cavalierious-whim - Tumblr blog

cavalierious-whim · 2 months

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FYI artists and writers: some info regarding tumblr's new "third-party sharing" (aka selling your content to OpenAI and Midjourney)

You may have already seen the post by @staff regarding third-party sharing and how to opt out. You may have also already seen various news articles discussing the matter.

But here's a little further clarity re some questions I had, and you may too. Caveat: Not all of this is on official tumblr pages, so it's possible things may change.

(1) "I heard they already have access to my data and it doesn't really matter if I opt out"

From the 404 article:

A new FAQ section we reviewed is titled “What happens when you opt out?” states “If you opt out from the start, we will block crawlers from accessing your content by adding your site on a disallowed list. If you change your mind later, we also plan to update any partners about people who newly opt-out and ask that their content be removed from past sources and future training.”

So please, go click that opt-out button.

(2) Some future user: "I've been away from tumblr for months, and I just heard about all this. I didn't opt out before, so does it make a difference anymore?"

Another internal document shows that, on February 23, an employee asked in a staff-only thread, “Do we have assurances that if a user opts out of their data being shared with third parties that our existing data partners will be notified of such a change and remove their data?” Andrew Spittle, Automattic’s head of AI replied: “We will notify existing partners on a regular basis about anyone who's opted out since the last time we provided a list. I want this to be an ongoing process where we regularly advocate for past content to be excluded based on current preferences. We will ask that content be deleted and removed from any future training runs. I believe partners will honor this based on our conversations with them to this point. I don't think they gain much overall by retaining it.”

It should make a difference! Go click that button.

(3) "I opted out, but my art posts have been reblogged by so many people, and I don't know if they all opted out. What does that mean for my stuff?"

This answer is actually on the support page for the toggle:

This option will prevent your blog's content, even when reblogged, from being shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models.

And some further clarification by the COO and a product manager:

zingring: A couple people from work have reached out to let me know that yes, it applies to reblogs of "don't scrape" content. If you opt out, your content is opted out, even in reblog form. cyle: yep, for reblogs, we're taking it so far as "if anybody in the reblog trail has opted out, all of the content in that reblog will be opted out", when a reblog could be scraped/shared.

So not only your reblogged posts, but anyone who contributed in a reblog (such as posts where someone has been inspired to draw fanart of the OP) will presumably be protected by your opt-out. (A good reason to opt out even if you yourself are not a creator.)

Furthermore, if you the OP were offline and didn't know about the opt-out, if someone contributed to a reblog and they are opted out, then your original work is also protected. (Which makes it very tempting to contribute "scrapeable content" now whenever I reblog from an abandoned/disused blog...)

(4) "What about deleted blogs? They can't opt out!"

I was told by someone (not official) that he read "deleted blogs are all opted-out by default". However, he didn't recall the source, and I can't find it, so I can't guarantee that info. If I get more details - like if/when tumblr puts up that FAQ as reported in the 404 article - I will add it here as soon as I can.

Edit, tumblr has updated their help page for the option to opt-out of third-party sharing! It now states:

The content which will not be shared with our licensed network of content and research partners, including those that train AI models, includes: • Posts and reblogs of posts from blogs who have enabled the "Prevent third-party sharing" option. • Posts and reblogs of posts from deleted blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from password-protected blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from explicit blogs. • Posts and reblogs of posts from suspended/deactivated blogs. • Private posts. • Drafts. • Messages. • Asks and submissions which have not been publicly posted. • Post+ subscriber-only posts. • Explicit posts.

So no need to worry about your old deleted blogs that still have reblogs floating around. *\o/*

But for your existing blogs, please use the opt out option. And a reminder of how to opt out, under the cut:

The opt-out toggle is in Blog Settings, and please note you need to do it for each one of your blogs / sideblogs.

On dashboard, the toggle is at https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/blogname [replace "blogname" as applicable] down by Visibility:

For mobile, you need the most recent update of the app. (Android version 33.4.1.100, iOs version 33.4.) Then go to your blog tab (the little person icon), and then the gear icon for Settings, then click Visibility.

