Other 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬

[blue tea]

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betta fish

yuhwa aeng.

birthname

yu hua

courtesy name

yu yingjie

alias

hananoami

nicknames

pretty boy, pinkie, cherry, yunnie, little trickster, pearls, treasure, fish sticks

title

the shifter, pink spider lily, sea maiden, the boy who cries pearls, siren

age

twenty-five

pronouns

him / him

species

betta fish ( costal reef merman )

position

tattoo artist / ex-huntress

abilities

shapeshifting, crying pearls, yin phantom

I'VE BEEN ALONE FOR SO LONG
I FORGOT WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE LOVED​

THE PINKETTE SHUFFLED BACK, STARING AT THE STRANGER WITH WIDE OPTICS, worrying the sensitive flesh of his bottom lip. What the hell? The mer whimpered, watching as the stranger reached down to collect the pearls, grinning wickedly. “Y, You can’t—” He shuttered out, reaching out to snatch what was left in the pouch, hugging it close to his sternum with narrowed hues, the pupils shifting to slits. “I apologized!”

“So what? What hat are you going to do about it, huh?” The stranger paused, staring at Yuhwa with narrowed optics. “You’re a fucking freak, aren’t you?” He sneered causing the pinkette to flinch, hands curling tighter around the pouch with a hiss, teeth bared. If he had his fins they’d be flared in warning, frills trembling as he watched the other with slitted hues. “You’d fetch a pretty penny for a pretty thing like you.” The stranger surged forward, hands outstretched, but before the other could, Yuhwa sprung up with sudden force, knocking the other back with a shout.

“S, Stay back!” He shouted, frame trembling, bolting away from the gathering crowd. Shit. Shit. Shit! Yuhwa hadn’t meant to show anything. What the hell? His breath quickened, more so given he was running for his life, unsure if the other was following, but Yuhwa made no move to look over his shoulder. I can’t stay here. I, I have to—Stupid Yuhwa! He cursed at himself, whimpering at the thought. Can’t even help, can you? Even with his best intentions, people mistook it for something worse.

The mer stumbled into a wall, grunting at the pain spread against the side of his helm, canines digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lip. Maybe—Yuhwa shook his helm, ignoring the twinge of pain that came with the notion. Get yourself together, Yuhwa! He can’t afford to be weak. He had people to look out for. Besides! What if that stranger found him? Did they know who he was? Was Kyungmin still looking for him? Sui—Oh, god. He flinched, body slamming into the wall for the second time, stumbling until he fell into an alleyway.

Ignoring the soft thump as the pouch fell from his grasp, pearls spilling out and rolling as he curled up, legs tucked against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, just below the knee. He choked back a sob, refusing to let the tears flow, knowing they’d be nothing more than pearls the second they dripped down. Danmit. He wheezed, each breath becoming increasingly harder than the last until he felt lightheaded, bounding in tandem with his heart that palpitated.

Stupid. He pressed his face into the divot between his kneecaps, huffing out a choked laugh. “Just my luck.” He muttered with a cough, curling tighter into himself, leaning up against the wall unwilling to let himself spiral even more than he already was. “Get yourself together.” He muttered, wheezing between clenched teeth. I need to get further away—He wasn’t far away enough. No. He was certain that he’d be able to find him any second. The longer he sat there, the quicker they’d catch up, and then what? He couldn’t go back—I don’t want to go back.

That god-awful cage. The stretch of mildew strong that it burned his nostrils. When the pinkette had to watch as Sui stuffed his face with food, grinning mockingly at him. No! Stop thinking about that. He scolded himself, biting the inside of his cheek until he drew blood. He sucked in a shaky breath, easing his grip until he lay, sprawled out, staring blankly at the wall ahead of him.

SACRFICE, THAT'S WHAT WE DO
FOR THE PEOPLE WE LOVE​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

scroll

great white

mason vangelis.

birthname

azure shimizu

alias

raijin mizushima, bai qinghai ( bai he )

nicknames

azu, zu, zuzu, mace, rai, aku, little monster, blue-eyes, sushi

title

thunder beast, great white, monster, blue devil, chief azu, the jinx

age

twenty-two

pronouns

him / him

species

great white ( arctic merman )

position

mercenary

abilities

shapeshifting, blue fire, blue lightning

SWEETHEART, YOU CAN'T BREAK
WHAT'S ALREADY BROKEN​

IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG FOR THE AZURE-TINTED FLAMES TO VANISH, LEAVING scorch marks along the tavern’s wooden surface. He flinched as a few beams close to him groaned, snapping as they tumbled, kicking up derbies. He coughed into his elbow, grimacing at the wretched smell of burnt flesh. Fucking idiot. He glanced down at his forearm littered with burns that glared angrily up at him in stark contrast to his scarred ivory flesh.

He laughed, the sound appearing hallow, bitter with negative emotions that sprang forth from his mind, drowning him as he stood, knees threatening to buckle at any second. Damnit. How fucking weak could he be? His nostrils flared, ignoring the heavy scent that left him queasy. He had no intentions of spewing his guts all over the floor, not after he almost burnt the damn place down. Shit. He needed to get out of there before someone called the authorities.

Taking a shaky step, Mason stumbled out of the tavern, catching sight of various townsfolk mingling about, pointing and whispering to each other. His heart thudded harshly against his sternum, quickening his past, wanting nothing more than to get the hell away. His nostrils flared, breath wheezing through clenched teeth. Almost there. He wanted to shout, but that seemed counterproductive, didn’t it? God damnit. He let out an inaudible laugh, fingers curling into the callouses of his palm, creating crescent-shaped indents in the flesh. Keep walking fucker. He scolded-encouraged himself while tucking his injured arm close to his chest, hidden beneath his black trench coat. Thank fuck for that otherwise I’d be fucking screwed.

“It was him—! He lit up like a fuckin’ lightnin’ bug!” Someone shouted from afar, no doubt pointing at his retreating form. Fuck. He didn’t bother glancing over his shoulder than the obvious thud of boots slapping the surface. Time to fuckin’ go. Despite his wavering footsteps, Mason booked it as if his damn life depended on it.

Fuck!

God damnit!

Mason wheezed past parted lips that cracked like broken glass, beads of blood welling up within the crevices that were wiped away with a swipe of his pink tongue, tasting copper. He grunted at the taste, teeth sinking into the soft, sensitive flesh without warning, relishing in the burning pain it brought, distracting him from the welts along his forearm. Fucking ability. He cursed, canines sinking deeper until copper coated his tongue like lead.

He twisted, dodging bullets that rained down on his frame, knowing he couldn’t get caught and risk his exposure or heading back to their shared room. He couldn’t do that even if he wanted more than anything to curl up on the bed surrounded by familiar smells and the sinking warmth that’d encompass his frame like a blanket. Too late for that now, huh? He thought with a downturn of his lips.

Mason skidded around a corner, knocking into the brick wall with his injured arm drawing out a sharp hiss from between clenched lips. His heart thudded loudly against his sternum as blood roared in his ears, barely taking the time to orientate himself as he took off down a random street.

“Fuck me for getting fuckin’ lost.” He muttered, cradling his burnt forearm that oozed blood, blistering as he kept it pressed up against the rough texture of his shirt, knowing damn well the constant rubbing only made it worse, but the pain reminded him he was alive. Wasn’t the first time he’d burned himself, and no doubt wouldn’t be the last of the many issues he had with his fire ability.

He squeezed himself behind a dumpster, back pressed against the stone that dug into his lower back, breath coming in shuddered wheezes, fighting to keep it under control, watching the outer street through his peripheral. Blood roared in his ears in tandem with his heart that pulsated against his temples, tongue drier than a damn desert as blood trickled down his bloodied and cracked lips, pooling down his chin to dribble on his chest, staining the black fabric. Keane’s gonna kick my ass for this. He huffed out a laugh, lips curled into a grimace, shoulders shaking.

I DON'T WANT TO BE
A FUCKING TRAGEDY​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

scroll

tiger shark

keane valiente.

alias

kazuya hayashi

nicknames

ryker, strife, kea, val, ken, keeny, kee, spark plug, pop rocks, firecracker, rubes, fiesty kitten

title

striker, kian, the dancing tiger, hero of the ages, explosive charge, flaming devil, weapon's historian

age

twenty-five

pronouns

him / him

species

tiger shark ( deep sea merman )

position

barbarian

abilities

shapeshifting, explosions, beast

IF YOU DON'T WANT A SARCASTIC ANSWER
THEN DON'T ASK A STUPID QUESTION​

THE BARBARIAN SCOWLED, STARING AT THE VARIETY OF FOOD IN DISBAIN knowing well enough they wouldn’t be able to afford the shit even if they wanted to. Of course, he wasn’t past stealing the shit, but as far as his body limits, he was a fucking newborn deer. His brow twitched, scowl deepening at the thought. He couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now. Now when shit had already hit the fan and undoubtfully the past was coming to bite all of their asses. God damnit.

Keane already felt his body weakening the longer he mingled about through the vendors selling shit he couldn’t even bother to remember, far too preoccupied with finding food that’d last them longer. Who else would take the responsibility? Yuhwa thought it was his damn job to take care of them when the mer could barely take care of himself. Mason. Mason was an entirely different story. Keane’s partner for one thing and the blond couldn’t afford to lose the raven-haired brute. Not now. He lost everything. His heart wouldn’t be able to handle losing anyone else in this godforsaken life.

He sighed, reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose, helm shaking as tiredness pulled at his muscles. Damnit. He needed to act fast, or he’d drop dead in the middle of the street where he’d be picked on like damn vultures. He paid good money for the shit he bought. Not that it was much, to begin with. Gotta save some of it. He huffed, stumbling against the wall, leaning his frame against the rough texture with a sharp intake. “Fuck.” He hissed, his unoccupied hand reaching to curl his side to feel the throbbing pulse of his heart.

He coughed, grimacing at the breathlessness from just an hour of walking. His chest constricted, leaving him pressing the side of his helm against the wall, sputtering coughs wracking his body, unable to breathe. Shit. A whine bubbled up in the back of his throat, threatening to spill past his lips as he coughed, shoulders quivering with each harsh intake.

