&&. ꜰᴀᴛʜᴏᴍʟᴇꜱꜱ. @monocerros - Tumblr Blog

#𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐒 / 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙴 & 𝙷𝙸𝙶𝙷𝙻𝚈 𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙰𝙹𝙰𝚇 "𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙴" 𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝙰 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙾𝚈𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴'𝚂 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙿𝙰𝙲𝚃.

nsfw present. mun & muse 21+. minors dni. LOW ACTIVITY.

CARRD. / ART CREDIT. / TBA.

tag dump (finally)

#ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ / ° . 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧— ✧˖*#ɪꜱᴍꜱ / ° . 𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥— ✧˖*#ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ / ° . 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥— ✧˖*#ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ / ° . 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲— ✧˖*#ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ / ° . 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥— ✧˖*#ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ / ° . 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭— ✧˖*#ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ɪ / ° . 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬— ✧˖*#ᴏᴏᴄ / ° . 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨?— ✧˖*#ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ / ° . 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬— ✧˖*#tag dump

arcalaho

oh uh i forgot to post here um

happy birthday ☹️

#ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ / ° . 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧— ✧˖*

same energy

#childe vc: I love my job #ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ / ° . 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬— ✧˖*

🐟

#this far he has stolen pan’s garlic bread (and spot at the table)#knocked all of dottore’s shit over #and is about to unleash hell upon scaramouche #now…. WHO IS NEXT #this is a quality blog #ᴏᴏᴄ / ° . 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨?— ✧˖*

@wcndererr

depthless desire brings forth a tangle of emotions within him - a fully balled up knot of all things complex and irritating. even on his best days, childe had never been particularly good at dealing with them, and on his worst... it boiled down to two reactions and two reactions only, one of them far more prominent than the other. his patience wasn't limitless, his understanding of the master manipulations his fellow harbingers played even less so, and it was really no surprise that scaramouche could make him snap so damn easily that the last threads of decorum childe possessed were shed somewhere in the sneznhayan snow alongside both of their coats.

it's shared, mingled breaths inside the cabin - one of the many kept in the remote, snow wrought wilderness for fatui usage. he's not quite sure how they got here - beyond the incessant needling, the pushing, the protesting from both ends - until he had grabbed the sixth and thrown him against the wood wrought walls with such abandon that he thought the cabin might fall down about them. fortunately, the only response was the howl of wind outside and the hush of his own wild breathing. fathomless blues burn near black in the lantern light, and the 11th's face is split into something near feral with a mixture of anger and want.

" you need to stop doing this to me. " he growls out, disjointed and hungry. " and stop allowing him to do it to you, scaramouche. " the ferocity in his dead gaze is disturbing, eyes alive for once in the firelight, before the abyss seems to swallow that whole too. still, desires flickers across his features - tinged with mounting frustration and anger, and he has to exhale. the motion pushes their chests further together, the leg he'd positioned between the shorter's own rubbing tight and high, while hands squeeze the wrists pinned by his companion's hands. there'd be bruises on a human... bruises on anyone else... but on the balladeer?

ocean gaze flicks downwards to petal soft lips, seconds away from spewing their next bout of vitriol no doubt. childe pauses for a second... only a second, wondering if he has the patience to handle whatever excuse, whatever bullshit scaramouche is going to hatefully feed him this time before-

" fuck it. "

their lips smash together and childe gives and devours and leaves nothing but want in his wake. it's a supplicant press of his slightly chapped tiers to scaramouche's own perfect ones, but the 11th allows him hardly a chance to breathe, to even brandish a proverbial weapon. it's all tongue and teeth for him - the same sort of preceise savagery he wields his weapons with channeled into the nip of his teeth, the flick of his tongue along a sweet seam of lips, until the younger is given entrance and he can finally devour the 6th in the way he's been wanting to all damn night.

childe's kiss is like a consumption of scaramouche's soul - a tilt of his head, his body pressing flush and close so the puppet can feel it all... can feel everything. it's lewd and debauched and borderline violent, so fixated on licking his way through scaramouche's mouth that childe doesn't remember has to breathe until his lungs squeeze tight, and he forcibly separates them with a wet pop. saliva hangs between them, a silvery connection of his transgressions, and once more there seems to be a dim fire in dead eyes, as his tongue darts forth to lap briefly at the corner of the other's mouth - severing the connection with the promise of renewal.

" the only effective way to get you to shut up, i see. duly noted. "

#wcndererr #i will fix my tags some day #BUT HERE YOU GO I HOPE THIS IS GOOD #my boy a bit rusty #ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ɪ / ° . 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬— ✧˖*#ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ / ° . 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥— ✧˖*

muimira

#ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ / ° . 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧— ✧˖*

@serpenrex

liyue is as warm as he remembers, the people as effervescent, and the streets as alive with prosperity just the same as when he'd left so many months ago. a happy, light-filled place - alive with the sounds of a civilization built upon the back of a god who's thirst for blood had rivaled his own present one. perhaps the thought was blasphemous, but the harbinger had long since stopped caring about what was heresy to the archons and what wasn't. how could he truthfully give a shit, when not one - but two of them - had pulled wool so thick over his eyes he was wiping away the fibers month later.

originally, he had thought he'd gotten over it. what was the point in stewing, after all? he was but a blip on morax's - and subsequently zhongli's - long lived radar, after all. even childe, who lived at the bottom of the ocean, who drank from the wheel of the depthless stars that was the abyss, could not begin to fathom what went through an archon's head - especially one as old as he. so childe had stopped trying. for months. and months. and months. he'd slaughtered his way across battlefields, killed countless enemies of the tsarista, stained his hands even more red, and it did nothing to quell the fury in his bones.

so he was back in the harbor proper, outside the funeral parlor, and staring into familiar golden eyes.

childe is a predator. usually languid and free in movements, he is wound tight here, broad shoulders stiff and his spine ramrod straight. a smirk lilts upon the edges of his lips - but it doesn't meet his eyes. nothing every does, yet in the flicker of the liyue's warm evening glow (gold, so much gold, it makes zhongli look resplendent), they look especially dead - the bottomless hues a weapon of their own accord. he'd barely said hello, had no intent of making small talk, he'd simply had ekaterina deliver the letter to the parlor proper to request zhongli meet him at the appointed hour and now that said hour had come, childe hadn't lost his bravado - but it had faded into something more.... dangerous.

" xiansheng. " he murmurs in that firm, dulcet tone. they're not even standing that close, yet it's a familiar lover's whisper, as hands slip into the pockets of his uniform pants and he peers at the elder through thick, red lashes. " i'd like to make a contract. "

#serpenrex #:3ccccc #ENJOY.....#ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ / ° . 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥— ✧˖*#ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ɪ / ° . 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬— ✧˖*