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.


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... )
DVD Commentary, as requested by [livejournal.com profile] painispretty, who had the foresight to ask for the achievable, ie, just this scene.

Story without commentary to be found here.

Read more... )
DVD Commentary, as requested by [livejournal.com profile] painispretty, who had the foresight to ask for the achievable, ie, just this scene.

Story without commentary to be found here.

Read more... )
alexdraven: close up of an eye with goth makeup (Mal)
( Feb. 26th, 2004 11:17 pm)
Contuing from here. The rest of her story can be found here. Or you could read this one as stand alone smut. I'm easy, but as always - feedback/comments are welcomed.

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

Driving home with the sun long since up Mal was humming along to The Extaze around a small but persistent smile. That had been fun. The first half of the night felt forever ago, and the warm ache in her thighs and the slight press of bruises where she'd thrown herself against the table edges playing air hockey were only helping keep the more recent parts real in her head. She'd never have expected it to look at the guy, but Neo was good company, and a damn fine dancer. Put up a fair fight with the beat-em-ups too, at least once she'd accepted the handicap of not playing Ivy every match.

Pulling into the parking lot behind her apartment building, she killed the engine, and just sat for a moment listening to the tick of Wintermute's engine and the distant sounds of other, normal, people going about their normal mornings. She stretched, pushing back against the steering wheel until the tops of her shoulders pulled and her neck cracked as she twisted. Definitely fun. And kinda cute, once you looked past the 'first two items off the floor' wardrobe method.

not worksafe ;) )
Tags:
alexdraven: close up of an eye with goth makeup (Mal)
( Feb. 26th, 2004 11:17 pm)
Contuing from here. The rest of her story can be found here. Or you could read this one as stand alone smut. I'm easy, but as always - feedback/comments are welcomed.

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

Driving home with the sun long since up Mal was humming along to The Extaze around a small but persistent smile. That had been fun. The first half of the night felt forever ago, and the warm ache in her thighs and the slight press of bruises where she'd thrown herself against the table edges playing air hockey were only helping keep the more recent parts real in her head. She'd never have expected it to look at the guy, but Neo was good company, and a damn fine dancer. Put up a fair fight with the beat-em-ups too, at least once she'd accepted the handicap of not playing Ivy every match.

Pulling into the parking lot behind her apartment building, she killed the engine, and just sat for a moment listening to the tick of Wintermute's engine and the distant sounds of other, normal, people going about their normal mornings. She stretched, pushing back against the steering wheel until the tops of her shoulders pulled and her neck cracked as she twisted. Definitely fun. And kinda cute, once you looked past the 'first two items off the floor' wardrobe method.

not worksafe ;) )
Tags:
alexdraven: close up of an eye with goth makeup (Mal)
( Feb. 4th, 2004 10:52 pm)
A tripple-drabble that follows on immediately after this

Mal is not a happy bunny )
Tags:
alexdraven: close up of an eye with goth makeup (Mal)
( Feb. 4th, 2004 10:52 pm)
A tripple-drabble that follows on immediately after this

Mal is not a happy bunny )
Tags:
alexdraven: close up of an eye with goth makeup (Mal)
( Jan. 15th, 2004 05:33 pm)
She's not even naked, and nothing about this situation is different from a hundred other jobs, and it would be really unprofessional to jump up and rummage through her street clothes to find her phone, and even if she did, who was she going to call? So she's going to just sit here and do her job. Sit here and keep on adjusting the angle of her ankles on teetering heels and keep on biting her lip and twisting her hair around her fingers and following the god damned directions because Tony had thought of her for this, not any of the other girls. And this guy had paid Ezzy on the spot, shaking Ezzy's boyfriend by the hand when he came by to pick her up and then peeling off the notes, which meant he was already leagues ahead of some jobs, and really, truly, nothing had changed, so chill, babe, chill.