Again, if you have a sideblog, go back to the blog tab, switch to it, and go to settings again. Repeat as necessary.

If you do not have access to the newest version of the app for whatever reason, you can also log into tumblr in your mobile browser. Same URL as per desktop above, same location.

Note you do not need to change settings in both desktop and the app, just one is fine.

I hope this helps!

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cavalierious-whim · 2 months

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1.6 is coming—see you march 19th!!! 🥹🌱

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cavalierious-whim · 2 months

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HC: When Wrio became a Duke he spent a great deal of effort to educate himself on classics. He read a lot, went to see plays, but eventually accidentally found a guilty pleasure in trashy cheap love novels...

Transcribed: ["Since Inazuma opened for export we have been ordering a lot of books for our library from their local publishing house" "A servant to an immortal god who i am in love with" "As a warden I have to personally inspect these materials"

"There's a huge fight at the lobby!" "They'll figure it out" "Also Monsieur Neuvillette is there watching" "But I can't just sit idle"]

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cavalierious-whim · 2 months

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Notched Together (TartaLi)

Childe comes back from a work trip to a needy Zhongli.

Read here on AO3. You can also, follow me on Twitter and Blue Sky.

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“Fuck you’re—”

Perfect. Childe can’t even articulate the thought aloud. Zhongli lies on his back, resting against the silk sheets, legs parted, and a wolfish smirk plastered across his face. He knows. He knows that Childe knows, and delights in how Childe’s gaze drags from his head to his feet. How his throat bobs as he swallows, how his words get caught in his throat.

“Darling,” purrs Zhongli, reaching down between his thighs with his hand. Charcoal, blackened fingers tipped with sharp, dangerous claws. Geo pulses in the air around them, and Childe thinks that he could probably drown in it if left to his own devices. He watches Zhongli’s deft fingers sweep across his cunt, the pads catching against his folds before spreading them.

Showing off. He’s always showing off, proud of his perfectly cultivated form. “I want to match,” he’d said one day, and that was that.

“Are you just going to stare?” he asks now, his words taking on a tone of amusement, and Childe realizes that he’s been caught gaping, staring slack-jawed as he often does.

“No, I just—Fuck. Zhongli, you’re always so gorgeous.”

“Show me then.” It’s a simple request but Zhongli’s expression is coy. Childe is on his knees before him and Zhongli drags his foot up the inside of Childe’s thigh. He can’t feel much through the harness but he can feel the pressure, at least, and Childe grinds against the arch of Zhongli’s ankle, seeking out friction. “Ajax,” he teases when Childe groans.

Right. Right. Childe leans over and crawls across the bed. Zhongli’s gaze drops to his cock between his thighs and it lingers. His cunt is wet and glistening at merely the sight of Childe, which, fuck, that does things to him.

Childe tells himself to take his time but the moment he presses his face against Zhongli’s neck, he knows it will be impossible. Zhongli’s fingers curl around his neck, tugging Childe’s face to meet him properly. He leans up, pressing his mouth against Childe’s, the tip of his forked tongue tracing the seam of Childe’s lips.

They share a moan. Childe swallows the sound as he nips at Zhongli’s mouth, guiding his face just so that their mouths slot together perfectly. It’s a lingering, passionate kiss that Zhongli smiles into—and then he gets antsy, tugging at Childe’s hair.

“Alright,” laughs Childe, pulling away. He kisses Zhongli’s jaw, the juncture of his shoulder, and down the length of his collarbone. Childe pauses between the swell of his chest, nuzzling at Zhongli’s sternum. Then, a quick flick of his tongue against a nipple, feeling it harden underneath the sensation.

“Ajax, more.”

“So impatient,” teases Childe, but who is he to deny his love? His hand drops between Zhongli’s thighs and he drags his thumb through those wet, glistening folds.

Zhongli hisses, his back arching in the bed. He’s quick to move, rolling his hips up to meet Childe’s hand, and the moan that drips from his mouth is the thing of legends.

