GODSPEED

dash only killua zoldyck. by west.

[ningyoshii]

hey big brother what should i wear today

“Oh…” A pensive hum rolls from his throat before turning to his younger sibling’s closet. “Well, that’s easy.”

He affectionately picks out camouflage pants and a yellow-and-red t-shirt, dangling them in either hand with a satisfied expression breaking through such apathetic overlay. “I’m pleased you’re finally seeking my aid for these things, Killu.”

[ningyoshii]

hey. hey illumi. hey hi. uh. why is there always a bird in home depot?

            don’t ask questions you aren’t prepared to handle the answers to, killu.

[traumasuggestion]

shh shh be quiet and it’ll all be over soon. Be quiet and it won’t hurt so much.

[ningyoshii]

small child's frame falls asleep on his brother's shoulder. he's too young to last through such a long flight fully awake.

THE SUDDEN WEIGHT UPON HIS SHOULDER STRIKES HIM ENOUGH TO SHIFT A VACANT GAZE TOWARDS HIS YOUNGER SIBLING, THIN EYEBROWS RAISING WITH CURIOSITY. Trips such as these are strenuous on the body, no doubt, so it shouldn’t have been shocking that his younger brother had drifted off ( he was barely nine, after all ) – but it did, in all irony, in all humor. Perhaps it was due to just how close Killua is, and how warm his cheek felt against his shoulder; he isn’t used to any human contact outside of training and the job itself, and the feeling of such a delicate touch against him, soft as plush pillows is daresay a bit of a shock. What may seem to be so commonplace to most is utterly foreign to Illumi, no less the entire Zoldyck bloodline– and so when he watches Killua, he does so with an odd fascination as if peering through a microscope at something so foreign ( yet so picturesque ) that he’s nearly too bewitched to shift and manipulate it.

Even in the private jet, they would still have a number of hours left until they reached home – and Illumi sees no need in waking him, anyway; he may as well rest while he can. Rather than stirring Killua, he silently watches his shoulders rise and fall; he begins studying the way his eyes shift just beneath their closed lids; he examines the faint, subconscious shifts and twitches from his sleeping form; he notices just how vulnerable he appears now, body weight completely slumped against the habitually tense posture of his elder brother. Illumi’s gut clenches just faintly, just briefly; slim digits reach outward and grab – no, they guide his brother, carefully allowing him to slide down into a more comfortable position, resting his head on his lap rather than the cut, bony shoulder he originally slept at. At least now he’d be able to shift without potentially causing Killua to shift off; this would be best for both of them, no doubt.

And one hand dares to ventures down, lightly settling upon the nest of soft, white hair now resting upon his legs. Fingers curl curiously; a brief stroke is offered, nothing more. How rare it is to expose such affection ( even in situations such as these ), yet in truth it’s difficult not to – not when his brother looks like this. Comfortable; relaxed; at home with him. Yes, at home even without being home. It’s certainly odd not to hear the sharp and sometimes silver tongue that his sibling usually provides; needless to say, such a compliance and tranquility is welcomed. Such a subconscious desire to rest onto him, seeking out comfort by resorting to his big brother, is welcomed. It’s always welcomed. It’s always welcomed. A silent moment passes before his owlish gaze parts, tearing his gaze away and tilting his head back to peer through the window, studying wisps of thick, crystallized vapor just below them. Ah, it’s the little things…

[loveandjustice]

[chokosoku-blog]

Don't think I'm not looking Killu. I see what you're spending. You're spending like a crazy person. At Marshalls. At Target. The other day $26.00 for a bagel. Stop already. You think you're Beyonce.

@ningyoshii

         [ sms ] bröther: where did you get this number

[chokosoku-blog]

             ‘ today my brother pushed me so i’m starting a kickstarter to put him down. the benefits of killing him would be i would get pushed way less -- ’

[feel-the-lyrics]

“I want to see you smile but know that means I’ll have to leave”

— Marshmello ft. Bastille - Happier

[chokosoku-blog]

orders pizza for dinner

@ningyoshii

          ‘ if you poison this i’m running away again and REALLY never coming back this time. ’

[zozozozozozozozosh]

 a collection of distressing images i like to call *idk why but that scene in the hunter exam marked me forever*

[ningyoshii]

b. bitch.

                  that,t,s,., no  t how you spea k to your,;;, favorit e big brother killu ^_^

[chokosoku-blog]

gonna have a verse on this blog with @ningyoshii where illumi uses needles on killua to keep him from ever wanting to leave and make him more Assassin-like. i’ll write more on it later!