It felt like hours when he sucked in the crisp air, wincing as it filled his lungs until he had no other option than to exhale, wheezing. Helm still pressed against the wall, likely leaving indents of the rough texture against his skin, but Keane didn’t give a shit. It wasn’t like anyone would see his sunken face with rosy cheeks from coughing, blood tainting his lips and teeth. Damnit. He hated it. He hated feeling weak. He used to be strong. He didn’t need to take fucking naps during the day. Now? His body was so fucking tired all the time.

With a sigh, he pushed off from the wall, stumbling his way through the maze of alleyways and streets until he stumbled on a body sprawled out against the wall, staring blankly ahead. His brow raised, intending to ignore the stranger until he caught a wisp of pink hair. “Yuhwa?” He stumbled over towards the male with tear-stained cheeks. “What the fuck happened? Yuhwa—” He tsked collapsing on his knees, ignoring the sharp sting, hand brushing Yuhwa’s shin with furrowed brows.

“Yuhwa.” Sweat beaded down his temple, fingers reaching to tug his hood off, staring at the other with furrowed brows, ruby hues pooling with worry. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He reached to curl a finger around a strand of pink hair, tugging it until the other stared at him, blinking lazily until they widened. “What happened?”

ANYTHING YOU CAN DO
I CAN DO BLEEDING​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[blue tea]

scroll

betta fish

yuhwa aeng.

birthname

yu hua

courtesy name

yu yingjie

alias

hananoami

nicknames

pretty boy, cherry, pinkie, yeonhwa, yunnie / yinnie, little trickster, pearls, my treasure

title

the pink spider lily, sea maiden, the boy who cried pearls, the siren, madam hua

age

twenty-eight

pronouns

masculine

species

betta fish ( costal reef merman )

position

medic / shaman, tattoo artist, entertainer, ex-siren

abilities

shapeshifting, crying pearls, yin phantom

pinterest

xxx

spotify

xxx

theme song

xxx

I'VE BEEN ALONE FOR SO LONG
I FORGOT WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE LOVED​

Yuhwa woke with a jerk of his limbs smacking against the wooden frame of the ship, startling himself with a choked whine, pain blurring his scenes. The long-haired male blinked several times, long eyelashes skimming his high cheekbones with blurred vision. Sharp gasps escaped parted lips, ribs expanding against paper-thin skin, sweat trickling down his temple to pool down his chin and splattering milky white skin that glistened, trapped within his itchy blanket that rubbed his skin raw until he kicked it off with a choked hiss.

Pupils dilated as they took an inventory of his room, brows furrowed, expression pinched. Just a nightmare. He reminded himself, hand lightning fast to wrap around the cool metal resting against his exposed breast bone, the tunic he wore slipping down his shoulders, exposing the upper half of his pectorals in a haste to sit up.

His heart thumped like hummingbird wings, threatening to break through its bony prison and soft tissue. Right. This was reality. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t be, not with the way the bed creaked beneath his weight and the soothing thrum of the engines beneath lulling him in a trans-lux state. Yes. Yes. He wasn’t there. How could he? He was on the ship. He was safe. He was fine. Or as fine as he could be, swaddled in the heavy scent of plants and sterilization.

Nimble fingers fiddled with the rings, thumb mindlessly rubbing that of his husband’s ring, reaching to bring it to plush lips to lay a gentle kiss to it, sniffling a sob that threatened to break free from its throaty prison. Just a nightmare. He laughed, off set, brimming with grief and pain. Oh, how he wished things were different, but reality had never been kind to the betta fish, not since he was a guppy. He should have expected it. So why was there a need to flip out? You’ve already made a fool of yourself, Yuhwa. Not that he cared, skimming the mess of his office, noting the blood-stained bandages tossed somewhere in the corner of the monochrome room. Oh? He wondered where—Yuhwa sucked in a sharp breath. Oh. Right.

Mocha-colored optics blinked, peering down at the messily done bandage wrapped around his midsection, stained ichor. He had been out fetching more medical supplies while selling a pouch of pearls when someone threatened him with a knife. The skirmish had been quick, ending with Yuhwa stumbling along, palm pressed against the stab wound, knife projecting from milky white flesh as the thief ran off with a bag of pearls, no doubt selling them to the highest bidder.

That was until Keane stumbled upon him, knuckles bloodied when he crouched down, speaking, but the mer couldn’t make out what the blond was saying, far too trapped within his own mind to speak other than the pitiful whine that pooled from crackled lips, spurring Keane into action with a heady snarl ripping from his chest, offering low-vibrating rumbles that soothed Yuhwa’s spiraling mind into unconsciousness.

His vision blurred present and past, helm lulling to press against the side of the ship, biting his lower lip with a choked cough, nostrils flaring at the sharp twinge of pain from his abdomen.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

The mer had stumbled into a wall, grunting at the pain spread against the side of his helm, canines digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lip. Maybe—Yuhwa shook his helm, ignoring the twinge of pain that came with the notion. Get yourself together, Yuhwa! He can’t afford to be weak. He had people to look out for. Besides! What if that stranger found him? Did they know who he was? Was Kyungmin still looking for him? Sui—Oh, god. He flinched, body slamming into the wall for the second time, stumbling until he fell into an alleyway.

Ignoring the soft thump as the pouch fell from his grasp, pearls spilling out and rolling as he curled up, legs tucked against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, just below the knee. He choked back a sob, refusing to let the tears flow, knowing they’d be nothing more than pearls the second they dripped down. Danmit. He wheezed, each breath becoming increasingly harder than the last until he felt lightheaded, pounding in tandem with his palpitating heart.

Stupid. He pressed his face into the divot between his kneecaps, huffing out a choked laugh. “Just my luck.” He muttered with a cough, curling tighter into himself, leaning up against the wall unwilling to let himself spiral even more than he already was. “Get yourself together.” He muttered, wheezing between clenched teeth. I need to get further away—He wasn’t far away enough. No. He was certain that he’d be able to find him any second. The longer he sat there, the quicker they’d catch up, and then what? He couldn’t go back—I don’t want to go back. Not like this. He had people who relied on him. He needed to get away. Away. Away. Away.

That god-awful cage. The stretch of mildew strong that it burned his nostrils. When the pinkette had to watch as Sui stuffed his face with food, grinning mockingly at him. No! Stop thinking about that. He scolded himself, biting the inside of his cheek until he drew blood. He sucked in a shaky breath, easing his grip until he lay, sprawled out, staring blankly at the wall ahead of him.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

Jerking himself out of it, Yuhwa let out a trill, sad and longing, wondering where Keane went after he brought him back to the ship. Did he tell Mason? Let’s hope not. He didn’t want anyone worrying about him, especially when he should worry about others. He was the medic, for heaven’s sake! No one wanted to deal with a self-pitting medic when lives were at stake. He might have joined some years ago, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be kicked off the ship if he became incompetent.

With a shaky sigh, Yuhwa glanced down at the rings resting heavily against his breastbone, reminding him of someone he so desperately wanted to be with, thumbing the cool metal as tears gathered. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss you. He thought, trilling sadly. If he had been in his original form, his frills would tilt downward, color dull.

Shaking his helm, Yuhwa swung his feet over the cot, feet pressing against the familiar texture of the ship, easing his spiraling mind, pupils widening, appearing owlish when they veered to the potted plants, some hanging while others were nestled against the ship’s wall he’d collected over the two years he’d been here. The familiar smells were like a weighted blanket, relaxing coiling muscle with a tight-lipped sigh, helm drooping, chin pressing against the divot of his collarbone.

The betta fish hadn’t been present all morning, no doubt won’t be for the entire afternoon, holed up in his office until the crew saw him delivering medicine. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Days, perhaps? Yuhwa couldn’t be so sure.

With a groan, Yuhwa’s hand skimmed the marred, supple flesh, mocha optics peering at the bandage-stained ichor. Right. He needed to change it. Shaking his helm, Yuhwa stumbled to his feet, long chestnut hair pooling down his shoulders with the motion. Ignoring the blistering pain, his hand pressed against the rough wood, no doubt getting splinters within the supple flesh, making it a pain to fish out later tonight as he stumbled towards the tossed bandages and disinfectant.

Ten minutes later, Yuhwa adored fresh new bandages, hand-pulling pack to press against his sternum o feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, only to hear his stomach gurgle in protest drawing out a chuckle. Helm shaking, Yuhwa gathered his clothing, slipping on a cherry-tinted qipao with blood-filled flowers along the fabric, exposing a bit of his prominent collarbone and upper thighs.

Enough to keep his injury hidden, but not enough to prevent him from moving fluidly. The long-haired male slipped on a pair of thigh-length socks, hugging the supple flesh of his tights, only held up by thin straps hidden beneath a sliver of the red-tinged fabric with a pair of black tinged boots, barely reaching the bottom of his kneecaps with three straps around his thigh.

Humming softly, Yuhwa waddled around his office in search of his gloves, perking up when he found them wedged beneath the various medical books he’d stolen from the library. I should return those. He thought, expression sheepish. “I’ll return them later.” He ruffled his dark chestnut-colored locks faded to cardinal red, tipped with light strawberry pink tips.

“I wonder how Mason’s doing.” He mumbled, gaze withdrawn. I need to finish making that burn balm for his burns. His brows furrowed. And see what I have for Keane’s cough. Mind veering to the various herbal materials he’d plucked the night before, Yuhwa got to work collecting glass jars scattered across his office. “Let’s see….” He muttered, pressing the pad of his finger to plush, ivory-hued lips, teeth nipping the sensitive flesh, brows pinched in a look of concentration. “Rhubarb, Phellodendron bark—” He listed, muttered about as he moved, footsteps lighter than a mouse as he gravitated through his office until he sat cross-legged on his chair, things spread out against his table.

Yuhwa opted to ignore the flushed sheen of his exposed skin and labored breath, no doubt side effects from the stab wound, helm cocked, wondering if he should take some pain medication to quell the heated thrum of his skin, worrying his bottom lip between sharp canines until it beaded with ichor, drawing him out of his stupor. Blinking several times, Yuhwa sighed, tugging at dark chestnut locks, mindlessly twiddling between his first and thumb, gaze gravitating towards the oversized sweater Keane had left the night before, heavily scented, easing his worries until he was pliable, pooling into his chair with a content chirp, gaze lidded, drinking in the familiar smell of driftwood and smokey caramel. Long, bony fingers curled around the fabric, tugging it until it pooled around his frame, welcoming the delicious warmth, nose nuzzling the soft fabric as he took in a slow, agonizing breath.