Childe rests his chin against Zhongli’s chest. His eyes flicker and he asks, “Do you want my fingers? Or my cock?”

Zhongli meets his gaze with half-lidded, hazy eyes. Childe teases him as he waits, the tips of his fingers ghosting his entrance. “I—both.”

The obvious answer, and one that Childe expected. Zhongli is slick enough for Childe to sink two fingers in, right to the last knuckle. Zhongli sighs in relief, head dropping back against the pillows. Childe spreads them, fucks them in and out, curls them just so against his soft, wet walls.

Zhongli keens, writhing in the sheets. “Ajax,” he mutters. “Ajax.”

There are many times when Childe enjoys dragging this out; when Childe will fuck Zhongli on his fingers until he comes over and over before sinking his cock into him. This is not one of those times. Childe just came back from a work trip and he finds himself wanting. Katya had teased him about how quickly he’d dropped his things off before whisking himself away to Zhongli’s flat, but it’s true. Childe had barely set foot in Liyue Harbor before Zhongli was pulling him into his home and plastering kisses against his face.

And now it’s Childe who kisses him, greedy, suckling things that leave behind marks. He wants to see Zhongli gone, and spread around his cock. He wants to see him come and beg for more, tears leaking from his eyes as he cries from overstimulation.

Childe pulls out his fingers and Zhongli groans with annoyance. Soft laughter tumbles from Childe’s mouth as he brushes his calloused knuckles across Zhongli’s sex before thumbing over his clit. “Oh, that’s—Ajax.” He whimpers at the loss of his touch.

“You asked for both, so you’ll get both.” Childe shuffles about, pulling Zhongli close by the hips. He looks down to see the cock of his making resting in the crook of Zhongli’s thigh. It’s a carefully crafted thing of condensed Hydro. Childe often plays around with the shape and size, but today he’d settled for something simpler of decent length of girth.

It’ll be enough, he thinks, wrapping his fingers around it and giving it a stroke. It’s cool against his palm, and no, he cannot feel it, but he can still imagine, and his insides tighten with pleasure. His real cock, the one trapped behind the harness, isn't large enough to sink into Zhongli’s heat adequately, but Childe will enjoy rutting against the leather as the sight of it all does him in.

And Zhongli never has complaints. No, no, he loves whatever Childe chooses to give him, whether it's a carefully crafted dildo, or rubbing his real cock against Zhongli’s cunt—he’ll be left shuddering in the bed and crying out Childe’s name all the same. Notched together perfectly like puzzle pieces falling into place, painting a picture of love.

“So wet,” marvels Childe, dragging his thumb up and down Zhongli’s cunt again, taking in his swollen folds, and the way his hole parts, begging to be filled.

“Please.” Zhongli watches him with a ruddy, debauched gaze. “Ajax, please.”

Childe doesn’t need to slick the cock—it’s already wet by nature—so he presses the tip to Zhongli’s sex and thrusts in sharply, quickly, just like how he knows Zhongli wants it.

Zhongli looks handsome, beautiful, whatever fancy words Childe can think of. He hisses, crying out Childe’s name as his fingers dig into the sheets. He moans, already lifting his hips, already trying to force Childe’s cock deeper. Needy. Greedy, even, what with the way his cunt just swallows Childe right to the root.

“Fuck, look at you,” curses Childe, reaching out to rest his palm against the rise of Zhongli’s pubic bone. He pulls out, holding Zhongli there against the bed, and then fucks back in with a heavy thrust.

Zhongli is a vision. Flushed to his collarbone, he whines, dragging himself along Childe’s length, riding it even though he’s the one spread out in the sheets.

Childe’s hand presses against him harder. “Easy there. Let me take care of you.”

Zhongli grunts but falls still in the sheets, and the look he shoots Childe is a sweet, lazy thing. “You’re taking too long. I want—”

“Too long?” Childe laughs loudly. “Zhongli, do you want to hear what I wanted to do to you instead? What I would have indulged in if I wasn’t so desperate to see you take my cock?” Zhongli stills, his throat bobbing as he considers this. Childe sighs, rolling his hips slowly, languidly, a far cry from the hard, rough fucking that Zhongli would prefer.

