| Pages: 1 2 3 |
Chance Lafayette
|
![[*]](./images/aventure/default_icon.gif) posted on 4-27-2006 at 08:05 PM |
|
|
( shore, sir. )
Chance Lafayette - DE Interrogation Unit
"Like the naked lead the blind, I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.
Sucker love I always find, someone to bruise and leave behind.
All alone in space and time, there's nothing here, but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue,
Every me and every you."
Like the rain, this too shall pass
Like a kidney stone, this too shall pass
It's just a broken heart, son,
This pain will pass away
"mother nature's a whore,"
said the shotgun to the head;
sono Katii just bought a .22 and is goin' chris huntin'
|
|
|
Violin Hanna
Bruised Knees
Posts: 419
Registered: 12-29-2003
Member Is Offline
Mood: composed
|
| posted on 1-26-2007 at 10:23 PM |
|
|
<What one of Jack Purdue's known lackeys was doing back in Hogsmeade - let alone London - was up for debate and gossip. Fortunately the
man's reputation tailed along with his 'friends,' and no one was about to talk about that sort of thing within ten feet of Violin
Hanna.>
<He wasn't even sitting - the single beer in his hand was to settle his nerves enough to travel again with the particular items found in the
house. If one of the many people keeping such an obvious distance decided to ask what was happening, they'd have all been disappointed. Purdue
wasn't coming back. Violin wasn't coming back. Nothing was going on but the Irishman retrieving a forgotten few personal possessions from
the dilapidating house.>
<Any emotion returning brought up had been left at the threshold. Any history he and Jack shared had been dumped off there, as well, because he
wasn't going back to cater to that man. Not yet, and the absence would likely drive Jack to hate him, but Violin...needed a week to himself.
Starting tonight.>
(( suck. ))
You are still a whisper on my lips
A feeling at my fingertips
That\'s pulling at my skin.
Daniel
Nicholas, Jame, Andrew, Aya, Justin, Delaney
|
|
|
Chance Lafayette
|
| posted on 1-26-2007 at 10:33 PM |
|
|
<Cold. Every time Chance laughed, it was the kind of noise a sociopath made. No mirth, no amusement, no warmth, just a smooth, cruel kind of sound
that flowed out hollow.>
<There was a reason for that, though. Whitney - or at least that'd been her pet name according to his partner - had gone and kicked a couple
of heavy bruises into his ribcage and scratched thick slivers of skin out of his arm with her artificial nails. The girl hadn't liked being
forced down into the shallow grave they'd been trying to work her into, and since Alcox was a fucking lazy asshole, Chance had been the one doing
all the work without muttering a spell to keep the bitch still - something about residual magic and a long sentence. There was still dirt hiding in
the creases of his cloak and it annoyed our hero so thoroughly that the first pub 'round the corner from their aparation spot was home
to the lucky crew that'd get him good and drunk.>
<At least the majority of dirt was in her throat.>
Oi. Everything, please.
<Chance didn't wait to take his barstool before shouting out his order. In fact, he was still wading slowly through the sparse sea of
customers, eyeing each one for a recognition, before out of the corner of his eye he caught a little flash of soft, long red.>
<And froze.>
<The next few moments ticked by like quicksand. Every muscle lining Chance's narrow neck seemed to seize up all at once and his stomach
roiled, thrashing, he imagined, against the surrounding organs. It was a riot in his torso. There was smoke in his brain after the explosion,
and his eyes moved slow, excruciatingly so, just to risk a look at what he thought he'd seen in prayer that it just wasn't. But even if he
hadn't been drunk every night he'd tended across from Violin, he would've recognized that shit. The little fuck. Skinny Irish
bastard just standing there like he wasn't a grand apparition of something Chance had half-successfully forgotten and traded for the
lump of Sparrow he was so often around. His fingers twitched in spasm and all of a sudden, he was having those homicidal thoughts all over again, all
for so many, many reasons.>
<So he stared.>
Chance Lafayette - DE Interrogation Unit
"Like the naked lead the blind, I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.
Sucker love I always find, someone to bruise and leave behind.
All alone in space and time, there's nothing here, but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue,
Every me and every you."
Like the rain, this too shall pass
Like a kidney stone, this too shall pass
It's just a broken heart, son,
This pain will pass away
"mother nature's a whore,"
said the shotgun to the head;
sono Katii just bought a .22 and is goin' chris huntin'
|
|
|
Violin Hanna
Bruised Knees
Posts: 419
Registered: 12-29-2003
Member Is Offline
Mood: composed
|
| posted on 1-26-2007 at 10:49 PM |
|
|
<The voice did nothing to draw his attention. Most patrons were by now drunk enough to think shouting was an appropriate indoor level, and those
nearby had to be louder just to be heard. So one more voice, regardless of familiarity, couldn't trigger reaction.>
<Violin might not have noticed Chance at all, actually, if he hadn't finished the last of his beer and turned away from the bar. But oh, once
he was facing the room, once that face was staring him down? Fine hairs along the nape of his neck prickled, itched, and Violin actually
shivered.>
...you.
<The noise around them became static, but the words struggling out of his mouth still weren't loud enough even in his own head. What words
could have formed a proper greeting, anyway? What could he really say to the lover Jack had abandoned, when he knew so well how it felt to be dumped
out on the porch in the cold?>
<But he didn't move; he could scarcely breathe, and as badly as he wanted to melt into the floor, the body wasn't willing. Blue
dissolved any amount of inner strength and resolve possessed upon entering this bar. Because he was caught now, trapped, pinned in the line of fire
by the one fucking bastard he had always wished dead.>
<Fellow bartender or not, in those eternal seconds, Violin wanted to cut that pale throat open for everything he had done to Jack Purdue.>
You are still a whisper on my lips
A feeling at my fingertips
That\'s pulling at my skin.
