𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄.

𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍. 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮.

[karmawind-a]

hi guys! happy belated anniversary to me. anyways i'm letting you all know that i am ARCHIVING this blog and moving blade to a new one (of the same URL, dw). he deserves a new spot - so feel free to soft block me and meander on over to the new and slightly shinier karmawind that is definitely still a WIP.

[karmawind-a]

at some point im going to assimilate all the headcanons i've dropped in nine and i's server here but for now you all get to live with the knowledge that bl.ade is actually a touch taller and broader than ying.xing was. ying.xing was still quite muscular given all his time at the forge (comparable to jing y.uan, though an inch or so shorter and not AS built), but as bl.ade, even more so - because the abundance emanator genes keep on giving.

[cloudhymnarchived]

          ‘   a dragon, a hero, a sinner. but never a person with love, hatred, sorrow, and joy like everyone else in the world.   ’

          dan feng was learned backwards. what the hatchling learned first was the nightmarish extraction of horns and scales, the whispered threats of precursors that thirst so greedily, so cruely for the power of the imbibitor lunae. what came next after such an unjustifiable act ? their lies. those who had called dan feng heartless had not felt the tears drip from that broken suspended form, chains twisted into skin bled raw from struggling, held aloft by spears that pierced him through at any sign of resistance. and then, the whispered cries for anyone to save him, the imbibitor lunae’s last shred of hope crushed beneath the heel of those who had rewritten history, and deemed this broken protector the greatest threat the luofu had ever faced. were the precursors stupid ? had they really expected dan heng to simply stay put when given the opportunity to leave ? did they really think he would stay, knowing they were capable of ?

          they should have known it from the start, that their reaping would come the day he was saved from the shackling prison - leaving behind a trail of drowned cloud knights in his wake – that monsters are not born, they’re made.

          he was a vision in that glowing pool, clear as crystal, filled with life akin to the lunarescent depths, though the imbibitor lunae had only meditated in its shallow waters for the last few hours. the vidyadhara exhumed the kind of life that was most fearful to the xianzhou, the sort backed deadly beauty, churning depths, hubris and rage. one day he would return his isolation, his torture, his harvesting on the luofu tenfold, and then the violation of dan feng a thousand. but until then he bided his time, took this chance to experience the world outside the same eight hundred and forty two slabs of his concrete prison. not a week since his rescue, the stellaron hunter had tracked him down to resume their dance to the death, and oh, how dan heng had craved the idea of being wanted, in any obsessive form. as those glowing luminescent eyes opened to watch him, the emanator wondered if he would ever understand the root of blade’s creation. how long had he been a sea of spider lily’d malevolence ?

          the imbibitor lunae rested upon the surface of the water, now more in contemplation than meditation. a neat pile of clothes resting at the entrance to the small pool, he was garbed in near translucent white robes, time to think under the guise of leaving to bathe. the vidyadhara lay upon the water as if he was draped on some ornamental lounge, as if lying on some invisible floor that still made elegant hands come away wet to the touch. his command of it was effortless, whether walking upon the surface, or using the pool as his own personal rock to bask as he saw fit. he did not fight as blade moved him, unfazed, curious even, if the tilt of majestic horns was anything to go by. with exasperated sigh, dan heng rose into a sitting position above the water’s surface. it was as if he had made the element his own perch, rear and thighs sitting comfortably upon it, while calves and feet submerged into the water as if he sat on the edge of a pier, the hunter between svelte legs.

          dan heng had already begun the process of reconstruction. fibres knitted together, muscles renewed, bones snapping back into place. this was his nature as an emanator of yaoshi, as the imbibitor lunae : to tame mara. but to be ordered around, bent to the whims of others. he was not. he was, after all, dan feng’s reincarnation. there was pride in him unlike no other, spurned by the wrongs of his upbringing. snake like was he, darting out – poisonous – to grip the stellaron hunter’s chin in vice like talons. blade was pretty like this, vulnerable though he did not voice it. nymph - like features wasted on perpetual turmoil and deep set frowns. dan heng could see what blade tried to hide ; torn muscle and frayed sinew, illnesses of the mind, as well as the body. to wield this healing cloud hymn was to play god ; to stall the mara, if only for a moment, was to quieten the receptors of the brain that felt pain, anguish, and despair, if only for a little while. but with that came a choice.

          i can make it better.

          it was present in his eyes, this message, alongside flash of draconic pupils thinning into slits. his nails dug into the lines of that attractive jawline.

          i can make it worse.

