a wish upon you

[Selling] WACK, HOMME/FEMME, ETC.

colberry — Tue, 14 Jan 2014 23:08:04 GMT

Hello, my loves! It's been awhile since I've written here, but I come bearing goodies! My university career is quickly coming to a close (seems like yesterday I wrote about my first day of freshman year on here... ;A;) and -- since I'll be job-searching in a couple months -- I need all the money I can get! the GazettE has truly impacted my life, brought out the inspiration to write again, and guided me towards amazing friendships. And I even though it's somewhat hard to part with the merch I've gathered over these years, it's necessary for the next stage of my life :)
These items haven't been used in awhile, so it's time to part and sell them to someone who will give them plenty of love
ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ

☆ SINGLES ☆

~~VORTEX [Auditory Impression - Regular Edition]~~ SOLD
Condition: Used / the CD case has a slight crack / plays perfectly
Asking Price: $5.00 + shipping

~~FADELESS [Auditory Impression - Regular Edition]~~ SOLD
Condition: Used once / perfect
Asking Price: $5.00 + shipping

☆ ALBUMS ☆

~~TOXIC Album [Limited Edition]~~ ON HOLD
Condition: Used once / perfect
Asking Price: $25.00 + shipping

DIVISION Album [Limited Edition]
Condition: Used once / perfect
Asking Price: $60.00 + shipping

☆ LIVE DVDS ☆

Venomous Cell Finale OMEGA 2011-2012 [Limited Version]
Condition: Used once / perfect
Asking Price: $55.00 + shipping

10th Anniversary THE DECADE 3/10 [Limited 1st Press]
Condition: Used once / perfect
Asking Price: $70.00 + shipping

☆ BLACK MORAL GOODS ☆

~~HOMME/FEMME Mini Boston Bag w/ Keyholder [MELT Final]~~ SOLD
Condition: Never used / perfect
Asking Price: $50.00 + shipping

~~WACK T-Shirt [MELT Final - Size: L]~~ SOLD
Condition: Never worn / perfect
Asking Price: $25.00 + shipping

***All prices are in USD and do not include paypal fees!***

☆ Payment Method ☆
Paypal
I will send an invoice to your paypal address and you will have one week to send me your payment.
Once I receive it, I will be sure to notify you when I ship your package.

It would be awesome if you could let me know when you get it too - so I don't fret over whether it got there safely (｀・ω・´)
This will be a first come, first serve basis - it's the fairest way I can come up with. If you fail to send me your payment within 7 days, I will move on to the next buyer (and notify you of this fact, of course).

Please comment with your country (for shipping calculations) and paypal address if you are interested in any of the items above. I will respond with the amount you will owe :)
I'm willing to negotiate prices! Please let me know if you have any questions, would like to see pictures, etc!
⊂((・▽・))⊃

'cherry bomb' - [Aoi/Uruha] 1/1

colberry — Fri, 09 Aug 2013 17:30:22 GMT

Title: cherry bomb
Genre: Romance with a hint of metaphorical smut :D
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Notes: Ohohoho~

Prompt:

i honestly wonder what the gazette does with their old costumes
does uruha have a box with his old costumes in it in his closet?? does he pull out that black miniskirt he wore once and try it on to see if it still fits or something
does it make him feel pretty????
this is all i want to know [ x ]

- : - : -

It doesn’t fit anymore.

The fabric is stretched taught, white cracks in the leather from being shoved haphazardly in a drawer for far too long –

from being torn off in haste backstage, lighter fluid sliding across his flesh, ashes everywhere and a guitar banging against his knees while Aoi spits through his teeth with a rough bite to hurry the fuck up, Shima or start taking lessons from your sister and

from Aoi’s fingernails digging in deep like tonight was it, moon crashed into his shoulder blades as he took Uruha from his knees, mouth hot along his hidden freckles here, fingers crooking against the backs of his quaking knees – teeth pulling at the fabric with a promise of waistband friction, until Uruha arches against the brick, the neon OPEN sign across the street splashing them in red and Uruha does – he opens, wide, swallowing Aoi whole and

from Aoi’s toes crinkling the fabric the sixth morning-after, Uruha’s sheets still tangled around his ankles as he drags himself across the chipped floorboards for a cigarette, blue smoke clouding their eyes and Aoi pressing his lips to Uruha’s knuckles, mouthing little confessions that are too heavy in this dawn light so Uruha pretends he can’t hear the whispers along his fingertips, the croons tangled in his black roots, the “I think I might lo-“ against his clenched jaw and –

– and Uruha can almost remember the way his name fit into Aoi’s mouth as his lips dragged out the little deaths in his chest, pleather skirt hitching up to his jutting hipbones. A messy sprawl of words Aoi would breathe out, the four vowels mangled in his throat, choked off somewhere between the younger’s shoulder and spine.

And the first time it happened, Aoi’s nails grazing the hem outside the dive – their eyes still caked in smeared kohl with sweat gleaming on their necks, the burn of their stolen Menthols making their grins sharper – Uruha watched him with a slow roll of his head, still on his fifth drag. And Aoi watched Uruha watch his hand move further, tracing the fake folds of snakeskin, before dipping lightly beneath – Uruha swallowing at the feather-light touch to his flesh.

And – it was good.

Warm.

Uruha hadn’t had heat in his apartment for three weeks.

But.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Uruha didn’t move his hands to stop him, and he could have – his body slight and lean but his grip steel, months of slugging a bluegrass potbelly across the stage each night carving hard callouses into his palms that could have scraped Aoi’s wrists raw, but -

He didn’t do much of anything except tip his head back along the wall, hairsprayed tresses crunching, and kept his eyes on Aoi’s own heated stare.

Lifted his hips slightly, letting Aoi’s fingers slide up higher

– and, fuck, this wasn’t Michiko’s clumsy, pink-nailed grasp, her black locks catching in her lip gloss as she held him soft like a dying dream, like a disconnected answering machine, like doors slammed and come-back texts never sent; it was firm, heady, I’m here and you’re breathing –

letting Aoi have him if he wanted –

“Do you want what you’re doing?”

— him.

Because Uruha remembers Aoi’s bruised knuckles, skin shredded and red with embers wrought and hell – but not as ripped-open-wide as Aoi’s gutted snarl outside the bar after a rough setlist, the one salaryman smirking too wide at them and Uruha had felt it before it even hit – the sharp smack of metal and smell of shattered bone – as the man drawled after Aoi’s smoke trails, “Does that lip ring get in the way of cocksucking?”

He remembers how Akira had to slam own fist into Aoi’s chest to stop him, Aoi’s hands ripping open the man’s bloodied face.

But Aoi nodded with a sharp jerk of his head, even as Uruha finally broke away from the wall and gently took his trembling hand and placed it on his flat chest. I’m not a delicate thing.

Aoi let out a ragged breath, pupils blown wide and hair stuck to his gaunt cheeks, fingers splaying open like falling eagles. And Uruha kept him there, his hips aching to move – to sweep up and lose themselves until bone cracked.

Until Aoi bunched up the fabric of his shirt tight, leaning in close – fuck, so close – the streetlights creating ghosts on his face; the chilled air coaxed the last wisps of smoke from their mouths before Uruha sunk his claws into Aoi’s skin (his heart) and slammed their chests together.

And it was a gunshot – a knife stuck in their throats as their teeth clacked together, lips bruising and chapped from weeks of rations, weeks of no heat, but this was heat. Warmth as Uruha dragged his bottom lip across the sharp edge of Aoi’s diamond cheekbone. Hellfire as Aoi shoved a knee between Uruha’s thighs, skirt hitching, and broke the moan from behind his teeth.

They’re stumbling with tangled limbs, neon-soaked puddles splashing up their legs as they try to hide their flushed flesh and panting maws in the dark. Uruha gasps with a strangled growl as his back hits the brick wall further down the building, Aoi snaking his arms around his ribs and pushing up, up until Uruha has to wrap his legs around Aoi’s narrow waist. And it’s almost impossible, Uruha’s legs too long and body too broad; Aoi’s arms only used to holding up waif ex-girlfriends with their stilettos clicking together behind his back.

But Aoi shakes out his shoulders and grits his teeth, knuckles whiter than Atlas’ and hips snapping beneath the other’s skirt to get something, anything – him – and Uruha can’t stop the little quakes of his pulse, the deep guttural moans that slide past his mouth and into Aoi’s, “come on, come on”. Aoi gulps down each one, licks a searing strip across Uruha’s collarbones, and “I want, I want this” –

and fuck, Uruha is arching, bowing backward like a dirtied prayer against the brick, against Aoi’s fevered touch sparking in his bones.

Because he’s not always kohl-eyed and laced up with ribbons.

So he bites Aoi’s parted lips, grips his raven-rooted locks tight and pulls him close
and crashes their bodies together
again-again-again
to remind him –

But Aoi is still there, still – I still – will always –

.::.

And later, after the skirts became garters and garters became pants – after the kohl bled to liquid eyeliner and hair darkened, after the knee-high socks were shredded and that graphic tee burned – Uruha reached way back into the bottom drawer. The floorboards creaked when he shifted to dig his hand deeper, the wood still scarred from countless nights of panting insistence that the bed was too far away. His fingers brushed against the familiar, slick fabric and Uruha slowly examined it with a self-deprecating tilt of his lips.

It was a wreck – rips and tears and stretch-marks of rough handling. Fingerprints and handprints and tongue-prints marring every inch of the pleather until Uruha could connect them in warped constellations of the old days, of before.

“Do you miss it?” Ruki had once caught him staring at an old Shoxx magazine at the newsstand, glossy eyes with too much eyeshadow and too little food gaping up at them. The layers of contorted fabric, the come-hither stares that they all had shoved into the mirror to practice beforehand, the devil-may-care purse of his own bowed lips.

And Uruha had shrugged, “There’s nothing to miss, we’re still doing it. And better.”

But Ruki had nodded knowingly, a gleam behind his sunglasses as he smirked over his scarf, “Sometimes?”

With the magazine paid for and tucked under his arm, his free hand absently thumbing the rolled up pages, Uruha had given the younger a wan grin, “Sometimes.”

Uruha slipped the skirt over his calves, slowly inching his way up over his thighs. The slight, anticipating chafe brought out a small, nostalgic smile as Uruha kept tugging. And tugging. And – tugging –

But it was fruitless, the fabric bunching at his mid-thigh, nearly groaning with effort. Uruha was pretty sure he could hear a tinny wail if he was quiet enough, the skirt refusing the budge any further.

Well.

Uruha gazed down at the disgruntled cloth with an almost disappointed frown.

“Feeling pretty?”

Whipping his head up, Uruha blinked at Aoi leaning against the doorframe, his eyes roving over the taller man’s hunched form with a teasing grin.

Uruha straightened with a flourish, stumbling slightly as the skirt clung desperately to the muscles of his lower thighs. Aoi rose a brow, smile widening as he slowly crept forward, matching each backwards step of the younger with his own until the backs of Uruha’s knees hit the bed.

“Aoi, you still have shaving cream on your face – ”

But Aoi lunged, cradling Uruha’s nape as they both fell into the rumpled sheets – flushed, wet cheek sliding along the fluttering pulse in Uruha’s neck.

A tangle of legs, a skirt pulled off with more force than either man was willing to admit, and a pleased huff, Aoi lifted himself up from Uruha’s pink-bruised neck to gaze down at the other’s ungainly sprawl beneath him. Uruha watched him steadily, eyes like whiskey in the dim light. And it was warm, the familiar sweep of Aoi’s hand across his forehead to brush back his too-long bangs. The nudge of their knees to each other’s hips. The silent confessions on their mouths, behind their words. The skirt on the floor.

And Aoi nodded, absolutely positive.

“Gorgeous.”

:.:.:.:.

A/N: I don't really post much here anymore... and even though this was posted on tumblr, I felt like I should put it here too, for old times' sake :)

I hope you guys enjoyed! ♥

MELT [commentary o' flails]: PART 1

colberry — Sat, 29 Jun 2013 17:58:12 GMT

☆MELT DVD COMMENTARY☆
PART 1
~~(because this part was already 10 pages long and yeah.. 8D)~~

So! I haven’t updated this LJ in forever and a day and I figured a lovely little way to dive back in was to write up a commentary o’ flails :D
Writing a commentary totally slipped my mind when THE DECADE was released and by the time I remembered, I had already watched it twice – and we need these keyboard smashes to be authentically virginal, yes? :DD

Ahhh, MELT. I was so insanely excited for this live. Unbelievably out of my skin about it. I’ve said it a billion times, but the build-up to OMEGA didn’t really lodge my heart into my throat since TOXIC wasn’t an album I thoroughly enjoyed. Appreciated, yes, but personal tastes distracted me from really indulging in the innovation that it possessed. And we all remember how OMEGA pretty much kicked me right in the fucking teeth and soon became one of my favorite live performances. SO. The fact that DIVISION is an album that I’ve been looping in my car and on the train until the CD is brittle enough to collapse into dust really has me gripping at my keyboard for what’s in store for MELT.

SO! ONWARDS TO THE UNLEASHED FLAILING \8D/

Disc 1

[Diplosomia-XI]

- The intros/outros for DIVISION astounded me. I’m usually a person who skips over the instrumental interludes, always too impatient to get to the real meat of the album. For shame, I know. But with this album, my attention was immediately captured and I remember thinking during post-first-listen-coital-bliss that the intros/outros really set the tone for the entire musicgasm that was DIVISION.
- I HEAR MEN. \8D/
- Ohhh, the DIVISION gals – forever adoring this entire concept. How the models were dressed so similar that you almost thought they were twins, but differed in the subtle nuances of their faces until you realized they were completely different from one another. Two contrasting halves of a whole.
- The cinematography during this intro is fucking awesome. The hair ornaments, the kimono, the makeup, the slow march towards one another – gliding, inevitably drawn towards each other.
- AHHHHH the audience has me so fucking pumped holy shit – they’re so rowdy alefkjgr;ts 8DDD
- Oh the angles from within the audience are awesome, too. And that orb of light -- … disco ball?
- LG;DKFJRS;GTJSRHD OH MY GOD THAT’S SO FUCKKNING COOL ARE WE FUCKING KIDDING
- HOW THEY JUST ALMOST CRASH INTO ONE ANOTHER BUT THEN THEY’RE HELD SUSPENDED AND THE STATIC AND THE ELECTRO AND EVERYTHING AH
- ALL COHERENCY AND PURPLE PROSE IS FUCKING GONE FROM HERE ON OUT GOODBYE WRITING SKILLZ
- Fucking triangle.
- Christ that’s a lot of fog
- I actually love the typography that was used for the GazettE’s logo during this era. I’m more of a simplistic type of person – the less grandiose, the more raw, the better.
- THAT SCREEN IS SO FUCKING HUGE YES. LIGHTING AND GRAPHICS GIVE THEM TO ME.
- But seriously we need to take a step back and commend the masterminds behind the lighting/graphics design during lives whenever these huge screens are used because mother of Christ *A*
- (it’s Ruki isn’t it)
- Punk disco ball fuck yis
- Speaking of Christ, here comes Leader-sama himself
- This is the first time his Jeezus-locks have fucking floored me on video – usually it’s a clump of seaweed but it seems the kelp has been untangled and free to flow /*w*/

DERANGEMENT

- Amazing fucking lead-in for this song holy god
- Reita what is this no
- The silhouette of Ruki’s duckface – kudos, cameraman
- HOLY FUCK THE LIGHTSLADRJGDKT;S SWEET EPILEPSY YES
- Red is the perfect color for this song and I’m thanking every deity that they didn’t wearing their DERANGEMENT outfits (if I see Reita in that hood one more fucking time >:|)
- OhoHOHOH the autotune has made its infamous arrival >8D
- Aoi. Your hair. THERE IS FINALLY SALVATION FOR YOUR HAIR.
- Holy shit.
- That’s an interesting choice to use autotune during the live at parts that the album didn’t. Not too sure how I feel about it, but the way Ruki is already merry-go-rounding the platform is letting me forgive and forget 8D
- Aoi already seems so much more lively here than he has been in past recordings – the purity of my eyes has been forsaken *W*
- EVERYONE’S HAIR IS AMAZING. PANTENE COMMERCIAL. URUHA PAINTS WITH ALL THE COLORS OF THE WIND.
- Solo fuck yes – the little nuances that make it into the live are just so awesome. Perhaps that’s what makes the GazettE’s lives so organic – it’s never what you think you’re going to get out of a song.
- The bass line in this song is a perfect fit inside my chest – that driving beat between the rhythm section just casually clawing up my spine fucking yes
- Loose hair means windswept hair means Tessa unashamedly swooning.
- I am just in fits and shits over these light screens – THE COLORS AND THE MOVEMENT AND –
- I think it’s so clever how they incorporated the red/blue palette of the PV into the live – it’s not /too/ obvious but it sets the gritty/electro mood so well *^*
- FUCKING CHRIST AKA KAI
- THE BRILLIANCE OF THIS CAMERA ANGLE AND RIGHT DURING THE BRIDGE AHHHHHAGKLJ;
- (bridges are my favorite part in almost every song imaginable)
- JUST HAVING A LIGHTGASM DON’T MIND ME – THE WAY THE SPOTLIGHTS ALL RUSH TOWARDS RUKI AND THEN BECOME COLUMNS BETWEEN EACH MEMBER I LOVE THIS
- Aoi fucking yes – the head throwbacks and baring of the throat and sharp turnarounds and bending right into that guitar – WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN I MISSED THIS AOI-SHI.
- If I look half as casually amazing as 3-fucking-2-year-old Uruha does in this live when /I’m/ 32, I will consider my life a success
- The blackout <3333

GABRIEL ON THE GALLOWS

- OH OKAY DID NOT SEE THIS ONE COMING
- JUST WHIPLASHED ALRIGHTY THEN – I THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE SAVED FOR LATER BUT NOPE JUST THROWING ALL EXPECTATIONS OUT THE WINDOW
- Oh, Ruki this roboto dance \8D/
- Crazy!Ruki a la MAD MARBLE HELL VISION needs to make more appearances like this 8DDDD
- Is that the American flag? xD
- Oh that fucking wah-wah of Uruha’s guitar (I need to learn more technical terms jeezus) – just a filthy little whisper in the background >8D
- Aoi you are killing me softly orz
- I fucking love how everyone’s getting into it aleskjfgr;tskld -- I’ve noticed that it usually takes a couple songs for them to stop holding their breath and start moving around the stage and fiddling with the audience. BUT NOPE. Just Kai throwing his head back, Reita twirling around, Aoi getting his hair all over his face, Uruha stomping around and Ruki ruki-ing \8D/
- Crotch-cam
- Ruki’s guttural screams and the slow body-bang (….already regretting this terminology :|) ♥
- Ohhh I fucking love that angle from over Kai’s shoulder – we hardly ever get to peek in on what he sees during this madness :DD
- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHASLEGRJTSRDKJL I CAN’T CONTAIN THE FLAILS HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO FUCKING AWESOME AND I JUST WANT TO FUCKING DANCE MYSELF OUT THE WINDOW YESYESYES
- THE ENERGY THIS CHORUS HAS – THAT THIS LIVE /ALREADY HAS/
- I’ve always had a soft-spot for Ruki’s bird-flapping arm gestures :D
- That slow fucking swagger what are you doing THIS CAMERA ANGLE IS GOLDEN.
- AOI MOUTHING ALONG YES
- AOI YOU ARE STEALING THE MOTHERFUCKING SHOW NO ONE LOOK AT ME I CAN’T HANDLE THIS
- That was fucking amazing.

VENEMOUS SPIDER’S WEB

- Ahhhh yes – I’m always surprised by how much I love this song live since I was really indifferent about it on the CD
- WHAT. I thought it was “hangover” … WELP.
- That head-roll :DD I can feel the manic!Ruki just beneath the surface YES
- J E E Z U S EVERYONE’S JUST SMITTEN-KITTEN ALL OVER THE PLACE TONIGHT ALRIGHT
- Kai you beast. Can we just take a second and reiterate just how amazing this man is at drumming? Because holy fuck just the dynamics he puts forth – every song has a different personality and he captures their subtle traits so flawlessly
- RUKI WHAT IS HAPPENING. *AAAAA*
- I live for that bam-bam-bam moment in this song
- Oohh I recognize these images from OMEGA – crazy gyrating lady, we meet again D:
- That gasp into the mic omg
- How is Ruki not drowning in sweat in these blazers – I peel an orange and I get pit stains.
- The blaring fade-out on those guitars – the crackles and spits and lulls and whines before they both choke off.. fucking perfection.

VORTEX

- We are only 15 minutes in. HOW.
- Those oversized buttons on Ruki’s blazer 8D
- RUKI I’M FUCKING READY LET’S DO THIS JEEZUS
- yes. YES.
- I will never forget the anticipation leading up to the VORTEX single; I was sucked into the fandom around the release of BEFORE I DECAY and I never saw such a build-up and constant thrum of excitement until VORTEX’s release date was announced. There needs to be more of what that single had – gnawing on nerves and all :D
- All the hair flapping around holy goodness
- Except for Kai
- KAI YOU HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY, WHIP IT
- There are times when I remember that Aoi is pretty much that one drunk uncle at your cousin’s wedding that just needs to /stop/ but is too amusing for you to intervene \8D/
- Randomly pointing out my awe over Reita’s bass strap – so manrii.
- Uruha how are you possibly a Grecian painting at a time like this with all the hair whipping and sweat and unflattering lighting HOW.
- This live seriously has such an infectious energy – everyone’s so loose and thrashing around ah ♥
- This solo has come so far since the first time we heard it on J-melo and it was an Elizabethan tragedy. He must have locked himself in his apartment until he had every note perfectly memorized and executed.
- I adore seeing the foot pedal – I sometimes forget that it’s there honestly as I’m entranced by watching them seemingly create this hard, driving sound from nothing but fiberglass. The technical bits have always interested me – foot pedals, whammy bars, ‘tapping’, ugh yes.
- Why hello, Reita
- HOLY SHIT THAT HEADBANG ANGLE WAS REALLY COOL
- ♥

CLEVER MONKEY

- I think it’s so amazing how this song is becoming an expected classic from these guys \8D/
- Reita’s bass playing in this HOW DO YOU DO – literally clawing at the instrument yessss
- I don’t remember autotune in this wat. (or at least as noticeable as this) I’m not completely adverse to it though – I think it does add another interesting layer to the song :D
- *SILENCE* “ANSWER MOTHERFUCKER” – AND ALL FUCKING HELL BREAKS LOOSE YES THIS IS WHAT THE GAZETTE IS AS A BAND. THIS MOMENT RIGHT HERE. ZERO TO FUCKING CHAOS IN ONE BREATH YES.
- REITA HOW CAN YOU BE STANDING SO STILL WHEN THERE IS A SHITFEST LIGHT SHOW GOING ON BEHIND YOU
- Aoi you are absolutely killing it – I love when both him and Uruha get so into their shit. Like it’s not just “okay pose here for the audience, smirk here, great”. It’s them losing themselves to the music and that’s what creates the best fucking moments – just when they’re fucking headbanging and leaning so far over their guitar that they’re practically tangled up in the strings *A*
- The furi in this is awesome
- I don’t think Aoi’s hair has been this floofy since DIM – I’M GOING TO KEEP MENTIONING IT THROUGHOUT THIS ENTIRE THING, JUST WARNING YOU NOW. I’ve been so :| over his hair choices since after BEFORE I DECAY so this is literally Graceland for me.
- This fucking solo. Is probably in the top 3 GazettE solos that I absolutely adore. It just builds up this emotion right between my ribs, swelling up and up – from the last wavering note of Ruki’s voice to the lolling notes of Uruha’s guitar – a steady rolling rhythm that crests right at your throat until it’s snatched away into the guttural screams of “YEAH CLEVER MONKEY” (…Ruki, these lyrics….)
- Uruha and Kai should have more duets together :D
- LMAO THE LAST “CLEVER MONKEY” SCREAM RUKI I CANNOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY OMG THAT FUCKING LYRIC

SUICIDE CIRCUS

- This intro is still one of the best from them, in my opinion – I’m a sucker for anything remotely orchestral and so I can’t even tell you how many times I dragged out my cello to mimic that first note *swoons*
- These majestic silhouettes
- ….I’M SO EXCITED AKLJG;
- Ohhhhh the fade-in to red “smoke” holy shit that’s nice
- OH GOD
- OH FUCKING GOD
- I WAS JUST GOING TO MAKE A FUCKING SNARKY COMMENT ABOUT HOW THERE WERE NO CHEESY CURTAINS DRAWING BACK
- AND SUDDENLY
- EYE
- ALDSKJGT;SAFLDGRKJ I CAN’T WITH EYES, NOT THAT CLOSE-UP OH JEEZUS MARY
- I CAN’T STOP LOOKING AT IT
- WHY
- (neck sweat, just saying)
- Ruki, you need to do backbends more often holy shit *pointedly stares at Aoi*
- Is this autotune again? Or is my sound just warbling a tad? Hmm..
- Sliding right into those growls ahhhHHHH
- Pinwheel lights are absolutely stunning *A*
- AOI YOU MAGNIFICENT (and sometimes drunk hobo) BEING
- Loving the fresco omg. I think it just fits in so seamlessly; it creates this dome effect almost… and just… all my visual feels orz
- The fact that this song doesn’t really have any solos is awesome – you can still have such a strong, memorable song without a spotlight on a warbling croon
- I just want one of the guys to just fuck it, grab the mic, and sing/growl along /;a;/
- If anything happens to this eye, I swear to fuck
- GUYS SCREAMING IN THE AUDIENCE, THIS IS NEW, I LOVE IT

DRIPPING INSANITY

- Oh my fuck this is going to be amazing
- The lighting, the slight wind, the somber intro, holy shit
- HOLY FUCK
- HOLY FUCKING FUCK
- THIS IS EVERYTHING I NEVER KNEW I WANTED
- I LITERALLY JUST FUCKING SCREAMED WHY IS THIS SUCH PERFECTION
- GODDAMMIT GAZETTE
- That intro was so fucking glorious. I can’t believe just how amazingly executed that was – from the flashing lights synchronizing, to the camera angles. That was art.
- Something I always flailed over about this song is how Ruki’s voice is so sonorous in these beginning lyrics while there’s such a hard clashing background behind him. That juxtaposition is so stunning – and then just how it all fades out to this ethereal ambience before the chorus grips you tight
- I could write sonnets about this song
- The little bits of electro throughout the song are just completely drowned out by the raw instrumentals omg *A* (if I were being any more of a sap, I would say it’s a metaphor for how you can’t ever erase the power of conventional music, i.e. instruments)
- It’s in this song where you can really see the hints of how the GazettE have the ability to weave together bittersweet ballads, but still have such a hard bite to their sound. I was never too much of a ballad fan myself. I’m always more drawn to songs like this – where the ache is embedded into keening guitars/bass/drums.
- Ruki’s screams in this song are just…OAO I think I mentioned it in my DIVISION review, but it sounds like he’s putting all his voice into something he finally believes in after years and years of doubting everything
- I don’t want this song to end ;A;
- That was an awesome shot of Reita plucking at his bass – there needs to be more focused angles of him like this
- Right in the fucking feels, Uruha.
- I can't feel my face over the magnificence
- I love how this solo isn’t like.. clean-cut (I have no idea about the terminology). Instead, it’s almost hoarse, like someone who’s been screaming/pleading/growling for so long and they’re on their last breaths. It might not even have been intentional, but I do adore this kind of sound for this moment. Kudos, Ussan.
- That lull right before the instruments come in again – it’s like a gasp and I just cannot with this song dear god.
- Beautiful.

YOIN

- Oh god what is this..
- All the typography \8D/
- I still have no idea what this song is, for shame OTL
- OOOOHHHHH THE SMEARED/DRIPPING EFFECT ON “PRAY” *AAAA*
- OH JEEZUS FUCK I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN.
- This song… everything makes so much sense. That intro was an amazing ode.
- I remember reading about what YOIN was in tribute to before I listened to the song itself. And I just remember it being such an ethereal, cathartic experience. Kudos, Aoi-shi.
- Ruki’s style of singing for these verses – the mixing of falsetto and breathy lifts – is so beautiful.
- Aoi.
- That solo.
- It just makes my breath hitch – that first wailing note…
- Please have more solos.
- The intensity of that song will never fade and I literally have nothing else to add.

KAGEFUMI

- Ahhh yes, the “ballad” of DIVISION \8D/
- These new intros are so fucking cool falesfkjgr;tsrd
- What a fucking beautiful shot – the warm glow of the yellow lights on Ruki’s back. This whole live is filmed so wonderfully so far :DD
- Uruha are you kidding me with all of you.
- I am officially mesmerized. (by the song, not just by Uruha’s sudden majesty – is it the hair, the no-sleeves? I can’t fucking figure it out)
- --> I MEAN SERIOUSLY THOUGH. KAI LOOKS LIKE A RAT’S NEST IN COMPARISON I DO NOT COMPREHEND THIS.
- Ruki, that vibrato…
- Lives always make me appreciate songs that I was a little less keen on during the album. Kagefumi, for me, was an “okay” song. It was a little too slow for my tastes and while I could appreciate it for what it was and for what it represented, I always seem to skip over it whilst looping DIVISION. But this performance.. the subtle intricacies of the guitars, the low croons of the bass, the gentle guidance of the drums, and just everything… *AAA*
- asdfghjk that little “ahh” interjection from Ruki during the solo :DD I love those moments, yes please more
- The softness of this song ripped me apart in the best of ways ;A;

KAGO NO SANAGI

- These intros are SO FUCKING AWESOME AEFRGFKLFLAEKJR
- I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS \8D/
- Omg and the lights OAO
- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHAFSELGRKJDTS;D KAGO NO SANAGI THIS IS IT YESSSSSS
- ALL THE SPOTLIGHT TO URUHA ALTHOUGH IT SHOULD BE ON KAI, THAT MASTERMIND
- AOI YOU. WHAT. THIS IS AMAZING.
- Oh the wailing of that guitar holy shit – this song is about a prostitute right? I can’t remember but if Ruki’s hips are anything to go by.. :3
- THIS SONG JUST HAS ALL MY HEART YES
- Everything bathed in red like one last broken promise :D
- Between the hip swivels and the throat-grabbing, jeezus Ruki calm it for the sake of my sanity ;w;/
- Aoi and his acoustic need to be wined and dined more often ;n;/
- Holy shit that acoustic OAO - it’s so much more powerful than I thought it was in this song
- AOI COMPLETELY LOSING HIS SHIT WHILST PLAYING HIS ACOUSTIC GUITAR HELLO YES OKAY \8D/
- KAI LOSING HIS FUCKING SHIT BEHIND THE DRUMS
- ALL THE SHIT BEING LOST \\\\\\8D//////
- CHRIST ON MY LIFE I FUCKING LOVE THIS I CAN’T THIS IS JUST SO AMAZINGLY RAW AND GOOD AND EVERYTHING
- THE FALLING PETALS OH OH – it reminds me of the falling ash in RUTHLESS DEED a la OMEGA in the best of ways
- Ruki you sassy fucker.