SACRIFICE, THAT'S WHAT WE DO
FOR THE PEOPLE WE LOVE​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

scroll

tiger shark

keane valiente.

alias

kazuya hayashi

nicknames

ryker, strife, kea, val, ken, keeny, kee, spark plug, pop rocks, firecracker, rubes, feisty kitten

title

the dancing tiger, spawn of satan, the flaming devil, monstrous nightmare, the slayer, pyro

age

twenty-seven

pronouns

masculine

species

tiger shark ( deep sea merman )

position

shipwright, body guard, ex-chief / warrior

abilities

shapeshifting, explosions

pinterest

xxx

spotify

xxx

theme song

xxx

IF YOU DON'T WANT A SARCASTIC ANSWER
THEN DON'T ASK A STUPID QUESTION​

The blond cursed, skidding around, palms outstretched in a series of miniature explosions, using the sudden boost to jerk out of the way of an oncoming holograph, dodging it with inexplicable speed. Ivory-hued lips cocked, grinning manically as he slammed open palms, catapulting himself over a holographic spear, the edges barely skimming the heated skin along his side, body tucked into a roll, until he landed, straightening up.

Keane sneered, turning the holographic sequence off with a choked grunt, reaching to drag a hand through sweaty blond locks, strands stuck to his temples, nose quirking in agitation, but otherwise made no move to brush them away. “Fuckin’ hair.” He muttered, tilting his head back, chest shuddering with each inhale, tasting iron and wood on his tongue.

Breathing harshly, the ruby-eyed male pivoted, pressing a tightly clasped fist against the bark and gritting his teeth. Damnit. He cursed, tossing his head back to stare succinctly at the roof. His mind flickered, trouble itched deep against ivory flesh, and brows pinched. What the fuck were you two thinking? He wanted to strangle his pod mates for getting into the most reckless of shit, only for Keane to haul them by the scruff, cursing, certain to make even the hardest of pirates blush.

It was times like these when he enjoyed the fancy gym, stationed deep within the ship he brazenly called his home, even if it left an odd taste in his mouth, tongue weighing heavily. Regardless. It gave him the chance to let out pent-up frustrations until he was black and blue, muscles quivering from over-exertion until he kneeled over in exhaustion, but Keane was a stubborn brute, pushing his body past its limit.

Nose crinkling, Keane made his way out, gooseflesh nipped at exposed skin, flushed from training, sweat trickling down, dipping beneath low-hanging sweats, muscles coiling with each breath. He grumbled, shaking his helm, limping towards the community bathroom, skin prickling at the thought of using it, but he knew damn well than complain, even if it made him sick, stomach clenching at nothing, throat closing.

“Damnit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply before slipping inside, intending to take a quick shower to get rid of the caked ichor and dirt plastered against his sun-kissed skin.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

With a grunt, Keane got to work easing into his clothing which was pretty easy with the lack of actual clothing. His obsidian black shirt barely grazed his pectorals, reaching about halfway leaving most of his midsection and lower hips exposed to the air. Not something Keane normally chose, but his battered body appreciated the lack of clothing rubbing against bruised and bloodied skin. He then attached his obsidian-hued and ivory-white cuffs that reach just below his elbow, concealing his sweaty palms. He then slipped on a pair of obsidian black pants that hung low on his hips if it wasn’t for the gold jewelry that lined the divots with a half-white, half-black skit attached at the hip with slits in the side that hung loosely around his ankles.

Glancing down at himself, head cocked while ruby optics picked out any blemishes, before making a satisfied hmph. Pivoting on his feet, Keane made his way towards the medical brig where Yuhwa stayed most nights until Mason or he dragged the long-haired idiot to their shared bed ( like yesterday, but Yuhwa was adamant about staying in the medical brig ), nestled beneath layers of blankets and various knick-knacks they’ve collected over the years. Fucking moron. He scoffed, fingers skimming the rough wood, boot-cladded feet making soft thumps as he neared, pushing open the door with a shift of his hips, gravitating towards Yuhwa’s office.

What if he hadn’t gotten there in time?

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

Seeing Yuhwa sprawled out, blood staining the fabric until Keane’s vision bled red, nostrils flaring in anger. The rumbling snarl ripped out from the depths of his soul, teeth elongated and bared at no one in particular. Someone hurt Yuhwa. Was the only thing that rippled like water, peeling his gaze away from Yuhwa’s prone form to peer into the darkness when he crouched, sweat beading down his temple, fingers reaching to brush the male’s clammy skin, pulling back with a hiss at the heated flush the mer adored. “Oi! Talk to me, sweetheart.” He crooned, watching Yuhwa reveal dazed mocha optics, whining softly until Keane rumbled, soft and so unlike the rough-edged male.

What the hell happened? It didn’t take long for Keane to spur into action, hand pressing against the stab wound to pick up the male, lightweight beneath toned arms. “Seriously need to get something in you. Fucking moron.” He grumbled, helm lowering to press a sweaty kiss to Yuhwa’s temple, whispering soft words as he hurried to the ship, ignoring the bustle of the crew to head directly to the medical brig where he made quick work, albeit not as neatly as Yuhwa’s, but it was something.

Did he go back? Maybe. But it wasn’t anyone’s business what he did. So what if he came back with bloodied knuckles, grinning maniacally at the unfortunate asshole sprawled out somewhere? It wasn’t anyone else’s problem but his.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

Stepping inside, Keane caught sight of Yuhwa sprawled out across the wooden floor, nuzzling the sweater he’d left there after tucking the mer in last night. Ruby optics narrowed, catching sight of the crumpled bedding, wondering if he’d just woken up or finally took a damn nap. Fucking win-win if he did either. So he wasn’t complaining, simply offering a low guttural growl, jerking the mer from his stupor to blink languidly up at the other.

“How’s that wound?” He crouched, peering down at the other. The pad of his finger brushed just beneath Yuhwa’s eye in a sweeping motion, drawing out a soft trill from the other, optics fluttering. Keane snorted. “Still tired?” He remarked, huffing in laughter at the grunt, Yuhwa’s lips jutting out in a pout.

Shaking his helm, Keane straightened. “Quit with the pouting, dumbass. Let’s get your ass off the ground and into the chair.” He shuffled scooping up the mer, nose crinkling but said nothing, instead, plopping Yuhwa down in the chair, nose brushing Yuhwa’s cheek in an affectionate mer-like kiss, drawing an airy giggle from the betta as he pulled away, fingers threading through long locks, humming as the other leaned into his touch, nuzzling his palm.

His gaze flickered to the balm nestled on Yuhwa’s desk, reaching over to pluck it off the table to sniff, nose crinkling at the strong herbal smell it oozed. “Mason?” He supplied, turning to Yuhwa who hummed, bobbing his head. Grunting, Keane placed it back. “I’ll go get the fucker.” He ruffled dark chestnut locks before slipping out of the room and towards the top deck, fulling intended on dragging his boyfriend by the damn scruff if he had to. Fucking dumbass. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his helm in exasperation.

ANYTHING YOU CAN DO
I CAN DO BLEEDING​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

scroll

great white

mason vangelis.

birthname

azure shimizu

alias

raijin mizushima, bai qinghai " bai he "

nicknames

azu, zuzu, zu, mace / mazy, rai, mizu, aku, az, zero, blue-eyes, little monster

title

thunder beast, the great white, the monster, the cobalt hellhound, the blue devil, chief azu, the jinx

age

twenty-four

pronouns

masculine

species

great white ( arctic merman )

position

shipwright, mercenary, exiled chief

abilities

shapeshifting, blue fire, blue lightning

pinterest

xxx

spotify

xxx

theme song

xxx

SWEETHEART, YOU CAN'T BREAK
WHAT'S ALREADY BROKEN​

Azure-tinted optics narrowed, watching the scenery fly by them without so much as batting an eyelash, fingers curled around the railing as he listened to the various conversations floating over his head, tuning them out with a sneer resting heavily on ivory-hued lips. Despite the mumbled tones, Mason peered down at burnt forearms, biting back a wince. Fuck. He still hadn’t gone to Yuhwa, preferring the pain than dealing with the memories the second he closed his eyes.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

The raven-haired male grumbled hands stuffed deep within the pockets of his trench coat, gaze lacking its usual cheeky luster, now a dull, ashen grey that made his ivory skin look sick with decay. His body trembled, reminding the male that he desperately needed rest, but he knew damn well he wouldn’t be able to. His brain was too occupied with reliving the events that transpired recently. Fucking hell. He needed a drink. Damnit. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with his whirlwind of emotions. Not now—probably never if Mason was being honest. He had no intentions of opening the floodgates. He was fucking fine. Maybe broken, but he’s handled worse shit. Suck it up. His mother constantly reminded him, repeating it like a mantra. Hell! He handled the shit show that was Chi. So why?

He groaned, reaching up to drag a hand through raven-hued locks, shaking them roughly. His nostrils flared with a bone-tired sigh slipping past chapped lips. Fuck. His azure-tinted hues darkened to pools of midnight, blending in with his ashen appearance. Damn, did he look like a walking corpse, although Keane looked the worst having taken the brunt of the attacks which Mason was damn well pissed about, but what could he do? He’d be a fucking hypocrite, but that didn’t mean he didn’t scold the shit out of the blond for risking his life, ending up in a bloodletting fight until Yuhwa stepped in.

Mason stepped into the semi-spacious room with tables flowing with people and an empty bar off to the back. He grumbled, muscles tensing at the number of people, but it seemed his need for alcohol outweighed his terror of physical touch. His hands whisked the obsidian-hued trench coat around his frame, hiding his battered clothing, unbothered to change into something else. Not that they had any. His nose quirked, making a mental note to go shopping for supplies when they didn’t feel like death warmed over.

The Great White shuffled forward, ignoring the curious chatter as they watched him from afar, tossing around ideas that are a far outcry from the truth. His cracked, ivory-hued lips quirked, midnight optics narrowing. Nosy, assholes, aren’t you? He thought darkly, fingers twitching within the pockets of his trench coat. He sighed through his nose, shaking his helm. Drink first. He reminded himself, sitting at the bar with a soft thump.

