god killer.

𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟   𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞    /    𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟    𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥.

[tempestial-archived]

"you dreamt about me?" the naga swirled his watermelon wine in his glass, fighting back a grin. "i can't believe you were so content with your 'imaginary' boyfriend that you didn't even consider a relationship with someone 'real'..." downing a good portion of his wine, he set it aside and turned to face zhen completely. "didn't you have physical needs? or a need for... an emotional connection?" tucking a strand of hair behind dragon's ear, he cocked his head to the side. "was i really enough?"

sometimes it was hard to tell whether a dream was really a dream.   sometimes, a memory was a far off fallacy, conjured from a mind mostly submerged in the depths. he couldn’t quite remember when the dreams had started appearing. when he was a teenager maybe, whimsy - filled and lovesick from someone he could only conjure in his memories. but goda, had they been vivid. it had seemed pathetic at first, so much more entranced by his imagination than what the real world could provide. zhen almost wished he could stay asleep, lie in the arms of a man he could never quite remember the name of. the dream version of him had called the naga many, many names, but never one that seemed accurate. he spoke to him in many languages too, some of which he couldn’t understand by the time the dreams started appearing. my jewel ... that was the reoccurring endearment.

zhen fidgeted with his rings. he was an artist within this lifetime, apparently a rare profession for him to gravitate to, but not unheard of. it was ... odd to learn about a him ( her ? they ? ) from different lifetimes, to know that he was so drawn to jewellery, despite how often he needed to take it off, because of his heritage, because no mater his destiny, he would always be drawn back to his jewels ... and not just in a physical sense. raj was every bit the stunning persona he was in zhen’s dreams, but to meet him in the flesh was something different, among the dusty planes of egypt no less, while zhen wished to seek artistic inspiration. the dragon still ... couldn’t believe that any of that had been real, his studio apartment here was covered, from floor to ceiling, in phantasmal memories of the last hundred of years. these weren’t just extremely vivid dreams. these were memories. and amongst many was raj’s familiar visage, sometimes a figure in the distance, and sometimes his muse.

raj had been his muse all his life, but he’d known him simply as ‘jewel.’

he gulped, new to these memories, knowing that in some of these lifetimes he’d been bold, and sarcastic, and larger than life, but right now, he was still letting go of a persona he’d kept for years. the zhen in raj’s memories ... he wasn’t a meek introvert, but that had been him for the entirety of this lifetime : the bastard son of a wealthy ceo, left to his paints to keep him out of his life. he was lonely, left to his dreams, left to his paints. he’d never really needed for anything, but now, now zhen thirsted for the knowledge of these lives lost, to know and understand the person who ... to be quite honest, he was already half in love with. but that didn’t count did it ? a lifetime’s obsession couldn’t amount to love. and so zhen flushed at raj’s questions, looking away shyly as he stirred the pick in his own drink. how did he deal with talking to someone who’d known him for hundreds of years and ... and some of those memories.. they made him shiver just thinking about it.

“   i don’t really know how to talk to people ... it was nice to fantasise about a relationship, but i don’t know if i could ever be in one.   ”

zhen swallowed loudly, took a sip of his drink as brown irises rose to meet raj’s, flickers of red diamonds like jewels seemed to flare out from his pupil, like an awakening of the celestial inside him.

‘   was i really enough ?   ’

“   ... there were many incarnations that believed you are.   ”

you will always be enough, my jewel.

