Kaitlinbell Inc.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-02-24T00:45:00

2009-02-24T06:45:31Z

Title: Crushing for Dummies
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucky Genevra and Sakejet Yvan-Lacun
Summary: It's been three days and Lucky is just...well, feeling like a dick.

The sex had been great.

One of the weirdest things he was having to acclimate to here in Mountain Ash Psychiatric was that he was most definitely no longer in his thirties. Oh no. Lucky was in fact only sixteen and his libido had the same characteristics of a sixteen year old.

Oh, and he was also a virgin. Until a few days ago.

That had been a shocker to realize for sure. Though he must say he was enjoying having the sixteen year old looks again. Even if it did mean he'd lost three inches. He was missing lines on his face and grey in his hair and his regeneration abilities kicked ass even if his stamina left little to be desired.

The only real problem with the scenario at all to be honest was that, well...he had sex with Sakey right after he'd burst into tears. Sakey had a mental breakdown and locked himself away for three days and the instant he finally faces the light of day what does he do? He loses control of his sixteen year old body and decides Sakey is pretty even in tears and takes advantage of him when he's defenseless.

Could he -be- more of a dick right now?

It's been three days and Lucky is just...well, feeling like a dick. He can't face Sakey properly. After the moment of Sakey regaining his sight he'd thought that hey, he'd actually done something right. But unfortunately it had only lasted for a few hours and Lucky felt even -more- like a dick for having wished for it so he didn't leave the asylum before he could make it up to him. Ever since then Lucky has been rather quiet. He doesn't want to do something stupid and very...well...sixteen year old like. And Sakey is beginning to notice.

Sakey's stay in the asylum has been decidedly different than Lucky's. He's had the luxury of staying sixteen years old but unfortunately he's also a decidedly asexual sixteen year old who happens to be faced with blood, gore, and horrific monsters on a daily basis. It's amazing he's learned to bathe without running screaming.

But Lucky has been good to him. He'd lifted him out of his funk from before they'd even met. Just seeing someone who was not horrifically disfigured had given him hope and something to focus on. Better yet was meeting the boy who had turned out to be intelligent and complimented him often even when he was covered in sweat and thinner than ever before.

The green eyed boy had been the deciding factor in his recovery and it had only been too easy to give in and let what happened happen. He had wanted to feel Lucky's touch just as much as Lucky had wanted to feel him...and waking up to seeing the world again had been the greatest gift anyone had ever given to him, short-lived or not.

And now...Lucky is avoiding him.

When they sit together in the commons now their conversation is stilted at best. Lucky avoids his eyes and simply writes and argues with thin air in that bizarre way of his. Sakey is left to draw and discuss literature with him in different languages to pass the time.

But what really worries him is that Lucky doesn't touch him anymore. On their very first meeting Lucky had been all over him, petting his hair, touching his hand. Even his eyes, pale as they were, could give the amazing illusion of a palpable touch with just a glance and even that is sparse now. He wonders what is wrong. Was it because of the crying? Had it really bothered him so much? Or was Lucky just feeling weird about it since it was hardly a great first time for anyone?

It was at that time that Sakey decided that for one good deed there must be a second to follow it, at least when you care about the peson. And he definitely cared about Lucky and the boy had given him his sight back. He could do something for him.

That night he penned a letter to Alaric requesting a few things, explaining very vaguely why he needed them. And Alaric, dutiful best friend as he was, overnighted them.

In an inconspicuous brown box were several things. A bottle of lubricant, lots of food, and a few other strange things that Alaric had thought might come in handy. Sakey feels retarded already and wishes he hadn't asked but instead he tries his best. He forces himself through a shower with the soap Alaric had sent until he's at a healthy glow. The alcohol is stashed away along with the lubricant and Sakey looks in the mirror speculatively.

His hair is not a mess for once or damp, though that would only be a matter of time before he burns up. He is still strapped into his clothing and unfortunately that was there to stay. But he looks a little better and so he grabs a bag of crackers and one of the candy bars Alaric had sent him before he nervously went to the commons.

This sort of emotion was weird for him altogether but he's never tried to win anyone's favor before either. Lucky is sitting on the sofa as always, his back to Sakey and his face towards the large window where snow is falling outside. He is writing quietly while the others quietly mill around and Sakey once again enjoys the fact that his hair is not dirty, his skin unmarred beyond static. Only the faintest hint of rusted chains are visible around Lucky's neck. They get a little thinner every few days.

Sakey swallows thickly before moving to sit down beside him. He swivels his body slightly so that he is facing Lucky on the sofa and he daintily presses the food on top of the open book. "You're losing weight," he murmurs quietly, tucking his hair behind his ear and trying to keep his expression neutral.

Lucky, on the other hand, has no qualms showing his surprise. He had been expecting the same sort of day he had been leading; quiet and with no surprises. But here before him is Sakey looking more beautiful than ever in snow brightened sunlight and smiling softly. It was like the first day he'd met him all over again, like a corny romance film gone slow motion.

It takes all he has not to kiss him and instead he gives him a genuine smile before unwrapping the candy. "Thank you...they don't feed me five or six times a day like I need." And he enjoys the way Sakey smiles and he thinks that things are better now. Perhaps soon he'd be able to kiss him again. Sakey obviously didn't think he was a dick anymore.

Despite his worries for the week just seeing Sakey so bright today and obviously in good spirits has the same effect on Lucky and so he moves to his feet, feeling wool slide faintly on tile. "You want to take a walk?" he asks, helping Sakey to his feet and snapping his book shut before they go meandering around the halls of the building. What with the snow no one was allowed out and Lucky was stir crazy, but he had Sakey.

They go to his room after a short discussion on books and Lucky excitedly opens his door and ushers Sakey inside, already going to his bookshelf. He had told Sakey one of his favorite quotes but couldn't quite get it right and so he was feverishly flipping through trying to find it whenever the page delicately sliced at his finger and he dropped the tomb with a startled and pained yelp.

And of course a split second later he felt like he'd wish the book had just finished him off because Sakey is chuckling quietly, and -damn it- if this tiny little cut hurt worse than a huge one anywhere else on his body would. He growled low in his throat repeatedly as he stomped off to his little cot and slammed down on it, staring down at his whinging finger and damning it to hell when he was -trying- to impress Sakey and now he looks like a -girl-.

Sakey, on the other hand, has found the entire display to be the most amusing thing of his life. For the first time in ages he laughs loudly and can't help but find Lucky's childish behavior to be a bit endearing. The boy is just so big and mature looking but he still sulks and whines like the best of the school children. It's enough for Sakey to fall to his knees in front of him and inspect it.

The cut is purely surface and hadn't bled at all. Lucky's face is the picture of humiliation as he stares down at his feet, chewing moodily on his tongue. Sakey can't quite help the soft smile on his face as he contemplates what way to make Lucky feel better.

And it is then he reminds himself that he should be winning Lucky over. That was what he wanted...to reassure the boy and he'd been doing so well so far. He hesitated there and he just -knew- what he was going to do would make him come off as a gigantic twat but he's already going through the motions and damn him to hell if he wasn't placing a sweet kiss on the cut and lingering there.

Lucky's eyes widen fractionally, watching champagne colored irises flutter from existence while full, soft lips lingered for a moment. When Sakey pulls away his face is slightly dusted pink and Lucky swallows awkwardly. "Um..."

Sakey only squeezes his eyes shut and moves to a stand, hoping he comes off effervescent instead of a bit embarrassed. "All better right?" he jokes, feeling like a loser as he rubs a hand at his neck nervously. Lucky keeps staring at him and really the last thing he needs right now is eye contact.

"Um..." he repeats again eloquently, slowly moving to a stand and going to get the book from the floor. The tome safely in hand he turned to Sakey and eyed the awkwardness to him that usually wasn't present at all and he knew exactly what he was feeling.

Something along the lines of "oh shit, wrong reaction." He knew it well.

So Lucky looked down at his sock clad toes and wiggled them a bit, trying to figure out what to say or do because well he'd really like to makeout with Sakey but Sakey might still think he's a dickwad and he's embarrassed and this was so -hard-.

Finally he just sighed and decided to go the same route; ass first.

"Um, well I doubt I'd be quite as attractive when I cry. Did it turn you on?" he jokes, praying the instant his ears catch the words that Sakey not take offense, please don't take offense, please it was a joke.

And surprisingly Sakey gives an awkward, unsure smile that looks like he'd rather be doing something like open heart surgery than actually going along with this before he leans up on his tip toes to kiss Lucky's cheek, dangerously close to his mouth.

Lucky sighs in relief.

"I'm going to kiss you again," he says as a warning before dropping the book a second time and pulling Sakey forward by gentle hands in his washed hair and it's that night all over again...with a nice lack of tears and trauma.

This time Sakey is soft and golden and touching him with purpose despite the intense amount of mental preparation something like that must have cost. Lucky appreciated it. He pulled away completely intent to let him know before he paused and cocked his head to the side.

"So did the chocolate in my mouth taste like blood or anything?"

Well...he'd get it right eventually.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-02-10T10:41:00

2009-02-10T16:43:23Z

Title: Haywood Books
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucky Genevra and Madoc Haywood, with cameos of others.
Summary: Lucky is kind of a no nonsense bastard when he likes people.

They were in Europe for a month. They had already been in France for a week and then had moved on to England for a week. And now they were in Scotland for a few days before moving on to Italy and Greece. Lucky rather liked Edinburgh. It was very quiet and it rained everyday and it was full to the brim of tiny bookstores with novels that you only see in first editions, never reprinted that he was eating up.

Alaric had given up on him three days ago, telling him he was retarded when there were so many pubs and restaurants to try out and instead he wanted to read. Lucky had of course ignored him and instead dragged Sakey and the twins along with him while Alaric grumbled along.

It was a similarly rainy Wednesday when he found Haywood Books. It was a dark little store in the middle of a tiny street, hunched between a bakery and a dress shop and looking for all of the world like the architectural version of a wallflower. It was quaint and Lucky had loved it.

He had immediately gone inside and looked around, finding all sorts of strange things that tickled his fancy while Sakey stood behind him and continued to verbally prod him into leaving for lunch, nice at first but steadily growing frustrated until Lucky finally disappeared to the counter with a stack of six and rang the little bell on the desk.

From the back there was a little cough and the sounds of footsteps until a sweet looking man bustled out. He was average height and build with longer honey colored hair and similarly honey colored eyes. They were ringed red and his nose was pink as he stepped behind the counter and Lucky immediately felt sorry for him.

"Do you own this place?" he asks tentatively as the man bags up his books, writing on a piece of paper the prices and totalling it without the use of a cash register. He smiles quite warmly as he turns the paper to Lucky for him to see.

"I do indeed. Looks like your total is 112 pounds," he replies kindly, his voice thick with illness as he sways on the spot and Lucky feels very bad for him and he immediately takes his books and digs in his wallet, calling over his shoulder, "Sakey come here please."

And while Sakey comes over he smirks at Madoc and hands over the bills. "May I ask your name?"

Sakey turns up beside Lucky, Alexander on his hip chewing at a cookie and Andrey on the ground holding his hand. Lucky smiles at his lover as Madoc answers with his name. Poor bastard. Lucky reaches over and takes Alexander from Sakey as well as replacing Andrey's hand in his own.

"My friend here is sick. Do you think you have any medication for him before we leave?"

Green eyes are stern, and Sakey knew how he felt about bookshop owners and pretty people altogether and Sakey stared at him like he were insane. However he did digress with a look for him alone that said he shouldn't be irresponsible and dole out medication. "I'm not sure how I feel about giving out that heavy a dosage to someone who's not my patient," he says unsurely, but he's already reaching for the bottle in his bag. If Sakey is anything, it is unduly kind to even strangers, whether he's faking it or not.

"You have leftovers from when I was sick a month ago just in case I relapsed. I know you. So can you just give him some and we can go to lunch? He seems like a nice guy. "

Madoc watches the whole exchange looking like he's about to protest before a bottle of pills is gently tapped down on the counter and Sakey gives him the doctor eyes. He seems like he's still unsure if he should give such a thing to a stranger but Madoc gives him an weary smile that is cough tired and appreciative. "Um...I appreciate it. That's...sweet of you."

Lucky feels smug and whispers something sarcastic into his blond son's ear that makes him giggle before giving Madoc a wink and slipping out into the rain with his books and his lover and sons. Madoc doesn't find out who they were until they are long gone from Europe thanks to the news doing an interview with the two heads of Ten-2.

He moves there a year later. He misses the large flowers.

How strange.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-31T19:40:00

2009-02-01T01:42:18Z

Title: The Hermit
Fandom: Original/Persona3
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucky Genevra and Laurie Faden
Summary: Part 2 of my random Persona story.

By the time they had gotten back to reality after an entire Dark Hour of killing monsters Lucky had gone back to his room white as a sheet before emptying the contents of his stomach in the bathroom. For several days this continued. Living in the house with only them was quieter than the dorms by far and every night they'd go back to Tartarus in the Dark Hour and kill yet more shadows. By the third day Lucky stopped being violently sick and he wondered if this should make him happy or upset that this is becoming normal.

Caim still scared the shit out of him. Being the highest level of the party and with an awfully significant persona at best. It was all very unsettling and he stayed away from him as best he could, and by default he stayed away from Seygue too whom seemed to never be away from him.

Instead he had begun to stay with Sakey and Alaric as much as he could during school. Now that he was part of the group they talked to him regularly at the end of classes and everyday when he came home from school for a short bit.

Lucky was very glad for the attention. He's afraid if he's left to himself and his thoughts he might breakdown and perhaps Sakey understood that, which is why he was always knocking on his door checking up on him and inviting him to eat lunch with them. Anything to guarantee Lucky wasn't alone for more than an hour.

Alaric was a bit obnoxious, only getting serious when fighting at night. But in school with a crowd around him incessantly he was the life of the party, hitting on girls and boys alike and going on and on about how rich and good looking he was. Lucky honestly didn't know what to think...beyond to admit Alaric was indeed quite gorgeous. His teenaged libido would like to say hello to all of them...even the neurotic Caim and bubbly Jesst. They were all very beautiful.

But now it is blessed Sunday and surprisingly enough Sakey is not knocking on his door. As Lucky heads out for dinner he can hear his voice through Alaric's door. Though he could understand none of the words he could catch the tone; stern and unamused. He wonders what they're up to, but only continues on out the door with a very affectionate goodbye from both Seygue and Jesst who sit on the sofa together pouring over a magazine.

The streets aren't crowded that day and Lucky has breakfast at a little bistro near downtown, pickng at heavily sweet pad thai while all manner of people walk by. It is noon before he moves from his spot, trailing into the park situated there in the mess of high rise buildings. Businessmen and women on evening runs bustle by in expensive jogging suits, ipods blasting in their ears to drown out the world, and sunglasses on even in the dark to make sure no one ever made eye contact. Alone.

Lucky ignores them all, walking moodily and enjoying the warmth of the evening on his back. He is so tired of cold sweat night these days that the heat is like a welcome retreat. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched as if he is unhappy when it is the furthest from the truth that day.

Pretty white flowers fall from the trees with the wind, and the breeze carries over a wonderful voice that makes Lucky's insides go warm. He slowly turns around, looking for it in all directions before he pinpoints it. A man about forty yards away sits at the base of a lamp post, an acoustice guitar nestled over his knees. Pidgeons are flocked out in front of him as if they feed off of his music instead of breadcrumbs, and a beat up guitar case lays folded open to the world where change and crumpled bills contrast against the deep red felt.

On impulse he walks over, curious as a cat, kicking fat birds out of his way until he stands only a few feet away. The stranger looks up at him after noting his fallen shadow and Lucky swallows thickly as pale, shocking blue eyes seem to jolt right through him. He felt very much like the monsters that he electrocuted every night.

He no doubt looks retarded, shocked and dumbfounded as he is. The man only blinks and keeps going to the end of his song, strumming the last note and snuffing it out of life by dropping his hands flat on the strings.

"Did your mother never tell your staring is rude?" the man asks.

His voice rather scratchy and worn when it wasn't singing in awe inspiring ways. It's enough to jar Lucky from his staring and from his dumb euphoria with a small shake of the head. Despite a phenomenal singing voice and a pretty pair of eyes he seems human now and so Lucky feels a little stupid.

He pries out a bill from his pocket and lets it flutter down with the others. "I'm afraid she did. Never did any good. I stare like other people breathe. My apologies if it made you uncomfortable."

The man doesn't smile or laugh like others would, only blinks a second time and strums random notes, looking around at passing squirrels as the flowers continued falling around him. It was certainly awkward, Lucky's eyes watching the way the moonlight dappled and shifted through the trees over the man's face; watched his longer, dirty hair pick up and float about almost whimsically with the ebb and tide of the breeze.

And yet his expression did not change. Lucky mourns it.

"My name is Lucky. What's yours?" he asks, plunging his hands a little deeper into his pockets, his hips jutting out as only the thin can. For some reason he is drawn to the man's eyes. He'd like to keep them in his direction if only to stare more.

Sure enough they did roll back, but they are devoid of comprehension or care, dark, very girly lashes fluttering down before rising back up like clockwork-- like habit.

Finally the man sighs and leans forward, going about collecting his tips. "My name is Laurie," he grunts up from beneath his hair, stuffing crumpled bills in his pockets and coins until he jangled with poverty. Lucky bites his lip and wishes he were not watching the man put his guitar away. He was leaving.

Laurie hauls himself to his feet and Lucky finds he is several inches shorter than him and from this angle almost femininely demure and closed off. He wonders why he is this way. "You have a beautiful voice. With the right people you'd probably be a multi-national rockstar," he jokes, hoping to liven his spirits.

Laurie blinks and hauls the case over his shoulder, head cocking vaguely to the side as if in mockery of curiosity, like he'd studied it but didn't understand it. "I don't want people to know who I am," he murmurs simply, looking at a passing couple with a contemplating, bored air and Lucky wonders what he sees.

"Don't like the spotlight?" Lucky tries again, wishing endlessly that this man didn't seem so closed off. He'd rather like to get to know him. Though his looks probably had more to do with that than any lingering wish to become his friend.

Blue eyes blink a fourth time and a soft sight leaves him. Long fingers scratch at a lightly bearded face and Laurie starts to move away. "Only the ones created beneath trees. I'll see you later."

Lucky watches the man walk away and feels rather upset at how short that meeting had been. But he has a feeling that Laurie had meant for him to come back another day. Perhaps he was simply having a bad one this particular afternoon. At least he has an invitation and Lucky smiles quietly to himself.

Inside his head he feels like something delicately clicks in to place and his blood rushes dizzily, causing his vision to go black for a moment. Lucky sways on the spot until a little voice in his head whispers to him.

"Thou art I...and I am thou..." Instantly green eyes open, his heart thudding once heavily and worried. He was...hearing voices again. This wasn't good. "Thou shalt have our blessing when thou choosest to create a Persona of the Hermit Arcana..."

Just as soon as it was there...it was gone. The blood stopped rushing to the point the outside world filtered back across his vision and Lucky could feel his hands shaking gently at his side. What had just...?

A woman in a bright pink jogging suit gave him a bizarre look behind her diva sunglasses, showing he was clearly in her way and Lucky stumbled over in a daze, looking around for Laurie but he was nowhere to be seen. From far away he could hear a scream but he assumes it's a teenager having a laugh.

He huddles his jacket a little closer, and slams his hands into his pockets, hurrying away from the park as if he is conspicuous, as if people could pick a schizophrenic out of a crowd. Back at the place everything is well lit and Seygue and Jesst and still burbling on the sofa. Sakey seems to be stewing huffily at the table but Lucky doesn't bother. He waves everyone off and goes straight upstairs.

He'd be damned if all of this persona shit landed him back in the asylum. He could never forgive them. But so far...it didn't seem to be a problem. And what in the world did the voice even mean?

The Hermit Arcana?

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-28T23:02:00

2009-01-29T05:02:27Z

Title: Blush Pink
Fandom: Original
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Yamaoka Seygue
Summary: Thanks to Alaric, Seygue learns a new way to masturbate.

After Alaric had introduced him to the bizarre world of sex toys Seygue had never quite been able to get his mind off of them. Every time he came over he would clutch at his bag and stare off into Alaric's room where he knows there was a massive box of all kinds. He knows a simple pink dildo sits in his bag always, Seygue being too afraid to ever take it out and hide in a drawer anywhere for fear of Caim finding it.

One particular Sunday Seygue is over babysitting twins while Alaric and Sakey are at work and Lucky at lunch with his publisher. Seygue twittered about the pent house with the twins all day, reading to them, playing video games with them and ultimately putting them down for a nap.

