Work Text:
"Scaramouche." Il Dottore kept his usual mysterious air, holding a modified purple Fatui mask, his gloved fingers gently running across its weaved edges. "The weather in Inazuma is lovely these days."
"Shut up," Scaramouche took a seat, defiantly gazing at Il Dottore. "Don't waste my time and get to the point."
"Tsk. I don't like your tone, No. 6." Il Dottore replied, sitting down opposite Scaramouche.
"I was considering letting you join me in developing a particularly strong weapon. Though, given your lack of cooperation, I think I will be forced to abandon that idea."
"Actually," Scaramouche's tune changed to a melodious, curious one. His pitch raised and his voice became much less snappy. "I'm interested. How strong and world-changing is this weapon of yours?"
Il Dottore laid an Anemo Vision on the large wooden table separating them.
"Have you ever wondered why the ability to change elements is reserved for those favored by the cruel Gods ruling this world, while the rest remain restricted, forced to either trade away their lives or mend them around Celestia's choices?"
"I don't care about how these things work," Scaramouche snapped unusually fast — perhaps Dottore's attitude was finally getting on his nerves — "I asked you a question, you didn't answer. If you want to talk about Visions, know that I only care about what they do and how we can destroy that nation of filth with them. I don't need your lectures — I need resources to distribute the Delusions to the resistance faster."
"We might as well abandon that plan. We might as well take control of Ei herself and turn Inazuma into a puppet state. I would appreciate getting the chance to explain everything to you."
Scaramouche seemed to calm down, yet remained in a state of disbelief as he crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, eyes affixed on Dottore. "Sure."
"Thank you. As I was saying — most allogenes only have abilities over one element. Switching to another one would go against the Heavenly Principles, because we know the assignment of Visions is not arbitrary."
Il Dottore laid the modified vizard on the table.
"Switching to another element via a Delusion, going directly against what Celestia intends for you; it takes time — in the form of your life force — and, as experiments show, a resource represented by delusion in itself."
"I don't follow," Scaramouche intervened, letting his hands fall to his side. "How could this help me against Ei? If I force a Delusion on her, she'd just get more powerful; and there's no way she would accept to use one for prolonged periods of time."
"When someone activates a Delusion, the required 'time' — life force — and 'delusion' are manifested into the physical globe of the object itself. This directly affects their strength and mental capacity as the transfer is done."
Il Dottore's digits wandered the periphery of the mask with a surgical precision. "Similarly, when the object is taken away or otherwise deactivated, the 'delusion' is transferred back stronger, as some 'time' has been interchanged while operating the device."
Scaramouche got an inkling of an idea and tries to validate his guess. "Are we going to load up a Delusion with lethal amounts of—— er, 'delusion'— and force it on someone?"
"The 'delusion' fades away from the object when its owner dies. Disabling a Delusion would transfer one's 'delusion' back into their mind. We cannot collect enough 'delusion' — this would not work under any circumstance. It's important to understand what 'delusion' is. If a Vision is assigned and subsequently fueled based on one's 'ambition'..."
Il Dottore reached for his pockets and placed an Electro Delusion opposite the Anemo Vision.
"...so is a Delusion fueled by failed ambition — guilt; denial of fault in arguments, betrayal, and the like; the false hope that something might have gone differently or that something might change for the better; generally, pointless and impossible desires."
Scaramouche growled, laying his palms on the table. "You don't know the first thing about betrayal! You can't blame the victim for what happens to them!"
"Is placing enough blind trust in someone in order to allow betrayal in the first place not 'delusion', No. 6?"
The remark took Scaramouche by surprise. "You're insane, Dottore."
"I am the one presenting the modus operandi of a divinity-purging weapon to my subordinate, and you are not displaying any signs of restraint and professionalism."
"Presenting? You're just rambling on about how Celestia works, how being betrayed somehow makes you the bad guy, and you're stroking that mask with such passion I almost confused it for the Tsaritsa's cock!"
Il Dottore got up, shifting to a condemning tone. "That is more than enough. Take the weapon and go. If you use it incorrectly and knowledge spreads to anyone outside of the Fatui, I will personally ensure you die."
Dottore picked up the Delusions, the notches on their backs matching indents on the edge of the mask, perfectly fitting in order to cover up its eyes. From the wearer's perspective, a chunk of metal would completely cover their view. A quite impractical design, Scaramouche thought.
"Alright, gee. But— Wouldn't giving someone two free Delusions just give them more power in the short term? Am I supposed to wear this myself?"
