avryujin-blog

[avryujin-blog]

Kazuki Ryujin’s Cloak & Dater Profile ( ft. his secondary meme account )

[ KR Swipe ( ? ) for Ryujin, R Swipe ( ? ) for Rock. Latter may end with a rock to the head, we don’t know. ]

[avryujin-blog]

solo. | broken white lies.

He stood not on desolate lands, but the Avengers Park. He supposed he should think it’s good to be back, but the moonshine bottle in his hand was a heavy reminder of what he lost. Looking at the dirty and scratched up glass, he could not help but thumb the opening that was without its cap. ( “Take this, don’t forget me, because I’ll be back!” As he did the terminator pose, a reference most likely lost to the other. He tried to ignore how it felt as if a piece of his heart that was just healing was ripped off again as he looked at the other. Because this was not where he belonged, not really. This wasn’t his home and he was an idiot to have given pieces of his ruined heart like that. He may have said that, but deep down he thought that he’ll never return. And even if he did, it’d probably be when the other’s in his grave. God, the fact he shared a face with Sungjin too— He wanted to hurl, but this was what he did to himself. And for that alternate Sungjin, he had to at least give him hope. In that shitty world, he needed to give something good instead of showing how deeply broken he was inside. A nice white lie.) He should really stop these connections, all these strings he tied himself with to others. It only served to hurt himself more. However, with the knowledge that the world wasn’t thousands of years ahead...that meant that perhaps, some people did still exist. It could only be so right? That was the logical explanation, the hopeful idea. Yet, in the pits of his core, there’s always the belief that something’s just going to fuck up even more. And as he finally raised his head, he found his gaze instantly drawn to the shadows of some trees. For he saw familiar rubies within, and when he did... God, things was just going to get worse wasn’t it?

Discreetly, he moved away. He wondered what Death wanted from him this time. But with such thoughts in mind distracting him, once he entered the shadowy area—he found himself falling down to an abyss. Biting his lips to prevent himself from yelping and holding the moonshine bottle close to prevent it from breaking, he only made a sound once he slammed face-first to the ground. The ground he ha no doubt was of Death’s realm and not anywhere near the Avengers park or the living world for that matter. “And I put that landing to a D. Really Ryu-chan, you couldn’t have landed in the pit of spikes like last time? Is your luck getting better or is this a rare time karma decided to be nice to you because you got fucked up badly?” He groaned hearing a familiar voice, rolling over and thanking the fact he did not break his nose,he looked up to see the face of the bitchiest bitch to ever bitch. Blues glared into reds, a scowl on his feature that was a contrast to her cheshire grin. “Oh come on love, don’t be so gloomy! Shouldn’t you be happy that bottle of your’s didn’t break?” She teased, causing him to roll his eyes as he moved himself to a standing position. “The fuck you want woman? I know you know I just dealt with some shit and I don’t want to see your face just yet.” He snidely responded, but as he caught her expression he froze. It was set into a smile of cheer, he usual expression, however he knew her too well. Her eyes were telling, those bloody orbs that now looked at him in pity. Oh, he wasn’t going to like this at all. “Seventy years passed only, huh? That must be nice to know.” She nonchalantly stated, looking down at her nails that were just as red as her eyes and lips. Anxiety started to wash over him, a rush of a moment that only Death seemed to be capable of doing to him. He was only controlling himself because he didn’t want to break the bottle in his hand. “...Ebony, get to the point.” Words that sounded like an order, but both knew were a plea. And the use of her human name was telling, a sign that things have just gotten serious—a mood they detested. She froze, before she looked back at him. Silence befell upon them, and he felt the nerves ready to burst. But finally, the powerful being spoke. “Don’t get your hopes up. They don’t exist anymore.” She bluntly told him, causing him to flinch. But she did not stop there, instead she dropped an even more powerful bomb. “In fact, the world you know is gone.” Silence once more, and only a stunned look from him before he choked out a “What?” She didn’t quickly answer once more, merely looking at him. Saw how he was crumbling bit by bit when he was already in a fractured state. But it was necessary to tell him now, necessary to give him everything that will ruin him in one straight punch then letting him get his hopes up before crashing it all down. She should have told him truthfully the first time around, but even an entity like her made mistakes. Thinking he could heal before the truth came out ( but when was he ever that luck? ). “74 years ago, an apocalypse occurred to your world. One much worse than Thanos or anything they’ve faced. Absolutely horrible without any escape. You were fighting alongside me in war, but behind your back I retrieved your body in order to send you to a safe world. I couldn’t care enough to get everyone else, it would be too much of a bother and risky. You were tagged as mine so I had some leeway and made a few deals. That’s how you got into this world. And this world is pretty similar, had the whole time perception alteration going on, and ideal to keep you in for the time being.” She informed him coldly. A normal person would get enraged, would scream at her for telling them that she couldn’t bothered with the people they cared for. But this was Ryujin, and Ryujin knew Death. He knew how she worked, knew that she could never care so much for those around him. It wasn’t the first something like this happened, but it was never to this scale. And he’s tired, exhausted. He just came back from another world leaving someone he had grown to love, then he came back trying to see how he could fix himself and with bits of hope—only to be told all...that. All he could say was— “You got the Demon’s Venom ready? I don’t think I want to go back soon.” Translation: Congratulations, you’ve broken me again now let me pretend I’m drunk. Let me forget, play along and let me cry for everything I’ve lost. Let me hate you for keeping me alive still. And let me blame it all on myself in the end, I’m too tired to be bitter about something else. Sharp eyes caught his lifeless ones, and with a wave she seemed to produce the bottle of alcohol out of nowhere. She handed it to him as he proceeded to drink ‘til he dropped ( but he never would ). She’s the only one to see him break down in that moment, protecting his moonshine bottle as he broke everything else. She answered every question he had on the lost souls gone to him, and at times she’d snidely remark about what of the people he met today?  “They’d disappear one day too.”  The truth was a painful concept. Death liked to shower him in white lies but it all broke in the end as the truth revealed itself. His life was of tragedy, but they both knew it was still to amuse Death. Even if he broke a million times in front of her, she would only be a little bit sad because it made him hate her more. Selfish woman, but he was selfish too. Because she was his crutch in such moments, she was the only one he could dare tell everything. Because she’ll remember it all, knew it all, and she would never disappear from his life. Because he just wanted something constant in his life. It took ages, but when he returned it would have only been awhile. And when he returned, it’ll be with a smile on his face and an air of nonchalance. A broken white lie of who he really was.