Daniel
Nicholas, Jame, Andrew, Aya, Justin, Delaney
|
|
|
Chance Lafayette
|
| posted on 1-27-2007 at 02:46 AM |
|
|
<One step lessened the amount of space between them. And then another, and another, and another, until Chance was stalking across the room towards
Violin and the muscles in his face pulled for a thin, malicious parody of a smile. Even if he couldn't hear every sliver of emotion his old
colleague had packed into a single syllable, Chance knew what he'd said and he let his imagination form Violin's delicious accent and tone
around it.>
Mm, yes.
<Not only that, but Violin was no longer privy to any breath of personal space when all one hundred sixty something pounds of Lafayette drew up in
front of him so closely that if Chance had been perverse enough to sink his teeth into the other man's lower lip, he would've barely needed
to move.>
Me.
<And he wanted to ask so badly where Violin's boss was, why he was here, where he'd gotten the fucking balls
to show his face in London of all places, but Chance held his tongue with nothing but perfect self-discipline. He was dangerously obsessed with
watching Violin's facial expressions and the little nuances behind his eyes instead; was even cold enough to raise one long arm and rest the palm
of it cozily against whatever surface just so happened to be supporting Violin's narrow little back, because it turned out boxing him in one
handedly was extremely entertaining. Enjoyable. Or, well, not quite so much, depending on how finely grated the Irishman's temper was
tonight.>
I hope you're not staying too long. <Any lower and he would've been hissing through his teeth.> I'll send your corpse back with
the divorce papers.
Chance Lafayette - DE Interrogation Unit
"Like the naked lead the blind, I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.
Sucker love I always find, someone to bruise and leave behind.
All alone in space and time, there's nothing here, but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue,
Every me and every you."
Like the rain, this too shall pass
Like a kidney stone, this too shall pass
It's just a broken heart, son,
This pain will pass away
"mother nature's a whore,"
said the shotgun to the head;
sono Katii just bought a .22 and is goin' chris huntin'
|
|
|
Violin Hanna
Bruised Knees
Posts: 419
Registered: 12-29-2003
Member Is Offline
Mood: composed
|
| posted on 1-28-2007 at 08:27 PM |
|
|
<For each step Chance took, a different part of Violin's body began to tense, until, when that taller form suddenly pinned him, he was almost
shaking through scarcely-contained rage. This was familiar; perhaps not from Chance, and not nearly as pleasant and predatory as Jack. But he had
been cornered before, even against his own bar, by men far less fortunate than Jack and Chance. This could be the exception - so stunned by such an
unwanted meeting, there hadn't been time enough to reach for the small knife tucked into the inner lining of his coat.>
I can't imagine you'd value petty revenge over your own life.
<Because Purdue would never sit back and watch one of his own murdered by a jealous ex. Even if the Lafayette bastard had wormed his way into
their lives for quite awhile, that gap, the little niche reserved for special treatment, had closed up without him.>
<Thin fingers pushed at the curtain of red threatening to overwhelm slight features. Moving at all was certainly a feat, when inhaling could have
just about brought his chest against Chance's. Emerald had narrowed above the feral, provoked half-arch of a snarl, and in those hues a dying
light struggled to spark. Tending to Jack's moodswings had taken a lot out of the Irishman these past few months, the physical effects of which
were visible only during daylight hours. Chance took his position in importance for too long, but now that that had been reclaimed? He wanted
freedom again; a fucking soul of his own again.>
Get out of my face, lover.
(( sorry. sucks. ))
You are still a whisper on my lips
A feeling at my fingertips
That\'s pulling at my skin.
Daniel
Nicholas, Jame, Andrew, Aya, Justin, Delaney
|
|
|
Chance Lafayette
|
| posted on 1-28-2007 at 08:51 PM |
|
|
( sucks like a good blowjob. HAH. )
You are such a pathetic dog.
<He hadn't thought. He hadn't rehearsed this. There was no occlumency in the way Chance hated Violin; it was a mixture of jealousy and
resentment and superiority over this thing, this pathetic excuse for a skeleton he was standing in front of him. Every single word that came out of
his mouth was pricelessly genuine just because of the select cluster of nerves such a person had grated raw, so yes, that scimitar-hook of a smile
abandoned Chance's face half a second after the dialogue started.>
Why, oh why do you follow that man around? He made such an ass of you every fucking night he dragged me up to his room with you watching with
those big, sad eyes of yours. He didn't care then, and he doesn't care now. You're a fuck receptacle because you rate above an eight,
but if anyone had ever actually loved you, they certainly wouldn't go screwing whatever wandered into their house above you.
<Unchecked anger burned so cleanly, too. Chance backed off, but not much, not enough to give Violin an abundance of breathing room or an escape
route that he couldn't cut off abruptly.>
And don't ever assume you know where I rate revenge. Aside from the fact that I was fucking your boss while he humiliated you, you know nothing
about me.
Chance Lafayette - DE Interrogation Unit
"Like the naked lead the blind, I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.
Sucker love I always find, someone to bruise and leave behind.
All alone in space and time, there's nothing here, but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue,
Every me and every you."
Like the rain, this too shall pass
Like a kidney stone, this too shall pass
It's just a broken heart, son,
This pain will pass away
"mother nature's a whore,"
said the shotgun to the head;
sono Katii just bought a .22 and is goin' chris huntin'
|
|
|
Violin Hanna
Bruised Knees
Posts: 419
Registered: 12-29-2003
Member Is Offline
Mood: composed
|
| posted on 1-31-2007 at 09:34 PM |
|
|
<Violin used his new-found space not to make a dart for the exit, but fold either arm over his chest. Would have been a perfect example of a
tantrum-inducing pout, that, had the lower lip normally jutting forward not been trapped in a hard, white line.>
Why do you care what I do? Besides, it isn't like he and I were a couple. I was jealous of you, sure, but it's not like he offered me the
world and unconditional love or anything. Lots of days we hated each other. We still do. He isn't part of your life anymore, so mind your
own, asshole.
