𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐋.

[dvouring-archived]

𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀.   written by nine, your neighbourhood cryptid   (   25+   /   theythem.   )   there will be disturbing elements to this portrayal, thus interactions will be with other adults only. please do not follow if you’re under 20. unattached personal blogs will be soft blocked. standard rules apply   ;   no direct god - modding, and please reblog from the source if possible. we are multi - ship, private, multi, and oc friendly.    estab   ;   11 / 2020.   𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒:   @ecleips​   (   kaeya, low activity.   )   rules, etc. under the cut.

                                                         𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒     :     I.     /     II.

i.   due to my writing speed, i will only be interacting with mutuals.   ii.   due to pending lore, childe’s interpretation and canon divergencies are subject to change.   iii.   setting scenes and making assumptions about my character is fine, but godmodding is not.   iv.   shipping is based on chemistry. while childe may flirt, if not discussed, he will not pursue.   v.   nsfw will most likely be present. interaction is limited to other adults only. content is tagged, “ nsft   / ”   vi.   i will not be dragged into drama. i am simply too old.

hi, i’m nine.   filo australian working / studying which will affect my ability to reply. my discord is available for chatting and plotting, so i hope we can have fun writing together   !!

[dvouring-archived]

thinking of moving blogs.

[dvouring-archived]

hey can you tell my brother that i have the authority to extort money from him

' ą̸͙̱̥̳̘̃̊͂̑̓̇͛̾̐͝ͅy̴̺͖̐́̀á̶͚͓̬̝͔̙̭̓͐̽͌͋̚͠k̷͙̪͎̰̺̬̙͊̾͋͊̔̓s̴͈̳̪̺̮̝̓̋̐̉̉͂̽,̶̨̛̫̪̓̄͗̅̓̐̃ ' a spooky howl of a voice, the legacy addressing the host in beastial tongues, and then - ' the little one requires your stupid human currency. ' @narvvhal, @abyssmalice.

[dvouring-archived]

w / @supportingfire i didn’t realise this was my calling card, but i realised that already today i said : “ fun fact, childe’s drowned before “ which is essentially the same energy.

[dvouring-archived]

early morning bullying w/ @wcndererr

[onlytruepain]

more chiscara art dump

[afreysia]

dysfunctional co-workers

[kikun]

Exhaustion settles over pristine features, introducing a flake of imperfection in a perfect being. He had never paid much attention to Childe in his past life. There had never been a need to analyse his sporadicity. He was simply that; an enigma. However, a bothersome one. A pest of a puzzle that lacked its final piece or came with a mismatched one. There was something irritating about that fact. Something nonsensical about how a powerful, erstwhile deity wasn't in possession of tools to crack the code behind Tartaglia.

There was one thing he'd known like the back of his hand - how the aggravation that was the Eleventh had a tendency to pester his former self. Truth be told, the Wanderer could never quite pinpoint : WHY. He wonders if he avoids him like the plague to spare himself from a potential future involving his past being unwound. Or maybe each flung petty act stings him with a beseeching plea to ' stay away '. Even by a fraction was better than no distance at all.

Still , that doesn't deter Akihiko from stretching his leg in simultaneity with the crossing of their guest. Catching his foot without the slightest hint of pulling it back to avoid an accident. No, there is deliberacy, poignantly known when he spies the ( minutes ago caught ) dinner that flies in all directions. Raining with an assortment of nourishment and spices and with it, the scent is carried off by the cool, night air. He celebrates his victory with another bite of his meal, mirroring the others sans one.

❝ Sorry, STRANGER. ❞ Faux pity devours his tossed words, going so far as to not provide Childe with the barest respect. Apparent by the lack of eye contact. He swallows his dinner that he hadn't needed in the first place.

A mediocre and vengeful stunt on his end, but it would not matter in the grand scheme of things.

The crackle of the flame alerts his senses, reminding him of the pending doom that might await his consequential deed. But would Childe make a fool of himself before his lovely companion? He recalls the adoration and tenderness he'd displayed upon the very mention of the sibling seeker. How he had called it PATHETIC, once upon a time.

He takes another bite, chewing absentmindedly.

