kirvu

[kirvu]

hanging by a loose thread.

kureon​:

                                                                           ( continued. )

“How dare you.” He enters the club, dressed with the same clothes that he wore inside his own house, where he took the call of the bartender that concluded that Zero was too stoned to even think; Joonmyeon has his eyes red, his nails growing by the tips of his fingers, the anger is visible in the glare that he’s throwing at the other, his hair was not in the nice ebony shade but in the mahogany that compresses the insipid facade that his skin emits. “How dare you tell Kris where my wife is? I fucking trusted you.”

He was with Baekhyun when he received the call, the third call that they got the night Joohyun was kidnapped while he was working out—first was from Kris, second was from the bartender, and third was from the former male, and he knew that he was never really patient in handling events as such, but he took his pride with him as soon as he stomps forward, fingers gripping the collar of Zero’s plaid shirt. “I know you’re selfish. I know you’d do whatever you can to kill everyone in your sight. But Kris was never your fight, Zero. Kris is mine, and your job was to protect my queen.” Voice stern, the dangerous tone that everyone loathed and feared, Suho is soon eating the gentleness that Joonmyeon had.

How dare he try to get a conversation with his nemesis?

How dare he take a time off from prioritizing the safety of his wife, and the child that she will soon bear?

How dare he act like he is an innocent victim of the story, when he knew—Suho knows that Zero isn’t as stupid as how he was deemed to be, but now, maybe, just maybe, he was wrong from the start. Apparently, the drink that the other took had a pill that could spill anything that the interrogator asks of him; Kris was the one asking the questions, Zero never failed to answer him.

And now he has to feel Suho’s wrath, before Kris could.

“She’s taken away from me.” The smashing of the bottles of vodka, beer, and costly wines echoes through the bar. Everyone stopped dancing; the man behind the stereo, in-charge of the music paused in his own shameful—sex filled tracks, Suho pushed Zero over the counter table, manhandling him over to the elongated bar, fingers clutched upon the expanse of his neck, nails digging on his skin, possibly drawing blood, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling the pain around his chest.

Joohyun was taken away from him because of the man who had been too selfish for his own good. If he could have told him how Kris wanted to talk, and then maybe, they could have calculated his move. But Kris knew them too well, and he knew how Zero had always preferred working alone.

Baekhyun tries stopping him but there’s no one that could stop a King from killing unless faced with his innocent Queen.

“If anything happens to Joohyun, I swear to every single man in this earth—”Now his fingers, index and thumb are pressed along his jaw, possibly cracking a bone between his ear and his neck, before throwing him over to the other side of the bar, his body smashing the stereo, causing the people to scatter around them, running, screaming, trying to find a way out of the mess that he created. Suho had always been merciless, and he will do anything to protect his family.

“I will kill you.”.

the club’s atmosphere fills him with a great sense of annoyance and frustration. obtrusive chatter, the invasive blare of music threading between his thoughts and calling forth the headache that stretches across the temples of his forehead. he wanted nothing more than to withdraw himself from his surroundings, but both his mind and body failed to cooperate with his requests whenever he rose from his seat to leave, and it was all thanks to the pill that dissolved in his drink an hour ago. zero had unknowingly been drugged by a fragment of the past. he doesn’t remember much, but he knows that kris wu had something to do with the embarrassingly incoherent state that he remains stuck in.

what comes next in zero’s life is an unrelenting grasp at the collar of his shirt. kim joonmyeon. he was surprised, but bewildered, wonders what they’re doing here, but his curiosity dwindles once he receives the answer to his question when they had begun to speak. an authoritative voice thickened with what seems to be disdained anger, or so, he presumes. with whatever strength he has left, he draws his arm off the counter and entraps their wrist in between his now-enclosed fists. regardless of whether he and joonmyeon or friends or not, he hates it when other’s invade his personal space. his first  intention was to forcibly pry them off his persons, however, he sets that option to the side and saves it for later. “what the fuck are you talking about?” and irritation is replaced by the inevitable need to salve the confusion festering beneath his skin. he knows that he does not have a bone to pick with kris, knows that the joonmyeon is the one whom wishes to end the elder’s life. as for joohyun, he continued to stand by her side and protect her, fight for her when danger strikes. 

or so he thinks.