<Jack wasn't seeing anyone now but his work. When he slept with anyone, it was usual Violin, usually in a way that was detached yet
necessary. No mile long list of lovers or fiances threatened the love they shared for one another. Psychosis, however, was a different tale, which
Violin adamantly refused to touch upon.>
<Jack was not his boyfriend, fiance, lifepartner - nothing but an available lover and a lifelong friend. And that was where Chance was making his
mistake, basing his assumptions upon the violent reactions the Irishman had once had over that long-gone relationship.>
He doesn't care about you anymore, and he doesn't want you to care about him. Go home and fuck a bird or two.
<Whether such information was really reliable was a question only Purdue himself could have answered. Or avoided. For a time depression ruined
the move to a new country, but only shortly. Jack took up in business, the occasional affair, giving his boys a looser collar, so long as they
returned home to him every night. But the leash attached to that collar was still stretched tight without room for misstep.>
<Life resumed a steady pace until bird news reached their leader. Then it was back down into darkness for all of them for..perhaps a week.
Shorter than after the move, but still noticeable. Still a mourning period.>
(( mm, taking liberties. love it. ))
You are still a whisper on my lips
A feeling at my fingertips
That\'s pulling at my skin.
Daniel
Nicholas, Jame, Andrew, Aya, Justin, Delaney
|
|
|
Chance Lafayette
|
| posted on 2-1-2007 at 02:25 AM |
|
|
Hnh.
<So focused was Chance on Violin's little arm-crossing statement that he barely so much as nodded towards the bartender when a cold glass of
strong-smelling alcohol clinked down onto the bar a couple of inches away from where his hand was pressed. From hair-trigger temper to amusement
fueled by pity; it turned out that without occluding, he could never quite latch onto a concrete emotion without switching it up for something
else.>
'Why do I care what you do?' You're here, for fuck's sake. Have you boozed yourself stupid already? Stop trying to justify
yourself - to me, of all people. It just makes you look even sadder than you already, quite clearly I might add, are. All I'd
have to do to null all of that into shit is mention Raeus and how you pawned him off, and poof. You're pathetic again.
<Chance's left shoulder lolled in half-shrug. Raeus Varro, devout Jesus Lover extraordinaire, crying on his shirt over how Violin just
couldn't love him like people did in movies.>
You also know as well as I do that Jack completely and totally enjoys my attention. He never cared how it was given, but he liked it. Always enjoyed
the way I moan, I suppose. <And another, as though he didn't particularly mind either way what specific part of him Jack Purdue craved enough
for the taboo of exclusivity, the same way he didn't care what about him appealed to Nicholas. As long as there was something.> That he
doesn't care about me? You should've just stopped there. I certainly don't need an invitation to fuck Nicholas either, thank
you. I'm fairly sure I could just roll over, stick it in his mouth, and get a decent suck off.
<It was unfortunate that Chance had never formed a suitable nickname for Violin the way he had for anyone else he found mildly entertaining.
Nicholas was birdy, Rowan was ice queen, Jame was damnation. The only one that had ever occured was 'instrument', and that seemed far too
vulgar to toss around a bar.>
Can I buy you a drink, you precious, bitchy thing?
<Now that affection? That was fake.>
Chance Lafayette - DE Interrogation Unit
"Like the naked lead the blind, I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.
Sucker love I always find, someone to bruise and leave behind.
All alone in space and time, there's nothing here, but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue,
Every me and every you."
Like the rain, this too shall pass
Like a kidney stone, this too shall pass
It's just a broken heart, son,
This pain will pass away
"mother nature's a whore,"
said the shotgun to the head;
sono Katii just bought a .22 and is goin' chris huntin'
|
|
|
Violin Hanna
Bruised Knees
Posts: 419
Registered: 12-29-2003
Member Is Offline
Mood: composed
|
| posted on 2-8-2007 at 09:58 AM |
|
|
I never owed that kid a thing. He was obsessive and bipolar or something.
<The longer Chance spoke, the harder teeth sank into either cheek. Low blows all around, was it? Intense hatred boiled down, seethed beneath the
surface, to make way for what mention of Raeus brought. His failure; his chance at getting out and moving on, and weakness had prevailed. Even for
something as talented and innocent as Raeus Varro, Violin hadn't had the strength in him to leave Jack, to leave the security of a good home and
the insecurity of a convenient fuck, for a kid that really needed someone.>
<Despite the faint taste of blood in the back of his mouth, Violin didn't so much as twitch, simply bit harder and tightened the shield of his
arms. Months he'd needed to forget that face, the way those slight hands had touched him, now brought to a crashing ruin. Memory could be
hidden away, but never really erased, just as the pain would never really run out.>
That's nice to know. Really. Go on and find him, see if he'll take you in again. We'd all just love to have you back.
<This was old news - things that Jack and Chance did behind closed doors remained behind closed doors, so no one really knew the specifics. No one
understood most of their business ventures, and no one really understood the mutual attraction, be it purely physical or something deeper. Truth be
told, no one wanted to know, and that was far better for all of them. Thinking in such a manner backed the snide way he was able to reply
with.>
Sure, if I can break a few of your teeth first, you pretentious cunt.
|
|
|
Chance Lafayette
|
| posted on 7-2-2007 at 07:40 PM |
|
|
He was an artist. He loved you. He told me so. Such a waste.