[avryujin-blog]

jkj. | connection compulsive disorder.

He’s ill in the head, but he’s never gotten the proper check-up. He sends off therapists before the could give him prescriptions, denying a professional’s help simply because none of those fools could really handle it. Not really. After all, if they all run off already, then how could they ever dream to understand him?  He knew himself best. Knew all the twists and cracks of his core, where it all was wrong and needed help. But he’s so littered by it that he didn’t know where to begin, and the wounds never stopped festering. It’s a horrid thing, his being, and he thought to himself: there’s just no way he could be healed. He shouldn’t blame himself really, it only piled up the guilt and self-loathing, but if he stopped now he’ll just grow bitter of the world. This horrible place he’s trying to love. And oh, love and the heart, wasn’t that just another bag of problems he wanted to throw away? Because now he’s got a cavern in his chest, running deep and as unknown as what lied within the deep sea. He knew it was stuffed before, filling up like cotton in a fluffed up doll. But now it felt light, too empty, after everything within it was simply ripped out down the the last speck. It’s empty, and he’s become hungry. Yet it hurts, tender and vulnerable every time he tried to shove something inside. Like the dark matter put in between his wounds trying to stitch him back together. Connections, people, relations, such a thing was a nifty cure for that certain illness. He grabbed all that he could and sometimes he thought of how many times he’s so close to seeking something more than just platonic. He thought of a face, a version lost to him now and the only thing marking their meeting was the faded memories of that man’s touch on him and a moonshine bottle that lost its cap. A prime example of a good medicine that healed him up but made him reliant, and then its gone and the illness is back but more painful than he imagined. Which led to finding more medicine, or whatever other ones he had ( wasn’t he such a horrid one, comparing people to medicine now ). That’s why he’s here again, more clingy than before. Another cure drug that he indulged in to fix him up. He fished out the key in his pocket ( god, how could he even be trusted with the keys? such a whipped fool but he’s no better ). It’s dark and he’s trying to ignore the shadows around him, the raging voices that only he could hear, concentrating on opening the door. Once it was open, he managed to quickly, but quietly, shut the door. With practiced ease he heads to his target, who’s on bed as expected, and plopped down next to him without a word. “Hey.” A simple greeting, because he’s still trying to keep himself afloat and put together. Strained smile and tired eyes look over to the other, and he hated the warmth that spreads through his body and the trust that bloomed in him. Because he had that feeling too, not too long ago with the same man another ( for he’s a glutton you see, and he hears Death saying that was his sin all along ‘you hunger to be loved’ ).

