The rain was coming down in flurries and swirls, and whichever way Trent turned, it seemed to manage to be in his face. He hunched himself around the hot takeout cups he was carrying, and wished, increasingly petulantly, for the freaking bus to turn up already. He’d been waiting for at least ten minutes, and his trainers were getting soggy, and even layered up he was starting to freeze, and if the bus didn’t show up soon Ru would already have left by the time Trent got over to the art warehouse.

Trent juggled the cups to get them resting warm against his chest so he could look at his watch. Twelve minutes, and eight past due, and he was going to miss Ru, and next time he was just going to phone first and forget about nice surprises. He squinted into the gloom, straining to make out any vaguely bus-shaped vehicles : the road was mostly sweeping headlights and rumbling noise. He shivered, wrapped both arms around the coffee cups, and resolved that he was going to buy a new hat when he picked up his check on Friday.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was actually possible to be any colder or more miserable than he was currently, but he was plenty happy never to find out when a solid block of warm golden glow resolved into a much-delayed city bus. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and tried to ignore the unpleasant squelching, instead concentrating on the bus’s steady glide through the traffic and the promise of heat when the doors hissed open.
The rain was coming down in flurries and swirls, and whichever way Trent turned, it seemed to manage to be in his face. He hunched himself around the hot takeout cups he was carrying, and wished, increasingly petulantly, for the freaking bus to turn up already. He’d been waiting for at least ten minutes, and his trainers were getting soggy, and even layered up he was starting to freeze, and if the bus didn’t show up soon Ru would already have left by the time Trent got over to the art warehouse.

Trent juggled the cups to get them resting warm against his chest so he could look at his watch. Twelve minutes, and eight past due, and he was going to miss Ru, and next time he was just going to phone first and forget about nice surprises. He squinted into the gloom, straining to make out any vaguely bus-shaped vehicles : the road was mostly sweeping headlights and rumbling noise. He shivered, wrapped both arms around the coffee cups, and resolved that he was going to buy a new hat when he picked up his check on Friday.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was actually possible to be any colder or more miserable than he was currently, but he was plenty happy never to find out when a solid block of warm golden glow resolved into a much-delayed city bus. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and tried to ignore the unpleasant squelching, instead concentrating on the bus’s steady glide through the traffic and the promise of heat when the doors hissed open.
For [livejournal.com profile] eudaimon, who seeded the quote.

you can fall for chains of silver
you can fall for chains of gold
you can fall for pretty strangers
and the promises they hold


It wasn't her fault. She'd wink at you, shrugging with that little wide eyed 'what?' motion when you teased her that there was yet another face waiting over her shoulder, all eyeliner and disappointment.

It wasn't her fault that she was beautiful, that she smiled and laughed and danced and drank and drew everyone around her into her orbit. It wasn't her fault at all that there's always fresh blood in Eden's clubs, boys and beautiful men who didn’t know yet. That sometimes the wriggling armful in your lap was nothing more than friendly, and sometimes it was much more, but only for a night or two, and that if you plied her with pretty drinks that didn’t mean that she wouldn't thank you with lipstick kisses and then allow the shimmer of someone else's beauty to distract her or have some song with a memory lure her back to one of her boys.

You'd never quite been sure what elevated you from a serial flirtation to a member of her part time harem, but with her playful fingers plucking at the chain around your neck, you never asked and you'd never been sure how long it would last, and you'd never cared. Every time she wound herself into your arms, lush against your hip and eager for tasting it was perfect. And every time she danced away you teased her and let her fly, because you'd seen what happens to the boys who whine and ask for more, and you've never needed that kind of heartbreak.
For [livejournal.com profile] eudaimon, who seeded the quote.

you can fall for chains of silver
you can fall for chains of gold
you can fall for pretty strangers
and the promises they hold


It wasn't her fault. She'd wink at you, shrugging with that little wide eyed 'what?' motion when you teased her that there was yet another face waiting over her shoulder, all eyeliner and disappointment.