<Chance could remember Raeus' lapses into insanity quite clearly, actually. He could still feel the wet handprints at his thighs and perfectly
recount just how excruciating it had been to nudge the little waif back into his bathwater with a few words about the sanctity of his
feelings towards Violin while remaining fully clothed. It was one of his better moments, really, so much more charitable and saint-like than most
others, and fuck if he didn't want to break a bottle over Violin's head and fuck Raeus silly at the same damn time; Violin made Chance so
sadistic and so sick with the feeling that it was dizzying. This..this was like an out of body experience, a two years ago flashback.>
But no.
<A thick swallow of the caustic stuff in his glass shot straight into Chance's chest and warmed him up all over. Sweet aftertaste, but so
strong that it nearly made him ill - to hell with vulgarity, then, it was just easy to lean forward that little bit and lick the left side of
Violin's mouth, fresh with the taste of alcohol. Perverse. Even moreso in the way that Chance didn't bother to move back much at all
afterwards.>
You like it, Violin? Vodka. I don't know what else.
<Such pretty mouths, those Irish. What he was practically shaking to do and what he'd held himself back from were two completely different
things; a taste wasn't cheating, not when the level of restraint from not bending him over backwards and making him scream was just so
high. It wasn't such a good thing for a manifestation of Jack Purdue to be in front of him, then. Not when that solid sort of numbness was
sliding in place of Chance's better judgement, washing it over with instincts and urges and the terrible desire to control Violin in a
very violent way.>
<After all, Jack always came to retrieve his pets.>
Chance Lafayette - DE Interrogation Unit
"Like the naked lead the blind, I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.
Sucker love I always find, someone to bruise and leave behind.
All alone in space and time, there's nothing here, but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue,
Every me and every you."
Like the rain, this too shall pass
Like a kidney stone, this too shall pass
It's just a broken heart, son,
This pain will pass away
"mother nature's a whore,"
said the shotgun to the head;
sono Katii just bought a .22 and is goin' chris huntin'
|
|
|
Mikaël Ashton
El Cap-ee-tain
Posts: 1058
Registered: 11-14-2004
Member Is Offline
Mood: strung out
|
| posted on 7-12-2009 at 07:16 PM |
|
|
LATER
<Mika barhopped on the regular. Most of the local crowds had seen him either tucked into a booth surrounded by his typical ring of scummy, skeezy
friends, or in one of the bathrooms trying to organize fights between guys who had had one too many. Being here tonight wasn't anything out of the
ordinary at all - much better for him, even though the kid he was looking for probably didn't pay enough attention to figure out a new face trying to
chat him up wasn't a good thing, Chance said. Two hours prior, Mika and Richboy one had been holed up in a musty smelling rental house on the poorer
side of the boneyard playing cards and snorting the low grade crap some pre-teen had been selling on the corner. Shittiest fucking poker player ever,
he'd said, what the fuck kind of legilimens couldn't figure out when someone was bluffing? Stupid as Chance was with cards, his instructions were
pretty cut and dry. No hallucinogens, no smack, nothing over two beers, and no bullshit. He was supposed to pick Jame up, drop him off, and go right
back to his busy evening of punching drunks into urinals for a laugh. Get the thing from point A to point B, and even though they were friends, this
scumbag asshole threw his buddy into prison - the paycheck would keep Mika in crack heaven for a good couple of weeks. You know, so he'd forget about
how bad poor Gabriel suffered while he was dealing heroin to make the people responsible feel better.>
<Money was money. It just took a lot of it to make him want to spend ten minutes around that Devir kid, especially after hearing about the thing
with the mobile phone video and the immediate relative fucking. No thanks. Debt collectors and rehab counselors were a friendlier sight than something
like that, even where he was concerned.>
<What Mika didn't completely understand was how there wasn't a specific angle he was supposed to be working with this whole wanna fuck?
thing. No rehearsed pickup lines, no tricks, no laced drinks, just have fun with it. No matter how many years he'd known Chance and Chance's
stupid temper, he could never quite swallow the fucking sense that Richboy never completely told the whole story when he was pulling shit like this.
There couldn't have been a kid left in Hogsmeade that didn't think twice about who he was fucking off to spend the night with, not after everything
that had gone down in the last couple of months. Chance disagreed, shrugged, and went right back to working on something in the fuse box that kept
spitting sparks every few minutes.>
<Now, he wasn't a lucky guy. Redheads stood out. Redheads smothered and soaked in tattoo ink stood out even more. Redheads smothered and soaked in
tattoo ink that barely passed as five-six and screamed in their thick accents through a couple of false teeth, those were unforgettable. Poor Mika
tried to sneak into these bars and speak proper English not above a normal inside voice - three days he'd been at this and hadn't seen the little shit
Chance was looking for. Once he did, that was another story, but so far, this operation was bust. Here was night number four, and he was getting a
little tired of being quiet, polite, and putting so much thought into forming complete sentences while trying to get roaring drunk. A pair of eyes
caked in days old eyeliner squinted, scowling into the last fourth of his beer.>
Mikaël Ashton; Quidditch Teaching Anger Management Problem
\"You found your way,
So why keep asking me?
Nothing common suits you,
You live again in solitary.
Look away for now
beautiful alone
Now who decides to settle down?
Maybe nobody really cares --
What\'s this to you anyway?
