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Genshin Wanderer - Blog Posts
Telling Scara you love him so much while cradling his face with tears pouring out of ur eyes.
Wanderer is the type of guy to hate PDA, despises it, would spit on it if he could, but when it comes to you? He doesn’t mind as long as you’re happy, he likes seeing your smile.
Wanderer is the type of guy to genuinely let you use his hat as an umbrella, pressed up against him as rain falls around you, his face bright red and turned away from you.
Wanderer is the type of guy who doesn’t get sick at all, puppet things, and when you’re sick he doesn’t fully know what to do, so he will always go to nahida or tighnari and hesitantly ask what to do.
Wanderer is the type of guy who used to think crying made you weak, so when he saw you crying infront of him, he was confused why he also felt sad and somewhat happy knowing you felt that comfortable around him.
Wanderer is the type of guy to carry you places, I’m not kidding, he’ll fully pick you up bridal style and use his vision to take you to your destination, even if it’s all the way in mondstatd.
Wanderer is the type of guy to be so utterly concerned when you choose his name, not in a genuinely worried way, but in a way that screams ‘wtf’
“How do you feel about Babygirl?”
“I beg your pardon? Is that even a name?”
“Ok then..cumslut!”
“IM SORRY?!”
angy hat boi go brrr ♡
Wanted to try something different
Just a question out of curiosity: What drew you in to SethoScara?
I don't get why people in the genshin impact community gets so mad when people say the characters look like children, like yes, Venti, Wanderer, Lyney and Freminet look like children I'm pretty sure the last two are meant to be teens 😭 Venti is quite literally in the form of a young boy they are supposed to look like children
"I'm gonna make a world like no one else and it's gonna be yours and nobody can take it, nobody can take it back from you and it's gonna be good"
Reading 📕
One of the variations for a wallpaper I made a looong time ago for the Nahida and Wanderer zine
i know that wanderer canonically hates dango but it would be funnier if he loved it so im choosing to ignore canon. he loves dango now. makes it everyday. shares it with nahida.
Traveler: Why are you a history major?
Wanderer: The failures of men amuse me.
its still so fucking funny how wanderer went from a feared fatui harbinger who almost became a god to a college student
So I had a thought…
Visions are the results of strong ambitions. So what if delusions are twisted versions of ambitions? This would explain why they give the same power as a Vision would but with the risk of it backfiring. Only someone as delusional as the ambition contained within it would be able to harness its full power, like the Harbingers.
Here’s an example: Wanderer wanted to have a heart and become a true human. This was his pure ambition. But it was warped into a delusion in which he believed he was a god. When he realized his delusion wasn’t reality and he embraced his true ambition, he was awarded with a Vision.
Actually, that kinda reminds me of the crowned heir from the Gnostic Hymn. Dainsleif did say that coincidences don’t exist in Teyvat…
Melody of the Forgotten
The grand opera house of Sumeru City was the jewel of the nation’s artistic world, a towering edifice of stone and glass, alive with music and drama. Its stage had seen performances that transcended the mortal plane, and its corridors echoed with the whispers of stories long forgotten. You had been drawn to it from a young age, captivated by the splendor of the performances, the allure of the music, and the dream of one day performing on that hallowed stage yourself.
And now, that dream was within reach. You had been accepted into the opera’s prestigious company, your voice singled out as one with great potential, a rising star in the world of song. The opera house had become your second home, its backstage corridors a maze of opportunity and challenge.
But there was another presence in the opera house, one that the performers rarely spoke of—at least, not aloud. There were stories, rumors whispered among the stagehands and the older performers, of a phantom who haunted the opera house. He was said to be a master of disguise, a shadowy figure who could slip between worlds unseen. His moods were as tempestuous as the sea, his emotions unpredictable as the wind. He was both feared and revered, his influence felt in every corner of the grand theater.
No one had ever seen his face. And those who claimed to know more often spoke in cryptic tones, as if afraid to say too much. Some said he wore a mask, hiding some hideous deformity, while others claimed that he was a spirit—an echo of an ancient, forgotten soul who could never rest.
You had dismissed these stories at first, focusing instead on your training. But soon, you began to notice strange things—small, unsettling signs that you were not as alone as you once thought. At times, you would catch a fleeting glimpse of a figure in the wings, watching your rehearsals. Doors that had been locked would mysteriously open, and you would hear faint whispers in the corridors when you were sure you were alone. Most unnervingly, though, you began to find letters—perfectly folded pieces of parchment, slipped under your dressing room door.