“I would’ve pulled you apart on my fingers,” says Childe, leaning over as he grinds his cock deep into Zhongli. “I would’ve worked you into overstimulation by my hands alone, and then I would’ve pulled you onto my cock.”

Childe thrusts, punctuating his words, and Zhongli gasps, the sound of it drawing out into a moan.

“I would’ve touched you here,” continues Childe, dragging his thumb across the stiff bud of Zhongli’s clit. “You would’ve shuddered in these sheets. You’d be crying as I wrung you dry.”

“Yes, yes—”

Childe falls in love again at the sight of him, at the way that Zhongli tilts his hips every time Childe’s cock sinks deep. Childe grinds into him, gritting his teeth at the friction against his own sex, at the wetness between his thighs, and the pleasure that curls down his spine before settling in his gut. Fuck it feels good. And Zhongli—Childe can’t stop staring, his gaze trained right here Zhongli’s cunt swallows his dick.

Zhongli must be close. He pulls at the sheets, claws threatening to shred them, whimpering as his thighs quiver. “Ajax, more.”

He gives Zhongli more, snapping his hips against him hard and fast. Zhongli wails, going taut in the sheets. Childe can see the way his orgasm ripples through him, can hear it fall from Zhongli’s mouth in a horse cry. Childe fucks him through it, desperation seeping into his veins.

“Another,” he says, hiking Zhongli’s legs over his shoulders, angling him just so the tip of his cock hits that spot that makes Zhongli see stars. “Fuck, Zhongli, I want to see you come again.”

Childe is close, his dick dragging against the inside of the leather, stiff and aching. Sweat beads along his brow as he rolls his hips, thrusting into Zhongli’s clenching heat. Zhongli’s thighs shake against him, but Childe doesn’t let up, he just tilts his face and kisses the inside of his knee, whispering praises and sweet-nothings that are nearly lost in the haze of their lovemaking.

Zhongli blinks at him, those golden eyes brimming with lust. His hand slinks down the length of his body and his fingers trace the edges of his swollen folds wrapped around Childe’s cock. Childe’s mouth goes dry. He stares, unable to look away, and Zhongli knows that’s what will do him in, so he touches himself, dragging his fingers back up to rub at his clit.

Childe’s hips stutter. Zhongli hisses, overstimulated, pulled taut and thin as he circles his fingers around the stiff bud between his thighs. What Childe would do to get his mouth on him. What he’d do to sit there and just watch Zhongli touch himself. Later, later—

Zhongli moans. “Ajax, I’m, I’m—” When he comes this time it’s quieter. He sighs Childe’s name as he rolls through it, toes curling as his knees nearly box against Childe’s head. Another thrust, a slow, sluggish thing, meant more to please him than Zhongli.

“Ajax.” Zhongli’s voice is tight. His eyes are pinched as he calls his name. “Ajax, are you—”

“I’m so close. Fuck, fuck.” Ajax stills and shoves his hand into the harness, grinding his palm against himself just enough so that he tips over the edge. It’s white-hot as it cuts through him, and Childe feels as if a weight falls from his shoulders. He didn’t realize how keyed up he was until everything was let loose as he kneeled there on wobbly legs, forehead pressed to the inside of Zhongli’s knee as he rides out his high.

Moments later, Zhongli speaks. “Darling, come here. I want to hold you.”

Childe pulls out and unhooks the harness. It’s tossed to the side in the bedsheets and they both ignore the mess, opting to worry about it later. When Childe presses into Zhongli’s side it’s like coming home. He smells like sweat and sex, but also the earth, and soil.

“I missed you.” Zhongli kisses his forehead and pets his hair, chuckling softly as Childe melts at his words, slack in the bed.

“I told Katya she isn’t allowed to dictate my schedule anymore. She did it on purpose.”

“On purpose?”

“I’m never gone for more than a week. This is punishment for walking in on us in my office—”

Zhongli scoffs. “Then she should punish me as that was my fault, if I recall.”