[Depth]

- I have absolutely no idea what this song is going to be and I love it – kudos for all the intros. They are seriously fucking top-notch
- OH
- I SEE WHAT WE’RE DOING HERE
- I totally thought this was going to be used right before the encore, but as per usual, I am blindsided by this band :D
- Ibitsu flower, yes? :DDD
- This is gorgeous. I’ve never stared at a stamen with such reverence before OAO

IBITSU

- I remember how against this song I was when the preview first came out. I was like “oh god no, please not another SHIVER.” BUT OH HOW WRONG I WAS \8D/
- I love being wrong when it comes to these guys ♥
- After all the emotion that was the YOIN / KAGEFUMI / KAGO NO SANAGI trifecta, this is the “I’m going to fuck the sad out of you” part of the live \8D/
- I don’t think I mentioned it yet, but Ruki’s outfit is so swank (I was going to say “always so swank”, but then I remembered the silver suit from RCE and let’s just not.)
- Ahhhhh everyone mouthing along yes! 8D
- KAIIIII YOUR UTTER LOOK OF PURE GLEE – that bird’s eye view was the best thing ever invented YAY \8D/
- Christ this song is so fucking awesome. All the different dynamics – the wailings and “wah wah”s from the guitars, the moments of sudden grittiness from the drums, Ruki blowing me the fuck away, all of it.
- Please keep this hair, Aoi.
- Casual hip thrusts
- THAT LAST NOTE
- THAT THROAT SLASH
- Yes.

HEDERO

- SUDDENLY NIGHTCLUB
- The amount of epilepsy at this live…
- Reita I just… xDDDD
- Swinging the drumstick like a lasso \8D/
- Holy shit those screens are cool OAO
- HOLY AOIHA BATMAN
- Is this a dance-off
- LET IT BE A DANCE-OFF
- Aoi’s already got the stanky-leg going, this is no contest
- Uruha’s headbang rain dance comes at a close-second though 8D
- LMAO RUKI’S ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
- I never realized how short this song is D:

VERMIN

- YesYES
- THIS SONG. It will never cease to amaze me just how much energy this song has – the audience just completely losing their shit along with the guys ahh
- Aoi, never use hairspray ever again – you’re practically made for thrashing your hair everywhere omg
- Ruki + railings = OTP
- I love how Ruki kind of imitates the furi at the chorus \8D/
- Mother of god.
- I still need that “SERVES YOU RIGHT” shirt… /;a;/
- Aoi’s new Pollock guitar is so fucking cool in this lighting dear Christ. I was a bit hesitant when I first saw the photos after it was made (like “why are you like this”), but shit it’s so awesome in action…
- FUCK YES KAI THERE YOU GO LOSE ALL YOUR SHIT YESSSS \8D/
- Petition for Kai to keep this hair just a little longer
- Kai you are fucking killing me with these hair-whippings – it’s fucking dread-DIM all over again *AAAA*
- ALL THE GUYS IN THE AUDIENCE YAY \8D/ - I don’t think it’s ever been this noticeable before :DDD
- Shit they just really fucking nail that whole “cut to black” concept

SLUDGY CULT

- Aoi you’re killing me with your hair and your shredding and just all of it
- Reita you can be such a fucking BAMF when you don’t try so hard \8D/
- Close-ups of the guitars *A* That snakeskin pattern will never get old
- THESE RISING LIGHTS AHHH
- Being in the audience must have been such a fucking experience for this live with the light show alone
- Uruha: \8D/
- Aoi: the human smirk
- I’m probably going to eat my words after saying this but for some reason Aoi seems to have forgone the questionable dance moves (chicken/dino dance…) he was flouncing around in OMEGA – back to the sensual basics :DD

HEADACHE MAN

- Holy fuck YES PLEASE THIS SONG
- I am adoring the tracking of this live so far
- All the headbang hair 8D
- This is just such a classic
- Oh that fucking slow-down part before everything crashes – Aoi’s slow bow, Ruki raising his arm…
- OH HELLO URUHA YOU HAVE FOUND THE CAMERA YES *A*
- That guitar screech and the headbang/stomping combo I AM COMPELLED TO DO THE SAME
- NEVER GETTING OVER THE LIGHT SHOWMANSHIP NOPE
- The fact that Reita can go into a near-split on that drum platform :|
- Merry-go-Uruha \8D/
- LE KICK
- RUKI YOUR MANIC LAUGH YES

ATTITUDE

- I never thought I would be doing this much flailing over new intros *A*
- Ruki I cannot with you
- THIS IS SO COOL YES I WILL BREAK WITH YOU
- This album translates so fucking amazingly live holy shit
- No joker font to be seen WOO
- Ruki you have stolen the fucking show between the backbends and soft growls oh my
- THAT HEADROLL PLEASE AND THANK YOU
- I never thought this song would be this fantastic live but it has drop-kicked me in the face
- Is that some new ear bling or is Ruki’s ear-mic falling out?
- HOLY SONG TRANSITION BATMAN

REQUIRED MALFUNCTION

- The amount of anticipation I have for this song GIVE IT TO ME
- The vocoding here sounds so fucking awesome – just a little hint and nothing too obvious
- This concert is going to give me an embolism *A*
- Ruki and Uruha are just so :3
- Asdgfhjk Ussan that poke xD
- RM is such a “last song” now that I think about it – there’s an amazing bass line, rolling rhythm, gritty breakdown, and an anthem-like chorus that compels you to scream along until every last vocal cord cracks :D
- I was wondering when Aoi was going to whip out that tongue >:3
- Everyone on the platforms yay!
- Aoi you fucking little bastard
- HOLY SHIT THE DISTORTION
- CHRIST
- MOTHER OF MARY AND JOSEPH *AAAAAAAAAAAAAA*
- OH MU FFASDK;LRAEJGJDRS;GJ;ELSLKJ
- THE FIRE
- AND THE FUCKING LIGHT BEAMS
- OH MY FUCK
- THIS IS JUST
- I AM INCOHERENT AT THE BRILLIANCE
- FUCKING DESTROYED, EVERYTHING
- OH MY FUCKIGN GOD ARE YOU KIDDING THE FIREWORKS AHHHHHHHAESLGKRJT;SGRL
- And then the afterglow
- Apocalyptic fallout
- Holy shit.

Impressions of DISC 1:

That was utterly amazing and I need an icepack for my face.

There’s something so dynamic about this live. I don’t know if it’s feelings still left over from watching Tokyo Dome as my first live – a performance that was epic but also strained due to nerves, in my opinion – but I find lives such as this, the ones that lack a grand gesture behind them (TD, 10th Anniversary, etc) are the ones that feel the most fluid, real, and – to put it simply in a word that I fall back on way too often – awesome. I feel like everyone totally threw themselves into it and had /fun/. And of course it helps that DIVISION would probably be my second-favorite album after DIM. I truly believe DIVISION is what TOXIC wished to be, in a way. I know there are plenty of people who enjoyed and adored TOXIC, and for me, the album was a first step into this newer sound. It was “let’s throw everything into this and see what happens”, while DIVISION was TOXIC perfected. And that is clearly seen through this live performance. Despite the fact that many have hangups about autotune/vocoding, the way in which it was presented during this live was tastefully done, after the initial “oh, okay” from hearing it. So, given this, I was so ready for this DVD; DIVISION was an album that enveloped me completely, and it delivered tenfold. My face is aching from just being pulverized by every glaring guitar wail and each subtle nuance. Every note was on point and crisp, every light shone at the perfect moment, and more so than amazing hair, the guys released their inhibitions – the nerves, the what-ifs – and just went completely full-throttle.

Perhaps what I love most from any live performance is the fact that nuances are created where they didn’t exist in the album. An interjection from Ruki during a solo, a lingering chord – I think the greatest example from this live is Aoi’s Linda solo (which will be properly flailed over in PART2 of this commentary 8D). It’s a song, and a solo, that we all have practically memorized by now and he created another unexpected layer. And I think that’s what this live did so well: playing new songs from the album with different subtleties, but also doing the same for songs that have become classics for us.

I know I mentioned it quite a bit in here, but my bias-senses are tingling and I need to mention it again. Aoi has seriously impressed me so much during this live. He was an amazing presence in OMEGA and THE DECADE, but there seemed to be a little something missing. Given the interview that he did after THE DECADE, citing how he had some troubles and had looked into the audience and realized he couldn’t quit on behalf of all the devotion of the fans, perhaps there was a lingering of that feeling. And I feel like he took that thought, that realization, and embodied it into his future performances. I felt like there were no rehashed gimmicks – it was Aoi being Aoi in the truest sense possible. Always headbanging, always throwing his body straight into the hellmouth of the music, giving us a (constant) smirk and a smolder. I don’t know, maybe it was just me. But I truly think he stole the show in that aspect, by being himself.

~~or maybe it’s the fact that he didn’t ingest as many hairspray fumes as per usual~~

Uruha and his audition for Pantene goes without saying. And I know we’ve all made jokes about his luxurious locks in this live (because really, holy shit), but honestly it’s because we all know his performance – the way he coaxed his guitars to wail wantonly over and over – was absolutely seamless. He’s fucking dynamite in a barrel. A bullet in the chamber. The popping-woody days of NLSG are over and now it’s /us/ that are having a ‘situation’ :D

And can we fucking discuss Kai and his beastly ways? I turn around for one second and suddenly it’s Kai being a BAMF. I was never one to imagine him as the doe-eyed-dimpled kewpie that many fans (and fics) portray him to be, but /shit/. He was fucking amazing and owning those mangy locks and THANK YOU CAMERA TEAM for keeping those angles that we flailed over during OMEGA (foots-pedals and bird’s eye views, yes thank you). Kai is always such a dynamic and animated performer and it was fucking awesome to see him in his truest element.

Reita’s dual-toned hair needs to stay and his hood needs to permanently go. Seriously. I thank every constellation and galaxy that there was little to no hood action in this live, but I SEE YOU WITH THAT HOOD IN SHOXX AND PSP1800, SIR. DON’T THINK I DON’T. But anyways. His bass-playing was superb and the style he played for certain songs was so fucking passionate I can’t even. He truly made me notice him when I usually tend to merely give him a passing glance.

Ruki is passion personified. Plain and simple. There is never a moment when I’m /not/ awe-struck by his ability to give unwavering life to these songs, these instrumentals, these lyrics. Despite all the fun we sometimes poke at him, he truly is an artist in every guise of the word. From heart-wrenching moments such as YOIN to completely shitfaced songs such as CLEVERY MONKEY, Ruki always embodies every song to the last spit-static of his mic. I can’t even begin to describe how his whole persona emotes a song so well – the sensual undulating of his hips in Kago no Sanagi, the broken vibrato of YOIN, the twitching head-rolls of ATTITUDE… Just utterly amazing.

I just feel like the band was in a really good, contented place for this live. You could feel it through the way they presented themselves from the very first flash of light that revealed their silhouettes. It was constant movement, constant vigor, and constant teasing of the audience. Ashley had mentioned to me on twitter that MELT was definitely a live that was even more magnificent and awe-inspiring in person (in comparison to OMEGA which was a smidgeon better on DVD), and I can totally see how that could be. Everyone was spitfire. And it destroyed the stage and all of our inhibitions.

So really, I wholeheartedly believe that everyone is a winner in MELT so far. Aoi was the winner of DIM, Ruki was the winner of OMEGA, and the winner of MELT is seriously the whole band.

'boy kings' - [Aoi/Uruha, etc] Prologue/?

colberry — Mon, 08 Apr 2013 07:10:10 GMT

Title: boy kings
Genre: Slice of life, romance, drama
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha, Reita/Uruha (mostly onesided), etc.
Notes: It's been a year since I started this WIP... So, let's do this, shall we? :D

Synopsis: In which Uruha isn't completely oblivious, just slow on the uptake.

i.

It’s not like Uruha is completely oblivious.

Reita would assuredly argue that point, ticking off the numerous instances where Uruha had displayed an awareness akin to pea-soup.

But for the most part, Uruha prided himself with having a penchant for picking up on details: a warbling chord, a certain tone of note, a particular way to push his fingers into the frets and slide the melody out of warped fiberglass and copper. Paying attention is practically his job description – save those handful of times tripping onstage and diving into the audience. And maybe he views the world in a slightly lopsided way, maybe he waxes poetry on his blog posts and then twists his tongue around otherwise simple prattle in interviews, and maybe he needs to drink to see all the notes come together.

But.

It’s not like Uruha hasn’t noticed.

Sure, it was subtle in the beginning. But, no one really knew what the fuck was going on in the beginning in between dying their hair blood-red and sun-nova-blond in the bathroom sinks of dive bars and scrawling a melody on the backs of their hands with a leaking pen. Not much else was on Uruha’s mind besides racing Akira for the good futon (the one with the really nice quilt that Akira’s ex-girlfriend stitched together before Menthol cigarettes, train tracks and ambition tore them apart) and making sure he still had all of his clothes after Ruki came over (one part singer, one part fabric-klepto).

And making music.

So, when Aoi walked into the family restaurant donning a mahogany-furred coat and platforms, took off his bug-eyed sunglasses and grinned right at him with a tilted quirk of his lips – Uruha snorted.

And that was really that.

Because fuck, Aoi could play – when he wasn’t miming the notes and slacking and blackening his lungs with cigarettes that cost more than Uruha’s dinner last night – and Uruha couldn’t really get his fingers to bend into the strings like that, couldn’t melt into his guitar like that, couldn’t look the audience in the eye like that.

And Uruha couldn’t be left behind, couldn’t settle for merely grazing Glory.

So maybe that’s why he curled his hand tight around the neck of that old Fender that night, found Aoi’s hopeful eyes through the curling smoke of their cigarettes and the flickering light Akira forgot to replace (again), and drawled coldly, “You won’t catch me.”

Uruha had watched as Aoi blinked, taken aback by the abrupt words and bitter tone. A lock of hair fell from his messily done bun, long enough to graze the collar of his Cowichan sweater, as he averted his eyes – still swept in kohl from Ruki’s steady hand the night before – and furrowed his brow. And Uruha was sure he got his point across (and was sure Akira would be rolling his eyes at him for metaphorically pissing around his territory).

Until Aoi looked up with a sudden smirk, piercing hugging his lip at a mocking angle.

“What makes you think you’re worth catching?”

And Uruha should have known then. He should have noticed.

The way that smirk faltered slightly, how his eyes were whispering but-nonono – how his fingers were mouthing the chords that would eventually become Cassis.

But he was young and still had pride spitting in his veins, so he roughly jerked out of his seat instead – fickle words failing him as per usual – and walked away, determined to make sure that from then on, Aoi would never see anything but his back.

ii.

And, for a while, it worked.

It was too easy – the sly grins towards Akira’s drunken pirate jokes, the arm slung around Takanori’s shoulders as he would prattle on about neon lights and Tokyo Dome, all the while dog-earring page after page in fashion magazines he’d fished out of wastebaskets –

“Here’s your pages, Shima. Study them.”

Uruha frowned, fingers muting the strings of the warped Fender and gingerly taking the stack of glossed pages from Takanori’s insistent hand. He pointedly ignored Akira’s enthusiastic guffaw from over his shoulder as he drawled low, “These are from Victoria’s Secret.”

– and even clinked his glass with Yune’s on the nights they pooled their change together and usurped the local dive’s booth for the night, bathing his laughs in amber while tapping his foot against Akira’s shin –

-- all the while nursing a straight spine and stiff hands as he pointed to the correct frets as Aoi furrowed his brow and tried to follow – laughing a little too late, a little too hard, at an inside joke Uruha snorts over with Akira – sliding his fingers in a half-step behind the metronome while Uruha crossed out and rewrote the time signature to 2/2 – 3/8 – 6/8 –

And Akira shoves his shoulder with a knowing purse of his lips whenever he passes by him at the kitchen sink, rinsing the dried blood from his sliced callouses.

Looking back now, after wincing at his hair color choice and Akira’s aloha-shirts, he knows it was stupid. It was a catty game of keep-away that hid itself in fleeting glares inside make-up mirrors and mouthfuls of stolen cigarettes. And Uruha knew his shoulder blades must have looked like daggers, cutting deep as Aoi would slink next to him on stage, guitar wailing and smirk trembling as the elder rolled his hips beneath the chords – beneath Uruha’s frown and clenched fist. And with the blade slicing him clean, Aoi would curl a finger towards the girl gripping the guardrail with smeared eyeshadow dusting her cheeks, lips too red and hands too eager.

So, his skin still blushing neons from the floodlights and mouth cradling a Menthol, Uruha wasn’t sure what snapped in the deepest part of his bones when he caught the wink of silver from Aoi’s lip ring. The flash of pale flesh, the curtain of midnight swallowing the girl’s eager gasps as Aoi leaned her over the dive’s loading dock. Her tights were ripped – argyle diamonds neatly shredded and spliced as she wrapped her legs tight around Aoi’s narrow waist, his fingernails chasing the fresh rips as he slid his hands beneath her.

Uruha watched, entranced and numb to the cigarette burning the corner of his lip.

And it wasn’t anything new. Uruha could still feel last week's hotel door crash into his palm – caught in mid-knock – as Takanori was slammed into the wood by that one nameless 23-year-old artist, nails chipping and throat cracking with sweet death-rattles. Uruha could remember his own tangled sheets, his own glassy-eyed wonders on the nights his skin wouldn’t stay still.

Because all of them were still faceless Peter Pans with fool’s gold glory who could afford to fuck-for-nothing, but couldn’t afford a stereo. They still had splintered drumsticks and thrift shop jeans; Takanori still had to press his lips into the mic so hard, tear the skin open and drip red into the feedback, just to make a sound.

A couple yellow-blue bruises on their necks was nothing, nothing. Just skin-on-skin.

– just Akira’s ex-girlfriend on the elder’s lips as he grips Uruha’s shoulder tight, the bar lights sparking his glazed eyes as he slurs into Uruha’s clenched jaw, “I think we’re going to make it, Kou.”

It was nothing-nothing, but after looking away for months – keeping his eyes on the elder’s shoulder as the chords warbled and tripped, only ever catching his fleeting silhouette – Aoi was suddenly there.

Right here.

And so he looked – he watched Aoi as he bent and swayed and rolled, muscles shifting and stretching, his mouth latching onto the curve between the girl’s shoulder and neck. Suckling, nipping, tearing her flesh apart-away. Uruha watched her shudder and jerk, breath quick and stilettos knocking together behind Aoi’s back with sharp skipbeat-clacks; the way her body lifted, guided by Aoi’s frantic whispers and touch. Uruha bit down on the nicotine and watched Aoi rut his hips against hers, thrusting bone to bone – crushing her, obliterating her –

--cradling the back of her head in his callused hand and softly pressing his lips to the swell of her throat.

“Shima, what the fuck are you – ”

Uruha whipped back, nearly swallowing his cigarette, and fisted his hand in Akira’s collar, tugging him back with a fevered whisper, “Don’t go over there. Roadies are rutting. It’s not pretty.”

His chest nearly ached with the speed of his heart, the afterimage of Aoi’s black tresses sliding along his neck, and the way his lips curled around each silent moan, flickering to life every time he blinked. And Uruha didn’t know why his breath stuttered, why he had to hide this – this part of Aoi, the one that Takanori had sworn was nonexistent with each glance towards Aoi’s lone shadow framed in the bar’s red lights.

Why he suddenly had to keep this; the color of Aoi’s lips as he choked out broken syllables, as he slid open-mouthed breaths along skinny collarbones – blush-red and dark.

Akira’s eyes widened as he took in Uruha’s thin lips and restless fidgeting, mouth parting in muted shock before slowly shifting into a devious smirk, “No fucking way. Is it Akihito and Ken? It totally is; I need to see this – ”

Uruha roughly grabbed the back of Akira’s sweat-drenched shirt, fingers sliding and heart tripping (so close, so close-close-fuck), and hauling him back to the wall, “Don’t be a pervert.”

Crinkling his brow, Akira huffed and pried Uruha’s fingers off his collar but stayed put, “Fine, fine. Why such a sudden killjoy, Shima? You’re usually the first one that jumps at free porn.”

Uruha rolled his eyes, swallowing hard all the same as Akira slid his fingers beneath the younger’s palm to release his iron-grip – newly formed calluses ghosting past each other and it was almost like middle school again, almost close enough for Uruha to twist Akira around and seal his lips against his jaw and do something, something-anything-please – and grumbled, “I don’t jump at it…”

Akira smirked, flicking Uruha’s cheek and ignoring how the younger glowered, “Yeah, because you weren’t the one who re-spooled Jurassic Park to include a heartwarming rendition of Ass Busters.”

“So, are you just going to mention that whenever possible or was now and yesterday at the band meeting enough for you?”

Akira grinned wide, eyes aglow with the playful mischief that used to end with Uruha toeing his mother’s doorstep with grass-stained knees and a guilty pout. The same look that Uruha would imagine over and over, face smothered into his pillow and Akira’s soft snores echoing in the next room, but maybe if he tried really hard, he’d wake up and just wake up and realize and come in and start what should have been, should-have-been-always, because Uruha, Kouyou, had always – wanted – something –

“Something like that.”

A keening moan broke out from behind the wall of the alley and Akira gave Uruha a jaunty salute, already walking away (back to where Ruki was most assuredly pacing around, wondering where the fuck the rest of his band ran off to and leaving him alone to deal with their manager’s garlic breath), “I’ll leave you to it, then. Happy slapping.”

Uruha watched Akira walk away, eyes lingering on the elder’s back – the way his shoulders shifted, his bleached-raw hair ruffling with every step away-away – the breaking gasps and hollow thumps against the loading dock drowning out Akira’s chuckles –

– every slip of his fingertips, every star dying in his throat.

Splaying his fingers against the wall, Uruha slowly sank down to the gravel, turning his face until his cheek rubbed against the damp brick. Until his eyes blurred and the low thrusts of Aoi’s hips and the light touch of Akira’s hand against his wrist bleared together-together-together and maybe he could pretend – collapsed amongst crumpled cigarettes and ten-year-old lies – that he could reach out and just try, just this once –

– like he could stretch out his hand (again and again since he was twelve-years-old with mud splattered against his knees on the soccer field and Akira was twelve-and-13-days with Miko’s love letter crinkled up in his pocket –

his chapped lips touching Kouyou’s in a chaste “like-this, I’ll kiss her just like this” – )

just –

Her ankles over his shoulders, his teeth a meteorite against her throat; Uruha’s lips tasting brick and Akira’s back like a silent mountain.

like –

Aoi’s mouth hot on shifting shoulder blades, cracks in bones, and Uruha’s teeth on Akira’s wrist – collarbones clashing; to have something just like that – like back alley heroine and shattered sonatas that his mother would scream at, that management would murder them for, that he would love-and-love- and fuck-Akira-please, I just want –

this.

iii.

“I saw you.”

Uruha stopped, eraserless pencil hovering over the eighth measure and his guitar slumped into his chest. Dust motes kept drifting into his eyes, the dim lighting of the parking garage draining the color of their ruddy cheeks and Uruha’s fingers were black ice. He could barely feel the chords as he played the tinny melody over and over – desperately trying to drown out Aoi’s fitful humming, the way the elder’s fingers slicked over the strings, the way Akira’s smile broke in two as Michiko’s number pulsed red in his hand.

And now, draped across the rickety folding chairs Takanori found on a ransacked corner of Tokyo and Aoi’s lunchbox amps spitting garbled static, Uruha tried to keep the notes straight in the only place that offered a mocking semblance of acoustics. An empty what-could-be, even with Takanori’s growling eyes in the crowded bathroom at the dive as he painted on a second-face, Uruha digging his bony elbow into the other’s ribs as he leaned away from Aoi’s shorter frame. The nails in his arm as Takanori pulled him close afterwards, nearly crashing their lips together, his voice like knives:

‘Make this fucking work, Takashima.’

– and Uruha’s absolutely positive, even after Dome and Decade and a hundred thousand miles of running and reaching, that Ruki had always known.

Aoi tightened his fingers around the neck of his old Fender – a purple monstrosity that never caught the right light, its deep scars criss-crossing the fiberglass (but it still screamed and yowled whenever Aoi’s hands became claws that dug into the copper strings and rip) – and tilted his head towards him.

He let the words hang in the air like dirtied clouds, blackened and sagging. And Uruha had a sneer on the tips of his teeth because he didn’t see the shaking fingertips mouthing little pleas to just look-up, look-up. The twist of Aoi’s clenched jaw, teeth cracking and spine like glass.

He could only see his ripped cuticles (gripping his guitar neck like a last prayer) and Michiko’s name on Akira’s breath. And Uruha could still feel the ofuro water rising over his knees, his chest, his lips – Akira’s whispers so loud against the wall – “I’m yours, all yours”

He could only see Aoi taking – taking and shredding it apart and bending back into the flickering lights like he was a fucking nova; like he was dying, obliterating, coming undone-and-alive – like it was so fucking easy –

“I saw you watching me,” Aoi drawled again, something with feathers fluttering in his voice and Uruha raised his eyes from beneath his blonde-black bangs, the strands dry and cracked from Akira’s shoddy dye-job.

Aoi’s hair was a tangled, hurried bun – the strands too short in the front to pull back and left to stick to the man’s gaunt cheeks. And Uruha couldn’t really remember the last time he saw Aoi eat something other than a cigarette. Those expensive Black Devils with the blue smoke that stuck to Aoi’s lip ring as he smiled, offering them shotguns of nicotine, styrofoam cups of greasy udon – strolling into the makeshift studio with bags of one-day-expired bento strung up his arms like garland.

“So, are you planning to eat the audience then, Shiroyama,” Takanori rose a brow, pointedly poking at Aoi’s jutting hipbone as the elder stubbornly shoved a can of tea into the younger’s graphite-smudged hands.

And Uruha could remember the wan smile, the way the collar of his wool sweater slid a bit too low over his collarbones, “Rent, food, new amp. You can only pick two.”

And even when Aoi’s ribs are sharp, the noir glint in his eyes is sharper as he caught Uruha’s steady gaze. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping his guitar so tight – veins so stark, blue, the only color Aoi has to his name.

“Kouyou – ”

“You saw me what?” He bit out, tearing into his name on Aoi’s lips.

Aoi slid a thumb against the A-string, tight coils digging into his flesh, eyes steady and knowing.

Uruha scoffed, teeth black, “You saw me catching you rutting into a groupie behind the dumpsters like a dog? Maybe you did.”

But Aoi only snorted, fingers reaching over and under the strings, the first harmonies of Cassis just under his palm.

“I think you liked it.”

“And I think you were looking at me while you were fucking her,” Uruha countered, ribs cracking open as Aoi regarded him with a slow smirk, “If I didn’t know you any better, I’d say that’s a little suspicious.”

The sardonic twist of the elder’s mouth withered into a wan smile, the muted notes in his hands silenced. “You don’t know me at all.”

And he didn’t, not really. A month and some change gone and Uruha still couldn’t dial the man’s number without looking at the wrinkled receipt – a hurried scrawl from New Year’s Eve.

He knew Aoi by frets and chords and rations.

The way his fingers could tangle up in a melody, but how he would merely mime the notes in the heat of the stage lights, too busy arching his back into the fire and losing himself completely into the hands of the audience to echo Uruha’s notes.

The way he sometimes looked over at Uruha in the studio, the bar, the subway as they all crammed together on a single seat, Takanori’s bony knees in Uruha’s ribs and Akira’s nose poking his cheek, and stole puffs with blue knuckles – eyes tracing his jaw, his bones.

The way his lips would purse with almosts – gaping wide with what-could-be, a tall tale of their legs intertwined – like right now.

And it’s not like Uruha hasn’t noticed.

But he’s always been slow on the uptake –

– and Aoi’s already gone, already sliding into the next note with his head tilted low, dark bangs tangling in his eyelashes. The parking garage thrums with a sharp, stolen melody that’s ripped from Aoi’s fingernails, bloodied and desperate, and Uruha watches him run and run, so fucking close and far and here –

– because he always knew Aoi best, in the way last breaths catch a collision too late.

:.:.:

A/N: Ohoho :3

I've been meaning to write this for so long and time just seemed to slip away from me a lot these past two semesters. But I'm back now, and I really hope it was worth the wait :)

I always wanted to do a little "the way we were" with Aoi and Uruha. There are so many nuances to their dynamic, at least in fic-land - little aches that only touch the shadow of what-could-have-been, soft echoes of something beautiful. So, I figured I would write a little timeline in dedication to our resident angst-fest pairing and try to capture those what-ifs.
A few things may be a little hazy in this prologue, but everything will start to become clearer in the upcoming chapters, I promise!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you guys enjoy this piece so far!