”she wa—” he was stopped before he could continue, shoved against the counter top only seconds after everyone stopped what they were doing and focused their attention on the two immortals. the raucousness of his persons smashed against the surface pervaded through the room, the impact hard enough to smash the counter in two, marble slowly cracking beneath his spine. pain weaves through his nerves, immobilizes him for a good twenty seconds, before he realizes where he is and what’s going on. when zero tries to stand, gravity forces him back down. the other’s nails digging into his flesh, streaks of crimson tracing down his porcelain-complexion, blood drawn from the small cuts now found on his neck. 

the embarrassment, the shame, and the disappointment. he can feel joonmyeon’s pain and suffering through each violent action that transgressed, his body becoming a myriad of cuts and bruises as he undergoes the king’s immutable wrath. he does not understand love, does not know what it’s like to be in love, but he does understand what it’s like to lose someone precious to him. maybe that’s why his mind tells him to remain still and accept whatever comes to him. after all, it was technically his fault for what happened to joohyun. as he’s thrown across the room, his body collides with the stero system, electric currents circulating around the crash sight, fire drawn from the light that comes crashing down after the brute impact. he’s bleeding, the decorative color of his blood adds a splash of color to the dark floorboard underneath him. zero groans, maneuvers his arm beneath his body and he struggles to do whatever he can to push himself up and onto his feet, but his balance is off, and it was all thanks to that damn drug and joonmyeon. 

multifarious trails of crimson trace down his features, each drawn from the wounds found on his cranium, but concealed beneath his hair. don’t be fucking weak, he hears his mentor’s voice echo in his mind. when he was younger, he had trained until he collapsed, until he could move no more. rather than being helped, he was yelled at and attacked until he rose from the ground and fought. this was different. today was different. he was completely and utterly helpless, his chest rising and falling in an attempt to draw oxygen into his lungs. zero couldn’t fight tonight, that much was obvious. 

the small fire alerts the sprinklers, heavy piercing shafts of water that greeted the room and caused the flames to die down whilst encouraging the silence. he’s staring at joonmyeon with half-hooded eyes, caught amidst consciousness and unconscious as the numbness keeps him from doing anything other than blinking and breathing. “…save yourself the time and kill me now,” spills out of his mouth in a breathless whisper, blood pools his mouth and he spits it onto the floor. the taste of sweet sanguine still lingers on his tongue and feeds his lust to drink. zero shuts his eyes for a prolonged second. he may not be in his right state of mind, but he was conspicuous enough to know that he was not afraid of what the future has in store for him. if he dies, then he’ll join his parents. 

and that would be a dream come true.

[kirvu]

thvgxng:

He didn’t know what to say or what to do. Last time, he knew that Baekhyun was a vampire hunter but mixture of a vampire. He always knew his life were at risks if he bumped into any of the vampire hunters. He can either run for his life, feared, or either be dead already. But when Baekhyun had a gun to the their head but he didn’t shoot, and Alexander didn’t know why. Did something caught him off guard? Whatever it was, he was thankful that he was not dead. Alexander admitted it, he does fear death but to a certain degree. Now he is looking straight in the eye of the hunter, wondering what’s going to happen next. “Not enough?” He asked a bit more flatly then he intended. “No… But the last time you did, you nearly try to kill me. But are you going to kill me now?” His eyes still fixing on the other’s, his eyes had not move anywhere and only in front of him, while his expression turned into blank; not showing any emotions, like neutral facial expression.

it was an unfortunate encounter with a minuscule fragment of the past. he knew nothing of alexander, cared little to do research. he mulled over their first meeting in his mind, memorized the look in their eyes when his forefinger lingered over the trigger, but was later replaced with blatant confusion when he lowered his firearm and left. boxian couldn’t afford another mark on his records. if the hunter association discovered that he killed without a reason, he wouldn’t receive a warning. he’d be punished. they’ve went easy on him in the past, but that was simply because his parents were once the head of the organization. but not anymore. hi days of special treatment were over. boxian hates being tied down by rules and regulations, and yet, there was not much that could be done. he’s restricting himself, holding himself back, and waiting for them to finish speaking. young, foolish, and naive. those were the three words that came to mind, swimming through the torrent of thoughts floating freely amidst his subconscious. he tuts beneath his break, emotions and feelings concealed behind stoic composure. he doesn’t understand people like alexander, but then again, he doesn’t have any reason to. “no.” he replies, neither too slow, nor too quick. tone laced with neutral apathy, he’s used to expressing himself poorly. “if i wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

[kirvu]

The True King;

kureon​:

It’s not easy to hide when other’s are bound to seek. Suho and his subordinates were always on the run, placing his son in the line of throne as he tries to put his just on the line. He doesn’t like failing, past or present, especially for the future to come at ease, he has to sacrifice. Sacrifice means he has no choice but to leave his people at the brim, he has to leave Joohyun, he has to leave his family, but he has to make sure that the statistical value of them winning is bigger than losing. Ying is on the lose, and Ying is a psycho killer on the run. 