As if Katya would punish a once-archon and still-god. Childe snorts against his neck and mutters, “She’ll be punishing us for years.”

“All the more reason to punish her back.”

Childe peels away just far enough to give Zhongli a lopsided smirk. “Why, Mr. Zhongli, are you insinuating that you might be interested in certain… dastardly activities?”

“If my options are limited and the only place that I can accost my mate is at his place of work, then so be it.” Zhongli smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkly slightly. He combs his claws through Childe’s hair, dragging their tips across his scalp. “She is a fool to think that I'll easily let her squirrel you away.”

“It’s work,” Childe reminds him. “And it makes me tired.”

“Surely not too tired for more.”

Childe has just closed his eyes when Zhongli says it. He cracks one up and tilts his face up. “More?”

“Mhm, I would ask you to—how is it you put it the last time? Sit on my face? But if you’re too tired—”

Childe is never too tired. Childe shoots up in the bed, already slinging his leg around Zhongli’s waist, barely catching himself in the process.

Zhongli settles into the pillows, eyes glowing in the low lamplight of their room. His hands trace the sharp line of Childe’s hips, thumbing over scars and freckles. “That isn’t my face,” he says with a heady, devilish grin.

Childe returns the smirk and moves, because who is he to deny such a request of his god?

#Cavalierious Fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin #childe/zhongli #tartaglia/zhongli #tartali #genshin smut #smooth and weathered #writing commissions

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cavalierious-whim · 2 months

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Heroes of Old

Childe, a Harbinger of the Round table, is sent to a small town in Liyue to hunt down the dragon known as Rex Lapis. Written for Eclipse, a Tartali AU Zine.

Read here on AO3. You can also, follow me on Twitter and Blue Sky.

This was a sponsored prompt; if you're interested in sponsoring one yourself, you can find the info here on my Ko-Fi account under the Commission tab.

You can purchase Digital PDFs of some of my works here on Gumroad.

Pre-Orders for physical books of selected works are still open for preorder in my Big Cartel Shop here.

And you can follow my Patreon here as well!

“It is a simple matter for one such as yourself.” The Tsaritsa pauses, flicking away a spot of ice that curls around her wrist. “Far to the south lies a village in need. They say that Morax has risen again, terrorizing their home with his cruel, golden-eyed gaze.”

A preposterous idea to most but one that makes Childe’s blood sing. The challenge is too good, pulling and plucking at his being, calling to him with a subtle swan song that sets his veins on fire. But, he cannot seem too eager in the face of his god.

“Morax,” he starts, still unable to stop the curve to his grin. “That seems unlikely.”

“I feel it in the ley lines.” The Tsaritsa drags a sharp nail across the arm of her throne. “Like calls to like, as they say, and we are kin in the way that we are both children of Celestia. I feel the way his blood boils, I can taste it on the wind.”

He lifts his chin confidently. “When do I set out?”

“Immediately. There is no time to waste.”

Childe falls to his knee easily, a practiced motion that he’s done time and time again. One hand over his chest plate, the gentle dip of his head—all to lay himself bare before the Queen Beloved.

In return, she sends him off without a word.

Far to the south is the reaches of Liyue where the people work until their backs are bent and their fingers bleed.

Childe stands at the edge of Qingce Village, tapping his boot against the ground. He is out of place here, wearing the full armor of a Harbinger of the Round Table, helmet tucked under his arm. He takes a step forward and a child runs away on skittish feet. Another watches him from behind a crate, eyes wide with wonder as she peeks over her fingers. Adults step around him with wary, suspicious gazes, fleeting around his side at no less than ten paces.

Something is off. These people do not want him here. Childe presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he thinks. If they have not called him here, then who? The Tsaritsa, he knows, must have taken matters into her own hands, perhaps because this village was too stubborn to ask for help.

But these people do not look scared. They whisper Morax’s name in awe behind soil-stained hands.

There is a tugging at his side, near his waist. Childe’s face tips down to find a boy staring back, face round with wide, chubby cheeks. He tugs again and says, “Sir Harbinger, right?”

