|
[24 Aug 2008|06:49pm] |
WHO: Soph and Frank Montrose
WHERE: White Trash Carnival Tour Bus
WHEN: Tonight, after the after show festivities.
WARNINGS: Het Sex. Drugs.
NOTES: This comes after Frank and Soph have been shagging for a couple of weeks.
©2008 Nytshaed / Chaoticworks.com
Rated R for mature subject matter.
( Black Widow - Silly Pills )
|
|
| The Darq Carnevil |
[27 Jul 2008|06:56am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 accomplished |
] |
"The Darq Carnevil"
©2008 Nytshaed / Chaoticworks.com
Rated R for mature subject matter.
( Cut )
|
|
| Khristmas with the Krays 12/29/05 |
[29 Jan 2008|06:03pm] |
Khristmas with the Krays
WHO: Spook, Angel and Daemon Kray
WHERE: Kray Kompound, England.
NOTES: Spook and the Krays prepare for Christmas
( Part One )
Khristmas with the Krays, Part Two
WHO: Spook, Daemon, and Angel
WHERE: Kray Compound, Paris
WHAT: Boxing Day!
WARNINGS: Slash, Sexual torture
( Part Two )
|
|
| Leaves from the past |
[18 Mar 2007|02:03pm] |
I don't understand the attraction to being a twin. Everyone I meet, they tell me I am so lucky, and so fortunate to have been born with a twin, another me, another self to share my life with. I guess maybe if we had split from same egg, that would be true, or not. Then I would be part of another of another being and not feel the way I do.
I'm surplus, extra flesh, blood and pus. Exteraneous matter, that doesn't matter. Quintin, my frail, gentle and talented brother is the Way Heir, I am the spare. He's loved and coddled and adored, I am ignored and left to my own devices because I don't need the care and worry. I don't envy him, I don't hate him. I hate myself, and the hate I feel for myself spills over and washes onto him. He is a constant reminder that there is nothing unique about me, at all.
Quintin has done nothing to me but exist, and in his shadow, I can't do anything but rot, wither, and become detris on the ground to be trod on by the rest of the world.
***************************
Happy Birthday to US!! Yes, US. Not me, but Quintin AND ME. With a twin, and someone that not only shares your name, but birthdays, Christening, graduations and every other step in your life, you never get the chance to be a singular person. There is that other person, the shining one that shares every facet of your life at the same exact moment. The same parents, the same house, the same name.
So, yeah, for OUR birthday rich Mommy and Daddy bought us new cars. They asked me beforehand what I wanted, and I told them I don't drive, so I don't care. Quintin got his dream car, some import thing to haul band equipment with, and they got me a Jaguar. I drove it to the store to get smokes, then parked it back in the garage. I won't touch it again. I left the keys in it, so maybe some deserving person will find it, steal it, and they can keep it for all I care.
***************************
(Written in what looks like long ago dried blood from a fountain pen or quill)
My blood, our blood, his blood. I am guessing it's the same. If we were both smashed into a wall by a car, could they tell our blood apart? I doubt they would bother. This is my blood, I will leave it here as a sample just in case they need one.
*************************
|
|
| Story Transfer |
[26 Aug 2005|06:00am] |
Should I explain? I don't think anyone READS my journals anymore, but just in case you are... Girl returns to driving Tour Buses after a five year break. Girl, woman actually, meets guitatist, sex and love ensue. TOTAL Mary Sue and unapologetically so. So you have been warned. This is just an outline of chapters and a start. Posted here cuz I fucking FRIED the screen on my laptop and need to transfer this from miniMax to Nasty Little Midget. La.
"A Warped Kinda Love"
The Dates:
June 18, 19, 21, 22, 24, 25, 26, 28, 29, 30,
July 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31
August 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15
THE CHAPTERS:
• Loading in the rain.
It was raining of course, as she put the finishing touches on the packing of the tour bus. Rain, in June, wonderful. She ignored it however and rolled her beloved Motorcycle, all in purple and black into the Uhaul style trailer hooked to the hitch of the bus. The trailer would be empty save for the bike until she met up with the band and they loaded their gear. The band, My Chemical Romance, and the tour was Warped, known to the bands and crew as Punk Rock Summer Camp. She'd come out of retirement as a driver when the need to get out of town and away from the drama in her life had become suffocating. A three month tour would seem like a vacation, and she'd given a listen to the band's CD and found out enough about them to know she would get along with them just fine, as long as they didn't act like children and cause undo damage to the bus. Her bus. Being an independent contractor had it's advantages, as well as disadvantages. But, she had been doing this long enough to have a good reputation for professionalism, one of the poshest rigs out there, and charged a fair, but not cheap rate for her services.
Once the bike was loaded in and strapped down, she closed the ramp door on the trailer, padlocked it shut and returned to the house to make the last few arrangements for things living and not before she hit the road. The tour started in Columbus Ohio, right smack in the middle of the US and the band, homebased in New Jersey would be flying in to Columbus with their gear to meet up with her and the rest of the circus two days before the show. A three day drive lay ahead and she inwardly winced as she sat in her living room sipping hot cocoa later and looked at the schedule. The last fourteen dates of the tour would done in 15 days. There were only 7 days off in the entire month of July and June was a bit less of a ball breaker with 10 shows in 13 days. It would be great fun if they all didn't end up killing or screwing each other by the end of the tour. Not her screwing the band, but intra-band and crew drama. She'd seen it happen and end up in catastrophic messes on many a tour. This sort of tour was new to her however. There was a core group of bands that would see the entire tour and a large rotating population of bands that were only involved in partial segments of the tour. She did not envy the man or persons in charge of keeping all of this straight. Her normal runs had been with two or three bands on a tour of the US or adjoining countries. This was going to be something strange, new and far too unpredictable. She was going to love it.