[dvouring-archived]

what had inspired his infatuation with the balladeer in a previous life ?

assuredness, most certainly ; that scaramouche had walked the earth as if it was his own to command, that he’d wielded storms as if it were a second skin. that he was beautiful, even then, wielding such unimaginable violence. what had distinguished the line between the harbingers childe despised, and the ones he didn’t ? it had been so faint, almost indistinguishable. in the small moments between missions, there had been flecks of humanity ; kindness towards an animal, a brief look of contemplation. eating, amusement, genuine distraught. maybe it wasn’t hope that the balladeer would eventually react to him with more favour, but that he might get to see more of it, even if it wasn’t directed at him. maybe it was the comfort that scaramouche wasn’t one of the unfeeling monstrosities in the higher ranks like dottore, even though he might never get to see more of this softer side. infatuations were fleeting things though, and he’d been waiting for the day he could look at scara without feeling his heart race. he’d no idea that the fabric of reality needed to be torn apart to rip that image of the balladeer out.

a previous childe would have reacted with all the grace of a fish out of water. it wasn't the first time the puppet has tripped him after all. a previous childe would have initiated battle there and then, laughed joyously at the thought of a spar, hurled insults that were secret endearments. this version of him had no such reaction. the harbinger’s plate went flying, spices and sauce landing partially on the traveller as he struggled to regain his balance. there was a long moment in which time seemed to freeze, but he was simply contemplating how to react, collecting himself, stilling his anger. ( what had childe’s previous persona around scaramouche been but an attempt to gain his attention ? scaramouche had been reactive, volatile. and childe had thrived on his attention, his focus. he wanted the object of his affections to be looking at him. ) now, the harbinger breathed in and out, not looking at the wanderer but instead moving to apologise to the traveller, a handkerchief and hydro in turn cleaning what had been the remains of his meal. it was a mature response, but - attempted accosting for a gnosis aside - when had he ever been anything but civil towards the traveller ?

there were no more stolen glances at the wanderer, not until the apex of night once childe had acquired an even later dinner, and eaten it while companions were going to sleep. he knew that the wanderer was paying him attention, though avidly pretended not to. for someone who seemingly didn’t want to be associated with childe, he was doing a perfectly good job of getting on his nerves. from across the dying embers of the campfire, he could see the wanderer’s silhouette, legacy’s vision granting him better eyesight at night. the other hadn’t dared to meet the harbinger's eyes the entirety of their time together, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. for someone so eager to assess dominance over the situation, that seemed stranger than ignoring him completely. ( a previous childe might wonder if scaramouche had liked the undivided attention he had provided, why even in this new life away from old ties, he would still seek to have it. ) when childe spoke, his tone was almost raspy with disuse, but there was something else in his tone, an amalgamation of his hidden heartaches, perhaps.

‘ what the fuck is your problem ? ’

[dvouring-archived]

pictured: me, ruining my sleep schedule to beat a cat at cards.

[dvouring-archived]

self reminder to write clothing hcs for childe because i've been putting it off since last year.

[dvouring-archived]

me, meticulously making sure the post has a 'read more' break on it: tumblr: simply not having it

[dvouring-archived]

@supportingfire said: "-'ax" it comes out like a prayer, knees already bent where harbinger is his pulpit. hands planted firm on childe's strong stomach, which is clenched and rippling under sweaty palms as thoma pistons himself, up down - up down, relishing the feel as he takes ajax for all he can. his partner's cock drives deep on each push down, he'll be sore come morning but in the moment, he doesn't care. ajax told him he could take what he wanted tonight, giving thoma the chance to seize his own pleasure first rather than the other way around, and he's going to indulge. firm hands guide his naked hips slick with sweat, and thoma thinks with a delicious moan that he'll trace the faint bruises of fingertips left behind when ajax is away from him. a little bit to keep, "i feel…so good," he breathes, fingers clenching over solid abdominals, "almost. almost-"