Hide and seek isn’t easy, while he’s hiding in the mystery of his so-called death, Suho mustered the courage and the anticipation of seeking for his colleagues, and one of those is Byun Zero; one of the most monstrous vampires that ever came to live, a half-blood, but as strong as a royal. He’s hiding by the alley, a shadow emits his own figure at the distance, catching the glimpse of the man that he wanted to pursue, but silence reigns within him, and silence reigns as soon as the man stopped by the small opening of the dumpster— knowing too well who he was. “Long time, Zero.“ 

The King, he was called, and a King he will remain to be. With his lithe fingers tugging his black hoodie by his shoulders, he shows himself. He’s known for his kind personality, not entirely fit for a King to have but there he was, emitting a stern aura, his eyes dark and his lips pursed to a thin line. Matters are getting serious, and he has no time to dwell upon joking. Time is ticking, lives are set to decrease, and it’s up to them to face the reality that it’s not getting better. “Let’s get to the point. I need your help.”

( FLASHBACK ) 

             the king is dead. 

                                                long live the king.

hundreds to thousands of vampires were rounded together; those fortunate were given a seat in the funeral home, whereas those less fortunate were forced to stand outside and watch the memorial  off a mountainous monitory. they were there to mourn the loss of their beloved king, kim joonmyeon. boxian, former bodyguard and close acquaintance of the royal family, had been invited to the funeral. he was seated in the vip section along with the king’s family and his younger brother, baekhyun. some were crying, some were whaling, some were shocked, and some were in denial. he and joohyun were the only exception, but the only difference between them was that he wasn’t crumbling as much as she was on the inside.

services lasted an hour, perhaps two, before everyone was dismissed from the morgue. he ordered his brother to stay behind with the royal’s children, keep an eye on them in case something were to happened. he, on the other hand, followed joohyun. stayed beside her, guarded her until she told him that she’d like to pay her respects to her husband alone. boxian agreed, but stood outdoor the room. 

that’s when she lost it, that’s when she broke down. 

                                                                                                       ( END ) 

three years have passed since then, three years spent looking into the king’s untimely death. it took him awhile, but once he pieced everything together, he’d come to the conclusion that joonmyeon isn’t dead. 

he’s alive. 

boxian threads his fingers through his hair, brushes back his overgrown fringe as he ambled down the sidewalk. he had just return from a mission, physically and mentally exhausted after a long day. all he wanted to do was return home and wash away the scent of blood, for each whiff only increased his desire to drink, but the thought is suppressed when he senses something, someone. his head turns toward the right, gaze ensnared over figure that reveals themselves behind the shadows. 

“suho.”

and he doesn’t say anymore more than their name, wasn’t as shocked and bewildered as others would have been if they were in his position. he stands with his hands inside his pockets, expression as cold as the brisk summer breeze. boxian wasn’t the least bit surprised. the elder wouldn’t have gone out of their way to find him if they didn’t need something, especially after feigning their death. his tongue grazes across his lower lip, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed. he responds with a simple, “with what?”

[kirvu]

ximpvlsive:

He must be stupid, seems completely oblivious and assumes that her little actions indicate that the world revolves around his own emotions. Hana doesn’t care about that, doesn’t care too much about him either. Sure, she might have helped and lend a hand in the past many months ago but that’s nothing. She’s surprised she even manage to recall his name after all this time as well, a little unusual but it doesn’t bother her all that much.

There’s a laugh emitting out, display of amusement that causes her nose to scrunch up afterwards. Hana learned that, the hard way. From her previous relationship, the numerous times she sacrificed things that meant value all to fix something. Repair a relationship that one didn’t care about, including her entirely. It’s about being equal, considering everyone’s feelings was too challenging she would never do that to herself. Not again, never.

❝Oh - oh you think I’m going to do that whole help you out bullshit again.❞ She’s carelessly talk out loud, directly to this male she met one time. And somehow she encountered a second time around. People call this faith but it’s an unexpected encounter that happened through timing. ❝I don’t do that anymore - you know how pitiful that is?❞ Hana’s teeth graze over the surface of her tongue, the tip of the pink muscle sticking out. Taunting and teasing, she’s childish and he should know this easily by now.

there’s comfort found in believing that he is the most damaged, the most hurt, and the most lost. stoic faces, mundane lives, none of is seen when he ambles down the restless streets of seoul, gaze trained ahead and hands sheltered inside his pockets. if he crossed paths with someone, he’d simply step to the side and continue down the cobblestone path. today, however, was different. he had ran into an old acquaintance along the way, and ended up spending more time with her than expected. 

a flicker of irritation crosses his features when she laughs, but he stands there and pretends not to be offended. hana knew just how to frustrate him, her snarky behavior does nothing more than ignite the flames of rage and rancor within him. sometimes he must restrict himself when he’s around her, hold himself back before he does something he’d regret in the future. boxian closes his eyes, counts down from three in his mind as his fingers slowly furl into a clenched fist, blunt nails digging into his skin, but not enough to draw blood from beneath layers of flesh.  