“What can I get for ya?” A bartender came rounding the corner cleaning a large mug, hip cocked with a raised eyebrow. Mason glanced up, blinking several times until he registered what they were asking, lips parted in an ‘o’ shape. “Do you have Spirytus vodka?” He asked, head cocked. The bartender hummed, heading off to fetch what he’d requested, sliding the glass towards him. The raven-haired male watched the drink slosh over the rim, spilling onto his hands but otherwise careless while he tipped it back, welcoming the burning sensation with a sigh.

He didn’t realize the bartender had refilled his glass with a knowing glance, watching the brute gulp it down without flinching. “Rough day?” They questioned. Mason hummed, flashing them a weak-willed grin. “You have no idea.” He remarked sourly.

Who knew drinking alone would be a bitch? He tossed back his fifth, not even the least bit tipsy as he fell deeper into his head. Damnit. He really didn’t want to deal with the shit storm that was his emotions, especially when he wasn’t anywhere he was familiar with.

His knuckles bled white, fingers curling into the callouses of his palm, creating crescent-shaped marks against the ashen-grey skin. Probably look like a damn ghost. He thought, midnight optics bleeding azure the longer he stared at his hand, breathing coming in short, noticeable gasps. Fuck. He did not want to have a damn breakdown in the middle of a bar.

Get your shit together, Mason. He cursed, teeth gnawing on the sensitive flesh of his bottom lip, ignoring the sharp stings as his canines dug into the open wounds, welcoming the coppery tang that breezed past his taste buds.

He hadn’t realized someone was beside him until their hand rested soothingly on his back, unaware he’d already fallen deeper into his mind. His pupils dilated, slamming himself away from the woman with a sneer. “Get the fuck away from me!” He snapped. His frame tensed, teeth bared in a low guttural growl that rumbled deep within his chest, rattling his frame. He knew he shouldn’t have lashed out like that, but physical touch never went well when he wasn’t expecting it.

He felt cornered. Shit. His battered frame tucked into himself more, staring at the wide-eyed woman with a hiss. His chest heaved with each scant breath that wheezed past his lips. He needed—Damnit.

Despite the soothing touch, the girl offered, hoping to help only made things worse. It burned. His pupils were blown wide, fingernails digging into the clothing of his forearm as he tried not to fall under. His stomach churned, bubbling with the need to throw up whatever he’d eaten, which … wasn’t much. He gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring unaware of the smoke that wafted off of his frame, staining the air with the stench of burning flesh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He clenched his fists, teeth-gritting with a snarl. Get it together—He could feel the bubbling whine that threatened to escape up his throat, but damnit. Mason made damn sure to swallow down the notion. His body trembling, feeling trapped within his own frame. He could feel the woman amble forward, hand outstretched with a worried gaze despite being yelled at. He sneered, azure-tinted hues bleeding midnight at the familiar sensation of feeling cornered took over, feeling cold as icy tendrils wrapped themselves around his pounding heart and squeezing. His vision blurring, seeing nothing but the abyss, ears ringing loudly as he stumbled off his seat, hand outstretched with a loud-animalistic snarl, canines bared. Fucking hell. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me!”

Of course, two strangers came standing behind the woman, both with equally hardened expressions, lips peeled back with sneers. “Shouldn’t be talkin’ like that when someone tryin’ to help ya.”

“Fuck off.” He said through clenched teeth, trying hard not to combust in bright blue flames. He could feel the tendrils of heat dance along his skin. Blood roared in his ears as he fought to control the sudden grips of terror and disgust that spilled from the seams, trapping him in a vicious cycle.

He didn’t even know what triggered it, but the sudden touch of some stranger didn’t fucking help. It made shit worse, and he didn’t have it in him to feel sorry for lashing out. Not right now. Right now he was trying not to burn down the tavern and make a mess because it was just his luck.

Mason prided himself in his self-control with his abilities, but right now? Fucking hell was he close to combusting in a billowing haze of blinding blue. He needed to get away, but his legs didn’t seem to want to move, feeling like lead as he sat, clutching at his forearms with an iron grip, his pupils were blown wide with constricted breathing that borderline hyperventilating.

He felt fire burst from his forearm, burning away his sleeve without realizing it, gaze widening in surprise. Shit. He pressed his forearm tight against his front, biting down on his bottom lip with a vengeance, cursing at himself for losing control. Damnit, Mason!

He hadn’t realized the wooden bar had caught fire. His head snapped up, mouth parting in surprise at the resigning screams that were sure to haunt his damn mind. Watching as people slipped out of the tavern as the wood groaned, crackling beneath the explosive blue flames without mercy. “Damnit—I, I didn’t … fuck I’m sorry—” He fumbled, cursing as he stumbled to his feet. No wonder they died. You can’t even fucking save yourself. He scolded himself, watching the flames with narrowed optics.

It didn’t take long for the azure-tinted flames to vanish, leaving scorch marks along the tavern’s wooden surface. He flinched as a few beams close to him groaned, snapping as they tumbled, kicking up derbies. He coughed into his elbow, grimacing at the wretched smell of burnt flesh. Fucking idiot. He glanced down at his forearm littered with burns that glared angrily up at him in stark contrast to his scarred ivory flesh.

He laughed, the sound appearing hallow, bitter with negative emotions that sprang forth from his mind, drowning him as he stood, knees threatening to buckle at any second. Damnit. How fucking weak could he be? His nostrils flared, ignoring the heavy scent that left him queasy. He had no intentions of spewing his guts all over the floor, not after he almost burnt the damn place down. Shit. He needed to get out of there before someone called the authorities.

Taking a shaky step, Mason stumbled out of the tavern, catching sight of various townsfolk mingling about, pointing and whispering to each other. His heart thudded harshly against his sternum, quickening his past, wanting nothing more than to get the hell away. His nostrils flared, breath wheezing through clenched teeth. Almost there. He wanted to shout, but that seemed counterproductive, didn’t it? God damnit. He let out an inaudible laugh, fingers curling into the callouses of his palm, creating crescent-shaped indents in the flesh. Keep walking fucker. He scolded-encouraged himself while tucking his injured arm close to his chest, hidden beneath his black trench coat. Thank fuck for that otherwise I’d be fucking screwed.

“It was him—! He lit up like a fuckin’ lightnin’ bug!” Someone shouted from afar, no doubt pointing at his retreating form. Fuck. He didn’t bother glancing over his shoulder than the obvious thud of boots slapping the surface. Time to fuckin’ go. Despite his wavering footsteps, Mason booked it as if his damn life depended on it.

Fuck!

God damnit!

Mason wheezed past parted lips that cracked like broken glass, beads of blood welling up within the crevices that were wiped away with a swipe of his pink tongue, tasting copper. He grunted at the taste, teeth sinking into the soft, sensitive flesh without warning, relishing in the burning pain it brought, distracting him from the welts along his forearm. Fucking ability. He cursed, canines sinking deeper until copper coated his tongue like lead.

He twisted, dodging bullets that rained down on his frame, knowing he couldn’t get caught and risk his exposure or heading back to their shared room. He couldn’t do that even if he wanted more than anything to curl up on the bed surrounded by familiar smells and the sinking warmth that’d encompass his frame like a blanket. Too late for that now, huh? He thought with a downturn of his lips.

Mason skidded around a corner, knocking into the brick wall with his injured arm drawing out a sharp hiss from between clenched lips. His heart thudded loudly against his sternum as blood roared in his ears, barely taking the time to orientate himself as he took off down a random street.

“Fuck me for getting fuckin’ lost.” He muttered, cradling his burnt forearm that oozed blood, blistering as he kept it pressed up against the rough texture of his shirt, knowing damn well the constant rubbing only made it worse, but the pain reminded him he was alive. Wasn’t the first time he’d burned himself, and no doubt wouldn’t be the last of the many issues he had with his fire ability.

He squeezed himself behind a dumpster, back pressed against the stone that dug into his lower back, breath coming in shuddered wheezes, fighting to keep it under control, watching the outer street through his peripheral. Blood roared in his ears in tandem with his heart that pulsated against his temples, tongue drier than a damn desert as blood trickled down his bloodied and cracked lips, pooling down his chin to dribble on his chest, staining the black fabric. Keane’s gonna kick my ass for this. He huffed out a laugh, lips curled into a grimace, shoulders shaking.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

Dark bags contrasted against ivory-hued skin to the droop of his helm, chin resting in the divot of his collarbone, shaking himself from the memory, burns to throb painfully beneath his coat, wrapped lazily with cream-tinted bandages he stole from Yuhwa’s storage. A rough hand slapped his shoulder, jerking himself out of his stupor to snarl, whipping around to peer into familiar ruby optics, stomach churning from the sudden touch, canines elongated into a silent sneer.

“What the fuck Keane?” He choked, hand pressed against his sternum, helm bowed to glare at boot-cladded feet. “Warn me fucking next time.” He muttered, jerking to stare at the other.

Keane huffed, jerking his helm, brow raised, commenting that Yuhwa made him burn cream without asking, Mason scowled. “What–?” Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t need him to do that.” He huffed.

Yuhwa was always doing things without prompting if it got him in trouble or not. Keane simply offered to drag his sorry ass if he wanted to or not, but waving his head, Mason stumbled in the direction, Keane snorting, but otherwise staying put, watching his frame disappear beneath the deck. “Asshole.” He muttered.

I DON'T WANT TO BE
A FUCKING TRAGEDY​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[blue tea]

scroll

betta fish

yuhwa aeng.

birthname

yu hua

courtesy name

yu yingjie

alias

hananoami

nicknames

pretty boy, cherry, pinkie, yeonhwa, yunnie / yinnie, little trickster, pearls, my treasure

title

the pink spider lily, sea maiden, the boy who cried pearls, the siren, madam hua

age

twenty-eight

pronouns

masculine

species

betta fish ( costal reef merman )

position

medic / shaman, tattoo artist, entertainer, ex-siren

abilities

shapeshifting, crying pearls, yin phantom

pinterest

xxx

spotify

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theme song

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I'VE BEEN ALONE FOR SO LONG
I FORGOT WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE LOVED​

He stumbled at the sudden jerk of the ship, head smacking against one of the pots, everything tilted, leaving Yuhwa to tumble around like a weed in the wind with an undignified squawk. His mocha optics widened, panic-stricken. Azure wouldn’t have simply jerked the ship like that, would he? Yuhwa fumbled to right himself, delicate fingers curled tightly around the article of clothing that still smelled strong of Keane and Mason to fumble around, grabbing his medical bag, chest constricting with each rough breath that slipped past soft bitten lips, crusted blood dried and tasting like ichor against his damaged taste buds ( he blamed his lack of control in dumping ungodly amounts of hot sauce on his food that should be concerning, but Yuhwa liked the pain ).