@letalisav

[avryujin-blog]

nht. | how to human again.

To Ryujin, every living being were pretty much the same. Yeah, sure, some can talk while others don’t. Or some looks a lot different, maybe even a huge anatomical change ( fishes are fucking weird for that matter, anything in the sea was a god damn mystery ) but nonetheless they were all living beings. And to him, if you’re living then you’re an individual with all sort of emotions and shit. That’s why he treated anyone and everyone ( even the plants, because give them a break—and, well, after you meet a bunch of cherry blossom trees decked in business suits trying to fight for their rights...it’s difficult to mistreat them ) equally. And just because he said equally didn’t mean he was nice to everyone. Cut him some slack, he got to have fun right? And it’s too fun calling out on a three-headed demon dog getting their ass beat by a chihuahua ( granted, those fuckers were terrifying ). Moreover, he liked having drinking buddies, because drinking buddies can come in any shape and form. That included cats, because cat whiskey existed and he fed that to a certain calico cat frequently. Sure, the cat wasn’t really a cat. And yeah, he’s now human and all. But he figure that as such, he had to simply reintroduce the guy to proper whiskey. That’s one way to kind of seep back into your human self, right?  Seeing his target, Ryujin waltzed to the much younger soul whilst swinging the whiskey bottle in haphazardly ( and he wondered why all his bottles get fucked but screw it he could get more from Death ). “Yo dude! Welcome back to the world of humanity where things are still shitty. As your wonderful friend from those cat days, I’ve come here to assist you in the how-to-human-again phase. First stage,” he popped open the whiskey bottle and handed it to the other with a much too bright grin, “let’s have some human whiskey, aye?”

@avcalico  

[avryujin-blog]

what's something no one knows about you?

“Oh? You know i’m like an open book right?” Complete and utter bullshit, but he liked to think that he was. After all, to majority he was that little shit that tends to blabber on too much. Or that really fucked up kid that no one really knew how screwed he was. But that’s not something he liked to really talk about per se.“Hm, but something I haven’t really revealed yet?” Putting a hand on his chin, he mulled it over. Mainly because there’s a lot he didn’t say, with this life of his full of twists and turns that which he never really revealed to others. It’s not necessary to blurt out everything after all. In the end, he decided to settle with something mild.“Well, fun fact of Ryujin 101: I call Death by another name I only use when it’s just us. Ebony Mortem, the biggest bitch of all dimensions.” He announced it in an over the top manner, wide sweeping gestures of his arm, booming voice and all. There’s a lot more he didn’t add to it, but that’s really just something that they kept both to themselves.“And yeah, technically that ain’t no one exactly because duh, Death knows too, but I’d like to add the ‘in this academy’ between the no one and the knows.” He chirped with glee. It’s not like he wanted to reveal any more of his issues either.

[avryujin-blog]

worst thing you've ever seen?

“You really want to know?” He hummed, looking at her with a much more piercing look. He’s got horror stories on his belt, enough to drive anyone mad. Got so many fucked up scenes he walked into that once couldn’t ever dream of. But perhaps...the worst thing was...“I wouldn’t really call it the worst, but it’s something I can’t ever forget. Not ever.” The breath he took was shuddering, his eyes darkening to a deeper and more haunting blue. He still remembered that person, and he still thinks they follow him, right behind him, hands curled around his neck.

