#`m

[resurrectedteleport]

m

[ccxtaeyong]

lust

{ gdi vic

Lust — I’ll write a drabble of our characters making love hate together.

{ nsfw

“See?” Jihoon breathed cheekily, rolling hips caged by the firm grasp of Taeyong’s hands, a response to the low, unbridled sound of pleasure the hero had finally let escape from his lips in spite of the dark glare etched permanently in his eyes whenever he looked at the Envy card, “Doesn’t this beat brooding over a fake leg?”

“Shut up,” was the simple response he received in return, one that punctuated the instinctive movement of his hips to match Jihoon’s.

Envy simply chuckled, moving his hands from their place on the headboard behind Taeyong’s head and bracing himself against the hero’s torso.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to spend your whole life being so grumpy and frigid.”

A sound rumbled low in Taeyong’s chest, almost a growl as his eyes narrowed in annoyance at the card’s incessant sarcasm. He pushed his weight against Jihoon until he was on his back, Taeyong hovering over him, his expression unchanging save for the slight increase in intensity. 

“Not bad, even though you’re still a miserable excuse for a human being--”

Taeyong flicked his hips pointedly, garnering a surprised noise from the card as his hands traveling up to pin Jihoon’s wrists to the mattress below.

“You talk too much,” he uttered, his grip on his wrists tightening as the smirk on Jihoon’s face only grew.

[ccxtaeyong]

Rain

He hates it, he hates watching his friends fall deeper and deeper into Aku’s grasp. They hate him right back, and he knows it; it’s obvious in the way they look at him now, with a mixture of disdain and concern and pity in their eyes. They stopped listening to him a long time ago, if they’d ever started listening to him in the first place, and he can imagine the darkness taking them away from him almost as tangibly as the darkness eating away at him painfully from the inside.

The meeting was unsuccessful, that much was clear when Changkyun finally caught up with Taeyong. He was wary of the hunched over frame, the one that didn’t even flinch when distant rumbles of thunder became loud overhead just moments before a torrential downpour that felt like a single massive blanket it was coming down on them so hard.

“Taeyong?”

There was no response from the familiar caped form, only the slight scratch of the tip of his sword against the rooftop gravel. The metal glinted in the next flash of lightning above, it and the tattoo on his arm flashing metallically in the electric energy in a way that was so fleeting it could’ve been missed if Changkyun so much as blinked.

It was a cold rain, one that would have them both chilled to the bone in mere minutes, even through garb held together with the power of magic. 

He approached, slowly, carefully, making his footsteps deliberately loud so the reluctant leader of the rebellion wouldn’t think anyone was sneaking up on him; he was always on edge lately, Changkyun had noticed, afraid of something appearing out of thin air and attacking him from behind.

“They didn’t listen,” Taeyong finally spoke up, barely audible over the rain falling against the city.

Changkyun didn’t say anything, just continued his slow approach.

“They won’t listen!” It was sudden, the surge of energy, the sliver of lightning that caught the tip of his greatsword and traveled down it as he swung it with all the strength he could muster against a nearby air-conditioning unit.

Changkyun paused, eyeing the air around them, the energy making the hair on his arms stand on end, the roof rumbling under their feet as the unit collapsed into a useless heap of sliced metal under Taeyong’s blade. Several moments passed, and it became clear in the hopeless slump of the younger male’s shoulders and the way his sword hung uselessly at his side that he was otherwise harmless. 

He approached again, this time with less apprehension.

“They never--” but Taeyong’s hopeless words were cut off when he was pulled into Changkyun’s embrace, his weapon falling with a sharp clang against the gravel.

Changkyun kept him close, even if Taeyong felt uncharacteristically small and lax in his arms. He still felt human though, even with the faint darkness pulsing through him. He was still human.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of Taeyong’s head, ignoring the way the sky seemed to be trying to drown them, uttering his own quiet words of encouragement:

“They will.”

[ccxtaeyong]

KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

Kill — I’ll write a angst drabble of my character violently killing yours.

In hindsight, no one would be able to remember what had started it, the gruesome, vigorous battle between the heroes. It was only a petty rivalry, a clash of adolescent testosterone and the overwhelming darkness that magic left behind in the wake of consuming their souls piece by piece. No one thought it’d come to this, to the pair of them blindly battling in the heart of the city in the dead of night, their surroundings nothing to them, not as fist collided with fist and bullet collided with steel.

tw: blood, death, angst, etc.

Maybe it was the rebellion. Maybe it was the utter hatred for a force they couldn’t see or touch or control combined with conflicting ideals that they didn’t really care about it when it came down to it all. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both just so very tired.

The Taeyong he’d been, the one his friends searched for in every merciless slashing of his sword aimed at Ricky’s vital organs, was being rapidly consumed by darkness, and it showed in the other hero’s eyes that his experience was similar. They were shadows of themselves, desperate to destroy the darkness in each other that they saw in themselves.

They were locked in their fight, oblivious to the pleading shouts of their peers or the ominous sickening presence of The Hanged Man watching with glee, of Aku watching them from his secret dark realm waiting to collect their souls on a silver platter. None of it mattered, not the others watching helplessly nearby, not the buildings they destroyed with every stroke of a sword or shot of a pistol. They would fight until proverbial trumpets sounded, or until one of them conceded. The former was more likely, the odds of their deaths somewhere in between on the scale of probability.

Fleetingly, the sliver of the real Taeyong that was left wondered what it would feel like, what dying would feel like when his soul was doomed to spend an eternity tangled up in Aku’s spindly clutches. 

Then it felt like the world stood still.

When he blinked, when he woke in that split second, shattered back into something closer to a human consciousness by the deafening sound of a defining shot ringing in the air, he saw his own blade buried in Ricky’s torso, the rest of it sticking out of his back in dripping red. It was the same red that was spreading across his own chest, where Ricky’s bullet had pierced his heart. He glanced up from his own wound to meet eyes with his opponent and was met with a curling of a lip, some kind of weak smirk, a final breath’s expression of relief. Taeyong felt it too, as he collapsed to the ground, their frames, wounds, gazes still perfectly aligned as the light left their eyes through their blood staining the pavement, as their peers rushed to cling desperately to their lifeless shells, that overwhelming feeling of relief.

At least in death, they wouldn’t have to keep fighting.

At least in this, they could agree.

[ccxtaeyong]

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) + fisting

“is this a joke? do people actually do this?”

[ccxtaeyong]

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) + vigilante justice

“i’m not some melodramatic comic book character so i’m not exactly sure why this keeps coming up. it’s not even funny.”

[ccxtaeyong]

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) electric play / electric stimulation

“that sounds dangerous, not fun.”