#paraplay

[excitionxx-blog]

[ ❦ ] valley of the death // technologiikxs // greek!myth AU

   fingers tainted with scent of death

   thread through the curvy tresses,

   admiring it's texture and the way

   faint light bounced on the inky

   strands of hair.

   with love and care, hades' hand

   slowly starts to follow the curve

   of her shoulder, feeling the softness

   of untouched, pale skin.

   his moonlight, his queen is laying

   down with him, basking into the smell

   of death, pain, rotten bodies, but most

   of all, into the smell of his sickening

                l o v e.

                           " you're so quiet today. "

   he muses; voice is deep and rough,

   nothing like his touch.

[excitionxx-blog]

[ ✄ ] snip-snip // kabajaku

   the blond stared down at the long sleeves, trying to pull both of them up without either of them falling back down. it was mission impossible. the red kimono was too big for him, even if he tried to tie it better it fell down his skin. a groan came from him before he lifted his arms in the air, trying to get the sleeves down, pushing the red material back clumsily. noiz then looked behind, staring at the tall man. a frown appeared on his face.

   ` i don't understand. i only asked for a haircut. why am i forced to wear this? when was the last time you washed it, anyway? `

[excitionxx-blog]

[ ❥ ] i { don't } want to feel your perfume { anymore } // kingaoba

large hands hold the bluenette's waist, he pulls him close and his lips land on aoba's neck. work was tiring. it pissed him off, it made him want to scream at the ones who dared to talk about him and behind him. noiz found solace in silence, not in the middle of loud people, or ones that would whisper behind his back. noiz was aware the sometimes he would let out the rage on the persons next to him - mostly on aoba. as much as he tried not to, he couldn't hold back. of course, the older of them would try to calm him down and be understanding, like always. but noiz would fuck up more and more as days passed by.

he nibbled on the skin, trying to ignore the fact that aoba was not responding to his kisses and caresses. noiz's hands toyed with the material of the older's shirt, fingers sneaking underneath it and caressing the skin slowly. every time he'd touch aoba's skin, he would find out new things - his shoulders and tummy were ticklish, his sides made him gasp and his legs made him blush. if he had the time to kiss and caress each inch on aoba's body, he would. but days were getting rougher, they would end up arguing, screaming and pointing fingers. noiz would push aoba's buttons, hold him down then do the opposite of what the older would tell him not to do. the next day he would regret it. he would apologize and aoba would just nod. then the same thing would happen.

with a loud sigh, the blond pulled away from the bluenette and lied down on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. " okay, what's wrong now? i did nothing..today. " his tone was low, a frown forming on his face. he was trying. " i'm trying to work this out, okay? you could at least cooperate with me. " he sighs loudly, running his fingers through his hair. 

[excitionxx-blog]

[ ❦ ] possession // aoblossom

meeting aoba made him more curious about him. except the fact that he was intrigued about scrap, noiz felt the need to know more and more, to be next to him and... spend day with him. it was an odd feeling. he would feel mad when others approached aoba as days passed by. they were nothing but friends, yet the younger of them felt the need to pull the bluenette back and hold him, only for himself.

noiz would become more talkative, but not in the... nice way. he would ask about aoba's personal life, he would give his opinion without being asked, and most importantly: he wouldn't give the other space.

" aoba. i do not like the fact that you're getting close to others. " his arms held the older and pulled aoba into the shadows of a tall building as soon as he saw him getting off from work. " you know i'm trying to keep you safe, don't you? " if he needed, he will watch over the bluenette each second of his day. 

[excitionxx-blog]

[ ☣ ] is it playtime yet? // tastefulcruelty

{ x }

  when he fell in the yakuzas' arms, he, for sure, was not sane. there was alcohol in his system, his sight was blurry. he can't remember how much he drank, but it was enough to make him pass out in a blond's arms while another was in front of him, smiling. 

  the scent of blood woke him up. he started coughing.

      instinct of hitting his chest once he regained conscience came and he coughed loudly. there was blood in his nose and there was not enough oxygen in his lungs. some of the crimson liquid managed to slid down his esophagus so he gasped, then spat out the blood. tilting his head back, free hand came to his nose. emeralds widened when he saw the blood on his fingers. it was not a sight that disgusted him for he was used to bleeding, but it was shocking to wake up like that.

    droplets of thick crimson liquid rolled down from his nose to his cheekbones and down on his neck. hand tried to wipe the blood way, but some of it was dried and ... it kept coming out of the gauges caused by losing his piercings. he only acknowledged that fact when his fingers did not bump in the piercings on his nose. he groaned quietly. the scent was unbearable. when he looked up, he caught sight of men shoes. he did not have the power to tilt his head up and look at their face.. yet. he took in soft breathes, trying to calm down from the shock.

[excitionxx-blog]

[ ツ ] LET'S SHARE! // abandoned-azure // kindergarten!AU

emerald eyes look around, lips pursing as he listens to the sound of his parent's car leaving. he didn't want to stay at the kindergarten. he wanted to sleep some more... but there are three hours until nap time will come. tiny digits wrap around a bunny blushie, ignoring the piggy tailed girl's whines and sitting down next to his teacher.