Something dirty\'s got you, dear
Makes me want to be with you
Something painful\'s with you, dear
Makes me want to be with you.\"
Katii is a lesbian who can\'t be bothered to put her name in her sig. <3fromchris!
|
|
|
Jame Devir
|
| posted on 7-12-2009 at 09:49 PM |
|
|
<Jame worked in a different manner. He barhopped, sure, but maybe once a week, after the steady supply of free drinks in exchange for a
one-nighter neither he nor his buyer would remember the next morning went and dried up. For a week, the regulars would see a too-skinny boy hugging
the bar and a glass of something strong. He would sit like this until some stranger came along and 'accidentally' happened upon him. Usually, these
weren't strangers - just people who knew Jame made weekly rounds of four bars in the area. Taverns, pubs, bars, whatever they were called, Jame found
the four he liked the most and stuck with them. The regulars - tired men, mostly, tossing back a few pints at the end of a work day - never paid him
much attention, as long as he stayed out of the way and took his perverted dealings elsewhere.>
<Two of the bars weren't that great for picking up a quick fuck or a round of drinks. They catered to the older, more watered down clientele. The
fourth - the one he as currently wandering through, turned up better results once a month, might have produced more if he broke his pattern. But Jame
wouldn't. He knew how to talk himself into sharing a bed for the night, and run off before the sun rose the next morning; he could talk a person into
a trading drinks for an under-the-table blow job; but he still didn't have a suitable friend or acquaintance to drag along. In short, Jame was lonely
wasteful brat filling his nights with drunken binges and anonymous sex he only half hoped to live through.>
<Better than being at home.>
<Two empty bottles and a disgusting, sticky mess of shot glasses landed on the bar, followed by Jame's hands pushing everything towards the
opposite side. Barely into the night and already flagging the bartender down for replacements, for himself and the two men occupying a table in the
back. There were trying to get him drunk, obviously...but hell, it was going to take all night if they kept buying him the cheap, weak shit.>
Jame Devir + Patron Saint to Liars and Fakes
I miss today, I miss the past
I miss my veins 'cause they've collapsed
A simple thought occurs to me
I'm face down on the tracks
The train is coming fast and it's not derailing
It's not the first time and this won't be the last
That my heart is failing
As the blood is rushing to my head and from my wrists
I'm in love with all the things I know I should resist
I cannot emphasize enough that my body
Is a badly designed poorly put together vessel,
Harboring these diminishing so-called vital organs
Hope my heart goes first, I hope my heart goes first
Dan
|
|
|
Mikaël Ashton
El Cap-ee-tain
Posts: 1058
Registered: 11-14-2004
Member Is Offline
Mood: strung out
|
| posted on 7-12-2009 at 10:31 PM |
|
|
<Idiot, idiot, idiot, not too bad looking when it came to bar light, couldn't throw a punch, even better than not bad looking, idiot -- hold up
there a second, back up past the last idiot, and that matched what Mika could remember about Jame Devir pretty good. Oh, sure, he'd lost what looked
like fifty pounds, filled out of his old childish looks and gained a few angles on his face, but that was him as sure as shit was brown. What would
have been a roaring good time full of celebrations and extra beers because of this brand new discovery went straight to hell as soon as Mika figured
out that those two goons flanking Jame's sides were a couple of shots away from saying fuck it to the rape charges and unzipping him right
then and there. This was embarrassing on a level he could have sworn he'd burned out of his head a long time ago with all those LSD streaking trips.
Not only was Mika supposed to drag this bag of bones off to his ol'-buddy-ol'-pal, he had to figure out how to dispatch the two amigos without getting
himself punched in the face.>
<Okay, fine, throw another ten percent onto his payday for having to think like some scumbag bimbo, and this was on. First thing Mika did was get
in real good with the bartender, - who had, sadly, thrown him out more than once - very soberly intercept that next round, send it back, and replace
it with straight no-rocks no-fancy shit 192 proof Polmos Spirytus. Then, getting right up on his booted tippy-toes and using his finest proper
English, asked to hand-deliver that drink all by himself. Not those drinks, that drink, because the two morons cutting him out of an
easy sell didn't get to drink on Mika's tab, no fuh-ken way, no fuh-ken how.>
Gentlemen.
<Regardless of how properly he could spit words out through that heavy Czech accent, context just wasn't clicking. What Mika meant was 'good
evening, sex-face and attached douches'.>
You - <Vodka tipped towards Jame, naturally.> are fucking hot. And people who are fucking hot deserve fucking strong shit, because you don't
seem like a fucking bitch to me. And you two - <..Hand..tipped towards the other two.> also get drinks on me. They're at the bar, though. You're
gonna have to go get them up there. In fact, if you stay up there, I'll keep 'em coming all night.
<Why the change in attitude? Oh, Mika bought Jame's drink all by himself, absolutely. But if his friends took the bait, they'd be enjoying their
beverages courtesy of a Richboy who happened to have a tab and a bad reputation with the 'tender.>
Mikaël Ashton; Quidditch Teaching Anger Management Problem
\"You found your way,
So why keep asking me?
Nothing common suits you,
You live again in solitary.
Look away for now
beautiful alone
Now who decides to settle down?
Maybe nobody really cares --
What\'s this to you anyway?
Something dirty\'s got you, dear
Makes me want to be with you
Something painful\'s with you, dear
Makes me want to be with you.\"
Katii is a lesbian who can\'t be bothered to put her name in her sig. <3fromchris!
|
|
|
Jame Devir
|
| posted on 7-13-2009 at 02:06 PM |
|
|
<Oh no, a dilemma for two people not exactly well equipped in the brains department. Beside them, they had an attractive young boy who talked like
it wouldn't take a whole night of drinking to get him in bed and doing things their wives wouldn't even talk about. On the other, drinks for the
night, just for giving up their spots beside the barfly, who was just sitting there, chin propped on his hand, regarding the stranger with only mild
interest. He didn't care which one of them took him home, so long as he got a comfortable bed for the night. Over his head - Jame was almost
touching 5'9, but that was still short compared to the towering things flanking him - the two exchanged drunk glances, shrugged almost in tandem, and
pissed off to go get their drinks.>
<Jame watched them go wordlessly, then narrowed green on the drink the boy had.>
That had better be something decent. I haven't been double-teamed in weeks.