“She was normal, plain face and plain personality. But I liked that about her. I liked how she was just so mundane in this wild life of mine. Her name was Alice, and she was always so fascinated by my dumb stories. You know, despite the average personality and looks she was pretty rich and her parents wanted her to be as successful as her siblings. Locked her in until she can be as wonderful as them, and I was her only connection to the world outside.” He described the woman, still remembered that her which once existed. “I was like some prince in her eyes was what she told me, fucking hilarious i know—but I was everything she wished to have. Because in her eyes, I lived the life of freedom, and I could just go against the world and give it a big fuck you because I was stronger than it. She idolized me a lot like that.”“...I should have told her how it hurts. Should have told her how shitty it really was. But instead, just once, I wanted to be someone’s hero. And hey—she’s smiling right, that’s gotta be a good thing right? That’s how it goes...” He looked at the other, as if seeking for reassurance that yes, he was right. But his eyes spoke otherwise, it was of acceptance and guilt of what truly happened. “But then...I don’t know, she just vanished one day. No one knew what the fuck happened. And I, being the nosy bitch I am, decided to sneak around. Found a letter for me. I could tell you all the words but I’m not going to waste any more of your time. All you should know was that...She loved me a lot and wanted to be like me, and when some whack ass people came to her giving that chance to be more—she took it.” Fists clenched tightly, knuckles white and oh he was getting to the part. The one that’s been a constant in his nightmares.He felt her head next to his. Her hand hovering on his lips as if trying to silence him. Stop telling your stories, she seemed to say, it only ruins people. And he wished he could beg her for forgiveness, but sometimes he’s not sure if it’s really her by him. He didn’t dare look to the side, not if it meant looking at what she became.“I found her. I found her and sometimes I wished I never did.” His smile was cracked, ruined, his body seemingly poorly held up now. And he hated how he still trembled from remembering.

“Human experimentation. Meant to make them better. She was a terrifying thing to look at.” He saw her now, saw her image draped over the other just because they both were women. He looked at Olivia, but he’s seeing Alice, and he couldn’t help but let the description roll out of his mouth “Brown locks pulled out, black ones having been implanted but not fully. One eye was gouged out, the other now a blue that she must have tried hard to gain. Her legs weren’t human anymore, and her hands were different, much more of the standard view of pretty. And I see pieces of her skin changed, some paler than others. Skin also burned, probably form punishments. But the worst thing was...”

He saw it now, he heard it as well, could feel her coming closer as she walked up to him with her deformed legs.“She smiled at me. It was an ugly and broken thing. And she asked me if she became as perfect as me, or was in the progress of it.” His eyes were lifeless now, and he watched as the delusion, the ghost, crumpled down to the ground. “I killed her. I saw what she turned into, not only in appearance, but in her character. She was broken, obsessed, and the Alice I knew was already gone to the world—a soul clinging onto a disfigured body.” “I dealt with the people next, found more fucked up experimentation. And you know it really wasn’t just gore, it was so much that I didn’t even know where to begin. I demolished the whole place, I ended the people behind it, and I can’t say they deserve to live.” He stopped then, ended it there and new he couldn’t say anymore. Not unless he wanted to see it all again, or to break down at the moment.Why did you do this to me? Her voice, a whisper of despair entered his mind. He ignored it by merely looking at Olivia, properly now, and stating “And that’s it. The end of one of the many horror stories I got on my belt. Maybe it’s not even the worst, I’ve seen too much shit in this life of mine already.”

[avryujin-blog]

imagine being in a snow globe and libing one event in one place for the rest of your days. what event would that be? where would you be?

“Okay, first of all—what is this libing you speak of?” He pointed out with a smirk. But he decided that he had to answer anyway, so with a hum he mulled it over.“Well certainly not me dying constantly, or in the pits of hell. Though, hell ain’t that bad. Got some night clubs and a hell lot of good alcohol. There was even an arcade! They had their own version of DDR, fucking fantastic I tell you.” He blabbered on whilst simultaneously processing the thoughts in his mind. But he knew what he wanted, knew it all too well.He remained silent a bit longer, looking at the other with a pensive look before giving out a sigh. Bright blues got hazier, still on the other, yet it seemed to go through and was looking into the distance. Finally, words spilled out of his lips “I’d be in home, my real home. In Japan, in that house with my mom and dad. The event that’ll always be on repeat would be everyone I cared about coming over to celebrate some shit like a birthday or because they’re sappy fucks—and we’re all happy and safe and they’re alive.”He took a deep breath, pulling away from his reverie as he bitterly chuckled. As if trying to stop himself from deluding himself, he waved off the imagery with a hand. Such beautiful visage turning back to the ugly truth, with monsters lying in wait at the corner of his eyes.“But, we all know that’s just a dream. A faraway dream I don’t deserve…” The last sentence was murmured, barely able to be heard. However, as soon as the mood dampened, he shook it all of with a cheer and wrapped his arm around the other.“Now, mopey topics aside, let’s go out and drink! That’s the consequences of the shit question and you’re paying for me, capiche?” He grinned brightly at the other. Pulling them away no matter how much they didn’t want to.