The first letter had been a simple compliment: “Your voice is like the first breath of dawn—pure, yet aching with potential. Do not waste it.” It was unsigned, written in an elegant hand, but you had a suspicion it was from the phantom.
From that point on, the letters became more frequent, sometimes offering advice on your performances, other times cryptic messages that left you pondering their meaning for hours. And slowly, you began to realize that the phantom, whoever he was, had taken an interest in you—an obsession, even.
One evening, after a particularly demanding rehearsal, you lingered on the stage, watching as the candles in the chandelier flickered, casting long shadows across the empty seats. The house was quiet now, the other performers having retired for the night. You stood alone in the vast, echoing space, your heart still pounding from the intensity of your singing. You could feel eyes on you, though you saw no one.
"Why do you hide in the shadows?" you called out, your voice barely above a whisper, yet confident.
There was no immediate response, but you could sense something shifting in the air. Then, from the darkness of the wings, a figure stepped into the dim light—tall, with a slender frame and an air of theatricality about him. His face was obscured by a half-mask, covering the right side of his face, leaving only his left eye visible, cold and calculating.
It was him. The Phantom.
Or rather, Scaramouche.
He was known by many names—the Balladeer, the Wanderer, the Sixth Harbinger—but here, in the shadows of the opera house, he was the phantom. His movements were precise, his posture one of practiced elegance, as though every step was part of an unseen performance. His dark hair framed his mask, and though his lips were hidden in shadow, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you.
"You're brave," he said, his voice smooth and velvety, with a hint of danger lurking beneath. "Most would flee at the mere mention of me. But not you."
Your breath caught in your throat, but you refused to look away. "You’ve been watching me."
He tilted his head slightly, a slow, deliberate gesture that sent a shiver down your spine. "Yes," he admitted, with no hint of apology. "Your voice—it is unlike anything I’ve heard in years. Pure, yet raw. It needs... guidance."
His words hung in the air, and you felt a strange mixture of fear and fascination. Scaramouche was as much a part of the opera house as the stone pillars and velvet curtains, and now he stood before you, a living mystery wrapped in enigma and shadow.
"I don’t need your guidance," you said, though your voice trembled just slightly. "I’ve made it this far on my own."
He chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Is that what you think? Do you believe you’ve come this far through sheer talent alone? No... you’ve had help—whether you knew it or not."
His words sent a chill through you. "What do you mean?"
Scaramouche’s visible eye gleamed with amusement, and he took a slow step closer. "I’ve been behind the scenes, pulling the strings. I have arranged for you to be noticed by the company, whispered in the ears of those in power. Without me, you would still be singing for an empty hall. You owe me... everything."
Your mind raced, trying to comprehend what he was saying. Had he been manipulating your career from the start? The realization struck you like a cold wave of fear and anger.
"I didn’t ask for your help," you said, your voice firmer now, though your heart was pounding.
He laughed again, this time with more cruelty. "No. But I gave it nonetheless. And now..." His eye darkened, his tone shifting to something far more possessive. "Now you belong to me."
The finality in his voice left no room for argument, and for the first time, you felt the weight of his obsession settle over you. You had always thought of him as a distant figure, a myth that haunted the opera house, but now, here he was—real, tangible, and far more dangerous than you had imagined.
"What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Scaramouche’s gaze lingered on you, his eye narrowing slightly as if assessing your every thought. Then, in a swift motion, he moved closer, his gloved hand reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"I want your voice," he said softly, but there was a dark hunger in his tone. "I want it to sing only for me. I want to shape it, control it, make it perfect."
You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his fingers cold against your skin. "You don’t understand," he continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, almost tender. "I have waited so long for something... someone... who could complete my music. I’ve seen mediocrity, incompetence, but you... you are different."
His obsession was suffocating, the intensity of his words sinking into your bones. You could feel the weight of his desire pressing down on you, and for the first time, you understood the full extent of his control.
"I’m not your puppet," you said, your voice shaking with fear and defiance.
Scaramouche’s lips curled into a cruel smile beneath his mask. "No... you’re not. You’re something far more precious. But make no mistake—you are mine."
The candlelight flickered as his words echoed in the empty opera house, and you felt the walls closing in around you. You were trapped in his web, caught between fear and fascination, between a desire to run and an inexplicable pull that kept you rooted in place.
"I can make you a star," he said, his voice turning soft, seductive. "I can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Fame, fortune... all of it. All you have to do is sing for me."
You hesitated, the temptation of his offer gnawing at the edges of your resolve. There was something irresistible about his words, something that made you want to believe him, to trust him.
But deep down, you knew the truth. Scaramouche was no savior. He was a phantom, a manipulator, a creature of shadows who sought to control you for his own ends.