((rushshort. sorry. :B ))
Jame Devir + Patron Saint to Liars and Fakes
I miss today, I miss the past
I miss my veins 'cause they've collapsed
A simple thought occurs to me
I'm face down on the tracks
The train is coming fast and it's not derailing
It's not the first time and this won't be the last
That my heart is failing
As the blood is rushing to my head and from my wrists
I'm in love with all the things I know I should resist
I cannot emphasize enough that my body
Is a badly designed poorly put together vessel,
Harboring these diminishing so-called vital organs
Hope my heart goes first, I hope my heart goes first
Dan
|
|
|
Mikaël Ashton
El Cap-ee-tain
Posts: 1058
Registered: 11-14-2004
Member Is Offline
Mood: strung out
|
| posted on 7-13-2009 at 07:07 PM |
|
|
<You know that feeling when you go to wherever to shoplift five dollars worth of shit you don't need while about thirty or forty security cameras
watch? And then, despite all this technology and security and the fact that you haven't even bothered to scratch the label off, you don't get caught?
Those first two seconds standing outside the doors, where there's no fanfare and no rent-a-cop and nobody pulling your arm back, that was how Mika
felt when the pair of gentlemen trying to work Jame over disappeared. No matter how much short-kid complex bullshit came out of his mouth,
there was a heart beating somewhere underneath at least six layers of leather and metal. Nobody but nobody could take a good, long look at somebody
like this Devir kid and not feel it digging at them - not the way he would have if, say, this were a cancer patient, but the kind of empty sadness
that came with really seeing something that was as close as it could be to giving up.>
<Two chipping, polished nails pushed the glass of vodka across the table to its rightful owner. That was bad, when the better option for the night
was a couple of morons fighting over who got the ass and who got the mouth.>
I'm sorry, baby. If it makes you feel any better, I gotta friend at my place that'll fulfill all the double teaming wishes your little head could
dream up. Failing that, I fuck so good it's like three whole people's doin' you at once.
<Aw, this was nasty. Mika slid himself down into one of the empty chairs and grinned as big as he could without trying to smother himself with one
hand. There was his constant bar scene, sure, but he'd never done the whole one nighter thing - in fact, Mika could boast a small, modest series of
four relationships from his third year up until now, and boy did it make this shit uncomfortable.>
But yup. It's good stuff. Some polish shit, strongest thing there's supposed to be next to pure grain alcohol.
Mikaël Ashton; Quidditch Teaching Anger Management Problem
\"You found your way,
So why keep asking me?
Nothing common suits you,
You live again in solitary.
Look away for now
beautiful alone
Now who decides to settle down?
Maybe nobody really cares --
What\'s this to you anyway?
Something dirty\'s got you, dear
Makes me want to be with you
Something painful\'s with you, dear
Makes me want to be with you.\"
Katii is a lesbian who can\'t be bothered to put her name in her sig. <3fromchris!
|
|
|
Jame Devir
|
| posted on 7-13-2009 at 09:26 PM |
|
|
I doubt that.
<No single one - or three - of his bar conquests ever truly satisfied him. They got what they wanted, sometimes in five minutes, sometimes after a
night of tedious fumbling and whiskey-dick frustration. Rough and fast, slow and careful, whatever his style, any man that took Jame home wouldn't
wake up unhappy. Even drunk Jame knew how to perform like a prize whore, would have been a top seller had he belonged to any brothel, because he knew
how to move body and mouth. Just a dance, something he'd perform for a night of paid drinking, cigarettes, anything valuable. As long as he wasn't
fucking for money, it wasn't prostitution, and he didn't feel quite as filthy. After all, what was there to do with his life anymore? School
wouldn't have him back; he was too old, too much of a problem. Gerrolt wouldn't let him go out on missions, alone or with others, after he refused to
torture Nicholas for initiation. No friends, no real home, no parents or normal, extended family - no point in being.>
<This whole bar scene? This game he kept playing at - like tonight, dressed in a simple snug black shirt and jeans, tapping a cigarette out of his
pack on the table as casual as any other bar patron - this was Jame handling life day by day, keeping himself alive by any means necessary. He didn't
feel bad for himself or wake up in the mornings, feeling for bruises or bite marks, and hate who he was. He just..went back to being a bit cold all
over.>
<As for what this guy and his friend could provide, well, Jame had his reasons for disagreeing. A person had to start thinking creatively once
fucking his own father lost its novelty. Jame tapped ash onto the scarred tabletop, sniffed his drink, and cringed.>
For fuck's sake, tell me you had them cut it with something. I don't want to die off one shot. Wouldn't want to miss out on a night with you, if
you're that good. Does your friend do DP?
<No matter what wars raged internally, Jame's expression fit the moment perfectly - one slender brow arched while lips curled into a soft smile,
broken slightly by the cigarette dangling from the middle of it.>
Jame Devir + Patron Saint to Liars and Fakes
I miss today, I miss the past
I miss my veins 'cause they've collapsed
A simple thought occurs to me
I'm face down on the tracks
The train is coming fast and it's not derailing
It's not the first time and this won't be the last
That my heart is failing
As the blood is rushing to my head and from my wrists
I'm in love with all the things I know I should resist
I cannot emphasize enough that my body
Is a badly designed poorly put together vessel,
Harboring these diminishing so-called vital organs
Hope my heart goes first, I hope my heart goes first
Dan
|
|
|
Mikaël Ashton
El Cap-ee-tain
Posts: 1058
Registered: 11-14-2004
Member Is Offline
Mood: strung out
|
| posted on 7-14-2009 at 05:42 PM |
|
|
<One pointy leather elbow draped across the back of his chair long enough for Mika to look over and check on his two buddies at the bar - one, two,
and they came off like they were doing pretty well over there. Fantastic.>
Don't be like that. You came to this bar - <This bar, the one whose table he was grinding a fingertip against.> to get from one state
to another state. The first one's sober, the second one's drunk. You can't tell me you wanted'a sit here all night sucking down bitchy shit until you
got there. You'd be peein' all night. Now this, what I got you, that gets you from point one to point two real fast. No soda stops, no mixer detours,
no fancy fuckin' olives, just straight up drunk. You aren't gonna die. Just take a little bitty drink if that's what you're worried about.