Shaking his helm, the long-haired male scrambled out the door, footsteps echoing against the battle ahead, heart palpitating within its boney prison. Oh, heavens. He certainly hoped no one was too injured, but was it not battle? People were bound to get injured. It just hurt. Realized people he’s been around for some years withering on the ground like suffocating fish until the light seeped out of their eyes, turning dull and lifeless. A sight Yuhwa hoped to never witness again for as long as he allowed himself to live. Of course, Yuhwa was tittering on a delicate balance, threatening to tip over if it hadn’t been for his podmates all those years ago when his soulmate died, taking everything good from him, shattering into a million pieces until there was nothing but a broken shell of his self, albeit healing, but he was so so much better than he had been while a prisoner.

But that all changed, didn’t it? Losing his mate. Losing most of his pod. Losing his children. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to brave the rough seas of his withering emotion, but he had to because who else would take care of Mason and Keane when their lives were just as royally fucked up as his? Who would remind them to eat when he could barely remember to eat himself, too stuck in the past of seeing Sui stuff his face with food, grinning mockingly at the male trapped inside a cage. He could still recall the dribble of berry juice running down his chin, collecting on the golden plater. Yuhwa had been so so hungry, forced to chew on his tongue, hoping to quell the hunger pains.

Fingers curled into tight fists, leaving crescent-shaped indents against his sensitive palms. He had been weak. After all, Sui loved it when he was at his weakest moment. They all did. Biting back a whine that threatened to explode from his throat, Yuhwa hurried onto the deck, wincing at the sudden brightness that burned his retinas, begging for relief, blinking several times to quell the sudden dizziness, wound protesting. He growled in annoyance, shoulders stiffening, face contorting in eerily calmness, helm swerving to peer at his visible crewmates, taking stock of their situation as the battle raged on like an unforgiving storm battling against their hide, threatening to tip them over, but humanity had never once backed down from such challenges nature threw at them. He knew that better than anyone, having stared at it in the face like a withering beast snapping its jaws.

He knew how cruel humans could be. Seeing it now made the argument stronger, because how could such beasts learn to love when all they do is take and fight? Shaking his helm, Yuhwa picked at his fingernails, observing with calculative hues, expression deadpan.

We are no better. He had to remind himself. Of Mason’s dam who manipulated and killed for power. For Keane’s parents who belittled him, uncaring if he can back dead or alive on missions that no mer should face alone. Of his own family who was ripped to shreds. His mother who laid cruel and uncaring fingers on his flesh, burning.

Shaking himself, Yuhwa calmed the thunderous beat of his heart to call out, voice alluring, demanding attention. “Who dares attack us?” He sneered, voice uncannily cold, expression terrifying. Who dared attack those that witted away at his heart just like Mason and Keane had? Bounty Hunters. He couldn’t help but sneer, glancing briefly at those within the vicinity. “The critically injured take refuge—” He paused, catching sight of Emilia, Jin, and Alseelo, but before he could pivot his body in their direction, he was surrounded by three hunters, jeering at him with such disgust that Yuhwa couldn’t help the noticeable flinch, curling away from their taunts to catch sight of Keane and Mason during the mist, mocha optics fleshing in relief at the sight. They were fine. That’s all he could ask for because, without them, Yuhwa would be nothing. He wondered if that was the codependency, but he didn’t have time to think when one’s weapon came spiraling out of his peripheral, jerking him to the side into another, blood splattering the ground where he stood, drawing out a high-pitched keen from the mer.

The pink-tipped male stumbled, drawing away from wicked blades to hiss, fronds flaring out, pupils mere vertical slits without warning, danger spiking, prickling along the exposed skin of his ichor-colored qipao, thighs visible against the long slits of his dress, adorned by elongated boots that grazed the bottom of his kneecaps. With quivering hands, his aura shifted channeling the swarming negativity, emitting a blood-curdling red, black woven, appearing like crackling flames, docile yet brimming with destruction, swirling around his sickly frame.

He wheezed through clenched teeth, finger grappling at the clothing as ebony trailed up his forearms, contrasting against the milky white flesh, appearing more dead than living, but it got them to stumble back, shouting until their voices caved, cutting out, snuffing their souls with a single twitch of his hand, dark tendrils obeying, spearing their midsections until ichor pooled, staining the deck.

Biting back a whimper, Yuhwa stumbled back, feral optics blazed, fronds flaring out in warning. He was a doctor. He shouldn’t be killing! His stomach churned, threatening to spill the empty contents of his stomach without the hefty swallow, coughing into his palm, catching the specks of blood that splattered a soft, calloused palm.

The screams in his head grew louder, negativity swirling around him like hanging ghosts until it drowned everything, begging him to kill, to main those who did them wrong, but Yuhwa—He couldn’t! He was a shaman! He should be healing, not killing. Shut up! Shut up! He’d snarl at the growing darkness within him, cursing his ability to the deepest parts of the ocean.

He could control it. He had to control it. Yuhwa rarely used his ability, poisoning him until he felt dizzy with illness, collapsing until it sucked his very life force. He was dying, but Yuhwa could do nothing to change that. His ability was powerful, but it was just as cruel to him as it was to his enemies, maybe worse. “Damnit.”

Oh. He reached up with shaky fingers to touch his eyes, pulling back to stare at ichor-stained tips. He was bleeding from his orifices, wasn’t he? He cursed, drawing away from the battle with an animalistic hiss, fangs bared at any approaching bound hunter, optics blown wide, stance hunched, cradling his injured side that bled through the bandages, nostrils flaring. I’m no use to anyone freaking out. Get it together, Yuhwa! His mind screamed, barely audible against the screams within his head, begging for destruction, something Yuhwa would never partake in for as long as he breathed.

SACRIFICE, THAT'S WHAT WE DO
FOR THE PEOPLE WE LOVE​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

scroll

great white

mason vangelis.

birthname

azure shimizu

alias

raijin mizushima, bai qinghai " bai he "

nicknames

azu, zuzu, zu, mace / mazy, rai, mizu, aku, az, zero, blue-eyes, little monster

title

thunder beast, the great white, the monster, the cobalt hellhound, the blue devil, chief azu, the jinx

age

twenty-four

pronouns

masculine

species

great white ( arctic merman )

position

shipwright, mercenary, exiled chief

abilities

shapeshifting, blue fire, blue lightning

pinterest

xxx

spotify

xxx

theme song

xxx

SWEETHEART, YOU CAN'T BREAK
WHAT'S ALREADY BROKEN​

He was halfway beneath the deck when it happened. Nearly slamming face-first into the wall if it hadn’t been for his quick reflexes, stopping millimeters from a future broken nose, drawing out a string of curses. What the fuck? He jerked his helm to stare where he’d just come from, brows furrowed, ivory-hued lips thinned.

He barely moved when the ship tilted, nearly knocking him off his feet if it weren’t for his hand grasping the side, keeping his balance until it leveled. The sound of fighting could be heard above deck, drawing a near-feral grin that spread across ivory-hued lips at the promise of a fight. Azure-tinted optics glistened blatantly, weapon resting comfortably on his shoulder, hand settled against the prolonged hilt.

He wondered just what dared attack their ship, instincts blaring to protect, not that it’d change much. He’d been itching for a fight since yesterday after he was almost tossed in jail for setting a local pub on fire because someone got too frisky. Does anyone in that fuckin’ town not understand the word no? He thought with an undignified sneer. He needed some damn redemption from the shit fest that happened yesterday, far too gone in the mael-fest of his mind to give a damn about anything else, save for the ugly burns scattered across his forearms from the sudden burst of hot, unfiltered fire spreading up and until it crackled, burning and burning until it quelled its hunger—for now.

His hand tightened around the hilt, light raining down on his muscular frame advancing, azure optics narrowed, veering to those he could see. He sneered. Showtime fuckers. He wanted to shout, teeth clenched, chest rattling with the silent vibrations of a deep, low guttural snarl.

His body surged forward with a wolfish snarl, lips peeled back to reveal sharp canines that shifted, appearing shark-like by the second, glistening beneath the light’s rays. His Hsu Quandao coiled in his grasp in preparation to swing with all his strength, even if his arms throbbed, begging for relief.

The male momentarily noted Yuhwa, surrounded by hunters, frame quivering with ink-like tendrils crawling up his exposed skin. “Fuck.” His body skidded into a crouch. “Yuhwa! Snap out of it!” He snarled over the fighting, pushing himself forward, dashing towards the other, body emitting a blueish hue, lighting up like a damn Christmas tree.

Sure as hell didn’t miss the way his skin prickled with heat, or the subtle pain that came with it, only growing the longer it licked marred flesh. His lips curled in a grimace. The motion coming and going as quickly as it appeared, face settled in a deadpan expression. He didn’t have time to worry about the damn consequences when Yuhwa needed him, barely catching sight of Keane being tossed over the railing drawing a choked shout to his mat—boyfriend.

With a sneer, Mason swung his blade, knocking the closest down. “Who wants to die?” He sneered, letting out a low guttural growl. His sharp canines dug into the soft flesh of his bottom lip. Time for payback, fuckers. His darkened hues brightened a fraction. Oh, how he missed the steady thrum of his heart, adrenaline pumping through his veins, giving into his bloodlust.

Knocking them out was easy, unappealing to his mer, but all that more satisfying when he landed a punch to another, optics fluttering at the briefest crunch of their nose breaking. Azure-tinted optics caught Yuhwa’s mocha-colored hues, flashing in thanks as he reeled in his ability, giving Mason a nod of confirmation that he’d be alright. With that, his body weaved in and out, Hsu Quandao making large sweeping motions, knocking away anyone. The weapon twirled in his grasp, becoming second nature as he eased into the familiar groove. His eyes paid rapid attention to his crewmates. Was it dangerous? Undoubtedly, but when had Mason ever cared about himself?