[tempestial-archived]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 ; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓.   gnarled skin and jagged teeth was the least of your worries when confronted with such a monster. but then again, mercury had known that, hadn’t he ? he’d always known, even before the darkness of his heritage sunk it’s claws into once innocent psyche. maybe that part of him destined for darkness had been what drew zhen to a house of tragedies, to the boy whose father fashioned tools instead of children. when was a beast not a monster ?

oh   ...   when you loved it.

there had to be something unsettling in the way zhen could only respond to mercury’s violence, to the teeth at his jugular, to his grip upon zhen’s neck, to the violent way he knew he could snap zhen’s bones in an instant if he let him, with gleeful lovesick adoration. zhen had always been a person doing dealings on death’s door, he’d wish for no one else to spend his time dancing on a knife’s edge than mercury. breath hitched and smoke plumed as he felt the painful claw of mercury’s nails down his chest, arching into the touch as he met mercury’s kiss with a snarl of borne of pleasure and pain.

within an instant, zhen had grasped mercury’s free hand, nails biting into his wrist to throw him off. it was only to crawl atop him too, a leg between mercury’s thighs as a hand settled at the base of his throat, only to resume the feverish kiss.

“   try it,   ”   zhen dared, barely there flames in his voice just inches from the soft skin of mercury’s neck, lips curling up into a wicked smirk.   “   i dare you.   ”

@mercurous​.   from here.

[moonscut-moved]

     the  feeling  of  being  watched   ;   a  sensation  that  manages  to  crawl  along  the  length  of  ichigo’s  spine  something  ferocious  until  boy  warrior  snaps  back  in  what  will  ultimately  be  a  display  of  bared  teeth   &.   a  scowl  so  strong  it  leaves  the  very  spirit  of  his  weapon  in  a  tremble.  this  is  nothing  new   ,   nothing  kurosaki  ichigo  isn’t  used  to   ,   but  god  dammit  is  being  trailed  by  some  unknown  entity  fucking  annoying.  school  bag  slung  o’er  shoulder   ,   mocha  gaze  glancing  over  before  shinigami  daiko  books  it  around  the  nearest  corner  in  an  attempt  to  throw  off  his  pursuer   ,   or  at  least  make  them  work  for  it  if  they  want  him  so  badly.  although  …  a  secluded  alleyway  may  just  be  the  perfect  spot  for  him  to  ditch  this  outfit   ,   slip  into  shinigami  garb  in  a  blinding  flash   ,   leaving  his  body  down  below  while  now  standing  above  the  other  with  zangetsu  held  strong  over  the  span  of  broad  shoulders.

      ❝ if  you’re  tryna  stalk  me  in  secret   , ❞   he  calls  in  a  bellow.   ❝ you’re  doin’  a  shitty  job  at  it. ❞

@tempestial​      ,      starter  call.

[tempestial-archived]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑.   cursed to walk this wretched earth over and over, a never ending nightmare, forced to interact with humans as if they weren’t some of the most vile of the divine creations. recently awakened into his role as the cursed god - killer, the memories uncovered day by day only fueled zhen’s wrath, his absolute fury upon the gods for placing this punishment on him. unruly and awakened to thousands of years of torment, he’d focused on the first gateway into the afterlife he could without murdering this vessel. a shinigami. the closest one posing as a high school student no less.

glamoured and hidden to the sight of human eyes, as zhen followed after the student his draconic features started shifting upon human visage, eyes now red slits, fingers curling into claws, scatter of crimson crystal scales upon eyes and forearms, and then the twist of ivory horns from shocks of ebon hair. there was no use in hiding his true form now that he’d shown his, was there ? draconic’s own flaming blade unsheathed, placed in a defensive position to mirror the other’s, blood red eyes narrowing as he spoke, low with a barely restrained growl amidst the cadence of his voice.

“     i need to go to the soul society.     ”

[abysslarchiving]

                                                             ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯     wild and raging,     belovingly cold.

♥   or   ↻   if you’re interested in interacting with a new k/aeya blog of g/enshin i/mpact   !     penned by nine.