The house is infinitely still now, the air heavy and sunwarmed and Seygue finds himself meandering to Alaric's room. He likes to stare at the fish in Alaric's bathroom and he goes, blue eyes wide as they watch them. He had named each one after his favorite noire film actors. Minutes tick by and Seygue finally bites his lip. With the silence it musts mean the twins are asleep.

Seygue slowly walks out of the bathroom and instantly he knows what he wants to do. Small white teeth sink into the soft flesh of his lip before he goes to his bag by Alaric's bedroom door. He feels almost nervous pulling out the pink, semi-translucent toy. It wobbles precariously in his hand and winks in the sunlight. Such a silly thing, even after discovering their wonder.

A moment later Seygue grabs a tube of lubricant from Alaric's bathroom and returns, looking around for a hard surface and finally landing on the glass door leading to the rest of the house. Perfect. Seygue swallows thickly and brings the phallis up to his lips and he licks his tongue flat against the suction cup on one end before gently falling to his knees and pressing the thing against the door.

When his fingers move away it hangs there, bobbling stupidly and Seygue bites his lip again. It's...well it almost looks like a real penis like that save the color. His nervousness keeps mounting as he hastily shimmies out of his clothes, folding them nearby. The bottle of lubrication is snapped open and he pours a bit in his hand, rubbing it evenly over the plastic surface.

Nothing left to do Seygue slowly gets on his hands and knees, reaching behind himself to align it before pressing backwards, inch by inch impaling himself. This particular dildo is smaller than the one Alaric had used on him and so there is no pain at all.

Instead, Seygue gives a loud keening whine and drops his suddenly flushed face into his hands on the carpet. He has to keep his ass higher in the air than normal for this and he can feel his own hot pants of breath flashing back at him as he breathes into the carpet and clenches at it with white fingers.

It feels so bizarre even still. The cold, fake texture of it feeling foreign and like it was taking up too much space in his body. But it is smooth and filling him without apology and it is deliriously good. His fingers were never so perfect for this.

After a moment to catch his breath Seygue slowly pulls his hips forward, feeling every tiny inch of the object slip out of him, dragging against sensitive skin and goodness it makes his skin crawl. Seygue cannot stop the high pitched and girlish gasp that leaves him as he loses a bit of his self-control and jams his hips back again, soft skin pressing into the dark glass of the door with a quiet bump.

Even as he stays there, reeling, his hips roll in a smooth circle against the toy, feeling it bang against all sorts of nerve endings in his body before hitting the most sought after one that makes Seygue cry out loudly, surely loudly enough for his fish to hear. It causes silver sparks behind his clenched eyes and his fingers claw at the carpet in ecstacy.

Seygue pulls off again, nearly completely, his face contorted in pleasure before he rams back. Never before has masturbating by himself been so good. In an instant he is starting a rhythm, rather too quickly and too impatiently pistoning his tiny hips forward and back, sound just veritably pouring out of him in waves; hisses, moans, loud screams of passion, and squeaks whenever he's lost his voice for even those.

Rabbit like hair spills forward over his face as his head hangs low, swaying with his own enthusiastic little thrusts. The soft bumping against the door becomes more pronounced the further into it he becomes. He's so close, he can feel the colors swirling across his vision and the knot in his stomach dancing and tightening in tantalizing allure.

Finally he pushes his hands off from the carpet, moving up straight on his knees. His head falls back against the glass with a solid 'thump' his mouth hanging open on loud gasps and cries. Thin piano fingers press back against the door as if scrabbling for something to hold on to, all while his hips gyrate in utter wanton delight.

He's moving so fast he seems to be losing all self-restraint, voice rising higher and higher as he tries to curl right into the glass. His stomach is on fire and his breath is short, everywhere his blood is rushing like it's trying to fly free and oh my god he's dying.

Seygue's tiny toes curl almost painfully and he seems to choke on his own gasp, head slamming back against the glass with a far louder sound as his body spills itself, tiny frame jerking and bumping into the door completely involuntarily until finally the little boy falls forward onto the carpet like a corpse, tiny back rising and falling ridiculously fast as he tries to catch his breath.

Green eyes on the other side of the door blink before their owner turns tail and runs in the opposite direction before he can be seen.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2013-01-27T22:43:00

2009-01-28T04:53:39Z

Short Masterlist of Characters (very short)

Main Characters

Paul "Lucky" Anthony Genevra
The chronically moody and sardonic schizophrenic that wakes up in Mountain Ash Psychiatric every so often (After forgetting it and disappearing to a made up place in his head.). When awake in the asylum he is tortured by a small boy from his imagination named Michael that he fancies himself in love with. It's not until Sakey arrives there as well and Lucky falls for him that he begins to get better, and after another two years he is finally allowed to leave and join him in Couermalade where he meets and falls for Alaric as well. It is here that he publishes his first novel, discovers what it is like to be rich, loved, and a father.

Yamaoka Seygue
Endearingly cute, painfully shy, and awkward all around, Seygue is the tiny and effeminite son of the deceased Yamaoka Ai and Jordan Singer. He is very much in love with Caim and eerily dependent of him, as well as completely socially inept thanks to years of being in Caim induced isolation. He deeply enjoys the company of most everyone, but if not with Caim he is usually found with Jesst pouring over girly magazines or by himself watching old noire films or dabbling in his one true talent of playing music.

Uriel White
The surly and completely stern English History teacher at one of the more presitigous colleges in Couermalade. Also, rather ironically, he's the angel of weather and knowledge, though there is nothing terribly saintly about his personality at all, only his ideals. Uptight, straightlaced, and certainly a bit frigid, Uriel is the scariest virgin on the planet. He is also most noted for riding a motorbike to work and most silly girls that can get past his icy glaring rather fancy him.

Related Family

Lucky Genevra

...Andrey Voltaire Klein-Genevra-Yvan
The son of Lucky and Sakey as well as the twin of Alexander (the son of Alaric and Sakey). He is the quieter of the two twins though not by much, and no less manipulative and all around obnoxious. He likes 'awesome' things and like his brother and Sophie is embarrassingly intelligent and multilingual. He doesn't really like much of anyone his age besides Alexander and rather enjoys sleeping in the same bed with him while very rarely wearing clothes. He is very much his father's son and is a devilish mix of all three of his parents.

...Ruth Amaryllis Genevra
Sweet tempered and ruler of her household with a loving but iron fist, Ruth is the epitome of a mother and is known to smother her son Lucky with double sided attention. Growing up in a well to do family Ruth was expected to go to college and get a teaching degree like most everyone else in her family. Instead she met Caleb, a French exchange student in high school, and immediately fell in love. She was pregnant with Lucky her senior year and after graduation went on to be a simple piano teacher while trying fruitlessly to love her only son. Her greatest heartache was the government taking him away because of his mental disorder at the age of thirteen and even though he reenters her life at 19 she still regrets letting him go.

...Caleb Amos Genevra
Originally French, Lucky's father Caleb has a bit of a superiority complex. He is extremely well educated despite never going to a university and he works as a newspaper editor in a dingy cubicle. Despite his no nonsense personality and chronically dour expression he is an infinitely warm man who only cares for his family. He is quite the paradox next to his spotaneous and loud wife, but his son took after him a great deal, which is probably because Caleb was so damned stern and hard on him.

Other

Terrence Gautier Pierpont
A chronically sour and argumentative boy, Terrence seems to hate everyone. He's always quick to throw a snide comment to anyone he views as beneath him and is normally, of course, threatened right back. It is at this point that he usually runs off meekly. The only person he has kicked, ridiculed, and constantly clawed at without great retribution is Sasha and really...he hates to admit it but he really rather likes him. Like, a lot. But damned if he's going to tell him or ask him any favors. He'd rather die. He'll stick to studying day and night to impress his chemistry teacher. That's easier.

Carlin Lore Foley
Ridiculously androgynous Carlin is a bit of an obvious person in a crowd. With a deceased father and a lush of a mother, he has a rather warped sense of values and created his own set of rules and society guidelines for himself. He believes in freedom and hedonism, a true Wilde descendent at heart. He enjoys flirtation and socializing and dreams very much of becoming an actor one day...and he's perfectly alright sleeping his way there. Why not after all?

Madoc Christian Haywood
Owner of a lonely bookstore, Madoc is a simple sort. He is originally from Scotland and so has a prim and proper air to him as well as a faint accent which women to his store compliment often. He's tidy, and quiet, as well as sweet tempered and eager to please. He loves to read, but even more so, he loves to cook. His best friend is his turtle dove Sorsha.

Laurence "Laurie" James Faden
The life of a vampire is meant to be an exciting one but Laurie can't really feel it. Clinically apathetic Laurie hasn't really batted an eye over anything in years. He is the lead singer of the band Siren and his ridiculously intense blue eyes are its namesake. His sire was chased off shortly after his rebirth and so Laurie has no clue what to do with his powers. He regularly has mishaps with humans, whether it is accidentally charming a whole crowd with a glance or enshrowding them all in shadow and dumping them into chaos. Luckily, he also can't feel guilt so it's little difference to him.

Rainier Sefton Bronte
The very quiet and nerdy best friend of Andrey that takes a rather large liking to him as they grow older. He tries to date him very hard but loses sadly to the boy's twin brother Alexander. Otherwise he is part five of the group and has a great love for overly fantastic fantasy novels and is most made fun of for his obsession with Lord of the Rings characters. He's also fairly certain that if Andrey did not have a soft spot for him he would not be in the group and that bothers him incessantly.

Wendy Maya Bishop
The very motherly publisher of Lucky. She is an average woman with an average build, an impressive tan, and very expensive sunglasses. She's also quite no nonsense even if her voice and sweet looks don't give that away at all. She loves Lucky like one loves a naughty child and often treats him as such, beating him out of bed for booksignings and forcing him to change his shirt five times, telling him to be kind to his fans when all he wants to do is glare at them moodily.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-27T06:02:00

2009-01-27T12:02:41Z

Title: Free Your Mind
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Carlin Foley
Summary: Character introduction. A rather androgynous and hedonistic sort.

The widowed Bernadette Foley was the picture of wealth, poise, and beauty. Her rich brown hair was artfully done up in her tabloids, her makeup immaculate around even darker brown eyes. Diamond jewelry always adorned her neck and wrists, and her clothing was always from overseas and the price of a luxury car.

Her son, Carlin Foley, knew much better.

Inside of their own nice home she was reduced from shining epitome of grace to a lush. He watched silently as his mother stumbled around their house, around their pool clad in her skimpy pink bikini, her hair unkempt and unwashed, falling stringily around her dainty shoulders.

In her own home she didn't smile softly or talk about the stock market. Here she slurred and yelled, and pointed her finger. Carlin only blinked at her most days and locked himself in his room. His father, a long time CEO of an English life insurance company, had not exactly been a family man...though that may very well be because his only son was not at all what he had wanted.

Carlin, even from a young age, had looked delicate like his mother, eyes too large, lashes too thick, and facial features small and pixie-like. He didn't like to play with boys much, preferring to join the girls with their barbies quietly in the corner and more than anything else Carlin did not want to be a part of his father's company whatsoever.

He wanted to be a model he explained, or an actor, something very far away from the business world where he could be left in peace. Mr. Foley had not liked that at all. Carlin only blinked his long lashes and walked away.

His father had died when Carlin was fourteen of alcohol poisoning in a posh hotel in Austria. The funeral had been an extravagant affair, Mrs. Foley crying daintily, her tiny shoulder heaving against her son who was not too terribly much bigger, still possessing the same frame as her. Carlin never cried. He wasn't upset.

A month later Carlin started to finally blossom properly. He'd sit in front of his mother's vanity, playing with her creams, eyeshadows, lipsticks, learning how to use each with a sense of purpose. This is what he had wanted, he realized, because when he looked in the mirror he saw neither a boy nor a girl, just something very inbetween. His father would have hated it.

His father would have also hated knowing the money left to him was not being used for college but mostly kept away for acting school while the rest bought dresses off of the internet and all manner of interesting things.

And on his first day of high school no one knew who he was until his name was called on rosters and whispers followed him around. Only he was referred to as a she normally because he'd worn the girl uniform that day.

The next day he wore the male's and barely used any make up at all, tying back his hair to the point he just looked like a delicate boy. And so it went, some days worse than others to the point no one even questioned it anymore and he was able to laugh again.

He joined theater immediately and devoted all he had to it, while the rest of the time was spent batting his lashes at passing boys and sometimes girls, whichever he fancied that week really, talking to them in hushed voices in the hallways.

Like his mother he knew his own attractiveness, as different as it was, and he rather learned to enjoy flirtation and the heavy kissing and petting on weekends that his mother was too dead to the world to notice. It didn't matter. She didn't understand.

Carlin was going to be free at all costs and thus far he was succeeding wonderfully, mentally flipping the finger towards his deceased father as he pulls a boy into his bedroom right beneath his mother's nose.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-26T19:45:00

2009-01-27T01:45:47Z

Title: Peter Pan Syndrome
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Yamaoka Seygue and Andrey and Alexander Klein-Genevra-Yvan
Summary: The whys and whiles of Seygue: Piano Teacher.

At the age of 21 Seygue didn't feel much different. When he looked in the mirror he was still unbareably tiny, his hair was the same cut and the same rabbit like texture. His face miraculously did not gain lines or signs of age as quickly as everyone elses. He seemed permanently stuck in time, a sixteen year old.

His personality hadn't changed much either. He was still painfully shy and easily excited. Seygue still watched old movies and played video games, and curled into the laps of whatever victims he so chose, but mostly Caim. He seemed to be one of the few people who did not change along with the world around him.

Seygue's graduation had been a fun affair. Despite having no living blood relatives he had plenty of what he termed "family" to attend. He had been handed a fake diploma and was forced to make many pictures, all of which he smiled sunnily in.

And after that...it wasn't high school anymore.

He watched Caim get a job working in a very low department of Ten-2 to avoid as much human interaction as possible where Sakey could still keep an eye on him and Seygue for a long time sat at home, trying to figure out what he was going to do for the rest of his life since he'd not ever had the sort of sense to think about such things before.

Music stores were visited for applications but none seemed to want him despite his genuine niceness. After a year of nothing Seygue began simply helping Chiska in her flower shop. He loved it there and so the work was easy and quite fun, and he had meaning for awhile, coming home covered in potting soil and smiling, tucking pretty orchids into Caim's hair before he moodily chastized him.

But even then he was not good at his job. Poor Chiska had to watch him every move he made for fear he woudl hand out the wrong things or charge hte wrong price. Many times he'd waxed poetically about flowers to customers only to have her step in and inform them that no, actually, he had them mixed up.

Chiska would, of course, never have the heart to fire him but even Seygue knew he was only burdening her. He worked for a year trying to just stick with it. Caim had said he'd get better if he put his mind to it. He didn't.

Many nights he felt better when he could bring pretty roses to Sakey's twin boys. They always managed to cheer him up no matter his mood. He'd always bring violet roses for Andrey and for Alexander he'd always find the most exotic one there that had passed its freshness date.

He adored the little two year olds and he spent more time babysitting them than watching movies normally. They taught him all about their language popup books and their dinosaurs (which they knew all by name and time period and insisted on trying to rip their plastic teeth into his shoes).

They would make forts out of their drawing tables and blankets and sit beneath them with flashlights while reading stories and changing them to their own design and Seygue would normally fall asleep with them, being shaken awake by an uneasy looking Caim, his hands nervously trying to avoid the two fluffy heads around Seygue's stomach.

Life in the Ten-2 penthouse was ideal for Seygue. He didn't have to be an adult who memorized prices and flower names, and how long until they wilted. Here he had Sakey's boys and that's all that mattered.

Soon enough Seygue began showing them piano on the days he babysat, just out of something to entertain them with. What no one had expected really was that they had immediately enjoyed it, sitting on either side of Seygue's tiny frame and plunking on the keys with childish abandon.

It was their secret for awhile. Seygue was afraid Sakey would be unhappy about the twins touching the expensive instrument. But one day Sakey happened to walk in and all three guiltily looked up, the notes dying rather quickly and Seygue felt very upset, already apologizing profusely that this would never happen again.

But Sakey had silenced him with a kiss to his cheek, nodding to the boys, telling them to play that again.

It was really nothing, they could play the ABCs and Mary Had a Little Lamb but pale brown eyes were narrowed in something Seygue was sure he'd not seen before and the next moment Seygue is smiling and turning to him.

Sakey offered Seygue his mother's job from long ago; teach his children the piano. Seygue had not known what to do, faint with joy as he said yes. Chiska had pretended to be sad to see him go (though perhaps she would miss his company at least) and Seygue started the very next day.

"Seygue this song is booooring. Can we learn a better one? Something faster?" Andrey whined, bashing his head sideways to knock against their new instructor.

Alexander was likewise leaning against him, apparently feigning boredom to the point of actually pretending to sleep, little false snoozes leaving him as he shoes he can play the song one handed. "Seriously, can we do the moonlight sonata?"

The blue eyed man bit his lip, wanting to take it slow but they learned rather quickly. Andrey, beside him, was plunking out his own little masterpiece that could only be loved by himself, maybe his brother, and the tone deaf.

Sakey watched from the hallway with an entirely too amused expression as if he was very glad it was Seygue sitting there and not him.

"Okay okay," he gives in, grinning as he leans over to change the sheet music. "But no moonlight sonata. We're going the right way. Now...Greensleeves."

"NOT ANOTHER SLOW ONE!"

And despite how obnoxious they were Seygue loved them dearly. The little boys grew up around him and Seygue stayed very much the same, he didn't seem to age and that had always suited him just fine because he'd much rather not be an adult at all and apparently this was something the twins rather agreed upon for themselves as well.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-24T19:05:00

2009-01-25T01:07:13Z

Title: Picture Imperfect 1/3
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucky Genevra, and Ruth and Caleb Genevra
Summary: A look at the Genevra's in picture form.

The book is lined with four photos on each page, beneath each a lovingly penned year. In each picture the Christmas tree is the same; a bedraggled, box beaten plastic thing with its limbs skewed in every direction, tinsel clinging to its fake boughs for dear life in fear of becoming lost in the carpet or vacuumed up come January.

In front of the tree, on the floor sits a little boy, his blue dinosaur pajamas faded and threadbare, too short at the ankles and wrists but obviously loved. The boy couldn't be older than four, a beautifully wrapped red gift in his lap.

His hair looks to be caught between baby fluffiness and the sleekness and heaviness that comes with age. Already it hands down over his eyes, straight as a board and thick as dragon hide. A pair of pale green eyes stare out at the camera, a little too intense for his age and a little too solemn but the boy is smiling regardless.

One hand cups the side of his neck as if shy or as if a particularly nasty child had pinched him there just a few seconds before the photograph. The uneasiness in his stance seems to portray that as well. The boy stands out starkly from the homey cheer of the living room and quite obviously is -trying- to enjoy himself, after all, he's pretty sure this package contains the French version of the Count of Monte Cristo that he had been pining for.

At the edge of the photograph is a kindly looking woman stuffed into a warm looking plum colored sweater, one long fingered hand pressed to her ample bosom as she smiles in sweet affection at the boy on the floor. There are already crows feet around her eyes that are the same shade as her sons and her hair has not yet gained any grey. She is obviously young and enjoys Christmas.

Beside her is a surlier looking man. His hair is thinner and a little haphazard around his face as if it took a lot of effort to get it into order. He sports a roguish goatee and a pair of low spectacles that harshen his face more than necessary. His eyes are the color of fresh moss and are actually quite warm. He does not smile in the picture, only smirks, but it is made clear that he is not in a bad mood, only permanently severe.

The pictures continue through the pages, 1992, '93, '94, and onwards. The little boy grows up. His expression only gets more intense and more uncomfortable with each one. His hair alternates between very long and a tufty mess. Without fail the pictures of him with shorter hair he is scowling.

By '95 he no longer sits on the floor. He sits on the sofa beside his father, staring into space with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The pretty woman ages very quickly in her pictures and her smile is more and more forced. The husband never changes at all, only growing greyer, his frown lines more pronounced.

The portrait for the year 2000 is missing completely.

Every photograph from there on only includes the man and the woman and the woman smiles without her teeth entirely. They are more subdued pictures. They gain a little more warmth as time goes on but they never seem to be as cheerful as the beginning.

The boy never shows up again until 2006. He sits between his parents, a good head taller than both. His eyes are still his mothers and his stern expression is a mirror image of his fathers. His face is shadowed but the only discomfort made visible is a small moment of being camera shy.