His lips peeled into a concentrated grimace, darkened hues narrowed to fine slits. His fingers adjusted along the lengthened handle, allowing his arms to coil until he released that build-up energy with a singular swing, knocking someone off their feet, His lips twitched in triumph, optics flashing dangerously. Take that fucker.

He narrowly avoided being tackled, grunting as they rammed into his side, body morphing into some canine, teeth narrowly missing his side as he stumbled. His Hsu Quandao flew out of his grasp. Fuck! His mind reeled, reaching to grab his second weapon, but before his fingers could curl around the metal, he felt a searing pain run up his right side.

His body arched forward, gaze widening a fraction as its muzzle dug deeper, teeth clamped tightly along the curse of his side, blood spewing from the wound. He groaned. “God fucking damnit—” He choked back a whine, vision hazy with pain.

His body moved on autopilot, gripping the dog’s muzzle, attempting to tear it away from his flesh without damaging it further. Of course. He just had to jinx himself, didn’t he? Damnit. Grounding his teeth, ignoring the searing pain that turned his vision white, Mason let his forearm catch fire, swinging the burnt flesh onto the beast drawing a high-pitched whine from it. His grin turned predatory, watching through narrowed hues as it pulled away from him, shaking itself until it was free of its blistering flames.

He groaned. His chest heaved from the sudden force, vision fading in and out. Shit. His body lay, sprawled out across the wood, gathering his bearings. “Fucking hell.” He grunted, willing his body to roll over. It took some effort, but the raven-haired male could stand, save for the hand pressed tightly against the large bite that adored his side. Another scar added to the list. He thought grumpily.

Mason glanced around for his discarded weapon, only a few feet away from him. He stumbled over to it, body hunched over, favoring his side while remaining alert for the damn shapeshifter. His body continued to crackle with blue fire, dancing along his clothes, and singed threads, but otherwise remained mostly intact. “I look like a damn moron on fucking Christmas.” He muttered, tone humourous.

Damnit. He felt the hot sticky substance seep out of the puncture-like wounds, huffing. Sweeping his trench coat to cover the unsightly wound from eyesight, save for the noticeable drops of ichor that seeped out, splattering on the ground as he walked ( stumbled ).

It didn’t take long to reach his weapon, picking it up with some difficulty, fingers curling around the familiar handle, unaware the beast had recovered, springing forward, jaws aiming to latch onto his shoulder. His body was a moment too late to shield himself as he tumbled to the ground with an undignified shout.

I DON'T WANT TO BE
A FUCKING TRAGEDY​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

scroll

tiger shark

keane valiente.

alias

kazuya hayashi

nicknames

ryker, strife, kea, val, ken, keeny, kee, spark plug, pop rocks, firecracker, rubes, feisty kitten

title

the dancing tiger, spawn of satan, the flaming devil, monstrous nightmare, the slayer, pyro

age

twenty-seven

pronouns

masculine

species

tiger shark ( deep sea merman )

position

shipwright, body guard, ex-chief / warrior

abilities

shapeshifting, explosions

pinterest

xxx

spotify

xxx

theme song

xxx

IF YOU DON'T WANT A SARCASTIC ANSWER
THEN DON'T ASK A STUPID QUESTION​

Watching Mason leave was a breath of fresh air, ruby optics narrowing in annoyance at the man’s stubbornness, borderline suicidal, but he was valid. He knew. But damn did it not concern him, stomach churning with hidden anxiety. Shaking his helm, Keane pivoted, only able to grapple with the railing as the ship shook, knocking the breath out of him, ribs protesting against the harsh thud against the wood. Fucking hell.

Barely able to swing himself over, the ship made an abrupt turn, nearly knocking his grip on the railing if it hadn’t been for the deafening boom saving him from an unflattering fall. His feet landed with a loud thud, barely able to register the captain’s abrupt call, swinging himself over the railing. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He splat, ruby optics murderous. “Fucking bastards!” He shouted, watching the pool of dumbasses rush forward, ignoring the lengthy speech of whoever this bitch was, veins bulging in unfathomable rage.

“Fuckers talk too much.” He huffed, uncaring if anyone heard him or not, already fuming because he had just sent Mason to Yuhwa about those damn burns when these fuckers decide to show up? A reverberating snarl rippled past soft lips, charging forward without prompt, nearly tearing someone’s head off with his bare hands if he hadn’t been knocked to the side. Blood sprayed the ground where the sharp-ended thing dug into his side, drawing out a feral snarl, teeth bared startling the poor bastard. Ruby optics crinkled, crescent-shaped paired with a wide, feral grin as he lunged, tugging the damn thing out and using it against the other. “Shouldn’t have fuckin’ done that prick.” He sneered, catapulting over the asshole to land behind him, arms raising, using the momentum to swing, digging the sharp-edged weapon into the hunter’s side. No doubt nearing his precious organs if it wasn’t for the undignified scream that ripped out of the guy, abruptly cutting off with a sickening twist.

With a grumble, Keane shoved the corpse to the side, peering at the others who thought they were better, and damn didn’t that piss him off. Sorry, Yuhwa. He’d apologize later. The blond pressed a bloodied hand to his side, grimacing, but otherwise standing despite the fuzziness within his helm. His mind tittering between what he’d been bred to do or rein it in, no longer thrilled, but sorrowful because how many lives had he taken? Keane winced at the memory. He must have killed thousands, sinking their ships one by one in a foggy haze of revenge for losing his pod, even if they hadn’t been the greatest.

If it wasn’t for the grief-stricken look Yuhwa processed when he offhandedly mentioned what his parents did, he changed his mind. It had been normal, albeit tiring, always trying to be perfect even if nothing he did was good enough for them. He tried, but that wasn’t good enough, sending him on scouting missions to face monsters much bigger, hoping he’d never return, only to meet disappointed faces when he returned.

Maybe he should have died all those years ago, but damnit, he was here, and Keane sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere. He’d come crawling out of hell if he had to. Nothing would stop him from keeping his new family safe. Death could go fuck himself for all he cared.

With a pained sneer, Keane pivoted, blasting away at an enemy, ignoring the way his forearm twinged in pain, threatening to splinter if he let out any bigger explosions, but when did he ever shy away from pain?

His thoughts were a maelstrom, but his bloodlust was clear, spinning around hunters with a loud cackle, swinging his trident and sending people falling with a large blast, palms prickling in tandem with the throb of his forearm, heart beating in sync that had pounded, but Keane couldn’t have cared less. He was fine. He’d blast the damn thing with a minor explosion, not the first time, even if he had to face Yuhwa’s wrath for being recklessly calculative.

Shouting in anger, Keane was thrown across the enemy’s deck, feet skidding to a halt to stare at a larger hunter, footsteps thunderous as he drew nearer. Ruby optics narrowed, charging forward, grappling with the asshole, muscles quivering with fading vision.

Keane hadn’t seen the hand until it was too late, circling his head as he dangled in the air, dropping his trident in the process to grapple at the hunter’s forearm. His fingernails dug into the tender meat of his forearm, but that did little. His heavy thuds reverberated in his mind, drawing him out of his blood haze to snarl, voice muffled as his breathing became labored, choking. Damnit! Damnit! Let me go, you fucking asshole! He wanted to snarl, reaching forward to blast in the general direction of the hunter’s face, only for something to encompass his wrists, directing the minuscule blast above them. Shit.

He thrashed, spewing out curses that would make anyone blush within his maelstrom of a mind until everything stopped. He didn’t have time to register before he was free falling off the side of the ship, body spinning at random, wind roaring in his ear, threatening to burst the sensation appendages if it hadn’t been for his quick thinking. With a snarl, Keane sent off a larger explosion, body soaring. He ignored his throbbing forearms in the savor of smaller explosions to boost him up higher and higher until he all but swung himself over the railing. His boot found itself in the hunter’s face, using that moment to push himself backward, tumbling against familiar wood.

ANYTHING YOU CAN DO
I CAN DO BLEEDING​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[blue tea]

scroll

great white

mason vangelis.

birthname

azure shimizu

alias

raijin mizushima, bai qinghai " bai he "

nicknames

azu, zuzu, zu, mace / mazy, rai, mizu, aku, az, zero, blue-eyes, little monster

title

thunder beast, the great white, the monster, the cobalt hellhound, the blue devil, chief azu, the jinx

age

twenty-four

pronouns

masculine

species

great white ( arctic merman )

position

shipwright, mercenary, exiled chief

abilities

shapeshifting, blue fire, blue lightning

pinterest

xxx

spotify

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theme song

xxx

SWEETHEART, YOU CAN'T BREAK
WHAT'S ALREADY BROKEN​

He couldn’t breathe. His teeth bared in an animalistic rage at the sharp canines sunk deeper into marred flesh, drawing a strangled whine from the mer, so unlike the expressionless fucker he usually was. His chest heaved with the effort, straining muscle quivering against the beat’s locked jaws threatening to rip muscle from pink bone, but things just stopped.

Hell. He wasn’t sure what was fucking happening with a hazy mind clouded from blood loss as stalagmite-like spikes protruded from the ground, piercing supple flesh. He watched in sick fascination, pupils dilated as blood pooled, coating his frame in the sticky ichor that made his stomach roll. He barely acknowledged Jin, simply sneering because he didn’t need help, god damnit. He would have been fine. He didn’t—Mason bit his bottom lip until it bled, pooling into his mouth like the wound on his side still sopping his tattered clothing.

The raven-haired male bit back a sneer, teeth grinding to muffle the bubbling cries of pain that seeped into his tired bones, blossoming into a fiery inferno. He had dropped his weapon, unsure where it was with his blackening vision threatening to pull him down under, instead clamping down on his bleeding side, nostrils flaring as it throbbed in tandem with the wild beat of his heart pulsating beneath scarred ivory skin.

Damnit to fucking hell. He reached a bloodied hand to clutch raven-hue strands to tug hoping to distract himself from the bubbling pain of his side and shoulder, shredded from beastly teeth that would have torn into him if it wasn’t for Jin, and maybe for a moment he had wanted to meet a gruesome end, but now wasn’t the time when Cornelia came skittering around the giant ass icicle to sling an arm over his shoulder, pulling at his injuries with a muffled “Fuck off” despite the way his stomach churned at the sudden touch.

