(Source: aslongasuexist)

Reblog if you want anonymous opinions about you.

(Source: polygamistpancreas)

(Source: isitmadness)

… their remains splattered the floors, the walls, the ceiling, blood, guts, everywhere. 

his gun clicked, the clip was spent, but he was done.

orgysuperior:

“Xigbar, I have never not found you  irritating at best.” A small groan. “No, I’m not angry, I’m annoyed. And why would you care about doing that? And if you tell me it’s because I’m uptight, I’m going to send you to Agrabah for a month.”

“It’s whatever, you know?” He sneered, arms folding across his chest in a half-assed act of defiance. “Agrabah beats the tits off of this place..” The castle was depressing, Truth be told, Xigbar would rather be dispatched anywhere than be stuck confined to the bleached halls of their headquarters. “There’s plenty of food in Agrabah, or anywhere else. This place is kind of a buzzkill…” 

gunslingerx started following you

reine—sadique:

“Not just yours,” slithered words with a soft pitch she hardly seemed capable of possessing and they were nearly fervid, concupiscent, though any who understood the Nymph knew quite well that salacity and violence went hand-in-hand— she crossed the border between the two more often than not, and there was no time, no heart for regret. And oh, his intent was not lost on her, but she would not give in- she would not die- so easily. She just wondered, buried somewhere beneath a burning iris and a blood-stained grin, if he appreciated pain as much as he thought he did. It went both ways, many forget, to truly appreciate the art. Scars didn’t speak for much- just that he was a crazy son of a bitch, didn’t think things through.

By the time she realized she’d paused in step, she’d also realized that she was still driving electric eyes into him— he didn’t have a soul. She knew that, knew she was just as empty in such a precarious form, though she wondered if there was anything to him, anything other than hands soaked to the bone in blood, anything other than the gnashing of teeth and the scent of gunpowder. The answer was obvious to her— he was a pathetic, empty, empty thing, clinging to the ghost of what evidently made him still feel alive, and nearly was Larxene tempted to waste her pity.

Oh, even without a heart, she hated Organization XIII. With a hollow chest, she loathed everything. She despised her lack of existence, she despised the bone white of castle walls and stale air, she despised the thing in front of her. She hated everything he stood for- he stood for nothing- and she hated that he dared to think himself something other than dirt. Dirt for the queen, knives set pretty, knives set glistening, dirt for her to flourish her kingdom. Kingdom, come- Kingdom Hearts, the deceitful harlot in an ebon sky, and she hated that too. She would hate until it consumed this Castle, until it consumed him— or, she would kill him first, and save herself the trouble.

Click, click, heels against a marble floor, and she ventured to brush a thumb over his lip. She dared him to bite her, sink those teeth into flesh, nail, bone— entice her with pain and rage and she’d fill his skull with ten thousand volts until that soulless eye melted into streams of white, red, and gold. Larxene smiled then, and it was vile, dark, framed by a feigned sort of beauty, “Don’t tell me you couldn’t use a few more scars?”

Unhallowed be thy name. A deadly grin balanced on his face, a brow raising slightly as her voice pierced his ears. “Surely, you don’t think I’m gonna let you have any fun?” Somewhere on the board a piece shifted, the black king neared his dear white queen. Only in this game, the king was the strongest piece and Xigbar was the king. His hands folded together, five knuckles popping in a symphony of disgusting noises before the positions flipped and the other digits snapped seconds later. 

Curiosity killed the cat, and boy was Larxene ever the curious one in this scenario. Soon she’d be screaming, regretting probing this deep into the endless abyss that might have once been mistaken for a soul. Even a soul-less machine could still be intelligent, a bloodthirsty mongrel could still be cunning, et cetera. It didn’t matter how you sliced the corpse, she was still trying to assert dominance over a mindless ghoul that didn’t exist. The condescending demeanor hung over her outwardly abrasive persona like an ugly scarf. 

