▇01. OOC▇ — What the FUCK is up my good friends it's always Sam here! 25+ years old and going, timezone is EU (GMT +2), I'm mutuals only & selective, blocking minors that perouse my blog like it's a job. Discord is available to mutuals. Smut will be moved to Discord or put under a read more & tagged. Activity in summer tends to dip!▇02. INTERACTIONS▇ — This blog is OC friendly, and extremely duplicate friendly as per me & my buddies shenanigans with the Kaeya Council. I tend to prioritize mains & shipping partners for replies & answering their asks. Do give me a little push if you think I've forgotten to reply to a thread or an ask! My activity is essentially a rollercoaster of energy spikes.▇03. DRAMA LLAMA▇ — I am not interested in OOC drama of any kind. If there's a problem with me, what I'm doing, how I'm acting, etc., I kindly request that you communicate this with me so we can solve it ASAP. I do not condone callout culture & witch-hunts, or group bullying. I consider roleplaying an hobby, and I'm here to have fun.

▇04. SHIPPING▇ — In order for me to comfortably ship with you, I need three things:

I am open to try a more casual approach at shipping without labels, I, however, need a decent-ish level of OOC communication to comfortably ship something.— I will break a CONSOLIDATED ship off if:

▇05. FORMATTING▇ — I usually use a pretty light amount of formatting on this blog, just the bare minimum to pretend to be fancy, and will match a less formatted & iconless replies with the same. I will try not to use special & hard to read characters/symbols in my replies or tags. Let me know if you'd like for me to avoid using icons on a thread for a mobile-friendly approach!▇06. TRIGGER WARNINGS▇ — This blog will feature mentions of: recreative alcohol use, addiction, extensive mentions of violence / possible gore, possible mentions of torture & relative topics, extensive description of multiple traumas & their impact on the psyche, self-harm, disfunctional relationships & more. All will be tagged.

▇HONKAI: STAR RAIL VERSE.▇ — a traveler with a secret: an artificial nature, a being created by Mythus to fog specific parts of the Great Catastrophe, the offense against Aeons that ended the existence of his homeplanet after the inhabitants tinkered with something forbidden. taken under the wing of Gallagher, he has by long forgone who he was to take the identity of ''Kaeya Alberich'', a person long deceased from the planet of Tayvet. a tranquil young man with cobalt hair with a preference for logic things, carrying a purpose with him.▇ABYSS VERSE.▇ — there's a wolf among the sheeps of Mondstadt, and he wears his veil of wool well. The traitor wants to start a revolution that will grant justice that was once lost, the survivors whisper among eachother. He wants to bring down the heavens, it's rumored. There's nothing else that i know how to do but this, the empty prince muses to himself; and perseveres. There's nothing else that he can do, the puppet that he is. there's nothing else that he can do: it ends with him. There can be no other conclusion.

▇MODERN VERSE.▇ — the Alberich family has been well known through the years for their horse racing business: there's nothing that elicits such a visceral, controversial response in the city than their last name... And there's nobody who keeps horses in such pristine condition and well taken care of of as they do. A horse raised by the Alberich's is always a safe choice, as all their customers know. The appetizing risk of gambling, however tasty the reward may be in case of a win, is bound to attract some unwanted attention...▇DISGUISED FATUI VERSE.▇ — A spy has infiltrated the Fatui ranks, rousing no suspicions when a superior stops themselves in front of the bashful, stuttering fool of a mask he's put on. For all that the others know, he's another one of them, with the same frosty air in his lungs. With a Pyro Agent disguise donned on, he lurks unnoticed in search of informations for his cause: Kaeya Alberich, posing as a shy Fatuus named Ambroise Petrov, wonders if a deathly mission has the right to feel so thrilling.▇UMA MUSUME VERSE.▇ — Being assigned Bolt from the Blue as a trainee is often a spirit-breaking endeavor. An excellent Front Runner with monstrous Speed and Stamina to match... when he wants to act seriously. He's usually defiant and challenging to work with, finding pleasure in his trainer's misery at his mischievous antics. A stallion with a controversial story and a ''cursed'' reputation of his past trainers. with his original one abandoning him and Crepus, his second trainer, dying under mysterious circumstances. The fight that ensued with the other trainee in Crepus care left him with a career-altering injury that blinded his left eye. Bolt from the Blue is the nightmare of trainers with no will to find redemption, preferring to nap on a grassfield under the sun.