After she finished drinking her cocoa and putting the cup in the dishwasher, she retired to her room to catch a nap before leaving in the early evening for the first leg of the drive. "And so the adventure starts.."
• Stop one - Columbus.
Three days later she arrived at the staging area. She wasn't the first bus there, but hadn't planned on being so. She recognized a few of the rigs from days gone by, and replied with a blast of her airhorns when she was greeted with the same from other drivers. She was met at the end of a line of arriving buses by a guy in a clipboard who found her name on the list and directed her to the row and space to park in to load in band and equipment. It would be a short drive to the venue from here she was told, and after getting a packet of information and directions to both her parking spot and the production office, she maneuvered the bus to it's resting point and then stepped out into the partially cloudy sky and looked around. "Today, is a good day to rock." she smiled, and after locking the bus down and checking on the bike, she went to find production and start with the business of getting checked in.
At Production, she picked up her laminate, her tour ID and the placard for the bus, which was a simple number. Apparently they weren't into advertising who was on what bus, and she agreed with that. Back when she drove for FAUST all three of the busses were identical in design, only the interiors varied and none were marked as to which bus AJ, the infamous singer rode on. In fact, each day the order the buses traveled in changed and the drivers were rotated around as well to prevent, many things from happening.
Once she had her laminate on and the rest of the paperwork and placard back in the bus, she went to wander the compound and see if she could find any familiar faces.
•
• The Interview - Heading out.
•
• The Wailing Bus.
•
• Wailing Bus II
•
• "Don't you know what's going on man?"
•
• Gee asks.
•
• Nice to meet you.
•
• Hard Questions, evasive answers.
•
• A Date is made, and broken.
•
• No reply at all.
•
• Shrapnel from the Road.
•
• Text Messages.
•
• The BBQ.
•
• The Interview - This is the End
•
• The Next Tour.
•
• Proposals.
•
• The Wedding on Halloween
•
• Will you be my Daddy?
•
• Six Months Presents.
•
• The Tour Alone
•
• Conjugal Visit
|
|
| Fearless indeed |
[08 Jul 2005|02:05pm] |
It was a Hellishly cold night that night. Rain drummed without mercy on the walls and windows of the Tavern. It was the Bastard Son, set out in the grassy highlands of Ireland.
The inclement weather was not much of a deterrent to the locals, nor to the two Americans sitting at a table in the back of the Pub. Both were dressed similarly, long oilcloth duster coats that were perfect for protection from the elements, or other forces. They also contained many pockets and pouches for holding weapons both lethal and obvious, and benign and subtle.
He looked older than his 28 years, jet hair fell in clumped strands to his shoulders and swept across his pale forehead. Hazel eyes that had seen too much peered out against the black hair and pale skin. The smile under the nose was quick to appear, and just as quick to go to a sneer when required.
She on the other hand, didn't look her full age, but the miles and years of toil and war could be seen in her eyes. Her dark burgundy hair was pulled back in to a long braid, and blue green eyes contemplated the various rings and bracelets she wore for lack of anything else to look at right then.
"I forget, who's turn to buy?" he asked in a raspy voice that sounded like he'd already been drinking and smoking for the entire night.
"Yours." She replied in a deadpan and leaned back, and draped an arm on the back of the worn booth seat. "You always have a lapse of memory when it's your turn to buy." she said wryly and then looked over as a fetching Irish lad in an apron approached the table to take their order.
"Rotten night, eh mates?" he asked brightly. "What can we get you to chase off the chill?" he asked as he turned to the male first.
He raised his eyebrows, and sighed, "Two doubles, in tall glasses, Balvenie, 18 year old." he said without hesitation and turned to stare at the woman, who was still looking in an apparent casual manner at the waiter. He watched her, watch him, then he was gone and with a sigh she turned to look back at her companion as she rested her elbow on the worn wooden table and looked at him in a tired manner.
"He's entirely too young for you." he sneered and leaned back into his seat at the booth and draped his arm over the back.
She raised her eyebrows at him, and smiled slowly, "So, what, you are my chaparone now? It's up to you who I may like and shag?" she asked softly, clearly amused. "I would be amused if I thought this was based in jealousy, but since it's just some petty obsession of yours, it bores me..." she said then made a point of keeping her eyes on the waiter while he fetched the drinks, just to annoy him.
"It is most certainly NOT jealousy, it's the pure and simple fact that we need to remain focused, prepared and aware at all times."
"Did I teach you that?" she sighed, "Lord, you need to get laid. More than I do...."
To be continued....
|
|
| Wonka's Dreamers |
[08 Jul 2005|02:05pm] |
While he led Charlie around on one of his many tours of The Chocolate Factory, Willie Wonka detailed all of the care and responsibilities that went along with ownership of the Chocolate Factory. When they came upon the "Candy Store" and the subsequent store rooms, supply rooms and conveyors that brought the Candy from the Factory up to the store that was adjacent to the Factory, he paused. This is the store where Persons of Great Importance, Polititians, Kings, Queens, Dukes and their Children would come to purchase sweets to eat and take home.
Charlie was about to walk into the Main Store room, when Willie put a hand upon his chest and held him back. The look on his face was most stern, and showed great concern for some reason. "This is one of those places, and one of those times when you must exericse extreme caution." he said in a quiet tone of voice. "In this area are two very special creatures who work for me, and because of what they are, they must live here as well." he said ominously.
"Are they like the Oompa Loompas?" he asked, bright eyes all wide with curiousity. "Did you bring them here to be safe and live in peace?"
