Author Topic: if i keep my eyes closed, he feels just like you && private  (Read 193 times)

Offline uzumati.

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if i keep my eyes closed, he feels just like you && private
« on: February 10, 2019, 09:06:42 PM »
u rock !
u rock !
u rock !
"do you think we'll make it to earth one day?"

dark cobalt eyes glanced over at his lover, who was gazing up at the sky with hooded eyes. tilting his head, the man watched his partner link his fingers together innocently. "i mean, do you think we'll recognize one another when we pass the veil? i can't imagine that father would let us be separated, after all." the man smiled softly. the elder of the two gave a gentle huff and shrugged a little bit, smiling gently as he reached for his lover's hands.

"jackson." a voice made both men look over. this distraction was enough to make the man let go of his lover; that action costing everything. he had no time to react before he was grabbed, his lover screaming for him. dark sapphire eyes sought frantically for something to fight with, though he was interrupted by something warm hitting his face. glancing over, he noticed the splattered blood emerging from his partner; which was now coating his face and body. the man had no time to mourn before he was ripped from heaven, finally opening his mouth to scream.


earth wasn't everything people made it out to be. all the angels wanted to pass the veil, all the demons wanted to go back. i... i didn't want to be anywhere. i've lived so many lives, it was hard to distinguish what had happened in which life. i'd lived in heaven, i've died and gone to hell, i've been reborn at the same age that i died at; peaking my physical body out at about twenty-nine. in reality, i was basically as old as time. as old as satan and god themselves. beyond earth, there are three dimensions; heaven, hell, and limbo. lucifer ruled over hell, god ruled over heaven, and i... i ruled over limbo.

everyone thinks that hell is the worst place you can go. they're taught about the raging fires, the eternal torture. but, in reality, hell is nothing like that. i never understood why humans thought that hell was bad. i mean, lucifer was "evil", therefore, why would he punish you for being evil as well? it made no sense, but that's what everyone seemed to believe. heaven was... boring. everyone was sinless, had the same personality, no personal opinions about everything. there was no conflict, no lying, no cheating, no problems. it was... so boring. no one had sex, no one got drunk, no one did drugs, no one got into passionate arguments about what they disagreed on. nobody thought differently. heaven, to them, was perfect. i've lived on heaven, hell, earth and limbo and heaven, by far, is my least favorite.

limbo... to put it simply, limbo was beyond terrifying. all the souls of everyone who has died go there; but they don't know they've died. all the soul think they're still alive. every soul is separated from one another (not by force, it just ends up that way), and, therefore, it is an eternity of loneliness, an eternity of solitude and suffering. in limbo, you constantly feel the pain of your death. all of the sadness and pain from your life is constantly running through you. souls start out sane, crying for their loved ones and roaming aimlessly. the more time they spend in limbo, though, the more insane they get. the souls turn against one another. they turn limbo from a cry-fest, into a living nightmare. and i'm the one who has to rule over them. see, there are three people who rule over the main domains; lucifer rules over hell and the demons, god has heaven and the angels, and i... i get limbo and the tormented souls of the damned.

being the grim reaper has its perks, though. for example, even god and satan fear me. which, of course, is to be expected. as the ruler over limbo (and the souls of everyone) i am, quite literally, the one who determines whether you live or die. i can take anyone's soul at any time. lucifer and god both know this (and, yes, both lucifer and god have souls. every living thing does). that, by definition, makes me the most powerful being in existence. well, i like to think of it that way anyway. i mean, i can't make planets and new species like god. i can't command a fleet of soldiers in battle like satan. but, what i can do, is kill everything in existence.

however, this doesn't mean that i'm immortal. beat me up too much and i can die. or, rather, my physical body dies. my soul will be transported back to limbo while my physical body is remade. this is possible by the ring that i wear at all times. when my physical body is beaten beyond repair, my soul retreats back into the ring, which is like a portal back to limbo for me. my body repairs itself while i wait in limbo, and i'm automatically transported back when it's been fixed. it was an odd process, and, depending on how bad the injuries are, it could take up to a century for me to get back to earth.

hell was predictable. heaven was boring. limbo was a nightmare. the only solace i found was on earth. there, i could do as i pleased. i could make myself seen or not. i could kill whoever i wanted, whenever i wanted. i could drink as much as i wanted and not hurt from it in the long run. i couldn't get any sicknesses (i could fuck the dirtiest person on earth and be fine). normal humans typically couldn't dish out enough to kill me. i'd only ever been killed by demons and myself. i could pretty much do anything i wanted. well, except for the one thing that i wished i could do. no matter what i did, i couldn't die. not permanently, anyway. despite how much i wanted to; despite being able to take every living thing's soul, i couldn't take my own soul. it was the curse that i had been stuck with towards the beginning of existence. right before i was going to pass the veil and live my life on earth with my lover.

i know that i can't die.

nothing can kill me permanently; i know that.

but that doesn't stop me from trying anyway.