WORLD '13

colberry — Sun, 31 Mar 2013 02:50:23 GMT

asdfghjkl;

I've been staring at these tour dates for over a half hour, just in complete shock and disbelief and this-is-really-happening. I know for some people, it might seem silly to be so enraptured by these dates and places - especially since none of these dates are within my own country. But this is just...

It's the possibility, the chance, to finally see in-person what I've been enraptured and inspired by for 5 years.

As much as I would love to go to Japan and see them live, in their truest element, I was never in the position to do so. It seemed like such a farfetched idea, and almost impossible given that I'm a full-time university student with a moth-eaten bank account, but now.. there's finally this chance.

Perhaps I just never thought it would truly happen, no matter the hints given to us through countless interviews and TV-spots. I never thought I would have even the slightest possibility to see them. I had already resigned and accepted the fact that I would enjoy the GazettE vicariously - supporting them however I could, thousands of miles away. Scrapping together enough money to buy albums, tour merch, etc. Watching live DVDs and reading live reports, and seeing Aoi and Ruki spam twitter, and flailing with those who were lucky enough to snap their spines alongside them. And I was content with that - with being an arm's length away, but still being able to immerse myself in the music.

And while it would be truly amazing if they had a NY tour date, the fact that they are even branching out like this after so long is enough for me, honestly. And I'm going to try my very hardest to make this work.

And so!:

Mexico City :: 9/6/13
Jose Cuervo Salon

The plan is to raise enough money in time for flights, tickets, hotel, etc. I've already gathered some flight/hotel info and, really, none of it seems too real yet. But I figure, even if I save up and end up not being able to go, I can still use a portion of that money to buy BEAUTIFUL DEFORMITY with little to no pain \8D/

It's a win-win, so --

Let's fucking do this.

[P.S. Is anyone else planning to attend the live in Mexico, etc? :D]

'skelter' - [Aoi/Uruha] 1/1

colberry — Fri, 01 Mar 2013 06:49:18 GMT

Title: skelter.
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha
Genre: Romance, drama
Notes: Something small. Something 1AM.

Synopsis: In which Uruha isn't Uruha. More like 'Kouyou'. More like the birth of a gunshot.

Aoi’s hands tremble only slightly, just light shakes of not-yet-right, of Yune’s kiss on his spine – his knees cracking apart as Uruha drags his hips west, mouth on his flesh like a starless wound. Gaping, wide-open.

And bar smoke singes his words as Aoi leans down, palms slick against Uruha’s collarbone and ash (and Yune) against his teeth:

“This isn’t for you – “

Fingertips reaching up and tracing the freckles dusting Uruha’s jaw (but not-Uruha, more like ‘Kouyou’; more like the birth of a gunshot).

“I don’t want you – ”

Aoi watches him arc like a dirtied prayer into his chest.

“Not you.”

All legs and yellow-burnt hair and five beers and Akira.

And his smile sharp as he breathes into Aoi’s quaking lips: “You will.”

:.:.:

A/N: It's been awhile. I've missed this (and you guys ♥)

Something bigger is in the works, I promise :)

the GazettE - THE DECADE LIVE download ☆

colberry — Sun, 13 Jan 2013 02:02:56 GMT

the GazettE 10th Anniversary 3.10.12
THE DECADE
Live at Makuhari Messe

☆PART 1☆
[ 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ]

☆PART 2☆
[ 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 ]

☆BACKSTAGE☆

[ 1, 2 ]

- Join with HJ Split

- Each part for main concert is 300MB

- Each part for backstage documentary is 200MB
- mp4 format

*Backstage is now uploaded!
*It's my first time uploading so if there are any issues, please let me know! :DD

'bury them fast' - [Ruki/Reita] 1/1

colberry — Thu, 20 Dec 2012 03:20:42 GMT

Title: bury them fast
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Genre: Romance, slice of life
Notes: Indie days are always fun to write :D

Synopsis: In which Ruki is an endless finale.

Reita is sure Ruki's fingers are going to be stained forever - vermillion dye splattering into the sink, streaking the tarnished porcelain in gruesome blushes. The color is smeared across the gray counter, the mirror; each shade of red is crusting into the grout. And it's as if Ruki had strangled the Sun and won with every snarl and whisper in the dark of Reita’s one-room apartment that this is it, this is it, Akira.

The younger bends over the sink, craning his head beneath the pathetic trickle of water to wash out every last doubt and what-if-we-don’t – choking Daddy’s disappointment and silencing the slam of the screen door against his bruised back. Reita silently watches the dye sink in and he can almost catch a glimpse of before. The stuttering, broken boy who had burnt his lip on Reita’s proffered cigarette in the back alley of the dive-bar two years ago, flickering in-out-not-here. And now he's too drowned in scarlet – fingers like claws as he rakes them across his burning scalp. His silver gauges are glistening in the dank yellow lighting, and the halo of flames shudder.

Reita fingers a lock of his own newly white-bleached hair, the echo of Ruki’s fingers tugging and twisting around the strands until his neck was pulled back to bare his throat in the mirror. The younger had smirked at their reflection, his other hand slowly stroking the pale sliver between Reita’s gossamer shirt and frayed jeans. Like this was real. Like he could have this.

Come and take it.

And he was smirking now, hands still buried in the knotted roots of Reita's hair, and mouthing dark promises beneath the dive’s low bass.

And it’s like biting into a syringe – all metallic tongues and poison-eyes as Reita catches Ruki’s growl in his mouth.

And he’s whispering something into Ruki’s searing kisses – mouthing something god-awful-wonderful into the younger’s neck and jaw and spine as he shoves his hand beneath his waistband and tastes the dye on the other’s flesh –

Something like:

“You’re going to make this fucking world scream – ”

But more like the words that get stuck in his throat until he’s gasping on the little-nothings with every buck and thrash from Ruki’s hips.

It’s horrible – the burn of bleach and the sharp scent of antiseptic are slick against Ruki’s hands as he braces himself on the sink while Reita bites into his shoulder so hard-hard-fuckfuck.

But it’s a marred and ruined beauty that cracks in Ruki’s eyes when he looks up in the mirror, catching Reita’s heated gaze in their debauched reflections. It’s fuck and roll. It’s rouge lips and blood bangs; it's skinny bones that Reita can grasp with his bare hands. It’s Ruki reaching around blindly to fist Reita’s aching cock, his eyes glazed and somewhere far away, somewhere in the future where they can do this on a fucking king-sized mattress with clean sheets and not in a cramped bathroom on a nameless street.

Somewhere that has Reita being patient, slow – steady hands and soft smiles and kisses between shoulder blades.

But now, here, it’s deliciously rough – they lap at sin while the mirror trembles with their desperate thrusts. Desperate for money and rations and something like fame, even if it’s a little crooked and a little painful – desperate for warm hands that hold their lungs as blisters break and track marks pucker underneath busted heaters.

But now, Reita can’t give two fucks about the flickering lights or the graffiti scrawled on the walls (cries of failed rebels and fallen saints), too busy holding on to this fire quaking in his palms.

Too busy falling,

falling, and –

“Don’t just fucking stand there.” Ruki gasps, forehead pressing against the glass, strangled pants fogging the mirror and he’s snapping – snapping and swallowing stars and he’s too bright for this –

Because Ruki has never been still his whole life. He’s one constant breathless sprint, one beautiful finale that wrecks his voice from smoking cigarettes too hard and saying I-love-you’s too fast.

But Reita is full of fading promises and broken leashes from always following Shima’s drunken footsteps and maybe – maybe, he thinks as Ruki arches and moans and lets the elder unravel every piece of himself, lets him graze the beginning breaths of a star –

maybe this is it.

.:.:.:.

A/N: I have a few drabbles and ask-requests that I'll be cleaning up and posting, so I hope you guys don't mind a bit of a mini-spam throughout the coming weeks! This one is one of my favorites that I did as a request for an anonymous user on tumblr, so I really hope you all enjoyed it! <3

'sounds like hallelujah' - [Reita/Uruha] 1/1

colberry — Tue, 11 Dec 2012 07:25:31 GMT

Title: Sounds Like Hallelujah
Pairing: Reita/Uruha
Genre: Romance, drama
Notes: This bromance is underrated, I believe. **Reita is two years older than Uruha in this tale.

Synopsis: But he holds on, rests the bottom of his palm where Kouyou’s collarbones begin to swoop down like skinny wings, and stays there.

i.

They hold each other’s bottom lips with their teeth.

It’s a kiss bruised with snarls – crooked claws twisting into crisp white sleeves, a half-desperate shaking moan of mine-mine-you’re-mine slithering into Kouyou’s open-wide mouth. And Akira tangles himself inside Kouyou’s jacket, snagging himself on the metal buttons and breaking his short nails along the zipper; Kouyou is gasping too deep to catch the rhythm right, his palms hovering over Akira’s shoulder blades.

The bathroom stall door shakes, jangling on its hinges with quivers that lick Kouyou’s spine. His vertebrae slowly splinter and crack apart, and Akira’s lips find the cluster of freckles beneath his jaw – he tilts his head up-up-over until his throat is a northern star.

“Touch me, Kou – please, just fucking touch me – ”

Kouyou rushes forward, fumbles a bit and pushes his open mouth – wide, so wide, like he would swallow the entire galaxy plus five more Saturns for him, for him – into Akira’s cheek instead of his awaiting lips. He accidentally swipes the tip of his tongue along the elder boy’s stubble (two days old, Kouyou remembers – remembers the bristle against his fingertips from yesterday, the soft whisper of flesh against his own cheek from the day before that) before whipping back with a stuttered sorry-hold-on-I-can

I-can-do-this

for-you

– banging into the door before Akira rolls his eyes and tugs him back with a quirk of a smile. Kouyou closes his eyes tight, leans in before the red shame can bloom on his face – but not before Akira pushes a leg between his thighs, slowly angling it into Kouyou’s sudden hiccup-gasp, and catches the younger’s groan with another kiss.

It’s biting, sharp – more gums and teeth than sweet whispers and all the other flowery drivel that Kouyou secretly reads from the magazines he steals from his sister; the ones he pours over with a flashlight beneath his sheets and studies each word on how to tilt your head like this, how to fit your hands into his, how to make him feel good, how to make him love you –

But there aren't any stars in the sky as they kiss, craning their necks back until the ache starts to throb below their belts and Akira shucks off his jeans and grabs Kouyou’s hips like they’ve done this four-hundred-and-two times (when, really, they’ve only tentatively stroked and ghosted over hot and hard flesh with unsure fingers behind the gym and beneath the bleachers) and for a second, Kouyou thinks this-is-it.

This.

Two o’clock in the afternoon, the boy’s bathroom, stall number three; Akira’s tie twisted around to dangle down the slope of his back; his own lips bitten clean through and boxers already half-soaked.

But then Akira looks up from Kouyou’s shifting hips – lifting up-and-away into the other’s callused and rough fingertips, arching into whatever-you-want, because as-long-as-it’s-you, because I-think-I-might – and finds Kouyou’s bowed lips shaking with half-spoken words. A strangled whisper of please-no-yes tangled in his teeth.

Kouyou waits, head falling back into the metal door, static cling making dark-rooted strands stick to the slick surface. Akira spares a glance behind Kouyou’s head, watches the other boy’s tresses snag and splay like a crooked little halo. He tears a hole into his lip with a choked moan, and Kouyou’s back springs off the door as Akira’s palm slides across his aching cock.

It’s fast.

There’s still no stars when they kiss, even as Akira’s unsteady hand frantically slides across Kouyou’s erection – even as Kouyou twists and twines and curls himself like a dirtied prayer along Akira’s hand, little wet croons falling too easily from his lips. There’s no stars, but there’s wind up there – warm breaths shaking out of Akira’s spread-eagled little death, fanning across Kouyou’s damp forehead.

There’s ocean, too. Water lapping at their toes as Kouyou arches back like a sprung bow – hand reaching out with the last thrust of his sore hips to dig his fingers into the last remains of the shore, but there’s nothing-nothing-onlyAkira –

There’s entangling his fingertips into Akira’s short tufts of bleached blond instead; his skinny waist with Akira’s own narrow hips, and a thousand whispers thrumming in both their veins as Akira curls his fingers around Kouyou’s belt loops – minemine-mine.

(and for two weeks afterwards, Kouyou would close his eyes while he pecked the girls’ lips in the hallways and only remember him –

and texting him under the rumpled covers on the first night of the third week, his sister’s magazines all torn up, and giving in: “You’re everywhere and nowhere, so just come here.”)

ii.

Akira is two years too-old. It’s in the way he places his blunt nails beneath Kouyou’s chin and takes.

It’s the way he takes his coffee black and unzips Kouyou’s jeans too fast, batting away the younger boy’s fumbling hands with an amused grin and knowing eyes. It’s the way he undresses himself, t-shirt (stained with engine oil and hair wax) first. Then belt-buckle. Then self. He slips out of his skin, roams the sheets with velvet lips and knife-sharp shoulder blades, slides his too-big palms across Kouyou’s tensed navel – teasing out the little gasps that unravel them both so fast-quick-hurry.

And Kouyou can only reach up and try to hold onto the loose folds of whatever-this-is. He turns off his cellphone, forwarding Ruki’s exasperated calls (“Shima, where the fuck are you? If you’re leaving me alone to deal with Shiroyama, so fucking help me – ”) to voicemail, as he steps over the threshold.

It’s a bit like falling in reverse – all knees and elbows, but then stark-blinding clarity that gnashes his ankles until he’s standing straight up against the wall with his hips butterfly-stitched to Akira’s snap-thrusts, or he’s bent over in half on top of the sheets with Akira’s lips hovering just above his cock – his sister’s shredded magazines beneath his bed and his mother gone for the weekend.

And it’s different from before – this nakedness, this flesh-against-flesh, this. Their erections slipping past each other in searing hello’s to break their jaws with delicious moans; the headboard that’s cold and slick against Kouyou’s shoulders; the bare-bones of Akira clashing into him with every stark, haunting shudder of his hips.

They sweat, here. They whisper.

Akira whispers when he’s about to cum – mangled sonnets of maybe-what-if spilling from his dry lips. And it’s too quick and hushed for Kouyou to truly grasp onto and keep. So, he just nods along and groans (yes-yesyesplease) until the walls nearly cave in, until Akira slumps into his chest, until Akira’s heart slows down (flutters next to his).

Kouyou whispers as Akira leaves – no ‘kiss goodbye’, just a parting promise as his fingertips ghost along Kouyou’s inner thigh (over and under the secret bruises that will appear tomorrow, reminding him of black eyes and bleached hair with every step).

It’s little-nothings. Little left-over’s from his sister’s stupid magazines (words like ‘love, maybe’ and ‘maybe, stay’). His voice shakes all the same, too low and too smothered in his pillow for Akira to hear, but – maybe – maybe –

maybe he’ll become his favorite secret.

iii.

And they’ve been choking on each other for years – months of chaste touches in the hallways, smuggled kisses in the darkest corner of the library, muffled moans and biting Akira’s pillowcases while his roommate is showering in the communal bathroom (raking his fingernails against the dorm’s white-cement walls, his mouth opened wide and body quaking as the twin bed creaks dangerously beneath their thrusts and Akira dips down to capture all the words that are begging to escape from the younger’s chest).

They choke on shitty cell reception in musty closets and even shittier bars, alcohol clinging to Kouyou’s ribs from his father’s scotch (the one he forgot to take with him when he slammed the front door ten years ago) and Akira lapping up the torn, almost-sobs that leak from Kouyou’s throat – crimson scratches marring Akira’s collarbone and Kouyou’s legs wrapping around the elder’s waist tight, so tight.

They’ve been choking ever since a sly grin in Biology class, ever since the first touch of lips after soccer practice – cleats still strapped to their shins and Kouyou’s cheek still bruised from bumping into the goal post. Ever since Akira’s ragged voice whispered “more” – and, fuck, it was so wrecked and just-for-him that Kouyou could only touch back and nod “okay, okay”.

So, when Akira tries to choke him, he cups his neck like he’s holding a bird whose heart is but a fluttering murmur. He doesn’t squeeze and Kouyou stays still – shallow breaths even and fingers still loosely curled into Akira’s mussed hair (dim golds and dull blacks). He doesn’t grip Kouyou tight, doesn’t dare to harshly twist his pulse. He doesn’t fist his fingers around him like an arm rest, a wedding band, a lager.

But he holds on, rests the bottom of his palm where Kouyou’s collarbones begin to swoop down like skinny wings, and stays there. He waits. Kouyou waits.

He breathes in deep then, and presses his fingerprints into Kouyou’s skin. And Kouyou knows this-is-it. That this is the way they’re meant to be held – like a broken bird, like he’s cared for, like he’s love—d .

And that’s how he knows –
that this will not last.

They’re just swollen lips and morning-after-bruises on their limbs.

iv.

Akira closes his bedroom door slowly, coaxing the creaks to stay silent – locks it shut, another girl’s name waiting on his neck –

and Kouyou whispers –

and –

“I’ve always wanted to wake up to you.”

.:.:.:.

A/N: This is a little choppy and messy, but it's finals week and I needed to let my fingers just be unhinged / free from responsibility for a handful of hours :)

I hope you guys enjoyed all the same <33

'milk teeth' - [Aoi/Uruha] 1/1

colberry — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 06:02:30 GMT

Title: milk teeth
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha, Reita/Ruki
Genre: Slice of life, romance
Notes: I demand more indie-days!GazettE fics :D

Synopsis: But then again, Akira works in a bakery – a fact that is always thrown into any argument with a sly grin, much to Akira’s endless frustration.

Aoi doesn’t begin to fall with twisted, shaking hands until later – much later.

It doesn’t start with a throat-ripping realization over cheap beer and cheaper cassettes that break between his fingers as they all crowd around his dilapidated stereo to play the tinny warbles of demo tapes. Not when he catches Kouyou’s vacant glance – not Uruha’s because Uruha didn’t exist yet; it’s only Kouyou’s deep-set stare and mirthful quirk of his lips and not Uruha’s coy smirk and navy-smeared eyes – over the top of Takanori’s tomato-beet-blood tuft of hair.

It’s not when Kouyou’s clouded gaze focuses, the blear of watered-down alcohol ebbing away to sharpen into a knowing grin – it’s not when Aoi (because he’s always been Aoi, never Yuu; never that country-born, sea-foam stained kid with too-wide smiles and easily bruised skin) smiles back before Takanori’s suddenly gesturing wildly with a touch of violence, and maybe with a hint of batshit crazy because fuck –

“It makes sense, it makes perfect sense – ”

And it’s not then either, not when Aoi’s eyes are still lingering on Kouyou’s, even though the other boy’s lackadaisical grin is now aimed at Takanori’s fevered babbling, and Aoi is left to trace the dip of his long lashes, the slope of his cheek as he smiles with all his crooked teeth when Akira grabs Takanori’s waif-thin wrists.

It’s not then. Not yet.

“You’re fucking insane – ” Akira has to dodge Takanori’s hand as the younger makes a wide sweep towards Aoi’s abused stereo and then a grand arc to the piles of cracked cassettes strewn across the nubby, crumb-ridden carpet.

“The fuck I am, it’s perfect.”

Akira cocks an eyebrow at the glimmer clawing its way onto Takanori’s beaming face – the grin is clashing with his murderous-red hair, but Aoi’s already used to the ex-drummer’s glaring duality, how Takanori sketches open-jawed skulls in jagged lines and coos over the tiny puppies pouncing inside the shop windows (even as they’re dressed in ripped fabric and rusted chains). But then again, Akira works in a bakery – a fact that is always thrown into any argument with a sly grin, much to Akira’s endless frustration.

Akira makes a grand show of surveying the ratty curtains, the holes in everyone’s jeans, the jutting spines, the broken heater, the skipping 8-track, before turning back to Takanori’s pleased humming. “Exactly what is perfect here?”

Kouyou huffs in amusement, mouth tilting to one side and even though Aoi catches it – the glow of jollity dancing on the other’s lips – it’s not then.

Takanori sputters, unable to grasp the fact that Akira doesn’t see this, and grabs a random cassette from the strewn pile upon the grubby carpet and waves it around like the holy grail, “This.”

Akira stares at the glee-splattered grin stretching Takanori’s usually stern and focused features for a beat, before whirling a glare towards Kouyou’s lackadaisical form draped across Aoi’s paisley (“Stop snickering, Taka. A free couch is always a good couch.”) cushions. Kouyou tilts his head in askance while Akira points an accusing, black-nailed finger at him, “Shima. If that shitty take-out you got us was laced, so fucking help me – ”

“Are you a fucking idiot?” Takanori shoves Akira squarely in the shoulder, huffing as he thrusts the tape underneath the elder’s nose – not yet hidden, not yet ‘Reita’, not yet – forcing Akira to lean back lest he’s force-fed plastic, “Look. Cassette.”

A pause filters through the room, save for the forgotten metronome still tolling out endless beats. Akira blinks and Aoi stifles a snort, stealing a glance at Kouyou beside him to find a slow smirk curling the taller man’s lips as he points a finger to his chest and drawls out low, “Me. Kouyou.”

He catches Aoi’s wandering eye with a playful nod – but it wasn’t then, not even when he bumped his knee against the elder’s and brushed his shoulder as he reached down for more greasy take-out – before Takanori snaps, thoroughly affronted. “Real fucking cute, Shima.”

Akira finally shoos away the musty-smelling cassette tape from his face and Takanori relents, the devious gleam already sparking in his contact-free eyes once more, “No, this is our name. It’s perfect.”

With a quirked brow, Aoi reaches over and plucks the tape from Takanori and curiously flips it over, “…Tori Amos?”

Kouyou tugged back on the stretched fabric of Aoi’s collar and pulled the other into the safe-haven of the dilapidated couch with a grin, saving the oblivious man from Takanori’s sharp-nailed, gaudy-ringed lunge. Aoi appropriately splutters, losing his grip on the cassette and squirming at the feel of the younger’s fingertips dusting across his neck before Kouyou let go, cheeky grin meeting his flushed gape. “Oi - ”

Akira smirks at them –

just like he would, later, when Aoi would slip up – forget – and absently run his finger down the spine of Uruha’s hellion.

and still like Reita would, even later – inside the calamity of the dressing room where Aoi lifts his shirt above his head and the doorknob-shaped bruise shines along the dip of his back and Uruha’s smirk tastes like charcoaled promises from across the room – and murmur into the pocket of silent darkness just before the encore, shoulder bumping against Aoi’s, catching his eye from the sliver of light chasing Uruha’s jaw, “About fucking time.”

– and nudged Takanori’s stiff form, a devious poke to the ribs melting the younger’s affronted scowl into something less sharp –

because Takanori-and-Akira had always been; steady waltzes of chaste touches and tangled limbs, of creaking thresholds and shadowed smiles in the backseats of a hundred vans.

“Just tell us what the hell you’re going on about, Taka.”

With a withering sigh, mourning the loss of artistic subtlety, Takanori pointed his dying cigarette towards the remaining pile of cassettes, ignoring Aoi’s low growl at the ashes burning pinholes into his carpet and security deposit, “Something like ‘cassette’ would be perfect. But something a little bit more. Something… harder – ”

-- harder, something so much fucking harder, but Aoi’s nails slice through the headboard so easily, and Uruha almost looks like Kouyou – a flicker of ‘before’, a soft breath of cheap cigarettes and brighter eyes – and Aoi almost loses it, almost shatters his spine and molds himself to the gasps that drip from the younger’s lips, “Aoi, I – fuck, Yuu, please – ”

and Aoi tries – tries to bite through the tender flesh beneath Uruha’s jaw, tries to lure out the broken moans and rattling bedposts. There’s a faint crash – burning hearts or a misplaced lamp – and suddenly it’s Kouyou there, beneath him and inside of him and drinking in Aoi’s growls and wrecked pleas to make it harder, harder –

but Kouyou crushes his hand into his own, breaks the spaces between his knuckles and whispers a hush into his trembling palm, “Not yet, not yet – ”

And it’s not then, not yet. Not when Kouyou still has visible freckles (not smudged away with kohl and navy and neon lights) nestling at the corner of his contact-free eyes – not when Aoi still drawls out his vowels too long (makes Kouyou’s name into a fucking sonnet) in an accent that still clings to hometown-whitecaps. It’s an accent that he later tries to erase from his tongue, rolling the words off from his maw in the bathroom mirror until the lilt of home breaks –

But he still slips back into the worn vowels and harsh rhythms like a lost love when Uruha nips his parted lips, hands sifting the gooseflesh of his inner thighs and arching his back into Aoi’s trembling grip with a hiss.

And Uruha drowns – sinks deep and hard – into the panting lilt that escapes Aoi’s throat. It’s words he can’t understand, phrases that seep into his bones and clog his lungs until he’s choking – gasping into what-could-be and maybe-what-is beneath Aoi’s soft murmuring, tattooing Uruha’s flesh with veiled confessions.

And Uruha doesn’t know – his eyes are already rolling back, his shoulder blades are already ripping apart, and his spine is already coiled around Aoi’s fingers so fucking tight he’ll never unwound. He doesn’t know, but he seizes Aoi’s shoulders anyway as they shake into the little death, red blooming beneath his fingernails, and whispers into the spaces of Aoi’s heart:

“Me too, me too – ”

But not yet.

Because it takes a couple thousand stolen Marlboros, shoddily bleached roots, and fistfuls of cracking desperation – jutting ribs and rations of juice. It takes reckless courage lapped up from amber bottles to finally catch almost-Kouyou’s (but mostly-Uruha’s) callused hand and feel his fingers slip from his palm – before anything happens.

Because there’s a whole lot of not-happening in the beginning. A lot of scraped knuckles and broken heaters. A lot of Takanori tearing out countless pages of fashion magazines and taping them across their walls to hold in the heat during dead-pale winters. A lot of Akira cursing and Yune leaving.

And there’s some knocks on his door at four in the morning and some nights when he can feel Kouyou’s steady gaze tracing the patterns of veins snaking underneath his neck. Some lingering hands and torn lips from biting on words too hard. And one stolen whisper as Uruha curls around him tight like a warped crucifix that one night – later, not yet, but right then when the smoke is tangled in their dried out hair and the bus lights are off and shit-fuck, Aoi, I think I might – I think I always –

But now – right now – Aoi nibbles on the end of his cigarette, fingers stained in ash as he tries to grip all two inches of remaining nicotine, and glances at his knee being jostled by Kouyou’s as the younger throws an arm over the slumping headrest. The room is silent, contemplating, and Aoi gets three more drags in. He lets each one paint his bones black.

He sighs, white-gray tumbling from his parted lips with abandon, “Something with a G.”

Kouyou glances at him with a quirked brow, but Akira nods along, something sparking in his usually placid gaze, “G’s are rock.”

Takanori gives them an unimpressed glower, “How?”

“Guns N Roses.”

“Grateful Dead.”

“Gackt.”

“Shima, I swear to fuck – ”

Takanori slaps a hand to Akira’s mouth, silencing his low growl. He practically glows, swinging out his other arm, nearly knocking over the 8-track, and flaps it a little. The maniacal grin is splitting his face apart, “Holy fuck, I got it. I fucking got it.”

And maybe it’s the dim lightbulbs that keep humming into the spaces of their silence, the moth-eaten clothes, the cold take-out and crooked lines of kohl outlining their too-wide eyes, but Aoi finds himself lowering his cigarette – listening.

Listening and remembering this moment – of what the instant between ‘before’ and ‘after’ sounded like.

But all he could hear was Kouyou –

breathing in –

and then not at all.

And Aoi finds out just what Takanori branded them in a fit of brilliant insanity – just what name would line their banners and blaze-and-burn the backlights of a million concerts – later that night. Because all he can hear is Kouyou’s breathless laugh – his arm wrapping around his shoulder and pulling him close, leaning into the tender flesh of his neck in a night-drunk burst of this-is-it – and smiling wide.

And it’s the beginning, the first trip and fumble of Aoi’s restless heart, as he watches Kouyou begin to cradle the flame that would forever burn beneath his ribs. But Kouyou is louder than the skipped beat inside Aoi’s chest as he grips him tighter and muses over Takanori’s preening and Akira’s prideful smirk:

“What do you think, Yuu? Perfect, right?”

And Aoi smiled back, palms itching to reach out and cradle Kouyou’s grin closer to him – close enough to hold and keep because – because –

“Not yet, but it will be.”

.:.:.:.

A/N: It's been awhile.. I apologize for being so snail-like with my updates; this was a grueling semester. But! I have three other drabbles waiting to be finished in my documents, so expect some more updates soon enough :)

I hope all of you enjoyed! <3

drags self out of uni hidey-hole & 'clean/break'

colberry — Fri, 26 Oct 2012 19:33:23 GMT

Hey, guys! I feel like it's been awhile since I've updated.. I've been so swamped with uni this semester, it's been unreal ;A; Hopefully things will start to wind down now so I can write properly soon :D
Anyways, since it is almost Halloween, maybe I'll be able to crank out another chapter of All My Pieces? ~~(me, updating? shocking I know OTL)~~ I feel like that fic has become a updated-once-a-year-around-Halloween fic...

But besides that, there are actually some really awesome fics that reitukiaday is hosting over at endlessshowtime for their Reituki Halloween contest! Spooky fics are the best and there are some real gems over there so please check them out! You can vote for your favorite too, if you'd like :D

I do have an entry over there, so please feel free to read it! Horror isn't my forte, but I thought it would be a great challenge to myself, so I tried on my own pair of spooky-boots~ I hope you guys enjoy it!