“i never asked for your help. i never wanted it.” he doesn’t know the meaning of censorship, doesn’t know if and when things are appropriate to be said. hostility runs through his veins. it’s become apart of him. irritable amidst his ( unwanted ) meting with the female, he tears his gaze away from hers and tuts beneath his breath. he’s never met a woman as hard headed and stubborn as her, but then again, he sometimes sees her as a female version of himself. his next action is immature, resembles something a child would do when receiving a lecture from their parents; he rolls his eyes, shrugs his shoulders and does what he should have done when he met her. the immortal excuses himself from the conversation, passes her persons, and resumes his previous intentions; returning home.

[kirvu]

thousands of words left unsaid, thoughts and feelings concealed behind immutable indifference. if not for his fractured ribs and aching limbs, he would have pursued the younger male, dragged them back by force ( if needed ), and lectured them for their asinine decisions. instead, he was forced to remain seated and watch as they fade into the shadows. boxian was upset with himself because he let this happen. he let baekhyun slip through his fingers and throw himself into battle. not just any battle, but a battle against eight hunters. eight hunters who tore him to shreds, who were responsible for the myriad of bruises, cuts, and wounds scattered across his body. it wasn’t attractive. he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he looks like. 

the most painful thing about waiting for someone is not knowing when they’ll return. if they’ll return. it has been exactly one hour since baekhyun left, and the other has yet to return. he was beginning to grow anxious, thoughts of his brother’s possible death have already begun to fill his mind. boxian is just seconds away from suppressing the pain, but the notion disappears when he sees the younger enter the room. he inhales a sharp intake of air, oxygen piercing through his lungs as his eyes scan the onslaught of cuts and wounds spread across bruised and tattered breath. the hunter was horrified, rendered silent even when his alias is muttered. he was speechless because he didn’t know what to say, what to do. he could only stare. 

”baekhyun,” spills out of his mouth just seconds after he’d broken from his trace, lower lip quivering as if he were afraid. he flattens his palm against the ground, pressure increased as he forced himself up from the seated position. pain immediately weaves through his system, urges him to sit, but he doesn’t listen. he never fucking does. boxian curls an arm around his torso and begins to walk over to his brother, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the pavement as he drags himself toward them. his ribs were acting up against, earns a silenced grimace from the hunter, however, he endures it all, focuses primarily on the other. “you’re so fucking stubborn,” he bates, lethargic venom seething through his tone. “i told you not to go. i told you to fucking stay, and what do you do? you leave.” by now, he’s already kneeling down in front of them, slips one of his arms around their frame and pulls them up. boxian maneuvers himself in front of the younger, lurches forward and hauls them onto his back.

”you never fucking listen to me.”

l’appel du vide

To say he was extremely stubborn wouldn’t even start to cover the traits stained over his personality, but then again, it was not an option to leave his brother to be caught, especially when the scent of blood was still too strong and dissipated into thin air to ignore and if there was something he was perfectly aware of, was that those assholes following their steps were good trackers. However, his brother’s words did linger within the depths of his mind once a shadow of his being crossed the enemy’s path–he was indeed walking into a snake’s lair and death would most likely be waiting for him …  but then again, Baekhyun was not stupid to go down so easily. The will carried over his shoulders, the one will to protect the only one left within the ground of a doomed Earth was stronger than any pain that was to pierce through his flesh.

It didn’t quite take long before eight figures had the vampire pressed against a wall, thankfully, enough blocks away from where he had left his brother. It in indeed insane to go against eight hunters, but at least he had to try. The first shot came to scrape over the higher end of his left shoulder, earning something like a groan from thin pair of lips, a series of others following right after–some were able to pierce through his leg, pelvis and any possible spot open through his fast moves. At times like these he thanked God for the accelerated speed granted to his species, allowing three out of eight to easy fall limp to the cold hard floor under his feet, leaving yet another five to be dealt with. The blood rushing through a pale flesh came from every single spot pierced by special bullets or even swords that reached through him, but the psychotic grin painted over his features probably had the group taken aback. It ached, every single fiber of his anatomy ached under the burning acid spreading through his insides, yet, he wasn’t going to give up. Not until he was done for.