          “   say please.   ”

[karmawind-a]

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐭𝐨   𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭,   𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞'𝐬   𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞   𝐰𝐚𝐬   a   warning   -   a   death   bed   cry   witnessed   in   blooms   of   blood   and   spider   lilies,   in   viscera   and   agony   coating   whatever   walls   housed   his   latest   kills.   he   was   a   nightmare   -   a   phantom   haunting   those   set   within   his   sights,   and   given   the   word,   the   swordsman   would   tear   them   apart   limb   from   limb   from   limb,   hardly   blinking   at   the   most   brutal   of   deaths   by   his   hand.   sometimes   -   he   did   it   while   mad   from   mara,   other   times...   it   was   for   him.   whether   he   asked   it   of   blade   or   not,   those   kills   that   he   would   deem   as   doubly   necessary   would   be   met   with   the   most   violent   of   ends.   it   wasn't   that   blade   enjoyed   brutality.   on   the   contrary   -   he   found   it   to   be   slightly   profane.   if   his   time   with   dan   heng   had   taught   him   anything,   it   was   that   cruelty   was   the   preferred   art   form   and   language   of   love.   

ㅤㅤㅤyingxing   had   been   devoted   to   dan   feng,   and   in   turn   -   blade   was   devoted   to   dan   heng.   where   the   furnace   master's   love   had   been   pure   as   unyielding   starlight,   theirs   had   been   sullied   through   heinous   acts   and   necessary   evils.   but   it   mattered   not   to   blade   -   not   really.   there   was   nowhere   dan   heng   could   go   that   blade   would   not   find   him,   for   they   were   two   halves   to   the   same   broken   whole,   and   the   swordsman   knew   the   draw   was   just   the   same   for   the   being   before   him.   

ㅤㅤㅤcarmine   eyes   glow   in   the   low   light,   long   hair   ends   now   damp   with   water.   he   slips   between   svelte   legs   with   ease,   and   for   a   moment   his   hands   linger   at   his   side,   twitching.   he   debates   waiting   for   permission   -   but   thinks   better   of   it,   calloused   fingertips   instead   sinking   into   the   warm   meat   of   plush   thighs   at   the   same   moment   his   skin   begins   to   mend.   blade   does   not   resist   the   sigh   of   relief   that   leaves   him,   though   the   mending   hurts,   it's   ultimately   dan   heng's   presence   that   soothes   both   his   mind   and   pain,   despite   blade   being   very   much   aware   that   the   leash   the   emanator   held   could   just   as   easily   hang   him,   it's   utter   relaxation   with   which   he   looks   at   the   vidyadhara   before   him,   long   lashes   fluttering   over   bright   hues,   and   a   rumble   burning   deep   in   his   chest.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤnot   unlike   a   dragon.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝   please,   dan   heng.   ❞   he   growls   out,   though   they   both   know   he   has   already   started.   indeed,   he's   more   brazen   than   usual,   wriggling   his   head   free   of   clawed   grasp   to   instead   nuzzle   a   silken   palm,   the   barest   ghost   of   lips   catching   gently   over   his   claws.   it's   not   at   all   a   painless   process...   but   oh,   it   matters   not.   he   could   bask   in   the   emanator's   proximity   for   hours   and   feel   this   same,   coveted   peace.   another   brush   of   lips,   this   time   ghosting   towards   a   silken   wrist,   to   which   fangs   mark   a   perfect   pallor   with   his   possessive   nip   before   he   speaks   again,   ❝   i   ripped   them   limb   for   limb   for   you.   nothing   left...   but   ashes.   ❞