Childe dips low, kneeling until they are the same height. He reaches out and ruffles the boy’s hair, who sputters, cheeks tinting red. “Do you like knights?”

The boy nods. And then he says, “Wuwang Hill, just where the mountain crests and the stone turns dark.”

“Wuwang Hill?”

“It is where he waits for you. The Consultant. Said he’d give me one hundred Mora for passing on the message—but he forgot.” The boy then waits expectantly, hand held out, flat and steady.

Childe huffs, shoves a hand into his purse, and pulls out a glittering golden coin. He twirls it around with a flourish and the boy reaches, but his fingers just graze it as Childe tugs it back. “A moment,” he says, flashing a second coin. “Another if you answer a question.”

The boy nods greedily, fingers itching to take the gold.

“Right, then. Tell me—are you not afraid of Morax?”

The boy squirms at the mention of the old dragon’s name. “Lord Morax saves us,” he says simply. Childe swallows this knowledge down, mulling over it. Then he drops both coins into his grimy little hand, and then adds a third because he pities him.

“Wuwang Hill,” says the boy again, “where the shadows creep and darkness lurks.”

Childe ruffles his hair and laughs. He doesn’t believe in fairytales. These rural folk are the ones that breathe life into them, insistent with their old superstitions.

At the top of Wuwang Hill, Childe is greeted by a glowing gate that leads straight to the Abyss.

He hisses, hiding his nose in the crook of his elbow. The acrid tang of sweat, rust, and metal fills his nose; but it is better than the reek of rot and death. Even now, it tugs at him. The Abyss. He wants to go to it, sinking back into the depths that he once called home—

“I expect our meetings to take place on time in the future.”

Childe freezes. It’s hard to tear his gaze away from the gate, but he manages. The Consultant is a tall, thin man, his wispy, finely-boned limbs hidden by rough-spun robes. He stands there, primly, hands held behind his back. Solid as stone, feet planted into the ground, entirely unbothered by the Abyssal taint that surrounds them.

“I apologize. I was surprised by the village’s… lack of concern for the matter at hand.”

The Consultant sighs at that. “Legends are legends—they get handed around. It is natural to think your Tsaritsa would be worried.”

Your Tsaritsa. “That’s the sort of blasphemous talk that I usually handle,” drawls Childe. It is no secret that his hand is swift when it comes to cutting out the tongues of those who speak ill.

“Ah. Apologies, then. I didn’t mean to offend.” The Consultant seems uncaring about his lack of propriety.

Childe is a Harbinger, he deserves respect, but— “You’re in luck, then,” he says instead, surprising himself. “The only head I was told to bring back was that of Morax himself.”

The Consultant does something strange, then. He smiles, a wry thing that crinkles the edges of his eyes and makes him look older and wiser, and perhaps even dangerous. It is not the smile of a normal man, it is serpentine as his teeth peek out from rosy lips. “A pity,” he says.

“For Morax?”

“For you.” The Consultant does not elaborate, he just waves him over, and like a moth to a flame, Childe goes without restraint.

The Consultant gestures to the gate. “You likely cannot see it, but there is a seal—”

“I can see it.”

The Consultant pauses, head tilted to the side. “Interesting,” he murmurs, tapping his chin in thought. His eyes are golden and they watch Childe with newfound interest. “Ah, right—the seal. While effective, it is old, and like most things, will break down. It is only a matter of time now.”

“What is your point?”

“This is what the Tsaritsa should be concerned about, not Morax. He is spending his time trying to find a solution—�� Childe bursts into laughter and the Consultant stops. “Have I said something funny?”

“Only implied that Morax is actually alive and well.” Even if the Tsaritsa had been convinced, Childe was and still is, not. The Consultant looks amused. “Look,” continues Childe, waving to the gate. “I’m not here for that. If you can just point me in the direction of Morax then I can do my job and get out of here.”

“If you kill Morax, this village will die. Karma rots this gate and once the Abyss is unleashed, it’ll only seep into the land. You’re a Harbinger, correct? You know what that does.”

