607

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

"So you aren't 100% sure about this mix."

"I mean, not completely. You know I gotta test this shit." Jabber defended. While that was true it wasn't how Zanka imagined spending his day off. He was over the raider's house, watching him get creative with a new plant. While watching an amateur chemist work like a mad scientist was not how he wanted to spend their alone time, he had to admit it was fun. Jabber had the most adorable look on his face. Jabber was at his desk, a mess of jars and vials. Most of his room was. Plants and bugs in cases everywhere. Bookshelves full of labeled samples he kept for later use. His favorites were in the middle shelf, easy to reach. Zanka stayed on his bed, leaning against the wall. He had a bag of chips, waiting patiently for Jabber to be done. "Uuuh... this might be diluted enough."

"How do you know just a pin prick isn't enough to kill you?"

"I'm about to see."

"I'm dating an idiot."

She called to Zanka because she recognized his feelings, so similar to her own, but when Zanka seemed to reject her at first it's what made him stay down in the well for so long...the spirit believing that "misery loves company" so she wanted to meet her end with him

But then Enjin and Riyo found them and she was given a name: Lovely Assistaff. She's far from lovely. She knows this. How many has she killed, blinded by her need to hurt others the way she's been hurting all this time?

And yet Zanka looks at her like she is. Treats her like she is. "We need to get you polished, Lovely." He whispers to her, warm hands on cold wood. "Don't worry, I'll get you only the best." Lovely's heart flutters.

But imagine they figure out that something is wrong with Lovely when Zanka gets severely injured during a fight...their mode of transporation is CRUSHED and a storm is brewing soon, so they have no choice but to rush to the nearest town: Canvas Town.

Zanka is bleeding out on Enjin's back, Riyo running ahead to find a doctor, while Rudo holds on to Lovely Assistaff. They all pass through easily...until Rudo gets pulled back at the entrance. Lovely Assistaff is right outside, and with Rudo holding on to her, his hand can't pass through the invisible barrier

But Lovely is BURNING with murderous intent, because the fight wasn't fair. The givers who proved to be more than just nuisances had separated them, ganging up on Zanka who could only do so much dodging and hand combat to deflect 4 givers

Recently I bought the ninth volume of Hirayasumi and I for some reason the narrator really stood out to me, so I wanted to try something like that. I think I might have over done the tell don't show, but oh well. Also Please forgive me guys, I know most of the backgrounds are like undercooked, but I was really losing my mind because I actually kind of hate colouring. I just cant force myself to fully render like five backgrounds. Then again maybe I should have just stuck to black and white if I didn't want to colour, haha.

Zanka is a Giver. Zanka knows ancient magic, because ever since those warnings, it only drew him closer to the subject, wanting to learn more about it, as if he was being called to it. As if it was his destiny. He'd sneak into the restricted section of the academy's library- just to sate his curiosity, of course! Who knows, maybe he can use this knowledge in the future...

He eventually finds out that he can use ancient magic once he activates Lovely- no, maybe even before that, when they were stuck in that well and all they had was each other. He could sense her. He swears. He uses what he's learned from the books but sometimes Lovely just seems to guide him somehow and teach him something new

Maybeee the casualty happens during Doll Festival. "Why does it always have to be me" well dont worry zanka THAT wont happen bc we're attacking someone else 🤣🤣🤣 someone you love!!!

Everything that can go wrong does go wrong. Whether it's Enjin, Rudo, or Riyo, fuck lowkey I want to kill all of them just to imagine Zanka trying to revive them okay i changed my mind we're killing all of them

I know it would be cool for the skeleton thing to happen but fawkkk i cant think of how itll get to that point bc im assuming itll be during a fight and theyll have their vital instruments on them so how would the jinki go intact while their giver is a fucking skeleton

But yes im imagining Zanka doing it when everythings gone to shit and everyone think its so over until Zanka is suddenly pulling the white sheets off of Team Akuta's bodies and placing them on the ground wait zanka what are you doing STOP THAT WHY ARE YOU PLACING THEM ON THE GROUND ZANKA

He's frantic, rushing around, using blood from his own wounds to create the circle, before deciding fuck it and just slashing his hand bc its faster and easier, ignoring his friends panicking as to why he's trying to bleed all over even more, ignoring Goka who seems to recognize the circle and is starting to demand answers

using this as as aa basis

imagine zanka and jabber get into a fist fight,and ofc jabbers strong as hell,and ofc zanka KNOWS hes totallly gonna loose,bc jabbers giving him a run for his money.

but then…

but then he just wins.

casually blogs my first janka yuri doodles

cw Zanka’s homicidal tendencies iguess

—

Sports medicine Major Zanka Nijiku has memorized every bone, muscle and tendon in the human body by the second week of college.