+ + + + +

i made sure he didn't die. i made sure that, every time life threw him something (sickness, an enemy, natural disasters, etc.) i was there to help. he never noticed all i did for him; which was understandable because i never made myself visible. i never let him know that i was there. i'd watch him for hours on end, watching him grow and go through the stages of human (or, rather, inhuman) life. he wasn't a human, i knew that, but he was still part human. not fully mortal, but nowhere near being immortal, either. people made fun of him; thinking that he was just making up the flickering movement in the corner of his eyes. neither he, nor anyone else knew that he was telling the truth. he couldn't have known that he was being hunted. he couldn't have known that the grim reaper was playing the part of his bodyguard.

he was so much like him. same face, same hair, same laugh, same everything... i couldn't take him. i couldn't let anyone else take him. he shared everything with my previous love, and yet... it wasn't him. this man wasn't my pilot, and i knew that. but, any time i thought him him being dead, it hurt. i couldn't let anything happen to him. not again. even if this man wasn't the one i had thought i was going to spend all eternity with, he looked so much like him that i couldn't stand the thought.

so, when i saw the armada of demons heading towards his house, of course i went, too.

i wasn't sure why lucifer wanted him dead so much, but i wouldn't stand for it. not at all. i couldn't control who lucifer wanted dead, but i could prevent it. this was the first time i had given a shit about who satan targeted. but, since pilot wasn't immortal, i couldn't let his physical body die, otherwise i'd be forced to take his soul. so, i followed after the demons, my weapon of choice (twin chain scythes that were identical in every way, connected by a long chain that allowed for both close-quarters combat, and long ranged attacks. i made sure my weapon was fairly simple, but effective. when your heard the chains of my scythes rattling, you were terrified beyond belief. it was effective, and, honestly, i found it fun to watch the panicking of anyone who heard it. it was told in children's stories; folklore made sure that most everyone was terrified of the sound of rattling chains. rattling chains meant i was coming. some people brushed it off because they didn't believe in me, but you won't believe how fast they beg for their lives when i actually show up.

following the demons, i frowned a little bit. there were a lot... i ignored this factor, though, positioning the scythes so that the chain dragged behind me. they circled around the man's house, and i wasn't long before they had dragged him out. frowning a bit more, i moved forward, chains rattling noisily. of course, i couldn't mask the sounds i made, and the demons were able to see me. one of them turned upon hearing the chains and shouted to the others, "the reaper is here!" the rest turned towards me, and a good portion of the group moved forward to me, while a few demons stayed back. no doubt calling for reinforcements. like it would matter. one way or another, they will all end up dead.

naturally, i went for the demons closest to the mortal.

throwing one of the scythes, it stuck in the head of the demon closest to him, and i ripped the scythe back hard enough that it completely tore the head from its body. this made the rest of the demons snarl and jump towards me at once. of course, as the fight was going on, pilot could not see me. he just hear the rattling off my chains and see the demons' bodies being cut apart; their gross black blood being strewn out everywhere and anywhere. now, this wasn't to say that i wasn't taking hits, because i definitely was. the reason for this being that more and more demons were coming through the portal that they had opened previously. it was getting overwhelming, actually, but i was somehow managing.

well, i was managing until he screamed.

i made the mistake of looking over, seeing one of the demons running a sword through his chest -- just barely missing his heart. this made me lose my concentration. the barrier i had put up to keep myself invisible disappeared. this meant that, for the first time in his entire life, he could see me (though i wasn't aware at the time). and i stood there, struck dumb as the demon kicked the man to the ground, his wings spreading as he shot off into the sky towards the portal. the rest of the demons did the same as i watched him begin to bleed out. the seconds felt like centuries and, for a while, i felt like i was going to cry. the man that i had tried so hard to protect was going to die, and all those demons were going to get away with it. i was going to be forced to take his soul. it felt like i had been standing there, staring at him for eons, but, in reality, it had only been about five seconds before the rage hit me. the overwhelming rage. the very same rage that made lucifer himself shake in his boots.