He hadn’t been paying much attention after that, in and out of consciousness but still moving his lug of a body toward the med-bay, vision hazy. He’d be fine, damnit. He was still breathing, wasn’t he?

It wasn’t until the ship lurched he snapped back into a weird dissociative state, barely hearing the urgency in Cornelia’s voice until the floor beneath him shook, sending him flying with a gurgled snarl, landing with a sickening thud, blacking out.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

The raven-haired male groaned, the sound grating on his ears as he blinked languidly into consciousness. Fucking hell. His pale ivory-hued lips thinned downturn into a grimace succinctly, scowling. “Shut the fuck up.” He gurgled, rolling onto his side to dry-heave, head throbbing.

He sunk his teeth into sensitive flesh, ignoring the blood that trickled down his temple from the sudden hit, duly noting that head wounds bled more. Not that he gave a flying fuck right now. He had a semi-decent grip on consciousness, enough to realize he was still bleeding out all over the damn floor that’d be a bitch to clean when Mason took it upon himself to do something that’d sure wouldn’t smell too great.

His hand hovered over the worst of his injuries, hand blaring a bright blue as the flames gradually grew in size singing his ivory-hued flesh until the wretched stench of burning flesh was the only thing he could smell. He grunted, canines digging into his bottom lip to ward off the cry that threatened to spill past blood-stained lips. The pressure alone was enough to tear into the flesh, no doubt tasting copper on bloodied taste buds if it weren’t for the blistering pain that pulsated with the burns along his forearm.

He did the same for his shoulder, having enough sense to peel his trench coat and what little of his shirt remained, exposing marred ivory flesh, untouched by humans. There was a flash of self-consciousness, but Mason didn’t have the time to dwell on it when he set a crackling palm against the bleeding wound, letting out loud, shuddering breaths until he deemed them good enough to where he wouldn’t bleed out before Yuhwa got here.

He sunk further into the ground, tiredness weighing heavily on his battered frame, hand resting limply across his exposed stomach, chest heaving with pained rasps. “Shit.” He laughed weakly, reaching a bloodied hand to drag through matted curls. “Anyone else need a drink after this shit fest?” He rumbled. He could really go for a bottle of vodka right now.

@Shadowfall @Kaerri

I DON'T WANT TO BE
A FUCKING TRAGEDY​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

scroll

tiger shark

keane valiente.

alias

kazuya hayashi

nicknames

ryker, strife, kea, val, ken, keeny, kee, spark plug, pop rocks, firecracker, rubes, feisty kitten

title

the dancing tiger, spawn of satan, the flaming devil, monstrous nightmare, the slayer, pyro

age

twenty-seven

pronouns

masculine

species

tiger shark ( deep sea merman )

position

shipwright, body guard, ex-chief / warrior

abilities

shapeshifting, explosions

pinterest

xxx

spotify

xxx

theme song

xxx

IF YOU DON'T WANT A SARCASTIC ANSWER
THEN DON'T ASK A STUPID QUESTION​

The ruby-eyed male didn’t have time to react until they catapulted him, watching the captain with wide eyes, not quite registering what was being said other than it feeling more like a goodbye than anything else. And that sent alarm bells ringing with a hoarse shout, but it was too late when he all but ate wood.

Protect those you love. He scowled, fingers curling into his calloused palms. That includes you, damnit! He could feel the prickling sense of failure seep beneath his skin as he stumbled, knees hitting the rough wood, body leaning sideways. “Bastard!” He snarled, willing his body to move, but it seemed the last ounce of adrenaline was zapped from his haggard form.

It was then he realized the blood that soaked his side, ruby optics flickering down to stare at the nasty wound with a pained grunt, just now realizing the familiar burn of his forearms from the overuse of his ability. He barely made out Cypher’s form calling out to him, brows furrowed wondering just what the other was saying, only catching the last few words. Right. He needed medical attention.

He couldn’t help the bitterness that swelled, tasting foul on his tongue because he could have done something. He hadn’t been quick enough, overpowered by shock to act. He couldn’t help the inky grips of darkness that shackled his heart because he had been the last damn person to see the captain and it was his fault.

He killed the captain.

He barely heard Azure’s voice over his self-decrypting realization until a defining explosion snapped him out of his mind-numbing thoughts, ship lurching. Keane moved before he could think, muscular arms wrapping around the other, bracing himself against the railing, facing inward with an animalistic rumble that rattled his chest.

He released his hold on the other, peeling out a ruby optic to stare at the unmoving ship, breathing deeply despite the blistering pain it brought becoming harder to breathe. Damnit. He refused to pass out. Not here. “You alright?” He rumbled, tone hoarse.

@606

ANYTHING YOU CAN DO
I CAN DO BLEEDING​

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[blue tea]

scroll

superhero

lux.

alias

lumin / archangel

age

eighteen

pronouns

masculine

district

district eleven

outfit

xxx

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spotify

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theme song

xxx

Lux hadn’t expected it, cursing himself for not being on his a-game, sent flying, barely able to catch himself before his back collided with the brick. His chest sputtered, breath caught in his throat as a pained whine escaped soft bitten lips. Shit, that hurt. He breathed shakily, dragging a hand through oily, blond locks, grimacing. Right—He blinked languidly, barely able to see the oncoming punch until he tumbled out of the way, wings flaring out, knocking into the building in his haste.

Now that hurt. He hissed, sensitive appendages blistering with pain. It wasn’t until brick, and glass rained down on him, arms snapping upward within seconds to wrap around his helm. He bit down on his bottom lip, tasting the coppery tinge of ichor that coated his tastebuds like tar.

He cringed, listening to the reverberating clings of his prosthetic that sent shockwaves up his stump and into frayed nerves, far too sensitive to be considered anything but concerning. He never bothered getting it checked out. He huffed. Lux didn’t have the best prosthetics, done hastily in a hospital with low funds. It was a wonder how he even got them then.

“Get your head in the game.” He hissed. He hadn’t been all there since holding his mentor’s funeral in stiff silence, unable to hold back the flow of tears. His mentor was dead. Someone killed his mentor—his father figure. The only person who gave a damn about him, missing limbs and all. He was dead. And Lux barely had any leads.

Hell. He needed a shower. He needed to eat. He needed to take care of himself, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t trying. He had so much to do, swamped with hero work it felt like he ran a thousand miles every day.

“Oh, shit.” He yelped. Gunfire broke out, splattering the abandoned building in a fiery haze of molten copper. He narrowly dodged the spray of bullets, pulling blood-splattered wings tight to his malnourished frame to get away from the mass sea of bullets, nearly becoming a cheese grater. Shit. Shit. Shit. He cursed, legs wobbly from the earlier impact that nearly sent him face-first into the pavement. He would have certainly ‘eaten shit’ if it wasn’t for the quick snap of his wings keeping him balanced.

His voice rang out across the empty streets, urging civilians to hide. It took a little convincing. If he used his body as a shield, then well, no one had to know, right? He grunted, glad his metal limb had some use then causing him nerve damage.

It was then that Lux used the only named skill he had, wounded wings speckled with ichor stretched outward only to snap forward, curling half-heartedly around his frame to send a gust of wind in their direction. He had hoped it would have knocked a few of them down, but they remained standing. He cursed. “Guess talking about this is out of the question.” He muttered, nose crinkling in disgust, already feeling the prickle of unease that made gooseflesh rise along his fleshy limb.

It went to hell after that, sending attack after attack, dodging gunfire, and keeping an eye out for any wandering civilian, Lux was getting his ass kicked as embarrassing as it was. He needed to get closer to do something other than run around like some clueless idiot.

The blond had dove inside the abandoned building, taking stock of his injuries, some healing, and others raw and bleeding ichor. He didn’t have the energy to heal anything else, already feeling the pull of his consciousness threatening to take him under. He bit the inside of his cheek, mind a maelstrom of thoughts. Shoot. Okay. Think Lux. He was running out of energy. That was obvious. He needed to end this fast, or—Lux winced. He had to run.

He breathed shakily until it turned into a coughing fit, ribs screaming in protest. The adrenaline was wearing out, replaced by bone-crushing exhaustion. He always prided himself on his adaptability, no less his quick thinking, but he wasn’t doing so hot. A laugh bubbled up, swallowed down by the clamp of his teeth.

He peeked out from behind the shattered glass, gaze widening behind circular frames at the bulkier members picking their way toward the building. Oh, that’s not good. He glanced down at his battered frame, blood splattered across his temporary outfit, shredded in some places, and looking as if he had gone through a war zone. I look awful. He laughed, blue optics crinkling.

Lux heard the heavy thump of feet echoing before he saw them, surging upward, wings angling to shoot out of another window and onto the questionable roof. He had urged the construction company to demolish it, worried it would collapse and cause more harm, but for now, the blond was thankful they hadn’t yet.

Lux had little time to think, instead of catching sight of the bulkier individual standing in all of his glory, hidden behind a weird mask. “Sending out the big guy now?” He muttered, huffing. Well, shit. He was doomed. Maybe he should have bolted before he became a viscera pancake. “Think we can talk about you guys—” Guess not. He narrowly avoided him, taking on a defensive approach as the other landed a hefty punch to his gut, nearly sending the hero toppling over if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, landing a well-aimed kick to the lackey’s knee.

He huffed, chest heaving from putting his body into overdrive, sending a gust of wind in his opponent’s direction only to be sent sailing across the roof, boots digging into the ground to keep him upright, wings flared out. His blue optics narrowed, surging forward with newfound determination, hand shooting out to grab his superellipse-like barreled gun strapped to his thigh, aiming it and firing with terrifying accuracy into the bulkier male’s shoulder.

He didn’t waste time, tucking the gun into his thigh strap to grapple with the male, sending out a series of punches and kicks, feeling his nerves alight with such agony that Lux didn’t have time to dodge the hand that encompassed his head, dangling him in the air. His wings fluffed in terror, hands grappling at the individual’s wrist, blunt fingers digging into the meat of his wrist.

His vision spiraled, limbs falling limp until he let go, dropping his malnourished frame on the rickety roof unceremoniously. Lux barely noted the tube before his vision darkened, succumbing to his consciousness.

He woke up to the sound of ringing, groaning until he finished out the device to an unknown voice filtering through the speakers. His mind sluggish, thoughts broken, and ears feeling like someone had stuffed them with cotton made it difficult to hear until his mentor’s name sent him upright, muscles tensing.