It’s not hard. He’s done it before. His history with the Hell Guard means he knows this stuff, but only in one very specific way:

Zanka knows exactly how much force he needs to apply to someone’s shin to break it, how deep he needs to cut into the back of an ankle to sever the achilles tendon. How much blood is too much blood and the average distance a human head can rotate before the neck snaps. It’s been drilled in him over and over and over the moment his family thought it was suitable for him to learn.

But that’s supposed to be behind him. He’s going to university to learn rehabilitation—how to fix, not hurt.

When he gets involved with Jabber, though, only the latter seems to matter.

“And this one?” Jabber asks, gazing up at Zanka with some weird mix of intrigue and excitement. They’re laying on his bed—well, Jabber is laying on it and Zanka is straddling him, which only kind of counts. a blunt dangles from the hand that he’s not using to rub shallow, maddening circles over Zanka’s hip, almost burnt down to the crutch.

Zanka brushes his hand over the swath of Jabber’s cheek, then presses down firmly on the bone with two fingers. It’s dark enough in Jabber’s room that he relies more on touch to find the structures he’s looking for, but identifying them comes easily; if Zanka pretends hard enough, it’s almost like he’s taking a quiz instead of engaging in psychologically concerning pillow talk with an ex.

Yeah. He likes that idea better.

“Zygomatic arch.” the words fall out of Zanka’s dry mouth on autopilot.

“Could you break it?”

Could you break it, he asks, because he’s Jabber. Of course he does.

“…Yes.” Not with his fists, Zanka thinks. Too much precision of force for a set of knuckles. This one would need something hard—like slamming the side of Jabber’s face into the wall, or the floor. Repeatedly, most likely. “I could.”

He feels Jabber smile underneath his fingertips, and silently mourns the days when he used to be disgusted by that expression.

“Would you?”

Zanka doesn’t feel like answering that.

Instead, he drags his thumbs up to the bridge of Jabber’s nose, pinching at the base where the bone and cartilage starts to protrude. Jabber breathes in sharply, and Zanka pretends to focus on the anatomy. “Nasal bone.”

“Rhinion. Upper lateral cartilage,” Zanka lists, no louder than a murmur. “Lower lateral.”

This time, Jabber doesn’t ask. He knows the answer to his previous question—three times over, in fact. The cartilage is slightly crooked, a detail barely even noticeable when looking at him head-on.

Zanka sees it, though. Like a brand, more permanent than all the other bruises and hickeys he leaves(that jabber returns in kind, no doubt). irreversible evidence that Zanka crawled back to this. To him.

It’s shameful, disgusting, and addictive, the way they keep meeting. Zanka isn’t supposed to crave the violence like Jabber does, but he still ends up here, knuckles bleeding and high off his ass in Jabber’s bed. Or the backseat of his car. Or the bathroom in—

“Here?” Jabber’s hand encircles one of Zanka’s wrists, rings cold against his heated skin as he drags Zanka’s hand down to his bare chest. He’s thin enough that Zanka can feel his ribs—each one, if he really tried.

The anatomical term rolls off his tongue, even though his mind is somewhere else. “This’s your sternum.” He moves his other hand down, too. “Costae verae.”

“And could—“

“You’d die if i pushed hard enough,” Zanka interrupts. It happens all the time during CPR. ribs break under repeated compression, and a punctured lung is nigh inevitable once that’s come to pass. Zanka could probably do it right now—bear down until Jabber’s rib cracks, keep pushing until all the sly shit he says gets stopped up by the blood in his throat. Taste the iron on his lips as he suffocates. “Breathe in. You feel it?”

Jabber obeys, and Zanka pushes down slowly, feeling the resistance as Jabber’s chest tries to expand underneath his touch.

“Yeah, Zan,” Jabber says eventually, voice strained from not being able to pull enough air in. “I do.”

“I could break ‘em like that. Pop your fuckin’ lung.” Then he wouldn’t have to deal with all this bullshit.

By the way Jabber shifts under him, Zanka knows he’s started something. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zanka responds anyway. “‘n leave you here to bleed out like you deserve.”

Now that gets Jabber going, much like threats of homicide usually do, and before Zanka can really react he’s being pulled down for a sloppy kiss. Their lips meet disgracefully, all hungry and rough like they haven’t seen each other in decades—but all it really is is greed.

“Love it when you talk to me like that,” Jabber groans with Zanka’s forehead pressed to his own, throwing the rest of his blunt into the ashtray on his bedside table and sitting up against the headboard. “Fuck, oh my—“

Zanka tilts Jabber’s head up forcefully, mouthing over the marks on his neck he left just an hour ago with a fervor he shouldn’t ever possess. Clavicle, platysma, he recites in his mind, trying to keep his conscious distanced from the way Jabber cants his hips up, already half hard and eager to go again.

“I really should kill you,” Zanka growls as Jabber holds onto his waist. “My life would be so much fucking easier—“

“You won’t. You’d miss me too much.”

Upper Trapezius. Cervical vertebrae. Zanka rakes his nails down the length of Jabber’s back because he hates that he is right.

“Shut up. I hate you,” Zanka retorts.