"No, I did not bring them here. Not entirely." he said as he started to explain. They have worked here, for many years in fact, and here they must remain, for always. You must remember that. They cannot be allowed to leave the Factory ever." he said stressing that point with a stab of his cane to the floor. His face had become tense and stern, and as if realizing this, he paused, smiled at Charlie and continued with the tale. "As I said, they used to work for me, in a different department. The Department Of Confection Design. At the time, I believe it was about fifteen years ago, we were working on a candy called Dream Fudge..." he said, then sighed heavily as if something was disturbing him a great deal. With a flick of a gloved hand he brushed back a stray strand of hair from his face and continued. "The Candy was designed to grant your Fondest Wish, but the wishes were to only last an hour or so."
Charlie applauded, to him that sounded like a grand idea. "How wonderful! That would make everyone so happy indeed, right?" he asked the Chocolate maker. From the look on Willie's face, he could tell that had not been the case.
"No. It was a good Idea, however, the execution of the Candy did not work properly." he said with a regretful shake of his head. "The wishes came true, however, the effects of them did not vanish when they were supposed to. In fact," he said with a click of his tongue. "They became permanent, and the two of them, one male, one female, were left with... Permanent Changes to themselves..."
Charle's eyes opened wider as he now thought of what one could possibly wish for that could change them so radically that if the changes did not disappear as planned, that the people were to be kept in secret from the world. He saw the sad and a bit worried expression on Willie's face, and suddenly he wasn't in such a rush to enter that part of the Candy Factory. "Are... are they dangerous?" he asked Willie as he stepped back from the door. Willie tiltled his head to the side slightly and touched the top of his cane to the brim of his hat. "No. No. Well, perhaps. Maybe..." he said as he seemed to be thining out loud and the more he thought out loud, the less Charlie liked the whole situation. "They can fly..." He said with a nod, then he reached over Charlie's shoulder and opened the door. Charlie held his breath expecting a pair of gargoyles or something like that, but all that lay beyond was another small room. He went inside when given a soft push from behind by Willie.
"There's nothing here." he said as he turned to Willie, who was locking the door they had just come through, and pulling a window shade down that made the door vanish completely. "This is the airlock." he explained. "This room is the intermediary between the outside and the Candy Store. If they were to get into this room, they would not be able to find their way out, for as you can see, the door Out is gone." he smiled with a wave of his hand. Only you and I can see the pull on the shade that hides the door. Do you understand?" he asked the boy. Charlie nodded. "I do." he replied gravely. Willie nodded, and smiled wide. "Grand! Now, beyond the door in front of us is the actual warehouse, where they work...."
"Do they live in there as well?" Charlie asked in a concerned tone, interrupting Willie.
"No. They live in an area in the tallest point in the Factory." he explained. They only go there in the evenings, after the rest of the workers leave for the day. I allow them to visit the Chocolate Factory and eat what they wish, just like the other guests. I have special food brought in for them from time to time as well. Like, on Christmas, and Halloween, and their birthdays." he smiled.
Charlie thought that sounded very generous, but no food, no matter how nice, could take the place of being normal and being able to go where you wanted. He felt a little sorry for the unfortunate pair.
As if picking up on Charlie's sentiments, Willie spoke up, "Do not pity them Charlie. Do not feel sorry for them. Pity will allow them to escape and you can NEVER, NEVER let that happen. If you feel sorry for them, they will use that to their advantage, and press you to free them. They would not survive in the outside world, not even for a day before they would be hurt by others. You have to remember that Charlie. It may seem cruel to keep them here, but..." he sighed. "It is for the best, for everyone." he said and again put on that smile of his that could sometimes be so disingenuous. Then as if to stop the conversation on the subject, he turned to the door that was ahead of them marked "CANDY WAREHOUSE - DANGER!"
"Shall we go in for a look around?" He grinned at Charlie, then unlocked the door and opened it. "After you." he said with a friendly push on Charlie's back then followed him into the cavernous room and quickly shut the door behind him, relocking it with a strangely shaped golden key.
"Wow..." was all Charlie could say when he saw the size of the room. It was so tall, you could almost not see the top of it. Before him and Willie, it seemed to go on for miles and miles. "It's simply massive!" he exclaimed and looked at Willie who had taken the seat behind the wheel of a WonkaKart and was slipping his cane into the holder alongside his seat.
"Come and have a seat, we can't possibly walk to all the places I want to show you." he smiled and honked the horn twice. Charlie winced, doing that would attract attention, and he wasn't really eager to meet this potentially dangerous duo.
The cart sped along down the towering rows of boxes and crates all marked with the Wonka logo in brightly colored inks, depending on what was contained inside. Charlie held tightly to the handle next to his seat and kept a wary eye open for a glimpse of the creatures, or persons Willie had described. After a few moments, he glanced over at Willie and saw he seemed unconcerned at all about the situation and then looked back ahead as they drove along. As they reached the numbered rows, designated by signs hanging from ornate posts like on street corners. "This is where the candy is stored," Willie said as he pointed out the different items in that area as he slowed down slightly.
"Here are the Jawbreakers, Gumballs and Everlasting Gobstoppers... On this side we have the Jelly Beans, all sorts of flavors of them, Apple, Banana, Cherry..." he said merrily singing off the flavors the factory until there was a sudden and disturbing interruption.
WHAM!!!
Something had landed on the hood of the WonkaKart and was standing there now contemplating the passengers as both Willie and Charlie let out a scream of terror and the Kart skipped to a stop just short of a stack of Rock Candy crates. Charlie was curled up in a ball cowering on the seat next to Willie, who once he had recovered from the sudden arrival and stopping of the cart, got out to greet the person.
