine in some way, don't you think?"

"Divine?" You echoed, your jaw slackened with shock, "I'm not divine."

"Then what of your golden blood?" You whipped your head to the man on your left, "You looked just as shocked as the rest of us by it. In this world, you are divine. With a greater power over its people. You've possessed Tartaglia before, have you not?"

"Possessed..." You muttered, not liking the feeling of the word, "I have but I never thought... it was that important."

"It was!" Childe exclaimed, "Everyone you take control of, everyone you give your divine gaze feel so very important. You gave me power I hungered for, how could we not assume you to be divine?"

Your gaze swept over everyone in the room. You, at the head chair of the Zapolyarny palace, where the Tsaritsa usually sits. The red blood in your veins now golden and the title of god hanging above your head.

You pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face in them. You felt like you were gonna throw up.

"Come now," The Tsaritsa tapped your head, pushing your head back some with a singular finger, "Eat your food. Don't make me feed you myself."

Your face heated up with embarrassment before you slowly picked up your fork. Without being presented much of a choice, you carefully ate the food.

You finished rather quickly, you didn't have much of an appetite anyways. You quietly observed the other harbingers interacting, they were... rather joyous. Almost as though this were a celebration...

was it?

Your eyes caught onto Tartaglia and a white haired woman next to him with odd eyes. They were downing an odd liquid over and over - you weren't sure what it was but considering the fact they seemed to be competing you had a good guess.

You couldn't help the smile that lit up your face, a small laugh exiting your throat.

"What's got you smiling like that?" The Tsaritsa asked, raising a curious brow.

You chuckled, "Classic Childe behavior."

He didn't hear you from all the way across the table, however the Tsaritsa certainly was ammused.

"They're always like this with celebrations, so don't mind them." She waved them off, "I'm a bit surprised that you're not joining them though, Columbina."

A small girl, with her eyes closed and a cloth with cut out diamonds covering them smiled, "I want them to have fun with the celebration today. If I were to join they'd both lose and wouldn't remember that (Y/n) is even here."

"Oh? But I'm sure (Y/n) would love to see you in action," A man with wavy hair and glasses said.

He had the same fake smile as Columbina.

"Hm? Perhaps, though I think it'd be much more amusing if you were to join don't you think?" Columbina retorted, "They could see you rush out in the morning. That'd be truly amusing don't you think."

"I find it concerning that you find the depletion of the money reserves amusing."

Fatui humor sure is odd, you thought to yourself.

You nearly recoiled when your eyes met another masked figure. Though he had both his eyes covered completely, it still felt as though he were looking at you. Something tickled the back of your brain, urging you to remember something.

And that's when it hit you.

"Dottore." You snapped your fingers, "You're Dottore."

The conversation paused as eyes turned to you, cautious and wary, you felt the air stiffen as they watched you like you were a wild animal.

The man hummed, "I am. I'm surprised you know me."

"You..." You trailed off, the reality of the situation hitting you once more.

You were surrounded by the Fatui. Tartaglia is a familiar and somewhat friendly face, it was funny watching him and his rivalry with that one person.

But you can't forget who you're with.

The Fatui don't care for the methods they use, they'll obtain their goal through any means. And as they had said you were apparently divine. With you under their thumb their plans would no doubt become a whole lot easier.

You were a tool for them, a pretty decoration in their possession.

"I..?" Dottore urged you to continue.

You hurt Collei. You bit back the words.

"You look different. It's better." You blinked innocently.

It seems even he was surprised by your words, "Hm, I suppose I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you, (Y/n)."

You gripped the coat tightly, going back to observing.

You wanted to see your characters.

*~*~*~*~*

General taglist: @nevermore-69 @heavenlyfloof

#sagau #genshin self aware au #genshin cult au #fatui harbingers #tsaritsa #sandrone #someone save me im obsessed #this.... might become a series #and by might i mean i haven't included everything i want to but i wanted to get this out of my drafts as soon as possible #so here have your harbinger content

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sparksly-mage-of-light · 5 months

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I'm bored so I'm sharing a Genshin headcanon:

If Childe really is the only Snezhnayan-born harbinger, I think he might secretly be the Tsaritsa's favorite.