[karmawind-a]

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞   𝐡𝐢𝐦   -   an   extra   limb   woven   only   at   the   hand   of   an   abomination   such   as   he   -   is   his   blade.   the   flat   edge   is   turned   outwards,   a   surprisingly   thoughtful   gesture   for   a   supposed   homicidal   maniac   -   as   he   moves   the   sword   in   front   of   caelus   not   unlike   a   bar,   keeping   him   from   advancing   towards   his   query   a   moment   longer.   though   the   shard   sword   weighs   more   than   the   average   starskiff,   he   wields   it   without   thought   -   and   had   blade   possessed   a   sense   of   humor   any   longer,   he   might   have   found   it   amusing   the   way   it   harmlessly   connects   with   the   younger's   chest,   and   once   more   keeps   him   from   skittering   past   the   stellaron   hunter.   

ㅤㅤㅤ❝   no.   ❞   is   all   he   says,   carmine   eyes   fixated   upon   caelus'   handsome   features   with   a   sort   of   docile   intensity   only   brought   forth   when   kafka   held   the   leash   of   his   mara   especially   tight.   ❝   yinyue-ju   -   ...   your   dan   heng,   is   fine.   he   is   with   kafka   and   jing   yuan.   you   are   not   to   enter.   ❞   and   that,   sounded   utterly   final. // @oneireth

[karmawind-a]

this is my favorite icon for no reason in particular.

[karmawind-a]

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩,   𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩,   𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩.   the   sound   of   water   on   a   cave   floor,   the   symphonic   descent   of   liquid   as   it   splashes   against   age   old   rock.   it   grates   at   his   mind   -   his   senses,   stabbing   into   the   mara   that   swirls   about   his   skull,   the   miasma   of   shuhu's   voice   and   the   taint   of   abomination   that   runs   through   his   veins.   he's   followed   him   here   -   a   bloodhound,   on   a   trail,   but   with   the   fire   of   madness   licking   at   his   heels.   he   can   feel   himself   -   slipping   off   that   edge,   teetering   upon   a   cliff   of   oblivion.   one   push   and   he   might   fall   into   that   mad   haze.   perhaps   that   was   why   he   sought   out   imbibitor   lunae   -   for   dan   heng   could   either   be   the   balm   to   his   mental   wound,   or   would   only   make   it   worse.   it   would   be   interesting   to   see   which   it   might   be   tonight.   

ㅤㅤㅤwithin   the   cave   swirled   a   warm   pool   -   devoid   of   fish   and   so   transparent,   it's   like   looking   through   a   mirror.   it's   shallow,   too,   and   that   is   where   he   finds   his   query,   beautiful   as   moon-kissed   night   and   ensconced   in   the   water   that   held   him   so   dear.   in   some   ways,   it   made   blade   sick.   he's   not   being   sneaky   about   it   -   the   way   his   sword   drags   across   stone,   scrapping   loudly   before   clattering   to   the   floor   without   a   thought.   maybe   he'd   leave   it   at   the   bottom   of   the   pool   this   time   -   but   it   would   always   come   back.   that   heated   red   gaze   trains   upon   the   living   embodiment   of   his   madness,   and   blade   bares   his   teeth,   not   unlike   a   wild   animal   scenting   it's   prey.   vengeance,   the   mara   whispers.   peace,   says   another   voice,   and   blade   has   to   let   those   remarkable   hues   drift   shut   for   a   moment   -   has   to   recenter   himself   before   he   is   pulled   under.   