"You don’t control me," you said firmly, stepping back from him.
For a moment, Scaramouche’s smile faltered, his eye flashing with anger. But then, just as quickly, the mask of calm returned.
"Perhaps not yet," he said softly, though his tone carried an unmistakable threat. "But in the end, you will sing for me. Because there is no one else who understands you like I do. No one else who can bring out the true potential in your voice."
He stepped back, his form blending into the shadows once more, his presence as ghostly as ever.
"You will sing for me," he repeated, his voice lingering in the air as he disappeared into the darkness. "Sooner or later... you will."
The opera house was silent once more, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a curse. And as you stood alone on the stage, you knew that your fate was now intertwined with his, bound by the melody of his obsession.
My take on this challenge
Poison Ivy has had so many costum and character designs that I just decided to make my own, so hope you like it, even if you can't see it very well
Maybe I should have switched Lyney and Mitsuba, but I like it like this as well
hello scaranation
i present to you my beloved ☂️🫶
like this video plz ↓↓ thank u 🙏
bleehhhhhhhhhh
i love scaramouche
wip muahahauahahhaa
ur mom ahahahahahaahaha (steven universe reference 🩷)
hello tumblr people
i keep forgetting tumblr exists
singer au scara yay
i forgot to post hello tumblrians or whatever you call tumblr people
here's beloved in his demo ;;;;
Made this smut and almost forgot to finish it! I finally finished it and I'm excited to show my Smut SoulMate @hitomisuzuya ✨❤
⚠Warnings⚠:Degrading, slight praise, yandere themes, possessiveness.
The Wanderer was a mysterious man, nobody knew where he came from or who he really was however he had a charm to him that no one has been able to replicate.
Of course you've asked the traveller about him because being the curious person you are you had to see if he somehow knew something, all he said was that his real name was 'Kuni' and nothing else. Strange but it's better then calling him wanderer all the time.
You are an adventurer who's seen quite a bit and now that you've found a new interest to look into you decided to track down the Wanderer. You didn't even know why you wanted him to tell you his real name though. Maybe it will help you in some way. After all people usually told you things they'd rather not say out loud so maybe this guy would be different.
So here you were, trudging through the Sumeru woods to find this elusive traveller of yours.
You soon found the man and who was with him? The Fatui, it seems they was asking him for something, well more like trying to push whatever answers they wanted from him. Yet he didn't seem bothered by them, his arms crossed as he huffed, throwing remarks at the agents. It wouldn't take long for the agents to run out of patience and attack, however the Wanderer fought back effortlessly and seemingly knocked the Fatui down as if they where nothing but mere slimes. Your eyes widen at this, he's so much stronger then you expected, he turned towards where you hidden behind a tree "Come out, I know you're there, I would be a fool to not notice such a bumbling idiot following me" He hissed as you shyly stepped out, you didn't expect him to catch on so soon.
The Wanderer smirked at your reaction, "Oh I've been watching you since you've arrived here"
Your eyebrow raise up "And you haven't done anything?" He chuckled before answering in a teasing tone "You're not a threat to me, I've dealt with much worse, but now I must be going so stay out of my way" he said starting to walk off, you ran up and tried to grab his shoulder, anything to prevent him from leaving, you just found him, he can't just leave! However he caught your wrist with his hand before your hand could reach his shoulder and turned with a cold glare
"I thought I told you to stay out of my way, what could be so important? Speak" he commanded, you shivered and gulped.
"Im Y/N and just wanted to get to know you better, you.. interest me" you admitted as he only looked you up and down for any signs of lying or something out of the ordinary. Letting go of your hand he crossed his arms once more
"What about me interests you huh? " he asked curiously, you shifted under his gaze, how is he doing that? You wonder?
"Well," you started, taking a deep breath "You seem very strong and skilled for someone who I haven't seen around, I've been to many places and met many people, how come I don't know you? " You asked getting some confidence only for it to fall through at his cruel laughter.
"You just don't know everything, you don't need to know everything in that puny head of yours, what's with you mortals and wanting to know all anyways? " he said flicking your forehead with a Huff. You rubbed it with a pout "Hey, don't be mean"
"Who said I was mean? Besides, if you truly want to know you'll learn eventually." he said nonchalantly "Now enough of your questions and leave me alone, you should start heading home if you don't want to get lost in this awful forest" yet again you reached out to grab him but this time he didn't stop you as your hand reached his, truly you meant to grab his wrist but aimed a bit too low. Now hand in hand the man didn't look back right away, only shuffling his hat slightly to hide his face.