Part of this is because, from a narrative standpoint, it would make sense for the first harbinger we meet with direct ties to the abyss to be really important to the Snezhnaya chapter.

Most of it is about Childe himself. If none of the other harbingers are from Snezhnaya, then that makes him the de facto representative of the Snezhnayan people. He is the result of everything the Tsaritsa has done to/for her people. He is the monster she created. If she has any affection for her people, she has to care about him. (Yes, I think Dainsleif is wrong about her having "no love left for her people, nor do they have any left for her." Childe is wholly devoted to her, and Wanderer says she has a reputation for being kind and benevolent.)

I also like to think that, in the same way Childe looked into her eyes and gained respect for and understanding of her, the Tsaritsa could have looked into his eyes and gained an understanding of him and how the abyss changed him like the cataclysm changed her (although that plays more into my idea that the Tsaritsa might have the same dead, no highlight eyes thing that Childe and Skirk have going on).

It's also just funny to think about the Tsaritsa spending centuries gathering a group of incredibly powerful people from around the world, only for her to see this chaotic ginger twenty-something with ideas of world domination and thinking "Blorbo from my nation."

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #childe #tartalgia #tsaritsa #genshin tsaritsa #fatui #Childe may mean young lord but he is her child

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ballads-of-breeze · 6 months

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I really think the catalyst for the Tsaritsa’s fight against Celestia is going to have been the death of a family member. Her god of love epithet probably refers more strongly to familial love just look at the majority of cryo characters

#although rather than love. most of the examples have complicated relationships to their family #shenhe’s dad tried to sacrifice her #rosaria wasn’t treated well by the bandits that raised her but the chief set up his own death at her hands so she would survive #and don’t even get me STARTED on kaeya #but ayaka got her vision bc she wanted to support her brother and diona got hers while saving her dad !#mine #rambles #genshin #tsaritsa

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lovesickeros · 2 months

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☆ from gold, i am undone

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, implied self harm, implied suicide attempts {☆} word count 0.9k

You weren't meant to be here.

You can feel it in the marrow of your bones– it weighs you down like heavy shackles, gold bleeding from your pores until it is all you know. The taste of ichor on your tongue, the warmth of its invasion beneath your skin, that gleam of gold that lingers in the color of your eyes like specks of dust.

You are changed, and you are whole.

But you are so unbearably broken.

A shattered piece of porcelain hastily put back together with gold to fill the cracks.

Decoration, in the end, for you are not fit to walk as "mortals" do. This gold had filled every empty crevice of your body, spilled the red into your frantic hands and made you bleed so it's callous gold could make room inside your body. It has taken from you many things, given many more, but you scratch and bite and tear until it drips onto the floor and even then it never leaves. It stains the floor no matter how hard you scrub– a permanent reminder of the sickening gold that molds you into something that used to look like you– that does look like you. Desecrated, yet so horribly divine.

All you see is a monster.

Something new, something old.

A hollowed out shell, wounds left to rot and fester until you suited the image of the Creator they bore upon statues and murals, the Creator worshiped in prayers spoken in hushed whispers and joyous chants praising your magnificence.

But what magnificence is there in detachment? What joy is there to be found in carving a God out of a human? They kneel like lambs before the shepherd, but the flock has made you– and you want to unmake them. Unweave the tapestry of their being stitch by stitch until it all falls apart and the world knows the cost of casting molten gold into the shape of a human, knows the price that has been left unpaid.

You want to take it from them. Watch them squabble and pray, blind sheep stepping into the wolf's open maw– to tear the seams of their being until the world is unwound by your heavy hands.

But you know it will not satisfy you.

Nothing does anymore.

You are no wolf. Only the shepherd who guides.