a black fog covered my body and my fingers tightened on my scythes, my gaze turning up towards the demons who were still trying to flee to the portal. it looked like i was just a shadow, though my head had turned into something that looked like the shadow of a bull skull, but with teeth that looked like a saber tooth tiger. my eyes, however, were nothing but a pure white light. still, though, when one of the demons had looked down, this sight was enough to make him screech to the others. "go! quickly!" from my back sprouted wings, though... they weren't actually wings, and instead just the bones of what would be inside of wings. they, too, were made of the same black fog that covered my entire body; and they had a span of nearly fifty feet when fully outstretched. i could even fly with them, but i was too furious to. this was the kind of fury that even a murderous rampage could not quench.

so, instead of trying to go after them all, i simply threw one of my scythes a few feet away form me, having it stick into the ground. quickly after, i ripped it away from the ground, tearing a hole between the worlds. not even satan himself wanted to go to limbo, and, now, i was going to personally introduce all these demons to it. from the small rip i had made came hands, made of the same black fog that enveloped my body. the hands shot up, the fog covered in the facing of thousands of damned souls, crying for their loved ones, begging for death, pleading for mercy, wishing eternal damnation on others. the hands began grabbing the demons as they scrambled towards the portal. "where do you think you're going?" even my voice was different. my voice wasn't just a single voice anymore; it echoed and reverberated thousands of times over, sounding exactly like all of the souls that were trapped in limbo were speaking in unison. it had a terrifying array of chords and notes that it was hitting at the same time, making for a rather eerie and petrifying chorus of damnation. "you all. belong. to me." more hands shot out of the portal and my wings outstretched as the hands began covering the screaming demons, pulling them down towards earth. the crying souls on the outside of the hands began covering the demons as they were forced into the portal. the demons were already begging for mercy. like i would give them any.

i laughed when they protested.

as the last of the demons were pulled through the earth, screaming, crying, and begging for their lives, i grew tired. incredibly tired. both portals were closed and the black fog melted from my body, though the anger hadn't subsided. not fully. i found myself dropping my scythes and grabbing a fallen log, making my way to one of the demons who was still, miraculously alive. i then proceeded to beat him with the log, taking great joy in the amount of blood that was gushing from his body and the pained screams he was making. a few minutes had passed before i heard a weak voice and i growled, turning around to face the new voice. "make one more sound and i will tear off your jaw and shove it up your--" i paused when i noticed who the voice belonged to. oh. i frowned and tossed the log away, picking up my scythes and making them disappear. when i looked back at the man, he was staring directly at me. oh. fuck. for a few seconds, i found myself staring back at him, mimicking the way he was looking at me.

finally, i turned my anger towards him. i didn't mean to, but, y'know. it happens. "what the fuck?! why are they always trying to fucking kill you?! do you know how much time and effort i spend trying to keep your dumb ass alive?! you'd be fucking dead if it wasn't for me; do you even realize that?!"i must have forgotten that he was bleeding to death but... he was a peri. even with his current state, it would take him over an hour to actually die. i had time.

time to bitch at him.

&& ooc &&
say hello to hollow
in all of his grumpy angry bitchy glory

  it's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
there's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do

Offline mcfly

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Re: if i keep my eyes closed, he feels just like you && private
« Reply #1 on: February 13, 2019, 10:17:05 PM »
words: 3,252 || ooc: i love two ( 2 ) angry grumpy bitchy boys wow

a beautiful young woman, truly hundreds of years old; a scourge of angels and demons alike chasing her, her own feet carrying her as fast as she could, faster than any human being could run. pure white wings sprouted from her back, but she didn’t chance using them—broken, bleeding, a trail of feathers following behind her. her bare feet were scratched and bruised from the grass and the stray twigs, rocks and pebbles, and her sundress was torn to shreds.

the glowing around her flickered, the pain surging through her strong body—but she kept running, holding a boy no older than four years old in her arms, who clung to her with his tiny fists, eyes squeezed shut, trembling.