"Pardon me?" he asked calmly as he looked up her as she continued to stand on the bonnet of the WonkaKart.
"The Jelly Beans were moved LAST MONTH!" Charlie heard and indignant female voice say, and then continue. "They were moved over to the South Side near the Candy Covered Peanuts, Malted Balls and Popcorn Balls." she said, then paused as the slowly moving form in the Kart caught her attention.
"I had no idea, I suppose I should keep up on matters more considering..." Willie started to say, but his thought about how he would be leaving and the task of keeping such things straight would fall to his protege Charlie was cut off by her curt interruption.
"Who is THIS one?" she asked and Charlie cringed when he realized he'd been noticed and felt the WonkaKart rock slightly as she jumped down from the hood and apparently moved in for a closer look.
"Oh! That is Charlie! This is a grand time for you two to meet!" Willie exclaimed and with a quick move, reached into the WonkaKart and gripped Charlie by the arm of his jacket and pulled him out of the Kart on the Driver's sides. She had been looking in from the passenger side, so when Charlie opened his eyes to look around when his feet touched ground, his view of her was partially obscured.
To be continued......
|
|
| Yet more Behind Bars Inspired Plot Fic. |
[11 Jun 2005|06:43pm] |
I am exhausted, but it's not such a bad thing. I have had a full day, after a full two days, and now I expect to sleep like a dead man here in my bunk. I had my usual chores around the Prison today, then band practice and this was after the weekend I had on Conservatory Furlough. I've gotten used to the weirdness of that weekly jaunt now as I have a "regular" trick who always reserves me and only me.
Furlough? Trick? I suppose I should back up for those of you who HAVEN'T been monitoring this journal for the last three months.
I asked Warden Tim if there wasn't some way we, the inmates could form an in house band made up of inmates. It would be a good, positive outlet for some angst, anger and energy through the lyrics, and who knows, we might even get good enough to record something. I had realized I was bored out of my skull, and missed singing. I guess the Choirboy in you never dies.
Warden was not very hip on the idea as he didn't like providing extra blankets in the winter during sub zero temperatures outside. He was less likely to provide FREE OF CHARGE band of equipment to us, his beloved Maggots.
"There's no fuckin' money Way! There's nuthin' in it for me!" he had barked at me, and threatened to adjust my thinking with his nightstick, so I beat out of there quickly. But, he DID think about it. He DID come up with a way to "finance" this project and line his pockets as well. See, Warden Tim is God in here, we are such the outpost of reprobates, no one cares what happens to us, so that is how he was able to pull this off. The ColdStone Conservatory Furlough Program was born. Sounds nice and noble, right? Sure. Come to the Prison, and rent a pretty inmate for the night, or weekend for a price and pay a neat sum to the Good Ol' Warden for the privilege.
Half the money goes to the Inmate Band, the other half goes to "Administrative Fees", meaning Warden Tim's pocket. He's keeping pretty much to his word, his agreement with me, and we do have a state of the art drum kit, guitars, mixer board and PA system now. If you want to play in the band, you gotta go on Furlough. Hence comes in my "regular" trick. He comes for me once a month, for a weekend, and for 48 hours, I get to live outside these walls and mingle with normal humans for a bit. More on that later. How do we manage to be let out and not escape? Well, Warden Tim likes to surf the Internet, so he found some Ukrainian modified Prisoner Monitoring devices. They are locked around your right ankle when you leave the Prison with your Trick and along with a GPS tracking device, also installed is a small explosive, just enough to blow your fucking foot off should you go out of bounds, or return late. Nice motivating factor eh? The Trick gets one on his ankle as well.
Me and Sonny were the first in the furlough, followed by Ant, and Jepha. We call the band Rent Boy, as it is a lot more polite than the names the Warden and Baker came up with. We aren't half bad for inmates. I can still sing. Mikey practices Bass with us, but he's tied in with his Daddy/Lover and doesn't go out on Furlough. $600 a night or a thousand for two, and you can have your own inmate to take come, spoil, tie up, fuck, whatever. I work nearly every weekend and again, I have my regular. Winslow is his name. He's attractive at least and is an IT Tech in Anchorage. He helped to set up the web page for the 'band' and that's how we met. I like him best. There's no degradation, no humiliation or bondage with him. He actually takes me out on dates almost, out for food, and then yeah, we go back to his condo and fuck all night.
Last time we took in a movie, dinner, I refused the alcohol, that is the ONE perk Warden prohibits along with drugs and the like. I can live without that. It took some adjustment for me at first when I went out. My first shower with a trick? I screamed when the hot water hit me as I stepped into the shower. See, I'm used to the lukewarm water here, and I felt like I was being boiled alive. I am not called Spook for nothing. It's not just the pale complexion, it's the fact EVERYTHING scares the shit out of me. I Spook easy.
Anyway, Winslow. I don't understand what he's doing with me. He's fucking hot. Hung, and sweet as sugar. I don't understand why he can't get a guy from the Real World, but then again, this is ALASKA, which is a MAN's MAN country and yeah, I guess there aren't a lot of Gay Bars up here in the Klondike. I am trying to not get any sort of attachment to him, or any of the tricks. It's an easy trap to fall into, some of them are so fucking sweet to you, and I am sweet right back. Others, we are body's for a rape fantasy and rough sex they would not DARE try on their regulars. Whatever.
Another year, and I will be out of here. Winslow knows that and had made some mention of staying in touch.... I honestly don't know what the fuck I will do when I get out of here. I get a bus ticket and $100.00 and my old clothes back. Yeah, I will be a big fucking success right off. Lessee, take the bus to San Francisco maybe, peddle my ass there for a while and work up from there? Sure. No family to go home to. Mikey will still be inside. It looks fucking bleak, but I won't dwell on that now. Perhaps I can make some connections in here to help me once I am sprung. I REALLY don't want to be a whore to sing.
|
|
| AIM with Warden Tim and Spook |
[28 May 2005|08:59pm] |
COLDSTONE IM with The Warden Tim.