The woman is smiling with all of her teeth, hair sprinkled grey and long but she shines with great youth. Moss green eyes are kindled and well lit for the first time and he smirks with a warmth as well. The boy only scowls at the camera...but he does not look uncomfortable for it.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-23T18:08:00

2009-01-24T00:08:39Z

Title: Blue Snow
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucky Genevra and Yamaoka Seygue.
Summary: Lucky sits on the sofa watching snow fall outside. Seygue's tiny frame is budged right up against him...

Seygue didn't have a game system at the house he lived in with Caim. Lucky has a feeling that that house has little to nothing as far as entertainment. He'd only seen Caim a few times during his entire life after Mountain Ash and everytime the boy had been perfectly content with staring into space moodily while clinging to the tiny boy.

So he wondered if the house even had a television. He can only guess it does. Seygue talks about movies far too much. But he doubts the boy has a computer and he doubts they have cable. The only time he's ever seen Seygue doing something fun while -not- in Alaric's house, it was at the Christmas party. Sakey had bought him a DS and he'd puttered about on that for nearly the rest of the night. And everytime he saw the boy after that he seemed to have it with him.

Lucky often wonders just what he must do to entertain himself in that house. At the family gatherings he sticks as close to Caim as possible. And no matter how long the older boy stares into space, Seygue fiddles with his fingers and plays his DS, smiling at the stoic man every few minutes. He spoke whenever people spoke to him and that was that.

But all of that clashed with what Seygue did outside of the parties. He would come over to their penthouse at least once a week. Sakey always invited him, made a point to invite him. Lucky thinks Sakey must know something they didn't. He always got soft around the other boy, trying to hand him life on a silver platter, which was, admittedly, a very Sakey thing to do, but not to such an extent.

So Seygue would come over in his too big school uniform and sit on their sofa and play video games. Alaric always bought him games for holidays. Soul Caliber IV, Okami, every .Hack// G.U., Harvest Moon. There were rare Japanese games that Lucky had never even heard of all in the native language and Seygue seemed to adore them all.

After a while Lucky couldn't help himself, and he began to watch. At first it was just curiosity. What could be so interesting about video games? But soon enough he was beginning to understand that Seygue essentially lived through some of them. He'd become so excited during cut scenes (as if they were actual movies) that he would wiggle in his seat, little bare toes curling in delight.

Lucky had never seen anything like it. And so slowly he began to watch the game over his laptop instead of write. Some days Sakey and Alaric would come home early, walking by and greeting him with kisses. Those particular nights Alaric made Japanese like it was an unspoken rule and Seygue always rushed to help make fortune cookies. Lucky was beginning to realize that the tiny blue eyed boy was considered family despite no actual relation whatsoever. He managed to force soft spots on most everyone he met and Lucky is swiftly beginning to learn why.

He begins a new book sometime in late February. It's beginning is not an auspicious one. Lucky sits on the sofa watching snow fall outside. Seygue's tiny frame is budged right up against him, frail fingers clenched in the material of his shirt as he sleeps softly. He is so tiny he barely takes up one seat on the couch and Lucky doesn't have the heart to move him.

His story flows out easily, like water across the computer screen, the story of a man who was blinded years ago by a burgar until the day a small puppy follows him home. For awhile the man ignores the animal, unable to see the mess it leaves his apartment in, but on the third day he finally feeds the puppy and days go by. He starts to love it and his vision slowly comes back.

On the last chapter (as the book is a tiny thing) Lucky writes the man having restored vision. The world is blue tinted and brighter than he remembers it had once been. The puppy stays forever and never grows old and no bad person of ill intent ever walks near his home.

As he types out a simple "The End" he feels Seygue come awake, stretching against him blearily like a cat and wrapping his arms around Lucky's own with a lovely sigh. Lucky stays very still, a faint smirk on his face as Seygue gasps sleepily and slowly uncurls his legs to stand.

"Oh it's snowing," the boy whispers, his voice high and breathy like a prayer as he presses his fingers to the glass windows behind the television. Lucky stares at his silohuette. The whole house is dark, only the glow of the city lights and the bright white of the snow light the room and Lucky can see the faint shadows of snowflakes drift lazily over the carpet around the similarly murky outline of Seygue body. It is a play of shadows and shape that is intimate and loving, caressing Lucky's mind with come hither decibles that only he can hear.

Lucky slowly gets to his feet, coming up behind the absolutely -tiny- boy. He feels large, cumbersome, like a giant next to him, and his hands on Seygue's shoulders seem to swallow him, heavy and clumsy as they are.

"Would you like to sleep? My room is still empty," he murmurs, watching Seygue smile dozily up at him. Whenever the boy gently tangles his fingers with his own Lucky feels his stomach do a strange somersault. They walk quietly through the silent house, the air around them breathing with sleep and snow until they come to Lucky's room and he holds the door open for him.

His bed is unmade and inviting and Lucky strips carefully before lying down. Seygue looks around unsurely until Lucky holds out his arm to him. Seygue understand and slips off his pants before crawling into the space beside him. His room is colder than many in the house and so the boy ends up curled right up against the cavern of his body and Lucky finds sleep soon after, his grey room tinged blue with night snow.

And every year Seygue would come to their Christmas parties with Caim. He'd sit at his side as if he is chained to his waist and he would talk sweetly when he was spoken to. Everyone always gave him movies and games and occasionally sheets of music for Christmas and every year he would smile beautifically under the fairy lights.

He still came to their house once a week to play video games and watch films. He'd clean their kitchen of green tea, cereal, rice, and pocky, and always leave whenever Caim called with a smile.

But it was Lucky that surprised Seygue that Valentine's Day, a meer week after he had written his story. Seygue had come over as was customary and Lucky showed him his room, fragile fingers laced among his larger ones.

A puppy eskimo dog sits in a box at the foot of his bed and he pulls it out, gently letting Seygue pet it. The boy's blue eyes are large and seemingly overwhelmed with love. Lucky can't help but smile himself, letting Seygue hold it himself.

"Her name is Ju. She's yours love."

And Seygue smiled just as gently as her namesake and Lucky knew exactly why Seygue was a part of their family. And every Christmas after that he would walk away from Caim for only a moment-...to hug Lucky.

Lucky would hug him back, staring over his shoulder to see snow outside every time. Pure, soft, and seemingly endless snow and Lucky would smile.

(isn't it a fluffy mess of adorable?)

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-23T00:13:00

2009-01-23T06:13:13Z

Title: Lucky's Job
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Lucky Genevra, Andrey and Alexander Klein-Genevra-Yvan (or just Klein), with short cameos of Alaric and Sakey.
Summary: DaaaAAAAaaaad, tell us a stoooory!

Lucky had a very fine tuned and overactive poet living and breathing within him. In his own mind he could wax poetically about the beauty he saw all around him while outwardly all he would do is smirk laciviously. Most mornings he will wake up with Alaric and Sakey's alarm, sit up and watch them slide from either side of his body to their feet and get ready for work.

Alaric liked to stroll around his sprawling room naked, picking out his tie first with lazy ease, calling over to Lucky (faggy blue one or this weird gold shade?) Only once it had been picked would he move on to find the perfect pinstriped suit. He'd pick imaginary lint off his lapels and flick the ash from his smoldering cigarette before disappearing to fix his hair and disappear to grab breakfast and his briefcase.

Nearby Sakey was far more methodical. Glasses, pants, shirt, jacket, tie...but then he'd slow down just a bit, sitting on the edge of the bed and luxuriously brush his hair into order. That was the part Lucky always rolled over on his side for, propped up on his elbow and staring in lazy morning adoration until Sakey would kiss him, put away his brush, and leave as well.

At this time Lucky would go back to sleep rather quickly. His nice ten minutes of waxing poetically in his mind about the way sun threaded golden tinsel through Sakey's hair, and how it bounced off of Alaric's sleek muscles nearby would be over and sleep would be the better option.

The problem always was that his sons grew bored around ten o'clock. They always woke up at six am on the dot regardless of what day it was and so Alaric always prepared them a quick breakfast before him and Sakey left for work. The heathens ate and then spent the rest of the morning in their bedroom before growing bored as pre-lunch snacktime began to roll around.

This particular morning Andrey steamrolls into Alaric's bedroom wearing nothing but a huggy and his pokemon beach towel wrapped around his neck like a cape. Alexander follows only one step behind, similarly clad but with far more...decorum, as if he was making a fashion statement.

In a moment both boys are bouncing on top of their dad, little diapered butts acting like shock asorbers, making them bounce a little higher each time like rubber balls. Lucky's stomach has been taking these beatings for two years now and he groans, growling like an angry papa bear before rolling over only to his side.

Given his height he can barely hold the fetal position. He's all arms and legs, spread out so far away from the rest of his body it's like trying to force planets into close proximity within the galaxy. His sons however, love that they can scurry all over him and his sticklike body.

"DaaaAAAAaaaad, tell us a stoooory! We're bored!" Andrey whined, blowing gummi bear breaths into his ear that make Lucky twitch and roll some more. Alexander is busy looking huffy nearby, his chubby arms cross over his chest and his pale eyes already have mastered the art of rolling.

"Seer-sly dad, mommy and daddy have been up for hours. You're just being lazy!" Alexander says very matter of factly. Lucky is sure he will be a lawyer.

Both boys cheer whenever baleful green eyes pry themselves open like he has lived in a cave his whole life and has only just now discovered the sun in all of its harsh glory. His thick brows knit together, meeting in a wave of lines above his scrunched eyes and too long fingers rub at the side of his face as if it numb from sleep.

"You're mommy and daddy have nine to five jobs and alarm clocks. Get off of me," he grumbles. Andrey does have the good grace to slide off, immediately latching onto his brother with cute burbles of affection. His cheeks are near permanently high in color thanks to all of his running around and it clashes with the green in his eyes and the black of his hair.

Lucky only stares at them and they stare back expectantly. Until of course Alexander's hateful eye roll of death appears. "We want you to tell us a story."

"And I want a snack!" Andrey yells, rolling over into the plush silk sheets with a shit eating grin, all tiny baby teeth and red cheeks to the point Lucky sighs heavily as if he is put upon and slowly hauls himself out of bed. The twins are still young enough they are not phased by his nudity so he lazily loped over to the chest of drawers and rifled about, slipping into a pair of Alaric's jeans, not even bothering with underwear or even buttoning them up as he continued to rub at his face.

"Kitchen first," he barks, waving his free hand and he groans as they both energetically bounded out of the room. Lucky follows at his own slower pace and wishes suddenly that their house was not quite so sprawling as it took three days to get to the kitchen, but once there he put on a pot of coffee and fished out his chocolate chip poptarts (which the kids always tried to steal but Sakey was having none of it).

Soon he is fed and caffeinated and the boys once again begin clamoring for a story. "Pleeeease dad. I want a story about mermaids!"

"I want Godzilla!"

Lucky wanted to go back to bed. He sighs, walking over to the large entertainment center where he falls onto the sofa like a walking stick insect and stares at the ridiculously high ceiling, the hot ceramic mug biting a red ring around his exposed belly button.

"Well go get me a book and I'll read to you."

Alexander is immediately in his face, large amber eyes peering at him superiorly behind his glasses. "Not a book," he exclaims as if the very idea is absolutely disgusting, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "You're a writer! We want you to make us a story. Duh!"

Andrey nods right along as if he is some strange counterpart to Alexander, a motor function accidentally assigned to a seperate body. "With Godzilla."

Lucky groaned, closing his eyes and reaching for the remote, flicking on the television and looking through the movie channels in disdain. "I'm not going to write you a book. You have plenty of them in your bedroom and we have even more that you've not read in the library. Educate yourselves."

"You really suck at your job! No wonder you've only sold one book!" Alexander pouts, sounding entirely too put out for his age and pale green eyes cut over to him instantly as ifthat had really stung. His lips thin and he gives his own identical pout in return.

"Hey there, you little bastard, I've technically published two and nobody asked your opinion. If I had wanted it, I would have beat it out of you."

Andrey giggles like this is funny, his face appearing around Alexander's shoulder, his tiny but pointed chin resting against his collarbone. They look almost identical at this age save for their hair and eye color and Lucky's inner poet suddenly strikes up with a vengeance just looking at them. The two little fruits of his tiny family's loins, little pieces of himself and his lovers all compiled inside of....

Andrey gives a little burp and both boys dissolve into loud shrieking giggles that hurt Lucky's sensitive brain.

All compiled inside of two absolutely obnoxious retards.

"If I tell you both a story will you fuck off?" The blond boy looks ready to object, his mouth opening, but Andrey beats him.

"I still want a snack!"

Alexander smirks and cocks his head as if to say 'hah'. Lucky can already tell he is doomed to a day of entertaining them both.

"I hate you both so much. Come with me to the kitchen. I'll make some chicken nuggets." Beside him Alexander and Andrey look expectant and Lucky sighs heavily.

"All right, all right. Once upon a time..."

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-21T22:49:00

2009-01-22T04:49:49Z

Title: Domestic Bliss
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Uriel White copyright me, and Samael Black copywrite Jessica
Summary: Samael is a messy douche and Uriel stomps.

Uriel had lived through the Dark Ages. He'd watch people roll about in their own filth just because there was no other option. He'd watched people die of Bubonic Plague and in rat infested sewers. The amount of muck and grime people could just live among throughout their day to day lives made Uriel just want to vomit in his mouth.

It was now of course the year 2009 and in Lein there were no such abominations. Lein was, in fact, one of the cleanest places in the world. The streets were cleaned twice daily, recycling processes were at nearly 80% in the whole country and they had more preventive acts in place just to keep away littering that it was ridiculous.

There was no doubt as to why Uriel had chosen this place to live.

He owned a cozy townhouse in the bustle of the corporate downtown area near the university he taught at. It was a lovely pale brick thing with a perfectly leaf free roof. Every room was white or grey and Uriel's eyes were keen enough that he could spot dust a mile away.

Every morning he would wake up and eat plain toast and English tea, read the paper, and go over his study plan before he'd put on a tie, climb onto his lovely motorcycle named Sola Fide, and drive at exactly the speed limit to the campus. He taught History of English and Shakespearean History with an iron fist over thin silver framed glasses. His students all feared his rather cutting eyes and frosty, uppercrust voice to the point they joked and called him Professor Verglas, or Professor Black Ice.

Fortunately his personality was able to ignore stupidity of this sort perfectly well. He only straightened his back yet more and continued lecturing like his words were hammering into students like pelting frozen rain. If they disliked him it hardly mattered. What always mattered was whether they did well in his class and learned something. It was his own form of mild philanthropy since he was on a very extended vacation for his real work.

Though there appeared to be absolutely nothing angelic about Uriel, he was in fact quite holy. The mortals of the world could not see anything special about him. They couldn't see the large wings that trailed after him everywhere, blindingly white and immaculate. His skin glowed faintly as pale as snow and there was a holy book in his bag at all times that only immortals could see. His divinity was not an important part of his life here.

He'd done plenty of tasks. He'd caused the great and awful eruption of Pompeii, the tidal waves that shook whole countries. He was the face behind El Nino and hurricanes and currently his only job was to slowly reverse the temperatures of the world. It was an easy and boring task, leaving him all the time in the world to simply...be a human.

And he'd been doing perfectly fine until...Sam.

Samael was something he'd never expected. Surprisingly throughout the existence of time he'd somehow never managed to meet the bastard. He'd heard a lot about him certainly but never laid eyes on him, figuratively or otherwise.

But for some reason this particular millenia decided to favor him with his presence. On his way home from the grocery store, his purchases in hand (expensive Australian wine, French bread, lettuce, radishes, and a wheel of cheese with a name too hard to pronounce) Uriel accidently bumped shoulders with another man.

Or more appropriately, his wings jostled into another pair. Immediately he had startled to attention, seeing a simple black whisp of a feather fall near his expensive leather shoes. Uriel glanced up to see a man just taller than him. His skin was clear and pale and his hair was long, pulled back into a low ponytail and dark as night, as if eating all the light around him. But his eyes...his eyes were so many colors Uriel couldn't disern them. Brown, black, deep red, they all melded together into a void that felt very much like the man was sucking away his soul.

From that moment on the man had begun to stalk him. Coming around to speak to him at his school, hinting at all manner of vile things. He pushed, prodded, joked, and sometimes even physically forced reactions out of him.

And for a year they continued this way until Uriel just utterly failed himself and on one inevitable, nondescript and blustery Tuesday afternoon Uriel lost his fated virginity to a demon who was nothing like Uriel could ever imagine himself liking. He was rude, impulsive, snarky. He smoked too much and drank too much, always out buying clothes and foreign cars not to fit in but to simply splurge. Samael had sex with strangers and told crude jokes, stared at women's cleavage and groped at men in public restrooms. Uriel found him utterly disgusting.

And strangely intoxicating for it.

As of late the man practically lived in his house. He had trailed in expensive suit after suit and had even begun smoking indoors after Uriel's explicit rules not to. He left dirty clothes on his floor and didn't rince out the shower after he used it. He hate and didn't put his dishes in the washer and he never took his shoes off at the door as requested.

Uriel...was going to kill him. His delicate sensibilities and raging need for tidiness gnawed away at him to the point he was cleaning his house out of sheer, agonizing -spite-. Samael hated being ignored almost as much as Uriel hated his face. And one particular night he retaliated.

From where he was drawing up a syllabus in his study he could hear an almighty crash and Uriel, thinking Samael was hurt, immediately sprang to his feet and ran into the living room where Samael was leaning against the back of the sofa nearby, a large collection of painstakingly handpainted glass shards littering his plush carpet.

Samael only smirked and flicked ash on the white leather sofa looking for all the world as innocent as baby Jesus himself.

"Oops," the demon called, taking a long drag of his cigarette and exhaling lazily, his familiar and perfectly shaped lips practically caressing the smoke as it left his throat.

Uriel stared at him with ever growing anger, his eyes growing stormy and dark, his hands clenching and turning bone white at his sides before he erupted like Mount Vesuvius itself. "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!? THAT THING WAS FUCKING EXPENSIVE! DO YOU NOT REALIZE IT'S GOING TO TAKE ME DAYS TO GET ALL THOSE TINY PIECES OUT OF MY CARPET?" He roars loudly, his decorum lost and two tiny patches of pink flaring on his pale cheeks.

"I WALK BAREFOOT SAM, YOU OUTRAGEOUS BASTARD!" The angel snarled some more before stamping over and snatching his cigarette, hurrying to flick it out of the window. But Samael is still smirking, rolling his eerie but strangely seductive eyes.

"Oh shut up and sleep with me, it was just a vase."

Uriel seethed, shoving him away into the back of his sofa. "Don't tell me what to do! Why don't YOU go fuck YOURSELF! Because I am going to get the vacuum cleaner and when I am done I am kicking your sorry ass out of my house!"

He stamps away, his grey cashmere sockclad feet not doing much in the way of making a lot of self-righteous noise on the way and the next second his center of gravity is turned funny as something heavy makes impact with his body.

His face is squished rather unattractively into his carpet and he realizes within the moment that Samael has veritably tackled him to the floor. Instantly Uriel begins fighting and yelling, trying to bite the hands nearby.

"Don't be such a baby," Samael whispers sensually into his ear and Uriel can feel his pants being tugged down. Samael has the unnerving ability to be able to lubricated and ready within the blink of an eye and Uriel is forced to clench at the carpet with white fingers as Samael pushes into him and sucks warmly and heavily at his sensitive neck.

As always Uriel is reduced to a puddle and he whimpers masculinely into the carpet. He can feel tiny glass shards against his hands and forearms but he cannot seem to compute them, to care about them...because Sam is chuckling into his ear humidly and turning his jaw gently to kiss him in the same way as the very first time, like he was sucking away his soul with unmistakable hunger.

A little while later Samael has a brand new cigarette and Uriel is left to deal with two messes instead of one, but his fuming is decidedly less passionate, too tired and sated to even bother going to pick a fight.

Until tomorrow of course, when he finds the dirty dishes in the sink.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-11T12:23:00

2009-01-11T18:23:23Z

Title: The Gorey Business of Dark Hour
Fandom: Original/Persona3
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Lucky Genevera, Sakejet Yvan-Lacun, Alaric Klein, Caim Yvan-Dezra, Yamaoka Seygue, and Jesst Yvan Lacun.
AU: There are two game inconsistencies so uh...there.
Summary: Nobody laugh at me. =[

Lucky fingers the ridges of the gun in his hand. The metal is a bright silver than winks deceptively up at him, reflecting the paleness of his eyes back to him. He has been locked in his room most of the day, trying to wrap his head around his fate here. They'd described it to him endlessly, telling him his new duty should he embrace it, his new powers, his new...team. And it was daunting and terrifying but Lucky was...bored, and this was exciting if a little horrifying.