"You put it on someone and then close the latches — here — which prevents the device from being taken off and activates the cycling mechanism. You do not touch or think of anything that could be considered 'delusion' when near the active device. You do not use this on important public figures or people who have a lot of 'delusion'."
The cycling mechanism. Of course. Finally, Scaramouche understood.
Dottore stood up.
"...Now, get out. I expect you to be done by next week."
"Rude." Scaramouche picked up the mask and left without saying a word, slamming the door behind him.
Waves crashed against the wooden-clad port of Liyue Harbor. The annual Rite of Descension just ended. It was Scaramouche's first — and hopefully only — year in Liyue. He sat near the edge of Yunjing Terrace, watching birds fly past the peaks of the Guyun Stone Forest.
Scaramouche observed the ritual take place. He grinned, holding back both laughter and anger as people wrote down their wishes, illusioned into thinking Morax would care.
Much like the birds eventually stopped their incessant circles and glided away, so did the people and bustling atmosphere scatter when Ningguang of the Liyue Qixing left and the ritual ended.
Just another way for the Gods to stifle human freedom, he thought, watching the last few people leave and an intense red sunset envelop the sea.
He picked up a nearby pebble and threw it towards the endless expanse of the open water. Though from up above he lost sight of it before it fell into the sea, he imagined the satisfying Splash! it'd make upon impact. Maybe it would even be audible down there, to the insignificant merchants working away below the docks.
Food for thought, then, how these who struggled to do honest work got by with scraps — the rest was going towards taxes and debts, after all — while the richest person of Liyue descended from a golden house in the sky to distract the citizens with rituals.
The devotion these people have for Morax saddened Scaramouche. He remembered the Stone Gate he'd once visited, the wind-favored city that lied within — Mondstadt — and the giant statue and cathedral made in Barbatos' image.
Fools... He'd seen — no, he'd felt — first-hand what little compassion the Archons have for ordinary people. How quickly they would betray anyone who wasn't powerful enough to pique their interest. How they'd build entire relationships on nothing but lies and their baseless, abstract ideals, when palpable human beings were right in front of them.
And he had to go through that twice.
And he saw the citizens of Liyue devote their time to Morax, because they were all cowards.
Scaramouche picked up another nearby object — this time, a bigger rock which broke off from the neat tile pattern of the terrace — and tossed it towards the horizon. He hoped it'd hit someone and knock them unconscious. Then he picked up another, flung it all the same and trying to see the individual splash it produced. And another.
"Hey, be careful. You could hurt someone with that." a nearby woman introduced herself as Madame Ping and berated Scaramouche.
"That's the idea, old lady. Go bother someone else."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, didn't you? You don't know a thing about me. You're just here to annoy me with your bullshit."
"Watch your language." Madame Ping's bravery in the face of divine — well, not yet divine, but still — adversity dealt quite a blow to Scaramouche's confidence. "I can sense that you're not human."
This confused Scaramouche, considering how almost no one knew of his true mechanical build.
No one— save for that stupid Archon and his boyfriend. They could somehow sense his lack of a human heart. And yet, those were exceptions — a term that somewhat reminded Scaramouche of himself — as it was expected that a God and someome powerful enough to be his boyfriend could sense what normal people couldn't. So then, why does this random woman have such divine power?
"Regardless, if you're not playing anything nefarious, it shouldn't bother you, dear." Madame Ping turned around, planning to summon her Serenitea Pot, before remembering that Xiao was training in it.
"Too late," Scaramouche grunted as he hurled himself towards Madame Ping, wielding a sharp stone. She turned around and parried using her teapot, causing it to break — both of them fainting as they were transported to a collapsing subspace.
Scaramouche's eyes flutter open. He is surrounded by a dark, cloudy sky. It takes up all his view; eats away at the corner of his eyes. He couldn't feel his hands. Or his legs. He tries to focus. To try and regain his lost control.
The whispers distract him. It doesn't work.
Scaramouche is surrounded by pure darkness. It takes up all his view; eats away at his iris, blinding him to the point of desperation. He couldn't feel his body. He tries to focus. To try and regain his lost soul.
The screaming distracts him. It doesn't work.
Scaramouche isn't.
For a while — both an instant and an eternity, for time does not exist — Scaramouche's soul wanders at the limen between the world and all that is nothing.
That is, until a dark turquoise rift pulls it out of its cruel fate and into what looks like an abandoned cellar.
Scaramouche feels ropes dig into his skin, having been stripped of everything. Even his shorts and undershirt. He'll murder whoever is responsible for this.
He can't see Madame Ping, but he can hear a faint rustle echo behind him. He can't move his head — therefore, neither his viewpoint — so he assumes that she is nearby, waiting to trigger an ambush.