It wasn't her fault that she was beautiful, that she smiled and laughed and danced and drank and drew everyone around her into her orbit. It wasn't her fault at all that there's always fresh blood in Eden's clubs, boys and beautiful men who didn’t know yet. That sometimes the wriggling armful in your lap was nothing more than friendly, and sometimes it was much more, but only for a night or two, and that if you plied her with pretty drinks that didn’t mean that she wouldn't thank you with lipstick kisses and then allow the shimmer of someone else's beauty to distract her or have some song with a memory lure her back to one of her boys.

You'd never quite been sure what elevated you from a serial flirtation to a member of her part time harem, but with her playful fingers plucking at the chain around your neck, you never asked and you'd never been sure how long it would last, and you'd never cared. Every time she wound herself into your arms, lush against your hip and eager for tasting it was perfect. And every time she danced away you teased her and let her fly, because you'd seen what happens to the boys who whine and ask for more, and you've never needed that kind of heartbreak.
For [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara, for her birthday - Ru's her boy and Trent's best friend, and I apologise for any liberties I've taken with him here. More Trent and Ru can be found here, here and here.


***** ***** *****

If his mom were to call the dorm, Russell would tell her that he was with Ru. Which was true, it's just if she knew where they were or what they were doing she'd have a cow. Mrs Abernathy probably knew, although Trent hoped she was assuming it was an all ages, because the idea that she might know about the fake ID's was a bit scary.

He was also pretty sure neither of them really looked twenty one, but the huge bald guy perched behind the tall table at the door had greeted Ru like and old friend and taken their money and told them to have a good show and hadn't even glanced at the cards, and now here they were. The Principles. Ru had been talking about this for weeks.

***** ****** ***** )
For [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara, for her birthday - Ru's her boy and Trent's best friend, and I apologise for any liberties I've taken with him here. More Trent and Ru can be found here, here and here.


***** ***** *****

If his mom were to call the dorm, Russell would tell her that he was with Ru. Which was true, it's just if she knew where they were or what they were doing she'd have a cow. Mrs Abernathy probably knew, although Trent hoped she was assuming it was an all ages, because the idea that she might know about the fake ID's was a bit scary.

He was also pretty sure neither of them really looked twenty one, but the huge bald guy perched behind the tall table at the door had greeted Ru like and old friend and taken their money and told them to have a good show and hadn't even glanced at the cards, and now here they were. The Principles. Ru had been talking about this for weeks.

***** ****** ***** )
Trent is my ballet boy : his story can be found indexed here. I asked for a ficlet with music, motion and lighting effects from [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara and it kicked this loose for me.

Dance this way )
Trent is my ballet boy : his story can be found indexed here. I asked for a ficlet with music, motion and lighting effects from [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara and it kicked this loose for me.

Dance this way )


More often than not modelling work was decidedly dull to do. The same faces, same poses, same sets, same cheesy banter, outfits that were much of a much-ness. Worth it only for the sense of power and freedom that the final prints sometimes gave her.

This one, however, was fun.

She hadn't worked with Casper before, and the only shoot she'd done for Pete – Pete Stone, of PS_X – had been pretty much a catalogue deal, with a group of models all rushed through like the bread and butter work it was.

Slowed down and focussed, though, Pete gave glorious direction, and while the film was rolling she could feel that the finished pictures were going to be something else. The mood added a little something to the predatory smile she was wearing.

What wasn’t to like about the muscled blond prostrate at her feet? Her wrists were bound with fine silk cord, the exact same pose, crossed low over her back, where she'd held the crop. With the whip came a gag and with the restraints it was her boot digging delicious dents in Casper's patterned skin. He had held her pinned at her command, and she had crawled and licked his thighs to assert her control.

All the while the photographer's voice kept up a low thread of words that were half story half instruction.


More often than not modelling work was decidedly dull to do. The same faces, same poses, same sets, same cheesy banter, outfits that were much of a much-ness. Worth it only for the sense of power and freedom that the final prints sometimes gave her.

This one, however, was fun.

She hadn't worked with Casper before, and the only shoot she'd done for Pete – Pete Stone, of PS_X – had been pretty much a catalogue deal, with a group of models all rushed through like the bread and butter work it was.

Slowed down and focussed, though, Pete gave glorious direction, and while the film was rolling she could feel that the finished pictures were going to be something else. The mood added a little something to the predatory smile she was wearing.