how should he feel knowing thoma lies at an alter most sacrilegious ? he is a gnawing, devouring, monstrous thing and yet sunshine had never cared for that which was sanctimonious, unholy. where that acceptance had changed into desire, he could not pinpoint, but he reaped the rewards of thoma’s worship, of his devout utterings to whatever god would listen. and truly, he looked heavenly where he was seated, flush and pretty in ajax’ lap, where he half lie and half sat amidst decadent pillows. the occasional hand would come up to slick back thoma’s bangs from his face, watch the warm green meet ajax’ blue with desire palpable in his gaze. though ajax didn’t much have to look for it, he could feel it around him ; the way thoma clenched over his cock when he rolled his hips, the odd twitch or stutter when the harbinger trailed his hands over hips, ribs, plucked or rubbed at hardened nipples, sounds of ecstasy wrought from the most teasing touches, fingertips trailing down from navel to thoma’s hardness.

‘ look at you. ’ sweet coo on raspy tonality, affection in ajax’ eyes but something else there too, something predatory and possessive. he’s made lovely work of him already, bite marks and the most loving bruises, a floret of possessive adornments skirting the places he knew would be difficult to cover come morning. it wasn’t enough. scared hands came down to press into the bruises at thoma’s waist, marvelling at how perfectly his hands fit. a shuddery sigh left him as another torque of thoma’s hips shifts him that much closer to completion, but he couldn’t just yet. he wanted to watch thoma chase his own pleasure, aided by nothing save ajax’s hands, his words. ‘ so pretty. you’re always so well - behaved for me, sunshine. ’ he so desperately wanted to help, but doing so erased the whole point of thoma’s goal. pleasure this drawn out required excruciating patience, a reminder every time thoma sank onto his cock not to flip them over and ruin him. it’s worth it. with thoma, it always is.

‘ be a good boy, and come. ’

[suiyuun-archive]

@dvouring: prawn gyozas were one of his favourite inazuman foods. the harbinger would need a good incentive if he was to learn how to properly grasp the use of these utensils. not only that, he was determined to use them artfully, fluidly, if not - then at least skillfully enough to shove them up a stuck up politicians assh - okay, calm down, breathe. he’d been practising in his room for about an hour now, door slightly ajar, quiet save for the odd snezhnayan curse. it was no longer the treat that fueled him, but the spite of seeing the very same hiiragi clan members who’d made fun of him at the last diplomatic dinner eat their words. he was a reflection of the kamisato family now, and they didn’t stab their food with abandon - but childe might have to stab something soon if he let his frustration get the better of him.

the  estate  is  well  and  truly  alive  this  late  in  the  afternoon  -  made  even  more  so  by  the  clan  head  himself  being  in  residence  again  after  having  been  away  for  nearly  two  weeks.  still  though,  despite  the  kamisatos  being  one  of  the  eldest  families  to  remain  in  power  in  inazuma,  and  arguably  the  most  powerful,  ayato  and  ayaka  both  choose  to  keep  a  refined  and  quiet  home.  thusly  'alive'  and  'bustling'  for  his  household  translates  usually  to  -  a  few  extra  servants  in  the  halls  sorting  linens,  or  the  occasional  shuumatsuban  member  padding  by  open  doors  on  silent  footfalls.  

ayato  strides  with  one  of  his  many  assistants  through  the  residential  wing,  in  the  midst  of  removing  arm  guards,  gloves,  and  his  outermost  layers  (namely  to  ride  himself  of  cumbersome  sleeves)  as  they  walk.  he  speaks  to  his  household  in  quiet  tones,  assessing  the  treatise  held  open  before  him  with  the  rapt  attention  of  an  artist  in  the  midst  of  painting  the  perfect  scene.  a  wayward  nod  falls  short,  the  ice  blue  of  his  tresses  careening  into  handsome  features  before-  ayato  blinks,  just  once,  hesitating  at  the  nearby  corner  and  tilting  his  head  to  follow  the  sound  of  curses  in  a  language  better  suited  for  northern  frosts  and  nights  spent  by  firesides-

                                                                   ah.