[tempestial-archived]

#mendlieur.

            it was forbidden for her to mess with the threads of fate. they were crimson , blood bound between two matched souls. for her to give up her only chance … to a familiar spectre of a being … not quite human. it was blasphemous , &. heart - wrenching. to give up the very thing she sought after to him. what was he ? his aroma … ichorious scent pointed her in the conclusion of godkiller. revelation made heart tremble , earthen irises wide with fear. to meddle with the affairs of gods would only curse her even more than she already was. quick recovery , she returned to sunshine deposition. full lips pouted at the quelled anger , ❛     hey , if you’re going to throw a tantrum then do it outside. the neighbors shrubbery could do with a nice burning if you’re into arson. they’re ugly to look at.     ❜ seamstress winked , playful not minding that his tone neared threatening. 

            elegant finger , fine with sewing scars wagged in his face. ❛     if you’re going to doubt me , then be on your way. this right here requires divine power , which only i have.     ❜ confidence in skills showed around her , every garment radiated magic power for the wearer. no matter how good looking he was , that uncontrolled storm was awful even if she had witnessed the edges of it. leaning head on palms , she sighed. the cloth drew her in  , as if it knew her secret. that she would indeed continue on this request no matter how the stranger treated her. feelings of compulsion grew , she fought against it trying to maintain some will of her own , ❛     you don’t know what you are asking … &. when you realize it’ll be too late.     ❜ she tapped him on the nose , ❛     you’ll have to spend a lot of time with me … can you handle that ?     ❜ digits passed through ebon threads , brow arched in question.  ———  oh , this tempest would have a difficult time with her.

this store clerk confused him to no end. gloved hands gripped into the fabric and scrunched it between his fingers. it was still as soft as the day he’d found it, buried with the skeletal remains of a long overrun temple. the faithful fabric had never frayed, or creased, or failed to protect him from wind and rain, but it had torn for the first time in over five years, and he had no idea where to find a seamstress that could work with dragon scale fabric. tempest - borne, solitary as he was had found something like a companion in this article of clothing, and he was loathe to replace it with something else, no matter the new, shiny designs. zhen rarely opted for designs of bright colour anyway, opting for more sleek and blendable clothing. though vibrant in sunlight, on cold overcast afternoons such as this one, the saturated crimson of cloak became a dull red, a shift he was very appreciative of. he’d known of it’s power from the moment it called to him, but he didn’t quite know it’s secrets yet. her teasing sounded like a mocking obstacle at this point. a brief glance in the direction of her neighbours turned back on her with thick brows angled into irritated ticks.

dull red eyes narrowed suspiciously on the clerk, trying to understand why she was being difficult about giving him a straight answer.   “ i can, but i won’t. ”   “ you ask, but you don’t know of what you’re asking. ”   what did that mean ? and furthermore ... sharp featured looked down briefly at the fabric in his hand, scrunched up while he’d been trying to reign in his frustration. he let it go, and the hills of his imprint slid away like heavy velvet into a still lake of dragon scale once more. his nose scrunched briefly, recoiling instinctively by her odd affections. he’d been so deep in thought that he hadn’t reacted in time to avoid that. she’d said that it required divine power. why would he need something so powerful just to repair a cloak like this one ? his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes falling once more to the cloak and then rising slowly to meet the gaze of the woman behind the counter.   ‘   divine power ? gods ?   ’   a huff of laughter, by the smoke wisping from between sharp draconic teeth ... that was anger, directed at what ? he wasn’t sure.   ‘   i don’t really believe in gods. most i see are magic users that let their power get to their heads.   ’   spirituality ? purpose ? no, so called false deities only wanted control, to reign in which they couldn’t through mortal means. they manipulated the vision of those with sight less expansive.   ‘   you ...   ’   zhen tilted his head, biting at his bottom lip, donning a confused expression, while his voice remained even, curious.   ‘   whether you can or can’t isn’t the issue anymore. you don’t want to. why ?   ’

[himeko-world]

[hi-fi13]

20170717

[tempestial-archived]

#ophidial.