<DP? Consider the level in his sympathy reservoir dropping an inch for every messy double-stuffing fantasy that brought out of the
horrible dark sex-closet in Mika's brain - it wasn't the act itself that freaked him out, it was the idea of joining forces with Mister King Slut of
Slytherin long enough to hold both of their dicks together so that this particular have-not could ride the both of them straight into an orgasm. But
look at how cute he was over there, with that heart-melting smile and the eyebrow raise and everything. Feed Jame, get him under some decent lighting,
clean him off a little, he might just be that same skinny brat Mika had passed in the hallways once or twice on his way to a quidditch match. Hard to
believe that he only had a year on what was sitting across from him, wasn't it? Whichever part of Mika wasn't sad about all this wanted to high five
him for going from naive and polite to stringing along thirty year old businessmen with the greatest of ease. Somebody needed to buy him a top hat and
a fake mustache, just so everybody would have the courtesy of a walking warning - This is the Ringleader of Fuck, and no, you can't take a break to
call your wife and lie about where you are.>
<Mika pulled a toothpick from inside his breast pocket and started chewing, showing off flashes of a tongue stud every few seconds.>
Uh huh, s'long as you ask real nice. He's a big freaky sex-fiend horndog. He'll do whatever you want him to do, so long as he gets a good lay for a
couple of hours. Doesn't like sharing, but like I said, ask nice.
<Bless him, Chance would have loved this.>
Mikaël Ashton; Quidditch Teaching Anger Management Problem
\"You found your way,
So why keep asking me?
Nothing common suits you,
You live again in solitary.
Look away for now
beautiful alone
Now who decides to settle down?
Maybe nobody really cares --
What\'s this to you anyway?
Something dirty\'s got you, dear
Makes me want to be with you
Something painful\'s with you, dear
Makes me want to be with you.\"
Katii is a lesbian who can\'t be bothered to put her name in her sig. <3fromchris!
|
|
|
Jame Devir
|
| posted on 7-14-2009 at 07:14 PM |
|
|
<Wait a minute. Where did his responsible parent figure disappear to? The one that would lean over his shoulder, peek into the glass, and whisper
oh so politely that there might be something more than straight rubbing alcohol in that glass, mister, better put it down and get your own, you know
better than to accept drinks strangers pass you, that was the voice Jame needed. Otherwise known as a conscience, but it started fading out last year
and went missing entirely around the same time one of David's boys slammed his head off a sidewalk so hard a couple teeth came loose. Jame glanced
back over his shoulder, pretended to be watching someones moving around back there. No, no voice of reason smiling at him, blue eyes clear and face
as pretend-innocent as it had been all fourth year, when Jame would have believed anything out of his mouth and clung to every word.>
<The little drink - half the glass, because what was the point of dancing around this for the next half hour - hurt, from mouth to stomach and up
the back of his nose. He coughed, of course, into the hand holding his cigarette.>
Sex-fiend horndog. That sounds really appealing and all, but what about you, huh? He just send you out to pick somebody up like take-out and deliver
them, and you get the leftovers? Sounds kinda shitty. I could just go someplace with you instead.
<During all of this, Jame leaned a little harder on his hand, toyed with the glass, and completely overlooked the fact that he'd requested a
threesome a few minutes ago. Flirting was flirting, no matter how the words were arranged or what he really meant deep down under all that - they
both knew where this was headed; conversation just happened to be a prerequisite, like an introductory course needed before the harder lessons.>
Jame Devir + Patron Saint to Liars and Fakes
I miss today, I miss the past
I miss my veins 'cause they've collapsed
A simple thought occurs to me
I'm face down on the tracks
The train is coming fast and it's not derailing
It's not the first time and this won't be the last
That my heart is failing
As the blood is rushing to my head and from my wrists
I'm in love with all the things I know I should resist
I cannot emphasize enough that my body
Is a badly designed poorly put together vessel,
Harboring these diminishing so-called vital organs
Hope my heart goes first, I hope my heart goes first
Dan
|
|
|
Mikaël Ashton
El Cap-ee-tain
Posts: 1058
Registered: 11-14-2004
Member Is Offline
Mood: strung out
|
| posted on 7-14-2009 at 07:40 PM |
|
|
<With Mika already stumbling out towards the dirt road and Chance swinging out past the door by his arms, the last bit of instruction was this -
"And for the love of God, do not feel sorry for him!">
<What a stupid fucking thing to say, he thought. Growing up in the middle of the slums surrounded by toothless women holding out empty tin cups for
change and one-eyed men trying to rig crooked card games on fold out tables, there wasn't much left for Mika to feel sorry for. Still, it hadn't taken
very long into this conversation for him to understand the truth behind that suggestion. Beggars and thieves were a depressing sight no matter what,
but it was an entirely different thing to be around somebody who felt like they had their very own gravitational field dragging everything and
everybody down to the floor with them. Mika flexed his spindly fingers out, nine or ten plastic rings stacked one on top of the other shifting, and
extended a hand for that cigarette. A toothpick wasn't doing it, and he didn't have any tobbacco on him - just that stick-and-seed filled excuse for
weed he peddled out to idiots.>
I came all the way out here lookin' for a good time. You said you wanted two, two's an okay compromise for me, I'll get'cha two people, but that's
your call. Want one? Well, I got a nice bed and a big two-person bathtub waiting. Don't think I'm getting anybody's leftovers, though. I'm
the one who found you, after all. I'd punch that motherfucker right in the teeth if he tried to pull a fast one on me, baby.