Title: clean / break
Synopsis: He's peeling open, bones bent like prayers, "You need to wake up."

And Akira opens wide, like a star’s last breath, and Ruki can almost hear Reita’s skewered grin from beneath his skin: “come, come play with my bones – ”

pixel lips.

colberry — Thu, 06 Sep 2012 05:06:37 GMT

I've always wanted to write this certain idea..

It struck maybe a year ago and the plot still hasn't left me. I still open up the outline I created for it, add a little line here and there, and try to flesh out the characters and add in more twists, etc. Usually, I fot down a random plot idea, abandon it, return to it maybe a couple months later, read it, and then leave it once again. But this plot bunny is one that has always stayed with me, even through writing countless oneshots and drabbles.

So, I figured I'd give you guys a little peek at what has been floundering inside my head and maybe you can let me know if this is something I should really try out or not :D

Title: Pixel Lips
Description: In which Uruha dreams in Technicolor.
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha (..sorta), TBA (maybe slight Uruha/Reita...)

Premise:

Uruha is currently struggling with the post-traumatic stress received from getting into a near-fatal car accident. He has partly lost nerve function in his left hand and his mouth had to have reconstructive surgery after his lip was nearly torn off (he still has the faded outline of black stitches on the left side of his mouth, leaving him with a grisly, jack-o-lantern smirk). He’s wandering, aimless, his dreams broken and hanging crookedly from the ceiling, his guitar gathering dust and the mirror cracking whenever he peers in too close. He’s terrified to go near a car, much less drive one, and has been drinking himself into oblivion – drowning in guilt and self-blame because he was the one driving and he was, inadvertently, the one who killed the passenger in the other car. He was never charged; the truck had hit into the back of his car (with Reita inside), pushing him forward past the traffic light. But Uruha could still see the veil of death flutter over the other passenger’s eyes, their lips part in muted horror, as he raced towards them without control. Uruha never ventured to find the name of the deceased, too shaken and torn apart to ever inquire their existence. His life has now stopped – even though he is the one who survived.

Reita (who escaped practically unscathed save his permanently crooked nose), seeing Uruha spiral into a lifeless depression – eyes void of any spark or will to move forward and try again – orders him the newest innovation of robot companions: Apple PSC79 (Personal Service Companion). Reita figures that having a helper, a companion, that isn’t human – and therefore unable judge him based on his past or his appearance – will aid Uruha in beginning to move towards brighter days.
Uruha isn’t grateful for the thought – he lashes out, angered that Reita would attempt to disrupt his little safeplace of listlessness, and nearly destroys the PSC79 before it is even activated (the jagged scars of his anger are forever engraved into the metallic sheen of the robot's chest). However, he puts off breaking it apart or sending it back after he sees the earnestness in Reita’s eyes – after Reita whispers in the wake of Uruha's black-laced fury that he just wants him to be okay.
And so, Uruha finds himself being cared for – even if it is with a cold, robotic touch. The PSC79's mannerisms are stiff and straightlaced, frost slathering its every word and gesture (since Uruha set it to a randomized personality), at first. However, as the months drag on, the robot seems to become warmer, more connected to him, more human-like. It starts out with little quirks – remembering Uruha’s favorite meal for breakfast, having opinions on a show they watch together, having a favorite song – and culminating into something that suddenly has a tone when it speaks, has a warmth settled atop its frigid voice-box and it suddenly wants to do more -- to somehow be more there for Uruha. It recognizes the hurt that screams in his eyes and it slowly begins to reach for him with its pulseless, metallic hands.

Snippets:

#1 [beginning scene]

It’s been four-hundred-and-seven days, but Uruha can still taste the metal on his tongue.

Deafening silver screams still rattle his skull, glass ripping into his flesh, hands still braced against the dashboard as the world shatters apart. He can still hear Reita gasping beside him, reaching a hand out to him when it’s over – when the silence trickles in between twisted fiberglass – “Shima, you okay, still here?”.

The cold dread as he realizes he can’t answer, can’t get his mouth around the words, can’t stop choking on scarlet.

It’s been four-hundred-and-seven days and sixteen-hours.

But Uruha can still feel the bite of cold air licking his gums, the sickening wetness of dead flesh as his lip hung askew – crimson ripping apart his face. The way he can’t lift his hand to put himself back together, fingers numb and not there and fuck, fuck –

And how when Reita begins to coax Uruha to lift his head, his broken and trembling hands gently cradling his scarlet-rooted hair, his lips are already mouthing into the silence of Uruha’s ragged breaths: it’s-fine-just-fine, we’ll-fix-this, you’re-okay-okay –

It’s been four-hundred-and-seven days,
sixteen-hours,
and each minute brings back the moment when Uruha finally looked up - the blackened horror shattering – screaming – in Reita’s eyes.

#2

“Uruha asks for forgiveness when he sleeps. I always inquire why, but he never answers. He never listens.”

Reita stilled, a cold chill wrapping his spine as he stared into those amber optics, pancakes forgotten, “You… watch him sleep?”

The static silence prickled against Reita’s skin, the frigid whisper of not-right-not-this-time fanning across his chest. No matter how gentle its hands were as it touched Uruha’s shoulder to lead him away from the mirror, no matter how patient it was as Uruha slammed doors and uncorked bottles, Reita tightened his fist at the thought of that amber glow silently staring down his friend’s resting form from the darkness – waiting. Aoi tilted his head in an almost-gesture of curiosity, his voice a decibel softer, “I watch over him.”

Reita could feel his jaw tense. The cold tenor of Aoi’s voice box made the words settle into the air ominously, the wires and intel chips unable to grasp any other tone. Reita allowed a sliver of pity to wither in his chest at the thought – no matter how many words Aoi could learn and understand, they would always sound empty.

“He ordered you to watch him sleep?”

Aoi’s optics flickered briefly, “He asked me to lay beside him.”

Taken aback, Reita’s eyes widened, mind beginning to race – and thus missing Aoi’s fretful glance at his cold pancakes. It was absurd. There was no reason for Uruha to have Aoi snuggled up beside him – he could offer no physical comfort, all metallic and cold, and Reita blanched at the eerie notion of something staying in the same room as himself that was endlessly awake. He shook his head, a frown wrinkling his forehead, “You probably misunderstood what he ordered then because that’s… He doesn’t want that.”

"He asked me," Aoi looked up from the tepid food, a small whirr escaping him before he uttered as softly as he could, “He said please.”

- - -

:)

'i'm not a miracle.' - [Aoi/Uruha] 1/1

colberry — Sat, 01 Sep 2012 06:22:27 GMT

Title: i'm not a miracle.
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha, implied past Aoi/Yune
Genre: Romance, drama
Warnings: ...blatant blasphemy xD
Notes: Inspired by DRIPPING INSANITY and GABRIEL ON THE GALLOWS.

Synopsis: It's like purple wine and old cigarettes burning their gums; like Yune slamming open the door and catching Uruha's heated, half-mast gaze over Aoi's naked shoulder; like walls against their backs and drumsticks stabbed through their spines.

Aoi doesn't believe in God --

hasn't since the first hail-mary cracked his lips apart, fingernails digging into the knothole-ridden pew while his mother clutched at the back of his neck as if the entire world was nestled into the baby-curls at his nape;

hasn't since his father carved a star-shaped bruise into the wall and Yune whispered forget-me-please into his aching gasps.

But when Uruha arches into his touch, slathers sinful creeds into his bare hipbones and snaps his teeth into the marrow of his collarbone -- when Uruha grabs the headboard with both hands and shakes them apart-apart -- Aoi prays to the ripped sheets and shattered wine glasses (and Uruha's broken eyes) that he'll be able to reach into God's jaw and steal a handful of flickering stars to push into their chests and make them fucking shine --

"God-god-god, please -- "

Uruha always kisses with his eyes open so he can see the crooked constellations on the backs of Aoi's eyelids. He makes wishes to each vein and maybe God is somewhere inside the scarlet-purple lines that crisscross their hearts as fiberglass slices their parted lips and Aoi croons and begs and please-god.

And Aoi wants to believe -- wants to believe in every single hymn his mother had pleaded for him to sing inside the desolate pews -- when Uruha's eyes finally flutter shut as he thrusts in slowly-slowly -- "God, Aoi, hurry the fuck up -- I feel like glass; I'm not glass, don't fucking make me glass" -- and pushes in deep so maybe he'll touch the other's rapid-breathless heart. Maybe reach-reach and paint their moans with crimson-confessions.

Little confessions that escape him when Uruha bares his neck -- confessions that edge along the memory of Yune's glare and backstage whispers and walls shaking and forgive me, Father, for I have sinned and sinned and --

"I'm not going anywhere," Aoi promises when Uruha's hand crushes his after the elder lifts up and out, thighs trembling and hips sore as fuck. But he needs to see this -- needs to see Uruha spread out like a million shards of scattered sun before him, shoulder blades like knives as he lays there with glazed amber eyes, panting maw, and shaking chest. Sweat makes him glow and glimmer like all the novas in God's lungs. He lolls his head towards Aoi with a low whimper, legs splayed lewdly and navy makeup smeared across his cheekbones.

"You're a fucking mess."

A fucking disaster.

And Uruha breathes in, shudders, laces his fingers between the bite of Aoi's rough callouses and hisses like he has sharp fangs and shredded wings, "You made me this way -- you fucking made me like this."

Aoi leans down, slams their chests together so he can feel the painful gasp against his flesh as his cock slips back inside Uruha's awaiting moans. It's like purple wine and old cigarettes burning their gums; like Yune slamming open the door and catching Uruha's heated half-mast gaze over Aoi's naked shoulder; like walls against their backs and drumsticks stabbed through their spines.

"You were always like this."

Uruha tries to curve into Aoi's disastrous touch, tries to unravel and fall apart and maybe touch his throbbing lips to Aoi's jugular. But Aoi is pushing him down, chest-to-chest, and sinks his teeth into the underside of his jaw as the other bucks and snaps and snarls. Little pink-blood bruises that Uruha will smirk at in the mirror tomorrow with Aoi's hand lingering on his hip, gnarled fingers hovering over each freckle and scar.

Uruha mewls wantonly, legs wrapping around Aoi's waist, and tries to crawl inside the other's chest -- and he reaches up-up-up until his hands brush against the hotel bed's headboard, fingertips finding the cross engraved into the wood, and he melts into the sharp grooves. And Aoi thrusts and pounds and tries to ignite them both so these nights don't feel so goddamn dark --

"I don't believe that." He breathes, hips meeting Aoi's in a chaste hello-goodbye. And Aoi smirks into his flesh, head hidden in the crook of his neck. He snakes his hands beneath the younger, presses his fingers into each knob and crack of Uruha's bones, each angle of his shoulder blades, and tries to pull out the skinny wings that lurk somewhere beneath -- he can almost taste the black feathers on his swollen tongue when Uruha groans low and grits his teeth tight. And he pushes, pushes -- pushes until Uruha's back lifts off the mattress and they are both weightless in the static-electric air for a breath --

"Then what do you believe in?"

And when Uruha whines, Aoi's cock hitting each needy plea of the little death inside him, Aoi almost believes -- almost sees God in the way Uruha's fingertips tangle in his black hair, the way he presses closer to make them collide and crash and maybe fucking die --

-- pray for us sinners

And he's kissing him so hard, so fucking hard like it's the last time and something slashes its claws across Aoi's ribs and he grabs the back of Uruha's head -- fingernails snagging in the mussed, dark-rooted locks -- and molds his mouth to the other's quaking gasps.

Because please-god-please --

Because this isn't the last but --

But if it is --

Uruha whispers hotly into Aoi's mouth, bottom lip wet and trembling, "Not this."

-- pray for us fucking sinners

And Aoi grips him tight, sinks in as much as he can and stays there, and watches the stars break in Uruha's copper eyes.

-- amen.

:.:.:

A/N: I was listening to Disc 2 and this sort of poured out - it's been awhile since I've written in a stream-of-conscious state, so it was a really nice change of pace :)

I hope all of you enjoyed! <3

DIVISION.

colberry — Sat, 01 Sep 2012 00:48:35 GMT

~~this LJ is slowly becoming a Tessa's Review Time journal xD I promise I'm updating with some Aoiha smut soon!~~

So.
DIVISION.

I had my doubts . While TOXIC earned my respect through the VC tour / OMEGA, the album as a whole just wasn't my preferred style. I know there are many people who absolutely adored those songs - UNTITLED and TOMORROW NEVER DIES, especially. However, in my case, there was only one song that truly made my throat clench and heart hammer against my rib cage. So, when the news of DIVISION was released, I was highly skeptical (mostly to do with Ruki's insistence that this was a sequel to TOXIC) and avoided pre-ordering for quite some time. I was still hesitant when the preview of Ibitsu was released - it sounded like an upgraded SHIVER to me and, really, the only thing that started to pique my interest was DERANGEMENT.

WELP.
THIS ALBUM LITERALLY KICKED ME IN THE FACE AND MADE ME CHOKE ON MY DOUBTFUL WORDS.

Holy shit.

That's about as coherent as I got when listening to my copy (because those 30 sec previews on Amazon lured me in and made my wallet squeal xD). I literally just put on my headphones, tipped back my chair, and let this album do the rest of the work.

So. Here we go.

FRAGMENT [VEIN]

First off: I'm still flailing over this whole concept of separation in the album. It's just that little extra nuance that really drives this work forward and sets it apart from DIM or TOXIC, etc. I love how Ruki thinks - nothing is ever simple and to-the-point. There's always another layer, another hidden meaning, and it forces the listener to think. Wonderful.

[Depth]

WHOA THERE. Totally not what I was expecting to hear first. That "purring" effect was really interesting - and then the ascent into this very ethereal, atmospherical music was so breathtaking. Just.. totally not what I imagined the opening would be like and it really fits in so well to the overall tone of DISC 1. It's light, filled with subtleties like breathy "pants" and low, underlying beats, all culminating into a flash of sound. I think this might be one of my favorite intros the GazettE has done. I'm usually not one for intros - I tend to get bored (for shame, I know), but [Depth] immediately grabbed my attention and held it until the last note.

歪

I had been listening to the full version of this song on repeat since it was released. I had to somehow distract myself from actually downloading the album and spoiling myself xD I've become familiar with all the guitar wails, the crooning of Ruki's voice, the driving force of Reita's bass, and the beast that is Kai's drumming, but it doesn't matter how much I've replayed the shit out of it. Ibitsu still makes me stop and listen. There's something about it that grabs hold of me - perhaps it's because I had such low expectations for this song and now, faced with the reality of how intricate it really is, I can't stop listening to it, haha. When the preview first came out, I was convinced it was another SHIVER - and the PV did nothing to drive me away from that assumption. My immediate thoughts were: hackneyed chorus-verse-chorus, same old monochrome.
But now, I know better xD Ibitsu might not be the most complex or most breathtaking song, but I feel that it's arranged much cleaner than SHIVER was (or RED for that matter) and the PV ... omg the PV. We finally have different angles, different uses of negative space, different effects that don't resort to that shaky-blur camerawork. Ruki and Uruha definitely stole the show - both are really such showmen and their dramatics always make any PV seem that much more concrete. The other three are amazing as well, of course, but Reita needs to learn different poses and Aoi needs to keep his head up more xD Kai - what a beast. That drumming. That hair.

Gorgeous - PV, song, and all.

籠の蛹

Oh my.

Kai. Write more songs. Please. Please.

I believe this is my favorite song from DISC 1. It's so gorgeous. From the very first chords, the soft warbling voices of the girls (the Gazeladies 8D), the fade-out into Ruki's timbre and that lone, keening guitar.. Dear god. And then the 'meat' of the song - the driving beat and the slow crescendo into something breathless in how it presses against your lungs.. It seriously touches each one of my vices.

I remember someone saying once that some songs in TOXIC fell flat for them because Ruki's voice didn't resonate as much as it did in others - and I understand that now. I feel like there is so much emotion in this - it just leaks through every note and harmony and solo. This is the kind of "light" song that will keep me awake at night, much like songs on DIM / NIL had. And there are so many nuances - an acoustic here, a break in voice there, a wah-wah of a guitar... I wish I knew more technical terms because I feel like everything in their arsenal was utilized so perfectly here.

AND I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE RETURN OF THE GAZELADIES. I seriously flailed when I heard them xD

ヘドロ

Good ol' HEDERO.

I was a little thrown with tracking since Kago no Sanagi seemed to not have that 'in-your-face', blasting quality that Hedero has and to have that abrupt transition was a little startling, haha! But Gazetto loves to keep us on our toes, so I guess that's what they were going for xD Just when you think you grasp the tone of the disc... xD

The first whispers of electro are introduced here and I think that was a good idea, rather than having it come on suddenly in DISC 2. Ahhh this song really has a nostalgic quality to it for some reason.. I want to refrain from using the hackneyed terms of "old" and "new" GazettE, but Hedero really does remind me of something that could fit alongside their older work. It seems like such a 'live' song and omg the chorus! So friggin' catchy that I found myself singing along to Ruki's "tadatadatada" immediately xD The little 'break down' / headbanging interlude was brilliantly done. All in all, such an awesome, fun song 8D

影踏み

This one.. If I had to pick a 'least favorite' on DISC 1, it would have to be Kagefumi. It's still gorgeous, but 'Kago no Sanagi' has already filled the flailing spot in my heart in terms of lighter compositions :)

The intro was something I didn't expect of the GazettE for some reason. It just seemed so different from their usual, 'ballad-like' songs. It was refreshing, a rush of something different, but still holding onto the roots that we know them for. And oh, the little break when suddenly all the noise just suddenly stops and it's just Ruki - absolutely beautiful. Oh my god. For a band that doesn't want to be known for Cassis, they seriously compose such beautiful light melodies that still have a soft bite to them - melodies that will be in your chest well after the song fades out. The solo - not sure if this is Uruha or Aoi, I'll never be able to tell by ear like some people xD - is wondeful as well. A soft lolling in the metaphorical waves that this song produces. I don't know why I imagine an ocean, but it's an image that immediately came to mind - the notes and harmonies like a gentle tide that cradles the listener as they wade through.. And those notes (I don't even know what to call them really - they're almost like breathy moans haha) around 4:10.. Just. Holy shit.

余韻

This was probably the song I was most looking forward to - my obvious Aoi-bias is definitely showing, haha. But more than that, the preview had faint traces of DIM and the slow loll of the instruments and Ruki's baritone.. just sliding, falling, and then suddenly the hard beats take over and it's just.. I don't even have words for it. I had learned about the true nature of this song before listening to its full version - how it was dedicated towards the March 2011 tsunami. And I think that totally changed my listening experience. There was an acute ache in each note, and the cries of the solo were so poignant that I can admit that I had to sit back in my chair and try not to tear up. I'm usually not one who cries at songs (besides birth in the death, but that's another story), but I think Yoin is just so utterly amazing. Ruki's vibrato, the orchestra, the sudden 'wave' of sound that hits your chest at the end..

Holy.

[Diplosomia]

Another ethereal piece. It's so calming, bringing the listener to such a peaceful place just before the chaos of DISC 2 rattles one's spine. And then it gets a little harder, a little more urgent, a little more like what's in store on the next set of songs. Diplosomia really connects the two discs very well - the correlation is unmistakable. Soft into hard.

Awesome, awesome, awesome.

FRAGMENT [ARTERY]

aka: the disc in which Tessa loses her shit \8D/

[XI]

I really can't get over how accurate this intro is in terms of introducing the songs on this disc. Hard, fast, electro, with a touch of chaos. I think the GazettE have really honed their style of 'dubstep' and it sounds so much cleaner, so much more 'them', than in the intro to TOXIC. And I don't think that's my bias speaking - it's not so all-over-the-place, let's-try-everything. It has a focused direction as the intro winds around the listener's headphones (by the by: Headphones - invest. It seriously makes all the difference, even if they're cheap iPod ones). I enjoy how it isn't too long - extended intros/outros get tiresome for me and I find myself skipping over them in haste, but XI does a great job of getting the point across in a timely, amazing matter :D

DERANGEMENT

OHOHO. This. Song.

I think everyone was losing their shit over this song. And when the extended preview came out, I remember seeing a good amount of interest start to wane, but I found myself even more infected by this new style of sound. I had been hesitant before, but the chorus was just so damn catchy that I gave in - I had started to replay the shit out of the radio-cut and spam the Engrish lyrics (well, what we all thought to be the Engrish lyrics because with Ruki you can never be sure without the official ones xD) on my twitter, haha.

I was seriously struck by how much cleaner the CD version was, which I guess isn't surprising since radio does garble a lot of nuances, but omg. There were things in the very beginning that I hadn't known about at all - and mother of god, just so amazing. The use of electro is pretty heavy in this song and there are many numerous forms of vocoding - but I enjoyed it immensely. Unlike a lot of mainstream crap on the radio, I think it was done very tastefully. It was for artistic intent and it wasn't overused. It drove certain aspects of the song harder than if it had been just Ruki's raw vocals. And omg his raw vocals are seriously astounding in this too - especially those growls. Mother of god. Poor Koron, having to randomly listen to that throughout the birth of this song xD But anyways, the instrumentals are spectacular - Kai is really fucking owning these goddamn drums. He manages to make every song sound so distinctly unique and I really don't think he gets enough credit for that. I have a feeling this is going to be a beast live. *A*

AND UM. CAN WE JUST FUCKING DISCUSS THAT PV? What the shit was that xDDD
I'm so squeamish when it comes to shit going on with eyes, so I REALLY DIDN'T APPRECIATE THOSE PARTS IN THE MIRROR, but I''m so fucking ecstatic that GazettE is dabbling in more "controversial" PVs again (rather than them all playing in an enclosed space, yada yada). But yeah. I just.. don't even know what I watched, hahah! And I had my volume turned up pretty loud so that static in the beginning and end scared the shit out of me OTL Not gonna lie, I was pretty much covering my mouth and whispering "what the fuck" throughout most of it xD

...I love it.

REQUIRED MALFUNCTION

OH. MY. GOD.

Hands down, favorite song on this disc (actually, it's a tie with DRIPPING INSANITY, but we'll get to that in a minute).

From the very first second, I was absolutely, utterly, completely smitten. I can't even tell you how wide I smiled - and all I could think of was "they're back". Not that they had gone anywhere, but it's a certain sound that I feel like we hadn't heard in awhile. The GazettE's notorious switching of tone and style within one song is something I feel hasn't been truly done in quite a while and to hear like.. 5 different styles in a span of 4 minutes was AMAZING. It was so fun to listen to, trying to catch all the subtleties and little add-ins in the guitars and bass.. And christ that chorus is addicting. AND THAT LITTLE "DA DA DADA". OH MY GOD I CAN'T EVEN TAKE IT. I feel like it had everything. A hard beat, a good use of electro, an anthem-like chorus.. fuck xD

And that's really all I have to say because the rest of it is just incoherent gibberish (asdfhjkjhgfdsa).

DRIPPING INSANITY

The excitement level for this song was right up there with Yoin.

And motherfuck, it fucking delivered.

There is something so powerful about this song - how it's hard right from the beginning, but has such a soul-gripping chorus. Many have compared this to UNTITLED, but I think DRIPPING INSANITY makes up for what the former lacked, at least in my opinion. UNTITLED was beautiful, but there was no bite to it - the crescendo was lacking for the big, chorus moment. DRIPPING INSANITY, on the other hand, has a chorus that strikes you right in the gut - it grabs something in you and doesn't let go and pulls. And dear lord those screams - so mesmerizingly haunting. I think I saw someone on tumblr comment that "these screams finally sound like something Ruki believes in". And I agree with that so, so much. Ruki's screams always jar something within me, but something about this song rattles me more than most. The fact that this is a continuation of sorts to Bath Room (my favorite song by them) probably has everything to do with it.

All the love for this song. All of it.

ATTITUDE

The 'least favorite on DISC 2' award goes to this song, but it's still pretty kickass 8D

Another holy-shit-this-is-going-to-AMAZING-live song \8D/ I'm always impressed by how much hardness (lawls) the GazettE can instill into their songs. That rhythm section are such animals in this regard - AND KAI THOSE DRUMS. WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU BEAST. I think my favorite part is Ruki's "Give me noise" - it's such a cool little lyric in the usual maelstrom of Engrish that usually occurs in these sorts of songs xD
That little break down refrain killed me though - I couldn't help it, I laughed a bit, haha. I was like, "Oh, Ruki. What is this." But in an endearing way lol. But yes, I love how this song showcases those background vocals from the rest of the band and I think that's going to provide such an amazing atmosphere for the GOD tour (the most appropriate acronym of all time, yes).

GABRIEL ON THE GALLOWS

Yes, hello, this is exactly the kind of tone I thought a song with this sort of title would have. And thank god because it seriously delivered. One thing I have to say is that they've done a great job of using electro in a way that lets the instrumentals still shine - rather than a focal point, it's an underlying current that propels the song forward.

I think this is an awesome final song to an album - it has powerhouse vocals and a wonderful chorus. It's not a "DIM SCENE", but unlike with TOXIC, I tried my hardest to not compare this to DIM. DIVISION is truly an album of its own and I might have to disagree with Ruki in how it's a TOXIC Part II because.. although I can pick apart some traces of influence, DIVISION has its own unique sound that I don't think TOXIC captured at all. This is GazettE in their element - they've experimented, improved, and refined themselves. And that is what's so amazing about this band - that they aren't afraid to do something out of the ordinary for themselves and once they do so, they strive to improve upon their sound - always.

Having songs tgat last an average of 4 minutes truly made all the difference. It gave the band time to include all the intricacies that makes their sound so distinct. This is a band that can impact you in 2 minutes, but can leave you absolutely breathless-what-the-fuck-was-that-omg-again-please in four.

For the sake of this not turning into an epic novel (it's at novella status right now, I know xD), all I can say is: holy shit. This band will always blindside me. Always. Please, do yourself a favor, and listen to this album. No matter what your musical preference is, DIVISION has something for you. <33

♥♥

colberry — Fri, 17 Aug 2012 09:28:05 GMT

You know, when I'm posting, I never really think about how long it has been since I'm here - or how I started out, or any other form of pleasant reminiscence. Unlike how I perceive most things (I live in a constant state of nostalgia, haha), this LJ - and writing in general - never seem to truly be touched by time. It just is.

Yesterday, two people had expressed to me that they have been my "fan for years". And I was seriously just.. completely blown away by that. I had to stop for a second, truly stop, and just try and register such a declaration. I am ecstatic that I have "fans" - as much as I write for myself, to hear that my writing is making someone smile (even if it's a ball of angst from time to time xD) is such a beautiful feeling. I don't think the impact of hearing someone say such a thing will ever lessen. Ever.

However, what truly made me sit frozen in front of my laptop for an absurd amount of time, is the fact that it's now been years. Plural. How. I never really thought about it, but shit, wasn't it just the other day that I was posting the next chapter of Violet Pulse? To look back and see how 'old' that story is now is so... odd. I never think that I've made a mark on this fandom - and it's not a blushing modesty, I truly don't see myself as a known entity - and to have a handful of people come forward and express that they've stuck by my silly writings all this time is so, so humbling. And amazing.

I don't know, it just made me think. And it made me go into my archive (which I desperately need to update dear god xD). And it made me click on my first story here - 'that's what you say when you're falling down' - and oh my god how has it been almost three years already? ...And just a sidebar, that story needs to be revamped so much I can't even look at it lol (though it does make me gigglesnort to know that my first story on here dealt with smut xDD). And then that made me think how many of you have stuck with me, how many of the same faces I see in the comments, how many new faces (be it complete newcomers or de-lurkers) I see come around, how I can recognize usernames even if our relationship doesn't really extend too far from talking through LJ comments. It's just.. amazing.

And I guess what the point of this little ramble (all my personal posts are rambles orz), is to just thank all of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you to those who always comment, thank you to those who always read, thank you to those who give this insane little writer a chance by clicking on the lj-cut, thank you to anyone who enjoys my work whether you comment or not. While I'm eternally grateful for any sort of feedback, I don't count comments, I don't count hits. So, when someone says that they're my fan or that they have been following my work whether I post crippling angst or ridiculous crack, I really can't believe it.

And maybe I'm just a sap - I'm totally a sap - but I just wanted to let you guys know that I kinda love the shit out of you all ♥

'crack in the ceiling' - [Uruha/Kai, etc] 2/?

colberry — Wed, 15 Aug 2012 04:42:14 GMT

Title: crack in the ceiling
Chapter: 2/?
Description: In which Kai promises him as he watches his eyes bleed into silver, “You were happy once.”
Pairings: Kai/Uruha, Aoi/Ruki, Reita/Ruki
Genre: Drama, romance, supernatural
Notes: For uruai's KU Summer Challenge :D

“How’s Ruki?”

Takanori paused in fiddling with the notebook in his hands, the edges of the paper already riddled with crinkles, and looked up with a risen eyebrow, “…He says hello.”

Kai rolled his eyes behind his desk with a good-natured grin. He absently tapped his pen along the spiral ring of his own notebook while placing his head in the palm of his free hand, amused, “Oh does he?”

Takanori hummed, opening the front cover to scribble something across the neat lines. The light scratches of his pencil filled the calm air of the office for a spell. Kai passively watched Takanori’s eyes cloud over, his hand gyrating against invisible strings; his penmanship slowly dissolved into a darker, messier scrawl – black, jagged strokes. The elder calmly waited, used to these pauses and breaks. The crisp sound of Takanori writing was a daily constant, something almost soothing in its consistency.