Damnit, no modelling job had gotten to her like this since the time Kyle had whipped out a razor and a tub of Directions and challenged her to turn herself into a natural blue for him in front of the camera, back when she was 17 and new to London. No way was she letting this guy with his pathetic little toy box and his overheated studio get under her skin, no matter how she could feel his eyes heavy on her, or how much he touched her setting up his posses, or how many times he called her sweetheart. She just wasn't.
Tags:
alexdraven: close up of an eye with goth makeup (Mal)
( Jan. 15th, 2004 05:33 pm)
She's not even naked, and nothing about this situation is different from a hundred other jobs, and it would be really unprofessional to jump up and rummage through her street clothes to find her phone, and even if she did, who was she going to call? So she's going to just sit here and do her job. Sit here and keep on adjusting the angle of her ankles on teetering heels and keep on biting her lip and twisting her hair around her fingers and following the god damned directions because Tony had thought of her for this, not any of the other girls. And this guy had paid Ezzy on the spot, shaking Ezzy's boyfriend by the hand when he came by to pick her up and then peeling off the notes, which meant he was already leagues ahead of some jobs, and really, truly, nothing had changed, so chill, babe, chill.

Damnit, no modelling job had gotten to her like this since the time Kyle had whipped out a razor and a tub of Directions and challenged her to turn herself into a natural blue for him in front of the camera, back when she was 17 and new to London. No way was she letting this guy with his pathetic little toy box and his overheated studio get under her skin, no matter how she could feel his eyes heavy on her, or how much he touched her setting up his posses, or how many times he called her sweetheart. She just wasn't.
Tags:
alexdraven: close up of an eye with goth makeup (Mal)
( Dec. 9th, 2003 11:59 am)
Itchy in her skin, picky and fussing and unable to settle to anything. Not music, code, not even a whole three-minute video on EAM. In the end she threw the remote across the room and grabbed boots and her car keys and headed for the door.

Driving should have worked. Wintermute was her safety net, her escape pod. She'd freaked both her parents out while she was still in high school by vanishing for two straight days, sleeping in the spacious hearse and paying cash for gas and clubs. It was pretty offensive that her mom thought she was dead if she stopped using her credit cards.

Driving didn't work - she couldn't pick a destination or even a direction. None of the songs random select threw up satisfied her, and none of the play lists were working. The circuit-board jewel hanging from the rear view mirror was pissing her off, catching the light in the corner of her eye. She reached up, snapping the chain and threw the broken decoration viciously into the back before slamming a three point turn in an alley and heading back towards the docks again.

She wanted to scream, but couldn't quite find the frequency that would tell her why. It was driving her batshit.

********
[note : EAM is the Eden Alternative channel. The city of Eden belong to [livejournal.com profile] cicirossi, and I apologise for amking up tv channels for it. This snippet is from the oneword for the day - discontentchimed so strongly with her muse space right now. ]
Tags:
alexdraven: close up of an eye with goth makeup (Mal)
( Dec. 9th, 2003 11:59 am)
Itchy in her skin, picky and fussing and unable to settle to anything. Not music, code, not even a whole three-minute video on EAM. In the end she threw the remote across the room and grabbed boots and her car keys and headed for the door.

Driving should have worked. Wintermute was her safety net, her escape pod. She'd freaked both her parents out while she was still in high school by vanishing for two straight days, sleeping in the spacious hearse and paying cash for gas and clubs. It was pretty offensive that her mom thought she was dead if she stopped using her credit cards.

Driving didn't work - she couldn't pick a destination or even a direction. None of the songs random select threw up satisfied her, and none of the play lists were working. The circuit-board jewel hanging from the rear view mirror was pissing her off, catching the light in the corner of her eye. She reached up, snapping the chain and threw the broken decoration viciously into the back before slamming a three point turn in an alley and heading back towards the docks again.

She wanted to scream, but couldn't quite find the frequency that would tell her why. It was driving her batshit.

********
[note : EAM is the Eden Alternative channel. The city of Eden belong to [livejournal.com profile] cicirossi, and I apologise for amking up tv channels for it. This snippet is from the oneword for the day - discontentchimed so strongly with her muse space right now. ]
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