     when zhen’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, niraj let out a soft ’oh’ sound, feeling as though all the air in his lungs had escaped him all at once, all at the first reaction. he would have recognized zhen’s energy absolutely anywhere, and when he curled his arms around shifter’s waist, he breathed in that energy, took in everything the soul of his best friend had to offer. his emotions had taken a steep dive off the deep end as soon as he’d seen zhen, and the way his heart raced now was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “no,” raj murmured, pulling the dragon closer to his body, “don’t say that — don’t say any of that.” he closed his eyes tighter, for just a moment, and he rubbed his thumbs against zhen’s back in tandem. this motion felt comforting to the naga; just knowing that they were together again felt like the biggest sigh of relief, like he’d been holding his breath for decades now. “you have nothing to apologize for.”

     niraj truly believed that zhen had no reason to apologize to him, but he knew why zhen thought it was necessary — raj had spent many a human lifetime waiting for the dragon, searching for him, even the couple times he’d found zhen, only to be shut out and left to find his way back home alone. he’d felt pain, and sadness, and utter heartbreak at the hands of the person he loved so dearly, to be deemed a stranger by such a familiar soul was akin to living your life with chains tight around your chest: bruising, suffocating, painful. despite this, niraj also knew that was something he’d willingly agreed to — he’d known there were going to be excruciating moments in his life where he’d repeatedly lose the one he loved most, and he knew that it would never truly come to an end, the pain it caused. but he’d held his head high, and each time he’d lose zhen he would remind himself that time heals all things, and they will meet again. he had to, for his sanity.

     pulling back, just enough to nose zhen’s temple, he sighed gently. “all that matters is that you’re here, with me, right now.” opening teary eyes, he remembered where they were, and he pressed a quick kiss to dragon’s hair. “come home with me, please, we can talk on the way there.”

the feeling of familiarity was a strange one. zhen had never met niraj in this lifetime, but he would trust him with the rest of it, and most likely many to more to come. dreams of his swords had come from a very early age, used to consume his mind if he wasn’t too careful, and then, when he’d finally manage to make the fated trip towards his old crypt, the dreams about raj had started. many a night had been spent wondering just how this would go. how would niraj react   ?   what would he look like   ?   did he manage to meet the last version of zhen   ?   ...   did he know how they died   ?   but standing there, revelling in the warmth of his touch once more scrubbed any doubt in his mind about where he was meant to be. it was here.

the naga had always been too forgiving in zhen’s eyes. he worried about how often he didn’t see that doubt come to the surface, about whether the pain of separation time and time again, but the cruelty of fate’s design, was actually worth it. whether it would be better to just forget zhen existed and go on to live a full and fruitful life, maybe fall in love with someone far less complicated. they’d had this conversation before, and each time niraj’s answer was the same. he wants to rebut that he has nothing to apologise for, and that the dragon should, whether it’s an intentional pain or not, but he doesn’t. he has been too excited to meet his best friend to ruin this moment any further.

‘   i am home.   ’   zhen sighed shakily against niraj’s shoulder. any further prompting was met with nods, with an instinctive lean into niraj’s person. even when they pulled apart the dragon still clasped his hand. blearily wiping away his tears as the sight and sound of the bustling marketplace came back into focus.   ‘   i’m not going to lie, i don’t exactly know how i got here.   ’   a guilty pause. they’d had a few times to get this right, and applying a niraj homing beacon to the snake hilt had been something that he was thankful to a past zhen for. still, in those last few seconds, he was sure he wouldn’t need one. he could feel niraj’s presence, like two halves of a lost star becoming whole.   ‘   the spell on the snake hilt activated just outside the city, and once it did i couldn’t focus on anything but trying to find you.   ’

[tempestial-archived]

the dragon zodiac comes around every twelve years ( 1952, 1964, 1988, etc. / i’m not holding onto the years so hard because of alternate universes and stuff ) so when zhen dies he will be born again on one of those years, on the 20th of march, 7:43pm exactly. his name might change, as well as ethnicity, nationality, gender, but this plus a birthmark in the shape of constellation draco are the only things that stay the same.