CS GWAY: I gave up knocking, and went to go get strangled by Daemon. You weren't there for my Punishment Appointment.
CS WARDEN: *sigh*. Who's the bitch now? Heh.
CS GWAY: OH, I am not his bitch, but his brother. WE HAVE bitches....
CS WARDEN: Suuuure. You keep telling yourself that.
CS GWAY: But I am Dae's Bitch if YOU prefer. I wear that title with pride.
CS WARDEN: Hmm. What could change that?
CS GWAY: I am not sure. It tastes better and feels better to be bad.
CS WARDEN: Damn. Nooo. Come back to the light side. Gerard Way. I am your father.
CS GWAY: I have no father now. He abandoned me. I have only my brothers.
CS WARDEN: Oh pish posh
CS GWAY: What do you care anyway? I am a maggot, trash, something to be caged and left to rot. I've learned that lesson finally.
CS WARDEN: Nooo. *sigh*. Damn. Thats just the exterior Tim talking. The inside is like a little bunny.
CS GWAY: The bunny likes nightstick rape. I've never seen no bunny, and I went down that hole, twice.
CS WARDEN: Ouch.
CS WARDEN: Hah. Yes. But Cade, and Syn have seen the bunny and patted the bunny and Zacky kinda saw it.
CS GWAY: Well, they are you bitches I suppose. I wasn't worth it in your eyes.
CS WARDEN: Aww. nuh uh. Not true. You juss gotta pass tha tests, maggot.
CS GWAY: Sorry, I got 2100 on my SATs then they tossed me in here to be Guard toys. I dont do tests anymore.
CS GWAY: And see.. You call me Maggot again. That shows I am trash and a carrion eater in your eyes.
CS GWAY: I aspire now, to your lowest level of expectations, and Daemon's highest.
CS WARDEN: Fiiiine. Play with the bad boys. You'll soon get burned and then come running back to me.
CS GWAY: Why would I run to you? You offer me less solace that a razor.
CS WARDEN: AT least you know what you're getting. Rather than having false hopes or images shattered.
CS GWAY: Getting? Yeah, being called a Maggot and sodomized with your Wand of Power. I have no false hopes. I know exactly where I am going and where it will end up.
CS GWAY: *sings, beautifully, and perfectly on key.* "Shot doooooooown..... In a blaze of glory...."
CS WARDEN: I'm still lickign my wounds from earlier today. Come back tomorrow. *sigh*.
CS GWAY: Sorry you got hurt Sir. I don't wish you harm. The pain calls to me anyway. Sleep well.
CS WARDEN: Good night.
CS WARDEN: ...maggot
CS GWAY: Love you too.
|
|
| More POST Behind Bars Silliness. |
[23 May 2005|10:13pm] |
Journal Entries by Spook Kray:
"I don't like drugs, but the drugs like me...."
Oh yes I do. I never did them until recently, well except for the ones prescribed to me by my phalanx of doctors through my "troubled teens". These are the "troubled teens" that gave way to sudden bursts of "Justified" rage and ended in jail time. No, not jail... Jail is where you go for County and local shit. I went to Prison, with a capital P and did HARD TIME. I went in for killing the fuck who raped me, then got raped again triple by the Guards there. Happy times.
I couldn't get out of there soon enough, and with the help of others and new and improved family members, I not only made it out alive, but much improved. Mikey, my blood bro is still in there, but I go to see him every week when I am in the area.
Family business keeps me busy lots of the time. That's where the drugs come in. I have my ones prescribed by my regular doctors, and then the ones prescribed by Dae and Angie. I have had several weekends I cannot remember. There was the Heroin one. Angie fixed me up and alternated the fixes with pain and fucking me speechless. When it was over and I'd had enough of it all, he put me to sleep under general anesthesia for a rapid and painless detox.
Daemon, he entices me with other things. Hallucinogenics of the finest quality and hash so pure, it drips resin like honey. He lights me up, then ties me down and fucks and strangles me until I come. Sick? Oh yes, but that is our middle name. We aren't doing this to any innocents, or outsiders, only each other. So, if you don't like it, it's "Too fookin' bad." as Dae would say.
I have the oddest of accents now. Jersey meets Cockney. The scary thing is how much of their conversations I can understand, sober, when they are yammering at each other full speed.
---------
France is a nice country but the people are hideous. We have a home here, and the French may have culture, and couture, but they also have an incredible knack for hairy women, bodies in general, and extreme body funk. I still have everything but my head and eyebrows shaved. It's a habit left over from prison for hygienic reasons, but it also keeps Dae from lighting my pubes on fire. Yeah, he's did that once while Angie held me down. Twas a laugh riot, I tell you.
Oh, and just for GENERAL SAFETY reference:
Electric Violent Wand Dildos and pacemakers DO NOT MIX! Thanks to Angie for helping me figure that out. Thanks to Dae for the CPR. Angie breaks toys. Dae fixes me them.
|
|
| Just silly shit |
[22 May 2005|01:29pm] |
It's early in the morning and even the people that have been awake all night at the station are groggy: the shuffle of paper, murmurs of good morning and did you sleep at all? flutter around the room. The only people seemingly unaffected by the early, early morning are the guests: noone's bothered to offer to touch up their makeup or check their mikes. As per most of their public appearances, the Brothers Kray look perfect, more like models or rock stars than international terrorists.