Childe does. He’s seen plains turn to blistering hot deserts, and skies that are choked with dusk and smoke. Once the rot seeps in and karma lays waste, there is no coming back from it—and there are no gods left to reverse the damage like in the days of old. He’s hunted most of them down.

The Consultant sighs again. “Morax will likely choose to challenge you. He doesn't like his name being tarnished. As to when that will be—well, you might just have to be patient.” He tugs at his robes, distracting himself. “In the meantime—are you hungry? Miss Xiangling is no doubt nearly done with the night’s dinner.”

Childe blinks. “Are you asking me on a date?” The only thing that Childe dates is death itself.

The Consultant blinks back and laughs dryly. “I do think that I am merely being a gracious host.”

For once, Childe is embarrassed, turning pink with sheepishness. But, at least the Consultant doesn’t hold it against him.

Days stretch into weeks, and there is no sight of Morax.

It matters not how often Childe asks—at the mere mention of him, The Consultant derails the thought.

“Ah, but Zhongli,” says Childe with far more familiarity than most would see fit. “Morax was a man of distinction in war-time—”

“The Primordial Jade-Winged Spear,” cuts in Zhongli. He nods towards a boulder in the center of the village. A slightly bent lance sticks out from it, the blade smelted into the rock. “Morax crafted this with his own hands in order to quell the raging of the sea beast Baqiu.”

“Oh did he?”

“So the stories say. It waits for a new hero worthy of it.”

At first, Zhongli’s verbose utterances about the past irritated him. Childe does not sit idle; he is a man of action, quick with his blade and cruel with his might, and as a Harbinger it is his job to hunt down the gods of old in Celestia’s name. Morax made his bed by leaving Celestia and blaspheming her name before melting away into nothing but memories. But Zhongli’s words have needled deep. It is weeks later, now, and Childe leans into his baritone timbre, far too interested in the mythos of a place that isn’t even his home.

They share meals and tea. They take long walks where they knock shoulders together, and Zhongli drones on about everything and nothing. Childe should be concerned with Morax, not that crumbling Abyssal gate, and what it might do to this sleepy village. He should be dreaming of a god’s head in his hands, not how soft Zhongli’s lips might be if pressed against his.

Zhongli nudges Childe gently with an elbow. “I figured this would appeal to you, considering the hero that you are.”

“I’m no hero,” says Childe. A Harbinger is just a bully that wears the skin of one.

Zhongli watches him for a long moment before saying, “Let’s continue, then, shall we? I won’t bore you with the details of this old thing anymore.”

Childe almost forgets about Morax in favor of the heat of Zhongli’s hand when he grasps him by the elbow. It isn’t until Childe nearly forgets about His Queen Beloved that he realizes just how much trouble he’s in.

“Ajax.”

Childe jerks awake at the sound of Zhongli hissing his given name. His room is empty. The sheets next to him are unrumpled. He slept alone that night, cold in the soft-spun silk in Zhongli’s absence. He is bereft for a moment, his fingers curling into those sheets, and then he remembers that hiss in his ear.

Something is wrong. Darkness clings to Childe. It coats his skin, thick and oily; cawls down his throat, trying to sink in deep, drowning him in icy hatred. Outside his borrowed room, the town is on high alert. He hears yelling, shouting, and the clanging of metal. It’s then that Childe’s focus sharpens.

The Abyss.

“Ajax!” Zhongli’s voice again, slicing through the air like a whip crack.

Childe jerks into action, tossing on some trousers and tugging the first shirt he can find over his head before throwing himself outside.

The seal must’ve broken. Abyssal taint creeps down the mountainside and threatens to sweep the village. People run around crazed and Childe stands there, stock still.

The darkness, that’s what you are. Come home.

“No,” murmurs Childe, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Home is—”

In this quiet village, tucked away in Liyue, where the people have warmed to him despite being a red-haired devil. At the side of Zhongli who speaks in fancy words in dulcet tones. Childe’s heart lurches as he licks his lips.