ㅤㅤㅤgaze   filled   with   familiar   intensity,   he   steps,   fully   clothed   -   into   the   water.   stiff   fingertips   fidget   with   the   clasp   of   his   coat,   before   it   falls   away   as   he   advances   upon   dan   heng,   disappearing   into   the   water   with   nary   a   thought   on   the   hunter's   behalf.   beneath   the   fabric   lay   a   familiar   swell   of   bandages   -   but   bloodied,   fresh,   and   still   leaking.   yet,   he   moves   forward,   his   gaze   never   leaving   the   visage   of   his   nightmares,   until   he   has   dan   heng   cornered   against   the   far   wall   and   -

ㅤㅤㅤa   hand   darts   down,   closing   around   the   vidyadhara's   own.   up,   he   pulls   it,   placing   long   fingers   upon   the   bloodied   expanse   of   bandages   and   letting   out   a   hiss.   despite   the   violence   brewing   in   his   gaze,   the   former   craftsman's   touch   is   gentle,   even   if   he's   gritting   his   teeth.   ❝   fix   it.   ❞   comes   his   low   growl,   squeezing   lightly   at   a   finely   boned   wrist.   it   hurts.   but   he   won't   say   that   aloud.   not   now.   not   yet.   // @cloudhymn

[karmawind-a]

blows the dust off this blog. small starter call?

[karmawind-a]

he's in the corner of the archives, staring at blade, blinking both eyes at him individually before lashing out his weird tongue in a gecko like fashion.

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐧𝐨𝐭   𝐟𝐨𝐫   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭   𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞,   𝐡𝐞   𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭   of   wonders   if   the   dragon   gene   had   skipped   dan   heng   and   devolved   straight   into   lizard   house   pet   instead,   but   the   last   time   he'd   voiced   that   concern   he'd   ended   up   beneath   a   great   claw.   this   time,   the   hunter   just   stares   back,   before   reaching   behind   himself   -   and   producing   both   a   small   container   and   a   spritz   bottle.   

ㅤㅤㅤ❝   what?   you   hungry?   want   a   bug?   ❞   one   of   the   containers   makes   a   concerned   chirping   noise,   before   blade   begins   hosing   down   his   lizard   husband   with   the   spray   bottle.   can't   let   dan   heng's   scales   get   dry.

[karmawind-a]

comes back after 3 month hiatus, responds to ren.heng porn, evaporates again,

[cloudhymnarchived]

@karmawind.

          the lascivious daydreams and leftover memories from the last high elders were often looked over by the archivist as if through his fingers, not unlike someone catching something they shouldn’t have. the memories of incarnations were often involuntary founts of knowledge when dan heng was reminiscing, ruminating. he would often find a resulting memory there that he had no recollection of discovering – diving a little deeper into that train of thought would take him on a journey through the eyes of that particular imbibitor lunae. it shouldn’t have been a surprise then, that thoughts of sex with blade, would sometimes be accompanied with memories from dan feng, about yingxing.

          he, more than anyone could understand that they were not the same people they once were, but to call them entirely separate was a falsehood too.

          blade wasn’t yingxing, but kissing him like this dan heng wondered if he would react the same way to the slither of his tail ‘round wrists. he wasn’t yingxing, but would the arch of his back in the throes of pleasure be the same, more enthralling even ? he wasn’t yingxing, but would blade ever bow to the possessive growl of draconic teeth in the same way the craftsman had submitted to dan feng ? the archivist was overcome with an insatiable curiosity, a desire to see blade undone by his hands, which had become rougher and unrelenting with his desire, no longer held back with arbitrary things like decorum and shame. he wanted blade wholly, now curious to see if he would willingly surrender his pleasure.

          tiring blade out was no easy feat. like everything about the swordsman, from his violence to his tenderness, to be intimate was another form of battle. dan heng had seen his little deaths beneath him, arching, shaking cries in blissful rapture and yet still desired more. he was still so enthralled by how blade encapsulated both beauty and brutality, each draw of life – giving blood an exercise in agonising euphoria. even still, wracked with the ecstasy of the orgasm before, blade made his enduring hardness known. were it not for his own agendas, dan heng might have succumbed once more to the feel of it upon his tongue, inside him, any which way blade could have him, but instead summons draconic strength to tussle the hulking man into the sheets.