Matt finishes getting his makeup done and turns to his cohost. "You don't really think all of this is safe, do you? Having all three of them here?" He's nervous and it's rather obvious.
Spook was at ease, and why shouldn't he be. He was nestled on the posh couch in between his brothers Angel and Daemon. He had a catbird grin on his pale face and was rolling a pair of steel meditation balls around in his left hand in an exquisite display of contact juggling. He lifted his nose and sniffed, his sense of smell still as keen as a hounds and grinned. "Yer wearing that cologne again..." he muttered to Angel. "The one that makes me go crosseyed I get so fucking horny..." he whispered then looked over at Daemon and winked.
Angel gave that wicked grin that the brothers all seemed to share now and, in a gesture of teasing, reached bodily across Gerard and snatched Daemon's cigarette from his fingers, kissing Gerard almost cheekily on the lips in a peck and then settling back. Daemon exhaled the smoke in two streams of smoke and frowned at his older brother. "Yeh're a fookin' arse, yeh know that?" he said in a half-growl.
"Yah, and I'm a fookin' lark a' one too an' yeh know it," Angel replied, taking a draw from the cigarette and batted his eyelashes.
Gerard's eyes rolled up into his head as Angel passed so close to him, and he let out a soft moan as he was kissed in such a teasing manner. "Fuck I hate when you do that...." he muttered and dug a finger into Angel's ribs as he leaned back. Then when Angel had taken a hit off of the smoke, he leaned over and leaned one hand down into Angel's groin as he stole the fag and did an elegant French Inhale before handing it back to Daemon. "You aught do something about that thieving pansy you know...." he laughed.
"I dun," he replied with a little laugh, taking the fag back and smirking at Angel. "But th' lit'le cunt likes it... yeh've seen it yehself." Angel rolled his hips into Gerard's touch and smirked at both of them.
"Yeh think they'll hold off on th'show so I can fuck yeh prison bitch, DeeDee?" Angel purred, winking at Gerard.
Gerard narrowed his eyes at Angel playfully. "Ah.. I am sure yeh can if you can get it up and come up with enough cigarettes for Dae..." he winked back. "I'm a pretty screamer and pricey. High maintenance." he grinned and then stopped fondling Angel and began to dig around in the pocket of his jacket like a child seeing candy, or weapons.
"Wot are yeh on abou'?" half-growled Angel, wriggling a little under Gerard as he began to dig through his jacket. Daemon just chuckled. "Really Angie... wot yeh expect? En't nothin' free."
"Except yehrself," growled Angel. "Free arse all I fuckin' want..."
Daemon chuckled again and flicked his ashes in an ashtray.
Gerard giggled as his brothers argued and then upon finding something of interest, he pulled it out and looked it over with one hand, while the other kept the balls going around. The balls were a necessity, caused by the break in prison and the nervous energy tick the stay had given him.
It was either he played with the steel balls or he was playing with himself, or Daemon. "Lookee this...." he said as he held up the shiney object. A butterfly knife.
Daemon looked at the butterfly knife and then at Angel. "Really Angie... wot're yeh on abou'?"
Angel pouted. "I'm on abou' playin'," he said. "An' he started it!" he pointed at Gerard, swooping forward and pecking his lips again.
Daemon finished his cigarette and snubbed it out, moving over one seat to be next to his brothers.
Spook grinned at Dae as he moved closer and then looked down into his lap as he put the exercise balls down and began to skillfully flip the knife open and shut, over and over again. The pink scar across his left palm was easily seen against his pale complected skin.
Daemon looked from Gerard to Angel. Angel looked back. He bit his lip a little and then, on one of the open and shuttings, caught the blade between his thumb and forefinger and tugging it out of Gerard's hand. He held it in his own, and trailed the tip ever so lightly down Gerard's throat. Daemon purred.
Spook pouted when his toy was taken from him, then that expression faded when he felt the tip of the blade brush across his skin. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, exposing more throat for Angel to tease. He was shivering slightly from tension and arousal, along with asphyxia, knife play was high on his list of desires.
Angel knew that, and it was one of the other other reasons why he liked Spook. Angel had a kink for kinks and Spook seemed to acquire a new one every day. He drew a tiny line of blood, which Daemon leaned forward and lapped ever so gently off of the blade and Spook's neck.
One of the tekkies cleared his throat, being the bitch newbie he got tagged to tell them they were going on air in just a minute or so.
"Uhgn!" Spook cried out, but it was a sort of surrendering, pleasured sound. He shuddered at the feel of the blade slicing his skin, then the touch of Daemon's tongue. He was fully hard and aching for more. He wanted to be made to break by one brother and put back together by the other. "Thank... you...." he whispered.
Daemon purred again and looked at the tekkie. "Be right there, cutie," he replied, and smirked as the young man gave a little meep and skittered off.
Angel flicked the butterfly knife closed so that it grazed his skin again and sat up, holding Gerard on his lap carefully. "Let's go," he said, his accent suddenly gone.
Spook looked down at Angel, his eyes glazed over with lust and surrender. "Go, eh where?" he asked his superiour and looked around in a daze, he'd seemed to have lost all track of where he was and what was in the plans. Just a minor mental short circuit, nothing to worry about.
Daemon chuckled. "Your public awaits, little brother," he said, scooping him off of Angel's lap and standing. Angel stood as well, as composed as ever. It was frightening how quickly they could do that.
Spook blinked and shook his head, he slapped his palms together in a loud sound then suddenly, he seemed as clear and lucid at the others. "Right. Lead me on Brother..." he said, and fell into step with the other two, but just a bit behind them.
Daemon smirked again, putting his arm around Spook's shoulder and Angel on the other shoulder so that they crisscrossed on his back. They waited just a moment as they were introduced and then walked onto the set, pulling Spook with them, both of them dazzling as ever really.