"Persona," Lucky whispers to him, still staring at the blurry, distorted reflection of his eyes in the not quite gun. He has to shoot himself. How terribly dramatic. He worries for the day he accidentally gets a bullet to the brain and dies. Fortunately he's just stupid and impulsive enough not to care. He'd say yes within a few minutes to the chairman simply because he'd not been thinking.

A quiet knock sounds on his door and Lucky bites his lip. In all of his years at St. Jamaisterre no one had ever really spoken to him, or gone out of their way to do so. Lucky was too busy dealing with his schizophrenia to be able to socialize much. But there it was just the same; a knock.

Lucky slowly got to his feet, knees popping in protest as he slowly opened the door. On the other side is the very short and lovely faced blond boy that also happened to be on the team. He was like the second in command another boy in the group had told him. Sakejet Yvan-Lacun. His persona was Laksmi and he was soft spoken and always polite as befitting his inner godess.

"Are you alright?" he whispers, his dainty fingers pressing into the wood of his doorframe, large brown eyes looking concerned behind thing silver glasses. Lucky feels a bit stupid really, standing there and speechless. He had not expected any of the other members to speak to him. But here is Sakey on his doorstep and reaching forward to touch his arm.

So Lucky sighs, waving his evoker in a blase fashion. "Thinking about what it's going to be like to kill myself repeatedly."

It's the truth. He's afraid of it, he's afraid of death in any situation, whether himself or others and so he looks a little green as he gives Sakey a smirk. "But otherwise I'm alright. Michael only comes during the Dark Hour. I realized that after the chairman told me everything. Maybe...if I do this...I can finally be rid of him."

The blond looks yet more concerned and only trails his fingers along his arm before taking them back. Polite to a fault. Lucky clears his throat. "I'm guessing we're going tonight?"

"If you feel alright," Sakey finishes, giving a small nod and warm smile before he walks away. At the end of the hall the boy named Alaric appears, wrapping an arm around him boyishly and speaking in excited whispers. He was Freya. It was easy to learn all of what Alaric was about just because he wore all of his emotions right in the open. Lucky tapped his fingers on the door frame before slowly letting himself back in his room.

He puts his evoker away and instead grabs a hefty book and begins reading, not at all wanting to think about tonight whenever midnight strikes. He takes a nap so he is not tired and at eleven thirty he makes the slow decent to the room on the top floor.

Everyone is already seated and Lucky swallows thickly as he moves to as well next to a very stoic looking boy that is younger than him. Caim. Caim -actually- scared Lucky a bit, which was a mean feat. The boy never seemed to smile in public and he had an edge to his eyes that unnerved him. When he'd found out his persona was Atropos he had about nearly wet himself, trying not to think of the fact that his was actually the strongest out of the group.

Next to him is a tiny waifish boy with fluffy rabbit like hair. His name was Seygue and he had learned little about him so far. Everyone spoke about him in hushed tones like he was made of fine china and Lucky was curious as hell to find out why. His persona was the yatagarasu and Lucky had found that very fitting the first time he'd seen the boy smile.

Sakejet and Alaric are also present on the other side of the couch, next to a very pink haired girl who is smiling despite the hour. Her name was Jesst and she was just a bundle of energy. Lucky was never sure what to make of her as she bounded about burbling sweet compliments and well wishes. Her persona was Titania and she was always the one stay back in Tartarus while the rest of them went out to fight the shadows.

His first night finds Lucky nervous, hands sweating against his jeans. They follow Alaric quietly through the first room. They have obviously already been fighting. Everything is still and quiet along the golden walls. Something suspiciously like blood is seen splattered every few feet and Lucky feels sick, clutching his spear a little closer.

His persona, Omoikane, is still very new and underexperienced. He's terrified of what may happen. Next to him the little Seygue reaches over and grabs his hand, smiling his sun filled smile once again and he relaxes, glad that Caim isn't looking. Seygue has a simple but deadly looking tessen folded in his hand and Lucky wonders how well he can weild it.

Up ahead Sakey has a very distinguished saber, Alaric a simple but deadly looking gun far larger than their evokers, and Caim carries what looks to be a smaller sized mace that would no doubt kill a large man with one blow. Were the shadows that large?

Up ahead they finally spot one. It is a bizarre thing, like a large priest but with both sides of its body seemingly made out of moving fingers. Lucky's stomach turns over and he clutches his spear closer. God. Immediately Alaric summons his, a sleek wolf appears and howls melodically. A streak of lightning shines down from nowhere and Lucky gasps as it hits the monster.

Sakey immediately moves forward next, putting the evoker up to his temple with an almost listless sort of confidence, calling forth his persona with his lovely androgynous voice. A beautiful woman appears clad in filmy material. Her hair is done up intricately with jeweled pins and flowers and she moves gracefully, flicking her wrist at the monster, sending a great sheet of ice towards it which explodes against the monsters vulnerable chest.

The ugly thing bleeds dark blue on the floor and Lucky looks away as his stomach rolls over on itself. Caim goes next, a dead sort of smirk spreading across his face as he positions the evoke just beneath his chin. When he calls for his persona he is whispering so low that Lucky can barely hear him.

"Atropos." Suddenly a second woman appears. Her hair is long and dark, covering bare torso. Her eyes empty sockets, killing the otherwise striking and deadly beauty she had about her. She lifts a thin arm, her fingers brandishing a large and rusted pair of scissors. She points them wickedly at the monster and gives a creepy little giggle as he lets the blades fall together with a decisive little 'snip'. The sound causes a huge gust of wind to come up, billowing Lucky's hair as he looks around for the cause and when he looks back the monster has been hit with the force of it. The wind had cut large gashes all over it's body as if he'd been weathered by sand for years.

It is his turn and he can barely hold his evoker for how nervous and sick he feels. He closes his eyes and wills himself not to throw up as he presses the evoker to his cheek. It is cold, cruel, and terrifying but he grits his teeth and shouts her name, "Omoikane", before squeezing down on the trigger with perhaps too much force. He expects excruciating pain, he expects darkness...something. Instead he feels rushing, like Caim's wind through his body, from his toes up and up within a split second before he feels something bizarrely like his soul slip out from the invisible wound in his head.

When he snaps his eyes open again a third goddess has appeared. He has only seen her in his dreams but he had never known who she was. Her hair is long and gloriously blond and she has gentle but pale blue eyes. She has a sense adoration about her and she is perfectly bare as if she stayed this way to prove a point. She lifts a bangled wrist and points her hand, fingers spread at the monster who might as well be dead right now anyway.

Just like Alaric a thin and deadly thread of lightly shoots from her beautiful palm, slicing through the monster and when her lovely image fades away the monster is left there smoking and about ready to kill them all.

At last Alaric calls Seygue forward and the tiny little boy moves forward with a beaming smile to their leader. He takes out his evoker and swallows, still very afraid to do this everytime like Lucky had been. He presses it to his thin chest and squeezes with his eyes closed.

A beautifulblack bird reminiscent of a crow flies over his head, its plumage glistening. If Lucky looks close enough he can just catch the third leg the creature is said to have. Seygue smiles at it softly and bites his lip as he bird bird rises higher and higher and opens its tiny beak.

When Seygue smiles Lucky is positive he can see the sun in him, like his tiny body holds it and protects it as the myth said. When the bird opens its beak there is literally a blazing fire trying to escape and the bird caws angrily before the flames go spilling forward, engulfing the bizarre shadow wholly.

Lucky watches in horror as the thing screeches in pain until it is quickly reduced to a pile of ashes. From in their heads they all hear Jesst's bubbly voice, almost disgustingly cheerful after the gorey battle they'd just watched.

"That was great guys!" she cheered and Lucky put a hand over his mouth.

What in the world had he signed up for?

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2009-01-07T00:13:00

2009-01-07T06:14:10Z

Title: Practical
Fandom: Original/Noire
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Madoc Haywood and Theodore Genadieve
Summary: Madoc was a practical sort. He took his tea with no sugar or cream. He seperated his laundry. He painstakingly watered the flowers in the little box outside his shop every day...

Madoc was a practical sort. He took his tea with no sugar or cream. He seperated his laundry. He painstakingly watered the flowers in the little box outside his shop every day with exactly one watering can worth of water. A creature of habit, sturdy. If you were Mrs. Grady in the butcher shop next door, Madoc was also referred to as good marriage material.

And many women did fancy him. Pretty pink faced girls in laced bonnets came in to buy poetry books from his little bookstore, sneezing daintily on dust and smiling with dimples on proud display. Poor dears never found much luck. Madoc always helped them with a charming disposition and sent them on their way with a wish for them to return for business.

Every night at six o'clock Madoc would putter around his shop. He would dump out and clean the tea kettle, rearrange the shelves, empty out his busted little cash register and them primly turn the open sign backwards. Each gas light was slowly eased off until the shop was filled with inky darkness, following Madoc as he made his way up the rickety stares to his little home at the top.

It's nothing special. A small kitchen bleeding into a bedroom, a little door nearby leading to a small bathroom. An antique writing desk sits wedged under the small window, covered in paperwork and novels, ink stains covering a good deal of them all in their disarray.

Madoc was just an average citizen of Hay-on-Wye. He paid his bills. He attended mass on Sundays. He gave beggars his pocket change when he strolled home from the market. There was nothing truly exceptional about him at all and he had gone on believing that for years.

He had of course always known he was a bit on the peculiar side. During his school days he'd eyed up the boy's shorts a bit more often than the girl's skirts but it had never phased him much. After attending an all boy's boarding school early on he simply couldn't learn to care. Away from his parents at the age of 27 he felt no bother.

One particular evening in May Madoc ventured out to attend to an intellectual convention in Brussels over a very popular philosophy novelist. It had been a bit on the dull side. Despite his own dull exterior Madoc rather fancied heroic tales of dashing princes, dragons, women in peril. The cut and dry world of science and lofty ideals had sat with him funny.

But a particularly lovely pair of brown eyes kept him occupied throughout the speeches and signings. Madoc had been sure he'd been making it up whenever the long haired stranger had first been caught staring. The man didn't bother looking away, his ginger brows instead drawing together in reflection. Madoc turned pink so often through that three day weekend that he was surprised he had not turned so permanently.

It was on the last day that he ever found out his name. Waiting for his train back to Wales the taller gentlemen walked over. Up close Madoc could finally make out his facial features and the pink color he'd been so aggrieved with rose back to life on his cheeks.

The man had a distinguished face, all blase attention, high, poised brows, and sharp cheekbones. This sort of face was the product of good breeding and whenever he spoke a soft and cultured voice met Madoc's ears.

He introduced himself as Teddy, explaining he was a philosophy student in Noire, studying abroad. They talked for several minutes on that platform of literature and many things. Madoc forgets most of it. He only remembers his face and whenever his train arrives he flushes red and looks around guiltily, knowing he would have to leave his new friend now.

But Teddy is swift, taking his hand and bending low to place a single kiss on the back with perfect lips. "In my country...it is not customary to take up with a woman as I'm sure you know. It must be...difficult in Wales." The man smirks and takes a small leatherbound book from his sleeve, handing it to Madoc along with a pen. "May I have your writing address?"

Madoc is so embarrassed and so smitten, so utterly unsure of himself, that he writes down his address with a stupid smile, handing the book back over shakily. "It....it was nice to meet you Teddy. Perhaps we will meet again."

Teddy nods solemnly and bows him off, watching as Madoc boarded his train.The ride was longer than usual. Madoc's green eyes stared out at the sprawling greenery in a far off sort of way. His head is full of philosophy and heavy lidded brown eyes that resembled a lethargic lion resting in the savannah.

Madoc wanted.

Days creep by once his life in Hay-on-Wye is reinstated. He opens his little shop and smiles charmingly to his lacy bonnet girls, serves tea to the eldery gentlemen who discuss politics and smoke their pipes in the tartan chairs, and closes his shop at exactly six o'clock.

But one dreary Wednesday brings a letter of rich parchment paper and Madoc opens it to find a letter from Teddy. It is a sprawling and well thought out things, flowery words scrawled elegantly in deep violent ink, handwriting as flagrant as a flamenco dancer. It is...oddly endearing and Madoc rereads the letter every chance he gets.

His letter in reply is short, awkward. Black ink smatters line his crooked rows of sentences and when he signs his name he can't help but feel he has sold himself short. Despite it the letters from Teddy continue. Each one details how lovely Madoc is...how sweet his smile is and how lovely his eyes are. Madoc has never once been considered exceptional in his life.

Until Teddy found something in him that others failed to see.

A year easily passed. Things betwen them escalated as Teddy had always intended. Madoc worked in his shop in Wales and Teddy visited every two months amid flurries of letters. Come that summer Madoc confesses he loves the red haired man. And surprisingly enough, Teddy responds in kind, his brown eyes kindling.

It's not until the depths of winter that Teddy arrives on his doorstep. He always wore extravagant dress and this time is no different. A thick coat rests on his shoulders, the thick black furr nestled around his ears covered in snow. He hastily pulls Madoc close to him and their lips seal together.

It is a strange urgency that has taken over his love. It is a difference Madoc does not understand, but his ink stained fingers clench in the snow drenched fur regardless, meeting the kiss with equal ardor. When they pull away they are both speckled white with snowflakes and Madoc is sure his nose is a rather unattractive pink from the cold but nothing matters in the face of the urgency on Teddy's face.

He whispers that he wants Madoc to come away with him, come to Noire. He goes on to say he can't explain right then, that time was of the essence. And despite his little shop that he had poored his heart into...Madoc goes, morosely turning his sign from open to closed and dousing all of his lamps.

It's the last he ever sees of it.

In Noire a whole new world awaits him and in the courtyard of the Triumvirate Castle Teddy takes his hands. Teddy asks him to marry him. Feeling flushed, exhilerated, and terrified out of his mind, Madoc finds the word yes drip past his lips just as a wiry looking blond man lopes over.

"So...are you planning on running the country sometime -today-, Theodore?"

And Madoc suddenly doesn't feel very practical or ordinary at all anymore.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2008-06-30T23:09:00

2008-07-01T04:08:49Z

Title: Epsilon
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Lucky Genevra and several others.
Summary: This is fifty prompts with one sentence per prompt centering around Lucky.

1. motion
The world is spinning on its axis, throwing his vision into a whirl of dark colors and all he can hear are pained screams and the solid, jarring crunch of speeding metal slicing into metal.

2. cool
Sakey's skin beneath Lucky's fingers is cool to the touch and uniformly pale, his flesh the color of faintly glowing moonlight and somehow still warm despite it all.

3. young
He still finds it strange to look in the mirror and realize five years of his life never happened, that a sixteen year old face stares back at him and that this is the new norm.

4. last
"Your lapses are becoming further and further apart," Felix murmured while giving Lucky a smile, and inside Lucky can't help but cling to this praise because despite the fact that he hates it here he wants his mental visits to last longer.

5. wrong
Sleeping is made so much more difficult when there is a boy with a broken neck and exposed ribs laying beside you.

6. gentle
Sakey touches him in ways that Michael could never achieve because the blue eyed boy's smile resembles nothing but razors.

7. one
Lucky prays everyday that someone will visit him that he recognizes for even a moment because he cannot get over how achingly depressing it is that the only person he knows here doesn't really exist at all.

8. thousand
He's hit word one thousand in his word document and yet the letters continue to spill out of him like some desperate, manic plea for salvation nestled in a clean cut stack of paper.

9. king
"The human has been kicked from his loved pedestal, and by a demon masquerading as an angel of all things," Lucky reads aloud before glancing over to make sure Sakey is still asleep and has not heard.

10. learn
Andrey laughs loudly and rams his head back against his father's chest in delight as he finally learned how to spell bird in French, as if this was the crowning achievement of his two year old life.

11. blur
Three years have passed and Lucky remembers nothing but blissful, hot oblivion.

12. wait
Handing the manuscript over to Wendy was awful, but waiting the three weeks for her to read the work was like waiting to hear the verdict of your own murder case.

13. change
Lucky stares at pale green eyes in the mirror and lifts his hand, running long fingers through hair that is now well beyond his ears and can't help but smirk humorlessly to his reflection at the progress that has been made.

14. command
"Andrey Voltaire don't you fucking dare touch that laptop or I will fucking scalp you."

15. hold
Lucky holds onto Sakey's body and does not sleep at all as he watches the dawn tear away at pale blank walls until the day of his departure finally arrives in all of its bloody glory.

16. need
Lucky's stomach gives a grumpy sort of growl and Lucky growls right back so that the vibrations in his throat will make Alaric moan and more willing to get in the damned kitchen.

17. vision
It was almost sad to buy the twins a pair of glasses at the ripe age of two seeing as they seemed far too large for their faces.

18. attention
There are sounds of movement behind the bathroom door and Lucky mourns driving the pregnant Sakey inside with all of his smothering adoration and he raps on it gently, pressing his forehead against the glass.

19. soul
That's when Lucky finally realized that there was no redemption in the blue eyed boy...when the shard of glass bore deeply into the blue and not a whisper of love shined out.

20. picture
Next to condoms and beside lubrication is the smallest photo album Lucky has ever owned and inside of it is exactly seventy-four photographs of everything he could lose in a split second.

21. fool
In the tiny sliver of space between the door and the wall Lucky could just make out the rather frenzied movements of Sakey doing exactly what he vowed he'd never do and it made the past week very worth it.

22. mad
He's never much cared a bit about Caim until that moment when he is faced with only a terribly painful row of bloody stitches along normally smooth skin after hours of searching.

23. child
Lucky has never seen anything quite so ugly and fragile as the little baby boy nestled in the crook of his arm, a hand the size of a quarter clenching tightly at his index finger with surprising strength.

24. now
The world is centering and the room becoming unbearably hot and Lucky cannot stop himself from pressing his hips yet closer to Sakey's as Alaric nudged forward behind him at the same time, engulfing him in sensation and driving away that fickle mistress called self-control.

25. shadow
Michael only manifests in the corners of his eyes nowadays but it is still enough to make him bite his lip and hesitate in his movements every time.

26. goodbye
His heartrate accelerates like it's trying to fly free as the room he wakes up in is completely unfamiliar as are the two beautiful men lying beside him and Lucky cannot stop himself as he jumps away and whispers a terrfied, "Where am I?"

27. hide
Never before had Lucky considered a game of peekaboo as one of the best games ever created.

28. fortune
"Oh yes," exclaims Wendy's tinny voice through Lucky's cellphone before she continues with, "Your book has already sold off the shelves so look forward to quite a royalty check mister."

29. safe
His very first night away from Mountain Ash Lucky realizes that he will forever love the Ten-2 building because it is much too high up to ever have tree silhouettes on the walls.

30. ghost
Sometimes Vincent freaked the fuck out of him with some of the things he would say, always sounding identical to Nick who he's already come to terms with not existing.

31. book
217, Lucky counted in his head as he flourished his name on the two hundred and seventeeth book cover that was put before him with a frown that made a grown woman look close to tears.

32. eye
Andrey and Alexander had the most gorgeous eyes on the planet, nearly silver brown and a richly textured hazel that left Lucky positive that they would be lady killers.

33. never
Love was for people more deserving...and not lunatics.

34. sing
Alaric was singing in the shower again that morning, Magdalena reaching Lucky's half awake ears and making him crankily drag himself out of bed because no one should ever be able to sleep through a steamy invitation like that one.

35. sudden
Lucky stares forever at the tiny blue plus sign and wonders just when in the hell it happened because surely he must have blinked.

36. stop
The tiny little dancer girl pounded his three hundred pound ass onto the arena with a large KO for the twelfth time and Lucky angrily threw his controller, kissing Seygue's head and wandering away before his ego could shatter some more.

37. time
"Sakey," he mumurs, pulling the blond back down by his pajama bottoms, "It's only four...we can go atleast three more rounds."

38. wash
There was nothing quite so terrifying as a giant killing machine with a metal mask sitting waist deep in a large nest of bubbles and trying to make a hat out of them inquisitively.

39. torn
Sakey is getting dressed for work with long, sensuous movements and Alaric nearby is walking about gracefully naked in search of a favorite tie while Lucky is forced to stare between the two longingly.

40. history
"And that is why you always use a condom," Lucky chuckles into the twins' hair, watching in great amusement as they cock their three year old, fluffy heads in confusion.

41. power
Alaric has never looked better than when his wrists strained against silk neckties and Sakey settles between his knees.

42. bother
Andrey loves to bounce on top of his stomach at six in the morning with requests as bizarre as 'take me to the park' to 'Dad, there's a flesh eat'n lizard under my bed.'

43. god
G's chair did not move and Grey did not bother to step further forward as Uriel simply smiled enigmatically and took his hand, leading him to the next room that consisted only of large windows.

44. wall
It will never quit being amusing to Lucky that he had managed to steal not one, but three kisses from the very intoxicated Sakey that night, orderlies notwithstanding.