It all happened too fast … until he was left facing the last of the hunters still standing, strings of blood crawling paths down along the male’s chin, the once white shirt now stained to a deep coloration of blood as holes were carved through his flesh. His brother was right, he was indeed getting himself killed, but at least it meant one of them would survive. There was no strength left, feet dragging along the surface of the ground until inches were all that separated the both of them, a gun pointed to the left side of his chest–his heart. If the trigger was pulled, he would be done for. Words were mumbled in between from the enemy’s mouth, something about how his race would be annihilated one by one, and how they would definitely find his brother. But nails digging through the man’s throat interrupted the bullshit he spoke of, blood soon rushing down along Baekyun’s slender fingers before the body could be thrown away. What he didn’t realize though was the shot that had pierced through the middle of his torso.

How was it that he made it back to where he had left his brother was still a mystery, but all he knew was that his body has clashed against the old structure as soon as he stepped into the room, palms pressed over a single spot to the center of his chest before a breathy, single word could flow through bloody pair of lips, his clothing ripped as blood stained any possible inch of his being. “Ze … Zero …” If he was still alive, he wasn’t sure of it himself.  And so everything went black. 

[kirvu]

( sms; fratello ) Go to hell, thanks.

( ; one message, followed by another, then another. he has already begun to question joonmyeon’s sanity, wonders what goes through their mind when they text him. he’s lost all vice to respond, straightened his spine from the slumped posture and grabs his phone, but not to read or respond. no, this time, he flips it over, pops the back off, and detaches the battery, setting it off to the side. sound diminished, screen fades into hallow black. he places his phone down ( for the nth time ) beside the battery, before pushing himself back and rises from his seat on the chair. turning toward his bed, he proceeds toward it and drops himself down onto the mattress; it’s time to ease his mind from the thoughts of a restless day. )

[kirvu]

( sms; fratello ) HOLY FUC-- THAT'S FUCK. FOR JOOHYUN.

( ; a long, exasperated sigh was drawn from his lungs when he received a second message after the previous one had been sent. he doesn’t need to check to know who it was from, to know what it says. once again, he reaches for his phone, unlocks it without glancing the preview, and simultaneously types out a response as he reads. ) 

( sms: royal pain ) I’m going to forward that message to Joohhyun. 

( ; and he doesn’t say anything more, he doesn’t need to. joonmyeon, albeit his prestigious title as the king, is - and always will be - nothing more than a mere child in his eyes. sure, he respects them but he’ll never say that to their face, knowing that they’ll hold it against him until the end of time. he places his phone down onto the surface of his desk, sets his documents off to the side, and leans back against the chair. he’s tired from all the assignments and mission he’s been taking on. each day consisted of work, work, and more work. brushing his palm over perfectly polished locks of ebony, he closes his eyes, easing them from the toned down lighting in his room. )

[kirvu]

20-25

30 Uncommon Character Development Questions 

&& — here, accepting 

20. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why? 

Hunters must abide with the rules and regulations devised by both the Hunter Association and Vampire Society, simple as that. If Boxian were to overturn their guidelines and act on his own consent ( which has happened once or twice in the past ), then he’d have no other choice than to accept whatever punishment they have in store for him; the severity of said punishment varies on the rule that had been broken. However, if he were granted permission to do as he’d like and kill whomever he pleases, then he choose Shizuka Hio, a prestigious pureblood vampire whom had sank her fangs into his neck, turned him into a vampire, and murdered his parents. 

His hatred toward her has grown stronger for days on end. Each waking moment he spends doing nothing, he comes up with different strategies and tactics he can use against her. He has thought of many ways to hurt her, to harm her, and to torture her - physically, mentally, and emotionally - until she pleas for mercy, begs for forgiveness. Boxian will eventually obey, but only when she stops struggling, when her body falls limp and she closes her eyes, when her final breath has been taken and she slowly fades into bleak nothingness. He’ll leave her be, watch her body decompose in her own pool of blood, before he lights a match and sets her remains on fire. He won’t leave, not until he knows for a fact that she’s dead. 

21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why? 

First wish: An alteration of the past.