“don’t open your eyes, meu amor,” she whispered to him, breathing heavily. her own golden tears fell from her bright eyes, and she cried out when she tripped, shielding her boy from the fall. the trees rustled more and more violently, black smoke mixed with blinding light getting closer and closer and closer.

she quickly got back up to her feet, stumbling, sobbing quietly. the boy opened his eyes to make sure she was okay, eyes wide, but she quickly hid his head in her shoulder. “eyes!” he closed them tightly again.

they came to a small cabin, and there she hid him inside, putting a necklace around his neck. she spoke a small phrase, and the pendant glowed, then became dull again. the boy whined as she moved away after placing a kiss to his head and telling him she loved him more than anything else in this universe. she left without another word, leaving him in the darkness.

he could hear her screams, and he opened his eyes, tears flooding his eyes and spilling onto his rosy cheeks. he curled up and closed his eyes at the bright light, and then there was silence, and darkness.

he woke up with a gasp, eyes flying wide open. he didn’t move for a few seconds, but darkness clouded his vision and he finally panicked, kicking the blanket off his coldweat-wracked form, and tried to move, only resulting with him landing on the ground, falling backwards off the bed with a loud ‘thud!’ he cursed under his breath as the paint shot through his body, but it quickly dissipated. he groaned and lied back, feet still on the bed, and hit his head against the wooden floor a few times before resting.

with an exasperated sigh, fausto turned until his feet hit the ground, and he pushed himself up into sitting position, legs criss-crossed. he rubbed the sleepy from his eyes—but the tired always stayed—and reluctantly stood up so he could trudge to the bathroom and turn the shower on. he peeled his shirt off, face scrunching up at the dampness of it from his sweat. he threw it to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner, consisting of just a few simple articles because he only had a few outfits—it’s all he needed; he didn’t care for extravagant shit, much less tons of it.

after stripping the rest of his clothes, he climbed into the steam-filled shower, hissing as the scorching water hit his bare skin, but relaxed quickly, and stepped further into it until it rained onto his head and down his face—and he stood there, still and eyes closed, for a few moments, savoring the feeling of the warm water dribbling down his scarred body. then, he ran his hands through his hair, and reached over to grab the shampoo without opening his eyes.

after washing his hair and body, ridding it of the sweat and grime from the other day—and this morning—he turned the shower off, and reached for the towel hanging just outside the shower on the bar on the wall. he dried his face first, then his hair as much as he could, and draped it across his shoulders. he dragged the second towel and dried the rest of himself as best he could before wrapping the towel around his waist, and stepped out of the steam and towards the sink so he could hunch over it, hands gripping the edge of the porcelain to keep himself steady.

exhaustion swept over him in a large, harsh wave, and his heart palpitated, and his knees buckled. he caught his balance before he could fall, and with what energy he had left, he managed to drag himself back to his bed so he could plop down belly-first. he grabbed a pillow and dragged it under his head, hugging it loosely, his feet hanging off the bed, and he immediately let sleep take over.

he could feel it—the darkness radiating off of them like a goddamn space heater. he’d just wanted on peaceful night, but of course the universe fucking hated him. he still couldn’t understand why his mother named him fausto; he was probably—no, he definitely was—the unluckiest guy, ever. trouble always had a way of finding him, no matter what precautions he took to make sure it didn’t.

it was really starting to piss him off—he was twenty-one and he’d already had several
—many—near death experiences. honestly, if someone, or some people, or some things, wanted him dead so bad, why didn’t they just get it over with instead of teasing him? maybe there was something looking out for him, or maybe these demons and supposedly “merciful” angels just wanted to toy with him—either way, it was getting really old, and he was pissed off and exhausted.

he growled into his drink, wanting nothing more than to knock himself out with a bang of his head against the counter—but he refrained, for the sake of all of the other patrons at the bar. black and white circles dotted the corners of his vision, and his hands trembled. he sighed heavily and downed the drink, pushing it forwards on the bar with a finger sticking out in a signal that he wanted another. the bartender shook her head and told him he was being cut off, because, jesus christ, that was his, what? tenth? eleventh? twelfth drink? he wasn’t counting anymore, and he didn’t care, because he wasn’t even drunk yet—hardly, anyway. it took quite a lot to get him drunk, thanks to the peri blood running in his veins.

curse his mother. curse his father. curse them for ever thinking it was a good idea to bring a halfling child into this disgusting world.

he narrowed his eyes at the man—definitely was not just a man, but whoever he was wearing was one—who sat next to him and gave him a tight-lipped, almost-sympathetic smile that was sickenly fake.

they thought he was fucking stupid; they thought he couldn’t tell the difference between a demon and a human; the thought he didn’t know what they were trying to do, that he couldn’t remember what they and the angels did to his mother.