"Fatui."
It's a male voice. It's not that old snake, the thought flows through Scaramouche's mind and brings his guard up. It could be anyone.
"Your silence will only lead to a more painful death."
Scaramouche continues to defy, entrapped in deep thought. He thinks he recognizes that voice. Still, he'd better not jump to conclusions.
"Alright, I'm not silent. Fuck you want from me?" Scaramouche makes sure to show no trace of respect. Respect makes him seem weak. Why would you respect someone if you're not scared of them?
The source of the mysterious voice comes into view. He keeps his back turned to Scaramouche and walks forward, closing ornate white silk curtains on the way. The windows he covered were outlooking a mossy stone wall, glued to the cellar itself.
This puzzles Scaramouche. In the past few moments of consciousness, he fought an old lady, broke her teapot, almost lost his soul through broken time and space. Now, he's nude and bound in a dark underground cellar with windows.
The man has quite the lean build. Scaramouche wonders if he always wears that tight undershirt with that insignificant faded pastel pink accessory on. He'd look much prettier if it was a skirt, anyway. In fact, if Scaramouche wasn't about to kill him and get out of here, he'd probably call him hot. Oh well.
"I want to know what you're doing in Liyue."
The man turns around, holding Scaramouche's clothes — and his signature hat — in one hand. He lays them in a pile on the ground in front of their owner.
"Nothing. I'm just here because I'm bored."
Scaramouche notices small wooden sticks poking out from the pile of his clothes and becomes suspicious. He analyzes the man — who is still hot as fuck — tracing the edge of his chest with his eyes, averting his gaze at the last moment when Xiao's angered glare meets his. He was holding Dottore's mask weapon, and... another one of the small wooden sticks?
"You're lying. And I'll have you know my name is Xiao."
Xiao takes Scaramouche's hat from the mess and brings it near the wooden object he's carrying. He uses a finger to test its surface — each and every one of its textures — and runs the match over one of the more coarse portions, lighting it on fire.
He throws both the lit match and the hat back into the pile, which promptly catches fire, much to Scaramouche's dismay.
"You didn't have to do that!"
"You didn't have to come here and attack Madame Ping, either," Xiao replies. "You're here for a reason."
Xiao threateningly moves right in front of Scaramouche's crotch, crouching down between his legs. He picks up Scaramouche's chin and holds him endearingly, watching him divert his eyes to avoid his gaze. So weak, and cute~
"I'm here because I need to sign a contract with Morax." The only thing on his mind is murder. He'd figure out where to get new clothes later.
"You're not," Xiao's response comes with a gentle tune, unusually melodious for the situation. "Keep his name out of your mouth."
"Ow— The disrespect! I'll have you know that I am a key part in diplomatic relations between Fatui and the Geo Archon. I demand that you let me g~ mmlggh~" Xiao let his middle and index finger slip into Scaramouche's mouth, touching his teeth teasingly and smiling at his grunts of frustration.
"You're no diplomat, you slut," Xiao hunches himself forward, looming over Scaramouche, his back turned against the burning clothes pile.
Though the fire was obstructed from both of their points of view, Scaramouche couldn't say he didn't like the replacement sight more — Xiao being so plump and the shapes his skin-tight shirt revealed were messing with his mind.
"Ngh— oh! You bi— you bitch— GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF MY——" Xiao lets his entire weight fall onto Scaramouche, tumbling both of them on their back. He was strong.
And Scaramouche was quite fond of guys with strong hands.
Maybe a little too fond.
"You're hard." Scaramouche instantly turns flushed. He already had some murderous intent — he didn't need Xiao being such a teasing bitch.
"I can sense you... deeply desiring to be mated. Is that not so, puppet?" Xiao's breathing turns into huffed panting, feeling his body react to his excitement in prominent ways. And Scaramouche might have been eager to reject the offer and somehow kill him, if only the blatant bulge in Xiao's pants didn't pique his interest. He looked big.
"You're such a whore—"
"Answer me. You're the one acting like a bitch in heat here," Xiao seems to not tolerate Scaramouche's antics.
"Mmmh... Go ahead~"
"If you want to be bred..." Xiao raises his knee onto Scaramouche, supporting his hands on his shoulders. "...you'll tell me what this does." He gets up and shows off Dottore's mask.
"It's~ It's a self-hypnosis device. Don't touch it, just touch me. Please~"
Xiao tries to dislodge the Delusions from their slots, but is not succesful. That confirms his erronous theoretical model — the Delusions need to be stuck in place, as to not fall off from their mask after a sudden burst of power. That's different from how they were usually activated. Perhaps the Fatui were experimenting with reducing life force consumption?