Boxian’s love for his family is as strong as his hatred toward vampires, so there’s no doubt that an alteration of the past would be the first wish on his list. If he had known that Shizuka was planning an attack on the Byun household, he would have trained for days, months, years - just to prepare himself for the date of the scheduled attacked, and once she appeared at his doorstep, he would have sprung into action and killed her right there and then. Maybe then, he wouldn’t be living his life in solitude. He’d be able to return home to his family after a long, excruciating day at work. His mother would be in the kitchen, preparing supper; his father would be in the living room, catching up on the latest novel he’s been reading, and his brother would be in the bedroom, doing who-knows-what. At dinnertime, they’d be able to sit around the table and share a night full of laughter and love with each other.

That’s what he wants, that’s what he needs.

Second wish: Humanity. 

To be categorized as a vampire burns him, burns him right down to the core. Boxian hates vampires. Nothing more, nothing less. He wants to be able to return to a time where he was once considered to be more of a man, and less of a monster, but what’s done is done. He cannot change fate, he cannot change who is is - what he is. 

Third wish: Shizuka Hio’s death. 

Reasoning could be found above. 

22. Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone? 

No, he doesn’t, simply because his trust has been tarnished at a young age. 

It all began when Boxian’s mentor gave him his first lesson. He was seated by a tree, spine pressed to the flat of the bark as he skimmed over the notes he’d taken earlier that day, but stopped only when he heard muffled sobs in the background. Curious as ever, he set his notebook to the side, headed toward the source, and found a woman crying. He stayed by her side for a good twenty minutes, caressed her back, and assured her that everything will be alright. Boxian genuinely cared for the stranger, thought that she meant no harm, but was fooled. She attacked, his mentor stepped in, and consecutively lost an eye. 

Three years later, he and his younger brother were returning home after a long day and encountered another woman crying ( Shizuka Hio ). Baekhyun wanted to go and comfort her, but Boxian told him not to, as their seemed to be something peculiar about her. One week later, the woman appeared at their doorstep, the night ended in blood and gore. He learned that Baekhyun had gone against his instructions and ‘befriended’ her. 

23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart? 

He doesn’t  necessarily prefer either, but if he were forced to choose between the two, then he would choose romance. In his opinion, affection doesn’t mean a thing if comes from someone he doesn’t love and care about. If he were to be hugged by a stranger, he’d feel uncomfortable ( would probably shove them before they could do so ), however, if he were to be hugged by the person he loves, it’d be the complete opposite. 

Ways to his heart: 

Time, patience, and understanding: Someone who is able to oversee his flaws and imperfections, someone who is willing to stand by his side and support him despite his tough exterior. 

Persistence: Boxian is a complex man, need I say more? If he says one thing, he means another. ( i.e. — if he says “just leave,” he actually means, “please stay” ), so this person must be able to see past this and act accordingly to what he implies he doesn’t want. Persist until he gives in, because he eventually will. 

+ Bonus: Those who know him personally know that he doesn’t smile / laugh easily. If you can make him do this, you’re someone special to him.

24. Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why? 

Shizuka Hio, and again, the reasoning is mentioned above. 

25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks? 

No, he doesn’t.

According to yoruv, he has a kink for killing vampires.

[kirvu]

( sms; fratello ) You know. I never really know where heaven is... until you came along and showed me that heaven is real. Heaven is a place, here on earth, with you.

( ; it’s the distant buzzing of his phone that draws his attention away from the documents in hand and he glances over at the message that appeared on the screen. though he was only shown a preview, the first few words have him cringing. he fancies the notion of removing the battery right there and then, but he didn’t. instead, he reaches for his phone, thumb swiping across the screen before he reads the message in his mind. a short, arid, ‘gross’ leaks from his mouth at the thought of the elder seeing him as something more than just friends sickens him, especially when the they’re already married. typing up a response, he sets his phone down onto the side when finished, turns his head toward the papers once more, and picks up where he had left off. ) 

( sms: royal pain ) Fuck off, twink. 

[kirvu]

Boxian did not need to see them to know that they’re there; did not need to hear them to know that they’re near. He has spent decades tracking down vampires, chasing after them, and assassinating them when he received word from the Hunter Society. Remorseful? Not even in the very least. He loathes them, loathes them more than he loathes himself. So when he realized that one has been watching him from afar, his response was anything but warm and inviting. His head turns toward their direction, onyx hued irises flickering over their sharp features in something akin to that of irritation and frustration. If he were still that foolish young boy he once was, he would have ended their life right there and then. 

When the younger steps closer and shorten the distance between them, he appraises them with his gaze-half lidded, fingers slowly curling into a loose fist. “What the fuck are you looking at?” His eyes level over theirs, memories of their previous encounter flashes through his system, thought of the pained expression that had overturned over their countenance amuses him. He licks his lips, tongue grazing over soft, pale cushions as they tease the possibility of a smirk. Boxian inquires, “How’s your hand, vampire?”