“if you think i don’t know what you are, you’re not only an ass, but a dumb one.”

he got up from the stool and hid his hands in his pockets, the dots in his vision growing in numbers for a couple seconds before they gradually disappeared. without looking back—and ignoring the bartender, who called out to him, asking him if he had a ride and if he’d be okay—he walked out of the bar, shoulders slumped. he could feel it following him, so as soon as he was a few blocks away from the bar, he broke out into a fast job, and then a sprint.

he knew it was a longshot, outrunning a demon, but he was fast, thanks to his mom, and he had a chance. he didn’t think he’d actually outrun the thing, but he could get pretty far, at least. when he looked back, however, the demon was nowhere to be seen, and he could hear it’s cries a few moments later, begging and pleading. confusion hit him the same time curiosity did, but he kept himself from investigating, not wanting to chance it being a trap, and continued to run all the way to his flat.

on his way there, he swore he could see something from the corner of his eye—just a flicker of movement that made him twitch his head to the side, made him even more uneasy—but when nothing came up to him, nothing touched him, and nothing sounded, he sighed heavily and focused back on just getting home and getting into bed.

his eyes slowly peeled themselves open, and he let out a soft sigh from his nose, blinking slowly. he rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand, and slowly sat up on the bed, knees bent outwards and to the side, away from his body. he leaned forward, putting the soles of his feet together, and stretched, fingers intertwined and palms facing away from him. he grunted as his shoulders and back gave satisfying pops, and then leaned backward, hands keeping himself upright—or, mostly upright. he rolled his shoulders and his head, from side to side until his neck cracked twice for each side, and then scooted himself to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over it. he put his head in his hands, rubbing at them slowly, harshly, with the palms of is hands, and took a deep breath.

in—one, two, three, four; hold it—one, two, three, four, five, six seven; and out—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

and then he stood, slowly and carefully, and walked leisurely to his dresser. he grabbed the last clean shirt—a simple white v-neck t-shirt—and a pair of baggy, light grey sweatpants, and he dropped the towels from his waist and shoulders and got dressed. after, he threw the towels into the bathroom, carelessly, and made his way out of the room, down the hallway, and by the living room to the kitchen. he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, making a mental note that he really needed to get groceries—and do laundry—and leaned against the counter with one hand gripping the edge, ankles crossed.

he stared down at the bottle of water with a frown, standing there in silence for a few moments, before he scoffed softly at himself and uncapped the water, and took a few sips.

“what does this flicker look like, exactly? any specific… shape, or form?”

fausto sighed and leaned back, heavily, into the back cushions of the sofa. he looked up to the ceiling, ran a hand through his hair, and shrugged his shoulders. he returned both of his hands to his lap, fiddling with the cap of the water bottle there, and refused to meet the therapist’s eyes.

she thought he was crazy—he could tell.

“i dunno; i never stick around to actually try and see it. it’s just a- just a blur of- of-”

he sucked in a deep breath and shook his head, frown deepening.

“i don’t know. i don’t even know why i’m here-”

“because you lashed out at work, and your boss would have fired you if you didn’t agree to go to seven session.”

“seven. fuckin’ hate that number,” he mumbled, wiping his hands over his face before dropping them back down in his lap. he uncapped the water bottle and took a quick few sips before closing it again.

he set the water bottle aside after closing it and walked over to the recliner in the living room, grabbing the remote to the television from the coffee table on the way, his feet dragging on the floor. he pressed the power button and sat down in the chair, slowly lowering himself down onto it, and swung his legs up and over one of the arms, curling up as comfortably as he could. one arm wrapped around himself, the other hanging limply by his side not leaning against the back of the chair, and he flipped through the channels until he found one he could tolerate—a free movie channel playing a mid-2000s movie he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of.

he had already taken a few-hour nap—he hadn’t bothered to look at the time, because he had today off work, so did it really matter?—but he was already starting to drift off again. the remote dropped from his hand as his eyes slid shut, and he was pulled under again.

he was curious.

he knew this would probably get him more therapy sessions, or he’d lose his job, or maybe—probably; more than likely—both.