It’d be such a shame, to go in expecting everything only to find out she’d walked into the maw of a predator.  Was it just how incredibly laid back he was, or did the fact that he ate people really shed light on the ideal that he lacked intelligence. What a shame indeed, a gleam flickered in his eye as the conclusion was drawn that he really didn’t give a fuck what she thought.

Unknown to the general populace, Xigbar was smarter than the average Nobody, nobody ever took the time to realize he’d taken part in the scientific engineering of the Thirteen. That was lost in the sands of time, along with a lot of his other intellectual pursuits. After losing his heart the male had adopted the attitude of a retired surfer and the appetite of a starving wolf. Savoring the hunt, the Second seat took his time staking out his victims before dropping in to ruin their lives. 

Capture wasn’t the end of it though, it was just the beginning. First he’d tear her fingernails off, then shatter the wrist bones, dislocating the shoulders would be next, and the spectacle would be set on cruise control after that, the insatable bloodlust would take over and direct the movement of his hands, weapons, what have you. The high pitched voice brought him back from his prophecy momentarily. The long ponytail shook along with his head as he silently denied her. 

“I’ve got enough, but I think you’d look damn fine missing a few limbs~”

@gunslingerx

xiiirox:

Roxas wasn’t sure what time it was or what dimension he was currently occupying. What he was positive of, though, was that the coke he’d taken was some of the purest he’d ever come across; his face felt like it was melting, the contents of his chest warm and liquid, couldn’t feel his hands though he was chewing on the pads of his fingers. 

He watched women grind against poles, burnished steel warm between supple thighs as they spun ‘round and ‘round, kaleidoscopes and candy stars and barely covered breasts. He kept chewing, mouth stretched into a ghastly smile as he broke the skin, teeth stained claret. The blood tasted hot and metallic and powerful on his tongue, a half forgotten dream of candle wax and words chanted in clumsy Latin. 

The world swirled around him, rushed by in lights and pierced nipples and painted smiles promising nights in twisted sheets. The girl that had found her way into his lap was murmuring something about blonds and he just grinned, pupils blown out as he curled a finger into espresso hair and leaned forward to taste the vodka on her mouth. 

Wasn’t anything better than blowing your mind on cocaine and proceeding to blow cash on gorgeous, expensive women who were itching to get on their knees and beg for him to blow it across their faces. 

Throwing back a shot, the male gazed over his shoulder and caught a familiar face.  A devilish grin pulled his features, a gloved hand slipped a pill into his mouth and the one-eye spun a few times on his stool before wobbling to his feet. Naturally, he’d had enough to drink to kill three people and enough pills in his system to put down a bull elephant - yet somehow Xigbar remained on his feet and continued to enjoy the strip club. 

Shock crawled across his face as he neared the blonde, the recognition was instant despite the muddled state of mind. His eye gleamed and he sank down in an unattended chair mere feet from the boy, watching the wide eyed gaze he cast up at the nearly nude femme in his lap. Waving a hand in the air, the freeshooter called one of the many scantily clad women to him. “Jagerbomb.” It was more of a command than anything, he waved her away and watched her saunter toward the bar before turning his attention back to the other.

“Fancy seeing you here, Roxas~.” His eye twitched as he flicked a thumb up toward the male. “You picked a damn good place to hang out, I can tell you that much~.” His grin flashed wider as the woman brought his shot, tipping his head back he swallowed the liquid and pulled the girl down into his lap forcefully. One hand tangled in her hair and forced their heads close, the scarred mug was inches from her face. She was terrified, but when did that stop him? The gunman’s freehand slid a bill into her panties before planting itself on her ass. The deer-in-headlights look was almost enough to excite him, although he’d much rather watch her writhe on the ground in pure agony. 

Irritably he shoved the woman from his lap, almost shouting for another drink. His trip was starting to take a bad turn and Xigbar only knew of one way to cure that. More drinks! A smile broke his marred visage, the singular pool of amber watching the Thirteenth intently. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much there, kiddo~”