Kai had lost many loose papers, counter space, and exposed skin to the shorter man’s endless flow of words from those who were forever muted. The handwriting would always change – loping scripts to stark uppercase shouts, no two etchings were alike. Except for Ruki, who would always find a way to smirk darkly along the measured lines and spilled ink. Kai could remember the first time Ruki had growled at him – brutally shoving himself into Takanori’s hand as the elder was counseling him in this very same room, forcing the brunet to swipe out and seize Kai’s arm and tattoo a snarl into his flesh:

‘You can’t erase me.’

Takanori blinked, hand halting above the paper, and hastily read over the words that weren’t his own. Kai inwardly grimaced at the slow smirk working across his lips.

The younger man began erasing the chaotic letterings with a nonchalant air, chancing a glance at the psychologist across the desk, “Well, maybe more along the lines of ‘fuck off’, but ‘hello’ all the same.”

Kai nodded with a knowing sigh, already used to Ruki’s perpetual loathe of these (sometimes literally) mind-numbing sessions – and perhaps himself as well, but Takanori always rushed to placate those needling nerves, explaining that the other part of himself was actually quite fond of the elder, hence the constant teasing – and tapped a finger to his cheek in thought.

“Charming as always, then.”

Takanori merely grinned back cheekily and Kai had to wonder just how much of Ruki splayed across his friend’s mirthful visage.

Kai settled back into his chair, wincing at the wood’s sharp angles digging into his side, and attempted to steer this session back to its original purpose. “Have you told Reita yet?”

Takanori’s grin clattered to the knothole-ridden floor and was replaced by an exasperated huff, fingers crumpling up the gossamer paper once again. The furrow in his brown deepened as he twisted and pulled at the notebook’s innards. “Yeah, I totally took him out to a candlelit dinner and whispered into his ear, ‘Oh yeah, by the by, I have two of me in here and one of them is sorta cheating on you. Are you going to have the fish or the chicken?’”

Kai coughed, hiding his smile at Takanori’s mocking tone behind his fist. Ruki was bleeding through more frequently these days, coloring Takanori’s more submissive, quiet nature. It made for plenty of impromptu sarcastic quips at Kai’s attire and smirks that seemed to fit more comfortably upon those plush lips than the nervous smile that Takanori would usually send his way. It was promising – the blending of two souls that had been savagely ripped apart. Kai could only hope that neither would completely smother the other – that neither would drown out the other’s echoing voice – because despite there only being one body, there were two people whom Kai had come to adore.

It wasn’t always easy like this. There were dark nights and telephone cords wrapped around wrists. There would be frantic knocks on his door at every shade of midnight and wide, fearful eyes as Takanori’s knees buckled on his threshold, whispering that he couldn’t remember, couldn’t tell which one of him he was and “I can’t let Reita know, I can’t please, Kai, I can’t”. And there were hoarse, guttural screams as the voices would gnash their teeth against the younger’s mind and Kai would brace his own hands against Takanori-maybe-Ruki’s scalp and push – bringing forth the memories, the pulses of who he was – and the other would stare up at him blankly in the aftermath as his hands shook in those blonde-brunet-russet locks, eyes broken into amber and silver and whisper:

“Let me out.”

The elder twirled the pen around his fingers, deftly avoiding the chewed-up pen cap and fighting the fidgeting urge to tap out a melody against his desk, and addressed both men behind those amber irises. “You’re going to have to tell him sometime. It’s been, what? Three years? He deserves to know, Taka, and… maybe it would you figure out how to balance what you really want.”

Takanori sighed, sinking low in his chair. He rolled his eyes towards the crooked ceiling tiles before averting them to glare at the wall, “I don’t know why I go to these appointments when you tell me the same shit each time.”

Kai pointedly jabbed the pen towards Takanori’s slumped form with a teasing pout, “Because you never listen to me.”

The glare swiveled over to Kai. “Can’t you just take him to your back alley and implant a memory of me telling him instead? You can add some flair if you want – screaming, crying, breaking shit – ”

The last remnants of the elder’s smile fell, lips thinning. “Taka…”

The brunet snorted, digging his pen deep into the notebook – a jagged line breaking apart the pages. “I knew you’d be too chicken-shit, not after – ”

Kai closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, carefully, and willed the tightening of his throat to lift – but the prism of almost still fluttered in his chest and all the loose-gripped sanity along with it, no matter how much he had tried to keep it locked up tight all these months. It was slipping, slipping – the haunting whispers of remember-me-not and the sun-soaked tresses wrapped around his fingers; the beautiful feeling of burying his face into the cradle of that neck, listening close to every pulse and every smile that was hidden in the crook of his arm, stomach, hair, everywhere; and the crimson soaking each soft utterance of love because, because –

not real, not here, not –

“Kai. Kai.”

He jolted at the tight hold on his hand, the sting of Takanori’s nails sinking into his bones. A fleeting shadow of Ruki lurked within his concerned visage, flaring bright with every missed chance and chain that kept him bound and speechless. It was in the way his lips parted, the way his eyebrows knitted, the way he was almost too close, and Kai was unsure where the blurred line was – where Takanori descended into Ruki’s outstretched palms.

“Who – ?”

Which one –

The brunet shook his head, dark strands falling into his narrowed eyes, “It doesn’t matter, I’m sorry. Both of us – sorry.”

Still clasping his wrist, Takanori-maybe-Ruki gently spread Kai’s hand across his forehead, the man’s heart-line resting upon his brow. His eyes fluttered shut as Kai’s fingertips dragged along the stray locks and taut flesh. Those trembles were so close – something that could be so easily shattered, something that had Kai trying to pull his hand away from the raw ache. But the younger man slid his fingers between the spaces of Kai’s, softly pushing them together.

Stroking his thumb along the back of Kai’s hand, over the slopes of his knuckles, between the rough bite of his calluses, he was hushed and gentle, “I don’t know why you do this to yourself. You deserve some happiness too, you know… You deserved it when you had it, Kai.”

A dry laugh escaped cracked lips, “It was nothing.”

Ruki – he was sure of it now; the soft growl lacing his voice, the seizing grip – pulled him even closer, breath hot on his cheek, “He loved you.”

Kai bit his lip, crimson coating his tongue, and hissed as he ripped himself out of Ruki’s hold, “He didn’t. Not like that.”

“Maybe, but at the end before you ripped it away, he – ”

“Shut the fuck up, Ruki!” The picture frames on his desk rattled as he slammed his fist onto the wood, breath heavy and eyes squeezed shut.

Kai swallowed thickly, forcing down all the words he could no longer whisper into that smile, all times he looked into those mirthful eyes as they lay intertwined in hushed promises and threadbare sheets (as he traced every worry line carved into Kai’s face with a gentle, calloused finger, ‘it’s okay, I’ll make it okay’) and wondered that maybe – maybe – maybe this could be –

“Just let me be a part – one small part – of your forever.”

Kai wrenched himself away from his desk, from Ruki – whose eyes held only the ghost of Takanori, too blazing and bright and dangerous. “We’re done for today.”

Ruki furrowed his brows, slowly creeping forward with a tentatively stretched out hand – wanting to comfort, to do something more than lurk behind Takanori’s soft smiles and shaking vertebrae, to do good –

“Kai, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to, I just want you to – ”

“You want a lot of things, Ruki,” Kai glanced over to him, eyes flitting to the trembling fingertips desperately reaching towards him. “And sometimes, it’s not enough.”

Ruki slowly lowered his hand, scarred palms merely grazing the bitter, looming shadows beneath Kai’s lost irises. His jaw clenched, something tight and horrible stretching his heart, the flames licking delightfully at his chest as Kai’s hissed words pierced his throat, “Sometimes, it’s not okay to want what you can’t have.”

The snarl felt so beautiful against his teeth – so goddamn gorgeous as it ripped Kai’s face apart, “Then what the fuck are you doing?! You fucking created what you wanted, you goddamn liar. You had him – you fucking had him!”

The stark slam of the chair falling back, the rustle of papers falling to the ground, the creak of the desk, the gasp of Kai’s lips as he grabbed his collar tight – beautiful. “You fucking threw it away – you fucking threw him away! So don’t you fucking say shit to me after everything you’ve done for happiness.”

His nails grazed the swell of Kai’s throat, “Why can’t I have that? Why does he get to have everything?”

Something collapsed in Ruki’s eyes – a flicker of a drowning scream – and Kai reached out to grab Ruki’s wrist to try and quell the chaos lapping at his veins, to drag Takanori back to here, “Taka, stop, calm down – ”

But Takanori was so far and away, even as his lips brushed against Kai’s ear, teeth snapping at his flesh, “But I’m here too – I’m right fucking here – ”

The sting of Kai’s fingernails digging into his wrist, his shaking breaths, his breaking pulse, surged forward to shatter against bleeding hearts before the soft, shaking whisper of: “I know.”

A harrowing silence settled on their lungs – stutter, stutter, breathe – and Ruki clenched his jaw tight, the raw burn festering beneath his skin. Kai shuddered beside him, fingers still grasping the hollow bones of his wrists, and the elder closed his eyes, an ache lolling between his ribs. “I know.”

Because he did – because he was there beneath the shadowed smirks and coy glances, along each broken murmur that would sometimes slip from Takanori’s lips as cheap beer loosened their clenched fists; the ragged breaths on his neck as Kai dragged the other home, the low and crooning pleas of Aoi-Aoi-Aoi – the way Reita would take the younger from his arms and gather him close, close because he was slipping, slipping –

– how he would bury his face in the warm shadow of Reita’s neck, his spine shaking in Reita’s gentle hands, and whisper wetly “not you, not you”.

Kai felt the younger man lower his head, brown locks tickling against his cheek, and pant into his shoulder. Kai let him, the sight of Ruki shattering into his palms – of Takanori swept away, like he never was, never again – still echoing in the muffled quiet. He mouthed broken words into Kai’s damp shirt, choking back the need to dig his nails into Kai’s temples and scream into his gasps, I’m just as real – right here, right here, so real –

And Kai didn’t want to break the strangled hush, didn’t want to untangle Takanori’s fingers from his wrinkled shirt, didn’t want to step back and watch Ruki watch him behind Takanori’s wrecked stare.

He didn’t want to give in to the ghost in his bones – to the sweet whispers to go back – go back and let him rememb –

He choked back the burn at his throat. “Tell him today.”

Takanori merely continued to stare, eyes still smudged with the ashes of dead wishes and mouth still parted with the last breaths of Ruki’s screams, while Kai lowered his gaze to the crooked floorboards. And it wasn’t right to give Takanori his back, to chain him to Ruki’s black words, to push him, push him – and wouldn’t it be so easy to graze a fingertip to his temple, to create what was missing, to make him remember the courage that was coiled around his ribs – to seal away the hurt forever –

But

But –

But Takanori was already turning away, already grasping those chains tight and letting the shackles sink deep into his mottled skin – the low growl of Ruki dragging across his aching throat. And he could feel the other’s gnarled hand laced with his, leading him to the door, forcing him to wrench it open with a sharp crack – his cold, clammy fingers pressed against his lips, nails sinking deep into his gums until his mouth was bathed in blushing scarlet.

The crimson droplets slid past his jaw in suicidal leaps, beautiful-horrible rivulets staining each step he took – each breath a garble of vermillion – and coating his fingertips raw when he later buried his hands in Reita’s bleached hair, drowning his frowning concern (“Takanori what’s going on, why are you – ”) as he forced their lips together in an stinging clash of gums and teeth. And the red seeped in, slathered across Reita’s tongue, rushed down his throat as Takanori slammed them both against the wall – picture frames and plaster shattering – to sink in deeper, deeper.

“Taka,” Reita furrowed his brows, even as he bent into Takanori’s chaste touches to the nape of his neck, tilting towards the open-mouthed kisses trailing his collarbone, “Why are you –”

“No, no – ” Takanori gripped the other tight, knuckles white as he bit into the curve of Reita’s neck and worried the pink flesh between his lips, reveling in the keening groans – in Ruki’s stifled, waning growls – and slid a leg between Reita’s parted thighs.

He pushed – he fucking pushed – coaxing Reita to spread his legs wider, to let him brush his fingers against the straining zipper, to be completely still as he glanced upwards, metal caught in his teeth. Reita swallowed at the smoldering flicker of ochre in his eyes, the caustic pulse of heat that beckoned him to bare his throat to slice red. And even as his fingertips drifted down to gently tangle in the thin curls by Takanori’s ear, he uttered to the hollowed gaze beneath Takanori’s coy leer, “Not when you’re like this.”

Takanori scoffed, tongue flicking out to lap at the zipper’s puckered teeth, and pressed his mouth closer so that each syllable grazed throbbing warmth, “Like what?”

Reita groaned with a lustful lick to his maw, throwing his head back at the feather-light teases drifting close-far-close. And it would’ve been easy, he knew, to seize those brunet locks and viciously yank Takanori forward and bruise his smirking lips – like he fucking wanted him to – but he could see something cracked apart in every shaking breath –

– the same something that would split open after midnight kissed their eyelids shut and the hold on his hand went slack and Reita would curl his fingers into the emptiness, not sure if the man draped next to him in those tangled sheets was anyone he knew at all as steely amber irises glared at him from beneath his tousled bangs.

But Takanori would come back in the morning light, legs utterly entangled with his own at dawn and nose buried in his chest. He would always come back and smile and tilt his head at Reita’s lost stare, eyes tracing Reita’s shaking fingertips as they reached out to touch his cheek in wonder – are you here – and would ask him softly, “What’s wrong, Aki?”

Reita gritted his teeth, knees trembling as Takanori slowly dragged his tongue against the fabric of his pants, and hissed lowly, “When you don’t look at me.”

A huff of amusement came from below his belt and Takanori gave a last, lewd lick before pressing a kiss to his aching erection, lips parting and breath sinfully hot. Another kiss to his hipbone. Another to Reita’s quivering stomach. Another to his chest. His heart. And his amber eyes flickered up to lock with Reita’s own helpless stare, hands tugging at his hips to roll into his, claws sinking into the wicked friction, and smirked wanly, “I’m looking right at you.”

Drowning in shallow breaths, crooked hands catching his lips and legs vilely splayed against the cracked molding of these walls, Reita cradled Takanori’s jaw in his callused hands – he swept the stray brunet strands sticking to his plush, sneering lips, and whispered into his jugular, “Are you really?”

A violent, twisting tug at his short locks brought him before Takanori’s sharp eyes, embers casting shadows against their fading silhouettes – the nails bit into his scalp, seared across every pore and goosebump and his knee rubbed at him so perfectly and fuck just a little more and just look at me and then I can, I – “What the fuck do you want from me, Suzuki? I’m right here.”

Reita struggled to move away, to rip himself from the hard glare of Takanori’s normally tender gaze because this isn’t right, no, no -- But the heat was pooling, stroking, lapping at their skin and Takanori was already shifting his hips so his bones would scrape every inch of him – would make him shudder and mewl into his slick mouth as he clashed their lips together again, again. It was like choking on acid, on a wondrous burn that singed his heart and pleaded with him to grasp at either side of Takanori’s zipper and shred the fabric apart.

The metal scattered across the floor, rusted shards sinking into their feet as Reita pulled them towards the awaiting sheets – still rumpled and strewn about from Insomnia’s restless hands. And Takanori’s mouth was hell – all brimstone and ashes and each press to his collarbone, neck, everywhere was laced in black creeds. The headboard slammed against the wall as Takanori pushed his shoulders up against the wood, straddling Reita’s waist and trailing a hand down to fist his throbbing cock, slender fingers curling softly against the flesh – thumb slowly grazing the weeping head and Reita couldn’t stop the whimper, the snapping of his hips, the hand that reached out to twine their fingers together.

But Takanori flinched, roughly pulled his hand away and dug his nail across the underside of his cock and Reita was left to silently gasp into the arch of his spine, hand still blindly reaching for something, anything, Taka – where – where – are you –

And Takanori was shaking so hard that he almost fell apart.

And even though Reita’s own hands were trembling, even though that familiar amber was buried so deep, Reita softly touched Takanori’s neck as he sat up and slowly leaned them over, lowering Takanori’s quaking form into the mattress. The drag of his erection against the covers was rough, like pinpricks, like Takanori’s talons slicing through him, but –

“It’s alright,” he whispered, and he was there, he was right there, pressed against Takanori’s shivering chest – real – and solid as the walls that have kissed their backs and slammed their hearts. He was skin and muscle and movement – and pain-pain-fuck – that made Takanori flutter his eyes shut and whine.

“It’s alright, Taka, just look at me – ”

But he can’t, he can’t-I’m-not-him-I

can’t

And the agony lanced through him, flashed into Reita’s eyes like desert thunderheads, when Takanori slipped away, away and suddenly Reita was nothing – nothing and just a mere wisp of prisms, anchored only by Takanori’s twisted hands on his hips –

“I’m real,” he snarled against Reita’s lips, and he sounded ragged, sounded wrecked, “I’m fucking real – ”

And Reita opened his mouth to say yes-yes-as-long-as-you-stay-stay-please, but he was falling and a rush gushed through him, throbbed through him, and there was red bursting behind his eyes – something sharp and sweet and horrible that made Reita lift and arch and twist like the cinders inside Takanori’s bones. And fuck – fuck – he can almost taste the black skinny wings ripping from the younger’s spine, but the younger’s shoulder blades were naked and were only shifting knives under his palms. But those hands on his hips were sharpening into claws, cutting into him and drawing blood –

red carnations because sorry-sorry –

and someone was screaming – raw and ruined – as he bought their foreheads together while sweet death brushed them both, and Reita threaded his fingers through Takanori’s damp locks as his breath shook because he needed to know, needed to, please –

“What’s his name?”

And Takanori’s chapped lips almost parted,

almost opened wide –

almost swallowed him whole –

Almost.

:.:.:

A/N: Holy shit, I updated...

~~I definitely like the second half of this chapter better, but I'm through tweaking everything for today so I hope you guys enjoy anyways orz~~

DIVIDED we conquer

colberry — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 04:00:26 GMT

So. It happened: the glorious audio previews of DIVISION have been released HOORAY!

Last year, I was determined not to spoil myself with TOXIC – I even went as far as blocking “the gazette” tag on tumblr to avoid temptation. I know, drastic measures... And I can honestly say that when I first listened to that album, the only song that truly made me cover my mouth to quell the squeals was SUICIDE CIRCUS - so all that waiting was for naught D:

So! I figured I would indulge in some wonderful leaks because the GazettE always seem to completely switch the tone and style of their songs within that 3 minute interval anyways, so what’s a little 30 second preview going to spoil? :3

The awesome thing about the previews this time around is that there are more songs (two..right?) that we still have not one inkling as to how it sounds, its style, tone, etc. ‘Tis all very exciting :D

A lot of people have been saying that this album is the lovechild of DIM and TOXIC. I’m just going to sit here, daintily cross my legs, and just stamp an “UM HELLS YES” to that statement.

The GazettE aren’t done tinkering around with more electro-sounds – including a heavy dose of vocoding. However, unlike their previous album, I feel that DIVISION harks more towards sounds that we know and love this band for. TOXIC was a complete experimentation, if you will, whereas DIVISION is a more focused mesh between the glory days of DIM and the new age of TOXIC.

Then again, this is just me sputtering ideas laced with my own personal preferences sooo, let’s move on to the songs, yes? \8D/

[XI]

I never really flail over SEs (intros/outros/etc), but XI definitely gives an accurate, albeit brief, glance of what this album is going to entail. Heavy beats, use of electro (and not just vocoding, but high pitched effects a la DERANGMENT), something veering off into a direction that follows the general trail of the previous album but makes its own path… This intro reminds me a lot of INFUSE INTO which makes total sense since this album is a continuation of TOXIC afterall. The little “dubstep drop” is very familiar, but not overdone. It’s more atmospherical than right-in-your-face-this-is-dubstep-okay?-okay. INFUSE INTO was slower, more methodical, whereas XI has a certain thrilling growl to it that I think will remain beneath all the songs on this album (sans lovely ballads).

GABRIEL ON THE GALLOWS

YES. YESSSS. This is what TOMORROW NEVER DIES *should’ve* sounded like, in my opinion. I believe this song is … last on the Limited Edition? If so, it seems to be an awesome song to end off on – something strong and hopefully memorable. I’ve already caught myself mildly headbanging to the heavy drums and chords so.. that basically sums up how I feel about it xD There are a lot of effects – a lot of filters, voice and guitar alike – and I can totally see what Ruki meant in needing headphones for this album. There are too many subtle nuances that can disappear without them. Although, unlike Ruki’s sagely (and expensive) advice, I think iPod earbuds work just fine :3

I was desperately hoping for this song to have a bite to it. The word GALLOWS alone inspires a lot of dark imagery and the last thing I wanted was a tonal fake-out and have it be a soft shiver than a wracking tremble. It’s difficult to discern everything in 30 seconds, but I think GABRIEL will snarl and be pretty awesome indeed :D

DERANGEMENT

I have many thoughts. Many, many thoughts. I was actually going to write a post the other day when the longer preview was released, but I held off and bit my tongue xD

I’m torn – I absolutely adore some aspects of this song. Absolutely, completely adore. However, I still believe that the vocoding is a tad unnecessary. It’s growing on me though, since I’ve listened to the extended preview about 50 times lol, but I enjoy hearing Ruki’s raw vocals more than layered effects. I understand that rawness is mostly reserved for lives, but I would love – love – to hear it in this sort of quality :D

Besides that, this song is so fucking catchy I almost can’t stand it xD The chorus has been stuck in my head all week, haha. I know everyone and their mother was excited for this song so I’m really glad its living up to most expectations so far. Those “weeeooo”s (or however you want to spell them lol) need to definitely go though xDD It’s awesome to hear them play around with sound. Many people are anxious and hesitant, especially after TOXIC because that album was so different than any of their previous releases, but I think everyone needs to realize that this is what the GazettE has always done. They have always played with sound – creating things that were unexpected, unmatched, by any of their previous releases’ standards. We all have our personal tastes, but in this regard, I don’t think the GazettE has changed at all :)

And we all know the PV is going to be kickass >8D

Dripping Insanity

Speaking of electro/etc-effects…. >_>

I was literally thrown with the first 2 seconds after the initial chords xD But I warmed up to it REALLY quick since the electro quickly faded to the background to be replaced with the raw instruments. Ugh yessss. And yayyyy the girls are back! I’m forever in love with the female vocals on all Gazetto’s tracks :D

Now. Is it just me… or does this sound like a harder (coughbettercough) version of UNTITLED? I wish I could phonetically write out the lyric in particular that echoes back to UNTITLED’s singing style to me, but anyways. I LOVE IT. It’s almost like a gritty lullaby – softer than I expected with such a title, but then again, it does produce a sort of dripping-like quality. The various notes dripping down and slowly melding together – electro, guitars, bass, drums, Ruki, female vocals. Sinking, sinking, until we have this utterly beautiful and darkly enchanting melody in our chests. It’s an absolutely beautiful sound. I can’t wait to hear the whole thing – I can’t wait to hear it live. Dear lord and Christmas.

ASDGFHJKJHFD

Anyways… xD

Yoin

The much-anticipated Aoi song~ :D>

This is where the faint traces of DIM that Ruki had discussed in SHOXX trickled in. Just. Holy crap. I’m trying to be objective here and find both strengths and faults in each preview, but I seriously love everything about this song so far. The slow instrumentals – like stuttering breaths – driving us forward while Ruki’s vocals break off into that beautiful falsetto for just a fleeting moment. And that slight presence of violins/etc lying beneath the surface. DIM, DIM, HELLO DIM. At least an influence of it xD And we all know how biased I am towards that album. But stepping back from that bias, I really do think incorporating this kind of tone really makes this album more dynamic. It’s layered. Complex. And much deeper than I thought it would be.

Also, I just would like to add something Aoi noted about this track:
“It's a song I wrote wanting to represent a viscous Japanese horror movie. … Japanese horror makes you feel terror for details.”

Exactly. Exactly.

He conveyed that aching morbidity so well (~~is this the same dork spazzing us on twitter omg).~~ There is a gradual, menacing build-up, a tension, a lingering breath at the nape of your neck. And it’s absolutely gorgeous.

Ibitsu

Alright. So, my first take on this song when we were introduced to the PV clip was: carbon-copy lovechild of SHIVER and RTU (but mostly SHIVER), alrighty whatever.

But then, when we were so graciously given that extended preview, I noticed all the little details that made this song become something more intricate than SHIVER. Yes, it’s quite basic when compared to the other songs on this album so far, but there is something there – something that I’m really, really yearning to hear more of. There’s always a “softer”, dare I say, “more mainstream-esque” song in every album (I consider The Invisible Wall and perhaps In the Middle of Chaos as these types of songs, though I love them to pieces). It’s basic market-strategy, really, but I believe Ibitsu has something a little more skulking within those major chords. I especially noticed it in the longer preview (rather than in this new album preview).

Rather than not have any expectation for it and waving it on by, I find myself wanting more – just like with all the others :D

Kagefumi

Oh, Uruha. It’s quite amazing that he can come up with this type of composition right alongside some of GazettE’s hardest, spine-breaking songs.

It has a Gentle Lie feel to it – a soft swaying that is quite lovely for a ballad. I wish I knew the technical terms for the underlying guitar picking, but I absolutely adore it. It's a raw version of that same picking UNITITLED had, I believe.

I don’t have too much else to say on this one since the preview leaves me with an “oh so pretty *A* ” impression. I’m sure the full song has a lot more nuances in store for us :D

Kago no Sanagi

The infamous “Kai” song that we’ve been teased with so much~

GORGEOUS. GODDAMMIT KAI WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL THESE YEARS. *shakes him*

But seriously. I love this more than Kagefumi in terms of soft compositions. The crooning guitars, the subtle drum beats, the non-distorted vocals, everything. I have this lingering feeling that a heavy drop was just after when the preview cut off… I could be wrong and I will be so undoubtedly pleased with this song either way :D

Jeezus.

Hedoro

I will forever glance too fast at this title and think it says Hetero xD

FUCK. YES. This song.. is going to be so fucking amazing live that I literally can’t even. Let me just throw all grammar out the window because this song oh this song sweet jeezus. The effects are awesome, the instrumentals are crisp and amazing. I can totally imagine them running back and forth on the platforms as Ruki props his foot up on his podium as per usual, haha. It’s such a playful rhythm/beat and it’s such a rush. Just. Yes.

I want to refrain from using the hackneyed terms "old" and "new" GazettE, but this song has a very nostalgic feel to it, in my opinion :D

Attitude

OH LOOK. IT’S THE CM SONG.

~~I laughed at this title when it was first released omg. I kept imagining a sassy fingersnap xD~~

It seems like this is going to be staple “hard” song of the album so far – which is peachy-keen in my book, holy shit. Gahhh it sounds really awesome – a little reminiscent of PSYCHOPATH with the backing screams for me, but that’s not a bad thing :D I might just be making these connections because I’m truly trying to see how this album is a continuation, a more complex “part two” and it’s interesting to try and see where those intertwining threads lay.

AND MOTHERFUCK THOSE DRUMS AT THE END KEEP GOING WHY DID YOU CUT OFF GAH.

Required Malfunction

Ohhh it sounds like a video game *A*

The little “woohoo” and “aha”s are really interesting~ This song is definitely riddled with distorted effects (and that pesky vocoding lol), but I think it works this time around. And, now that I know the entire album isn’t based solely on electro, I’m more open to the idea.

I think it’s this song that really encompasses the GazettE’s growth in this new direction they’re experimenting in. It’s more focused, less all over the place, less 'oh-hey-let’s-try-this-now-and-this'. It’s more polished and incorporates more than just the “new” sound. It’s a (so far) wondrous blend and it has me, a person who generally abhors electro (since I always see it overused and gahhhhh), panting for just a few more seconds of preview.

Overall:

I pretty much summed it up in those last few lines up there, but these previews have completely went above and beyond my original expectations. I was so, so anxious about pre-ordering this album (but in the end I caved because I have no self-control with these guys…) and I honestly had a really low outlook for it… Like, really low. Probably only because I didn’t want to be disappointed again.

AND I’M NOT, YAY! Of course, there’s only so much we can tell from 30 secs, but I really think this is going to be a solid album. It sounds very cohesive (and awesomesaucelikeholyshit) to me.

It’s not another TOXIC, it’s not another DIM.
It’s DIVISION \8D/

So! Tell me your thoughts! Your comments are always so much more cohesive and lovely than whatever I prattle on about up here xD
What do you guys think about the electro; does it bother you or do you embrace it? Is it not as bad as you thought? Has it changed your mind about electro at all?
And any particular favorites? I personally have to go with Yoin and Dripping Insanity, although I'm sure I'll be switching back and forth, haha. Honestly, there is not one song where that I feel "meh" over. SO YAY.

\8D/

'Telescope Eyes' - [Ruki/Reita] 1/1

colberry — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 02:47:26 GMT

Title: Telescope Eyes
Description: In which Ruki gnashes his teeth and reaches towards starve-for-glory dreams and Reita follows, beckoned by his glow.
Pairings: Ruki/Reita
Genre: Romance
Notes: This was originally for jrockurisumasu 2011 - and I forgot to post it here xD

:2001:

Ruki always had a way of kicking daylight in the face – inked-stained hands grasping at rays even as the mics from ratty hole-in-hell dives spluttered static. Sometimes he bit into the feedback, teeth white and spine poking through a threadbare shirt they’d sewn together from 100yen shops. He created his own light, even in the dim live-houses as the rest of them choked on dust-motes, little streams of sun flowing through his veins – bypassing the bruises of daddy’s-disappointment and fuck-where’s-the-rent – to bleed out his lips in gilded splatters. The burn ached in Reita’s chest as he swallowed each lyric Ruki screamed-lived-believed. He refused to sink into horizons with the sun, only dug his black-chipped nails in deeper – and Reita followed, beckoned by his glow.