45. naked
Lucky hopped up on the counter with his chocolate chip poptarts and glared balefully at the microwave as he ate until a split second later he heard a very Sophie like squeal and he immediately squeezed his eyes shut at his luck.

46. drive
Alaric driving Baby has been and will forever be the best foreplay in Lucky's adult life.

47. harm
Seven's thin arms are tight against his collarbone as it heaves and falls with great strength in the face of a black metal barrel that whispered his goodbyes for him.

48. precious
There is nothing quite so calming as thunderstorms to Lucky simply because he always managed to be in the middle of his two lovers with Andrey and Alexander nestled at his sides, making the entire family squish to one bed.

49. hunger
There is the faint, oily taste of Chinese food on Sakey's tongue and Lucky lifts his tiny body up onto the counter with great enthusiasm, his tongue eagerly chasing the delicious taste.

50. believe
The feeling of rain on his upturned face was the very first sensation of the outside world for Lucky and he stood there with his arms slowly outstretching, his clothes quickly becoming drenched and sticking to his skin...the rain felt like freedom.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2008-05-11T13:20:00

2008-05-11T18:20:39Z

Title: Le Manoir Gris
Fandom: Original/Abaddon
Rating: PG
Characters: Terrence Pierpont, Dr. Sterling, and Anya Belikov
Summary: Le Manoir Gris is a place with an auspicious name...but a not so auspicious interior.
AN: Sort of a character introspection, sort of a scene introduction.

Le Manoir Gris is a place with an auspicious name...but a not so auspicious interior.

When Terrence had first heard that he was leaving his small house in the bustle of the city for a manor near the Abaddon Cathedral for his new studies he had been ecstatic. He had daydreamed endlessly as he helped his mother wash his clothes and fold them. He dreamed of high ceilings and gleaming dark wood floors with plush oriental rugs and large fireplaces to keep out the cold. At night as he slept in the small cot near the kitchen furnace he did so with a small smile on his face as he dreamt of luxurious and clean bedclothes kept warm by heating pans.

Three days of endless speculation later Sterling arrived on his humble, crumbling doorstep to pick him up. There was a coach waiting, the sort no one ever paid attention to, unlike when the triumvirate members passed through. Terrence had said a hasty goodbye to his mother before he got in.

Sterling said little, merely spoke to him in a quiet voice of all the things he expected. He told him his course load and about his daughter Anya. He expected Terrence to work diligently from sunrise to sunset, and the rest of the time was left to him. He expected him to leave his daughter strictly alone for she was ill and needed no great attention from loud, ruffian boys.

Apparently Sterling did not expect much for he fell quiet shortly after those two requests and Terrence was left to watch the snow fall outside of his tiny fogged window. The coach sloshed them about as they got further away from the heart of the city, having to slog through higher snow here.

When they stopped, Terrence was confused.

Le Manoir Gris was a large home and Terrence was sure it had been quite stately at some point. Now it was almost black thanks to the snow with equally dark windows that were empty. There was no color and as far as Terrence could see, no lights. But Sterling looked perfectly nonplussed as he led the way, holding the door open so Terrence could lug his large but lonely case inside.

It was similarly dark and empty inside, the wall sconces allowing the smallest of puddles of light to actually reach the floor. The floor was dark wood as he had expected but did not gleam under the firelight, merely echoed back emptily like space. Near the door was a staircase that looked rickety at best and Terrence was immediately afraid of it but Sterling was already leading him up it.

Every other step squeaked ominously beneath his light weight and the railing was perhaps the only thing that was polished in the house, shining a dark black and warm to the touch. Terrence knew because he was holding on dearly to the banister as he climbed, needing the unspoken support.

His room turned out to be small but he did not complain. At the door Sterling drew a small piece of chalk from his pocket and scratched a small symbol into the wood of his doorframe. The room flared into dim light the moment the chalk left the surface. It so startled Terrence that he did not even notice his new room for a moment as he stared in wonder.

There was an actual bed pushed against the wall with cream colored sheets and blankets as well as a deep purple afghan at the foot. Bookshelves lined one short wall and a large, rather grotesquely ornate green chair stood nearby next to a lamp. There was only one window for which Terrence was grateful and from it he could see the snow drenched world outside as well as the large church nearby.

He'd almost say it was picturesque, but he hated the snow and so it fell short.

The tour of the house continued after his bag was left and Sterling stopped Terrence forcefully at the door and took the chalk out of his pocket, placing it into his spidery hand. Terrence did not know what to do but Sterling gruffly and hurriedly murmured a series of rapidfire instructions, motioning with his hand and drawing a symbol in midair before indicating to the space below the symbol Sterling himself had drawn.

Terrence swallowed thickly and very nervously did what he hoped was right, nearly fainting in relief as his room plunged into darkness. Sterling smiled and nodded. Terrence glowed a bit.

The rest of the house turned out to be rather equally unmiraculous. The kitchen was an ugly thing, long fallen into disuse. The yellow brick of the floor was unwashed and the counters held a layer of dust. Several dirty pots filled the sink and a strange smell permeated the air. Terrence made a note to eventually get this particular room up to some sort of health standard. Perhaps Sterling simply worked too hard to cook, always out and about all over the country and taking care of his sick daughter. He truly needed help and Terrence could give it.

Anya's room held only three things. A bed, a large dollhouse, and Anya. Anya's eyes were deep brown that shined black, empty like the windows, as did her hair. She was small and far too thin, just like Terrence and her eyes were far too large for her heart shaped face.

When Sterling looked at her she only stared back dully. Terrence didn't understand and he wondered what was wrong with her. She did look sickly, her pale skin clashed with the deep purple bruises of her eyes and he fancied she shook a bit when she moved. It wasn't until she opened her mouth that he really realized why.

"Helloooo Sterling," she cooed, voice cracking a bit as she fingered the doll in her hand. "Brought about a little soldier have we? He's not much of a soldier. Perhaps he's a rabbit. Are you a rabbit?"

Terrence blushed deeply but Sterling only shook his head and moved to close the door. "Do your studies Anya," he muttered, and the strangeness ended with the solid click of the doors latch.

Sterling eyed Terrence over his glasses for a long moment before clearing his throat and heading down the dark hallway. "I'm sorry," he managed to say, though Terrence wasn't really sure if he was or not. He could not read the man for the life of him, but he supposed you're not really supposed to understand what you admire.

Sterling's living quarters were off limits and at the very end of the hall. The only other rooms Terrence was allowed in were on the ground floor. One being the Violet Study and the Vermilion Study. Both were filled to the brim with books and Terrence felt breathless.

He immediately became attached to the red room and that is where Sterling left him, fingering the spines of books, becoming acquainted with ancient leather and peeling goldleaf. Terrence would eventually spend everyday in this room studying until he exhausted himself and using the time after sunset to clean the kitchen.

By a month later he could turn lights on and off, make fire, and cause the small portrait of his mother that rested on his nightstand to play Greensleeves at six am every morning. Sterling was absent nearly half of his days, meaning nearly all of his studying was left to him. It was shockingly lonely...having only books and a crazy person as company. And the house was horrifically cold, full of drafts and icy windows. The Vermilion Room had a large fireplace but he had to restock it every hour or so. No one ever knocked on the door unless they needed a magical solution and Terrence didn't like the eerie sounds of the church bells nearby.

But he didn't mind. He shouldn't mind.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2008-04-06T22:41:00

2008-04-07T03:41:29Z

Title: Safekeeping
Fandom: Original/Abaddon
Rating: PG
Characters: Cadence Warlow and Roan
AN: Cadence is the servant of one of my political leaders who was kidnapped by Nightingale. Roan is the one who keeps guard over him and two other prisoners during their stay. I love them both and they love each other...eventually.

Perin had stopped crying by the third day.

Cadence wasn't sure if this was a sign that the little boy was no longer afraid of the situation or if he, like himself and Orion, was simply too tired to care anymore. It had been three nights of sleeplessness and holding the crying boy in his lap while allowing his father to sleep. It wasn't something he minded really. It was his job to help his superiors after all.

Today amid this new quiet Perin sat in the corner, his eyes red rimmed and puffy, making his pale hair stand out yet more. Orion was sullen as he had been since the day they had all awoken in this room and held his son like a statue.

It seemed like ages ago by now, the night of they had all been surprised, taken unaware and transported here to this strange place in Ascaroth. Cadence sighed and pulled Claire closer to his chest. He could feel her floppy rabbit ears against his hand and it soothed him. He had huddled up to her during the night for warmth and he was hardpressed to ever let her go after this. He'd already held onto Claire more than he had in his entire life.

The room itself is nothing intimidating. It's simply a run down manor that had no doubt at one time been owned by someone of great importance. It had since then hit hard times and the house showed signs of great disrepair with every glance. The room they were in was strictly dark green from the curtains to the musty bed linens. There was only one bed that they all shared and there was a writing desk in the corner they had been using to eat the food that was carried up to them three times a day. And even though the window was grungy and the blankets ragged, it was warmer than it could have been.

In all reality, Cadence could admit to himself that they had been sorely wrong about Nightingale if this was what being kidnapped by him was like. They were not killed on sight in cold blood, nor were they tortured or poorly fed or forced to slowly freeze to death. They were simply left alone in a room like they were house guests. No normal person could really complain in the face of that.

A small knock infiltrated the quiet and Cadence looked up sharply from Claire towards the door. Without checking he already knew who was behind it and he rose to answer the knock immediately. He only paused once at the small mirror beside the bed, brushing unkempt brown hair out of his blue eyes before biting his lip and opening the door. It was habit, coming from years of working as Genadiev's servant. He had been taught since he was four to look presentable at all times. He could not see himself betraying that lesson even now.

As the door opened a by now familiar person came into view.

Cadence knew little about their jail cell keeper beyond what he had dragged out of him during their meal and bathroom breaks. His name was Roan and he had been living here at the Nightingale headquarters for nearly a year now. He was an early recruit.

Roan was easily six foot with deep auburn hair and dark brown eyes that were nearly invisible beneath heavily hooded brows. He spoke very little, giving off a sense of silence that Cadence had never quite seen before. At the same time, Cadence was not intimidated by this man at all, rather fascinated, for Roan did not come off as menacing. The aura that encompassed him was gentle, something he never would have expected behind enemy lines.

The redhead walked in stoicly as always depositing three plates of steaming food on the writing desk nearby before turning to leave. Surprisingly, however, he stopped at the door beside Cadence and the boy suddenly found himself under the full weight of Roan's stare. It was perhaps one of the most intimate moments of his life and he found this strange in that he wasn't being touched at all beyond a gaze.

"You are all to be released at the outskirts of Verin tomorrow at midnight."

His voice is deep and very heavy. It had surprised Cadence the first time he had heard it and even now it seems to rattle his bones in some way. Perhaps because of how pleasing it sounds. He supposes it's rather ironic given his name that he truly likes someone depending on how lovely their voice was. He did not dwell on it though as Roan seemed to stare right through him before lifting a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear as if he touched prisoners of war every day.

"I will be behind your door tonight. There is a storm blowing in that might shatter the window...but I'll be here," Roan murmured and with one last soul stealing look he was gone. Cadence was left feeling windswept and rather like he was stepping into a world of sound after years in silence. The green room swept back around him same as the sounds of Orion speaking to his son in the corner.

Cadence could feel a strange sort of smile creep across his face.

When later that night the aforementioned storm appeared and Cadence was woken by screaming glass it was with a great sense of safety that he watched Roan barrel in and stare unblinking at the window.

It was the most amazing sight of his life, however, when Roan repaired the window with a simple concentrated look before he turned his gaze to Cadence. He understood now that the redhead was an elemental just like Nightingale. It made sense to think everyone on this side of the war was. All mistreated and all let down by the people they thought they could trust. It made Cadence's stomach turn.

Without stopping to think about it Cadence slipped out of bed, Claire sniffing and trembling in his arms until he was standing in front of Roan who towered over him like a great pillar of strength. The rain and snow that had sprayed into the room upon the window breaking was icy on his face but he couldn't seem to care as he looked up at the terribly intense watchmen, for that was indeed what he was. No jailer could look at him as Roan was looking at him now.

And amid this strange competition of gazes he felt his face warm. Blue eyes widened as suddenly the water droplets on his face seemed to vanish. Roan cocked his head to the side, lifting one very large, rough hand to Cadence's face and turning him with gentle touches this way and that as if examining his work before dropping the hand to his side once again.

Roan had evaporated the water on his face, Cadence's surprise weary mind thought. His eyes widened significantly and flitted to the repaired window, noticing for the first time that it was not quite so transparent, only semi-opaque. The window was made of ice.

Cadence turned back to the older man with wonder clearly written across his face. Roan had the capacity to use magic for good. Roan had not collapsed a village, suffocated a crowd, or destroyed homes with hail. He suddenly couldn't understand at all why the world mistrusted them so much in that moment. All he wanted to do was collapse into Roan and wish this war away. It all seemed so terrifying and unneeded right then. For both sides.

Luckily...he knew he had a small choice.

"When you take them to Verin tomorrow...I'm staying."

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2008-03-10T23:20:00

2008-03-11T04:20:59Z

Title: Just Dark Blue
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Laurie Faden © me
AN: Laurie is my original vampire character and I've missed him. This was also done in the style of Good Omens for the humor/ironic tone it suggests and because I love the book.

He was known as Laurie. Not Laurence Faden for that name had died at the same time he had, and not Blue Eyes because the only person to call him that Laurie had not seen for several years and assumed dead.

His hair was brown, longish, and not a little bit ratty, and his skin was uniformly ashen every inch. His eyes, however, were a clear and crystalline blue that could be seen across large crowded rooms and several yards away. They were pale and framed by tawny lashes that always seemed to curl more than necessary. His brows were the same dusty brown and curved up just so, making his masculine facial features pull into an expression of something near innocence or sadness that was more feminine than anything else.

'Pretty' people liked to call him but Laurie normally chose not to hear. His appearance meant little to him and considering he was invisible nearly ninety percent of the time that made a strange sort of sense. The leftover ten percent was spent on street corners and small nightclubs under seductively dark blue lights where Laurie could expose his one true gift...his voice.

As far as lyrics and things went Laurie was mediocre. He possessed no great talent with words and had no astounding head upon his shoulders. What he could boast was a soft and angelic voice and a pair of eyes that could force even the most staunch music critics to a standstill in a truly Medusa-esque fashion.

His band was thus known as Siren, the name being less of an exaggeration than the use of the word 'band' seeing as they hardly counted as one. Their was only one guitarist and he was more or less just the person putting a roof over Laurie's head. He was older with thick black rimmed glasses and more facial hair than absolutely necessary outside of Santa Clause and he swore every other word to the point he had the start stop sort of canter belonging to moths banging against windows. The man was hospitable though and his musty, corn chip smelling sofa had belonged to Laurie for almost a month now.

The drummer was an equal stranger to Laurie, a terribly small and awkwardly thin boy of about thirteen who kept tempo by muttering strange animalistic sounds under his breath and bobbing his head much like a drinking bird.

Laurie knew neither of their names. They were Foz and Gil and he was sure they'd always be. Their influence in the 'band' was strictly recreational...Laurie's was for the money.

It was rather depressing to imagine living on a stranger's sofa for all of eternity. And eternity was what Laurie would have to manage through.

At one time Laurie had simply sung and strummed guitar in public parks. He had not yet run away from home and his money was being saved for a backpacking trip through the Andes. It had been a good plan too...until his life had taken a corkscrew turn.

Or more accurately, his life had ended completely.

A tall, dark haired man who introduced himself as Cyrano walked up one gold and red tinged afternoon under Laurie's favorite maple tree and complimented him on his voice. Laurie never could remember all of what they talked about upon that first meeting. All he ever remembered were dark brown eyes with the faintest traces of red like the embers of a fire lurking beneath heavy logs.

Much about Cyrano had the same feeling, like fiery, important pieces hid behind something ugly and opaque. Cyrano was a heavy oak door where the only light filtered through the keyhole and Laurie was fascinated by the endless wondering Cyrano afforded him.

For several months Cyrano returned to the same spot where Laurie played and listened from the rusting bench nearby. Laurie supposed he had come to love the older man after so long but he'd never be for sure.

He did end up allowing Cyrano to take him out for expensive dinners and to orchestras like a sort of jeweled bauble or bracelet to show off. Cyrano often told him he was beautiful but Laurie never seemed to really see meaning in the compliments.

Eventually Cyrano seduced him and Laurie happily went along. He was used to the teenaged girls he had lost his virginity to. An older man was something new altogether but the strange apathy Laurie had always possessed caused only a shrug at the new experience. The care he held for Cyrano however made the experiment much more personal and so when Laurie woke the next morning with pain so intense beneath his skin he wished to bleed himself dry...Laurie was not so surrpised.

Being dead...a vampire...was nothing Laurie had counted on happening. He supposed no one really did count on something to that effect considering they were thought unreal, but even then Laurie could not muster more of a reaction beyond vague disappointment and something like anger beneath his great affection for Cyrano.

Yet more months trudged on and Cyrano slowly taught Laurie how to use his powers...how to persuade people with his otherworldly voice, to manipulate shadows, to disappear from sight.

Until one day Cyrano wasn't there. In the body indent among the bedclothes was a simple letter detailing a past crime Cyrano had commited against a vampire clan some hours away in another city. Laurie read the letter with dry eyes and stowed the brittle paper away in his guitar case where no one could find it.

Now Laurie is thirty...twelve of those years after his embrace. He still has no clue how to use any of the powers given to him at his rebirth and he seems to cause chaos at every turn whether by accidentally shrowding an entire restaurant in thick, black shadow or by swaying nearly half the members of a nightclub into dancing all night without stopping...there could be no doubt that Laurie had no clue what he was doing.

Worse still, he couldn't muster the emotion to care or even bat an eye at the trouble for long enough to prevent it. So he sang on streetcorners and stared out of rain fogged windows and didn't really think much.

Thinking didn't fix problems.

AN- Laurie has a form of depression that I've not yet found the name for. Apologies. He cannot force his mind or body into reacting to situations. Just in case you thought him retarded ;]

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2008-02-16T01:36:00

2008-02-16T07:36:32Z

Title: Rich Kid Blues
Fandom: Original-Bully crossover
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucky Genevra © me and Sakejét Yvan-Lacun © paper_inc
AN: Finally finished this monster <3 Yay for Bullyomg. This is solely written for Jessica though. I love her even more than Bully.

Happy Volts Mental Institution was not one of Lucky's favorite places in the world. And considering he'd practically been raised behind the metal doors he finds that rather surprising. The entire place is a near blinding blue color and each room is like a prison cell.

The institute itself is far away from everything else and Lucky had no social interaction beyond his orderlies for the better part of three years of his life.

He was finally released from that awful place when he was sixteen years old and was put into Bullworth Academy the next day. For the next month Lucky's life was hell as he tried to figure out the ins and outs of actual reality as well as childish, teenage cliques.

After some rather trial and error mishaps with the bullies and a torrid affair with Gary Smith Lucky had finally found solace among the greasers. It had been quite the discovery indeed that his hands could do more than just write words and bring pleasure...they could also make a sleek machine run better.

Upon finding this out he had spent sleepless nights in the garage, ducking and hiding from patrolling prefects and working on bike after bike, graduating to things with engines until even Johnny perked up and took notice.

It was...a bizarre dream come true...having this sort of happiness. He had something to ease his mind, direction if you will. He had friends. He did not have a plastic bracelet with his headcase written on it.

Instead of staring at snow on the broken television in the very blue commons at Happy Volts his days were spent skipping classes and working on motorcycles and cars in the garage alongside Johnny and Peanut. They had even restored the classiest 1970 AMC Javelin SST that Lucky had ever seen all within one school week. It had been given the name Celeste and it sat slowly aging away in the garage until someone could steal her away to drive free in Bullworth.

Luckily for him, his eyes were not for Celeste, but rather for Pheobe his meticulously cared for motorcycle that he did not, in fact, have a license to drive. He drove it anyway with great pride. It had been the first engine he ever touched at Bullworth and it held great value to him.

All of it really, the friends, the hobby, the lack of an asylum cell...made life so much better and Lucky was thankful for it everyday.

The sex wasn't bad either. Unlike at Happy Volts where he only had his orderly that complained of losing his job, Bullworth was full of interesting people with low standards. He was rumored to be the only person in all of Bullworth to ever score a threesome with Johnny and Lola. He is, to this day, legend for it.

And thus October finds him meandering around Bullworth looking for something to do. Pheobe was carefully parked and hidden away in the skate park in New Coventry where it couldn't be vandalized and now he simply walked around the streets.