"Fatui. What does this really do?"
Xiao's hand wraps around Scaramouche's cock and squeezes, feeling it harden against his palm.
"I told you what it does." Scaramouche might have aleady told the truth, but after his lying streak, Xiao just wouldn't accept it.
"I'll tell you what this really does and what you're really here for. Your superiors need to find a way to either use Delusions without using up life force, or use multiple Delusions at once without increasing consumption. I admit that blocking the wielder's view is a strange decision..."
Xiao flaunts Dottore's mask by Scaramouche's eyes, putting on a smug smile before continuing. "...but your attack on Madame Ping earlier can only confirm my theory. You're here to test the power of multiple Delusions on innocent citizens of Liyue. And, while I normally do not want to influence mortal affairs, it is my duty to protect this nation."
Scaramouche keeps quiet. He's ashamed of himself and his lack of composure, but now, as he is no longer stimulated and can think clearly, he realizes that he's unintentionally thrown Xiao into Dottore's trap.
"You'll die by your own weapon, Fatui scum."
"At least get me off before you kill me."
"..." Xiao is not amused. He summons his Primordial Jade and puts on the trapped Fatui mask, readying himself for the burst of elemental power.
Yet as soon as one of the Delusions activates, it deactivates just as fast, being replaced by the other one. Not even a fraction of a second later the cycle repeats.
It takes less than three seconds for everything to go dark.
When Xiao wakes up, he's in an inn and surrounded by impossibly small windmills, sitting on a chair opposite Morax. A pot of golden millet rests on the table, flavoring the air between them. It's done steaming.
"Alatus... soon-to-be Conqueror of Demons. I take it that you fully agree with the contract."
"Where... am I?" Xiao's voice is softer than he expects it to be, throwing him off guard.
"It is normal for you to feel confused upon experiencing a great shift in quality of life. I am Rex Lapis."
Xiao does not understand what is happening, but he has to keep his composure. "Deus Auri. My savior. Your contract will be enacted hundreds of years into the future. Liyue wil—"
"I trust you, Xiao. Thank you for signing the contract."
"No, Morax, wait—"
"Unbind me." Xiao blinked, and Morax was suddenly tied up with familiar chains — though Xiao couldn't realize why they were so familiar. "Untie me, you fucking whore!"
"Y-Yes, Rex Lapis, My Lord..." Xiao gets up and unties the God before him, applying great strength to not just undo, but destroy the chains themselves.
"What?"
Xiao looks up, ready to ask Rex Lapis what happened, but he realizes that he can't see Rex Lapis. His face seems disintegrated, its contours waving into nothingness. "My Lord...?"
He blinks again, and the man before him is gone. Who was that, anyway? His head hurts. Why was he here? He forgot.
His head hurts. He feels the need to rest.
Someone taps his back. The inn was gone — only the windmills remained, floating in an ethereal space. He could swear he's seen the dark blue starry sky before — in some place called The Void, or something similar. A blonde-haired man called to him. Alatus, he shouted.
"Who are you?"
"I am Aether, a traveller from another world."
"And Paimon is Paimon!"
"Haha, yes, and this is Paimon, my flying companion. We were told you could help us—"
"Leave me alone." Xiao's headache worsens. He doesn't have time for this... Aether. And Paimon. Where was Paimon? She was here a moment ago.
"I love you too, Xiao."
Xiao's eyes open wide— he can almost remember something important— but gods, it all hurts. He still needs to tell Aeneus how much he also— wait, that isn't right. He could swear his name started with an 'A', but it's not quite— wait, that also isn't right. What was he thinking about again? The traveller is but a puff of smoke now, which quickly diffuses in the surrounding air.
Xiao groans and hurls his arms through the fading smoke. That had to be someone important. He could not remember who.
He closes his eyes for a moment. The windmills shifted to occupy a normal amount of space, linked together with a familiar stone paving. Mondstadt.
Oh. And a bard is stuck in statis, endlessly falling in place next to him. He instantly recognizes him as Venti, the mortal vessel of the Anemo Archon. He could swear he knew someone else with the title of Archon. But who was it?
Xiao walks over to Barbatos and holds him. The statis is lifted, and the Anemo Archon falls in his arms. He was very light. And holdable. Very cute, in fact.
"You! I recognize you now. You're the one that stole my boyfriend from me, you asshat!" An unknown voice screams, piercing through Xiao's mind. He feels cold air breeze against his skin as hands desperately claw and scratch at him.
"Wh... Kunikuzushi! Leave him alone! He saved me from falling! We're not together."