[avryujin-blog]

honesty hour.

this is honesty hour!—or, honesty week. for a whole seven days after reblogging this prompt, anyone can send a question to your muse, anonymous or not, and your muse must answer all questions with complete honesty. remember to send a question to everyone who reblogs this, and to send as many as you receive!

[avryujin-blog]

we’re on the tip of the iceberg—

                                      say hello to CHAOS.

                                                                       oh, and fuck that bitch death too.

[avryujin-blog]

ts. | how to train your human/dragon friend.

Dragons, to Ryujin, were harmless babies. Yes, harmless babies. After all, Ryujin’s rode, made friends, practically adopted one as his child, and had met many over the years of his wild life. The war he went through had led him to meeting a variety of them that had become more like his family than anything and anyone else he met in Death’s realm. He missed Daisy the most, though. The Nightmare Dragon had been someone he met since she was an egg, loved her even after she blasted his head off with her hellfire blasts of love. Plus, she was such a precious little thing with how she licked at him like an eager puppy ( although her tongue contained poison that exceed anything known in the living world ), tackled him when he came back to visit her ( even though she was as large as the academy ), and even tried to sing his favorite meme songs ( although the fire show alongside it ended up on him )! See, totally harmless baby. That aside, he really held no fear with dragons. In fact, he’d always loved dragons. And maybe his shit luck was horrible, but it did make his childhood dreams of meeting the creature true. The most important thing to know of through this long, drawn out monologue, though, was that he knew dragons and Daisy is the most precious thing in the entire world and no one could tell him otherwise ( she was his little baby, fuck you all ). And it’s exactly because of that, that Ryujin found himself meeting up with the academy’s resident dragon ( slash human ). Carrying a rather small looking sack that he swung carelessly about, he spotted said dragon/human and waved at him brightly. Skipping up to the other, he eagerly called out “Yo Sora! I got us some Git Gud shit goodies for us~!”

@avjabberwock

[avryujin-blog]

Ryujin had to admit, the academy held some wild souls. They livened things up, didn’t seem to be too much of a bore or have any stick up their asses. And Ryujin didn’t end well with those who were anal about things, because Ryujin’s everything but perfect and clean cut. He’s a rank S mess and confident about that. Still, no one could live up to what insanity he had to deal with before. Thank God he didn’t have to deal with asshole loquats growing on some poor sap’s forehead because that was a trip. Still, knowing a fire extinguisher nicer and more gentlemanly than some he knew today was just...sad. That aside, tonight seemed to be a nice night. His roommate’s elsewhere, he’s on his free bed and living the life by chugging some good ol’ alcohol and actually having peace for once in his life. Oh wait, never mind. He heard the loud voice of one of his newly made friends within this hellhole and gave a heavy sigh. Merely turning his head to the side, he raised an eyebrow at Kiyoji attempting to enter the room from the window. He knew he should have closed it, but he was so wary of his luck and knew that he’d rather it be open than broken. After a few more moments watching the other struggle, he finally got off of his lazy ass as he put down the bottle by the side of his bed carelessly. If it fell to the side, it wouldn’t matter since he drank enough for nothing to be able to be spilled out. “I should be feeling a sense of trepidation and bemoan about how my peaceful moment just got fucked, but frankly I’ve outgrown that stage.” He drawled, assisting Kiyoji. Looking at the gifts, he found himself amused by how ready the other was to bribe him. Did he really think he was that easy? Granted, Ryujin was a yes man more often than not, but he played the fool that accepted bribes easily because free gifts. He didn’t really need such things, not when he knew Death and who was more than willing to give him a nice bottle of sake made by some demon since a century ago. That was good shit, but all the kind of drinks he stashed away and were only meant for himself because it’d kill others.  “So, what kind of bullshit are we up to tonight? How fucked do you think we’ll get and would you like to bet how many times and how I’d die in the process?” He chirped, despite the morbid questions. But such a topic, of course, was simply normal for the man to talk about. 

