#t.rek

[riotingvinesarchived]

for @pearlscnt

     Parties were one of the many things he delighted in. The parties of his simmering youth were ones of freedom and a cacophony of noise he’d yet to tire of. Events such as these on the other hand were stiff to say the least. Inflated egos and sharp lines; making it all too obvious that he wasn’t a part of the crowd. Yet his invitation had arrived in the form of a last minute call earlier in the day from a friend who was truly more acquaintance than anything else. But who was Dio to say no to an excuse for free booze and tinkling music? Of course it wasn’t that easy, for the invitation also came with a warning tut. It was suits or bust, and apparently this time around, he meant it. The deity snorted to himself when he thought of the coral tropical print suit he’d made a point of showing up in the last time an invitation of this nature came around. The horror.

     Instead he had poised himself exceptionally among the squadron of the fashionably extravagant, garbed in a tailored black suit jacket, notched at the lapels with the addition of a stylishly lined tartan trim; accompanied by a matching pair of trimmed and cropped trousers for he was nothing but a good sport when he chose to be. Few and far between, to be sure, but Dio figured if he was going to play along for one night, it would be the Vogue Japan sort. The second his taxi had slowed before the hall lit up beyond reason, he knew he was in over his head. Which made it all the more exciting. Without Elli to accompany him and rein him in; whether or not she knew it, more often than not she acted as a sort of impulse control; he was on his own and to anyone with half a brain, that should’ve made for a terrifying thought. The interior was garish in its misgivings, thin fingers curled around even thinner stems as insipid chatter threatened to fill the empty space between his ears. He needed a drink and stat. Just about accosting the closest waiter touting a tray, Dio didn’t even care that the champagne served tasted like too much money gone to waste. It would do the trick. 

     And it was with two glasses firmly planted in his hands, that he traipsed, nodding when he thought he recognized someone. Sometimes he would slow for a brief stint in conversation, those died out, only to be replaced with a much needed sip from each glass. His wandering gaze blatantly stopped on the pale profile of a very familiar woman. Familiar in that he’d stalked her blog, seen her in articles, stared at some pretty pictures; the usual schtick. Nothing tonight could stop him from going right over to the righteously dressed woman with striking features, sidling up to her like they were close friends. “Y’might want to start drinking if this is how you’re gonna’ behave,” grin slow, he switched out an emptied glass for a new one in passing, quick to offer it up to the empty handed woman with all the presumption he could muster up. “Thank you very hard. For a second back there, I thought I was going t’have to pretend I liked talkin’ to folks out ‘ere. Small world, huh?” Dio was running with the clear assumption that she remembered him, their short conversation in x-files apparently being of import. With the added gall of sporting a look that should’ve known better, no dressing up could disguise the mischief constantly shaping his face.   

[riotingvinesarchived]

for @dxprxvityx

     Perspiration and pine filled his nostrils like a cologne he wished he could forget. 

     War wasn’t his thing. If anyone were to ask, he was a lover first, fighter much later. Sure, the tale of his myths might not support the theory all too much, but his temper had halved since his rebellious youth, making him less apt to impulsive decision-making. Anticipation buzzed across his fingertips where they tightened around the butt of his gun, crouched behind a tree. Dio couldn’t say he remembered how he’d gotten here. Chances were that alcohol had something to do with it, his usual recklessness emboldened by intoxication. Things had begun rather entertainingly, shoved in a hoodie, half helmet and haphazard camouflage; the idea was laughable. But now deep in the throes of battle, he’d lost good men to the vengeance of red paint balls, and couldn’t bear another fallen comrade panting in the dirt.

     His mouth curled in displeasure behind the dark of his bandanna, and he inched forward, seeking revenge. One enemy in particular appeared to be mowing his team down one by one, and Dio was having none of it. Not on his watch. He’d tracked the shifty figure deeper into the fenced off woods, tracking muddy footprints and crackling leaves.

    “Oi, come out, come out, wherever you are, fuck face! Surrender now and maybe I won’t shoot y’where the sun don’t shine!” He had a way with words. Better yet, he had a way of prodding where most preferred to be left alone. Skulking behind a bushel of eaves, he watched and waited, feeling less like a god and more like g.i. joe.

[riotingvinesarchived]

for @s-ga-in

     To say they had rushed into things would be an understatement.

      In the faded light on the rooftop patio of a club with an english name under the influence of so many drinks even he had lost count– they laughed. His charm worked better than usual when alcohol was in play. Whether his exact words had been ‘Let’s get hitched’ or a language only spoken between people too far gone in their inebriation, the hum of alcohol under his skin made him careless with his guise. He wound a ring of ivy around Ga in’s finger and let the booze do what it would with his stupid grin.