<And back again, spine and leather creaking every time he moved. As an aside, Mika had already punched Chance in the teeth way before their height
difference went from one inch to nine. Personally, he blamed constant coffee drinking for never growing a day past fourteen.>
So. Are you in the dee-pee kind of mood, or do I get you all to myself?
Mikaël Ashton; Quidditch Teaching Anger Management Problem
\"You found your way,
So why keep asking me?
Nothing common suits you,
You live again in solitary.
Look away for now
beautiful alone
Now who decides to settle down?
Maybe nobody really cares --
What\'s this to you anyway?
Something dirty\'s got you, dear
Makes me want to be with you
Something painful\'s with you, dear
Makes me want to be with you.\"
Katii is a lesbian who can\'t be bothered to put her name in her sig. <3fromchris!
|
|
|
Jame Devir
|
| posted on 7-15-2009 at 09:56 AM |
|
|
You bought me the drink. And you're pretty fucking hot.
<The rest burned as terribly as the first, but this time, Jame didn't cough, just sucked the stuff down and shivered like a child sneaking his
drink out of daddy's liquor cabinet. Gerrolt didn't have one of those in the rebuilt Sparrow home. At the mos the had the occasional bottle of harsh
whiskey sitting on a side table in his study, sticky, used glasses littered around it. Twice already Gerrolt had caught him in there, not stealing
drinks but sitting in the armchair centered on the dead fireplace, rolling one of the glasses between his hands. How long had the glasses been there?
Since Nicholas was a child, maybe, or long before the affair that created the bastard half Sparrow. He wanted to ask, but Gerrolt always threw him
out first. For that, just getting tossed out on his ass, Jame counted himself lucky. Nicholas told him several times over what went on in that room,
and the bedrooms beyond. Jame..only worried about the heavy iron tools sitting by the hearth. The rest of those stories didn't bother him, not when
he was used to spending half the night - or the entire night and well into the first grey hours of morning, if Gerrolt was feeling particularly
malicious - with the same man responsible for all those nightmares Nicholas still had, the other half in a guest room. Before Nothing ran off, they
used to share that room and the responsibilities that came with it.>
You first. Then you and your friend afterwards, if you think you have the stamina to last that long. I can handle both of you.
<Drink gone, Jame pushed the glass across the table, gathered his cigarettes and lighter and stood. The guy had been right about the drink - that
simple motion made his head swim a bit. Strong stuff for such a skinny person.>
<He didn't intend on asking for a name, either. Better that they kept this anonymous. Names tended to give fucking a personal edge bordering on
uncomfortable for him. In half an hour or so, however long it took to get this part out of the way, this kid - a bit familiar, now that he came close
enough to really look at him - would get to learn all the most intimate places on his body; names weren't needed, not when he was baring all that just
to wake up alone, asleep in a doorway the next morning.>
Jame Devir + Patron Saint to Liars and Fakes
I miss today, I miss the past
I miss my veins 'cause they've collapsed
A simple thought occurs to me
I'm face down on the tracks
The train is coming fast and it's not derailing
It's not the first time and this won't be the last
That my heart is failing
As the blood is rushing to my head and from my wrists
I'm in love with all the things I know I should resist
I cannot emphasize enough that my body
Is a badly designed poorly put together vessel,
Harboring these diminishing so-called vital organs
Hope my heart goes first, I hope my heart goes first
Dan
|
|
|
Mikaël Ashton
El Cap-ee-tain
Posts: 1058
Registered: 11-14-2004
Member Is Offline
Mood: strung out
|
| posted on 7-15-2009 at 07:51 PM |
|
|
I'm pretty fucking hot, huh? Yeah, well, I probably do better than half the scummy trash that comes up to you, tryin' to feel you up in the bathrooms
and shit.
<Too many times it had happened to him, those pieces of shit. See, Mika wore about fifteen layers of leather to make himself look bigger than he
really was - if he came even close to the weight that all those clothes boasted, his quidditch career would have sucked harder than Rosier in a
bathroom stall. In reality, he had the body of a jockey and only the smallest percentage of required muscle to do his job right, and whenever he
happened to go bar hopping in a t-shirt, the older, more perverted crowd mistook him for one of Aidan's pillow biter hookers. What did he feed those
fuckers, rice gruel? There was this one whore chick that stood outside the Brickhouse every Friday in her hot pink six inch heels, and the heaviest
thing about her were her cheap South American tits. If Aidan was ever out there, he was almost guaranteed an incoherent string of Russian yelling
about forcing his bitches to go bulimic, because ain't nobody was gonna hit that for anything over a tenner. Back to something that people would have
paid good money for, though. Were still paying good money for, even if they'd gotten him for the whole of sixth year and part of seventh.>
<Ask him, Chance was having a brain-affair with this kid. Couldn't just let it go, couldn't forget about him, even when he was wasted and strung
out and reduced to cruising bars to kill a night or two.>
Psh. Stamina. Look, kiddo, I'll go for a week if that's what it takes to get you off. The way you talk, we'll be goin' until next Tuesday. Come on, I
got better shit at my place if you need anymore.
<When Jame got up, so did he, and Mika just couldn't help but shoot a wink off at the two pricks still sucking down the bar. Inside, he was hoping
against hope that all the Spirytus swirling around Jame's system would dull what was about to happen to him.>
Mikaël Ashton; Quidditch Teaching Anger Management Problem
\"You found your way,
So why keep asking me?
Nothing common suits you,
You live again in solitary.
Look away for now
beautiful alone
Now who decides to settle down?
Maybe nobody really cares --
What\'s this to you anyway?
Something dirty\'s got you, dear
Makes me want to be with you
Something painful\'s with you, dear
Makes me want to be with you.\"
Katii is a lesbian who can\'t be bothered to put her name in her sig. <3fromchris!
|
|
|
| Pages: 1 2 3 |
|