Matt Lauer finishes grinning at the camera and stands, offering his hand to them to shake, Daemon's first, Angel's second, and then finally, to Spook.
Spook shook the hosts hands and grinned, showing his recently professionally created fangs in a feral grin at Matt. He grinned like he was lunch. "Charmed..." he said, and then let go of his and and glanced out at the studio audience in curiosity to see their reactions to him and his brothers.
It was dead silent in the audience. Matt let go of his hand a little quickly, as if nervous that Spook would rip him apart. It wasn't an unheard of fear really. The audience seemed to collectively catch its breath-- perhaps it was part awe?-- and then there was clapping.
Daemon and Angel gave their own predatory, but extremely winning, smiles, as the applause crested and faded. They sat in the arranged seats and the host sat behind his desk thingie.
Spook followed the leads of the others and took his seat and folded his hands neatly in his lap. Oh. That feels nice. Oh yeah, can't do that HERE. He thought to himself and he reached into his pocket and pulled out the steel exercise balls and began to swirl them around in his hand again. He looked slowly around the set, and grinned wide at any he made eye contact with. So this was what fame was like. It was nice.
"So...." the host said, squirming a little. "The Brothers Kray have a long lost member?" he asked, looking at them.
Daemon smirked a little as Spook began to play with the exercise balls. He knew he was horny.
"Now Matt," Angel replied in that perfect lack of accent. "Don't be coy with us, love."
Spook looked over as he was mentioned, if obliquely and GRINNED at Matt again. His pale skin, accentuated by dark eye makeup made him look ghastly enough with out the sharpened toothy grin. "I was a prize in a box of cereal...." Spook muttered, then grinned at Angel.
Angel grinned a little back and tossed a strand of hair from his face, lighting up one of his own fags. They couldn't smoke on set but they didn't care, and noone was going to tell them not to.
Daemon chuckled and sat forward. "You see," he said to Matt. "It was one of those "collect so many box tops and send them in for a prize" deals. And well, I'm just a rice crispies man, and I realized I had enough box tops and sent for the Spook model..."
Spook giggled. This was all far too amusing. He liked being a prize. He felt wanted here, loved, treasured. The sex and pain was great too. "There's more of my sort where I came from if you want us to mail you one of your very own." he said, then grinned wide at Matt. "You could use a little friend I think,"
The host smiled a little back, their humor getting him to relax a little. Daemon and Angel had said they were there for publicity, not to fuck anything up. Well, mostly for publicity. They did what they wanted and Spook knew this: if it struck them to suddenly massacre people live, they would.
"So where did you really come from? Are the rumours that you were Daemon's in-prison accomplice true?" the host asked.
Spook looked to Daemon for a cue before answering, and decided what was wrong with the truth? All of his past was public knowledge anyway. "We met in prison, yes. I was seeking a path, a meaning to my life. I was doing 15 years for murder, but as you know, I didn't come close to being there for 15. Daemon, and later Angel, gave me the map to the path I needed to walk." he smiled. "I am originally from Jersey. It's still my spiritual home, but I tend to roam a lot now, with my new family." he beamed, and looked back and forth between Angel and Daemon.
"You make it seem almost picturesque," Matt commented, and Daemon snickered.
"Now you're mocking us," he said. "Now let me tell you something. Some people have an incredible light, a possibility to them. These people are either given the tools they need, one way or the other, to blossom the way they should-- which is what happened to Angel and I, given our family history and all that-- and some people, some people are squashed into a box, their light locked away, and this on its own is torture. Some people suffocate and their lights go out: they turn into mindless drones. And some people burst out. If it's a negative situation, when they burst out, they burst out with a vengeance, and people get hurt. When Spooky burst, he landed in prison, back in a box. And I let him out, and Angel let us out."
Angel nodded, flicking his ashes to the ground. --
"Let me add something to that," the shorter, older brother said. "Every person on Earth has that light. You do, I do, every single person in our audience does. Everyone. But a lot of people get put out. Most people get put out. They settle. The agree to just nod and trudge on with the 'accepted path'.
"I'm not an anarchist. Christ, how could I be, with what we have going on! But I'm still a fucked up little streetpunk way on the inside. Or not so much on the inside. And I do believe in certain freedoms."
|
|
| The start of a story. |
[31 Mar 2005|08:38pm] |
Inspired by Gerard, and the My Chemical Romance song, "Vampires will never hurt you."
It was a Hellishly cold night that night. Rain drummed without mercy on the walls and windows of the Tavern. It was the Bastard Son, set out in the grassy highlands of Ireland.
The inclement weather was not much of a deterrent to the locals, nor to the two Americans sitting at a table in the back of the Pub. Both were dressed similarly, long oilcloth duster coats that were perfect for protection from the elements, or other forces. They also contained many pockets and pouches for holding weapons both lethal and obvious and benign and subtle.
He looked older than his 28 years, jet hair fell in clumped strands to his shoulders and swept across his pale forehead. Hazel eyes that had seen too much peered out against the black hair and pale skin. The smile under the nose was quick to appear, and just as quick to go to a sneer when required.
She on the other hand, didn't look her full age, but the miles and years of toil and war could be seen in her eyes. Her dark burgundy hair was pulled back in to a long braid, and blue green eyes contemplated the various rings and bracelets she wore for lack of anything else to look at right then.
"I forget, who's turn to buy?" he asked in a raspy voice that sounded like he'd already been drinking and smoking for the entire night.
"Yours." She replied in a deadpan and leaned back, and draped an arm on the back of the worn booth seat. "You always have a lapse of memory when it's your turn to buy." she said wryly and then looked over as a fetching Irish lad in an apron approached the table to take their order.