the  ajar  door  gives  him  a  glimpse  to  exactly  what  is  occurring,  and  ayato  can't  help  but  find  himself  chagrined.  without  a  second  thought,  the  lord  commissioner  turns  on  his  heel  and  strides  in  (he  technically  owns  the  room,  right?  and  this  is  his  consort)  without  knocking.  stunned  servants  and  shuumatsuban  alike  linger  at  the  threshold  -  and  ayato  remembers  them  only  a  moment  later,  a  gloved  hand  waving  them  off.  "  clear  my  schedule.  "  before  slamming  the  sliding  door  behind  him  with  a  bang  that  could  be  heard  across  the  home.  

only  then  does  he  focus  on  childe  once  more,  the  strange  blue-purple  lull  of  his  eyes  glimmering  with  both  mirth  and  barely  concealed  predatory  interest.  "  oh  my.  "  amusement  meets  the  soft  lilt  of  ayato's  ever  honeyed  voice,  and  he  sinks  to  his  knees  next  to  the  sneznhayan  with  the  grace  of  a  man  retreating  to  his  throne.  "  stare  at  those  chopsticks  any  harder  and  they  may  burst  into  flame,  hydro  vision  or  not.  "  deft  fingertips  drift  forth,  procuring  the  additional  pair  by  the  unadorned  plate,  and  weaving  them  deftly  through  his  fingertips.  he  plucks  up  one  of  the  prawn  gyoza  as  easy  as  breathing,  dipping  it  lightly  into  the  nearby  sauce  (garnished  with  jueyun  chilis  and  a  special  blend  of  spices).  ayato  cannot  resist  a  slight  moan  at  the  burst  of  flavor  that  follows  suit  -  hand  raising  to  delicately  cover  lips  as  he  chews  and  swallows.  "  mm  -  thoma  made  these.  good  choice.  "  

ayato  tilts  his  head  once  more,  that  long  blue  strand  falling  forth  a  bit  further  upon  the  white  of  his  clothing.  he  does  not  appear  patronizing,  does  not  appear  sympathetic  -  rather  only  assesses.  "  ayaka  told  me  about  the,  hm,  incident.  i  hear  you  irreparably  marred  a  300  year  old  table.  "  a  forlorn  sigh.  "  oh  to  have  been  a  fly  on  the  wall.  "

chopsticks  sweep  forward  then,  plucking  up  yet  another  gyoza  and  dipping  it  into  the  sauce.  free  hand  positioning  below  the  food  item  to  keep  any  of  the  garnish  from  dripping,  he  raises  both  towards  childe's  lips,  pausing  patiently  before  them  with  that  serene,  but  predatory  gaze.  "  i'm  only  sorry  i  was  not  here  to  see  it.  you  did  me  a  great  service  by  attending  that  dinner  on  my  behalf,  even  when...  "  well,  by  inazuman  standards,  it  was  technically  his  consort's  job,  but  ayato  was  making  a  concentrated  attempt  at  being  some  semblance  of...  nice.  "  let  me  help  you.  i  believe  my  teaching  methods  will  prove...  more  fruitful  than  most.  "  an  ominous,  but  temptuous  promise,  born  on  the  back  of  the  sweetest  of  smirks.

[piercingdarke]

@dvouring. 🔥

          “nothing’s biting,” ex-knight sounds vaguely annoyed, but not with the harbinger himself--the overachiever in him seems to think, at this point, that if they haven’t caught any fish yet he must be doing something wrong. nevermind that it’s only been about fifteen minutes, “you do this for fun? it seems a little... slow-paced for your tastes.”

[dvouring-archived]

‘ thought you’d jump at an opportunity to sit and brood. this is like my version of meditation. ’ he comes to sit next to his partner on the wharf, becoming quieter so as to not startle any fish nearby, gesturing as he speaks. ‘ but the fish could strike at any time. be alert. watch for the ripples near the surface, pay attention to the shadows in the water - ’ a hand theatrically followed a particularly large shadow coming closer. no, childe absolutely wasn’t using his hydro vision to subtly move the fish closer. ‘ - birdie, look ! pay attention ! ’

[dvouring-archived]

me, watching ayla and ray fight in my notes:

[dvouring-archived]

@dawnswine replied to your post:

CAN YALL STOP IM FUCKING SAD

no 💙

[kikun]

It is no mystery WHY the Traveler had wanted the Wanderer and Childe to tag along, but it would have been preferable had there been a show of l e s s capability. Each commission is handled with the utmost ease, performed solely by the adventurer assigned to the task and it appears as if the two had no reason to be around. At least, that's what Akihiko believes. It is a mystery what goes on in the mind of his former co-worker.