     In the cold light of day the next morning after a night of who the hell knew what though they could take a guess, he woke to the shrieks and pummels of hard hands and feet. He remembered rolling off the bed and making a sleepy quip about s&m and it being too early for this shit. Face first on the hardwood of a bedroom floor, he wondered just what exactly he’d gotten himself into. Realistically speaking, he had found himself in much worse positions before. This had perhaps been one of his better wake up calls and he basked in that realization for a few moments. The sudden departure from the bed and what had once been warmth and overused sheets and booze made the cold surface of the floor all the more worse. A laugh still managed to escape his tired lips. A chortle that echoed across the wooden floor, muffled against the grain. 

     “And g’morning to you too, sunshine.” A crooked grin scrunched his mouth as he spoke in a wry husk. The amusement on his face was all too clear if anyone cared to look. Snatches of last night sputtered in his head. Alcohol and catching up had been involved, he was sure, but other than a bar he couldn’t remember the name of now, and a wildly unhealthy amount of wine even for himself– the deity couldn’t be all too sure. He reached down and felt what he assumed were his jeans still buttoned and zipped and that was relief enough.

[riotingvinesarchived]

@chaosrvgns continued from here

“Top notch deduction. You’ve still got it.” 

Unfortunately Dionysus wasn’t above quips. Even in the middle of the night, stood at the lip of shadows surrounding the older man. Especially in the same space as the primordial deity. Discounting the fact it had been several months since they’d last seen one another, several months since paint drained beneath bared feet, several months since Nyx’s death. He’d almost convinced himself it was a nightmare and nothing more, but sometimes he’d still wake up in a cold sweat, or see her in the corner of his eye. 

Clearly Erebus had similar concerns, if not much worse. In truth, he’d found it difficult to speak to the man after the fallout, unable to wrap his tongue around condolences for what could one say to both a brother and lover culminated in one arresting soul. Most would be rightfully frightened at the current moment, but not Dio it seemed. He’d let curiousity and something akin to a tight fist in his belly follow the sensation of another immortal so close. Only stalled at the entrance of the alleyway had he realized who it was. Seen the shadows spike through the air, smelled the blood; iron and bright on the back of his tongue.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the manufactured dark, finally taking in the massacre before him. Erebus was no pretty sight, and he couldn’t be entirely sure his victim had it worse. Bottling a sigh, he closed the gap without a word and pressed fingers to the stranger’s throat. He breathed, pulse erratic at best. Straightening up, he drew a cascade of vines from his feet in a pseudo obstruction, blocking the prone form from anymore damage. Catching Erebus’ gaze wasn’t what made it difficult, it was heeling back his own bloodlust, a feat that had taken centuries. “I’ll assume my fight club invitation got lost in the mail. Y’look like shit. Let’s do somethin’ about that.”

Was Dio avoiding the obvious? Absolutely. There wasn’t an ounce of shame in it. Still, he had it in him to reach and press brown fingers to a particularly dark bruise that stained the older’s cheek. Clicking his tongue, there was only so much that could be done here, and he unfurled another set of vines; these ones meant for travel. “You’re coming with and I ain’t taking no for an answer.” There was no room for leeway in his words.

[riotingvinesarchived]

“@tttt117 continued from here

“No point in lyin’ when you’re lookin’ like that,” the words may have seemed harsh all on there own, but there was a familiarity to his tone. Perhaps even a strange softness, rare to find on his off days. But coincidences weren’t the sort of thing he tended to overlook these days after all the talk of fate from overhead. That and the fact Tomoya was quite literally hunched in the parking lot smattered with cars closer to the studio entrance; big hands cradling his face, barely hiding his stubble. 

The tension in the air kept him from grinning entirely, deciding to join the younger with a hunch of his own. Dio made a point of ignoring the crinkle of his knees and hoped to high hell the other man would do the same. Hobbled on his heels, he craned his head like that would do the trick, aiming to catch an expression; anything to signal that the older man was in fact right. He liked being proven right, but if anyone asked it was concern; which wasn’t entirely wrong. The sounds from the street filtered in, heels clacking somewhere on cement, but it was Tomoya’s exhale that brokered through the short space between them.

“Get over ‘ere b’fore I redact this shit.” Brash in his offer, it was the only way he knew how to let his shoulders loosen, broad arms reaching around the other man in a show of ease and short understanding. Not an overly affectionate man, not when it came to him so sudden, so he let brown fingers sparse through the back of the other’s dark hair if only to pinch the skin beneath; teasing where his arms squeezed. “Just so we’re clear ‘ere. You’re shit at hidin’.” He meant it in more ways than one.

[riotingvinesarchived]

for @repvlsion

     They had better things they could be doing. 

     Like giving spare yen to the homeless. Looking into a cure for a cancer– as a matter of fact, sprawled beneath the sheets of their beds would probably be a smarter decision than what they were currently up to. It was important to note neither of them knew each other. Strangers filled the city en masse, but as the two men straddled their respective swings, several questions were likely to come to mind. 