He was, technically, truant at the moment, but that hardly ever stopped any of the students. Classes were so worthless that the only ones Lucky ever even stayed at school for were Shop and occasionally English.

He had just finished watching a rather atrocious movie at the theater before he found himself meandering his way all the way to the dock and he took a seat on the wooden bench overlooking the very grey lake of Bullworth.

Birds pecked about near his feet and several adults milled around looking as if they had no purpose. Lucky did not much care one way or the other. He had brought a long a book with him and so he settled in for a long read, ignoring the crisp breeze blowing his hair away from his face.

It wasn't until he felt a presence sit near him that he even resurfaced, and even then it had been a solid hour. Curiously, Lucky looked up from the pages of his novel to see a small and delicate looking blond boy next to him.

The boy was vaguely familiar and Lucky can't help but stare at him soundlessly for a long moment. He's almost positive the boy goes to his school but since neither of them are wearing their uniforms he has no way to know which clique he might be from. He looks far too frail to be a jock and he's not a greaser. But that still leaves so many to choose from.

Pale brown eyes turn and catch onto his, pale brows rising in question as to why he's being stared at. The boy is either too polite to say something cutting or is simply waiting a moment for dramatic reasons. Lucky doesn't feel like waiting to find out.

"It's not everyday someone so easy on the eyes joins me on the dock. To what, may I ask, do I owe this extreme pleasure?"

The words slip out of his mouth like honey and he distantly wonders why he is always getting himself into situations like this. Granted, all the smooth talking and compliments won over people like Lola and Trent...but sometimes people simply became offended. And he certainly doesn't wish to offend Sakey.

But when the boy gives him a quizzical look and smiles, he feels like maybe he's not screwed up yet.

"I'm only resting," the blond said on a light voice that Lucky immediately likes. The boy lifts a hand and runs it through his thick hair before pushing his glasses further up his nose in an extremely cultured way. The boy, he thinks, must be a nerd...just an insanely pretty one.

None of the greasers would fault him for liking the boy. "Resting?" Lucky asks, smirking and stretching an arm out along the bench, letting it slide behind Sakey's back innocuously. "Why ever for? Running through my dreams too much last night?"

Sakey actually laughs at him and shakes his head, stretching his slender legs out in front of him in a stretch. "I do believe we've only just met. That would make questionable dreams rather difficult," the boy says in a teasing manner, all flashing perfectly white teeth and thin fingers in his lap before sobering back up as if remembering himself. "I was buying things for school."

It is simple and Lucky rather wants to know what anyone could possibly need for -school-, but if the boy really is a nerd then he probably does all sorts of strange school related things that don't make sense.

Unfortunately he does not have long to ponder this as the boy is moving to stand, picking up bags from the yum yum market and mostly, unsurprisingly, from the Cosmic Dragon and is moving away.

The blond stops before he gets too far though, turning and looking rather picturesque among all the grey and dying leaves, his hair blowing in the wind. "It was nice meeting you."

Lucky grins boyishly and watches the boy's retreating back for some time before finally turning back around, staring out at the lake with a rather bemused expression, snorting to himself at the conversation. He suddenly felt like joining academia...if only to ensnare -that- particular nerd.

He picked up his book and headed back over to New Coventry, intent to get Pheobe and go back to school. He'd figure out some way to seduce the blond before the evening was over.

-------------

It had been the stupidest thing ever.

Johnny was yet again being paranoid (rightfully so) over Lola's fidelity and before he had even realized what was happening, Lucky was being dragged to the Harrington House with the rest of the greasers. He'd only gotten a very vague explanation after pestering Peanut. Something along the lines of Derby hitting on Lola in class.

Lucky personally thought this entire thing was ridiculous, though he'd never say as much to his best friend Johnny. Lola obviously was quite easy...but even more importantly, Derby was as gay as disco and obviously sleeping with Bif. If he was to do a girl it'd be Pinky...and well, she was his cousin.

Suffice to say, as he found himself leaning rather lazily against one of the columns in the entry way to the building he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

This was stupidly pointless.

In front of their large, leather clad group, the door to Harrington House opened and several figures in blue Aquaberry appeared, filing one after the other and forming a rather aesthetic little triangle in front of the far from beautiful greaser party.

Lucky is slowly picking himself up from his leaning when the last figure joins the rest, following shortly after Alaric Klein.

The blond boy from Bullworth.

Lucky just about nearly looses his balance and falls. He catches his equilibrium just in time and simply stares and stares, completely blotting out the angry yelling match going on between Johnny and Derby in the middle.

The blond is a -prep- his aching mind moans. Why would he want someone so badly that is that taboo. Of all the cliques.

The verbal fight tossed back and forth over and over and all Lucky can do is stare quietly from his position at the back of the greaser clique, cocking his head to the side and keeping his face a blank slate. The blond notices him soon enough and looks surprised just like he had been and has started staring right back.

By the time a pissed off "Lucky, let's go," filters into his world Lucky has been staring the boy straight in the eye for nearly a full five minutes.

He jerks out of his comatose state and simply nods jerkily, tossing a final glance before following. He has no clue who has just won or why. He does not even know what time it is. All he knows is that he's terribly upset that his next conquest was suddenly so difficult.

----------------

The next couple of days Lucky was a man on a mission. He woke up on Monday morning and broke into every class he had, stealing the daily roster and checking them each for one particular name. It came up missing on every one except for English.

That day...Lucky made a point to actually go to his English class.

As usual he found himself in the room surrounded by idiots throwing paper airplanes and girls painting their nails while the teacher stood uselessly at the front of the room and tried to teach...except today he was too drunk to even stand and so muttered stupidly at his desk about Shakespeare.

Fucking awful academics.

But when he noticed a shock of blond hair in the back Lucky nearly died of heart failure in his hurry to grab the next right behind his, tapping the finely dressed, thin shoulder in front of him until Sakey finally turned around.

Brown eyes widened in recognition but nothing more was forthcoming. Blank as a sheet of paper.

"I never caught your name the other day," Lucky says as simply as possible, trying to keep any sort of hostility or lingering emotion in his voice because dammit, just looking at him made him weak.

The blond didn't seem to understand words for a moment before he opened his mouth and extended a hand to be shaken. "I'm Sakejét Yvan-Lacun. And you're Lucky Genevra. Derby told me about you last night. If you'll excuse me, I have some math homework I need to finish."

After he had shaken Lucky's hand he had almost instantly spun back around in his seat and Lucky scowled fiercely at the perfectly poised politeness that was so fake it gnawed at him. He sat still and quiet for only a moment before he growled and suddenly burst into movement, jumping into the seat in front of Sakey instead of behind him and dipping his head to look up into Sakey's concentrated face.

"It's common knowledge that Alaric Klein does your math for you. I don't blame you either. I hate the subject," Lucky muttered, trying so desperately hard to get Sakey's attention when he obviously didn't want to give it. Dammit, it wasn't right that their newly dawning relationship should be called quits so early just because of social status.

So instead of stay angry he turns on as much human decency as he can possibly muster and talks to Sakey on a smoky voice. "I actually ask Peanut to do mine for me. Which is all fine because I do his English. Most guys here are awful at it...so they appreciate the help. It's not everyday they meet a guy who can read The Count of Monte Cristo in French y'know? It's fair. I'll bet Klein thinks of it that way too."

Brown eyes suddenly widen in front of him and Lucky spares a moment to trying to figure out what's wrong when suddenly Sakey is sitting up straighter and saying a very excited, "you speak French?" to him in said tongue.

Lucky finds himself equally taken aback and replies in kind. "Yes, I taught myself several years ago. It's fantastic to find someone else who can. When did you learn?"

The excitement suddenly bursting around the two of them could possibly light a whole third world country and he's surprised no one else in the room has broken their bubble of nerdish delight. Lucky wonders briefly how they had gone from hostile to suddenly staring at each other in awe so quickly.

"I was born in France," Sakey said slowly, but it was obvious he was bubbling with glee just under the surface and something about that fact really lit into Lucky's stomach. He wanted to see all that exuberance untied. "My father was English and my mother was French."

Only just then can Lucky realize that Sakey had had a slight, undercurrent of a French accent when he had spoken to him that day on the dock and it makes him want to throw Sakey down on the floor and do questionable things to him while the blond hisses French expletives in his ears.

Unfortunately he contains himself, seeing as he's trying to win him over for more than that. Surprisingly.

"That is amazing. I'm born and raised here so I am terribly jealous. So is just French you speak?"

When Sakey rattles off nearly twelve languages in response to his question Lucky decides he has died and gone to nerd heaven, sitting up further in his chair and spitting out an equally impressive list of languages. By now they should be garnering a crowd but Lucky has not noticed at all, instead leaning forward to speak to Sakey in Japanese to keep the prep out of vicious gossip circles thanks to what is obviously a fast budding friendship.

"I have never met a multi-lingual. That is fucking crazy. I've actually got a really amazing Russian copy of The Awakening if you'd like to borrow it. It's a fast read, even for Russian y'know?"

As Sakey wiggled in his chair and proceeded to laud him with a shower of love for literature as well as language...well, Lucky had surpassed friendship and dived head long into complete infatuation.

By the time the bell signaling the end of class rang Lucky found himself staring at Sakey and vice versa in something like adoring awe, the crowd they had accumulated looking on in utter confusion before shrugging and leaving the room.

"You should go out with me this weekend. I could bring a book and start teaching you Greek. I've got a place we could look at it in town," Lucky said as he stood to leave, black hair falling wildly in his face as he grinned at Sakey fully, nothing hidden at all in his face.

But when Sakey bit his lip and his brows rose in concern the bouyancy seemed to deflate within him. "I'd love to...really, but I can't do that. I can't do that to Derby and I most certainly can't do that to Alaric. He'd be so angry with me and I can't deal with that right now," he murmured, placing a hand on Lucky's arm before sidestepping him and leaving the room.

Lucky allows himself to feel as if maybe this is what being rejected feels like. He promises he won't do this to anyone else anymore because it feels truly awful.

He wants to follow Sakey and grab him by the arm, plead with him to reconsider but he's never crawled on hands and knees for anyone. Even Sakey, he tells himself resolutely. Gathering up the book he had taken in with him, Lucky heads out of the school and just as he's taking the stairs down two at a time he is struck with sudden inspiration.

From his little research earlier he knows that Sakey has art right now and so he decisively heads to Harrington House with a plan in mind.

------------------

Gord Vendome was an alright guy in Lucky's books.

He was one of the better looking people in Bullworth Academy and he had a certain masculine charm to his walk that Lucky rather liked. He had an unattractive face but a thoroughly attractive body thanks to his boxing.

And best of all, Gord was easy.

Lucky had had Gord on several occasions. He was funny in his own peculiar way, always smelled nice, and was always up for a tumble in the sack, something Lucky found refreshing. He'd go so far as to say that Gord was much more spectacular in bed than Johnny and that is why Lola cheated so quickly...not that he wanted to give Lola excuses because she really -was- quite a whore.

But he could understand being so sidetracked if it was Gord in question.

However, none of that really mattered anymore because as Lucky woke up next to Gord and checked his watch to see it was ten in the evening he felt a surge of victory that had nothing to do with the naked boy lying next to him.

Lucky eased his way out of Gord's bed and threw his clothes back on before he wandered out of the dorm and meandered about looking for something in particular. More specifically, a particular person.

He padded up the stone stairs of Harrington House until he hit the large balcony and nearly fell over at his luck when Sakey came into view.

Sakey looked almost ridiculously attractive right at that moment, wearing nothing more than a thin white t-shirt and a pair of black, cotton boxers, smoking a cigarette in a painfully sexual way despite thinking himself totally alone.

Lucky wanted nothing more than to breeze over and pin him to the stone railing and ravish any thoughts of cliques straight out of his mind. Instead, Lucky opted for a more patient option and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket before approaching.

Sakey did not jump at his intrusion, simply eyed him intensely for a long moment before very shortly handing Lucky his lighter without even being asked to. Lucky took the gesture well and nodded his thanks before lighting up, loving the way Sakey's hair blazed golden against the firelight.

"Why are you here?" Sakey asked calmly, blowing a smoke ring sexily befor turning anemic brown eyes to Lucky.

For a moment his entire purpose seemed to have escaped him as Lucky instead stared with quite guiltless, rapt attention. He for one had no qualms with appreciating beautiful things when they were presented to him. Right then was no different and so he looked his fill before turning an taking a long drag from his own cigarette, slightly mournful that his smoking was nothing aesthetic at all.

As he exhaled the acrid smoke he sighed and turned a Chesire smile in Sakey's direction. "Would it sound terribly childish to say I'm here to ask you on a date?"

Pale brown eyes, practically dark blue in the dark narrowed at the suggestion and Sakey somehow managed to make taking a drag look just like a curious question. He exhaled up towards the stars before leaning one elbow onto the balcony.

"You know I can't do that."

It was simple, to the point, and Lucky frowned almost instantly because of it, tossing his cigarette out over the balcony carelessly before sliding closer, mirroring the other boy's pose. "I'm not asking what you can or can't do. I'm asking what you'd -like- to do."

Lucky almost smiles as a flash of something indescribable passes over his much adored pair of eyes. That little something meant he had at least caught Sakey's interest and that his loyalties were waivering, no matter how steadfast he had claimed them to be.

It was an opportunity Lucky could not pass up.

"Come on...just tonight. The trust fund babies won't even notice you're gone."

Sakey is shaking his head and tossing his cigarette away with a dainty, soft move that makes Lucky jealous before he is backing away towards the glass doors. Lucky can feel his brows knitting together as he pushes away from the stone railing with a shove and walks quickly after him.

"Look...come on...when I first met you I had no clue. I had no idea you were a prep, and I'm asking you as a human being to come out with me." He's pleading and he realizes it a little to late. It should come as much more a surprise than it is that he is stooping so low for a boy he barely knows. A couple of languages shouldn't shake him up so badly.

But as Sakey sighs and pushes a hand through his hair Lucky watches it catch in the almost too bright moonlight and he decides that the world and common sense can go fuck themselves.

"Lucky...Alaric would throw a fit and I don't have the time or the energy for that right now."

A real rebuff. Lucky is stunned and he steps forward, covering the large distance between them with one overlong stride, grabbing hold of Sakey's wrist gently and causing him to stop and turn to look in his direction once more.

"I have a motorcycle."

Sakey's head tilts to the side as he measures Lucky with his eyes and he prays inwardly that he's adding up something positive and subtracting his faults. At long last an almost clinical nod leaves the blond and Lucky's frown melts right into a grateful smirk as he pulls the blond down to the garage with insistent tugs, not once letting go of his hand.

By the time they get there Sakey is sighing and rolling his eyes in an aggrieved way, casting out an acerbic "Greasers and they're bikes honestly", but as Lucky pulls the dirty tarp off of his motorcycle he knows he has Sakey's attention. "Her name is Pheobe."

She is quite lovely indeed, all sleek, polished black and winking chrome. He has never taken care of something more than he has taken care of Pheobe and it shows ridiculously.

Without further ado Lucky swings one long leg over the bike and nods his head over his back towards the small amount of seat left. "Hop on beautiful, regret it later."

The words seemed to do the trick as Sakey hesitated only a moment before gingerly climbing onto the back, jumping as Lucky jumpstarted the engine and caused the loud primary roar to fill the garage. The sound is always overloud inside the metal walls and as Lucky steers them outside and out of the bus parking lot the sound dies down, lost in the wind rushing past them both, ruffling their clothes.

Lucky steers with confidence, secretly feeling terribly accomplished as Sakey's tiny hands wrap around his waist to stay onboard, squeezing tighter around corners. He's had girls that would crush his lungs like this but Sakey seemed unafraid, simply careful and that made Lucky feel terribly amazing as he roars to a stop at the town center, flicking off the headlights.

The library looms up ahead and as Lucky moves to a stand beside the bike he holds out his hand to Sakey. "Come on," he soothes, pulling him yet more gently along so as not to scare him away. "I'll show you some of the best scenery in all of Bullworth."

Sakey seems to hesitate for a long moment as if going over his reasons for coming with him in the first place until at last the cool sensation of the boy's hand slipping into his own broke into his conscious. Lucky smirked and gave a solid tug, pulling so that Sakey would stumble ever so slightly and catch himself against his chest.

"Please, I implore you, stop thinking."

When the blond opens his mouth to say something cutting in response Lucky is no longer even looking at him, instead moving swiftly towards the looming building up ahead with not so much as a glance at Sakey. He is on a mission of sorts and he cannot allow silly words to come between them and what he hopes to achieve.

Lucky guides them to the side of the building where a very unstable looking ladder stands leaning against the wall of the building as if helping it stay upright. His first time ever climbing the thing had terrified him greatly but he had done it anyway, his curiosity winning over even the fear of a broken collarbone.

It had stayed, not so much as wobbled. And wobble it did not as Lucky began to climb up it steadily, looking down every so often to make sure Sakey was following him. At first, the older boy had not, simply gave a loud protest and scoffed at the very idea, but as Lucky only kept going he apparently decided his words were unimportant and began to climb as well.

By the time Lucky reached the top of the terrace and meandered over to the second ladder he was beginning to feel giddy. There was some sort of rush about being so high up...surrounding by nothing but -space-.

Perhaps it had to do with always being in his two by four little cell at Happy Volts...maybe it was the adrenaline, but feeling the cold night air rush across his face and lift his hair as he began the second ascent he couldn't shake the feeling of excitement that waved through him. There was a strange sort of freedom when one was here.

Sharing that with Sakey was a rush all on it's own.

A quick glance down showed Sakey was still right behind him faithfully and with no verbal complaint and so when he finally began climbing the third and final ladder to the top of the building Lucky felt quite accomplished indeed.

Even at night the view of the city was breathtaking. Every corner was bathed in a cerulean glow thanks to the street lamps and even at this hour a few citizens and rebellious teens were roaming about. Lucky's breath plumed before him and a small flock of birds flew above his head in uniform perfection, casting ghostly shadows over the stone of the building and the groun even further down below where everything looked miniature and fake like children's toys.

The sound of a small gasp nearby made Lucky finally tear his gaze away and he was surprised to see Sakey standing right next to him, staring out over the landscape with an expression that looked very much like how he felt. It was good to see.

A moment passed in silence where Lucky stared at Sakey and Sakey stared at the town before the dark haired boy came back to life, shrugging out of his leather jacket and cautiously reaching over to rest it on Sakey's shoulders.

The pale brown eyes, near blue in the dark, jumped away at once upon feeling Lucky's hands on him and looked at said boy with a small amount of surprise and confusion.

"It's freezing," Lucky clarified with a carefully neutral expression, slowly taking his hands back with great mental effort. "And you're wearing shorts."

Underwear to be exact and it's like Lucky is only just now noticing such things. His adventure has come to a climax, he had somehow managed to ensnare Sakey long enough to take him here, show him the beauty that was his spot...and now he's only focused on how -gorgeous- Sakey is...has been really.

It kills him...this want to touch, and take, and share. Instead he's doomed to simply look.

Sakey is still looking at him however and very slowly a smile slides across his face, lazy and rolling like honey. "Well thank you. I appreciate it."

It is is a pristine expression of gratitude and Lucky can only find the will to nod in response, not willing to say anything in case it is less than perfect. Instead he moves to the graffiti covered wall and slides down it to sit on the cold stone, too long legs bending and stretching out in front of him, looking almost too elongated even for him.

When tiny Sakey moves to sit right beside him, his shorter legs next to his own, the effect is only doubled and Lucky can't keep the small scowl off of his face. Despite it though, he feels happy, heartened by Sakey's metaphorical hand in friendship by the movement.

Lucky does not even bother thinking as he scoots over and links an arm around Sakey's shoulders, feeling too sharp bones and the smooth leather of his own jacket against his fingers. Underneath it is another person's warmth, Sakey's to be exact, and he finds it perfectly fitting right where it is.

Silence enters their world and Lucky spends it staring out at the lovely scenery that he had discovered.

After another ten minutes or so it is Sakey who is the one to start up conversation, talking about English class and French literature. Lucky jumped into the conversation with enthusiasm and for the next hour and a half they did nothing but talk about books.

Strangely enough Sakey never moved Lucky's arm. In his defense Lucky was not letting in wander the way he normally did, simply letting it rest companionably on his shoulder, occasionally letting his thumb brush against the blond's neck but no more intimate than that.

Eventually though Lucky could seen the faint blue glow starting to hint at the horizon and he sighed, knowing they would have to leave soon. Lucky did not want to return to reality where there were cliques and rules and barriers.

Without even bothering to think about it Lucky lifted the hand on Sakey's shoulder and let his fingers rest against jaw, turning the boy until he was facing him and slowly brushed his lips against Sakey's.