The spear. It’s the dumbest idea he’s ever had but Childe darts through the square in desperation. I

Zhongli is in the middle of the fray, hands curled around his own lance, twirling it around with expert ease. Childe should be more surprised but he isn’t. There’s always been something about the man, something barely off—

Ajax, whispers that second voice. It strikes cold dread into his heart, unlike the warmth the Zhongli’s call breeds.

“No,” he mutters, pushing away.

Like calls to like, you are one with us, don’t you remember?

Childe does but he’d rather protect Qingce Village. The spear is cold underneath his fingers as he yanks. Metal screeches as it slides from the stone.

Zhongli turns, eyes narrowed, his gaze tracking the length of him. Childe stares at the weapon in his hands, marveling at how natural it feels there, how easily it slid from the stone as if it finds his palm home.

It waits for a new hero worthy of it.

“Ajax, move—”

Childe barely ducks in time. He’s a magnet. The Abyss seeks out what it’s lost and it wants to claim him again. Childe swings the spear around, but it’s only a matter of time before there’s too much to handle. Darkness reaches for him—only for another person to step in the way.

Fury floods through him. “Zhongli!” he snaps, already striking out again.

Once closer, though, he sees Zhongli’s form ripple before melting away. Antlers crown his head. His hair flows free, whipping in the gales, and obsidian scales glint in the moonlight. He holds a hand out, Geo pulsing above it, and the land around them shifts, quaking with the barest squeeze of his palm.

Childe remembers something Zhongli said once.

“I merely care for Liyue, as a father cares for his children.”

Childe’s throat is dry. “M-Morax?”

“Not now, Ajax.”

Suddenly he regrets telling Zhongli his real name, a soft whisper in the night blurted in the throes of hungry passion. “But you—”

“Not now. I have a contract to keep, which is not with you.” Zhongli watches the Abyssal taint that hovers before him, curious. It wavers, hesitating, knowing just who he is. “You were to leave the seal alone,” says Zhongli. “I was always going to have to replace it, but have you forgotten our bargain?”

The Abyss hisses at him, a tendril striking through the air, only to stop dead the moment it smacks against a golden shield. So effortless. The seal couldn’t be repaired easily so Zhongli waited for it to break. “A patch won’t work. The seal is old and decayed, too unstable, and so it will have to be entirely rebuilt.”

Childe should’ve realized. Zhongli has never hidden who he is, only answered the wrong questions asked with mirth in his eyes.

Zhongli sweeps his hand from one side to the other. The Abyss shudders, shrinking in on itself, rearing back as Geo coalesces around it. Zhongli forces it back to the foot of the mountain. His other hand jerks as he cuts a hole into the earth there, creating a new gate. He presses the Abyss right into it with startling ease, then weaves the most intricate seal that Childe’s ever seen.

It took nothing. Nothing. With the wave of Zhongli’s hand, the Abyss has been forced into a new prison.

When all is said and done, Zhongli lurches, losing his ground. Childe drops the spear and crosses the distance to catch him by the waist. “You—”

Zhongli grunts. “Tired,” he murmurs, pressing his face into Childe’s sweaty nape. And then: “Ajax.”

“I’m… very annoyed.”

Zhongli hums at that, a chuckle spilling from his lips. He braces himself against Childe and finds his footing. Then, he curls a hand around Childe’s neck and presses their foreheads together. His scales prick Childe’s skin. “My hero.”

He is not. “I did nothing. You…”

“This wasn’t your fight—it never was. But, I knew from the moment I saw you that you were destined for more—far more than you can achieve with your Tsaritsa. Later. In the future. I’ll consult with Madame Ping. But first—” Zhongli’s hands are warm against Childe’s face. They butt noses as he shifts. Zhongli’s lips are chapped and his kiss is sweet. “You meant to save me,” he whispers against his mouth.

“I love you,” replies Childe, realizing where his loyalty now lies.

Zhongli’s chest rumbles in delight. “This old dragon is pleased,” he says before seeking out his lips once more.

#Cavalierious Fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin #childe/zhongli #tartaglia/zhongli #tartali

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