     Such as: What was a deity well beyond his age doing on a swing meant for children vastly younger than him? What of the other man doing the same? Didn’t he have a party to crash? Answers were useless in the face of the fact it was nearing dark, the lampposts had only just blinked on; swathing the empty park in yellow light. The construction signs should have been signal enough, reflective pylons circling the dirty sand. It certainly wasn’t a place for kids anymore, not when the slide was cracked in half, and most of the monkey bars had been removed. Whatever the case, these two had found themselves here, trespassing property that was clearly marked off to fit their rears into undersized swing sets. 

     Dio only broke the silence after he’d begun to make good air, fingers tight where they bit into the rusted chains. “Just so we’re clear ‘ere. I ain’t a pedophile.” He felt it was necessary he clear the air. This wasn’t the sort of thing he made a habit of, and it bothered him to think the long haired man at his side would draw wild conclusions. For some reason or another he was comfortable where he swung, legs bent uncomfortably, seat chugging through the air. The alcohol running through his system likely had something to do with it, but what did that matter. “Y’ever wonder why we don’t got one of these? Kids don’t even know how to get real air. A waste if y’ask me.” 

[riotingvinesarchived]

for @remneko

     “Like a good neighbour, I’m gonna’ pretend I didn’t just see that.”

     He’d come all this way for nothing. Scratch that, he’d come all this way for drinks, because drinks were as good as it got these days in terms of luring him out. It didn’t matter that in the stretch of it all, they were acquaintances at best, shared mutual friends and acquaintances. Although Dio had him pinned as the young man who’d made a point of calling him old or something close to it months back. He didn’t play games when it came to that sort of thing. Pretend all he might, he had a complex when it came to his age and he had no one but himself to blame. So what he knew of the younger man was as little as possible. His name was Rem for starters, simply remembering that was pretty impressive; or so he thought. And he was a musician of some sort, but weren’t most folks around here?

     That was neither here nor there though, wasn’t it. Chockfull of assumptions and ideas about the world, hell, about other people. Rem included. For all of his assumptions, he hadn’t expected to show up earlier than they’d agreed to; to the sight before him now. Mind you, what was Dio doing skulking around alleyways as it were? His excuse at the time had been the urge to piss, and a dick came with a few perks, one of them being the ability to swing the thing out wherever he pleased, do his business, and tuck it away before any harm could come to the world. Instead of the usual alley, dumpster rusted, some litter the city had missed, shadows long where the street lights hit the angles all wrong; Dio was met with a stationary Rem he could’ve sworn had pushed someone aside only moments before. But maybe he was in fact only seeing things; he had done some pre-drinking back at the apartment, it was only polite. Brow raised, he tilted, looking far too nonchalant for a man who’d noticed a loose pair of runners between them. 

     “M’teetering on sobriety right now, so I’ll believe just about anything y’tell me.”

[riotingvinesarchived]

for @kultaxjaeyoung

     The internet was a frightening place.

     Only in recent years had Dio managed to find a way around the wonders that were online porn. He much preferred the simplicity that were dvds and vhs cassettes, but that was apparently uncouth and out of style, or so they said. They being of no real importance but voices that went in one ear and traipsed out the other. For a god who touted modernity, contemporary inventions weren’t entirely his thing. What made it all the more scarier was his crippling inability to grab himself a sturdy hold. Most nights he wouldn’t even bother with his laptop; it played the part of a footrest and pillow for his dog better than most others. 

     But curiousity had always gotten the better of him. When he wasn’t scrolling the web for relatively ad-free porn, he was playing solitaire, fucking around on the youtube, getting up to shit all. This time around he happened to open a new tab calling itself chatroulette. His interest piqued at the latter half of the word, always up for a little gamble. The first thing he noticed was the tit-to-dick ratio on the randomized chat site. There weren’t nearly enough breasts to make up for all the half hard chodes he was being exposed to. The first couple of nights, he’d yet to work his webcam magic; permission pop ups were not his forte and Dio had been quick to learn in the past that whatever he clicked tended to lead him down a path of no return. 

     Plenty of folks, especially young giggling girls, which made him increasingly weary with every skip. Even more so now that he had found a work around and the green light lit up as he appeared on the lower corner. Most of the time Bebe had found himself a place on Dio’s lap, pawing at his laptop, snuffling at the keyboard like that would tear him away; yet it would take more than that to keep the god away from likeminded individuals who were also interested in wine, sex and skeeball. “Y’ever notice how poodles always look like they’ve been crying? I mean, th’fuck’s up with that, right?” Before the next person had even loaded up, Dio was on random tirade brought on by who knew what. He stared at the screen as if he expected the stranger on the other end to make sense of the nonsensical.