And he has NO intention of attempting to resurface what he had once grasped with arguable expertise.

More than anything, Inazuma's lost doll NEVER again wants to hear Childe utter gratitude in his presence. Specifically, when it's directed at himself. It irks him to the point the Wanderer has to fight the oncoming reaction tapping at the backdoor of his mind, requesting to shake off the inexplicably, eerie sensation.

He manages by striding forth, a few footfalls behind the embodiment of the cosmos, but not finding exact solace when he cannot seem to shake off their company. He had sworn to give him a chance and not send him away, though the ordeal was becoming a little more to bear than he had previously anticipated. Questions were being handed out now as if this were some meet and greet. Which to an extent was quite literally the case. At that moment, it dawns on him that decisions existed for a reason and rationale was something the Wanderer had in his arsenal. Though now existed his dilemma, formed by the burden of free choice which rested in his delicate palms. Because there was ALWAYS the option to refuse Childe's approach.

His throat does not parch, nor does his blood run cold. For those are mortal reactions that he is without. BUT the experience of struggle and hesitation is something that can be learned. Something he has personally been taught after all these years.

How very.

❝ It's Scaramouche. ❞ A name long gone. To be forgotten, not remembered.

❝ Do you think I would hand out my name to a stranger I've just met? ❞ It is said with derision, coming out naturally as if it were an unbreakable habit. ❝ Childe… heh , how naive. ❞ He cannot fight off the gnawing necessity to prod and insult the young male. As much as he attempts to withhold his brutish tongue. ❝ What a fitting name fate has given you. ❞

[dvouring-archived]

the pain, as fate would have it, is temporary. or at least, childe would like to pretend it is. he had to, in this case, because when driven he would ignore heartache for the sake of pride. it wasn't in his disposition, for childe wasn’t a naturally cold, unfeeling thing - but that, like an emotional reaction too, could be taught. the wanderer replied curtly, and it wasn’t with the same reluctant kindness, at the very least childe could take that. he’d be able to take this condescension in stride too, but perhaps he felt too raw, too vulnerable today. it turned the good will in him sour, something beyond irritation beneath his skin, for a rejection like this one hurt more than it should have. every reaction he has to this off - putting stranger was simply more than it should have been, and it didn't make sense. it was so frustrating.

maybe the show of his fractured emotions appeared for but a second - widened blue eyes, lips parted, younger than his years for a moment - before childe steeled the expression into something more neutral. he looked down, gripping uniform tightly at his chest as if it would ease the tug on his heartstrings before dropping the hand to his side. maybe this would be a point where childe would turn expressionism back to antagonistic, boyish smirk, and say something belittling or sarcastic ( as he would have with scaramouche, the friend he missed beyond memory, beyond reason ) but instead those darkened eyes turned cold. the friendly antagonism he saved specifically for the wanderer’s past life was replaced with a bitter silence, a petulant, " whatever, stranger. " on childe’s breathe as he increased pace to catch up with the traveller instead.

that was how he spent the rest of his time with the traveller’s commissions ; striking conversation with them instead, hanging off the traveller’s shoulders, the charming tease as he playfully tugged on their starlit hair. he didn’t want to acknowledge the shadow behind them, but when he did - “ hey, stranger, pass the dendro potion for traveler. ” / “ watch it, stranger. ” / “ that stranger doesn’t wanna help, let me do it, traveller. ” - pettiness wielded to mask the pain over his rejection of friendship. childe got along swimmingly with most of the traveller’s other party members, but gave a noticeable cold shoulder to the newest companion. this was fine, maybe it was better this way. over the traveller’s thank you, a campside dinner ( fish and meat stuffed with bitter herbs, ) childe tried not to steal glances at the wanderer, and wondered if this ache in his chest would ever subside.