"Meet me at a warehouse marked 42 in District 3. It is by the docks. Please, do be discreet if you wish to meet me."

He remained silent, tucking his phone into his pocket, mind reeling. His heart bled, wounds reopening until a sob escaped his lips, hand pressed against his face, teeth-gritting. It was a sharp reminder that his father was dead. It hurt. It made his skin itch and burn, but he couldn’t sit here and wallow in his grief, instead focusing on the tube with some kind of luminescent liquid.

Lux leaned forward, picking up the object with nimble fingers to tuck it into his shredded outfit. Right. He needed to head to District 3 if he wanted answers. His curiosity getting the best of him.

He didn’t bother changing, sore wings outstretched till he was up in the air, sailing across buildings. It took some time until the familiar sight of District 3 came into view, landing ( more like falling ) with a quiet thump. His muscles quivered, threatening to give out at any second as he made his way to Warehouse 42.

thought speech​

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[blue tea]

It had been a turbulent night, one birthed of ghoulish nightmares and bleeding ichor, watching his lover, his soulmate and partner in crime wither against the blankets, breath hot and heavy as it came in short, raspy gasps. It could have been worse, but the weak assurance did nothing to soothe his concerns. Nightmares are difficult to grasp, birthed from our fears alone, omens, some would say to a daunting future. If only I could protect you, my xīngān, but it is not I that can save you. He breathed wearily, calloused hand from years worth of sword practice coming to rest against his face, fingers sinking into the pliable flesh of his temples in contemplation, tiredness weighing heavily against his pulsating soul that thumped in tandem with the slow beat of his heart. Although I cannot save you from your demons, I can be there to share the burden, if only you would let me.

With that, Zhulong pulled away, hand dropping to stare at the empty spot, hand skimming over the soft blankets collected from their many journeys. It provided a homey feeling, a makeshift nest perfect for them and anyone else who needed a quiet place to rest away from the hustle and bustle of being a crewmate. Liquid golden flickered, settling on the various objects that breathed Tsukuyomi, animal bones neatly tucked away, and unfinished projects scattered throughout the room in places that didn’t risk injury. Of course, Tsukuyomi always managed to knick his finger or burn himself, but it came with being a blacksmith, knowledgeable in various things.

His plush, ivory-hued lips parted at the beginning of a yawn, hand reaching to muffle the sound that emitted, timbre low and hoarse, starting his morning routine, taming his mane of white, fluffy locks and tying it up partially with a red ribbon and pulling out his clothing for the day that stuck to his muscular build, broad shoulders pulled back in a languid strength as he fiddled with the off-set sleeve, unattached save for the black elastic band that wrapped around his bicep twice, securing its perch. He hummed, something low and thunderous that vibrated, ears swerving on top of his mane, catching the last tendrils of conversation from Jin talking to Red, Serina, and Traqil. A peculiar morning, this has become. Perhaps it is selfish of me to hope for a mundane morning, but I wouldn’t have joined if I hadn’t expected times of unpredictability. He sighed, breathless and tense, tail coming to flicker behind him in contemplation, brows pulled downward. It is wise to be careful. The world is as unpredictable as the grueling waves of the untamed sea. He thought with a flick of his tail, emerging from his shared bedroom.

Zhulong gravitated toward the kitchen carrying his glaive tucked against his shoulder, calloused fingers curled languidly around the elongated pole, catching sight of Lindsey and Luvenia, each within their world. “Good morning.” He greeted the two, golden hues crinkling with an upturned quirk of his lips in a cheery grin.

It wasn’t until he noticed Tsukuyomi cooking. The white lion rested his glaive against the table’s edge to press a chaste kiss to Tsukuyomi’s temple, thick, calloused fingers reaching to thread through luscious blue locks lightly tugging the strands. This earned an annoyed huff from the raven. He grinned cheekily, golden hues crinkling, causing clear crow’s feet and smiling lines against his marred milky-white flesh. “Good morning, my xīngān.” He rumbled like calm thunder, bumping his nose against the other’s cheek in an affection greeting, pulling away to observe his husband’s hands, busy with their task of cooking them a pleasant meal for the day, having felt the ship touch down as it rumbled beneath his boot-cladded feet.

“How long have you been awake, my love?” He whispered against the raven’s ear, gaze narrowing. “Do not forget, my xīngān, that you can wake me.” He rumbled, tail reaching to wrap around Tsukuyomi’s wrist, brow raising at the flutter of wings, annoyance spread openly across a haunting face drawing a loud laugh from the lion, grinning, Zhulong released the other, stepping back to see a steaming cup of jasmine tea awaiting him. “My xīngān knows me well.” He complimented, sitting down and taking a sip.

thought speech​

battle tacticin

leigong.

• aaaaaaaaa
• aaaaaaaaa

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  tense, but relaxed

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  location

  
  
  
  

  dining area

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

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  click here

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  interactions

  
  
  
  

  kaladin, linsdey, luvenia

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  mentions

  
  
  
  

  jin, red, serina, traqil

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

♡coded by uxie♡

He stared downward, freshly bandaged from another restless night of ghouls and monsters that seemed never-ending, haunting and haunting him until his lungs collapsed and his heart beat out of his chest in a bloody, beautiful mess with Zhulong nowhere to be seen. He gritted his teeth, ruby hues narrowing to starve off the burning behind his hues, tiredness weighing over him like a thundercloud. If only death would make them go away. He thought morbidly, calloused fingers smoothing over the animal skull tucked within his grasp, staring into empty sockets with an expression smothered with practiced ease.

Pathetic. He hissed, wings flaring out, pressing against the wooden walls of their room, finding himself staring at his husband’s sleeping frame, wearily lines pressed deep into the divots of his skin. You did that. His mind sneered unhelpfully. Of course. He responded, deadpan. If only you left me alone. He sighed, pressing a bandaged hand against his face in exasperation. Quiet now, are we? He hummed, flipping the skull over to peer at the cranium’s interior. If only my thoughts were as empty as this. He snorted. Then I’d become a useless puppet. His harsh-bitten lips curled downward, a scowl forming with the down curve of his eyebrows. A soulless creature, isn’t that what I am? He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

The sun had yet to rise, still bathing the land in moonlight’s glow when he gathered himself, putting on something more presentable that didn’t comprise a black tank top and grey sweatpants that often hung loose over his bony hips, broad shoulders flexing beneath clothing, the raven slipped out into the night, boot-cladded feet padding toward the kitchen in need of caffeine.

Like clockwork, Kaladin sat perched on a wooden chair holding a mug of steaming coffee ( no sugar or milk added ), relishing in the bitter taste that slid down his throat. He hummed, ruby, molten hues skimming from his place, feathered wings curling around his sinewy frame.

Hours later, dawn breaks over the horizon, and with it, the ship comes to life. The raven shifted, placing his now empty cup on the table to drag spider-like fingers through dark blue hair, eventually fixing the hairpin nestled within the cocoon of hair, putting it up in a half-up, half-down style. “And so another miserable day begins.” He muttered, spinning around the kitchen in search of ingredients and the jasmine tea tucked away from prying hands. He tsked quietly, ignoring the shuffle of footsteps as Lindsey and Luvenia came into the picture, each grabbing coffee before starting the harrowing day that was sure to be.

If they offered him a good morning, Kaladin wouldn’t acknowledge it, raven wings twitching against his scapula, brow twitching in annoyance, but otherwise remained deadpan. His gaze remained locked on the food set before him, having already placed a hot cup of jasmine tea on the table—speaking of the devil, he huffed, rolling molten red hues at his husband, returning the gesture with his own gentle nuzzle, lips brushing against the other’s soft cheek in a quiet ‘good morning’.

“A while.” He rumbled, ignoring the look of concern in favor of focusing on the task at hand. “I’ll wake you the next time.” A lie, they both knew it, but a quiet reassurance that most wouldn’t understand, perhaps never and Kaladin was fine with that, shrouded in mystery even if they’d been here since the beginning, Kaladin was nothing but an enigma, collecting animal bones and speaking of death’s throes. His wings fluttered in annoyance, leaning into Zhulong’s welcoming embrace with a sigh, muscles falling lax until the other pulled away to sit at the table, holding a cup of jasmine tea. “Of course.” He grunted, brow raised. “If I didn’t then how could you possibly call me your husband?” He muttered, wings twitching against his frame with the sarcastic remark, dark lips curled cruelly, appearing menacing, but Zhulong merely laughed, timbre like rolling thunder, hand waving while the other remained curled around the cup. “Idiot.” He muttered, shaking his helm.

With two plates in hand, the raven placed one in front of Zhulong, pressing a chaste kiss to the other’s temple, thumb reaching to soothe the fraying strands of hair in front of his injured hue. “Eat.” He rumbled. “You’ll need to take your pills afterward.” He added, placing the other an open seat, no chair insight. At the affirmed grunt, Kaladin hummed. “Don’t let the others steal, I will return.” He muttered, placing his plate beside Zhulong, boot-cladded feet gravitating toward the rooms. His hand flexed, willing his ability forward, dark wispy tendrils rising from his palm, watching it curl and fluctuate with boredom.

Nearing the rooms, having gone further into the haul of the ship, Kaladin grumbled, wings twitching against his back, he knocked on Damien’s door, already figuring Red had vanished toward the upper deck. “Let’s go.” He rumbled, once the door opened, not bothering with pleasantries, dark tendrils surged forward, curling around the wheelchair and picking the other up with practiced ease, unaffected. “Food is on the table.” He spoke, tugging the other along toward the eating area. Whether the other talked, Kaladin remained characteristically silent, responding with the occasional grunt or hum.

Setting the other down with a wave of his hand, the raven jerked his chin toward the plate of food, brow-raising at Julie’s appearance. Of course, the peace wouldn’t last. “Starting the morning with disturbance, I see.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, wings flaring outward till they pulled back, tucking them against his shoulder to return to Zhulong’s side, while a wing jerked toward the plate made for Damien, silent as he settled, perched on the chair with another cup of coffee held between his hands.

thought speech​

blacksmith

kaladin.

• aaaaaaaaa
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  click here

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  interactions

  
  
  
  

  zhulong, julia, damien

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  mentions

  
  
  
  

  jin, red, lindsey, luvenia

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

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