[chokosoku-blog]

slips slim fingers into his hair, ruffling it with a rare (yet subtle) smile. ' you'll thank me for all of this later, kil. '

@ningyoshii

            it’s his reflex to want to flinch, and yet the nature of the zoldyck is to still. but his brother’s touch is far from something he welcomed anymore -- flooded with only bad memories. years of abuse took their toll on their sibling relationship; no familiar bond could stitch that brotherly affection back together. not on killua’s end, at least. he can’t trust him -- can’t force himself to want to be around him. not when just looking into void gaze turns his stomach and sends an undesired chill through him just under the skin. he feels so small around illumi -- despite all he’s been through and all he has done, killua reverts to all but a child; afraid and yet deeply boiling with anger and electric resentment. 

               but he doesn’t show any of this. no, he allows the fingers to toss through his already characteristically messy hair and eyes follow his brother’s gaze, only briefly flicking to that unsettling curve to his mouth. and a scowl turns his own lips, thin brows knitting ever so slightly. 

               ‘ yeah, somehow i doubt that. ’ he mutters, just loud enough for illumi to hear. 

[chokosoku-blog]

ningyoshii‌:

@chokosoku​​ / sc.

HIS LITHE FRAME LINGERS NOT FAR BEHIND HIS YOUNGER SIBLING WITH A PRESENCE THAT COULD ONLY BE DESCRIBED AS PETRIFYING. Perhaps the menacing atmosphere wafting off would be lessened had it not been for the mechanistic posture by which stiff shoulders hold the body, or the widened eyes that never once trail from Killua himself, nor never once bother to blink ( almost as if he needn’t waste his time – or, perhaps, almost as if blinking is a setback. A natural tendency which, even for but a millisecond, will release his gaze ). He appears hardly human, yet the inner workings of such a mind bleeds an affection for the aforementioned boy, baleful gaze a mere overlay – and an accidental one, at that – for his endearment.

Be that as it may, he finds his demeanor towards Killua hardly bizarre; the attachment he holds for the young boy is not obsessive, but rather normal, brotherly behavior. Killua is merely misguided. Those of whom are led astray, however, can always dip back into the right path with the correct guidance. Control has a stigma attached to it; power has a stigma to it. Those factors, played in the correct hands, are not malignant in the slightest. If Killua is a puppet, then he’d ought to be the puppeteer. If Killua is to be a pawn, then his hand should be the one that moves him. It’s merely what any elder brother would do for his siblings; guidance and dominance are practically innate in such a role, no less in such an unfortunate situation such as this.

Refusal of such a preordained purpose; a viper denying its venomous hold.

Despite his generally automatonlike nature and vacant gaze, his current expression looks minutely gentler while watching – while studying Killua. Eyebrows are raised with inklings of livelihood only manifested in rare moments such as these, head ever-so-slightly tilted to the right: a display of his near-lighthearted fascination. “Hello, Kil.” A lackluster voice rips through detrimental silence; he speaks simply and lightly with near-inappropriate placidity ( so rarely does much phase him ). He does not bother to inch forward. Not yet, at least; rather, he waits nearby, opting to observe casually for the time being. “You have a moment, don’t you?” Posed as a question – yet more so implied as an implication. A demand. A statement: You do have time for me. You practically always do. “I’d like to talk.”

          killua is no stranger to paranoia. it eats away at his heart and keeps him wide awake at night when those around him sleep so soundly -- he never has understood a world he could feel truly safe in. he had never felt the sensation of complete comfort. he’d come close, of course; gon most immediately had offered at least a distraction from his fear. he’d learned to live a life that paralleled something normal that a child would live; he wanted that so bad. to be free of his bloodright, to just be a kid, no longer a killer. 

            if only he could be so lucky. but his past follows him around like a plague; a scar on his soul impossible to scrub off no matter how hard he tried. he wanted to reject his family -- reject the past he never wanted that only tormented his nights and served as a chilling reminder of all the horrors he committed. he could never escape; that thought rings through his mind like some odd hallucination -- and with nearly a familiar monotone voice. 

                             he could never escape. 

            and now his fears are once again brought to the forefront as he feels that familiar and ever overbearing presence begin to creep its way into his life. he feels illumi long before he sees him; however without the skills or practice to pinpoint him with any definite conclusion. so he lives with the weight of that stalking presence on his heels, tries to play it off as natural as possible ( no need to unnecessarily worry gon when it would only make him mad ). it’s not until he’s alone that he finally is able to sense exactly where illumi is; though it’s clear that’s by his older brother’s choice and not by any skill or chance. 

             he whips around, a searing anger in those ice blue eyes that he only hopes masks the inner workings of fear that plague him. it’s a bile bubbling up in his gut, pricking the back of his throat with sour taste and a chilling shaking in his muscles that he just can barely stifle. he doesn’t want to seem weak -- no, he can’t  seem weak. illumi would dig his claws into that weakness like a predator consuming prey, a vicious tearing through whatever shielded muscle he had up and right into the soul of him until he was all but brainwashed again. and he’d fought so hard -- he fought so hard to be free. 

