#points points points

Urogi and Karaku are just two different faces of the same coin. Its honestly dependant on the phase of the Moon if they will get along that certain day. They already get into erratic fist fights and fits often, something Aizetsu doesn't bat an eyelashe to admit; even more shameless to fault them than even Sekido is.

'Joy' and 'Pleasure', pure greed and gluttony embodied, I can see Urogi growing more and more stiff in the naked feather because Karaku exists simply to be a nuisance. If Urogi isn't the center of attention, he acts like he never had it in the first place, pouting like a child and brutally sharpening his claws to exhaust stress. Frantically scrambling in impatient frustration, trying to claw Karaku's face off while Karaku laughs his ass off in-between your fleshy mounds, stroking and prying, thick hands wandering and possessing as furiously as possible while he still holds free reign.

Aizetsu is the most mindful of the siblings, Sekido will note this himself, not like that'll stop him from constantly insulting and deeply belittling his brothers any less. Aizetsu's 'sensitivity' is a useful weapon in the right scenarios. On another note, Aizetsu is incredibly emotionally perceptive, he knows better than to think basic guilt-trapping would work on people as inherently selfish as his siblings, least of all Sekido. There is not getting through to them regurdless of whom their present Owner favors.

So, Aizetsu simply takes advantage of the blatant vulnerabilities in the situation. In steady, silent intervals. Slipping through the smallest cracks in your demeanor and the personalities of his brethren are fairly predictable for the most part. And he holds quite a steep pride in just how heavy he can cling to the source of his desires, none more stubborn than pets, demonic or otherwise.

Sekido is a whole different can of worms entirely. He's actually pretty level-headed, given the specific circumstances. He is extremely temperamental first and foremost, but in an environment where he feels in complete and total control, Sekido turns almost tolerable and considerate, slightly more eager to converse about anything and nothing at all.

Rage is what defines himself.

He will immediately blame it upon his siblings on why he's always on the verge of exploding, always playing the blame game, but he won’t outright scowl at subtle attempts of closeness. He will appreciate the fact you are considering his personal space, though he is hypocritical for it. He hungers for humane physicality and validation the most of the siblings; Sekido's old body did use to be human, he's long-forgotten what it's like to hoard, to cherish the warmth of another who he didn't want to remorselessly disembowel. He can be reasonable and functional amongst others, long as they mind their tongues, as well as yours. But of course, siblings are siblings, always ripping each other's throats out.

Sekido does all the fucking thinking around here, so they better fucking move their pathetic asses off of you and make some damn room!

EATING THIS EATING THIS EATING THIS

tyyy millie for the ask 😮‍💨!! we’ve been trying to kill lucien so here he is getting shoved into some dirt👍.

Micstory for tamsand vs tamcien weekend @highlordofkrypton 😌!!

Words: 830

Rain flittered around Lucien’s feet, pouring like silver droplets across his skin.

Tonight, the sky was a storm of greys and shadowy clouds, dark and more lifeless than it’d ever been, like the coldest nights of winter. The rain was slowly getting heavier, reaching the earth in increasingly deafening thuds. It soaked Lucien through and through. Fell over his lashes and obscured his field of vision for a moment. But even that split of a second was too long, rendering him vulnerable for attack.

Tamlin took his chance and struck him in his side, his fist meeting hard ribs. He was holding back his strength—Lucien knew his impact could be much worse—yet pain bloomed where his fist had hit, anyways. Lucien winced but didn’t falter, bouncing back fast and readjusting his stance, feet firmly planted on the mossy, wet ground. The rain wasn’t helping but he persisted, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and shoving his boots into the soil for stability.

Tamlin circled in on him like the beast he was. Careful, slow, every move of his muscles sharp and with purpose. His eyes, amidst the shrouded night sky, were alight. A green so alive that Lucien tracked with his own.

“Don’t hold back on me, Tam,” Lucien muttered, ragged and panting. A ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

He’d asked for this fight—training session, whatever—knowing Tamlin needed an outlet but was refusing to outright say it. Lucien knew him long enough to know when his bubbling rage was reaching its peak and when it was close to breaking him. And he knew what happened then and what happened after; this story is one he’d read many times before. It’s beginning and end no longer a mystery. It was better if Tamlin let out his anger and frustrations on his own terms instead of them controlling him.

Lucien was more than pleased to take the brunt of it—all of it if needed. Tamlin was hesitant when he suggested it, never too fond of using violence as a means to cool off, and, even now, his hesitation lingered. He didn’t want to hurt Lucien. Didn’t want his anger to take over and turn him into what he feared; an animal.

But its claws were already in him. It was only a matter of time before they ripped through.

Lucien craned his neck to the side, challenging Tamlin, daring him, to come closer. To just dip his fingers into his rage and let it out. Lucien can take it, he’s not weak or a fawn standing on trembling feet. He’s a soldier in his own right.

“Don’t go easy one me. I can take it.”

The rain showered the space between them. It was so loud, a roar climbing up the sky. Tamlin’s face twisted with fury, the glow in his eyes taking on a whole other dimension. Brighter, pulsing, fueled by the canvas of his boundless emotions. He hated this yet needed it, it was as simple and complicated as that.

Lucien didn’t get a chance to say another egging thing before he was tackled onto the floor, his back meeting rain-soaked mud and moss. He grunted as Tamlin shoved him to the filthy ground, thighs locked around his waist, trapping him in entirely. He tried to wiggle out but Tamlin squashed that attempt in an instant by pinning his hands above his head.

Tamlin’s chest heaved, damp pieces of the hair tucked behind his ear coming loose. “Happy now?” He growled, his voice a low gruff in the pouring rain. Sweat and raindrops beaded his face and Lucien felt them drop onto his, wetness pooling on his hot cheeks.

Yes, he wanted to say but his voice couldn’t find him. He was panting and the tighter Tamlin’s hand squeezed around his wrists the less he could catch his breath. It was like chasing a thing he could never grasp.

The rain was relentless. It drenched them and made it even harder for Lucien to decipher where his body began and where Tamlin ended. What feelings were his and what belonged to Tamlin. If the hotness he felt so vividly in his blood was him or just the weight of Tamlin on top of him.

Lucien could count the golden flecks in Tamlin’s eyes with how close their faces were. Their breaths were mingling, condensing into one.

“Tam…,” he groaned but it didn’t come out that way. It was soft and breathy with none of the taunt he’d possessed earlier. He couldn’t quite muster it with Tamlin straddling him. The moment was slipping into something he couldn’t name and they were both feeling it, whether they’d admit it or not.

Tamlin’s hand loosened around his wrist. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered and the rain drowned out the roughness of his voice.

“You won’t.”

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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TUMBLR KNOWS MY FUCKING NAME