And with every drop of blood spilled, they ripped the humanity from your very bones until your body was the cast in which they made something anew– something gold, something horrific. A monster as much a God, a beast as much a man.

There is nothing left but absolute authority.

You try again and again to mend this act of desecration, to peel back the outer shell and rend the gold from your marrow– but your body cannot, will not, die. It mends itself back into place no matter how damaged, and all you feel is the uncomfortable tug of your body forcing itself to live. You cannot die, but were you ever truly alive at all?

Yet with every cycle, you know only one constant besides the thrum of golden ichor in your veins– cold.

Ice that burns, ice that spreads and festers and devours. Claws that pull you apart until the gold runs thick, teeth that burrow into your bones and rip it out from the source..eyes that witness the fall of a God with reverence– hungering, all consuming reverence.

You welcome it.

It is the first time you felt pain since you were cast into an image of a being you were not meant to be. The sting of cold upon your skin makes you shiver, your body tries to reject it, but you want to welcome it– for a brief moment that lasts only as long as it takes for you to blink, you see the glint of something familiar in the reflection of her empty eyes. Something achingly, horribly familiar– something human, all the more terrifying for it.

Even when Teyvat itself crumples like paper beneath the weight of her sins – of this desecration anew, this wretched heresy – you allow her hands to do it again. You grasp her hands in yours like chains, willing her to shackle you, willing her to pull you apart and make you whole again. To break you until the gold cannot put you back together again.

You long, each time, for those eyes like spears that lodge into your skin– burrow deep and sting deeper, making gold flow like water. You long for the biting tongue, the cutting words and those teeth like weapons– long to see the spite and anger and impure disgust aimed at the woman of silver who leads you down a hall that ends only in damnation. You follow each time like the lamb led astray by the wolf, but you do not wail in betrayal when she sinks her teeth into your throat and devours you whole.

For is it a sin if you welcome it? Has their God sinned, in the eyes of the flock, for welcoming such heresy with open arms? For allowing the wolf into their home?

Is it a sin to be broken beneath the only hands that have loved you?

Is it a sin to want to love, too, those hands and teeth stained in gold?

Then you shall be damned, you swear it. Damned, but gold no more.

For death is the closest you have ever felt to being human.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #tsaritsa #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #tsaritsa x reader #this is. technically not a sequel but not a prequel but a secret third thing (mental health crisis)#kidding i just wanted 2 write the prev fic from more reader oriented pov bc it wasnt fucked up enough!!!!!#i need fucked up reader who is irreparably changed in horrifying ways!!!!!! and they cant die bc teyvat kinda needs them 2 uh #exist at all. and if u die well thats it. hits reset button #the horrifying fate of a mortal forced to be a god against their will and all the drawbacks that come with it #where is love to be found when they all cannot see themselves as anything but beneath you? there will always be imbalance #oh they try. they claw and scramble and beg but being the creator has changed you.#none of their worship. none of their sacrifices and gifts and pleas make you feel a thing and what a haunting thing it must be #do they reject it? delude themselves into thinking that they must try harder?#or do they accept that this is a god? absolute. horrifying in its entirety. something that even the archons cannot truly understand #a manmade god who seeks absolution in only the most heretical. the most blasphemous #literally shaking chewing on the bars of my cage LET ME OUT #i love deep dives like this sorry 2 everyone i made think i was normal my bad #i just think immortality and godhood r funky concepts and i love making them WORSE #also this took so long because i was playing b@Idurs g@t3 3 erm. censored so it doesnt show up in tags PLEASE DONT SHOW UP IN TAGS #taking i need the tsaritsa to bite me to a whole new entirely worse level!!#i just think (starts talking for 5 hours straight and doesnt Shut Up)#this one is also. considerably more openly fucked up then the other fic. even if its hidden behind flowery language uh. take it seriously.#okay im done no more angst its fluff from here on out i need 2 be NORMAL. i am a normal well functioning adult. maybe.

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