"you're really annoying you know that? Fine you can camp with me but don't try anything.. " he then growled and snatched his hand away, you then seen the slight blush that coated his face "And stop fucking touching me" Was your eyes deceiving you? Did you see a bit of electro spark? No he's an Anemo user, he wouldn't be able to use it.. Right?
He snapped before stalking away in a huff, leaving you baffled and confused. Was that just an act? Or really blushing from embarrassment? Who cares anyway. What matters is that you got the opportunity to talk more and the Wanderer didn't try and kill you... yet. Oh yeah that part still bothers you..but you try not to think on it much.
You both set up camp in a small clearing as it seemed the Wanderer didn't want to sleep while you was still awake, of course you wanted to talk more but silence fell between you two.
"Can't sleep or something? " he asked glaring over, he didn't seem tired at all, does he sleep?
"Well..i kind of wanted to talk more before we do" you said as his eyes never left your form, it was almost like he was analyzing you.
"seriously? do you ever give things a rest? " he asked and sighed as he got closer and pinned you down onto the ground causing you to yelp slightly "I know what you're up to, I can see it in your eyes, doesn't take a genius to see you craving me" he said arrogantly, sure you thought he was quite handsome but you didn't expect him to know or to make a move!
"if I indulge in your petty lust will you finally leave me alone? " he asked raising his brow as he leaned down to meet your lips softly. You eagerly kissed back, he pushed away from your mouth with a smug smirk "See? I was right" he laughed lightly and took a step backwards as he sat on his makeshift bed, you stared after him, feeling conflicted on what to do. This man was frustrating.
Pushing you against the makeshift bed, his lips connect once more with yours, he lead the dance of lust, his tongue dominating yours. As he licked into your mouth he grinded down harshly making you squirm slightly. You gasped when he pulled away, staring at you "I knew you were a virgin but did you honestly think that I couldn't tell the difference between a woman and a girl? " he chuckled darkly.
This made you blush furiously "W--Whats that supposed to mean?? " You said flustered as he only chuckled once more before pulling and ripping some of your clothing to get them off in a hurry "Just means I'll be the first to shape you, to make you perfect for me and me only" his voice had a hint of possessiveness, strange for a man who previously claimed to want to be alone.
Though he wasn't entirely wrong. You were his prey. Your eyes widened, you wanted to protest but words failed you. In front of you lay a man, well more like half naked man who looked down at you hungrily. His hands gripped at your hips pulling you close to him as his lips brushed against your neck, his hot breathing tickling your skin.
He trailed kisses along your jawline before kissing the spot beneath your ear lobe and began trailing downwards. You whimpered as his lips gently sucked and nipped at the sensitive area, you let out a soft moan before grabbing a handful of his hair "K-Kuni!" you gasped, he pulled back confused "How do you know that? " he asked a bit panicked, he swore he erased everyone's memory, everyone but the.. the traveller!
Before you could muster the words he slammed you down as his half lidded eyes stare down into yours "Clever.. you got information on me before approaching, I would congratulate you if it wasn't so annoying to have such lingering information, still.. I should give you something for your efforts~" He purred as he shoved two fingers into your now soaked hole, clenching around his fingers as he barely gave you time to get used to them before adding another then another, he seemed so eager to get this going, it was obvious in more then one way with the tent in his shorts.
"Aghhh, Kuni!! Please!" You moaned with a whine as your legs shook in pleasure, he stopped and looked at you chuckling as your eyes glistened with lust and desire.
His lips formed a smirk, oh how he loved being the cause of those lustful looks in your eyes. He removed his fingers and replaced them with himself, not giving you time to adjust he slammed himself inside, groaning lowly as he held onto your thighs harshly, leaving marks where his nails dug into the sensitive flesh. You were already moaning, begging for him to go harsher, he didn't need to be told twice as his thrusts became animalistic, his sweat glistening as he groans next to your ear, his hot breath hitting your neck. "Such a good little whore, taking me so well-" interrupted with a moan as he felt your hole clasp against him, getting close.
"Ahahaha~" he chuckled, trying his best to hold back his own climax as you whinned making it so much harder for him.
"You're so tight, I'm almost there!" he muttered quickly burying himself as far as he could.
"Don't stop-" he quickly cut you off as he came in a hard rush, throwing his head back and hissing as you continued to grind against him for a moment.
It took a moment for you to calm down enough to speak coherently, gasping as you finally did so "K-kuni..i.." you tried to speak again, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours as he tried catching his breath.
"don't, just sleep" he said as you felt the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion taking over, closing your eyes falling into a deep sleep.
Scaramouche Scaramouche will you do the fandango?
Merry crisis.