          dan heng draped himself over the stellaron hunter with loving reverence, pressing kisses upon the nape of his neck, a svelte thigh parting the backs of blade’s strong legs to rest his beneath blade’s waiting length, the slide of dan heng’s own arousal against the curve of his rear. they were gentle but insistent touches, firm, so like dan heng’s whose own beauty shrouded his hidden ferocity – only apparent now when hands gripped into blade’s unruly locks to forcefully crane his neck, mark blade with a prominent bite. mine, mine, mine. when he did speak it was with that same echoing draconic reverb, half growl, half purr, as he nuzzled into the bleeding claim to lap at the blood, almost as if in apology   (   they both knew that dan heng was not sorry in the slightest.   )

          “   allow me this ?   ”   so sweet, so deceptively human, the way the beast nuzzled against the hunter’s neck, his pulse.   “   let me take care of you.   ”

[karmawind-a]

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞   𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐡𝐚𝐝   𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧   𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭   𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡   both   his   hands   and   his   words,   blade   was   not.   where   a   previous   life   had   meant   impassioned   speeches   and   sweet   bedridden   whispers,   the   stellaron   hunter   had   long   since   lost   his   ability   to   convey   things   into   words   -   mostly   because   he   couldn't   process   such   things   as   easily   anymore.   when   it   came   down   to   showing   dan   heng   the   truths   of   his   affections   -   blade   spoke   best   with   his   body.   in   battle   and   bed   both,   the   swordsman   wrote   entire   lines   of   poetry   -   never   ending   sonnets   of   brutality   and   delight   that   left   both   he   and   the   vidyadhara   tangled   together   and   panting   afterwards.   even   without   the   influence   of   mara   -   blade   wanted   to   take,   and   he   was   blessed   that   dan   heng   provided   him   as   much.   

ㅤㅤㅤstill,   in   all   things   -   blade   was   ferocious.   fighting   and   fucking   where   all   done   with   teeth   and   growls,   innate   acts   of   dominance   born   on   the   back   of   the   beast   he'd   become.   there   was   no   submission   in   him   -   not   an   inch   of   it.   perhaps   it   was   the   dragon   heart,   perhaps   it   was   the   mara,   perhaps   it   was   his   bitterness   -   regardless,   he   could   not   be   quelled   -   be   tamed,   and   yet   dan   heng   was   always   prepared   to   enjoy   the   force   of   his   teeth   or   driving   hips.   blade   does   remember,   of   course,   the   instances   of   dan   feng   taking   control,   of   the   way   his   mortal   body   would   shatter   beneath   the   dragon's   dominance   and   how   much   he   had   enjoyed   it   -   how   much   he   loved   it   and   eagerly   bare   his   throat   for   the   high   elder.

ㅤㅤㅤbut   things   were   different   now.   it   was   different   -   to   submit   to   the   man   that   had   killed   him   a   multitude   of   times,   that   he   had   only   recently   forgiven   his   vengeance   for.   if   one   had   asked   blade   that   morning   if   he   was   prepared   to   arch   beneath   dan   heng's   slighter   frame,   instinct   of   another   life   almost   taking   over   when   he   shifts   his   body   back   into   him,   baring   his   throat   to   brutal   bites   and   wanton   moans...   well,   he   would   have   laughed   in   that   unearthly   way,   and   probably   stabbed   the   offender.   and   yet   here   he   was,   pale   neck   bared   to   lethal   fangs,   and   his   hips   rolling   into   a   not   insubstantial   length.   