Kiyoji & The Immortal Ojin’s Most Excellent Heroic Battle Adventures & Sometimes Totally Bogus Dirty Journeys

@avryujin

Kiyoji Takanashi needed to get drunk. Not faded, not buzzed, not tipsy—he needed a brain coma, and near vegetable blackout drunk state to accomplish tonight’s task. However he did not want to go it alone, and obviously there was only one other person who just might be fine with knocking on death’s door with him…

After all this guy kinda hung out with the Lady Styx herself.

So like the good responsible fool that he was, Kiyo had pre-planned this trip of drinking himself into oblivion down to the last detail. Enough Daiginjo sake to melt a human brain. Check. Ensuring the most straitlaced of the Academy’s faculty were all tucked safely in their beds. Check. And finally, confirmation via a quick peep in health services, that Nurse Doom (Killer of all fun) was not on duty or lovingly creepy polishing a Smith & Wesson in his office somewhere (though even if he had been, Kiyo wasn’t sure if a healing bullet would stop lady death herself, but he most certainly didn’t want find out if it could.).

Now he only had one more part of the plan to put in action.

Securing a ferry ride on the S.S. Undead…

“Hey Ojin! Gimme a hand here!” Swinging a leg awkwardly over Ryujin’s window ledge, he hoisted himself half way into the other student’s living space. The other half of clutched the nights gets, and some extras for bribery, just in case the old man was tempted to reject the brilliance of tonight’s little scheme. Ryujin’s doom room was thankfully on the first floor of the Maverick dorm, but that still didn’t make it easy to scale it when you had no “natural” ability to wall climb a damn thing. He probably should have collected a few abilities before hand but he didn’t want any rogue abilities messing up the plan.

[avryujin-blog]

Ryujin was sharper than most thought, under all that bravado of an idiot that drank and smoke and caused mayhem in all the ways he could ( may it be indirectly or not ). He noticed the sneer, the hate in Habaek’s eyes looking at his own form, the way that there’s some fucked up soul inside, an inner turmoil meant to ruin one from inside out. It took one to know one, and Ryujin’s adept in finding such people. But did he talk about it? Did he point it out? Try to figure the other out and give some opinions or support? No, it’s not really how they work. Perhaps if Habaek was another, a different person, Ryujin would be molded to the kind of man that gave support and help. However, their routine wasn’t painted as something so beautiful and emotional, nothing deep like that. No, Habaek and him were ruined beings that took their time to ignore such things with nonchalance. And so, Ryujin ignored such things in exchange of taking the pretty harsh words of Habaek ( which was a hit as light as a feather, in contrast to everything he’s dealt with ). “Oh it is. At this point, whatever I said have such a high chance of happening it ain’t even funny.” Was the frank response, grinning easily as if he’s talking about the weather. “Death doesn’t care, Death just wants her entertainment. As much as I am close to her, I’m still her favorite TV show to watch.” “And for a woman like her, my suffering’s the greatest entertainment she had.” It’s not only that, but Death’s a difficult concept to explain. Ryujin’s got a complicaated relationship with her but like how with Habaek he had a routine, and with her it was one of great complexities. He’ll bitch about her for as long as he could, speak of horrible she was, but he knew she cared. He knew Death cared for him, just that her form of caring was cruel. She loved him for his flaws and suffering, how broken he was, but she tried not to push him deeper down the abyss ( but she always failed, always ended up being his number one tormentor and she could never be sorry for that ).  “You’re definitely right on that. I got so much on my plate I could probably make a million of songs of all the shit I went through.” He lets loos a harsh bark of laughter, then he burned his throat from another gulp from the bottle in hand. And Ryujin had written a few. Back then, before he was whisked away to war, he made a few songs. He remembered an angel, soft pink locks and doe milky eyes who loved him dearly. Blind and only able to hear, he remembered her pretty and always wishing to understand him. And because he cared for her, he wrote a song and sang for her. One too personal, one too depressing, one of cacophony that grated his ears and led her to sob. But she wrapped her arms around him and promised him “I’ll always be here for you.” What a fat load of bullshit that was. But songs were much too personal, much like uncovering pieces of his soul. Taking up whatever shard he could get and putting it down to words. He hated to show that to the world. He didn’t want to reveal any piece of him unless it’s to someone he failed to close off from. He is broken, and even if he’s a failure at hiding it, let the world believe him to be the caricature he painted himself to be. “I’d rather not give bits of me away. I need those pieces. Maybe I can fix it.” Nonsensical, vague, but the truth. A bitter smile laced on his lips as he glanced at the other briefly. Shining blues, ones so bright, yet so dimmed down by the person it was entwined to. 