Ruki lolled his head towards him in the aftermath, the flickering lights of the ‘live’ still echoing in his eyes – strewn across Reita’s ragged mattress they were forced to share each night as Kouyou snored in the next room. His lids were still smudged with kohl, endless black and navy smears that made his gaze snarl. His hair was still stiff from the impromptu dye-job in the dive’s bathroom, crimson streaking the sink and staining Reita’s fingers. The bassist shifted so he could trace the shadows on Ruki’s face, blinds drawn and electric bill still unpaid. The younger watched him steadily.

Reita made sure to commit this moment to memory – Ruki usually collapsing into bed right when the thirteenth hour bled into the sheets and leaving by morning, bestowing strands of gold-scarlet-russet like dew across the pillow.

But when he was there – like now – he was right there, right inside Reita’s ribs and cradling his lungs with fire-bitten fingers.

"If you could go anywhere – ?" He asked in a hush, the same question each time. His gaze was hidden in shadow, perhaps eyeing Reita’s blistered fingers, their stark ribs, and trying to remember why again.

Reita imagined tangling their legs together – wherever you are – catching a lock of crimson-fire in his fingers, but instead he kept his eyes locked on the ceiling.

"You first," he whispered back, knowing Ruki needed it. Needed to hold onto something tight and not let go until each word was a declaration, a promise. And Reita needed to hear him, needed to imagine alongside him the beautiful places they could reach with these gnarled fingers.

Somewhere, nameless.

Hours passed – bleeding into dark bruises beneath their eyes – and Ruki laced the names of cities into the gossamer sheets that bound them both tight. His eyes sparked, lips that were still tinted in rouge widening into a grin as he listed off every place he knew. It was only foreign syllables they couldn’t pronounce, awkward and farfetched in their chapped mouths, but it was still somewhere. It was still beyond this two-room apartment with its locked windows and their shivering legs.

Someplace where Reita shatters the stubborn hesitation to grasp Ruki’s hand, where the other smirks at him behind designer lenses in some gilded city and huffs, “About fucking time.”

But now – here – as Ruki whispered of Tokyo Dome and glossed streets and neon signs (that could sear their skin; make them forget) against Reita’s palms, voice rough from screaming lyrics on deaf ears, the elder wondered if those plush lips could feel his rapid heart beneath his skin – if he was swallowing each skipped beat.

And sometimes Reita had to hide his trembling hands beneath the ratty sheets – hide them or else he’d reach out and touch and never let go – because Ruki would fervently mouth “you’re coming with me, Suzuki” against his collarbone. He’d smudge his makeup on Reita’s skin and make them both glimmer in the gasp of night, voice fading into the blonde’s chest. There were never any what-if-but-maybe-nots because Ruki already knew.

He would remember why as he was struck with crooked inspiration at 2AM and start writing lyrics on his arms, Reita’s shoulders, crinkled receipts of meals they couldn’t afford – anywhere, anywhere (like always). He could already imagine the venues, the fans, the hotel beds that would keep them warm this time –

– and just them, together –

But then some nights were like this – Ruki’s warm breaths ebbing into the room, filling in the missing insulation and the snaking cracks in the walls, soothing Reita’s purpling toes.

And really, they’re just lost Peter Pans who were born to gnash their teeth and reach towards starve-for-glory dreams. Ruki’s suddenly just human – just nineteen – and not the divine being who shines so fucking bright when the dim, broken stage lights paint his gaunt face in yellow hues.

Not that deity who turns to look back at Reita as the lights flicker out, lips still pressed to the mic and eyes molten chaos – almost burning as bright as their stolen cigarettes – and captures him.

Just here. Just Takanori – bones and blood instead of pulsing sun; composed of empty promises and broken homes and desperate melodies.

And the most heart-pounding thing in Reita’s life – besides Kouyou’s run-in with the Yakuza and nailing every note in tonight’s live – was sharing his grandmother’s quilt to battle the frost of winter, staying up until dawn’s light listening to empty names and places; flicking ashes from stolen Marlboros onto the coverlet and connecting the burns into galaxies they can touch.

But it’s not all empty.

Because whenever Ruki swears he’ll take Reita along (wherever, wherever), the words are softer. Surer. The one thing he knows – more so than if they’ll have enough to keep the lights on this month or how to outline his eyes in perfect symmetry.

He takes the time to find the elder’s eyes in the cover of darkness – noir to brown.

“Where to?”

“Fucking anywhere.” – because Reita knows Ruki’s fingertips can even graze fucking Andromeda.

Ruki’s eyes were already far away tonight, already there choking the stars – and Reita poked him hard in the ribs to stifle the rambling words, to bring him back for one more mortal breath – to wait for him. He whispered lowly, “Fuck Dome, what about the Sun?

"…What the fuck, Akira?" Ruki cocked an eyebrow at him, eyes bemused as he peeked out from underneath his vermillion fringe. A flush rose in Reita’s neck and his heart stammered, caught. Because, really, what the hell was he talking about?

The Sun was right here.

"Did Shima sneak you some cheap shit from the bar?" Ruki asked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip as the absurd dive-bar schedule they had lined up passed through his mind – no time to mend hangovers from one of Uruha’s concoctions.

Reita blinked.

His head felt like cotton. He was too hot. His palms were slick.

And he might have an arrhythmia because his heart keeps skipping out like an old record –

"Maybe," he concluded.

And leaned in – because he’s not right in the head, not right and possibly-not-really-drunk and can get away with it, maybe – and kissed his neck, right on those faded black lines he helped paint on.

Ruki’s pulse was breathless.

- - -

– and sometimes he’ll nudge Ruki’s side in the studio, in the new apartment, in the backseat of a thousand vans, in the darkness of backstage-encores and ask with a knowing grin:

どこへ?

And Ruki will tilt his head, lips brushing Reita’s ear (hand sliding to his) and whisper:

どこも.

- - -

:Now:

“Where would you take me?”

The whisper was laced with smoke, grey wisps caressing Reita’s jaw as Ruki pressed his lips along his skin. The ashes were landing across the dip of his cheek, little forget-me-nots pulsing orange-crimson as midnight stuck to their bones. Reita swallowed, the younger’s hand – still criss-crossed with the scars of drumming, years of gripping mics and strangling Fate – finding each place that made him tremble, bury his hands in bleached hair and tug.

He mouthed desperately into the heat that fell to his lips, into each thrust and desperate shudder of Ruki’s spine: “anywhere, anywhere you fucking want – ”

Ruki bit down on his cigarette, more cinders dotting the hotel’s sheets, charring the rosebud design.

So everyone would remember them and revel in this glory –

Reita hissed as a few ashes sizzled against his chest, “Oi, I’m not your ashtray.”

“You worried I’m gonna set you alight?” Ruki murmured, smirk curling around the Pianissimo. He leaned down, hips snapping – igniting a spark in Reita’s dark eyes as he nipped his lip:

“You should know by now if you burn, I burn.”

Reita gasped, body arching into the sting – into the words on Ruki’s lips – and tangled his fingers around the damp locks sticking to the back of the other’s neck. Trying to keep him here because Ruki had always been so damn bright and hell if Reita would let him shine on alone.

His head fell back with a snap, eyes wide and whispering nonsense – “I know, fuck, I know, so don't fucking leave me here, just please” – as Ruki’s pressed open-mouthed kisses to his jugular, smoke curling against those faint freckles nestled there. Another drag, a flick of ashes, stars bursting across his skin – and Ruki quickly leaned in to catch his gasp.

The taste of nicotine flooded his mouth, wisps still escaping him as the sharp nip of Ruki’s teeth pulled at his maw with a wanton growl. Reita opened his eyes, watching the sweat shine along the curve of Ruki’s collarbone – feeling Ruki’s back arch beneath his fingertips.

The entire universe pulsing against his palms.

“Where – ?” He choked out, the hard slam of the younger’s hips against his own and the feather-touches to his jaw making him rattle apart. Each thrust was unraveling promises to mind the flames, making him press closer, closer.

Fuck – fingernails clawing shoulder blades, scarlet painting their lips and smoke stuck to their skin – just tell me where and let’s fucking go.

Ruki looked at him then, hands tangling in the sheets (in bleached roots, in Akira), breathless – blue-brown-silver eyes locking with his. His make-up was smudged, the last remnants staining Reita’s fingers, and hair a mussed halo of broken gold. Grey light wafted in from the parted curtains, painting their flesh in soft blushes.

Reita gripped the vocalist tighter, breath hitching as shoulders pushed against the headboard, “Tell me, Taka.”

Ruki leaned down, hand finding the one clawing at his back, and twined their fingers together. His lips parted, forehead kissing Reita’s own – noses bumping together and smoke hiding their shaking breaths, his smile.

“Right here.”

:.:.:

A/N: I can't believe I forgot to post this orz

どこへ? -- "Where?"
どこも. -- roughly translated to "Everywhere."

I hope you all enjoyed :) <33

'crack in the ceiling' - [Uruha/Kai, etc] 1/?

colberry — Fri, 20 Jul 2012 08:44:35 GMT

Title: crack in the ceiling
Description: In which Kai promises him as he watches his eyes bleed into silver, “You were happy once.”
Pairings: Kai/Uruha, Aoi/Ruki, Reita/Ruki
Genre: Drama, romance, supernatural
Notes: For uruai's KU Summer Challenge :D

:.:

Who do you want to love tonight, darling?

Her lips were painted in dark rouge, a sin away from decadent noir; stained and slathered as if she had bitten into a thousand hearts. Uruha could almost hear the lost beats still pulsing on her tongue, each last gasp of life that left her coy leer as she handed him the photo. Uruha knowingly smiled back while quietly imagining her teeth coated with dripping scarlet. It would’ve been beautiful, he mused while running a thumb down the picture’s edge, to have the red stark against white, her incisors snapping open his veins – to have something tear him wide open.

Uruha examined the photo, eyes already flickering with a shadow of silver.

Old and worn, tarnished sepia – something kept close, something traced with a fingertip over and over again. Scuffs marred most of the man’s features, but it was enough.

He flipped it over. Script; small and signed in a hopeful slant:

Amano Shinji.

Uruha gave an absent nod, turning the picture over again to study the hazel eyes and sharp angles of the man’s jaw and cheekbones. He was steel shards and dark aplomb. Tall. Refined. Attractive.

Unavailable.

Uruha smirked, lifting his gaze and noticing the woman’s lingering, wistful stare upon the aged photo. The lamppost shuttered above them – light, no light; here, not here.

He whispered as he walked away, voice like crushed glass beneath their feet and lost to the vapors in the frosted air, “Two hours.”

:.:

The stars were smudged tonight, smog suffocating every lonely streetlight. The lolling darkness sighed against Uruha’s hunched shoulders as he walked briskly towards the address he let the stammering bartender scribble on his palm.

The young woman had sputtered as Uruha, borrowing Aoi’s come-hither glow and raven locks, had cocked his hip against the counter and smirked. The natural drawl of Aoi’s tenor had fallen almost too easily from his lips, the quirks already manifesting themselves as he slurred the vowels of her name and hummed at the pink staining her cheeks. Dragging the address out of her only took ten minutes, mostly due to Uruha’s own haste as Aoi’s skin began to feel too comfortable, too natural, too his.

And the soft-spoken blonde must have seen the streak of panic in his eyes, colors shifting from noir to copper, as she gently touched his arm in concern, “Are you alright?”

He had flashed her one of Aoi’s more charming grins, the one that usually had the elder lapping up the blushing delight of waitresses and bellboys alike, “It’s fine. I just haven’t been feeling like myself lately.”

Uruha nearly tore Aoi’s face off – his hair, his smile, his midnight eyes – when he stumbled behind the back of the bar. The brick was slick against his clammy palms as he waited for himself to return, pleading and swearing and “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Yuu”. It was slower this time, almost painful. His bones jostled and flesh shifted – static rippling through every vein and pore as he braced himself against the wall. A slow shiver wracked his spine, rattling him to fall back into Uruha. And even though he could feel the bowed lips parted in horror, the slender fingers, and the sun-dappled freckles, his gaze remained blackened by Aoi’s touch.

Too close, too close –

And so when Uruha found him smoking outside his apartment, he almost stopped.

Ashes were falling from his cigarette, pleading their last rites into the stained slush at the stranger’s feet – black specks that almost glistened with the burning sins of fallen stars. Uruha watched the man flick his cigarette again, unaware – his lips chapped and eyes pale.

He almost stopped.

Almost – almost,
but ‘almost’ wasn’t here.

“Can I borrow a light?”

The man – Shinji, Shinji – casually glanced over, his gaze drawn to the unlit cigarette in Uruha’s awaiting hand. He politely ignored the slight tremble of his bones, not commenting on how the other’s knuckles were a ghastly white – how something awful-beautiful was collapsing inside of him; breaking, shattering – and wordlessly held out a black Zippo.

The flame was too bright and Uruha nearly closed his eyes to the burn, his cold fingers reaching out – slowly, slowly – and brushing against Shinji’s.

And it was a warm pulse, a lick of static across his flesh – a glow of embers – and Uruha smiled with hazel eyes.

“Thanks.”

:.:

Something was snapping, Uruha realized later when the stilettos ripped into his sheets and the nails clawed at his collarbone. The push of it’s not – not what you – not you was careening into the chest, the heart, that wasn’t his. Hazel eyes gleaming, lapping at the trails of dust from the moon, he watched her spine arch perfectly into his desperate grip –

“Rough. He’s always rough.”

Uruha knotted his callused fingers in her dark roots, forcing her head back to murmur against her throat, lips dragging across her shaking breaths, “I don’t know any other way.”

– the metallic crimson tasted almost perfectly sweet as he bit deep into her shoulder and melted into her low purr. The foreign piercing slicing through his lip was cold against their sweat-slicked pants and he dragged it slowly across the goosebumps pricking her skin.

It was broken headboards and white-knuckling bedposts. It was nips against his jaw, scarlet dotting his stolen irises, black night covering them completely. Uruha slammed her into the mattress, hips crashing into her own, reveling in her sin-soaked moans – the cracked syllables of a name that’s not his. He sank in, so close to growling love into her quaking mouth.

But when she let out a soft sigh and pressed her maw gently upon his – not his – and pulled him close, quietly kissing the corner of his lips, Uruha yearned to lean away, rip himself out of this body, break every light, and drown in the stranglehold of night, because –

Because –

But her eyes were so alight with the gasp of every galaxy he could name, drops of nova-dust clinging to her eyelashes, and it was almost all for him – almost.

And he forgot in the moment between the sharp clicks of her heels as she wrapped her legs tight around his waist and the purr in her throat as she crooned Shinji into his parted lips. He forgot and he pushed and he was so close, so close –

Because her eyes were the same color as –

:.:

And the sheets were still tangled around his ankles, and his lamp was in a thousand shards, and she was pulling on her shredded tights.

He basked in the sickening feel of his eyes shifting from color to color – unsteady, unsure, which one, which one is real, is him – and she shoved the crumpled bills into his chest.

“You’re such a beautiful lie.”

ii.

Aoi could taste the last stains of lust, the final gasps of slipping control, when Uruha collapsed against the threshold of his room - shattering the quiet lull of 4AM. The floorboards were soaked in slush, the other’s boots in a dilapidated pile near the door, and Aoi quietly listened to the deep breaths and mumbled sorry’s. His hand hovered over the doorknob, ready to tear it off its hinges and take hold of Uruha’s shoulders. Maybe shake him. Maybe scream and plead and you’re so much more than this and promise a thousand trivial lies into the midnight bruises beneath those copper-silver eyes.

But Aoi stood there, listening. Slowly inhaling a shaky breath, the vermilion and sandalwood pulses of sex and despair flooded him, filled him – swallowing some void right beside his ribs and heart. He wanted to stop, to pluck the morose colors from Uruha’s grimaces and muted sobs… But his knees shook and it was so fucking good. Beautifully horrible.

Aoi touched his forehead to the splintered wood, mouthing his own silent apologies.

Because it was always like this: Uruha stumbling into their ransacked apartment in the hours between night and dawn, nearly gone and just barely grasping himself, and Aoi frozen on the outskirts – drinking in the war-torn emotions flitting across his soul, the bloodcurdling horror that echoes in every shutter of his lungs. Always almost twisting the knob open and dropping to his knees next to Uruha’s curled up form, sweeping the sweat-matted hair from Uruha’s pale cheeks; almost taking his hand and pressing it to his chest to bestow him every beautiful feeling he still has stirring within him to give. Almost.

But it waits until morning when Aoi will scorch his tongue on black coffee and will mutter to Uruha’s vacant stare across the table, “You still have the eyes of the whore you fucked last night.”

And Uruha will grin, something that nearly breaks his entire face apart, “It’s just a souvenir.”

Neither commenting on how he can’t shift the color back.

Sliding his hand off the door, Aoi slowly backed away and made his way into the kitchen. The glare of 4:32AM greeted him on the oven timer, reminding him of the heavy weight dragging down his eyelids and the curve in his slouched spine. He paused for a moment to stare at the time with unfocused eyes, absently noting the stick of the linoleum against his bare feet, before he gave in and turned to grab a glass.

Aoi stroked the smooth rim in order to calm the nerves raging inside of him, the hit of Uruha’s desire and disgust still swirling inside his mouth, and reached for the lower cabinet. The bottles of sake, rum, and other strong vices awaited him in a neat line, a pale shadow falling over them from the kitchen’s dim lighting. Aoi lifted out Uruha’s favorite scotch and poured the amber liquid until it nearly sloshed over the rim.

And he tried. With every sip and every swallow, Aoi tried to forget. But he could still taste the aureate decadence of sin, the sweet sonnets of maybe-love, the gritting teeth, and the haunted anguish. It was a heady mix, a wonderful toxin that Aoi would have loved to delicately seep into because it was close enough.

Another glass.

Another.

And even with the burn at his throat and the tilted angle of his kitchen through his glassy eyes, Aoi could still remember. He remembered the yellow happiness against his tongue as he watched Takanori lace his fingers with Reita, of watching the younger walk away, of wanting –

He remembered the hollow touch to his skin, the dead emotions fluttering inside his chest, as Uruha watched him watch Takanori, and promised, “You can have him. Just for tonight.”

And he had chuckled darkly, throwing back his sake so hard that his neck ached. He turned to the man draped against the bar beside him, noting the tousled auburn hair and the empty smile. Aoi snorted, eyes returning to his dry glass, “Oh? And what makes you so fucking sure?”

He started at the fingertip ghosting against his hand and nearly tore away with a snarl before the younger man softly uttered, “I’m not sure. But if you are, I can let you have him tonight.”

Aoi glared, the red filter of the bar’s lighting casting a dangerous glow to his noir eyes, “Fuck off and don’t you dare fucking touch him.”

The man only smiled wider, almost excited at the growl lacing Aoi’s words and the radiating irritation he released into the air, “You’re the one who will be doing the touching, don’t worry. All you have to do is ask.”

Incredulous, Aoi whipped around and caught the stranger’s collar in an iron grip. He jostled him, jaw clenching at the way those bowed lips only smirked in response. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“It’s what you want.”

Aoi pulled him closer, his nails grazing the man’s throat, “And what do you fucking care?”

To Aoi’s sadistic pleasure, he could see the auburn-haired man start to gasp on the navy-laced anger that Aoi pushed into his chest. But he swallowed, a glint of sincerity – a glimmer of loneliness – in his copper eyes, “Because I understand. And it’s okay to want what you’ll never have.”

Aoi winced, wanting to turn away and leave – to close his eyes and pretend that maybe one day Takanori would look at him, really look, and that when he woke up with words written on every inch of his skin, they wouldn’t be Ruki’s confessions alone.

But he didn’t. He stayed and watched as the man’s smile softened, a hand reaching up to touch the taut tendons of his wrist, “But for you… You can have him tonight – I can have him love you tonight.”

He stroked his thumb against Aoi’s rapid pulse, “You just have to say yes.”

Aoi stared, unsure of what to make of the wry twist on the man’s lips nor the way his hand started to quiver. Because fuck.

He wanted.

Aoi wanted to know if Takanori’s hands could fit into his own, if he only smiled like that for Reita, if there was any chance – if maybe, maybe, Takanori could ease the addiction of tasting everyone else’s emotions but his own.

And Aoi was weak.

“How?”

The auburn-haired man smirked, stepping back as he was released from Aoi’s hold, and slipped him a card. The elder furrowed his brow at the address, but the stranger was already walking away – fading into the surly shadows of the bar and swallowing every last light with a final whisper:

“Two hours.”

Aoi found himself nearly aching with anticipation at the bar while he waited for the minutes to dwindle down. He scoffed at his eagerness and perhaps life-threatening stupidity for following a stranger’s odd promises. But his curiosity was piqued – the raw gruff of what if echoing in his ears, drowning the usually desirous emotions of lustful bar-goers.

Because maybe if he just had one night, maybe –

When an hour and a half slowly crawled by, Aoi pushed the money towards the bartender and let the door swing on his way out.

The address led him to a gritty area downtown – whores whispering sweet sonnets underneath streetlights and graffiti decorating every wall, sidewalk, and window. Aoi nearly gagged on the degrading auras that slunk past him, the decrepit resignation of every street urchin that lingered in the alleyways. It didn’t take long to find the apartment building – a dull pewter covered in the black scrawlings of society’s forgotten. The stairs creaked ominously and Aoi couldn’t help the morbid thought rushing to his mind as he glanced at the gaping holes in the plaster and the splintered mess of the banister, ‘This is going to be my tomb, isn’t it?’

Apartment 216.

The numbers were a tarnished gold and the ‘6’ was slanted to the right. Aoi stood there in askance, not knowing why he had decided to follow – only to be led into an underbelly, into something that wouldn’t sate him, but would perhaps destroy him.

He stood there contemplating, glaring at the crooked ‘6’, until he heard a shuffle from within. A slight scurrying, a quick padding of feet, and Aoi wanted to know, wanted to see.

Because maybe –

He knocked twice and held his breath as the shuffling came closer.

Closer, closer, and Aoi could taste it – the beautiful sin and relinquished control – just a little closer, and –

The door swung open to reveal Takanori – styled brown hair, small smirk, amber eyes, Takanori.

The smaller man folded his arms, taking in Aoi’s parted lips and wide eyes. With a chuckle, he stepped back, opening up the door a little wider, and mirthfully scolded, “You’re late. You better make it up to me.”

Aoi couldn’t – his throat was dry and his hands wouldn’t stop fucking shaking because this – this wasn’t, couldn’t be –

Watching the elder man slowly shake his head in mounting dread, Takanori’s smirk fell – mischievous visage softening with concern, “It’s okay.”

Aoi snapped, taking a rough step back, “No, no – I don’t know what this is, but I don’t want it, I don’t – ”

But he stopped, fucking stopped, because Takanori’s small hand was holding onto his wrist, the calluses of writing paper after paper rubbing against his flesh, and maybe this was real – maybe the stranger had let him know, talked to him, got him to see –

Takanori gently tugged on his arm, tawny gaze never leaving his frightened stare, “You want this and that’s okay. You can have it.”

The brunet lifted his other hand to tangle in Aoi’s raven locks, thumb caressing his temple. The taller man unconsciously leaned into the feather-light touch, the warmth, and Takanori pressed his lips to the underside of his jaw, “It’s okay like this. Just tonight.”

Aoi closed his eyes, tilting his head to nestle in further to the plush feel of Takanori’s mouth, wanting to memorize the beautiful curve of his smile against his flesh. And it was wrong – fucking wrong – but there was something beautiful in the tragedy of one starless night, of feeling the happiness still swell within him for something, anything.

Aoi sifted his hands into those soft tresses, fingertips dancing across the nape of his neck, lips hovering over Takanori’s quiet breaths – waiting, waiting, stretching this moment just a little longer so he can keep it maybe for a small part of forever.

Because Aoi had already fallen, and he didn’t mind plummeting even further. “Okay.”

And it was a wondrous blur of ratty curtains, torn sheets, hot pants, and wet declarations across clavicles. Aoi breathed in deep, trying to kiss every freckle that decorated Takanori’s alabaster flesh. The other moaned softly with every touch of his lips, sinking further and further into the elder’s grip as he straddled Aoi’s bucking waist. Hips snapped together, a beautiful cacophony of wait, yes, more and Takanori’s amber irises were aglow in the darkness. Aoi could feel him drinking in his pliant form, gaze unto him as he arched and mewled and dug his fingernails into the other’s shoulder blades to maybe rip them open wide and release the wings he always knew were there –

Takanori bent down to bite at his hipbones, leaving harsh pink reminders for the morning light, and Aoi could still feel tears prick his eyes – even as the sweet emotion of love threatened to overtake his heart, his fucking stupid heart – because he knew, he knew.

“You’re not him.” He was breathless, unraveling, needing to tear his eyes away from the image of Takanori lapping at his flesh, but wanting to keep him-not-him here all the same.

Takanori glanced up, tongue still pressing against him, heated gaze at half-mast and still beckoning him, “I could be.”

Aoi hissed, eyes squeezing shut as he arched off the sheets at the other’s skillful, patient touch slowly making its way to his ribs, “But you’re not. You’re not.”

And Takanori hesitated above his heart, hovering just above the frantic beats. Something flickered across his face – something Aoi would forever remember later when the apartment is still empty at the eleventh hour and insomnia greets him goodnight – and his amber eyes slowly faded to a dull copper-steel.

And he placed his cheek atop Aoi’s shaking chest.

“I know.”

:.:

Takanori-not-Takanori had tried to get him to turn away in the morning. He pleaded with him to not shatter the illusion, to gather the sheets and go. And Aoi wanted to. He fucking wanted to because he could still feel the fingertips tracing every part of him, the moans and gasps still fresh on his lips – the lies – but he stayed.

He stayed, even when he watched Takanori disappear – his hair lengthening to an auburn sheen, his lips becoming bowed, his face collapsing to become someone he didn’t know.

But he was still there – still in that warm amber hue and Aoi fisted his hand in the sheets when the other man glanced his way with those fucking eyes. “Who are you?”

The younger man shrugged, averting his gaze to stare down at the sheets pooling in his naked lap, “It depends.”

Aoi’s eyes blackened further, anger licking his spine at the nonchalance, and he growled lowly, “That’s not a fucking answer. You followed me at the bar, you led me on a fucking goose-chase into this hellhole and you wore my friend’s fucking face. Who the fuck are you?”

The man flinched, but he turned to look at him all the same. Aoi could see the amber slowly fading, silver beginning to streak across his irises.

“I’m whoever anyone wants. But I’m mostly Uruha.”

The acidic anger dissipated a little as Aoi felt a slight ache pulse between them, a desperate hollowness, and he let his fingers uncurl from the navy sheets. The silence loomed for a moment until Aoi couldn’t help but to crouch down and try to find those shifting eyes in the dying darkness, “Why do you do it?”

Uruha caught his questioning stare and smiled wanly, “It’s a chance for me too.”

Aoi furrowed his brow, frowning at the flippant words, “A chance for what? To be fucked?”

The other man leaned back on his hands, watching the chipping paint on the ceiling for a moment before he lolled his head towards Aoi once more, smile gone. “To have something, anything. Even if it’s only for a night.”

Aoi scoffed, “That seems a little desperate.”

Uruha smirked softly, “Aren’t we all?”

:.:

The bottom of the bottle was rimmed in a golden film, empty.

And Aoi was stretched out across the table, head buried in his arms – still remembering.

“We all get one night. And sometimes, when they’re fucking me, letting me fuck them, pulling my hair and whispering ‘I fucking love you’ into my skin – I almost believe it too.”

:.:.:

A/N: My prompt was "supernatural!AU bandfic" and so this is my first official time writing such a genre XD When I saw my prompt, I was immediately went "omg how do I do this D:" So, I hope nothing is too cliche! OTL

What started out as a oneshot has morphed into a multi-chapter monster - as you can see, poor Kai wasn't even mentioned yet! I'll try to get this written out quickly so everyone can enjoy some Uruha/Kai goodness :D

I hope you all enjoyed!
(major kudos to all three of my betas, including shadow_fictions here on LJ <3)

Oh! And just to eliminate any confusion so far:
Uruha: A shifter who is addicted to making "almost" become "something" by becoming everyone he's not (needs to touch whoever he wants to shift into in order to do so)
Aoi: An empath who is addicted to the emotions of others (can "taste" the color of emotions)

Even though Ruki was mentioned here, I'll leave it up to you guys to figure out what power he could possible have with the subtle clues I put in :3
Reita & Kai are coming soon :D

Gazetto, you spoil us..

colberry — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 16:48:10 GMT

I woke up today to find my tlist FLIPPING OUT WITH FLAILS and I knew - I just instinctively knew that PV previews were once again among us >:D So, I figured I would make a little post about it, since I seem to be doing that whenever GazettE releases something (and it's fun to discuss happenings with you guys :D).

The album artwork:
I would like to marry this artwork.
After Ruki's teasing tweets about it, I was practically salivating to get my hands on the damn thing, haha! It may be shallow of me to be so concerned with pretty/non-pretty pictures, but I really think album artwork sets the overall tone for what's inside. For example, you can see a looming, ominous gloom in DIM's art while there's a sense of almost streamlined electric with TOXIC.
I adore that you really can't tell what the artwork is going to be based off previous releases - everything is so completely different, from NIL to TOXIC. I didn't know if they were going to go minimalistic like they seemed to do for the word DIVISION's typography (which would have been awesome too), but I really do like the direction they went in. It reminds me of Alice Nine's "GEMINI" with the twins xD But anyways, the colors are gorgeous. The decadent navy and the flash of orange really draw you in and emphasize the twins' "division" amongst themselves (I don't think the 'staff' between them is even needed to get the metaphor xD). Awesome, awesome.