What wasn’t to like about the muscled blond prostrate at her feet? Her wrists were bound with fine silk cord, the exact same pose, crossed low over her back, where she'd held the crop. With the whip came a gag and with the restraints it was her boot digging delicious dents in Casper's patterned skin. He had held her pinned at her command, and she had crawled and licked his thighs to assert her control.

All the while the photographer's voice kept up a low thread of words that were half story half instruction.
[livejournal.com profile] othercat requested drabbles based off one of her icons. I have never in my life had a drabble fall out naturally to 100 words, but this one did.

Ficlet to anyone who can spot which one of my characters is talking to Izzy ;)



"Hi!"

"Izzy?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you holding a kitten?"

"Oh – so he's not yours then?"

"No – why would it be?"

"Only he's been curled up by your door all day – I saw him when I went out earlier and … I just thought maybe he'd slipped out our something. He can't exactly ring the buzzer can he? Such a tiny little thing, aren’t you darling?"

"Izzy please – it's a cat not a hand puppet. And it's definitely not mine. You know as well as I do that Bernie would go ape if any of us tried to keep pets here."
[livejournal.com profile] othercat requested drabbles based off one of her icons. I have never in my life had a drabble fall out naturally to 100 words, but this one did.

Ficlet to anyone who can spot which one of my characters is talking to Izzy ;)



"Hi!"

"Izzy?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you holding a kitten?"

"Oh – so he's not yours then?"

"No – why would it be?"

"Only he's been curled up by your door all day – I saw him when I went out earlier and … I just thought maybe he'd slipped out our something. He can't exactly ring the buzzer can he? Such a tiny little thing, aren’t you darling?"

"Izzy please – it's a cat not a hand puppet. And it's definitely not mine. You know as well as I do that Bernie would go ape if any of us tried to keep pets here."
Other Mal story and sketches indexed here.

***** ****** ******

She'd given up smoking on a bet. Sort of.

She'd started in high school with slim Cashman's Lights and less than a fortnight after her first toke she'd spent half her week's allowance on a silver Zippo and her own supply. Style and all the power of attitude multiplied by supply and demand. She graduated brands pretty swiftly as well - less girly, less common, import when she could find them, coloured papers, nifty packaging, brands that matched her outfits sometime; always something a little different from the rest. And the rest did follow, chasing trends like always, until she straight up laughed at Bessy Green who was affecting a cigarette holder, which Mal thought was about the most pretentious thing ever.

Read more... )
Other Mal story and sketches indexed here.

***** ****** ******

She'd given up smoking on a bet. Sort of.

She'd started in high school with slim Cashman's Lights and less than a fortnight after her first toke she'd spent half her week's allowance on a silver Zippo and her own supply. Style and all the power of attitude multiplied by supply and demand. She graduated brands pretty swiftly as well - less girly, less common, import when she could find them, coloured papers, nifty packaging, brands that matched her outfits sometime; always something a little different from the rest. And the rest did follow, chasing trends like always, until she straight up laughed at Bessy Green who was affecting a cigarette holder, which Mal thought was about the most pretentious thing ever.

Read more... )
Other Mal story and sketches indexed here. I think from the voice that this is older [younger?] Mal - Mal back in time before her main story starts.

***** ****** *****

Folding paper cranes had advantages as far as semi-constructive things to keep your hands busy go. For one thing it wasn't smoking, and given how much she still found herself wanting to just bum a clove and suck down the sweet heat, that was a plus. You've got to do something with all the flyers that people thrust at you on your way into clubs, because half the time they were badly-selected badly-designed ugly wastes of paper, and most of the rest of the time she already knew about the gig or the club night. It was habit enough that she didn't even look at her hands most of the time, just let her fingers make the familiar moves and her nails score neat lines, and for some reason it impressed the heck out of people, which she held was very rarely a bad thing.

Read more... )
Other Mal story and sketches indexed here. I think from the voice that this is older [younger?] Mal - Mal back in time before her main story starts.

***** ****** *****

Folding paper cranes had advantages as far as semi-constructive things to keep your hands busy go. For one thing it wasn't smoking, and given how much she still found herself wanting to just bum a clove and suck down the sweet heat, that was a plus. You've got to do something with all the flyers that people thrust at you on your way into clubs, because half the time they were badly-selected badly-designed ugly wastes of paper, and most of the rest of the time she already knew about the gig or the club night. It was habit enough that she didn't even look at her hands most of the time, just let her fingers make the familiar moves and her nails score neat lines, and for some reason it impressed the heck out of people, which she held was very rarely a bad thing.