—Damien was surprised by how quick the boy sensed his presence. The norm was he had to get all up at his victim’s face for him to get acknowledged, or sometimes call out for their attention. Another strange trait he noticed from the boy was why he didn’t try to escape when he knew that death was just a few meters away from him. Damien could at least tell the boy knew he can easily die in the snap of a finger, but he refused to crumple at the presence of such masculinity and superiority.

He took a few steps closer to the latter, eyes narrowing as his suspicion escalated.  Looking at the boy this close, he got a chance to study his facial expression, and Damien could swear the boy looked like he was challenging the vampire, as if he was calling the creature for a fight.

[kirvu]

He did not move from his spot, kept the female secured against his chest as the pads of his fingers press themselves against the contours of her cheek to keep her from making a single sound. His back is pressed to the flat of the wall, gaze remains ensnared over the crack of light sifting through the illuminated alleyway. Undeterred by the sounds of footsteps rising in volume and intensity, he prepares himself for whatever may jump out at them attack, but that doesn’t come. It never does. 

Hearing his secret name on the vampires’ lips startles Boxian into caution. He is sure that they had caught a glimpse of him when the woman disappeared from plain sight, knowing that they must find him if they want to find her. He glances at the at her from the corner of his eye, distinguishing fear apart from confusion, and somewhere in between he sees a twinge of curiosity flickering across her features. “I’ll explain later.” His voice is hushed, his answer is short, and he sounds as if he’s irked. “For now, just do as I say and follow my lead. I won’t hurt you.” Of course he wasn’t going to harm her. If he wanted to, he would have already done it by now. Keeping an arm around her waist for a second longer, he helps her stand, before said limb returns to its side. “Come on.” 

      She did as she was told, keeping her mouth shut, still not knowing what was happening around her and the strange male. Everything felt odd to her, the male’s hand pressed his hand up against her mouth, and she wanted to scream out. However, she felt as if it was best not to, perhaps the strange male had the best intentions. One moment became another, the footsteps grew louder, but softer also. Voices were heard, the voices talked of her, and where she could possibly be located at the moment. Her ears caught everything, as horror washed over her face, had someone been stalking her? She made sure to go out past midnight, knowing no one would be around to see her, but she was wrong. 

Not expecting for anything else to happen to the two, she tries to take a few steps away from the male, although he made haste moments, and she found herself soon sitting down beside a dumpster with the male right behind her. “What’s happening?” She spoke out, remembering to be quiet, thinking she won’t receive an answer from him.  

[kirvu]

Most of us are imprisoned by something. We’re living in darkness until something flips on the switch.

Wynonna Judd (via takeshies)

[kirvu]

[kirvu]

Whispers, "Puta."

( ; a flicker of curiosity clouds his features when the female opens her mouth to speak, but the spirit disappears and is soon replaced with confusion as he tries to make sense of the supposed term she had thrown at him. the language was foreign to his ears, fails to awaken the neural interstices deep within his mind. she’s doing this on purpose, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to understand. long lashes flutter shut as a breath of co2 is drawn from his lungs and elicits past pale, thin lips. he turns his head to face her, eyes narrowed once their gazes meet. ) ... ( ; he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know how to respond. he is not a native spanish speaker; knows little to nothing of the language. unwilling to give her the satisfaction of receiving the last word, he retaliates, and when he does, his tone is bathed in facile indifference. ) Fucking excuse you.

[kirvu]

“I won’t let you be on your own, not when you’re like this.”

REACTION MEME: Bruised and Broken Version 

&& — here, accepting

“Fuck,” spills out of his mouth upon realization that the blood lust was beginning to seize control of both his mind and soul. He’s slumped against the wall in his bathroom, chest rising and falling in a useless attempt to draw oxygen into his burning lungs, however, each attempt was no better than the last. It was not air that he needed, but blood. He turns his head toward the pills spilling out of the small, black case, gaze enraptured by the serial number engraved across each capsule. BL-XXV. Blood tablets; created to serve as the salve over vampires’ unquenchable thirst. He had started with one, then two, and finally, three, though it seemed as if no amount was enough to satisfy his cravings. 

Luhan’s expression darkens, vexation flourishes at the sight of the inconsequential tablets. Fingers slowly curling and unfurling, before he clenches his hand and smashes his fist against the case, its contents demolished beneath imposing strength. He tips his head back until it comes in contact with the wall, long lashes fluttering shut as the distant scent of blood slowly pollinates the air. When he broke the case, its remains dug into his skin and cut him; that much was expected, but he paid no heed to the pain as it lanced down the nerves of his arm. 