[tempestial-archived]

#ophidial.

     he’d been searching, years he’d been searching for some sign, something telling him just where to find the friend he’d lost too many times before. years he’d spent thinking about zhen in his most recent form; despite it having been decades, he could not push the thought that perhaps zhen was out there, searching for him too. he’d hoped so, at least. niraj had decided that morning to stretch his legs, as opposed to slinking around the wooded areas outside of town as he was wont to do in his free time, preferring the comfort of his solitude over the chatter of human voices. when he arrived at the marketplace, his biggest concern was choosing which cut of meat to bring back for the week’s meal. he hadn’t expected to turn and be greeted by the sight of an oh so familiar face, shedding tears and calling out to him. niraj nearly dropped the handful of spices he was holding. swallowing hard, he fumbled around putting them in his bag, glancing up once more to make sure he hadn’t been seeing things.

     zhen.

     shaking hands cupped zhen’s face when niraj closed distance, and bright green eyes searched dragon’s features. “zhen,” he whispered, voice faltering as tears of his own welled up, “you’ve come home.” a breathy laugh bubbled from his chest and his expression grew pained, despite all he did to try to keep it from twisting up. “you know me,” he murmured, pushing zhen’s hair out of his face, “you know me this time.”

zhen had been buried with the swords this time, that had been his lucky break. as soon as the familiar dreams had resurfaced, he knew exactly where to go, where to look for, to find that which would lead him back through his pasts. almost as soon as the journey to find the snake hilt started, niraj had come to him like a vision ; memories of that lifetime growing alongside his best friend had been lost to the centuries, and it had been the most hurtful thing, remembering those lifetimes in which raj had no place in his heart, watching him turn the naga away simply because the memories would not meet him halfway. the snake hilt was made, wrapped ‘round one of zhen’s twin swords so that some part of him night remember niraj before his mind eventually caught up to him.

zhen threw himself around the naga, burrowing his face into the familiar scent of his hair, revelling in the star - like tinkle of gold jewellery, taking comfort in knowing  that when he pulled back those familiar gold - green eyes would be looking with a millenia’s worth of affection, adoration.   ‘   i remember.   ’   zhen whispered, uncaring for the spectacle they might have been making. a talon like grip dug into the fabric over niraj’s back and stayed there, afraid that if he let go he would lost him again. it’s happened before, it definitely has. he can remember the pain in his heart from it.   ‘   i remember ... i’m sorry.   ’   he couldn’t look niraj in the eyes after all. that in itself was a tragedy. this was his best friend. they had gone through everything. at one point he’d been a comrade, a brother in arms, a lover, a family, an enemy, and even the most painful of all   :   a stranger.

‘   i’m sorry for forgetting you   —   ’   he buried his face in further, dampening cloth with tears.   i’m sorry for dying.   ‘   i’m sorry.   ’

[tempestial-archived]

#mendlieur.

            there was a familiarity in the air. something magnetic , a metallic taste on the tip of her tongue. &. a smoke. a voice she did not recognize spoke yet in his words , she found a peace. turning ‘round from her embroidery , golden threads in silk shining bright in her hands. warm brown hues blinked at the man but drew nothing but a sense of deja vu from his appearance. hmm , maybe she had seen him somewhere before. perhaps in town , ❛     your friend has good taste. ———  i can fix anything that is cloth , handsome.     ❜ walking over to the rumpled robe. earthen hues widened on it before she touched it. oh , no. breath siphoned , lungs stopped laboring for a second. fingertips took care of it , as the touch electrified every nerve. this was armor was everything of beauty , the scales unworldly. destroyed by someone with good - like power. pads of soft digits passed over  , the jagged wound. her heart trembled.  this would require something more than just thread &. needle. she stared at the stranger trying to gather if he knew about the power this what seemed to be a simple hanfu robe had. no , this would require her to do the unthinkable with her powers. she could not possibly burden him or herself ❛     it’s gorgeous. i can fix it but i refuse to. the price is too great. you would have to wait many days while i prepared it &. you could not leave town.     ❜ she gestured to the robes around her shop , all equally as beautiful. ❛     but you could choose any of these … if you wish to be on your way.     ❜