but he was too curious and too pissed off to care—mostly pissed off.

with a frown set on his face, he took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and took one step, then another, and another until he was in the middle of oncoming traffic. he heard the honking of horns and tires screeching and the cries of onlookers, and the car that should have hit him stopped just mere inches—not even—from him, it’s hind tires lifting off of the ground for a few seconds before bouncing back onto the ground. he opened one eye, then the other, and his tense shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh passing his lips.

he rolled his eyes as people looked on, the man in the car frozen for a few seconds before he got out to yell at fausto, and one person—a young woman, probably nineteen or twenty—came running up to him to put a gentle hand on his shoulder and pull him into a hug, tell him everything was going to be okay, yada yada.

he’s heard that before, and it’s never held true.


he frowned and looked around, and the young woman furrowed her brows in confusion up at his own confusion. she asked him why he flinched so hard, but he couldn’t hear her as the world around him started to grow darker, darker, darker, and another loud noise sounded out.

his eyes flew open, and on reflex, he pushed himself over the arm and to a defensive stance. he growled as they flooded in, and he rolled his eyes, blurting out a quiet “are you fucking serious?” before two of them grabbed him and started dragging him outside. he gave somewhat of a fight, still groggy from the nap, and the nap before that nap, and the restless night of sleep he’d had before that—but, of course, it was no use. he might have been half peri, but they were purely demons.

purely. ironic.

these assholes really wanted him dead, huh?

fausto clawed and scratched, fire burning in his bright green eyes—just like his mother’s, except more tired and a hell of a lot angrier. he kicked and yelled out at them, telling them to fuck off, go back to hell and leave him the fuck alone, asking them what the hell he’d ever done to them—they just snickered at him, but their snickers quickly quieted, and his expression of anger quickly turned into one of frustrated confusion as one of the bastards cried out to his comrades at the sound of rattling chains being dragged on the ground.

that sound was familiar, but fausto couldn’t remember why.

his eyes blew wide as the demons tried to drag him off more quickly, only for them to be ripped away and literally ripped apart. their black blood splattered on him, and he groaned in disgust, nose scrunched up. he looked back up, trying to see what the hell was doing this to demons, because if it could do this to these assholes, then he wanted to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible—but he also wanted to know what the hell it was, because maybe it was the reason he couldn’t fucking die, but sure as hell could still be beat close to death, get so sick he’s on the brink of it, but just couldn’t quite get there.

and maybe he wanted to cuss it out for that, because, yeah, he was very, very ticked off.

he watched as the demons were basically torn to shreds by seemingly nothing. he could feel something trailing up behind him, so he quickly turned around, only to be met with a fucking sword through the chest. he tried to stifle it, but the scream bubbling up ripped from his throat until his voice was hoarse, and again, albeit quieter and more of a sob, when the sword was ripped back out. he immediately fell to the ground, onto his knees and then curled up on his side, breathing quick and shaky, and small grunts and winces and deep whines emitted from him.

he cursed under his breath repeatedly and growled, gritting his teeth so tightly it almost immediately started giving him a toothache and headache. neither of the aches compared to the searing pain in his chest, and his hands, trembling, clutched at his shirt over the wound, pressing hard against it with a loud groan.

anyone else would have died pretty quickly, with how much blood he was losing, despite the sword missing—just barely—his heart—but he was half peri, so it would take him longer. he didn’t know how much longer, but he knew it was too damn much longer.

he flinched and winced at the increasing pain it caused as a booming voice sounded in the air, like it was coming down from the heavens, surrounding him and making his headache and trembling even worse. he looked up, and his eyes widened.

he watched the thing—him? it looked like a tall man shrouded in black smoke with a very intimidating scythe (death? fucking death? was that who it was?)—create some kind of, what, portal? and drag all of the demons down into it.

without thinking, he let out a weak “hey!” after it was finished, dragging all of the demons down to wherever, and he got himself up into a sitting position with a few grunts and groans, one hand on the ground and the other still clutching his chest over his wound. he coughed, and blood dribbled down his lips, causing him to groan in even more disgust. he stared at the thing that had saved him—or maybe it just wanted to kill him, itself—and it stared back at him with the same expression of frustrated confusion.

and then it started to yell at him, in a normal human man’s voice, and he scrunched his nose up more, frown deepening as he leaned back, expression turning incredulous.