Tracking:
I must make a section for tracking because I'm flailing over how they divided (..pun? :D) the songs on the limited edition based off of "vein" and "artery". It's just another subtle detail that the GazettE always lace into their work that makes me spazz all over my keyboard. The term "binding site" is interesting for the PV section - and the fact that they placed it on the second disk as opposed to the third (i.e. the more traditional order). It just perpetuates the theme of DIVISION - how even the categories of songs are strictly separated. I wonder if the tone itself is going to dramatically shift... It certainly looks that way xD You've got nice, elegant kanji (including Ibitsu) on the first disk and then just a wave of utter CAPSLOCK on the third disk, haha! Rather than a complete switch in levels, I really hope that it's a crescendo - just building, building, rising until GABRIEL ON THE GALLOWS is shaking us by our spines *A*
Kudos to tracking. This band seriously thinks of everything~

PV Preview: Ibitsu
Alright, now to the nitty-gritty meat of things >:D
(and sidenote: it took me forever to figure out there were two PV previews... Gazetto, why is your site like a maze without an end~)
My first impression: Oh god no, don't tell me everything's going to be monochrome D:
Don't get me wrong, I LOVE black and white - LEECH is one of my all time favorite PVs (maybe due to Ruki's perm but shh) - but after getting the beautiful, color wonderfulness of Suicide Circus after the muted tones of SHIVER and RTU (Vortex is in its own category xD), I was really aching to see some flashiness. From the coloring to the song style itself (from what they showed us as they could be fucking teases once again and be revealing only the most 'soft' part of the song OTL), I was immediately reminded of SHIVER. I know~ it's not good to compare, but even when I closed my eyes and just listened, it was that same sort of instrumental/vocal tone. However, it has awesome potential - I could hear the growling of guitars right when it cut off - so I'm not writing Ibitsu off just yet :D
The look was lovely - everyone was sporting awesome hair (YAY for seeing Kai play with his new locks :3). Reita had his leather, Ruki had his suit jacket, Uruha had on.. something that reminds me of LEECH and omg let's keep this, shall we? Aoi had his typical charm and Kai was being amazing as per usual.
It's actually a good idea, in my opinion, to release both a "soft" and "hard" PV - especially given the whole, overall metaphor of "division". Maybe I'm drawing these parallels just from my own wishful-thinking head, but... knowing Ruki... probably not >:3

PV Preview: DERANGEMENT
ASDFHJKL;SDFGHJKL
That pretty much sums it up *A*
I absolutely love this. The colors were so stark and vivid, the beat was insane, and the storyline presented was deliciously intense. I think I've mentioned a dozen times on my LJ that I'm more of a fan towards GazettE's harder songs. And while DERANGEMENT is not the hardest song we've seen (omg just no.. at least not yet), out of the previews, it's definitely got more of a snarl to it. The only thing that I was iffy about, which I think many people are going to mention, was the use of ~~autotune~~ vocoding (thank you, Fii my dear~). It's not even for the fact that it is vocoding - I just believe it was totally unneeded. For VORTEX, I thought that splice of distortion was perfect for the style of the song and I really enjoyed how it was only used sparingly, making it that much more authentic. For DERANGEMENT, given the limited knowledge we have of this song, I don't think this technique is required and I really hope it's not overally featured...
BUT OMG THIS PV LOOKS INTENSE. I was like, "Oh my. OH MY WHAT IS GOING ON HERE." And I have to ask... is that the guy from Suicide Circus? It's probably not, but omg if it was, that would be the most epic continuation ever by connecting those two songs asjdlfdaghagrthy. The slow, languid shots of the woman on the bed (hello there ripped tights) contrasted by the shaking, jolting shots of Ruki is AMAZING. I love that offset so much. And is that blue velvet, Ruki? xDD
And we all know they cut the PV preview right before shit goes insane. FJDLGHDGFGJ SO EXCITED.
The color palette is pretty awesome as well - for me, it's like an echo back to the album artwork. Blue broken up by a more heated hue.
YAY!

Overall:
This gets me really excited, but not enough to buy the album just yet. I'm still too wary of buying another TOXIC and these previews didn't get my mind immediately off that train of thought. But, I know GazettE is harboring the real, holy-shit stuff for the album release and I know that I'm going to be eating my words come August 29th xD

So, what did you guys think? Was it what you expected? Were you disappointed/impressed by the visuals/songs? Which one is your favorite so far? TELL ME EVERYTHING. :DD

'Shear Madness' - [Aoi/Uruha] 1/2

colberry — Sun, 10 Jun 2012 04:19:37 GMT

Title: Shear Madness
Pairing: Aoi/Uruha, Ruki/Reita
Genre: Crack. Oh, the crack. And some romance :D
Synopsis: In which Uruha is a beauty school dropout and Aoi is none the wiser.

Notes: I figured I'd finish a favorite WIP of mine for Uruha's birthday and for the sake of not being too late, I'm posting the first part now! I was originally going to write something riddled with metaphor and soft tones and romantic auras and... decided this would be a much better idea :DD (that and I adore puns)

.:.:.:.

Ruki was in the middle of turning the page of his magazine, pausing just so to admire those mauve pants on page three one last time, when the ever-living shit was knocked out of him.

“Ruki!”, a desperate, barely contained glee-slathered hiss rushed into his left ear, “Ruki, Ruki there he is!”

Ruki would have loved to reply. Maybe something poetically eloquent with a dash of metaphor – he was an artist after all – basically boiling down to: I don’t fucking give a two-cent whore’s ass. However, none of those Shakespearean-worthy allusions and metonymies would grace his lips since he currently had an Uruha slathered across his back, making his chest squeeze against the reception counter.

The overgrown tumor on his spine tightened its grip on his shoulders, “Christ, look at him.”

Ruki offered a venomous growl from below. He could feel his coveted magazine creasing where his hands unconsciously tightened as he was bowled over. Fuck. Now he’ll never be able to read the serial number of those pants…

Uruha was still whispering incoherent sweet-nothings in his ear and with the last breath still surviving in his lungs, the shorter man grumbled, “Uruha. Move.”

The taller did just that, only to crouch beside his man-handled friend and poke his head discreetly above the desk. Ignoring the way Ruki was gasping for air while he attempted to smooth out the ruined pages of his magazine, Uruha hummed with wonder, “That’s the sixth time he’s paused by our window this week. It’s a sign.”

“Yeah, that we might have a stalker on our hands – again.”

Uruha rolled his eyes, “Miyavi was harmless.”

“He was psychotic.”

“He was passionate about hair dye – who can blame the guy?”

Ruki glared and opened his mouth to bite off another retort, but was distracted by the searing pain in his arm as Uruha suddenly seized it in a horrific death-grip. “Oh my god, he’s coming in – fuck, Ruki! I didn’t straighten my bangs today!”

Through the haze of anguish – arm forever branded with a bruise of Uruha’s grip – Ruki peered at the elder’s reason of woe and silently agreed. The humidity was doing nothing for the asymmetrical bang. Ruki held back an unflattering grimace. Not to mention the man’s roots were several miles long. But Uruha didn’t need to know that – Ruki’s arm was in enough jeopardy.

There was no time to appear less guilty – both hunched crookedly over the desk, eyes shiftily peering over the edge, Ruki’s face twisted in infuriated agony while Uruha’s entire expression was torn between mortified and perfectly gleeful – as the bells above the door jangled (a grating reminder of how Uruha hadn’t taken them down yet from Christmas…).

Uruha’s perfectly groomed nails began to sink into Ruki’s flesh. The object of the taller’s desire scanned the salon before hesitantly striding up to the desk, seeming a little cautious of the two men’s culpable position, and offered a gentle smile. The pain in his arm began to retreat to the back of his mind, dulled for the moment, as Ruki couldn’t help but openly stare at the man’s choice of footwear.

Orange Crocs. With socks.

Swallowing back the gag, Ruki forced his gaze upward.

And met a bedraggled poncho filled with deliberate moth holes.

A haunting memory of Uruha’s penchant for baby blue loafers and capris smacked him in the face.

Ruki deemed the two a perfect match.

“Can we help you?”

The dry baritone of the short man snapped Aoi to attention, finally tearing his eyes away from the look of crazy slathered upon the taller blond who was clutching desperately at the other. It seemed the lighter blond was apathetic or too used to the treatment to care about the bruising and obliterated circulation.

Aoi gave the pair a hesitant smile, “Um, hi. I’d like to get a quick trim if it’s not too much trouble – sorry I don’t have an appointment or anythi – ”

“You’re fine – it’s fine! It’s fine, right Ruki? It’s totally fine. I mean we’d let you know if it wasn’t fine, but it is definitely fine. You’re fine. Fine.” Uruha beamed.

Ruki closed his eyes and willed patience to grace him.

Aoi blinked, but accepted the outburst nonetheless and smiled softly at the taller man, “Oh. Well, that’s great, then.”

Uruha refrained from clutching at his heart as he took in that gentle grin aimed his way. Sweet baby Buddha.

As Uruha attempted to come to grips with being smiled at by none other than the object of his desire, Ruki continued to count little Chihuahuas in his head just like his anger management coach instructed. Feeling a semblance of tolerance rise within him, Ruki opened his eyes once more and gestured towards the sinks in the back with his free hand, “Alright, well just head back there and Shou will be with you shortly.”

The stranger nodded in thanks and found his way to the appropriate chair.

Positively sure their customer was out of sight, Ruki snarled and began viciously wielding his ruined magazine at Uruha’s head. “You fucking IDIOT, get your FUCKING NAILS out of my goddamn ARM!”

Uruha threw up his hands in a fruitless attempt to salvage his hair from the mauve-pants-on-page-three’s malicious slaps – already frizzed locks now thoroughly mussed (and Uruha doubted it had the casual just-rolled-out-of-bed-maybe-from-naughty-adventures appeal that he was going for). “Stop, stop! You’re making it worse!”

Ruki sneered, magazine rolled into a crumpled mess in his neon decal-nailed grip, “I’ll tell you when it’s worse than the holes your freakish bear hands stabbed into my arm. I look like fucking damaged goods, goddammit!”

Uruha shrank back, eyeing Ruki’s clenched fist warily, “Ruki, your blood pressure…”

The shorter blonde took a menacing step forward, ready to stamp the catalogue number of page four’s juniper fleece sweater onto Uruha’s face, when Shou peered around the corner with wide eyes, “Um. Which chair do you want me to put him in, Ruki-san?”

Ruki snapped his gaze to the wilting Shou and took a deep breath, releasing the mangled magazine. He waved an uncaring hand around, “Just show him to mine. I’ll be there in a second after I find the nearest first-aid kit.”

Shou hesitated, concerned eyes roving over Ruki’s exasperated form before nodding in sympathy, “Oh, for your arm?”

The younger man grit his teeth, giving Uruha a sidelong glare, “We’ll see.”

Shou dutifully scampered off, even after Uruha’s desperate, whispered pleas to “stay so there are witnesses”, and began leading their newest client across the room.

.:.:.

Aoi ambled over to the proffered chair, a small smile gracing his lips as he thanked the shampoo assistant and sat down, gaze already taking in the work station’s eccentricities. Skull decals, little scraps of paper scrawled over in doodles and an array of cigarette lighters were scattered in organized chaos. Several pictures were tacked onto the mirror as well – little snapshots that captured the shorter stylist’s scowl as he was squished to the side of various people, including the taller blonde whose wide smile made his nose crinkle and eyes squint with mirth. Amused, Aoi leaned in to see better – spotting how Ruki’s hair seemed to change drastically in every photo and how the consistently blond man couldn’t seem to smile without opening his mouth in a hearty laugh.

His eyes drifted over to where the two stylists were still loitering by the appointment desk, blinking away the water droplets hanging from his bangs. The scowling blond was in the middle of running a hand down his face while the other man kept glancing his way, cheeks reddening as he seemed to prattle on in hushed whispers. Aoi’s grin slowly turned wary, not entirely sure if the wonderful scalp massage would be worth the suspicious leer being sent his way…

.:.:.

“Fuck, he looks even better wet. It’s like he came straight from Atlantis, giving us mortals the gift of sight to gaze upon his glorious, chiseled physique.”

“If the sopping-wet-rat look makes your panties twist, then I suppose so.”

A glare. “You’re blind.”

A scoff. “You’re delusional.”

Uruha glowered, now properly offended, as Ruki retrieved a smock from underneath the desk with a muttered curse and began to walk towards the awaiting chair.

A look of sheer horror soon swept across Uruha’s face, however, as the fellow stylist drew nearer to the man he had been pining after for weeks – the man obviously destined for him because how many salons were in Shibuya? Thousands of millions. And it took something far more than mere coincidence for an earthbound Adonis to just happen to pass by each day (and for Uruha’s palms to get all sweaty and gross just like when he tried to unhook Ami’s bra in ninth grade and couldn’t stop thinking about Kenzo’s jockstrap the entire time).

And that was Fate.

Destiny.

Just like it was destined for Uruha to lean in close and softly blow away a few stray hairs from that pale, slender neck, his fingertips brushing against flushed skin beneath the smock as he turns oh so slowly to the right and accidentally grazes his lips along the other man’s ear – accidentally confessing in a coy whisper, “Your hair and my pillow are perfectly color coordinated.”

And, goddammit, he’d been saving that line for years!

This was his chance.

With an exasperated sigh, Ruki sidled over to his newest customer. His critical, amber-eyed stare took in the man’s unruly tresses as well as his casual curiosity towards the irritating photos Uruha kept taping onto his mirror. Ruki followed his client’s gaze, teeth gritting when he spotted a particularly irksome picture of a night where he had been promised that no drinking would be involved. The scarlet-cheeked, exuberant Uruha latched onto his side like a needy leech, hands stretching Ruki’s scowling lips into a warped smile, spoke otherwise.

“I thought I burned that one..”

Aoi whipped around, wet locks nearly slapping Ruki in the face. The catastrophe was averted, however, by Ruki’s years of experience with dodging Uruha’s numerous attempts to sneak bottles of tequila into his system. Recognizing the blonde from the front desk as well as from the prize-winning photo of the 27^th birthday party Ruki would rather block out completely, but still had the scar to prove it, the taller man gave him a tentative smile.

“These pictures are pretty cool – you and your friend seem really close.”

Ruki began unfolding the smock with a roll of his eyes, “Close enough to take out a life insurance policy.”

Aoi chuckled good-naturedly. Ruki did not.

Willing away the last tendrils of memories starting with the phone call “it’s a good idea, trust me” and ending with the text “with a stripper at the hospital – business, not pleasure”, Ruki shook out the smock with a detached air, “So, are we mowing the lawn or trimming the hedges?”

And Ruki would have loved to hear what the nonchalant client had in mind, would have loved to discuss how to get rid of irritating cowlicks and where to get decent footwear and the absolute genius of mothballs (and why don’t you try it?).

“Please-excuse-us-for-a-moment!”

...But, he was too busy being dragged away in an iron-nailed grip – too quick and sudden for him to get his footing, causing his newest shoes to streak against the freshly waxed floor. Ruki watched as the black scuff mark dragged across the pristinely white tiles, mouth gaping with insurmountable horror – mind flashing to the painful nights of scrubbing and power-washing and buffing until the cheap linoleum gleamed like marble –

“Ruki. You need to let me do this.”

-- only to be slathered, stained – scarred – with his own shoe polish.

“This might be my only chance and I know you’re too blind to see the red strings of fate here, but trust me.”

The irony was tart on his tongue and Ruki could only stare at the scuff while Uruha continued to tug at his sleeve.

“I’ll give you the tip and everything. Please, Ruki. I’ll do anything, anythi – ”

“You’re buffing that out.”

Uruha paused in his valiant begging, brow furrowing as he surveyed the noir stain across the floor. “Um, sure. I’ll sweep up and everything. Just let me do him.”

Ruki blankly stared.

“…I mean his hair.”

The floor was already a lost cause – a loss that he would be grieving tonight as he smothered himself with his pillow covered in Koron’s shedding – and was child’s play in comparison to the disaster that was suddenly looming on the horizon. Ruki tugged his arm out of Uruha’s gorilla-grip and made sure to look the taller man in the eye as he uttered firmly, “No.”

Uruha’s hopeful visage shattered, a pout already forming on his bowed lips and Ruki quickly looked away – and then away again because dear god that scuff mark is fucking huge we might as well paint the floor black – all too aware of his ultimate weakness for puppy-pouts. Every regretful night and aching hangover began with one. Many snapshots of those nights were taped to his work station.

Uruha reached for Ruki’s sleeve again, “Ruki, this is destiny! We were fated for this moment!” The taller blond dramatically clasped at his heart, “You’re denying us our fate!”

Slapping Uruha’s hands away once more, Ruki sneered, “I’m denying you access to anything sharp. You’re still on probation after the Kaolu Incident.”

“…It’ll grow back.”

Ruki ignored the sheepish whisper mercilessly, “You’re absolute crap with hair, Uruha. I stuck you in Makeup for a reason.”

Uruha bristled. He was not that bad – sometimes the scissors just slipped – and giving sweet-sixteen-year-olds a set of raccoon eyes was not on his path to destiny and wouldn’t grant him any breathless romps in bed with certain raven-haired gentlemen. Uruha quickly glanced over to his soon-to-be client, noting the quizzical stare the stranger was sending over his shoulder, wet hair stuck to his scalp in a sopping mess, and the blond made sure to smile back coyly.

“And I don’t need you dipping your pen in the company ink.”

Uruha snapped back to Ruki with a scathing glare, pleading forgotten, “Well, I’ll just have to let Reita know about all those pictures on your cell phone.”

The shorter stylist violently recoiled, face paling as his contacts glinted back sharply, “You fucking bastard. You wouldn’t.”

A diabolical grin stretched across the other man’s face – akin to the expression he usually wore right before the tequila was brought to the table – and Ruki grit his teeth. He had been carefully pursuing the delectable mailman for a month, slowly sizing up his prey as he inched closer to the final pounce. There were no red strings of fate in Ruki’s destiny, just calculated strikes, precisely unbuttoned shirts, and well-aimed camera-lenses. It would be any day now, the blond stylist was absolutely positive (given the fact that Reita no longer violently blanched at the sight of Ruki’s come-hither gaze as the younger purposely brushed his fingertips across the other’s knuckles when taking the proffered mail – or when he helpfully brushed away any lingering dust on his belt buckle).

He was so damn close.

Ruki growled lowly as Uruha continued to smile with a hint of malice, “I think it’s only fair for a man to know when he has his own photo folder on another man’s cell phone.”

There were two folders, but Ruki wasn’t about to burn the bridge any faster.

“I’m sure Reita will find it romantic, so – ”

“FINE.”

Uruha blinked as Ruki roughly shoved the smock into his hands with a grand flourish. “Cut the damn hair. Shave it off, give him a fucking perm for all I care.”

The elder felt himself shrink slightly under the heat of that amber glare, but grinned widely all the same – he had half a mind to tie the smock around his neck like a glorious cape and sprint over to the awaiting man with a proclamation of undying love and perfect highlights on his lips.

And they would embrace.

Uruha could already hear the uproarious applause, the cheers, the –

“Let’s just hope you do a better job than your root touch-up applicator.”

Uruha whipped around with horror-stricken eyes, his hand already anxiously sifting across the top of his scalp, “What?”

He quickly stole a glance at the unforgiving mirror beside them.

..Motherfuck.

.:.:.:.

A/N: Oh god, I don't know xDD;

I find that my crack!Uruha is always a little manic, haha. The second part focuses more on that Aoiha goodness (plus Ruki's wooing techniques towards Reita). I would've posted it altogether, but I wanted to be kinda-sorta on time for this lovely birthday.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this first part :)

'hazard' - [Aoi/Ruki] 1/1

colberry — Wed, 30 May 2012 22:16:50 GMT

Title: hazard
Pairing: Aoi/Ruki (one-sided), Aoi/Uruha (one-sided)
Genre: Drama, romance
Synopsis: In which Ruki picks up after the first ring.
Notes: I found this in my tumblr archive and decided to spruce it up a bit and post it here :D The next chapter of Lion (and All My Pieces, due to newfound inspiration) will be up soon!

i.

Aoi was never safe.

He's ghost bones, accelerators, and drops of arsenic.

Stark crimson stains his lips -
chapped and torn from smoking cigarettes too hard

and saying i-love-you's too fast.

With a chaste kiss to his midnights, he coils his heart tight along snapped strings and empty flasks, fingers hovering over familiar numbers (Kou-Uru-Shima) until there's not enough darkness left to hide beneath

His thumb slips, dialing the wrong number. But when Ruki picks up, it's not a rush of "never mind, it's not you that I -" -- Aoi presses his lips closer against the receiver and breathes in.

ii.

"You're so fucking wasted, Aoi."

"I can't let you, Aoi."

"I'm not him, Aoi."

"Fuck, Aoi."

iii.

Because he's the one who smashes his lips against the mic at impromptu moments and screams, static choking him - and making his mouth tingle with promises he would have loved to whisper as they laid there, tangled in those black sheets and short blond-red-brown hair and what-if-but-what-if.

And he would have loved to whisper into his collarbone as they both brushed against the sweet little death:

Taka - because Aoi knows what it feels like to wish and hope and count fickle comets for something that keeps slipping from your grasp, knows the younger is pleading behind his closed eyes and shaking pants as the world rattles apart - shima.

:.:.:

A/N: Ahh. Pining love is my favorite love.

I feel bad for not posting anything in awhile.. So, I have a couple of random drabbles in my documents that never fit into any of my oneshots, so maybe I'll post them in the meantime as I continue writing Lion (and All My Pieces). Hmm..

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this mini-drabble! <33

rawr.

colberry — Fri, 25 May 2012 17:00:36 GMT

It seems I will be working on 'Lion' tonight!
Thank you everyone who voted in the poll. I didn't think that many people would participate, but you guys always blind-side me :D
~~but this is good because 'Lion' is the only one that has an outline for the next chapter all ready to go >:3~~

In other, more expensive, news:

DIVISION.
I can't say that I'm not intrigued by this 3-disc wonder.. It's so deliciously suspicious.. But I suppose that's how they draw us in (and open our wallets). It can never be a simple album - there's always a little surprise, a little something that's unexpected. It's fun to see everyone try and guess what the second CD is on twitter. Someone noted that it could be an instrumental track or even a "part two" of the entire album (i.e.: these bastards are such fucking creative geniuses that they couldn't fit all the songs on one disc XD). I personally have no idea what it could be.. It seems like nothing is impossible with this band lol.
As for the DVD, I'm going to pick the safe option and say it's a PV. Some were guessing the full DECADE concert but.. I think we'd be paying about $170 if that were true XD;;

So what are your thoughts? Are you going to take the plunge and pre-order? Wait until previews leak? Sit this one out?
I don't really know what I'm doing yet. I kind of want to wait for a preview of some sort because if this is TOXIC Part II, I don't want to spend all that money for a style I don't really froth at the mouth for.

But, as always, it's oh-so very tempting...

wanted: updates

colberry — Wed, 16 May 2012 23:35:55 GMT

Alright, f-list!
I was browsing my archive today and thought to myself, "Shit, I really need to finish these multi-chaptered stories..."

~~and I noticed that each one was left off at a cliffhanger because I'm evil like that...~~

So, now that I'm on summer break, I'll have a bit more time to write (it's sad that I'll have more time in between a job and an internship in Manhattan than I do during the semester XD), and I would love to know which story you guys are most interested in seeing resumed :D

View Poll: I'm too scatter-brained to make a decision for myself, so:

I didn't even know LJ had a poll feature *A*
Anyways, let me know what you guys think! No matter what, each piece is long overdue for a chapter ^^;

*skedaddles off into the night*

OMEGA [commentary o' flails]

colberry — Sun, 13 May 2012 02:07:10 GMT

When I looked back at what I wrote… I really wanted to edit it.
I wanted to form coherent sentences and take out all the capslock.
But then I stopped myself and let it be – because this is who I truly am beneath all the fluffy metaphors and poetic little allusions: an incoherent, synonym-abusing fangirl XD
Plus, it’s quite entertaining to see myself dissolve into gibberish as the DVD went on. …

…I did edit the spelling errors because sweet god I really just forgot all grammar control at one point, haha. I hope you guys find this amusing (please don't expect my usual standard of writing for this lmao) and I would attach gifs for references, but I don't want to spoil anyone! So, if you are wondering what the hell I'm talking about, just ask and I'll make/find a gif of it :D

ONWARDS!

***

If anyone remembers my post in regards to TOXIC, then you remember how I wasn’t the biggest fan of the album. I appreciated it for what it was, but I was always more drawn to the more atmospherical, moodier style of music that DIM offered. However, I did point out that I thought TOXIC was a “live” album – that the songs would be amazing when they were performed for an audience, creating a hard, fast, and breathless concert. So, I purchased OMEGA with that in mind – plus I had to see some amazing holy shit new songs played live goodness – and since I can’t contain all my flails on my first viewing, I figured I’d write a little commentary (full of flails).

Mind you, I was doing a mountain of laundry in between watching (oh the woes of returning home from uni) so I had ample time to collect myself after … certain … songs.

Not that it helped :3

Disc 1

INFUSE INTO

I remember how skittish I was when I heard from those who listened to the album leak that the intro song was similar to “dub-step”. More like.. “GazettE does dub-step”. However, I see now that it really fits seamlessly into the overall tone of the album and I’ve been wondering what it’d be like live. I didn’t imagine they would use it as their SE though *A*

Holy goodness, the video is so awesome. It’s like an inverted Tokyo.. You know, I have to say that Ruki can really have an eye for certain artistic imagery (I’m assuming he’s the one who oversaw this design and whatnot). There are quite a few misses in his arsenal (such as compiling every random image in existence onto tour t-shirts…), but, in general, he really does have a knack for design.

God, I’m so happy they have their video screens back. I really missed that in Tokyo Dome.

Their entrances are always so epic though – especially Aoi, that showman… :3

Venomous Spider’s Web

THIS SONG is the best song to open this concert, dear god. I never appreciated it as much as I am before this moment. It immediately sets the tone – it’s going to be hard, fast, unforgiving. Uruha’s already making his :3 faces and Aoi’s about to break his neck in the first few head-banging riffs (god, those sinful hipsss).

I adore how Ruki’s clapping to the beat – he’s already so interactive with the audience and the live itself. He’s usually stuck to that platform like friggin’ glue – which is amusing but at the same time it’s like “c’mon you have all that stage to work with" – but he’s finally found his ability to strut around with this live XD

Aoi.. that tongue..
Crotch-shot-cam :P
These are the most random images on the video screen – spaceship cartoon, eyes, teeth, field, random squiggles…
The above-shot on Kai’s drums is AMAZING.
Everything bathed in red … it’s like a dirty promise :D

Sludgy Cult

-- One of my personal favorites off the album
-- Immediately, the tone of this concert is different than Tokyo Dome. With TD, you could feel the nerves, how big this moment was, and it showed in their first few songs (no one really moving around, just trying to get the notes right and not toss their cookies on stage). With VC/OMEGA, it’s purely excitement and fun as they return to an arena that they’ve played before in the past.
-- Ruki’s hair – it’s a beautiful and utter mess XD It goes perfectly with his "fists have kissed my eyes" makeup
-- I like Ruki’s suit more than I thought I would though. When I saw the screenshots I was like “lol no”, but it’s not too bad. He’s really taking on the suit’s persona which is just divine~
-- AOI’S HIPS SWEET JESUS. WHAT ARE THESE DANCE MOVES.
-- Still not over how Ruki is actually moving around and not stuck to the platform (or just circling it only to return to propping his foot on it). He’s actually playing around with the audience straight out the gate. It usually takes a little longer for him to warm up. I like this~
-- Ruki and the guardrail. Again. There’s something about Yokohama…
-- Showing Kai’s feet as he’s drumming is AMAZING. Why didn’t we think of this sooner?! (sidenote: I really do love how this is being filmed in comparison to TD. I get that the audience was a big part of TD – and the DVD was perhaps trying to give sixth guns their spotlight – but DEAR GOD I didn’t pay to see everyone whipping their hair in the audience every 3.5 seconds! OMEGA finally brings the focus back to the boys, so I am very content with that :D)
-- Reita’s bass line solo is really killing me – he deserves more spotlight more often, seriously. The man has a way of incorporating his phrases so that you can hear those deep riffs above everything else. It’s like a rampant heartbeat.
-- Uruha, your hair is sex and then that moment at 7:50ish omg – everyone’s smitten-kitten is coming out in this live already…
-- …and your pants dear god. Gown-dress-billowy-what-even hybrid "pants". :|

VORTEX

-- Another favorite of mine and omg those cymbals in the beginning sound so epic AH THE FAILS I CAN’T
-- This live has such an infectious energy – it’s making me warm up to having energetic songs like this in comparison to DIM’s moody tone. It’s a live where everyone’s really letting loose, I think. When you see them having fun and throwing their hair around, you are compelled to do the same :D
-- Ruki has really improved in singing this song since Inazuma
-- AOI – THE DRAMATICS. I’ve missed his backbends ;u;
-- Those gloves are so bedazzled and I don’t even care omg
-- Yessss Uruha that solo omg. I love it. I fucking love it and Kai’s feet and Ruki and Aoi and Reita and ahhhh (it has really improved since J-Melo like.. holy shit)
-- THAT LITTLE KID IN THE AUDIENCE. YOU ARE AMAZING, MY WEE HERO. I love little audience moments like that, haha XD
-- Just saunter down that runway and casually swing a leg up on the guard rails okay
-- I’ve always adored these slow-down parts – it’s like taking a deep breath.
-- Aoi ! twirl
-- These are really awesome camera angles

Suicide Circus

-- oh god the candle, the infamous candle, the fucking candle
-- Longest break of all time sweet god. I’m like gripping my keyboard in agonizing anticipation. …I don’t get why we had to look at candles for 3 minutes XD; It made me think it was “UNTITLED” time.. but anyways:
-- This intro.. is so beautifully AMAZING. I was NOT expecting this at all. OMG IT IS SO HOLY SHIT AMAZING. Can I have this as my ringtone and life soundtrack? The genius of it all. Holy mother – this should have been in the song originally.
-- THE CURTAINS HAHAH I LOVE IT OMG AOI WHAT ARE YOU DOING HAHAH WHYYY. I’m all “oohhh” over the intro and curtains and then there’s Aoi. Dramatically caressing his face in some new-wave dance move.. Can’t.
-- This live is all about the dance moves (for Ruki especially), isn’t it? XDD
-- Stealing moves from your PV spot, Aoi-shi~ That delicious bow.
-- Reita, you fucking BAMF. The performance of this song is really making me realize his potential for badassery. We always poke fun at him for trying to be manrii, but he can really have his badass-bass moments >:D
-- Those are boobs.
-- Are these offshoots from the PV on the screen? They’re so cool! Another thing that should have been included in the original ahhh~
-- Can I take a minute and say how HQ this DVD is? Happiness~ I can pretty much see Ruki’s cuticles in action.
-- Everyone’s singing along ahhh IT MAKES ME SING TOO!
-- The camera angle behind Ruki is so boss.
-- Holy shit Uruha.
-- Ruki has such pretty hands. I want them.