Read more... )
Previous parts of Trent's story are indexed here. Ru belongs to the lovely [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara. Eden belongs to [livejournal.com profile] cicirossi

***** ****** *****

Written on lined paper torn out of a ringbound notebook, with no return address.

Dear Gram,

I’m going to assume mom’s already been in touch to tell you how I’ve messed up and left school, right? It isn’t quite like that though.

I guess I should start at the beginning. First, though, sorry it’s taken me a while to get to telling you all this. It’s been a very weird couple of days. I really wanted to call you, except I’m staying at Ru’s and running up his parent’s long distance seems like it would be rude, and I’m trying to keep the cell just for emergencies.

You remember Ru, right? I think my mom would have introduced him as Trent – that’s his real name – but he came over a bunch of times the last summer you were staying with us. Tall, skinny, really good friend? So, yes – I’m staying at his for a few days, and we’re going to be getting a place together just as soon as we can find somewhere half decent. And that’s not starting at the beginning.

Yes, I have left school, no I haven’t gone insane, no I’m not totally ungrateful for all the opportunities mom and dad have given me, and no I’m not throwing it all away over a teenage temper tantrum.

snipped for length )
Tags:
Previous parts of Trent's story are indexed here. Ru belongs to the lovely [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara. Eden belongs to [livejournal.com profile] cicirossi

***** ****** *****

Written on lined paper torn out of a ringbound notebook, with no return address.

Dear Gram,

I’m going to assume mom’s already been in touch to tell you how I’ve messed up and left school, right? It isn’t quite like that though.

I guess I should start at the beginning. First, though, sorry it’s taken me a while to get to telling you all this. It’s been a very weird couple of days. I really wanted to call you, except I’m staying at Ru’s and running up his parent’s long distance seems like it would be rude, and I’m trying to keep the cell just for emergencies.

You remember Ru, right? I think my mom would have introduced him as Trent – that’s his real name – but he came over a bunch of times the last summer you were staying with us. Tall, skinny, really good friend? So, yes – I’m staying at his for a few days, and we’re going to be getting a place together just as soon as we can find somewhere half decent. And that’s not starting at the beginning.

Yes, I have left school, no I haven’t gone insane, no I’m not totally ungrateful for all the opportunities mom and dad have given me, and no I’m not throwing it all away over a teenage temper tantrum.

snipped for length )
Tags:
alexdraven: (Trent)
( Jun. 1st, 2004 02:14 pm)
Previous parts of Trent's story are indexed here, and this follows on from Snap, Breath, and Shelter..

Ru Abernathy belongs to the lovely [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara. Eden belongs to [livejournal.com profile] cicirossi

Comments of any sort are most welcome.

***** ***** *****

Well – he wasn’t going back to school, and he hadn’t actually burst into tears, so on average that had gone better than expected.

He’d more or less expected ‘do you have any ideas the sacrifices we’ve made’ and ‘wasting your talent, throwing it away’ and the shrill insistence that he march himself ‘back to that school right now young man’ and apologize to everyone for everything.

He hadn’t expected “I supported you when you came out” thrown at him like that made everything else ok.

Read more... )
Tags:
alexdraven: (Trent)
( Jun. 1st, 2004 02:14 pm)
Previous parts of Trent's story are indexed here, and this follows on from Snap, Breath, and Shelter..

Ru Abernathy belongs to the lovely [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara. Eden belongs to [livejournal.com profile] cicirossi

Comments of any sort are most welcome.

***** ***** *****

Well – he wasn’t going back to school, and he hadn’t actually burst into tears, so on average that had gone better than expected.

He’d more or less expected ‘do you have any ideas the sacrifices we’ve made’ and ‘wasting your talent, throwing it away’ and the shrill insistence that he march himself ‘back to that school right now young man’ and apologize to everyone for everything.

He hadn’t expected “I supported you when you came out” thrown at him like that made everything else ok.

Read more... )
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