tie me to melodies

habaek’s fingers are long and chipped, scarred and vaguely bruising from the fights he incurs on himself and on others, the mad dash to pain he inflicts on the world around him, the way he slams himself against the pavement as though he confuses it for the sky. in some regards it makes playing the guitar on his lap easier, but in others ways, more difficult; calloused enough to numb him against the strings, but rigged enough to catch accidentally on others. not to mention the cramping, the aching, the soreness, the curling scabs, the way he’s sure time has forwarded itself on his hands, leaving the rest of him be, aging only them to ruin.

he sneers down at his own hands and hates them, hates the body they’re attached to, thinking for a moment of his mother’s hands, the smooth lines of her knuckles and fingertips unmarred by reality. she was a dreamthing, he’s certain of it now, nothing more than so much smoke and wish-fulfillment his father had concocted, and something in that is tragic and lonesome, something in that is horrific and heretical. if the vatican ever found out about the hyun powers, habaek wonders if they’d call him god or abomination. he already knows what the angels call him in his dreams, the way his blood drips from their swords.

he misses a note and scowls, tries to ignore the half-attempted compliment from his companion, the way they both know it’s not meant or important, the way they both know songs are working progresses and nothing else. he moves on from the stanza, twisting the chords into smaller notes, jumpy and jazzy and sad even in their allegro. he glances up at the other male with a wry tint to his lips, imagining him through the haze of smoke like just another one of his dreams, placing him in his own atmosphere instead of feeding himself into ryujin’s. it’s not as pleasant. he lets it go.

“is it all likely to fuck up though?” he frowns back down to his instrument and the way it hums and vibrates softly under his machinations. “like, since you and death tumble in the weeds and whatnot, is she likely to just kill anyone at your venue for sport or something?” sometimes he’s unsure whether ryujin’s moods are caused by his own trepidation with life or if there’s ever legitimate cause for concern. but then he chuckles. “what if you just wrote songs then? it’s not like you don’t have a deep enough well of pain and personal turmoil to draw from for material, is it?” maybe he was being an ass by asking this, but the curiosity was there regardless.

[avryujin-blog]

avsori‌:

( / she shakes her head, knowing that his statement is exactly the opposite. he may not want it, but the simple fact that ryujin’s remained alive, in more ways than the dictionary definition, is much more than a side character could truly wish for. ) you know that’s not fact. ( / she shrugs and hops off the bench, letting herself be guided along by him. ) your chances are probably greater than your moonshine’s. ( / she walks carefully down the stairs, with the rest of the panicked students. part of the building falls and she can see the fear of the student body rise in response, the rushing herd sweeping her away from her companion. ) oh, shit. ( / the bottle of moonshine drops to the floor, knocked out of her hands. so much for being luckier than ryujin. )

( // he pouts at her insistence, but lets it slide after throwing in one last quip ) say that to my shit life. ( // he grumbled at he much too true fact. because his luck to survive anything was always a guaranteed 100%. such was his sad, sad life. ) i hate how true that sounds and— ( //he’s interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. slowly, he looked down at the corpse of his beautiful moonshine and lets loose a heavy sigh. ) to be frank, i still think my luck’s more shit. it’s so fucking meta that it probably makes anyone i give my shit to for them to somehow fuck it up because we all know i just can’t have nice thing. ( //he looks up as if trying to plead to some higher being. ) end me. somebody.

[avryujin-blog]

hhb. | more broken than our landscape.