DEVIL ON THE BED

OMG THE INFAMY OMG THE CANE
HAHAHAH
AHHHHHH
I would totally swing that cane and accidentally wham myself in the face. But Ruki is too swag for that sort of thing.
-- I take back my earlier smitten-kitten comment. THIS. is the smitten-kitten song. What was I even thinking before. Just give Ruki a bejeweled cane and it’s over. OVER.
-- I’m surprised security isn’t freaking out with all this guard-rail hopping lol
-- Holy shit.
-- I’m going to be incoherent for this song sorry
-- He pronounces “masturbation” perfectly, but continuously mangles the lyrics for Filth XD
-- Hahah! I love that moment where he’s walking towards Uruha with the cane pointed at him and Uruha starts backing up like “oohh no no, sir”.
OMG THE PELVIS-SHATTERING THRUSTS. OW.
-- oh
-- OH
-- OHHHHH
L;SADJF;WAJF;W’AJGA
-- THE CANE LICKING CAN’T COMPUTE WHAT
-- Who chose the curly "Joker" font for “Let’s have sex” omg XD One minute everything's just dripping with sexual prowess and then something like this happens. Never change, Gazetto.
-- Come-hither is just all over the place.
-- The audience is so close holy crap
-- omg that could have hit someone
-- HAHAH RUKI I LOVE YOU. THE HORNS AND THAT SMIRK.

13 Stairs[-]1

-- this is a perfect transition song; it makes so much more sense than UNTITLED. They could have slapped this song in the TOXIC album between the two and I wouldn’t have minded one bit.
-- …I had no idea what song was playing at first though.. damn these new intros XD
-- Just keep eye-fucking that camera holy goddamn shit
-- That initial guitar-screech is so… sweet jeezus it gives me goosebumps and I just want to close my eyes and raise my hands above my head and arch my back and drown in it and okay I need to stop and just watch this ahhh
-- I love when they add new nuances to oldish songs omg. This live is the epitome of innovation (and not just because it has new songs, although that’s a pretty big part of it)
-- Oh lawl Ruki – what is this dance hand move XD But as an aside: I do enjoy how he always expresses his songs with his hands. Most performers seem not to know what to do with them as they sing. But, Ruki embraces every part of himself almost.. It would feel like something was inherently missing if he didn’t do these (sometimes ridiculous) hand movements.
-- So beautiful, those notes.. that vibrato..
-- AND THEN THE GROWL
-- I’ve always loved the ever-living shit out of this song and that’s why Uruha needs to make more songs always and yeah
-- Ruki what are you doing holy shit – it’s scaring the crap out of me hahahah. It’s like.. a robotic puppet zombie dance of death. Why. Ahhh stop but keep going because this is too amusing and slightly terrifying OAO
-- It’s always nice to see “crazy Ruki” slip through the cracks and reappear. I miss his craziness from back in the day (think No. 666 XD) sometimes. It’s lovely to know it’s still in there when he pulls shit like this lmao
-- THAT WAS SUCH A COOL ANGLE OMG – always wanted to know what Ruki’s face looked like while doing that windmill headbang :B
-- OMG THEY’RE SHOWING THE FOOT PEDAL FOR THE SOLO YES. That kind of stuff is so cool to me. I was practically drooling when they showed it for The Other Side of DIM. I’m always like “how do they dooo”. I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to things like that – all the technical cogs are so fascinating to me. How do they make sounds, how? xD
-- THAT GUITAR.
-- Sorry for all the caps holy-- XDD. I have a feeling that they are here to stay for this live.
-- That is suchhhh a better ending than the random screams of what even - thank god. Don’t get me wrong – screams are fantastic. But.. I’m not a big fan of those “deep from your very soul so it kinda sounds like you’re vomiting” screams that usually come at the end of 13 Stairs[-]1 ^^; Those last notes were so perfectly haunting. Absolutely incredible, Ruki…
-- Fucking amazing. This song will always be epic and gorgeous in that raw and aching way. Gah.
-- Ruki you have stolen the goddamn show and you have outdone yourself entirely. You have won.

RUTHLESS DEED

-- Not my favorite song on the CD (although the whispering was cool), but let’s see, shall we?
-- Holy crap these are long transitions… Gazetto is such a tease~
-- oh. Ohhh. OOHHHH. THIS IS COOL. FLASHING KANJI AND RUKI’S SILHOUETTE AND –
-- ;asjfklaejlgrejh;gje;gj;rejvb;devjdrgj
-- ALL MY FEELS I CAN’T HANDLE THIS AWESOMENESS
-- WHY DID I THINK THIS WAS AN “OKAY” SONG OMG
-- Uruha you have been so amazing lately. Everywhere I turn, you are just emanating all the quality in the world. Never change, please.
-- There are so many theatrics in this concert and I am so in love right now. This is renewing all my love. Seriously.
-- OMEGA is filmed really well. No useless fade-out, fade-ins. No over-concentration on the audience. Pretty much catching all the members equally. Yay!
-- Ugh, Ruki. Your whispering is doing things to me that I really shouldn’t write about and post for all to see D: … >:3
-- These video screens are seriously so beautiful. Those red rose petals (I think?) and those white clouds are so poignant and it’s really giving me my artistic fix :D
-- omg didn’t see the acoustic coming (such a beautiful crimson color too). That was a fast change dear god. It reminds me of how Aoi said Without A Trace is so hard to do live because of all the acoustic transitions.
-- I love when Ruki uses vibrato instead of screaming. It really shows off his talent and it’s making me melt just a tad. I showed my roommate several performances including DIM and she was subject to much screaming and I really need to show her this because I think it led her to believe that Ruki relies on screaming to get the notes out – which is really not true at all. And he’s one of the few V-Kei vocalists that doesn’t use that “v-kei warble” that Shin of ViViD is very fond of… >_> (plus, anyways, I think she was scarred a bit since she’s a Kpop fan and yeah GazettE a pretty big step away from that genre XD). We shall watch this when she comes to visit me next month. We will watch in absolute awe with some pomegranate liqueur and it will be amazing. Anyways~
-- I never realized how short this song was… I WANT MORE

CHIJOU

-- These transitions are amazing. I am so excited to hear this live ahhh!
-- Hand snake. Oh. And video snake. I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE, RUKI.
-- Kai looks good with lighter hair – I’m just noticing this even though there were multiple keyboard smashes about it made by those who went to this live, haha. The strobe lights distracted me from his honey-brown locks, I suppose~
-- Dear lord this is so sensual. From the winding dance moves to the way it’s sung… Killing us softly, don’t mind my drool.
-- Aoi… Aoiiiii.
-- Ruki doesn’t look half bad with this long hair – it’s definitely better in action than in screencaps. I wonder if that was all him? I have a feeling it was. (and I’m so glad he doesn’t have that ombre style ike he did at Inazuma orz)
-- aejf;waefj;ajf;w THAT NOTE (35:38ish)
-- Ruki is really working that vibrato and I’m sorry I keep mentioning it, but I feel like it’s been awhile since I’ve really heard it in a live recording. I feel like in TD, he was too nervous to even attempt it (I’ll always be bummed that the most amazing note in Bathroom was sung without vibrato – never getting over it D:). And then the songs in Inazuma didn’t really warrant it. So, hearing it used so much now is so amazing. AMAZING.
-- Fuck, I’m never listening to the CD version ever again. This performance is being ripped to my iPod. Now.
-- Beautiful ending omg. Just the fading echo of that guitar and cymbal. I’m running out of synonyms and adjectives over here to convey my feels.

UNTITLED

-- INFAMOUSSS SONG AND CANDLE
-- this is a really awesome place to put it though; the flow of this live is so fucking amazing. I have to say, the layout of TOXIC had me worried about future tracking choices. To me, it seemed a little.. messy?.. in the way that the song order was chosen. This live proves that I’m wrong as dinner is without dessert so yeah. It has never felt this good to be wrong XD
-- Ahhh, so that’s why we were shown the candles for like 15 mins before. Thank you, Gazetto. I totally understand now XD
-- But what if the flame blew out while he was walking..? That would have been so awkwardly hilarious, haha! Maybe that’s why they had about 5 candles lined up. Just in case ;)
-- I probably would have laughed if that happened. I wouldn’t have even been sorry for being a terrible person in such a moving moment :B
-- Oh, the background.. The stars and bursting constellations – oh. You know, you hear about it in live reports, you have it described over and over, but it’s so different to actually see it.
-- Those guitars sound AMAZING. Fucking amazing duo that they are
-- is that a clock behind Reita… lajfsa; No wait, I’m just being an incoherent idiot asdfghl;
-- Aoi has such a lovely silhouette and profile~
-- Uruha, you’re killing me. All those little guitar subtleties are brought out in this live and it’s so beautiful and I have no more synonyms. None.
-- Kai singing along… ;A;
-- THAT WAS AOI’S PART ALL ALONG? FUCK YES OMG. Please give Aoi more solos ;A;
-- That background isn’t cheesy at all. And it really, really had the potential to be. I mean.. it’s pretty much just shooting stars and ~*space*~. But it comes off as sincere; gorgeous.
-- The moon. omg. *A*
-- Just filter everything in that blue hue and you’ve got me hooked. I’m way too easy to impress, haha. But you know, I could go into the metaphors and allusions that this performance has, yet I’m sure you guys are already rolling your eyes, so I will refrain :3
-- I wish I could write more on this performance, but I’m too entranced to even form words.
-- Achingly beautiful. All of it. Not enough to make me cry. That ridiculousness in myself is reserved for “Dim Scene” and “birth in the death” (mentioning of Alice Nine in a Gazetto commentary? BLASPHEMY.)

AGONY

-- BACK TO BUSINESS.
LOL THE FAN WHO YELLED AOI IN THE PERFECT SILENCE AFTER UNTITLED - I CAN’T
-- These fans omg XD For a minute there, I forgot the insanity that we all share. That moving song almost made me completely forget. OH. WAS THAT A MALE FAN WHO SHOUTED “URUHA”? 8B
-- OMG AHHHH THE NEW INTRO IS AAAAHHHHMAZING. I had no idea what song this was until I glanced at the DVD setlist thing, haha.
-- I am a person who fucking loves change so this is just DIVINE. I’m floating around in ecstasy and.. I JUST WANT TO DANCE.
-- YAYYY WE’RE MOVING AROUND YAYYYY! THIS IS THE PERFECT "DANCE LIKE NO ONE’S WATCHING" SONG. Which is what I’m doing right now and I apologize for the mental image of that.
-- AHHH that fucking Uruki moment what fucking dorks hahah! Was it a coincidence that it occurred right at the line “did you really love me heartily - do you really call that love”? :3 Haha, I can hear Ruki’s laugh after that little synchronized head-bobble with Uruha x3
-- Reita that tongue XD You loveable (and slightly creepy at times XD) man, you…
-- Aoi, I swear. I fucking swear.
-- fjw;f;ewu;fwqe
-- YES AOI RUN UP THERE
-- AOI I CAN’T WITH YOU OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS. THAT DANCE. You can almost miss this golden moment if you’re not paying attention. It just makes it that much more epic.
-- Now imagine if Aoi didn’t have this flippy-tip pink hair and had his DIM-era hair instead. IMAGINE IT.

CLEVER MONKEY

-- Clever Monkey has one of my favorite guitar solo moments. Plus I love that Engrish “motherfucker” line. ONWARDS!
-- So much strobe-lighting OAO
-- LOL THE TEXT. Who is choosing the font?! XD This is like a textual seizure. SO MANY NEW FRONTIERS WITH OMEGA.
-- Reita, this style of bass playing needs to stay forever. Dear god.
-- *bows down to Uruha* That solo hits me in all the right places. I’ll always be amazed how fast their fingers move.
-- The water spittle makes another noteworthy appearance~
-- YAY! Uruha and Kai have a little duet 8D

VERMIN

-- All Aoi has to do is smirk. Seriously. That’s it. Everyone just dies.
-- AHHH AOI YOUR DIVA-MOVES AND TONGUE
-- You know what you’re doing, bastard
-- …On another note, the gun-play and furi for this song is adorable XD

*I looked back at my notes to see if I could add anything else, but then I realized that there was nothing left to say on this song. Those four things are literally everything you need to know orz*

HEADACHE MAN

-- I’m so fucking happy they played this. All my favorites in a rowww.
-- AHH SO PUMPED C’MON RUKI JUST START THE SONG SO I CAN FLAIL
-- That was an awesome angle of Kai. He’s really getting awesome-sauce shots at this live. He usually gets jipped a lot. It’s nice to see him getting some well-deserved attention.
-- Who doesn’t love this song? Seriously? In my opinion, it has one of the best anthem-choruses. Who doesn’t want to shout that they're someone’s headache? Plus, the other members singing along is always a wonderful and noteworthy plus.
-- I keep forgetting that those are wide-legged pants on Uruha and not a $5,000 gown. :L
-- Crotch-shot cam strikes again (in all the right places ohoho) >:3
-- I spot some color-coordinated audience members – that’s such a good idea in order to be spotted on the DVD. If I ever go to a recorded live, I’m wearing obnoxious colors. Neons. Yes.
-- I wish I knew the technical terms for the guitar techniques in this song. One of them is tapping, right? :0
-- The crazy-laugh is always so perfect.

Filth in the Beauty

-- Can’t have a concert without this
-- Aoi + acoustic = 8'D for me, smirk for him
-- I love how this song is all over the place lyrically with every performance XD It’s a constant. Just like Aoi’s smirk.
-- Kai is such a beast dear lord. Sometimes I just sit back and think of how fucking talented he is. He seriously puts his all into those drums. He’s so much more than the “smiling mother hen” that people tend to (incorrectly…) peg him as.
-- “How long, how long~”
-- You can always count on Aoi and his twirls lol
-- This suit makes Ruki look so slight. Those fans who poked fun at his weight are clearly suffering from a deteriorating eye disease because all I want to do is stuff that man with muffins.
-- And what is this new lip schmear Ruki has on? It’s quite luscious.
-- Oh right. The song. Well, it’s amazing. Of course.
-- Whenever I think of GazettE, this is the one song that always comes to mind :)

PSYCOPATH

-- This song reminds me so much of DISCHARGE (in all the best ways) – I thought it was playing at first XD
-- “psychopuss”
-- Aoi … OMG THOSE ARE SOME VIOLENT GYRATIONS
-- Uruha’s all cool and cucumber-like over on stage right and then there’s Aoi. COMPLETELY LOSING IT IN THE MOST WONDERFUL OF WAYS. Those moments are the best – when they completely forget about themselves and just lose their grasp on composure :D
-- I love the “circle lights”. The effects department definitely got some funding.
-- “psychopuss”
-- The rap, I can’t – AND THE SKIPPING AROUND THE PLATFORM XD
-- Another really short song.. I never noticed on the album.. forever leaving us hanging~

TOMORROW NEVER DIES

-- That… looks suggestive, Kai-san. Praise whoever invented that bird’s eye camera angle. PRAISE THEM UPON THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN.
-- Ruki’s mic-less “motto” <333 The clapping <333 the everything… <3333
-- So.. much.. Uruki .. *w* Ruki’s little “pshh this guy” gesture XD And then that smile.. sir, you are killing us.
-- I love this intro. I think I used the word “love” about… a bajillion times in this commentary. THERE IS NO OTHER WORD.
-- “woo!” XD
-- This pause is so awesome – it’s like catching yourself right when at the edge of a cliff, smirking, and then taking the plunge anyways.
-- Uruha & Ruki duet aww~
-- Uruha’s face the entire song => 8D
-- I always thought to myself that this song – as a last song on an album – didn’t have a big impact in comparison to DIM SCENE. It didn’t rattle my chest or give me “grabby-hands syndrome”. But, now I see how it can be big when played live, definitely.
-- It’s still a little “PSA-like” for me though… :/
-- OMG THIS IS SO COOL
THE SILHOUETTES AND KAI’S DRUMS
AND THEY’RE LEAVING
AND KAI’S STILL DRUMMING
THIS IS AWESOME THE SLOW DOWN AND THE RED AND OMGGGFJAWSJFW;EJ;FSEJOIGEJ;

That had to be one of the best first-half endings ever. Holy mother of goodness. Holy.

OMEGA
…This is terrifying.
Ahh, good ol’ Gazetto. You still have that knack for scaring the beejeezus out of me. Sleepless nights here I come~
THE EYES WHY AH. BLEEDING EYES WHYYYY.
THE SCREAMING. AH GAHD.
NOOO WHYYYYYYYYYYY THAT BOY'S FACE OMG THIS IS TERRIFYING NOOOOO
I love it.

Impressions of Disc 1:

That was utterly amazing.

I’m going to be honest – I was slightly nervous when purchasing this DVD solely for the fact that I wasn’t 100% in love with TOXIC and I knew this concert would pretty much BE the album. But, my initial assumptions were so fucking right – this album was meant to be played LIVE. It has such an uncatchable energy that you can clearly see in all the members as they play until their fingers bleed, sing until their voices give, and headbang until their spines break.

Ruki has totally and completely stolen the show. Just like how Aoi was the winner of DIM (with that non-shirt and chest-sweat-finger-licking and…), Ruki was the winner of OMEGA. I have never seen him so animated before. I think Tokyo Dome gave me the wrong impression of how he performs nowadays – their nerves can clearly be seen on there and it certainly affected how they presented themselves – but here it was so fluid and easy and amazing. Ruki totally won me over – I can’t really comprehend what I just watched. From his vibrato to new “dance” moves (xD), rapping, sparkle-gloves, what-even hair, suit, and stage persona, he absolutely put his all into this live. Completely.

The other members were amazing as well and I never doubted that they would be. Reita’s dual-toned hair needs to stay and needs to maybe be left flat because it seriously looked awesome in the documentary like that. His bass-playing was superb and the style he played for certain songs was so fucking passionate I can’t even. He truly made me notice him when I usually tend to merely give him a passing glance.

Aoi is always a diva on the stage. Always. And it really doesn’t take much – a little hip sway, a little backbend, a little (constant) smirk – and we’re all just lapping up after him. He seemed to be having so much fucking fun and I heard myself say a few times “Dear fucking god, Aoi…” so that’s when you know you’ve won Tessa over with your antics :3

Kai is a motherfucking beast on those drums. And those new camera angles – especially the bird’s eye angle and the foot pedal angle – really added a whole new dimension to his playing. I’ve always been saddened by the fact that Kai gets stuck with really static shots for being such a vivid, animated player. It’s not his fault – usually a camera is just taped to one place and catches his movements in action, but doesn’t really flow with them. Well, they fucking scratched that and completely revamped how the drums are filmed and holy shit. I love watching the foot pedals. I love watching his facial expressions from up above as he throws his head back. Beast.

Uruha is lovely as always and such a little BAMF in his wide-legged pants (even though I was convinced throughout VC that it was a skirt… :3). He needs to start doing L’oreal commercials. I feel bad that his hair is the first thing I notice besides his playing, but I can’t help it. The man’s got fierce locks (which is amazing after all those dye-jobs and whatnot). Anyways, Uruha’s skills are still WOAH MAN as always. I love how he seems to ad-lib a little for traditional phrases, making songs like Headache Man and Agony seem new and fresh. And his moments with Ruki were so friggin’ adorable <33

The lights were amazing.
The video screens were amazing.
The NEW INTROS TO THE SONGS WERE FUCKING AMAZING. Agony and Suicide Circus’ in particular.
And now I’m going to stop rambling before this gets any longer and move on to Disc 2 :D

DISC 2

Ride with the ROCKERS

-- I remember that a lot of people who went to this live said that this version was their favorite – so as I sit here waiting for it to rip, I’m frothing at the mouth lol. It’s amazing what Gazetto can do to the senses, seriously. There should be a case study on how much we are affected by merely anticipating their awesomeness.
-- You know, I really find it so admirable that GazettE gives the rhythm team a chance to really show off their incredible talent. The bassists and drummers of bands really don’t get enough credit, in my opinion. Power to the backbone of the band! :D
-- Black bandana time
-- AH the glasses~ He looks so good with them :D They’re probably frameless since he practically flung them across the stage
-- And I have that Dark Matter shirt :3
-- Reita, please eat a breadstick or something. You have the thinnest waist out of all of the members. I could practically wrap one of my hands around you D:
-- OOHHH ALREADY I LOVE THIS.
-- It’s so much more BAM than the other versions – Kai’s really owning it holyyyy~
-- 8D
-- I wonder if Aoi and Uruha are going to come out like they usually do for GO TO HELL (instrumental). This live is so fucking full of surprises, I’m sure I’m going to be flabbergasted and speechless for whatever happens XD
-- Reita’s fingers are flying over those frets, sweet jeezus – he really takes bass playing to another level
-- YAY IT’S THE OLD VERSION MEETING THE NEW VERSION THIS IS SO FANTASTIC
-- I wonder how they come up with these phrases – do they just riff off each other in the studio?
-- AHHHH KAI YES LET’S DO THIS
-- I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG IT’S THE BEST THE BESTTTT
-- Reita what was that face XD
-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OMG
-- OMGOMGOMGD;LJAE;JG;REGJLDSIJVS;LDSJL
-- CAN’T CONTAIN MYSELF SWEET FUCKING CRHIST THIS IS HEAVEN THIS IS WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE. OMG THEY COMPLETELY BLINDSIDED ME WHAT IS THIS SONG
-- AOI YOU LOOK LIKE AN ETHEREAL BEING OF BADASS
-- URUHA PLEASE WEAR WHITE ALWAYS
-- I love how they just *APPEARED* hahah
-- OMG URUHA YOU HAVE A LITTLE VOICE SOLO OMG
-- AOI WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU CRAZY THING
-- THIS NEEDS TO BE IN EVERY LIVE FOREVER
-- holy shit.
-- holy
-- shit

I need to collect myself

REMEMBER THE URGE

-- why are you guys so amazing
-- URUHA YOUR SLEEVE IS SLIPPING YAY
-- I’m loving the leopard overcoat. I must purchase one so I can pretend to have as much swag as Ruki does.
-- Gahhh Aoi your riffs.
-- I know there were a lot of people who didn’t really care for this song, but I’ve always enjoyed this whole single immensely. All the subtleties and nuances, the slow-downs, the awesome acoustics, everything. the GazettE’s a band that you really have to listen to their songs more than once to catch all the effort that they put into it. I remember how I used to dislike Invisible Wall and then one day I really listened to it and there were all these gems I had never noticed before. I feel like RTU is one of those songs.
-- This is the song where Aoi had his hissy fit in the beginning of the tour, yes? :3
-- It’s such a BAMF song to have a hissy fit over lol (a part of me really wishes that was caught on camera and then shown in the backstage stuff – kinda like how they showed Ruki losing his voice in 39DAYS, only it would be less soul-wrenching and more ridiculous).
-- It looks like Uruha has a cape and I can’t
-- Aoi needs to go out into the audience. He has been eye-fucking the entire arena all night. It is time to grace them with your physical presence.
-- Such awesome fade-outs – they’re not ridiculous like in TD (where there was a fade-in-out every 2 seconds… this commentary is really showing my dislike for that live’s filming lol).

AKAI ONE PIECE

-- Aw yis~
-- Uruha, you sassy thing.. spraying water like that.. and the fucking LOOK you gave afterwards. This man is like fine wine – as the years go by, he gets more and more enticing. It’s hard to think how he used to be so stiff in the past. Now look at him.. giving Aoi a run for his money (the image of Aoi running around in that flowy skirt and Uruha chasing after him with his little cape is quite lovely)
-- Aoi.. that smirk can’t mean anything good XD
-- He seriously belongs on those audience ramps, frolicking around lol – I don’t know why it took him so long to get up there
-- LOL HAHAHAH RUKI YOU MINX. I’m sure Reita appreciated that… >:3
-- REITA THAT’S DANGEROUS
-- HAH. Aoi looking around after everyone left like “Is it just me up here? D8”
-- Aww Aoi has his little moment with Uruha.. he has learned not to try and lay a smooch on him …unfortunately ;A;
-- A brief little visit to Kai~
-- Just take the jacket off Uruha STOP TEASING.
-- That. Dance. Forever amused by it.

COCKROACH

-- Fuck yes I love this song ~~(…I love every song…)~~
-- Aoi’s hair kinda clashes with his psychedelic (~~skin-tight~~) shirt :P
-- “cock rose”
-- I find that little “doh” so sensual.. just pressing their lips so close to those mics (…Aoi’s mostly to blame for this wandering little thought)
-- They're all in the best mood tonight. Constant dancing and smiles <3
-- Uruha, you are cracking me up with your faces in this live ahhh -- … and then you turn around and caress the shit out of that guitar. Damn you, sir.
-- KEEP TWIRLING, Aoi-shi - IT’S FABULOUS. I believe there was an interview where he said, “..the one who wears the skirt is the star”. Welp. Accurate.

DISCHARGE

-- Not my favorite song, but I can’t help but be amazed either way~
-- Red was used a lot in this live – from the screens for this song to the logo itself – I like :D
-- I don’t have too much to say since I’m just staring at them headbanging … in amazement
-- God, the way Aoi stomps towards the front like a first-class runway model at Milan fashion week who could put Tyra Banks to shame is so ..mother of god… fuckkk Aoi~
-- The fan is blowing Ussan’s cape :3

LINDA~candydive Pinky heaven~

-- NOOO NOT YET I DON’T WANT IT TO BE OVER
-- Aoi’s clapping <3
-- Kai’s smile <3
-- Uruha’s pointing <3
-- Reituki headbang <3
-- LOL AOI WHY
-- Haha the respectful nod from Aoi and Ruki XD No cheek-poking this time lol
-- THE USSAN SHUFFLE
-- RINGAROUND THE PLATFORM
-- ALL THAT WATER
-- AH KAI <3
-- LOL Ruki and Uruha racing back to the stage XDD
-- I love the hail mary’s before the bass-spin – I don’t blame him. I’d be tripping over every fucking cord XD
-- *sighs in content* This band...

I really, REALLY wish that they kept Kantou. I don’t think ANY of us would have cared if it ended a little awkwardly. It just shows that they’re human, right? And Kantou’s the fucking best – no matter the mistakes. But I understand why they cut it.. Even if I don’t agree with it D8

LOL THE LAST CUT IS SO AWKWARD. WHAT WAS THAT. XDDD
Aww you can already hear the “encore!”s from the audience.
AND THE SCREAMS WHEN THEY COME BACK OUT.
WAY TO TEASE US GAZETTO D8

Impressions of Disc 2:

AMAZING O H M Y G O D

Incredible. I find it so fascinating how the other members kind of give Ruki his little spotlight for the main part of the concert and then completely take over in the second half. I love that 8D

I kind of already said my piece about it above, but I really wish they included Kantou.. But despite that, I really like how they ended the entire disc – with those shouts for an encore and then the HUGE FUCKING SCREAM when they come back out. It’s like an open ending, and a reminder that if you call for them, they’ll come back. I like that metaphor. A lot.

…

Even if my face was like “D8!” when I heard it lmao

Overall:

Incredible, amazing, flawless (except for the Kantou business, but beggars can’t be choosers lol), everything I thought it could be and holy-shit-tons more. The band was in one of the best moods ever for this live. There was constant movement, smiles, and antics throughout the DVD. Ruki impressed me the most – I can’t remember him interacting with the stage and audience this much in the DIM live. It’s like he got a kick-start of passion right before he sauntered onto the stage. Everyone else was impressive as well – that goes without saying.

But perhaps what really floored me was just the overall artistic visuals of the live. They really went above and beyond. It wasn’t just fancy lights – the video screens were dynamic, interesting to look at, and added a whole other dimension to the live itself. Not to mention the fucking camera angles. Holy mother of sweet jeezus, I’m usually so “mehhh” over the filming, but this was beyond any expectation I had. I’ll be forever drooling over angles such as inside the platform’s cage (crotch-shot cam :3), behind Ruki, Kai’s foot pedals, bird’s eye view over the drum set – GAHHH <33 Everything and more.

This will be a live that I’ll watch over and over and over again. It makes me feel kind of guilty that I enjoyed this more than Tokyo Dome, but it’s true. Not to say Tokyo Dome wasn’t amazing because it was – it just had a more.. serious tone to it. That live was a milestone, one that was carefully staged and carefully executed. Here, in OMEGA, everyone is relaxed and carefree without the burden of living up to the stage’s reputation. This is the GazettE I love: the “holy-shit-how-did-they-get-so” talented posse of dorks <33

Awesome. \m/