"Rotten night, eh mate?" he asked brightly. "What can we get you to chase off the chill?" he asked as he turned to the male first.
He raised his eyebrows, and sighed, "Two doubles, in tall glasses, Balvenie, 18 year old." he said without hesitation and turned to stare at the woman, who was still looking in an apparent casual manner at the waiter. He watched her, watch him, then he was gone and with a sigh she turned to look back at her companion as she rested her elbow on the worn wooden table and looked at him in a tired manner.
"He's entirely too young for you." he sneered and leaned back into his seat at the booth and draped his arm over the back.
She raised her eyebrows at him, and smiled slowly, "So, what, you are my chaparone now? It's up to you who I may like and shag?" she asked softly, clearly amused. "I would be amused if I thought this was based in jealousy, but since it's just some petty obsession of yours, it bores me..." she said then made a point of keeping her eyes on the waiter while he fetched the drinks, just to annoy him.
"It is most certainly NOT jealousy, it's the pure and simple fact that we need to remain focused, prepared and aware at all times."
"Did I teach you that?" she sighed, "Lord, you need to get laid. More than I do...."
|
|
| Some background... |
[14 Mar 2005|09:58am] |
This bit explains Gerard's (Purity's) background in the following Fic and Rp stuff from Agoura Hills RPG on GreatestJournal
Their gig was this. Davey, met Gerard when Gerard was 19, and at a Gay club Halloween party. They hit it off, and Davey claimed and collared Gerard, naming him Purity because, while Davey was all hair dyed, piereced, and sexually experienced, Gerard was still anally a virgin and unmarked. So, they agreed that he would stay that way. No tattoos, no piercings, no intercourse. Only oral sex and masturbation. This was fine with Gerard as he was a BreederMale anyway. So life was fine until the Monthly Pet Party.
The Masters and Pets would meet at this mansion once a month for elegant dinner parties, then after dinner, the Masters would sit in chairs, sip cognac and the pets would "play" in a pit of pillows on the floor. No one was allowed to fuck Purity, but he could suck or get sucked off, etc. This annoyed the host as all the other pets were shared amongst the other pets, but everyone respected t heir boundaries.
So after the Play Session was over, everyone would go to their suites for t he night, have a nightcap, t hen fuck, play or do whatever the Pets and masters did. Well, the last time they did this, the Host drugged all of the drinks with various things.... Davey and Purity NEVER did drugs, and VERY light drinking. So they had their nightcaps, went to bed and things went very bad...
Gerard got GBH in his, and Davey got X. It brought Davey's base inpulses he had been able to keep in check all this time, and he flipped. He raped a hallucinating Gerard repeatedly.
Gerard passed out in the middle of it, unable to deal and when he woke up next to a passed out Davey, he was torn up, literally, and there was blood on him and all over Davey from the rape. He freaked out and had to be taken away by paramedics. He was locked in a Psyche Ward for 48 hours for his overdose, then released back to his parents. His parents had to pay 15,000 for this little episode, and told him, "We have tolerated your Alternative Lifestyle long enough, now it's cost us money, a lot of money, you need to move on with your life", and disowned him.
Gerard went to his apartment, found a dozen roses and an apology letter from Davey, and freaked out. He took off the collar, packed his shit, and left for California without a word to anyone. He had had long brown hair, which he cut shorter, dyed it black, and never looked back. Cut to now. The game in progress....
|
|
| Of Pets and Masters |
[27 Feb 2005|01:19am] |
From the GreatestJournal RPG,Agoura_Park. Agoura Park is a Celebrity PB AU Universe with Mpreg story lines. Yeah...
WHO: Gerard Way and Davey Havok
WHAT: After "Purity" leaves his Master and Pet Lifestyle behind in New Jersey, it catches up with him in California unexpectedly one night. Davey seeks after a two year search to reclaim his innocent Pet after he ran from him and The Life two years ago.
NOTES: Mild torture, abduction, B&D tones. Rough first draft, minimal editing done. Nyar!!
( The bells! The bells! )
|
|
| Boysmut for Friday |
[18 Jun 2004|12:07pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 horny |
] |
Well, since VIKTOR can't seem to fuck or get fucked IN CHARACTER in ANY of the games he is in.... He gets his rocks off OOCLY... In this scene, he goes to a Pub in London's West End, where Muggles and Wizards mingle. It doesn't take him long to get picked up and shagged silly.
WHO: Viktor!OOC and Kyril, run by CelticMoonKitty from the Incubi Lucidi Game.
WHAT: Man/Boysex, Viktor's about 19 here.
WHERE: In a hotel.
NOTES: NC-17 Yall. Not proofed or beta'd. So deal.
( Not for Minors )
|
|
| Random boy smut |
[22 Apr 2004|02:48pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
horny |
] |
Did I post this before? If I did, it wasn't done. Now it is.
Who: Viktor Krum and Alexi Dimitrov -- Harry Potterverse
Where: Alexi's cottage in Bulgarian, middle of winter, Christmas Eve.
What: "Nice to see you again Comrade, pass the lube." NC-17 Rating.
Notes: RAW, un-beta'd, typed with an overly horny muse, and a broken arm, so cut me a bit of slack. Enjoy!
( Cold outside, steamy inside. )
|
|
| Work in Progress.... |
[07 Mar 2004|08:27am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 enthralled |
] |
Random Smut OOC because Viktor can't seem to get it ICly lately. He's driving me bonkers. Lucius is played by the lovely ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) eferii whom I met at some game I've forgotten....
[EDIT: March 10th -- More added]
( Parlor, Spider, Fly. )
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