              ‘ fine. ’ his voice is cold and short, and even still it takes him a moment to gain the confidence to step forwards; to close any sort of distance between him and his brother. but he does, and they’re isolated even in the wide open. ‘ how did you find me again -- and what do you want? ’ cut right to the point; he wants this over as quick as possible, wants to escape back to the warmth and light of his friend and far away from the seeping, oozing bloodlust that illumi always injected into the air, sinking the sensation of dread deep into the young boy’s veins. ‘ if you try anything i’ll just kill you and leave. ’ a lie easy enough to see through, but the confidence tasted nice on silver tongue even for a moment. 

[rocknen-blog]

                                little did i know when i was reaching out to help you                                           i was just as much in need of a rescue.

            tell me who saved who, now? // tell me who saved who, now?

indie priv GON & KILLUA, both loved by SIREN & WEST / ac.

[ningyoshii]

leg

violent & aggressive starters | accepting.

FINGERS TREAD OVER THE THICK FLESH OF HIS SIBLING’S THIGH, GHOSTING PAST THE KNEECAP AND FINALLY HALTING AT HIS UPPER SHIN, ALREADY SPLIT OPEN BY THE LIKES OF A SCALPEL. Interrogative owls’ eyes peer towards the snow-white complexion of his brother, skilled digits lightly squeezing against the thin skin tight enough to feel his bone just beneath. Ushering Killua in, no less restraining him to such an extent, is nothing that Illumi took particular pleasure from – yet even more so did he dislike Killua’s wandering tendencies, a phase of which could potentially be ruinous if the family ( if he ) didn’t intervene swiftly enough. His rather vigorous studies of modern medicine and anatomy paired with his training left him nearly one hundred percent confident that Killua would prosper from such an endeavor, no less remind him where he belongs. He is, after all, his beloved brother – he would do nothing that would damage him beyond repair. He would do nothing that would direct him down the incorrect path.

No, this was out of pure love; raw, unadulterated affection which bubbles passionately in the pit of the Illumi’s stomach like noxious muck. And when he speaks, his voice is gentle, void-like gaze glimmering with the hungry expression shared with a wildcat close to starvation. “It’s okay, really,” he murmurs, and the blade of a saw presses firm against him, cold and ravenous; “I won’t remove much – you’ll make a full recovery, I assure you.” Hushed tones beneath the soft breath of fire, sole light within the room flickering and lapping desperately at nothing in particular. It would be wrong to wonder if Killua couldn’t operate with false limbs later in life; it never once passed his mind; he was the strongest of them all, though within that strength lies the need to be steered by a steady adviser. Venturing outside to bond or anything similar would be the last thing on his mind, now; there would be no concern for silly ‘friendships’, now.

                                                          He would stay;                                                                        he would stay;                                                                                     he would stay.

His arm jerks; the saw’s blades heave to life in a heartbeat and soon begin hacking away at Killua’s bone, violently chipping and snapping like an ever-weakening limb of a tree. And yet Illumi remains unflinching, unblinking; his gaze is trained upon collagen and calcium as he saws away slowly, meticulously, until finally – finally does the affected leg fall gracelessly from the body, discarded gently upon a wide tool-table just behind them. The opposite is quick to be snapped off, as well; the sickening grind as bone splinters apart echoes throughout the chambers, friction from saw against bone sounding akin to nails upon a chalkboard; yet those apathetic void-eyes stare, endless depths of a dark abyss with waters far too cold to venture through; far too dark to navigate through; far too chilling to even wish to try.

“There we are.” Pale hands are blemished with the slight stain of blood as his weapon is soon replaced by a sterile needle and thread, pinched expertly betwixt long fingers. “Now, all we have to do is stitch you up. That wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you’ll adjust pretty quickly.”

Nonchalance rests in his tone, weaving his needle through and out plump meat to close the controlled wounds, hooded gaze never once leaving them until the incisions are closed to his liking; tight, but not to the point where he could so easily tear them from flexing or shifting in an awkward way. Only then does his gaze opt to travel to meet his younger brother’s crystal gaze, free hand gently thumbing over a set of stitches in a gentle, halfway proprietorial gesture. “I won’t have you running off again, Kil. You’ll be staying here, where you’re needed.” His tone is gentle; eerily still, digits still in contact with warm flesh smooth against the pad of his thumb. 

              “You never really had any other choice.”

[chokosoku-blog]

slumps his body against his friend. "killuaaaaa ! i'm so hungry !"

@trusthunt

           ‘ yeah, i ate all the snacks we had. that’s what you get for eating the last box of chocorobots. ’