he scoffed at it’s words, and tried to stand, managing to stumble up to his feet, hunched over. he took a few moments to try and get himself to stand straight up, with his head held up high, teeth bared.

fuck you, asshole! i never asked for your help! and how would i know why they’re fucking after me? i’ve done jack shit! all i do is work, eat, and sleep, and i don’t even do that well!

some of his words were slurred; his australian accent thicker from the emotions and the pain; and his voice was hoarse from the screaming and from the goddamn pain; and a few seconds after he finished yelling back, he went into a coughing fit, choking on the blood coming up into his throat, the pain increasing. he couldn’t hold himself up, stumbling back down to his knees, hunched over with a hand trying to grip the ground and the other clutching more tightly at the ripped shirt over his wound.

fausto silva.
« Last Edit: February 13, 2019, 11:32:07 PM by marty »
so let the hurricane come blow me down — down to the mountain where i will scream to be found . the sky has opened up , and now i'm overcome with all the information: the universe , the atom . the world is collapsing ; the world is indifferent .

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Offline uzumati.

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Re: if i keep my eyes closed, he feels just like you && private
« Reply #2 on: February 13, 2019, 11:53:13 PM »
u rock !
u rock !
u rock !
"goodness, hollow, your eyes are so beautiful!"

a nose sticking in his vision made dark and deep blue eyes glance up from what he was reading. some kind of poetry one of the other angels had written. they wanted hollow to read it because hollow had a knack for literature; especially poems! he loved poetry and wrote a lot of it himself.

a dark eyebrow raised itself and watched that smaller male roll over into his lap, getting right up against the other. deep green eyes gazed lovingly into his own blue ones and hollow felt his heart flutter like it was his first time seeing this man again. they were truly meant to be with one another.. that much was obvious. they were soulmates, everyone knew that.

"what do you mean?" hollow's voice was soft, sweet, but much deeper and gruffer than his lover's. pilot chuckled softly and placed his head under hollow's chin.

"you know how god is making those super big bodies of water? the ocean and lakes? the super pretty blue ones? i think he got inspiration from your eyes!"

the blue eyes in question rolled and hollow set down the book he was reading, arms wrapping around his love.

"i can't wait for when we become human. get to see and feel everything god is working so hard on for us..." pilot's voice was soft as they stared in front of them, simply enjoying the quiet day and each other's company. hollow smiled, closing his eyes peacefully as he hummed happily.

"we'll be together forever, pilot."

"you promise?"

"i promise."

pilot wanted this more than anything. more than fucking anything did he want to become human. he loved god and all of his creations more than god himself loved them. he was the purest soul of them all - and he was still torn away from everything he had been given. everything he had been promised. taken by the very beings he admired and idolized. angels were selfish pieces of shit and every angel he killed made him feel a little closer to avenging his love. hollow felt no remorse for killing angels who didn't even know who pilot was.

vengeance wasn't sweet, however. it was bitter, and made hollow feel no joy or happiness. hollow felt nothing anymore. he was just hoping that one day, he'd feel that pilot's death was justified. a creeping feeling in his stomach made him feel like that would never happen, and he always had to shove that away. he knew that he would never forgive the angels for what they did. he wouldn't forgive the demons for conspiring. he wouldn't forgive god or lucifer. he would give none of them any kind of kindness. they didn't show that to his love, so why should he?

once deep and icy blue eyes had turned pure black; devoid of color like his soul and his emotions were. the color was taken from his eyes just like the happiness was taken from his life. it wasn't just black, though, it was a deep, bottomless void filled with hatred, anger, regret, sadness, and bitter tears. his name went from being a beautifully haunting melody to being what he actually felt like and turned in to. he was empty. devoid. hollow.

abysmally empty eyes stared at the man he had been protecting all these years. he was so much like pilot... memories faded away as the man grunted and spluttered, blood leaking from his mouth and chest. so much like pilot... hollow had half of a mind to sit here and watch the other die, just to try and get this pain out of his chest. maybe if he watched pilot die a second time he would be used to it. he'd accept it. maybe he should just finish the job...


fausto cursed and brought hollow back to the moment. emotionless gaze followed him as he threw a fit of coughs and hacking. though his eyes were devoid of emotion, he frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, chin sticking up defiantly. "you're welcome," hollow drawled, rolling his eyes. he uncrossed his arms and watched the man squirm around a bit more, partly reveling in the sight, and partly wanting to go somewhere else. though, hollow decided he'd helped thusfar, might as well continue.