         " ah? noiz, you're quite calm today! "

                    " yes. "

   he was told that if he continued misbehaving he will loose his toys. and they were his only friends, except his little brother. but the latter was too young to understand phrases and play with noiz. a pout forms on the blond's lips, wiggling the plushie and watching it's ears move along. the teacher sits up and leaves the room.

   for another few minutes, he continues playing like that, humming and peering in the room from time to time. careful to not have bruised knees brush against the floor, he sat up and stretched his body. the sound of a cry got his attention. green eyes ascent to a boy with blue hair who was surrounded by the bigger kids. a puff of air escapes him, remembering the reason behind his bruised knees, which was them. slowly, a frown formed on his face as he listened to the others' words. he felt bad for the other even if they didn't know each other's names.

                 protecting.. isn't misbehaving, right?

   with that thought, he makes his way to the group. " oi! leave him alone! " he calls out, pushing one of the boys away and putting himself in front of the crying one. " what's he done to you!? "

            " oh? why do you care? "

               " because--- " he couldn't find his words, instead letting out an annoyed whine before holding out a fist. " it doesn't matter! get away! " words that got him a push and laughter coming from them.

            " else what? "

               " i'll ... beat you! " courage written on his face as he sat up and glared at the bully. a gasp escapes him when he sees the teacher approaching, quickly turning around to the blue haired boy. " get up, get up! " he whispers in a hurried voice.

[excitionxx-blog]

[ ☣ ] THE MIGHTY FALL // verocruciaris-pugnator

being alive hurts. oxygen going inside his lungs felt like it was ripping out his insides. there was pain, there was feeling to it. but it wasn't the one he wanted. it was not enough. he needed more, more of this desperation, to feel it on his skin. he didn't want this numbness anymore.

                 it's dark

                 it's cold

                       ... or so he thinks

he tries to wrap his arms around himself, something he did ever since he was a kid, but the chains hold him back. silence broke by their sound, grassy hues opened to look at them. this.. felt familiar. a tug at the chains, the sound of them clicking together filling his eardrums. his mind is a scary place, he realizes.

        but hasn't it always?

when he was a child, he believed in monsters hiding under his bed, lurking in the corners and creeping in the dark as he slept. but now he believed in himself. he was the monster. he ruined himself and nothing else. for the sake of others, he closed himself in this darkness and refused to let his heart open. it wasn't worth it --- sharing feelings, having your heart beat for something or someone. after all, everyone dies.

the mirror in front of him felt mocking. it was light, not reflecting the darkness in his mind. until now it wasn't there. it was only him and his monsters.

               but why now?

[rbxsoohyuk]

[ self! ] ಊ *: infernus clavem ٢ ☞

Black. Pitch black. Everything was shrouded in black. His crimson eyes could barely register anything in the darkness, and even the Illuminata proved to be useless in the abyss he was thrown in. The pungent smell of the azure blood mixed with sweat stuck to his skin like a plague. There was a dull pain in his chest, where a pierced heart and a couple of broken ribs lay.

He should've been dead by now. He had struck himself dead in the center of his halls, before the Praetorian Guard could even go and do the act for him. He had massacred a Coven, sped through more than four hundred of his kind in one night, the remains of their demise still sticking to his body  like a morbid reminder of what he had done. It wasn't like he needed remembering, anyway, the myriad of voices in his head a constant reminder of the deed he committed.

Ah, the voices. It was almost impossible to hear himself think in the middle of all the anguished screaming that happened inside his head. There he knelt in the middle of the dark room, hands and feet bound with chains to the floor, his head hung low, dead and empty crimson eyes staring at the darkness that lay beneath.  And in the darkness he started to think.

Who am I? Nero. (No!) Another try.

Who am I? The Emperor of the World. (Never!) Again.

Who am I? Samael. (Yes.) The Angel of Death.

The Harbringer of Death. The Venom of God himself.  A variety of titles they spewed to his countenance. He could barely hear those words the others spoke when they tried to speak with him a few moments (minutes? hours? days?) ago. They were rambling about his purpose, how they cannot afford to lose him to the darker side (Abomination!). He heard something about a test, something to prove his worth to the Coven. Something to clear his name. Something to help him reform. 

(You...are...Death....Irreplaceable...But....dark side...Abomination....)

He heard footsteps. He saw two cloaked beings kneel before him (All hail the Emperor! ), heard the clang of the chains dropping on the floor and signifying his freedom. He could smell their blue blood underneath, feel the throb of their life force that flowed inside their veins. But before he could even think of adding two more voices to the cacophony inside his brain, he felt the ever familiar hilt of his blade being slid against his palm.

Infernus Clavem. The key to the Underworld. His sword. His heart. His life.

The voices stopped for a moment.

There was a sound of chalk being dragged against pavement, the sound of a wrist being slit to let blood flow, the sensation of smoke as the cloaked ones disappeared from the chamber. There was a moment of silence before the first growl was heard. They summoned droves of croatan, abominations like him, all sent to rip him to shreds unless he did something about it. He could feel them coming closer, feel their rancid breath hot against his skin, hear their incessant droning about the blood eternal.

The Coven was truly cruel, and he would've laughed if he had felt anything still. But he didn't, and he knelt there, as sharp claws drew blood and fangs tore flesh from his body.

It would've been so easy to just give in to the corruption, to just let himself drown in the voices that sang inside his head (Abomination! Abomination!). He felt nothing, not pain, not remorse, only a ringing sense of numbness that left him frozen and still. But his blade started to get hot,  throbbing against his palm, burning his skin as if reminding him of his duty. It was speaking to him.

Who are you? A Croatan. (It burns.)

Who are you? Samael. (--)

Who are you? The Angel of Death. (--)

And the key to the Underworld began to raise hell. 

The first scream woke him up, the first splatters of blood made him focus, and the first fallen one made him fight. Soon, the voices in his head were drowned in the horrendous screams of his kind, falling one by one by his hand. Underworld was opened, and hell was raised until the screams were no more. He stood in the middle of the carnage, covered in glistening silver, his hand tight against the hilt of his sword. His eyes were sullen, dead; his expression that of nothingness. Everything was silent. There was nothing he could hear. Not the voices, nor the fervent claps of the Conclave members that stood watch as he battled.

He has been forgiven.