this robe had called for him the same way his blades once had, slowly tugging his soul towards them from the moment he was born. he’d been a corroding statue, limbs worn down by centuries having forgotten the weight of its own hand. that had been what it was like to find their weapons, to find this robe, hidden in a patch of non descript land, between three temples that held such foreboding auras. nose wrinkled upon compliment, and then at the refusal, crimson red hue flicking from the thread in her hands to the worn cloth between them. eyes narrowed upon her contradiction, lips parting to reveal the glint of fanged teeth before he quickly shut it once more, trying to reel in his temper.   ‘   can you   ?   ’   he questioned, one sleek brow rising with a tilt of his head, doubt imbued into those two words.   ‘   is the price really that great, or do you refuse because you really can’t fix it   ?   ’   the dragon really did want to be on his way, though this seemed like a reasonable place to rest between his mercenary bounties, there were others. but, if they could have this armour taken care of, then this tiny store could prove valuable to him. a quick look at the garments in question and he could sense the magic weaved into the very fabric of this attire, but none called to him so much as the damaged robe in her hands.   ‘   i would indulge but this is the reason i came to find you, and if you don’t believe you can repair it then i’ll find someone else who can. ’

[rebornes]

      they’re  fast.  she’s  never  fought  someone  who  dual  wields  before   ,   but  of course  there’s  always  time  to  learn  something  new.  furrow  of  obsidian  brows   ,   girlish  features  near  animalistic  in  the  desire  to  defend  herself  as  metal  clashes  against  metal   ,   sparks  flying  every  which  way   &.   eventually   ,   when  saya  steps  to  move  out  of  the  way   ,   as  does  the  blade  that  skates  just  along  cheek.  she  hisses   ,   smears  blood  from  a  now  healed  wound  across  flesh  akin  to  bright  crimson  paint  on  a  canvas.   ❝ i’ve  never  met  you  in  my  life   ! ❞   snarl   ,   momentary  pang  of  familiarity  against  ribcage  like  she’s  supposed  to  know  them  from  somewhere.   ❝ if  diva  sent  you  to  throw  me  off   ,   it  won’t  work   ! ❞

@tempestial​    ,    semi  -  plotted.

[tempestial-archived]

‘   who the fuck is diva   ?   ’   beastial draconic snarl resonated like the hum of blade on crimson blade, spitting acid in wake of pathetic lies, lies, lies. zhen dreamed that death so much it had to be a memory, just like all the ones which came before. driven to the brink of exhaustion, watching helplessly as hell - incarnate carved through flesh and bone, man, woman, child, indiscriminate with her soulless carnage. the blade that sliced clean through their heart was the last thing their body recalled, and then the cycle had begun anew. she might not behave in the same way as demon queen once had, but the blade is the same. those eyes are the same. swing, defend, slash, parry, fade, and repeat anew. mirroring crimson eyes turned to slits as blades once more came to clash in a flurry of sparks. their growl reverberated, harsh, but words were knives thrown at a cement wall.   ‘   you’re going to pay for what you did to me.   ’

[tempestial-archived]

zhen has safe houses all over the world that are magically enchanted to keep most intruders out where they store things they’ve been keeping over the centuries. though they do have treasures and the like that act as a form of “inheritance” from their past selves, none as are as valuable as the photos / journals that they keep detailing things from their past lives. some of the journals are on specific people, especially if they’re immortals of beings that live particularly long, people that zhen might meet again in a new form.

these scrapbooks will often have different styles of handwriting, sketching, scrapbooking, and photography, but they are all inherently zhen. some of them are written in completely different languages too, some of which earlier forms of zhen’s new incarnation can’t read simply because they can’t remember how to read that language, but it will come to them in time. there are a lot of skills that come back to zhen simply through the bleeding effect. being able to write in code, different languages, and even improve drawing through some remembered techniques come in time.