large frame moving forward, hollow approached the wounded male - easily scooping him up with one arm and carrying the other into the man's house. rather haphazardly, hollow set the man on the chair he had been sitting in before (though hollow didn't know that he'd been sitting in that exact chair). the male looked around for a few seconds before wandering off to try and find some kind of first aid kit. when he got bored of looking, the man huffed and growled to himself, walking back out to fausto on the chair.

the grim reaper crouched in front of fausto on the chair and raised his hand, as though he was going to backhand the other. however, he didn't move it for a few seconds. fingers faded into the same black from from before; spreading down his hand and arm towards his chest. with his free hand, hollow easily tore off the completely ruined shirt from the peri, finding himself staring for a few seconds before he reached his blackened hand to the man's wound. right before he touched the man's bare skin, though, hollow paused.

"this is going to hurt, by the way." he said bluntly, before touching blackened fog to bare skin. and, when hollow said something was going to hurt, it would likely feel worse than when fausto got stabbed. he could heal things, yes, but it usually caused such incredible pain that they died anyway. that's why he always looked for a first aid kit before he rushed to heal the other; getting sutured with no pain killers hurt way fucking less than hollow's healing. he had no choice in this matter, though.

after a few seconds - probably only about ten - hollow retracted his hand, surveying the wound. it closed, yes, but it would need constant cleaning and daily care. the longer hollow touched him, the more he'd get healed, but he didn't want fausto to pass out from the pain just yet, so he decided that was good enough for now. standing up, hollow's hand returned to normal and he crossed his arms. tanned skin and rippling muscles covered in various scars of all sizes and shapes covered his body. he was wearing a simple black tank top, ripped black jeans that fit his form very well, and army styled combat boots that made a pleasant thud when he walked. he looked like a stereotypical movie bad boy almost.

"you really don't know why they want you? who was your dad?" if he didn't know why they wanted him dead, then maybe it was a thing to do with his family. that was the only thing hollow could think of. the tall man looked around before grabbing a wooden chair that was tucked away, spinning it around to sit on his backwards a few feet away from the other man. onyx eyes stared blankly at the other man. "funny that your name is fausto because you're the unluckiest mother fucker i've ever seen besides myself." himself. ah. he supposed he should probably tell the other who he was... ugh. he hated introductions.

"i'm hollow. metaphorically and otherwise. i used to be an angel back when god was creating the world and shit. long story short, after he kicked lucifer out, he kicked me out. lucifer became the devil, and i became the grim reaper. i've been looking after you since your mother-" hollow stopped himself, looking at the air next at the other man. his mother... hollow's eyes drifted down to the ground and he wrapped his arms around to top of the chair, leaning his chin on them as he tried to find the right words. hollow usually had no problem speaking bad about the dead. but he knew fausto's mother; he had been the one to take her, since he took everyone that passed.

not looking up from the floor, hollow frowned - grimaced, really. he vividly remembered walking into the cabin, seeing the boy by himself, scared, lonely, and confused. hollow was supposed to take him, too. but he made a promise on that day. the more fausto grew up, the more he saw pilot, and the less it became about the promise and more about a personal thing.

"i told her that i wouldn't take you until it was time." finally, dull onyx eyes lifted up to meet familiar green ones. the ones he used to gaze in to to feel calm and happy. "you were the last thing on her breath, y'know that?" in a way, hollow was jealous. he'd never had a family before. he was supposed to have one when he came to earth but... that obviously didn't happen. he didn't even have a childhood phase up in heaven. he's basically been twenty-nine his whole life. the grim reaper tucked his mouth down into his arms, hiding it from view as he looked back at the ground.

it was silent for a few seconds as hollow let fausto process everything. "so, i'm hollow. the grim reaper and your personal body guard, i guess. been there for your whole life. even during your, uh..." hollow waved a hand and sat up, looking at fausto. "puberty, i guess is what people call it. is all that touching normal?" the male leaned the chair forward, eyeing fausto carefully. "you seemed really ashamed about it... why?"

// leave it to hollow to ask if jacking it in a school bathroom is something to be ashamed of bc he??
doesn't know actually
« Last Edit: February 14, 2019, 12:02:36 AM by uzumati. »

  it's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
there's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do