ㅤㅤㅤhe   knows   his   ears   give   him   away,   knows   the   red   dusting   across   his   cheeks   does   too,   as   well   as   how   his   calloused   hands   fist   already   ruined   sheets.   blazing,   ruby   eyes   flick   back   to   the   other,   before   growing   half   lidded   beneath   navy   lashes   as   he   glances   away.   the   flush   on   his   cheeks   is   unmistakable   now,   but   the   hunter's   murmur   is   still   as   gruff   as   ever,   even   if   the   way   he   raises   his   hips,   rolling   backwards   into   dan   heng   in   beckoning   with   a   staggering   sort   of   neediness   directly   contrasts   with   his   words.   

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝   ⸻   it's...   been   a   few   centuries.   be   gentle.   ❞

[karmawind-a]

just want everyone to know I’ll be rebooting this blog a bit over the coming week! I miss my boy and am being ushered back by my scruff.

[frennarts]

[karmawind-a]

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞   𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬   𝐢𝐧   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞   𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫,   simulated   time   making   for   knowledge   that   it   was   the   equivalent   of   'space   midnight.'   the   express   was   fast   asleep,   the   archive's   residents   included.   even   blade,   who   rarely   found   rest,   did   so   tonight.   a   particularly   rough   mission   had   brought   him   to   dan   heng's   doorstep,   and   inevitably,   into   his   bed.   but   it   was   not   a   routine   he   hated,   and   was   one   that   too   oft   quelled   the   swirling   miasma   of   mara   within   him.   his   wounds   would   heal,   his   aggression   would   temper,   and   beneath   him   -   dan   heng   would   fall   to   pieces,   each   of   which   blade   would   carefully   craft   back   together   again,   only   to   repeat   the   process.   it   soothed   the   void   in   his   heart   -   the   ache   in   his   soul   -   when   he   stared   down   at   the   face   of   one   so   lovely,   so   like   what   yingxing   had   lost   centuries   before...   

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤbut   blade   was   not   yingxing.   

ㅤㅤㅤthe   warmth   of   his   hulking   frame   encompasses   dan   heng's   own,   scar   riddled   and   nude   body   pressed   flush   to   the   the   other's   back.   his   face   has   found   solace   at   the   crown   of   his   head,   buried   amongst   a   mess   of   dark   tresses,   while   one   strong   arm   rests   upon   the   crux   of   a   svelte   hip,   and   the   other   has   found   it's   way   beneath   the   pillow   they   rest   upon.   to   any   outsider,   the   state   of   them   -   curled   together   so   close   -   would've   been   romantic.   and   perhaps   it   was   in   a   way,   but   in   truth,   it   was   blade's   possession   that   drove   him   here.   dan   heng   would   not   escape   him,   even   the   comfort   of   his   body.   

ㅤㅤㅤhazy,   crimson   hues   drift   open.   for   once,   he   is   slow   to   wake,   even   with   the   evident   disturbance   of   the   body   against   him.   he   can   tell   in   an   instant   that   dan   heng   no   longer   knows   peace,   and   it's   blade   that   stares   at   him   a   moment   too   long   -   stares   at   the   way   beautiful   features   curdle   in   discomfort,   his   body   draws   in   on   himself   and   away   from   the   swordsman   and   then   he-   he   sighs,   bandaged   fingertips   settling   flush   over   the   vidyadhara's   shoulder,   and   shakes.   not   the   most   gentle   way,   to   be   woken,   but   blade   was   not   the   man   he'd   been   before.   

ㅤㅤㅤ❝   ⸻    dan   heng.   ❞   he   scowls,   leaning   half   over   the   archivist's   body   so   that   long,   silken   tresses   brush   lightly   over   his   pale   chest.   ❝   wake   up.   wake   up.   ❞   

@cloudhymn

[karmawind-a]

SCREAMS AND KICKS DOWN THE DOOR

HIS EYES WERE BLUE?????

[karmawind-a]

of course YX and DF wear matching earrings and the bracers. Of fucking course they do. I can’t live like this. This god damn ship. Mihoyo you are killing me.

[1anonyymous1]

The mind replays what the heart can’t delete

[sigillums]

No mercy.