Even if the world’s gone down to shit, he thought that even such a depiction couldn’t match the inner turmoil that burst in him. It was strange, the idea that because he was more convoluted and twisted than the view of this horrid place had gave him that sense of ease that allowed him to face it with a calm front. This world’s literally gone ( going? Oops, he forgot ) through war and he could only think “This is fine.” God, he was turning into the dog in the middle of a fire meme ( but really, that summed up his life well ). But even so, other’s may be worse off than him. Or just as chill as him. Either way, whether they liked it or not he was going to grace them with their presence. Oh, and there he spotted a rather fun person to be with. With a grin too bright for their current predicament, he sashayed his way to Habaek with his trusty moonshine in hand. “Hey there Baek! Glad to see you, want some moonshine? Makes everything feel less fucked up I tell you.” He greeted the other, waving the bottle of alcohol in hand, but miraculously it remained fine. Perhaps he really did waste all his luck on this dumb moonshine of his.

@avhabaek

[avryujin-blog]

cjn. | shitty luck.

When Ryujin’s bored, he tends to go about doing either stupid shit or socialize. Usually he does stupid shit to socialize. Or he can go meet up with Death, but everyone’s so high strung with all the new world concept and how completely shit it was that he didn’t think anyone can deal with seeing his corpse anytime soon ( because he knows Death’s a mean bitch that would have him ‘knocked out’ for an hour for shits and giggles ). He’s also not really feeling the mood to deal with the common faces he meets up with in his time in 616, so he opted to meander about and go with the first one he saw. Fortunately for him, he did manage to find a poor sod to chill out with. With ease, he strode over to the other, grin wide and all nonchalant—a stark contrast to the post-apocalyptic looking background. But that was how he’s always been, an apathetic fellow that’s been through so much that this felt like child’s play. “Yo’ there kiddo’. How’s your life been in this shit rendition of Earth?”

@avjinx

[avryujin-blog]

avsori‌:

( / laughing at his comment, she shakes her head. ) never mind your side characters, worry about yourself. ( / she knows at least that much, they’re both privy (albeit in different ways) to how very indestructible ryujin is. though he’s not wrong about his terrible luck. ) you’re not going to ‘get fucked’, not permanently. ( / she takes the bottle and mimes putting it into exactly zero of the pockets she has on her. she’s dressed for the aesthetic, not for practicality; not even the apocalypse that’s happening now is going to ruin that, anyway. ) you sure about that? ( / the building they’re in starts vibrating, violent and urgent, and she laughs it off, like she knows he will too ) we should leave soon before your moonshine ( / she shakes the bottle at him. ) is what gets fucked.

( // he clicks his tongue, but her words were the bitter truth. ) yeah i’m like a lot more important to be given a fuck about. but ouch, painful. you know i hate living right? ( // it’s a rhetorical question, of course. and he watched as she held onto the bottle because they both know she had no pockets or the sort on her for that. still, more luck than him. )  listen, anyone’s luckier than my sorry ass. that’s fact. ( // he laughed with her, not a single sense of urgency between the two. this was simply normalcy at it’s finest. he notes the bottle in her hand and nodded. ) yeah, gotta’ protect my baby. ( // he tugged at her lightly to head out and find a way to at least protect his moonshine from doomsday. ) 

[avryujin-blog]

asj. | festering / blooming.

Ryujin hated having a heart. It’s a fragile little thing you see, worse than glass. It’s also just really high maintenance, with how much warmth and people it craved for to fill its contents because oneself was never enough. The heart is despicable, weak and at the core of every living being. It’s so susceptible to pain, and even if he made up walls upon walls, there was always something piercing through. He wanted to tear it out, crush it, end the pain and all his sufferings. Because this heart of his was so broken, so pitifully weak, and there’s no surgery that could fix it back up. But he’s stuck with it. Stuck with this blasted thing to the end of his life ( for all eternity ). And he hated it so much because, because, because— He spots a figure growing to be so familiar. Logic decreed that he must turn away, that he got to go. A monster spoke how much of a loser he was, to want to meet this man that shared a visage with the figure he called his little brother. A shadow laughed at his own set up for tragedy. A ghost cried for him to stop the darkness to bombard it with how bad this would all end. Whispers in his head, and he saw faces of old, of his time, crowded around the man. All a figment of his imagination. But his heart, it beats. And with each beat was a step. Coming from behind, he lets himself ignore all the horrors that danced in his sight, his hearing, all his abused senses. Instead, he brings up his arms to wound the other, resting his head naturally on the man’s shoulder as he brightly grinned and cooed “Guess who~?” His heart, it sings. And his mind, it weeps. They know the story, but the heart had always been selfish for the present.

@avxsungjin