Instantly the boy's smaller frame tensed beside him but Lucky did not retreat, not this time and not ever, he mentally thought. He kept the kiss terribly slow and hazy, matching the dawn in its speed and he could feel Sakey relax.

Even better, he began to kiss him back, no amount of hesitancy present at all, and that's perhaps what shocked Lucky most. There was no second-guessing in Sakey's movements, no doubt. And when Lucky finally pulled away Sakey's face was the picture of calm.

So calm Lucky could not read his expression at all. Sakey gave the tiniest of smiles and Lucky's lips twitched but couldn't seem to pick a face to settle on, making him simply look uncomfortable. Instead he heaved himself off the stone and held out a hand to Sakey, pulling the blond flush against his body once on his feet.

Sakey was pliant but not initiating and Lucky figured he shouldn't have expected more, but not being rejected was lovely and so he leaned down and kissed him again, unable to truly get enough. When thin, chilled fingers came to rest against his cheek and Sakey rose on his toes to kiss him back with more interest than earlier Lucky felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

They climbed down in silence, as was the ride back to school quiet. Lucky pushed Pheobe back into the garage and covered her again before sliding his arm around Sakey's waist and beginning to walk back towards Harrington House.

For such long legs he was walking excruciatingly slow and by the time he pulled up to the wall furthest away from the doors so that no early wandering preps would see them the sky was already a glorious pink color.

Sakey is looking around at a loss and Lucky wants so badly to know what he's thinking right now. He doesn't look eager to leave or to stay, nor does he look uncomfortable or out of sorts, but -something- is off about him and Lucky would kill to know what that is.

Instead he gently pushes Sakey until his back touches the dirty wall and rests his forehead against the much shorter boys. He's not sure where he's going to go once he leaves Sakey. His dorm room sounds too awful as does going to class. He'll no doubt hide out in the attic of the girl's dorm or head to New Coventry.

But right now he's with Sakey and in no way in a hurry.

Sakey makes a face and is looking at the wall beside them. Lucky makes a face right back and follows his gaze to see poorly written graffiti spelling out "Trust Fund Babies" on the wall. It causes Lucky to snort loudly in hilarity while Sakey only rolled his eyes.

"Y'know I find this all rather insulting," Sakey muttered, turning to the greaser. Lucky could tell by the handwriting that it had been Lucky number two who had written this particular message. The greasers were always the one to write the disparaging messages about preps.

And Sakey was standing there with a greaser wrapped all around him and Lucky could understand his miffed expression now and only smirked as he leaned down to brush his over large nose against Sakey's tinier, upturned one, simply breathing warmly and letting Sakey know he was not deterred at all.

"Forget who you are for five seconds," he whispered hotly, feeling the slow crawl of Sakey's hands against his chest slide to his neck.

A whispered "okay" is breathed into his mouth and it is all the clearance Lucky needs as he leans down and captures Sakey's lips into a spiraling kiss.

Bullworth had always been the one place Lucky felt happy after leaving Happy Volts. He didn't understand cliques and he didn't understand relationships...but he wanted Sakey. He'd escaped from insanity and he felt maybe he was ready to jump into an all new kind.

When he pulled away and slowly disentangled himself, watching Sakey walk slowly back to his dorm he couldn't help but let his eyes flash up to Alaric's window, almost disheartened when he didn't seen the boy looking outside at their display.

Lucky snorted to himself and flipped the bird to the blank window before turning to walk away. He had a breathless 'okay' that no one else ever would have.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2008-02-16T00:55:00

2008-02-16T06:55:30Z

Title: Hot, Sticky, and Sweet
Fandom: Original
Rating: NC-17, because the internet is for porn.
Characters: Lucky Genevra © me, Alaric Klein © paper_inc
AN: Happy Valentine's Day. Warning for maybe ooc Alaric.

Pour some sugar on me
Ooh, in the name of love
Pour some sugar on me
C'mon fire me up
Pour your sugar on me
Oh, I can't get enough

When the two men he lived with were busy at work Lucky found that he ate more. Not that he didn't eat stupidly copious amounts already but he found himself so bored without them in the house that he had nothing better to do.

It was never really fun toiling away in the kitchen at odd hours. Mostly because Alaric was the unestablished king of the food making and lots of times beat off Lucky with a stick in order to keep his fumbling hands away from the stove. But when he was not around Lucky was forced to fend for himself and went through many a hot pocket and sandwich.

Today was shaping up to be one of those days as Lucky swayed in front of the fridge wearing nothing but the pair of boxer shorts he had slept in that night. It would seem some grocery shopping was in order (especially seeing as his chocolate chip poptarts were now missing). There was, however, a single roll of cinnamon roll dough on the bottom shelf, the much more expensive brand than Lucky was used to but he was sure it was just as sticky sweet as he liked them.

That in mind he trayed the dough, getting rather grumpy and scowly as it stuck to his fingers and wouldn't let go when he shook them. By the time he finally shoved the cookie sheet into the oven and turned the dial he was glowering quite acidically at the oven and leaning in a hostile fashion against the counter. His green eyes stared unwaveringly at the timer for lack of anything better to do.

When a sound broke his oven hating silence though, Lucky found himself jumping quite comically indeed. In the doorway stood a perfectly composed Alaric Klein dressed in a similar state as Lucky...meaning only a pair of shorts and ever so slightly sleep ruffled hair. His response left him before he could even think of how dumb it was.

"You slept here?"

One finely shaped eyebrow lifted in baleful response before Alaric shuffled over and glanced into the oven, the expression on his face almost hinting at a fear the food inside was burnt. Seeing it was in fact, cooking away as it needed to be he closed the door again and mirrored Lucky's position beside him.

"No, I slept at work and wore my underthings during the ride home. People sure do kick up a fuss when you're indecent. If I were to ever stoop so low as prostitution I'd make yet more millions."

Lucky snorted and rolled pale green eyes. After a moment of smirking vaguely at the oven he swiveled around so that he was facing Alaric, his hip tucked neatly against the counter top. "You're a fucking smartass," he said almost sweetly, dropping his gaze and fiddling with the packet of pastelike syrup that came with the cinnamon rolls. He had opened the top of it earlier and a tiny jeweled drop fell onto the pad of his finger and licked it off without great care.

Alaric did not say anything to the name calling, only yawned prettily and stared at the ceiling. "Sakey and I had been talking about taking some time off work so I convinced him to leave early last night. You were already asleep. Missed out I must say."

Figures he missed on sex last night because his boredom had led to cataconia. He bet Sakey wanted to sleep last night too. Sometimes Lucky wanted to shake Alaric and whine to him. Unfortunately today would involve no shaking as he was simply feeling far too amused but he figured some good-natured whining wouldn't go amiss.

Feeling terribly awesome he swiped some more of the syrup on his finger and sidled over, overjoyed when Alaric didn't look in his direction. Lucky smirked broadly and dragged the sugar sticky finger down the other man's neck with childish enthusiasm.

"You're a brat," he said simply, head cocking to the side in a triumphant way.

Alaric was of course suitably appalled and just as he was about to open his mouth Lucky leaned over and licked away the white, sugary streak in a rather sloppy manner, pulling away with a shit eating grin.

Alaric opened his mouth once again to say something and Lucky could only roll his eyes. Without further antagonization he brought his broad hand up to Alaric's neck and tugged him forward, planting an almost boyish kiss on his lips, all lazy, morning enthusiasm and messiness. It was the sort of kiss that Alaric would never quite find Lucky's appreciation for but he didn't really give a damn seeing as the other man was silent now.

His hands were doing the talking instead, sliding up his shoulders to rest on his neck and slide into his hair. Even his touch felt refined and expensive and Lucky felt all sorts of different as he presses roughly against him, no doubt hurting his back as it presses into the countertop.

Alaric is terribly sleep warmed and yeilding under his hands, no doubt still half-asleep physically if the loose grip of his fingers is any indication and it's a lovely feeling, this lazy enthusiasm. Lucky's hips press into Alaric's in a mellow fashion, luxuriating and sliding with no real aim as his tongue slid companionably along the other man's.

As an afterthought, Lucky pulls away from Alaric's expensive lips and mouths hotly at his neck instead, opening his eyes and looking around until he zeroed in on the syrup sitting innocuously
nearby. He smirked against the hollow of Alaric's neck and reached over for it, getting quite a bit on his spindly fingers.

He feels fascinated as he drags the substance along Alaric's collarbone, eyes fixated on his skin before dipping down and licking it off in long, slow swipes of the tongue, beginning to feel something close to a buzz, whether because of Alaric's quickened breathing under his lips or the sugar rush he can't tell.

Whatever the reason for it, it thrills Lucky and he hauls Alaric up by the waist until he is seated on the lower countertop made for cutting. Alaric wastes no time in pulling Lucky's face back to his and reinitatiating the kiss that Lucky so callously had cut off earlier. Now the thick taste of sugar is heavy on his tongue and he's sure Alaric can taste it easily as his tongue slips almost cockily into his mouth.

Perfectly manicured hands trail down his back and within the span of a second his boxers are pooled on the floor. Lucky grinned into the kiss and hurriedly went about divesting Alaric's as well, all puppy like enthusiasm and over excited kissing as he pushes the older man back.

Lucky's fingers find their old friend the icing and trail it down Alaric's stomach, watching as it sucks in on contact before trailing his mouth along the sticky trail, giddy that it is a million times easier to make out Alaric's quickened breaths this way.

He doesn't dwell on the sensation long before trailing a syrup covered finger along the length of Alaric, eyes watching Alaric's face instead of his hand for once and delighting in the way his lashes flutter closed for a luxurious moment before flashing back open to look at him.

Lucky sends him an embarrassingly flirtacious wink of sorts before ducking down and taking him into his mouth, his tongue swirling along the icing made hot and different tasting and so much better as Alaric's fingers tightened ever so slightly in his hair...but never enough to suggest a loss of control. It wouldn't be Alaric if he had.

When he pulled away his eyes were already dashing around in search of lubricant and knowing already none was around. He very sneakily opened the cabinet beneath them, unearthing cooking oil and blindly leaned up to kiss Alaric senseless so he didn't for a moment notice what he was using.

He was sure the other man would throw a fit and right about now he was not risking it. Lucky himself tried not to think about it because he rather liked being clean. But as he entered Alaric with one clean, almost aesthetic thrust he was not thinking of anything but how wonderful it was and how sweet the skin of Alaric's neck was thanks to the icing that had been there earlier.

The heady smell of baked cinnamon rolls is wafting around his head along with the spice of Alaric's cologne and soap making his world condense into something sweet and dizzy as he lazy rolled his hips into Alaric's, feeling bony heels dig into his lower back.

Lucky did not bar the small groans of appreciation at all this morning, deciding there was no reason when it felt so sumptuous. Alaric cursed low and quiet into his ear, his back arching and his head falling back, allowing his glossy hair to spill over the countertop. He was beautiful as he well knew and Lucky tasted every opportunity allowed him between gasps.

His stomach began to tighten among all the sweet movements and sounds and Lucky instantly dropped a hand to Alaric's lap and squeezed with saccharine care, biting and licking at Alaric's shoulder the whole time. Their movements began to speed up from their slow abandon of earlier and Lucky could feel the muggy dampness of sweat along his back, could taste it under the syrup sweetness, salty and strange.

Alaric's hips slammed up from the counter with quite a bit more strength than before and Lucky gasped loudly, pushing down with equal force and feeling the tightly wound chord of desire in his stomach unwind with startling intensity given the almost gentle pace he'd set.

The warm wetness between their tightly pressed body made him aware Alaric had followed along with him and Lucky actually grinned dopily as he rested his forehead down on Alaric's collarbone, steadying out his breathing. It took a shorter time than usual considering they had not been releasing any sort of pent up sexual energy at all this time.

Within a couple more moments the beeper signaling the end of cooking his cinnamon rolls sounded quietly and Lucky perked up almost comically, gently pulling out of Alaric and pulling him up by one listless hand.

Alaric did not look too thoroughly impressed at being ignored over breakfast but Lucky happily toiled away, taking the sheet out of the oven completely starkers and putting the tiny bit of icing left on top of them sparingly.

His companion sauntered up behind him to speak into his ear. Alaric's voice was deceptively soft, as was the hand on his lower back, but Lucky caught the sardonic undercurrent.

"What in the -hell- did you use for lubricant, Lucky?" Alaric asked sweetly, his breath warm against Lucky's ear and all too distracting.

Lucky had the grace to look sheepish and he cleared his throat embarrassedly while scooping cinnamon rolls onto a plate. "Well, I'm hungry. I'm going to go see if Sakey wants any." His voice was practically cheerful and he turned around smoothly, kissing Alaric long and hard before pulling away long enough to give his ear a playful lick and run away from the kitchen. He did spare Alaric enough to yell over his shoulder as he went.

"You might want a shower!"

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2007-12-06T23:56:00

2007-12-07T06:01:31Z

Title: Violet Rendezvous
Fandom: Original - Abaddon
Rating: PG
Characters: Dr. Adrian Sterling and Seth Ingram (Nightingale)
AN: It's about damned time I wrote something for them since I obsess over them.

"Seth!"

Sterling's voice boomed in the snowy quiet, bouncing off of dirty white and coming to ring in his ears as if to accentuate the fact that he was very much alone. His severe mouth thinned yet more and dowturned into a frown as he trudged on, only his breathing and the thick crunch of packed snow beneath his boots making noise.

The forest around him is dark and rather gnarled in appearance, large gaps among the foliage allowing ample moonlight to flood across the snow. The static glow also lit up the leaves, a deep purple in color so that the world almost feels surreal, all violet and white and black with him right in the middle of it all.

A few feet later he stopped and cupped his hands at his mouth again to call out. "Seth! Show yourself! Father is not angry with you!"

The words were of course code. Seth's father had not been seen since he was about seven and Sterling had never met the bastard to begin with. But desperate times called these days and things like special codes to announce one's presence became necessary.

A rustle sounded from nearby and Sterling turned on his heel abruptly to see a figure depart from the shadows. He could not help but smile warmly in greeting.

Seth looked just as untouched as the last time he saw him. His dark brown hair was in need of a trim, easily covering his ears and his eyes...his eyes were the same golden brown he remembered. Despite the fact that the younger man appeared too thin he couldn't have made a better sight to Sterling.

"It's good to see you," he whispered, crunching forward gingerly so that he is standing half a foot away, close enough to feel the man's heat flowing into his body. Something must have showed in his face because suddenly the heat floated about him with more force, feeling much like a warm gust of wind, ruffling his hair and clothing.

Sterling smiled and looked down from behind his glasses with adoration. It never ceased to buoy his mood whenever Seth used that strange inner magic around him. Only once had he ever despised the man's power...and that had been after the accidental murder of his mother, long ago and long since forgiven.

Across from him full lips split into a smile and Seth walks forward to diminish the space between them. "You look more ragged than the last visit. Am I running you thin?" he murmured in amusement, cocking his head to the side, causing his silken hair to fall with the movement like water. "Why are you still holding up this farce? When will you be with me permanently, Adrian?"

"Soon," he reassures, lifting large, masculine hands to rest on a thin, bony waist. It is a great contrast and it never fails to befuddle him that the power dynamic is so very out of sync with their appearances. Sterling shoves this abstraction out of the way however in favor of pulling Seth close to his body, watching as honey eyes disappear behind thick, black lashes.

He looks young, Seth does. Nearly ten years too young even and it is forever enthralling to him who has aged significantly in comparison. But Seth still keeps coming back, keeps looking at him as his equal, despite the obvious lack of ability on his part.

But he will earn his right to be beside Seth. So were they tied to each other as children, so as they would once again be together when the new world rang in.

Sterling sighs, breathing in the smell of cold night air, and pine, and the subtle scent of something like rain that clings to Seth's skin. Tiny, chilled hands brush against his cheek before gently removing his glasses, making the forest around him turn into a hazy purple veil around them before the same hands coax him downward until his lips meet Seth's.

He exhales loudly through his nose and pulls the much smaller man forward, reveling in the sensation of clawed fingers in his neck and the same rushing warm air circling them.

When he finally pulls away his world is full of amber eyes and violet leaves swirling and slapping against his skin as they whirlwind around him.

Seth controlled the air everywhere around him...and there was change within it.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2007-11-28T23:33:00

2007-11-29T05:37:03Z

Title: Green with Envy
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucky Genevra © me and Alaric Klein © paper_inc
AN: Random observation turned drabble. Alaric is over-exaggerated but I rather like to do that.

Alaric could not, for the life of him, figure out what drew Sakey to that boy. Granted, on most days he didn't pretend to try and figure out the blond period. The task was far too trying when he could be doing other things...like flirting with girls or admiring his fingernails.

But honestly, it irked the hell out of him because he could not see what Sakey saw in this Lucky person at all. His hair was long and oftentimes all over the place. His clothes were too large and more than likely cost the same as a pack of gum. Even his bitten fingernails seemed plebeian.

Sakey however thought this grungy little pest was like the second coming. He stared at him incessantly across the school yard and more lunches than not, he was off talking animatedly to the stoic boy at picnic tables in the courtyard instead of sitting at his side.

It simply was not fair.

That beggarly bastard was somehow reaping all the attention that was obviously owed to him. He was the one who had Sakey first. He was the one who slept with him. He was supposed to be the only person Sakey could see.

It all fucking grated at him.

So what if the vagabond could speak a few languages? So could he! And he did it prettier at that.

"Alaric quit pouting. You could at least look in his direction when I introduce you," Sakey scoffed, standing off to the side with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

So what if he wrote things when he was bored like some common bohemian with their penniless existence. So what if he-

Alaric's mental rampage fell short as he quit staring sullenly off into the distance and instead turned with a blank expression towards Sakey's new friend. Instead of finding the ugly face of someone much poorer than himself...he zeroed in on Lucky's eyes and bit back a surprised gasp.

His eyes were the exact color of American money.

And it was fucking delicious.

Alaric's demeanor seemed to melt into something completely different, a salacious and self-important smirk spreading across his thin face. The change was so quick it was comical.

"Hellooo, Green Eyes."

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2007-11-27T13:07:00

2007-11-27T19:11:29Z

Title: Breaking Point
Fandom: Original/Mountain Ash
Rating: R for gore
Characters: Lucky Genevra and Michael Mercier
AN: The idea came up, bit me, and begged to be written. I don't know what to feel.

The blade in his hand was dull and it shined equally so. But it caught the light in Lucky's hands and for some reason he could appreciate the cruel beauty of it.

Lucky ran his free hand over his neck, massaging the tension there before digging blunt fingers higher, over the small ridges of his skull and up and up until he was massaging his crown. The relaxation was not easy to find as the whorls of his fingertips met nothing but a fine dusting of short hair where there was one thick, long shafts of ebony hair spilling across his brow and ears.

His room felt colder for it.

The blade's light shook before his eyes and he stilled his hand after a moment. Mallory. The tiny blonde haired waif of a woman down the hall with her asinine questions and otherworldly laugh. He'd never been a religious person...but he couldn't shake the feeling like Satan was inside of her in some way.

After Felix was forced to shave off his hair Lucky had screamed at him to get out. It was a betrayal in the highest form. Felix was the one person he had to trust in this institute and he had listened to fucking Mallory instead. Mallory who cried pretty tears and screeched of how Lucky's hair was a fine gift from the devil. He had never thought the fine vibration of an electric razor would seal his fate and his hatred so effectively.

The thing that was complimented the most...the one thing that he had to connect him to invisible parents was the one thing Mallory latched on to and destroyed. He hated her more than anything.

He wanted out.

Pale jade eyes fluttered out of sight and Lucky's jaw tightened as he sat at the foot of his cot. The floor was cold against his bare feet and the too large, threadbare sweater he was wearing's collar was so wide that it rested too far out on his shoulders. The drafts attacked the bare skin of his collarbone, his neck, and his head, but he forced himself not to shake.

Instead he was completely focused on Michael. The way Michael looked, the way he smiled, spoke, slept, kissed. He focused on the scar on his knee, the angry glint of his too sharp teeth, the dimple on his cheek until at last Lucky exhaled slowly and loudly, allowing his eyes to open.

The movement was calm and easy, and as the world swam back up around him he could see Michael standing in his corner looking exactly how he imagined with a small smirk in place. It made Lucky's stomach jolt and he slowly raised the blade to his wrist.

"Where did you get that?" Michael whispered, eyes wide and looking terrified as he rushed forward.

Lucky's smile in return is bitter and he pushed down until he could feel the faint sting of breaking skin but goes no further. "I was angry," he whispered, voice sounding gruff and rasping like sandpaper over stone. "I couldn't bare to look at myself after Mallory-...I broke the mirror."