Xiao lets the bard — he forgot his name — down to stand up next to him, but he just collapses on the floor. He could hear a flute melody permeate the air, immediately to be stopped by the same screaming he heard before.
"You've been playing that stupid instrument for so long!" The sound of the flute breaking against a rock fills Xiao's ears. "Ever since you met that whore who 'saved you from falling' you have been giving me close to no attention!"
The man wearing green — whose occupation Xiao forgot — fights back. His mouth is not moving, but his voice is yelling all the same. "You're always fighting with me every time I do something that's not giving you attention. You're stressing me out, please just— please just stop—"
"I'll stop when you stop being a cheating piece of shit! You're supposed to be my boyfriend! Do you know what that entails?"
The voices are hurting Xiao's head again. He is alone, with the dark starry sky pressing on him so tight, he can't even see his hands.
"I don't want to know anymore! I can't do this— I'm sorry! Goodbye!"
Are these cries, or are his ears just ringing?
Cries... these sounds... they are used to convey something he believes were called emotions. What were those?
He tries to teleport away from this subspace, but can't. Is it a memory? Is it a dream? Did he just lose his powers? He... who is he?
Xiao is still alive, but he is almost completely lifeless. The only features differentiating him from a dead body were his pulse, heartbeat, warmth, and interactivity. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. It is as if he got his memories wiped, leaving him an empty shell of his past self.
An empty shell that Scaramouche can now fill, much to his and Dottore's delight. The weapon worked. Now, Scaramouche has to somehow get it off.
Scaramouche tries to open the latches locking the mask in place, but they wouldn't budge. He knows there is a way to disable it, but he can't quite find the necessary button. Dottore wouldn't be dumb enough to create a one-time use device of any kind, much less one for offensive purposes.
Wait—
Actually, does he have to disable it now?
Xiao is quite the attractive guy, and Scaramouce wouldn't let such an opportunity pass by like that.
He forces his body up and strips him, starting with the shoulder pads and beads that he takes for himself. They look good on him. The pants are next to go, and Scaramouche doesn't hesitate to hurl them into the pile of his burnt clothes. It isn't even on fire anymore, but the remaining heat in the ashes and the light smoke quickly ruins them all the same.
His undershirt gets taken off next. Scaramouche can't wait to get some free time and drench it in some cum. He is so attracted to Xiao's body, even his clothes by themselves could trigger such desires.
And for good reason — without a shirt, Scaramouche can see Xiao's chest in its full glory. He let his hand grip his muscles, slowly caressing his shoulders.
Then, Scaramouche takes off Xiao's boxers, letting out his — now soft — cock. He gives it a gentle touch — blood courses through it so fast, it can be felt against his hand. Another article of clothing for Scaramouche to ruin later. Why is he so hot?
Scaramouche takes some time to admire Xiao's now entirely stripped body. He gets another idea. He moves Xiao's hands, wrapping them against his back. He also moves his own hands against Xiao's back, interlocking the two in a sort of embrace.
Then, Scaramouche gets on top of him, giving him a gentle kiss and inserting the tip of his cock into his entrance. He is using Xiao like nothing more than a mindless dildo.
And that's what he is now, is he not?
Or is the entire concept of meaningful, bidirectional sexual relationships between him and a braindead object a delusion?
The mask, still cycling and dissipating Xiao's delusions and memories, certainly considers it so, adding Scaramouche to the cycle.
And so, he too falls silent, never to think for himself again.
While Xiao's delusions manifest as negative karma, Scaramouche's delusions are represented by repressed sexual desires, failed relationships and the dominant struggle for power.
And while cycling Xiao's delusions does not directly affect the two, cycling Scaramouche's delusions does.
Breed. The only thought that coursed through both Xiao's and Scaramouche's minds as they fucked like rabbits.
Xiao is on top, pinning Scaramouche to the ground by spreading his hands. And Scaramouche would suffer greatly, being such an obedient, submissive bottom, if only he still had the capavity to suffer.
But the only thing he can do was breed. He desired cock.
A powerful, respectable Harbinger of the Fatui, and the legendary Conqueror of Demons himself— No. They are just two braindead cocksluts. Xiao's body shines in the soft glow of the room — if only Scaramouche wasn't braindead and still able to register the sight, he'd cum in an instant.
But Scaramouche is only able to breed. And so was Xiao, stuck in an endless mating session with an enemy of the nation he so dearly fought for all these centuries. They could now only breed.
And breed they would,
for most of sub-spatial infinity,
the rest of Teyvat's eternity,
and the entirety
of their new reality.