Then his attention trails toward the bathroom entrance, and he sees his brother standing there, out of breath as they stare at him in something akin to that of concern and annoyance. Baekhyun is the last person he wants to see, especially because they were the reasoning behind his turning. “Go away.” 

But Baekhyun simply remains where he is, proceeds toward them after seconds and kneels down beside them. “I asked you to leave, not to come near me,” he sharply spat, tone dripping in lethargic venom as his impassive gaze tears through the younger. “Fucking get out, Baekhyun. I don’t have time to waste to waste with you.”

”I won’t let you be on your own, not when you’re like this.” 

Oh, but composure and resistance fails to keep him together as he stretches an arm toward the other, grasping them by the collar of their shirt. Luhan has no control over his actions when he’s like this, when his spirit disappears and is replaced by the bloodthirsty beast he’s tried to contain for years. “You’re annoying.” He separates the short distance between them when he pulls the other closer, grimacing at the pain that shoots down his spine, but it wasn’t enough to deter him from his original intentions. “So, fucking annoying.” And he drags his lips against their neck, tongue darting out as it grazes across the naked flesh; the taste wasn’t pleasing - salty - but the taste that will soon grace through his system will be worthwhile. He tightens his grip of their shirt as fangs extract from his teeth and tears through multiple layers of skin and flesh, in search of the vein that he’ll dine upon.

Tonight, he’s a sinner.

[kirvu]

“What happened to your face?”

REACTION MEME: Bruised and Broken Version 

&& — here, accepting

He stares at his reflection in the mirror, palms pressed to the flat of the marble counter top. His face has become a myriad of cuts and bruises after an unfortunate encounter with a fragment of the past. Warm blood traces down from the wounds slashed across the temple of his forehead and cheek, the corner of his lip busted, just barely swollen along the seams. It wasn’t a pretty sight, to be battered as so. Luhan reaches for the gauze found inside the first aid kit and holds it under the faucet, before he turns the novel and allowed warm water to soak up the material. He never liked cleaning his wounds, but if he didn’t do it, no one wound. He presses it down against the opening of the cut, gingerly swipes it along the trail of blood, and repeats it for the others located across the expanse of his countenance. Next, he - with careful, attentive hands - spreads an antibiotic cream over the wound and conceals each one behind a band aid. 

One step, followed by another. Luhan descends down the grand staircase in his home, pads of his fingers brushing along the baluster in a subconscious gesture as he progresses to the living room. It He wasn’t just suffering from the pain weaving through the nerves of his face, but also from the pain stretched along his temples, the pounding sensation from the headache he received was irritable. 

When he reaches the final step, the doorbell rings. He wasn’t excepting a visitor, especially at this time of the day, so to say he wasn’t irritated would be nothing short of a lie. Nimble fingers grace through his blonde tresses as he opens the front door with his free hand, eyes trained ahead at the lanky male who stands before him. 

Oh Sehun. 

“What happened to your face?” 

Expectation led to the irritable sigh that he gives, shoulders slump as his hand trails down the slope of his head and relocates itself along the nape of his neck. He was tired, even more since he had just returned home after a long, exasperating day. “None of your business,” he voices out, before he opens his eyes to meet their gaze. “It’s nine o’clock at night, what the hell do you want, Sehun?”

[kirvu]

Annoyance comes in the form of a sigh, elicits past pale lips and spills into the atmosphere above. It isn’t often that he’d lose his sense of awareness and collide with a pedestrian on the streets, however today seemed to be an exception. His head turns toward the other’s direction, exasperation battles the need to remind them to watch where they’re going in a cruel, lethargic tone, but the desire to do so vanishes at the appearance that stands tall before him. Alexander. Last time they had seen each other, Boxian smashed the barrel of his gun against their forehead and threatened to shoot, but hadn’t. Disgusted by the scent of death that surrounds them, he tuts beneath his breath. “Not long enough.” His gaze clashes with the younger’s when he raises his chin, having to strain his neck in order to meet their eyes. “Do I need a reason for being out in public?”

{ xithymia }

He wasn’t amused when he accidentally bump into someone, before he could snap or bicker back, he looked up and saw this guy once again yet it was a familiar face that he knew. “You…” He sighed in more of a relief form, he was somewhat holding holding his breath for that long, and he slowly released his breath from his lungs and then pasting his mouth. “It’s certainly been a while since I have seen you, Boxian.” His eyes slowly fixed onto the other male in front of him, his brown eyes glisten in the dark night sky. “But what’s brings you here?”