[tempestial-archived]

pant.   pant.   the bustling street, the shout of merchants, the birds in spires above their heads singing on a sweet summer day, all of it fell away in the wake of pounding footsteps. there was an ache in his chest, the culmination of dreams, a lifetime’s worth of heartache over a presence he knew in his heart was missing, felt it to his core whenever he touched upon the hilt of his familiar blade, the beautiful green and gold jade where only red and black lined the rest of the weapon. there had to be a reason, and he’d found it when he’d found him. clues had fallen into place, zhen strung together the memories on a knot of red string and the path to niraj became clear once more. he no longer needed the memories, he could feel in his heart that he was close by, the ache of a dozen past lives manifesting in tears that brimmed and fell upon the sight of his friend, standing there at he end of the marketplace, the path clearing as if fate simply knew this meeting was destined.

‘   niraj.   ’   zhen cried, on a happy sob, childish relieved laughter as legs threatened to buckle underneath him.   gods, my chest hurts.   ‘   i found you.   ’

@ophidial​     /     semi plotted starter. 

[miyukiko]

The drawing set of Allen - Kanda - Lavi - Lenalee

[tempestial-archived]

Kanda: I prevented a murder today.

Allen: Really? That's amazing! How'd you do that?

Kanda: Self control.

[tempestial-archived]

"nezha..." ren was too busy playing with his food to eat it, a nervous energy evident in the way he spoke, "you know caelum better than i do... what is he like?"

@lotusesque​     ›     unscripted   (   always acc.   )

he assumes they butt heads because they’re older brothers, because caelum had never felt the need to hold back or tailor their words for fear of upsetting them, but mostly, nezha understood that caelum’s abrasive nature towards him stemmed from a recovering childhood jealousy. mercury was caelum’s brother, and while he’d been out exploring the village and terrorising the other kids, nezha had wandered too close to the black residence and kept mercury company. the house that their own father told them both to stay away from, and the dragon faunus’ rebellious nature had drawn them to it anyway. where mercury had made a friend, a confidant, someone in his life to meet him with something other than disdain and hatred, caelum had never had that, because nezha liked to play tug of war with the only other person who could understand him. in the beginning, he’d thought that caelum’s interest in ren had been some kind of sick twisted way of getting back at him for all those years ago, when mercury’s budding friendship had left his attentions on caelum in the dust, but ... something had changed about the way he perceived the other black twin. he wasn’t sure he liked it.

taking a long sip of the health juice in front of them, wondering exactly how honest they wanted to be about this question. it had more to do with how likely it was for caelum to walk in on them, than for any real need to hide something from ren. despite how dangerous nezha knew caelum could be, how vicious and unhealthy, how rude and irritable, he was still a comrade, and someone who he’d entrusted his life to more times than he could count. caelum was reliable, and loyal to the rare few who’d earned his trust. though some visceral, childish part of him wanted to spout the worst, awful lies about the other, they knew that wasn’t what ren was looking for.   ‘   bàba always told us to stay away from mercury and caelum’s house when we were small. when they were still living with their húnqiú father, caelum used to do favours for mercury, but cover them up by saying “ i’m not doing this for you. ” ... when on a mission when were both about seventeen, and caelum saved me from someone who had me cornered, he said “ i’m not doing this for you. ”   ’   though irritated at the time, learning about the way that caelum protected loved ones, and the loved ones of loved ones, had made that significantly less scathing.   ‘   do you know what i’m trying to say   ?   ’   nezha would let ren come to their own conclusions, but they really couldn’t help themselves from slandering caelum a little bit.

‘   he’s a tsundere.   ’