His teeth appeared from behind thin bloodless lips, and the glint off of Lucky's bitter smirk matches the dull sheen of the piece of mirror currently drawing blood from his arm and his fingers.

Michael's eyes shined in a similar fashion, hurt and worry and desperation flashing across the blue surfaces like a phantom. "It'll grow back," he murmured, his too cold hand reaching forward to touch Lucky's wrist.

Lucky's gaze snapped up like a flash of lightning and Michael was suddenly pinned by a world of biting green. A long moment dragged between them both in which they simply stared at each other. Finally, after an age, the corner of the older man's lips twitched. Blue eyes stayed riveted on the movement and watched in quickly dawning confusion as Lucky's lips dragged into a smile.

Suddenly the blade is no longer at Lucky's wrist but wedged deeply in Michael's neck. The movement had been so quick Michael had not been able to even see the dull wink of light before it was too late.

Lucky only smiled and twisted it deeper, watching as almost black blood started gushing from the wound, spilling warmly onto his hand and onto the floor in an almost rhythmic ebb and flow. The wet noises Michael made as he tried to breathe sounded like drowning to Lucky's ears and his hands shook as his conscience began to leak in.

"Wh-what have you done?" Michael spluttered, blood falling from his mouth as he spoke.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead he watched Michael's terrified eyes in something like appreciation before with a mighty exhale through his nose he pulled the shard out of the boy's neck.

"I'm killing you," he hissed, trailing the blood smeared glass across Michael's cheek in a fashion that could almost be termed sweet. The illusion is broken when icy eyes snap right back to the other boy's. "Because if you appear tomorrow...I'll know for sure you're not real. And if you don't appear...then I know you're dead."

"Either way," Lucky went on, pulling away a bit as if nonchalant. His movements were too calm given the situation. The only thing giving him away was the fine shaking of the hand steadying the small boy. "I'll be free."

With that the taller man surged forward and plunged the shard deep, aiming for the pale blue that had kept him from ever living the way he should have. Michael's scream was quiet and pathetic, and the sickening squelch of the glass through his eye made Lucky's stomach turn.

Michael flailed in his gasp, too tiny body moving much like a fish out of water as he tried to fight back. But it was short lived as Lucky's intended target was finally found. In a split second all movement ceased and the thirteen year old lay pliant in his arms like a broken doll.

Lucky breathed heavily, pants slowly morphing into something resembling strangled sobs as he tossed the body onto the floor. His movements were frantic and spoke of swiftly coming horror. There was a huge pool of blood all over his floor and he distantly wondered why it was not bright crimson like it was said to be, instead dark and almost brown, making a truly awful smell within his tiny room.

He threw the shard of glass away as if burned and ran for the door, beating frantic fists against it's surface again and again, yelling himself hoarse for Felix. He dragged his nails against the grain and beat his head against the ungiving wood, his actions reminiscent of a caged animal.

The feel of warm liquid touching his heel made his cries grow more desperate until Lucky wondered if perhaps he'd landed himself straight into hell.

Until suddenly the door flew open.

Lucky lost his balance and fell straight into Felix's arms, clawing bloody fingers into his white jacket. His whole body was tense as he waited...waited for the tension in Felix's body to start that signaled he had seen the dead boy on his floor.

...but it never came.

"Lucky...Lucky what's wrong?"

He didn't move for a long moment. He instead shivered against the warm body given to him, hoping that perhaps it was all a nightmare. That he'd wake up at any moment far away from the asylum where he had just commited murder. The dream never came and he was forced to calm down, slowly gather his thoughts until at last he trembled into motion. He pulled away the smallest bit and stood so that he was once again towering over the blond man. He looked into blue eyes...so unlike Michael's, and he vaguely realized his own were burning in a way he'd almost forgotten about.

When had he last cried he wondered?

But it didn't matter. Lucky looked over his shoulder at the rapidly cooling body. There was blood nearly covering his entire floor and his bed clothes now. One blue eye stared unseeing at the ceiling.

"Lucky?"

He turned back with something like hope in his eyes; pure, unadulterated and manipulated hope.

"I won't be here for much longer."

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2007-11-23T03:23:00

2007-11-23T09:27:14Z

Title: All Work and No Play
Fandom: Original
Rating: NC-17, because the internet is for porn.
Characters: Lucky Genevra © me, Sakejét Yvan-Lacun © paper_inc
AN: I promised smut and I deliver. Unfortunately it both craps out in the middle and I'm unsure whether Sakey is IC or OOC. *harrumphs* Either way, I did it.

There was something terribly amazing about simply sitting in hot water. Lucky couldn't really decide if it was because the bath relaxed him, or if it was the direct contrast of chilled porcelain at his back. The truth of the matter was that he had never really taken baths until he had come to live with Sakey and Alaric.

It was a novelty. He had spent the last eighteen or so years of his life taking short showers and being on his way. But Alaric's bathroom was made for simply sitting around and doing absolutely nothing.

Lucky exhaled loudly, tipping his head further back over the edge of the porcelain rim, reaching back to lift the hair off of his neck so the cold could leach in. His shoulders flexed against the ungiving surface before he finally found a comfortable position.

This tub was made for him. He could only be very thankful Alaric was near his height. He hated being jammed into too small spaces. But instead he felt quite relaxed, lazy even. Only the vanity light was on and the door was open, leaving the pure white bathroom to be bathed in a mellow gold, the air thick and spicy, smelling very much like Alaric's expensive aftershave.

Muffled footsteps leaked into his room and Lucky cracked open an eye just in time to see Sakey pass by. He looked pleasantly ruffled, his hair finger worn and glasses low on his nose. It was obvious he'd been working. Lucky watched the man's bare feet disappear around the door frame before whistling a loud cat call after him.

A smirk wormed its way across his face as an unamused pale face popped back into his field of vision. Sakey looked adorably annoyed and Lucky's smirk grows as he closes his eyes and rolls his head back.

"Can I help you?"

The fine tinkle of water against water sounds like its a million miles away as Lucky lifts a hand, beckoning the blond man over with a crooked finger. Sakey frowns further and rolls his eyes, but miraculously does step into his humid little world, coming to stand in an expectant position by the tub.

Lucky finally opens his eyes, settling on Sakey's soft features with something like lazy appraisal. The man has removed his glasses and Lucky can see them glinting in his gently clasped fist. Sakey looks less severe without them.

"Y'know something?" Lucky mumbled, the deep bass of his voice becoming more prominent because of the way his body is angled. He lifts himself out of the water just a bit so that he is all glistening shoulders and complete eye contact.

Sakey doesn't appear impressed but there is something in the way his back goes more rigid that has captured Lucky's interest. "What?"

His smirk deepens into something like deviancy as Lucky stares him down. "You work too hard," he responded before erupting into a fit of movement, launching forward and grabbing hold of Sakey's shirt and pulling. Within seconds he has Sakey very awkwardly and painfully sprawled across his lap sideways in the warm water, spluttering and very loudly protesting the kiss Lucky tries to initiate.

"Lucky! What in the hell! L-let me go!"

The raven haired man is not listening at all however, batting away windmilling arms and working to right the situation. Within seconds he has managed to get Sakey straddling his waist, the water going over the edges of the tub and splashing onto the floor with strange sickly sounds.

Despite the spluttering Lucky pulls Sakey forward by gentle, coaxing hands on his neck. For all of a split second he marvels at just how large and ungainly they look against Sakey's skin before the other man is close enough that he can feel his huffy breathing melting against his lips.

"Sakey," he whispered, brushing hips lips against the blond's and smirking as he felt the noticeable lessening of stress in his body as he relaxed. Only then did he keep going, making sure to speak every word into Sakey's mouth. "All work and no play makes Sakey a dull boy."

Lucky watches dusty eyelashes flutter shut before closing the infinitesimal distance between. The kiss is deep and breathing, loud exhales leaving both of them through their noses as Sakey seems to forget he is still fully clothed and soaking wet, instead pushing his thin fingers into Lucky's thick, damp hair and forcing his head against the porcelain with an audible thud.

The sound does not seem to deter either of them. Lucky simply lolls back against the smooth surface at his back and lets the hands formerly holding Sakey's face to slide down his body, coming to rest on the man's hips. As he chases after Sakey's tongue he rocks his smaller body forward into his own. In the background the same sickening slosh of water mingles with the soft, wet sounds of kissing and heavy breathing.

A small pause rings through the kiss and it's the only signal Lucky gets that Sakey felt the tremor of pleasure as well. It emboldens him and he languidly went about undoing and tugging his sodden pants down his thighs. The task is difficult but Sakey has always been helpful and much more adept at removing clothes than even the practiced Lucky could be and so with much maneuvering and several seconds later the heavy 'plop' of fabric against linoleum skitters off the tile walls.

Lucky gives a quiet moan as he grips Sakey closer at the same moment he rolls his hips up. The friction is made twice as luxurious by the bath water and he gives into the movement a second time before breaking away to mouth the column of Sakey's neck, enjoying the way fingers dig more tightly through his hair. He is distantly grateful he is so hard-headed considering the strange fascination both he and Alaric seem to have with pulling his hair.

But the trifling pain still sends something like a shiver down his spine and despite the balmy heat surrounding them both he can feel the hair on his arms stand on end, not at all helped by Sakey's erratic breathing ghosting across his ear.

His body demands that he roll over and cover Sakey's tiny body with his own until he is covering every square inch of stupidly smooth skin but it is impossible in the bath. Instead he makes due as best he can by arching continuously and almost sleepily again and again, his whole body trained for the subtle, silent clues Sakey gives off until at last the ache between his legs began to become painful.

Trailing the kisses back to Sakey's lips, Lucky's fingers fumbled along the edge nearby, carefully tracing plastic bottles one by one until at last he found the one he was searching for. It was a very expensive and very aromatic conditioner that he can only assume Alaric uses. Patchouli and something like the tangy scent of bergamot are heady in the steam and makes the taste of Sakey's tongue somehow more unique against his own.

Lucky coats his fingers in the thick soap before dropping the bottle over the side just like the rest. His world has condensed so much he doesn't here the sound of the container hitting the floor. All he notices is the sensation of his fingers gliding against himself beneath the water.

The restrained sound Sakey makes as he enters him is like an invitation all its own. It is a breathy almost choke, as if he has momentarily forgotten to breathe. The smaller man is held above him, tiny hands no longer in his hair but clenched on the sides of the bath, looking far too pale despite the glow of the room as he artfully slides his body down.

Lucky kisses his neck and runs too hot hands down his back until the movement stops, feeling as if perhaps all the perfumes in the air are going to suffocate him or if it's perhaps simply the delicious pressure of Sakey's body around him that is stealing his breath.

As he slowly lifts his hips, Sakey's weight nothing in his lap, he is positive the blame is on him as the air is knocked out of him completely. Sakey however clearly does not notice, pulling him hastily forward by his neck, the kiss crushing and almost frantic.

For a split second, Lucky allows himself to feel smug as he returns the kiss with equal fury, but suddenly Sakey is the one moving instead, rising up and crashing back down, too sharp hips digging into his own as Lucky breaks away to bite his lip in surprise.

Sakey is dogged however and turns his face insistently, lips searing and making the blood in Lucky's head disappear as if evaporating in the heat. His fingers claw into Sakey's hips and his own cant up restlessly. The water splashes over the side with increasing frequency but Lucky is unaware.

All that he can hear...all that he can see or feel, is Sakey whom has regressed to a staccato rocking. The slick slide of skin, hot and almost blending, clashes with the too coarse material of Sakey's shirt that is sticking against Lucky's chest, but it makes the moment more surreal.

And surreality is something Lucky has plenty of experience with and so he embraces it without thought, hands dragging up Sakey's back, bunching the material as he went until he could anchor himself at his shoulder blades.

The kiss breaks a final time as Sakey gasps against his cheek, pushing his hips away from his own before sliding back home. The coil tightening in his stomach quivers happily at the abrupt movement and the quiet curse that is almost sobbed in his ear is enough...it's always enough. Lucky's hips snap up out of reflex and what feels like volts of electricity course out from his stomach all over his body, touching every nerve to the tips of his fingers to his toes. He hangs in a balance of the mind for what feels a short enternity until at last he begins falling speadily back to earth, realizing too late that he has bitten down into Sakey's shoulder and that there are no doubt small crescents in his back where his fingers had dug in convulsively. The water around them is noticeably lukewarm now and Lucky ignores the evidence of their romp.

Lucky cannot even be assed to make a smartass remark so tired is he and so he instead falls limply back into the porcelain, gathering the pliant and warm body against his own almost like a small child considering the size difference, but he doesn't care.

The quiet infiltrates the bathroom once again, nothing more than a very faint drip of water from the bath to the floor. Lucky keeps his eyes closed and he is sure that they are no doubt going to fall asleep any minute, cold water or no when a new voice breaks the silence.

"A dull boy indeed."

Lucky and Sakey both startle badly, lurching to look in the direction of the doorway in a splash of water. The silhouette of Alaric stood leaning quite nonchalantly against the doorframe and Lucky can't help but smirk sleepily in return.

"Indeed."

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2007-11-22T19:40:00

2007-11-23T01:43:26Z

Title: Thanksgiving
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucky Genevra © me, Sakejét Yvan-Lacun © paper_inc
AN: Set in the asylum. Lucky is an emo kid.

Thanksgiving was a stupid holiday. It was made stupider by having to celebrate it in the asylum. After all, how easy is it to stomach food when there is an emaciated and nearly dismembered little boy floating about?

No, in all actuality, Michael's gruesome appearance had become so normal to him that there was no threat of being put off of his food. The real problem was that a holiday in the asylum felt wrong. In his head, Thanksgiving had been a holiday he used to actually look forward to. Copious amounts of food could make even his sourest of moods a bit better, lots and lots of annoying family be damned.

But reality was a lot harsher in that respect. As Lucky sat at the long table put together in the mess hall watching all his inmates in hell poke at dry turkey and stuffing that smelled like gym socks he couldn't help but be reminded again and again that he had no family to annoy the shit out of him.

His "family" consisted of pale, too thin lunatics in each room. The girl in front of him had purple bruises under her eyes and continued to spit up whatever food her orderly tried to feed her. It was repulsive and he wanted to belittle her, tell her what he thought of the disgusting display.

But that life was long gone. Belittling people now was always tainted with the reminder that he was no longer as superior as he once was. Being schizophrenic automatically took away all of his rights to look down his nose at people and he hated that.

He hated that he was being fed disgusting mushy peas and rubber looking ham while he sat among blubbering idiots too far in their own head to even realize what day it was. He hated that his hair itched in need of a wash and that the man to his left's fingernails had blood beneath them from clawing at an orderly.

But most of all he hated that he had no family. No real family here.

Across the room the "doll girl" sat with a pair of people who looked far too different from her. Neither shared her hair color and as far as he could see, her eyes either. But the way the pair handled her, spoke to her in hushed words and touched her tiny porcelain hands he could only assume they were related.

It stung.

He knew, rationally, that his father was dead and that his mother did not want him in this world. Hart did not exist. His daughter did not exist. No more screaming across finely wrapped and glinting presents and no more visiting bars for likewise lonely people.

No.

He had sodding dry turkey and insane babbling.

Lucky sighed and pushed his paper plate of sludge away, resting his cheek in his hand. He could feel that it was thinner than it used to be and it just made reality that much bleaker, that much more disgusting with it's awful looks and awful smells and awful sounds.

He heard the loud shriek of Mallory down the table, something about cranberries and kings but he tuned her out, as he did most days as he pushed himself away from the table, the scrape of his chair joining the din of inane conversation.

Only Felix looked up and watched him leave the mess hall. The blue eyed man did not stop him though and it was with a heavy heart at the thought even Felix was not going to treat him as family, that Lucky went back to his room. His room was too cold and sunset was already casting tree made claws across his walls.

Michael hovered near the door and Lucky only frowned in greeting as he closed the door behind him. The resounding click, mingled with the wailing wind outside was something like a death nell, the slight hiss of an airlock even.

Lucky didn't much care.

He turned around with a sigh and startled a bit to see Sakey sitting in his bed, glasses low on his nose and a book in his thin hands. He was wearing thin linen pants and a white tshirt, sock clad feet crossed at the ankle. Were Lucky that type of person, he would almost say it looked endearing but as it were, he was not.

Really and truly he could only feel upset knowing the clothes were not warm enough and that Sakey was no doubt exceptionally hot at that moment. But temperatures and clothes faded away as pale brown eyes lifted and landed on him. Something in them seemed to light up at his presence and Lucky's stomach lurched pleasantly.

He should have known Sakey would not attend the stupid ass dinner but he had not expected the man to be waiting in his room for him; for him. Lucky swallowed loudly and shucked off his t-shirt before plodding over and lying in the bed next to Sakey, intent to fall asleep while Sakey read, deciding perhaps he could be thankful after all.

Fuck family.

kaitlinbell_inc @ 2007-11-21T01:52:00

2007-11-21T07:55:42Z

Title: Insomnia
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG
Characters: Lucky Genevra © me, Sakejét Yvan-Lacun © paper_inc
AN: After much discussion...this tiny scene unfolded in mah brain. All for Jess <3

Lucky's eyes pinged open at sometime close to ten after two in the morning. There was no reason for this and his body did not feel tired or groggy as he stared at the ceiling. He lay there for several minutes, slowly trying to figure out what had woken him considering he normally slept like the dead for twelve hours straight.

After an extremely long moment it became apparent that no answers were forthcoming and so Lucky sighed, lifting the arm that was not circled around Sakey's shoulders to rub at his face.

It was just the two of them this night, Alaric away. He's not terribly sure what he's off doing, whether it be a late running party or a business trip of sorts. He's not really all that worried about it. Sakey and him had spent the evening eating Chinese takeout and watching a rather bizarre Saiaelic movie that Sakey claimed to be his favorite.

Lucky hadn't complained. There had been copious gay sex scenes that kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. Sakey practically sprawling across him on the couch under the cashmere throw didn't hurt matters either.

By the time they had headed off to bed Lucky had found himself in an indescribably good mood. Sakey cursing breathily into his ear as he slowly and sleepily pushed inside of him again and again made falling asleep shortly after feel like a dream.

Despite being ridiculously awake now though, the dream quality was still buzzing faintly around his head. They were in his room, one of the few on the floor with dark grey walls. The door was ajar across the room and he absentmindedly wondered why they had not bothered to turn off the lights in the rest of the house. A faint orange glow permeated the thin gap, flooding their tiny kingdom in an almost captivating array of muzzy blues and dull bronze.

Sakey, asleep at his side with his head on Lucky's chest, looks burnished and almost unrecognizable in this light, his hair fanning across his pale skin in flaxen waves. The clock just beyond the man's pale shoulder tells him the time in searing, painful red and Lucky looks away from it quickly.

He doesn't understand why he's awake but he supposes there's no use fighting it. No matter how appealing the thought of simply staring at Sakey for hours may be it is not practical, especially considering the angle his neck is forced into. So at last Lucky sighs a second time and begins to slowly creep his way out from under Sakey.

It is a difficult task. His arm is under Sakey's upper back and managing to not jostle the blond man is ridiculously hard, but he eventually manages to get the slumbering man to a lying position atop the wrinkled sheets.

Lucky frowns at the fact that Sakey somehow looks even more beautiful like this, curled over on his side with his hair tumbling over his face, a hand half curled against the pillow. It makes leaving that much harder but the restlessness that is dragging claws against his mind reminds him not to stay.

He reluctantly pulls the sheets up higher until they are resting on Sakey's shoulder before he leans forward and brushes his lips softly against Sakey's cheek. Dusty eyelashes jump at the touch but do not flutter open and Lucky turns his head to smile almost wanly into his ear.

"Love you," he murmurs, placing a final kiss on Sakey's ear before pulling away and heaving himself off of the mattress. The room is lit enough that he does not stumble at all as he leaves the room. The rest of the house and it's lights hurt his eyes so he squints as he enters the kitchen and turns the coffee pot on.

Lucky stands there, arms resting against the counter as he watches the slow, infuriating drip drip of the coffee machine. He thinks perhaps he may even fall back asleep soon when suddenly a pair of arms are around his waist, hugging him so tightly he wonders in the back of his mind if perhaps there will be lines of indent along his abdomen.

The height though, gives away his clinging attacker and Lucky smirks, turning around and gathering Sakey against his body so that they are flush against one another. The surprise is visible on his face. Sakey is a tactile person but rarely ever holds on to him with such a desperate grasp.

He begins to worry when Sakey's face disappears into his chest but the words mumbled back up to him explain everything and he can't help but wonder if perhaps he is still somehow dreaming.

Because the very muffled and unintelligible words of "I love you" spoken into his chest is the best damn thing he's ever heard.