• Status: Consolidated relationship

Tension boils high in the city of Mondstadt as a particulary rowdy faction of the Fatui have enstabilished themselves in the city; protected by political motives, causing discontent among the citizens and giving major headaches to the understaffed, overworked members of the Favoius Ordo. Guideless dogs become rowdy, and there's nobody who gets them more than the cavalry captain? The quartermaster of the Favonius Headquarters, who uses words like weapons and caresses both, is sent to meet the newly-appointed hubbhubb sent to replace La Signora- and finds himself face to face with the last of the Harbingers: the young prodigy, the Eleventh. Tartaglia. Childe. A man has many names, and Kaeya is interested in knowing what's under so many identities. When the reciprocal interest sparked between men turns into something physical, Kaeya has no idea that Childe's growing presence would revolution his life so.

It happens almost unnoticed, the setting into domesticity, the easy taming of irrequiet souls under the roof of Kaeya's small house. A fitting of puzzle pieces that becomes them. The over-enthusiastical way he's swept with as his dear Ajax appears into the city with becomes his favorite way of being greeted. Isn't this love? There's no one else that knows what's under the prodigy more than Kaeya- no one else that has seen the bare young man underneath the well-oiled weapon, has possessed him so- beyond a simpler relationship. The trading of letters, ink scented with flowery fragrances, soft lips kissing the signatures. This routine is unapologetically theirs, unapologetically them.

• Status: Married old domestic souls

The Truth of Justice, the Warrior of Lan meets a complicated lie with cobalt hair in his path, finds that a lie is not always something unpleasant. The initial distrust between them is weeded out, mended their clumsy approach with eachother. Each time they meet, there's something a little sweeter between them ━ the hard, robotic rasp of a voice shifting into a softer tone. A curl of cobalt around metal-plated finger. There's a softness under the blaze of righteous fury, pleasant as a warm blanket placed upon Kaeya's shoulders. It doesn't click immediately that he's being courted, pursued, even the kisses that leave his knees shaking ━ but when he's given a metal rose made of familiar scraps, it's when it clicks for him. It leaves his head empty, that an object of Deceit like him could be wanted whole.
And then, the Swarm Accident happens. Kaeya is trapped into a world of buzzing wings and terror when jingling spurs come on the Express to bring him comfort. Protection.
And that's how Kaeya knows he loves.

The safety they find in eachother is what prompts the Enigma to lead his dear cowpoke into his private living quarters, what he calls The Room, a series of areas that he hasn't inhabited in a while. Predictably, the Room becomes their private home ━ a safe haven where Boothill can always come back to. And it feels good. It feels good to lose themselves in the chopping of tomatoes, in the slicing and dicing of vegetables, kneading the dough to make frybread as the scent of cooking food fills the kitchenette. There's soft music playing from Kaeya's phone, and Boothill makes him sway to the rhythm, crosshair losing murderous edge, relaxing into their shared bed as he drifts off to sleep while charging. Safe. And Kaeya thinks that this feels just right.

• Status: [CAR SWERVING SOUND] [EXPLOSIONS] [PEOPLE SCREAMING]

That Kaeya actively admires the Elation is no secret, and certaintly not something private. Why wouldn't the Aeon of Elation feel Elated at these feelings, and why shouldn't they bow to true appreciation in the art of Laughters? Why, isn't that flattering? THEY really ought to send THEIR true fan a gift, a gift worth much fun- something, something... something exciting!
And so, Sparkle comes for him like the Dancing Plague of Strasbourg of 1518: out of the blue, with a surge of madness that engufs them both, and then abruptly moving away to go cause some more delicious chaos. Kaeya would lie if he'd say that he wasn't piqued- curiosity and interest makes him lift her polished and colorful masks one by one, in search of the girl hidden under all of those. It's a difficult task where even Sparkle seems to have lost herself in the swirling of colors and performances... but he thinks he can manage. Somehow. After all, his old identity, too, perished in the fire of creation.

She summons a call for his worst parts, and it's hard to resist it for someone so well-behaved and proper as he is: but the swiveling chaos is infectious, the Laughter easier to melt into, and she seems to pull at the most terrifying parts that compose the Enigmata- the horrors of Deceit, unraveling in the forms of illusions. And, as much as Sparkle makes him worse... he seems to be pulling something out of her. He considers every little, pouty, irritated admission of hers a small victory that keeps the pursuit of eachother going- the Emanator of Elation seems to crave his attention, want to be seen by something that isn't even human. And this thing is more than inclined in indulging her. Just to see the glimpse of humanity underneath. For curiosity.