I'm burning down every last memory

We have had enough...

2009-06-14T06:26:55Z

Okay~ After staring at my friends-list and realizing I in fact don't know half of who has friended me, I decided I'm doing a friends-cut. Not to mention comparatively speaking, at least 80% of people who have me friended are either a) abandoned journals or b) just don't care.

Sooo, comment here if you want to stay. There are a couple people who have 'get out of jail free' cards but other than that if you don't comment, there's a 99% chance I'm going to remove you. So yeah.

Comment to stay~

EDIT: If you see just this entry after June 15th, you fail hardcore. Mattfail :D

Burn Halo, fuck yes ♥

2009-05-11T18:00:40Z

To start, and so everyone knows: Burn Halo is fucking amazing, and James Hart is seriously the sweetest guy ever.

The show was obviously fantastic, because come on, how could it not be? The Flood was pretty good, reminded me of The Misfits meets something else. I said they reminded me of another band but I don't remember now.

When they were setting up, James kept talking into the mic to test it, and seriously? It was a major tease, especially since he kept walking across the stage and the pants he was wearing definitely showed off his ass (which is a very fine ass, mind you). It was especially teasing when he started singing into it, and someone said "just get on the fucking stage!" or something when he was, and I can't say I disagree necessarily, but I'd rather them get their equipment working well than have them come on right away.

I kept thinking Burn Halo was going to get a bad reaction because the kids there were like, hardcore Static-X fans and I can't think of putting BH against them, but hell, they got most of the fans going without even really trying. Some of the people I was talking to in line said they weren't sure about them, but I'm pretty sure they generally impressed. James sure as fuck knows how to work a crowd. Speaking of crowd, there was this one girl that was fucking pissing me off because she was dancing like a second-rate stripper and giving James the 'fuck-me' finger. Pft, as if.

Set list:
Anejo
So Addicted
Dead End Roads and Lost Highways
Our House
Gasoline
Dirty Little Girl
Save Me

Unfortunately, all the pictures I took came out really crappy so I don't really have photographic evidence and I didn't even bother with my camera phone afterward, because it was pissing me off. Makes me sad. But that's why I write these things, to remind myself if I ever forget something that happened.

Seriously, the way James introduced Our House was fucking perfect. "We know this is a Static-X crowd but we appreciate you guys coming early to see the opening bands. Right now, this is our house," and then launched into the song. The crowd really got going with Dirty Little Girl, obviously, but I was so fucking ecstatic that they played So Addicted 'cause that's my favorite song. :D

I keep thinking about the concert and whenever I do, I get the silliest grin on my face and just kind of... bounce a little because seriously? That concert made me so fucking happy, you have no idea.

After, we went to the merch booth, and James was running it himself. I was kind of surprised, yet kind of not. He seriously ran from backstage straight to the booth and started selling shirts and stuff. I was going to talk to him, but before I said anything he literally grabbed my shirt (because I was wearing an Eighteen Visions shirt), shook it a little and was like "hey, that's awesome. did you ever get to see us?" I told him no, because I got into 18v like, a month after their last show. He just grinned at me while signing my ticket and said, "Well, there's nothing wrong with a late bloomer."

fksdjbjkbdfgkj. He has the cutest signature ever. I still can't get over it.

Then I finally got around to figuring out which shirt I wanted, and I seriously thought he said 'that one sucks' but he said 'what size?' and I kinda looked at him like "O_o it sucks?" and he laughed at me, shook his head and was like, "No, what size? I designed them all so I don't think they suck!" That's not the best part, though. I had it in my head to give James a rosary that I found while cleaning my room a few months back, and when I gave it to him, he took it kinda cautiously and was like, "whoa, is this a rosary? that is so awesome of you!" and his eyes lit up like, seriously. It was so fucking dsfgblkfg. Then he was like "what's your name?" and was like, shaking my hand as he did so. He thought my name was Jane. I had to tell him three times it was Jade, and even then I think he thinks my name's James or something, because he said James and I don't think he was introducing himself. Silly James.

After Burn Halo's set we had to leave because Katt had a wicked sinus infection and it was bad enough without staying for Static-X. I only wish I could have talked to him more, but I'm sure I'll get more chances because when I move to Georgia, I'm sure Julie and I will end up going to any and all Burn Halo concerts that come within a 4 hour radius. Haha. Win.♥

We got the rest of the guys' signatures too, but they were loading up the trailer so we didn't stop them to talk. Zacky went up to Aaron and asked him for his autograph and he was kind of like "o_o how did you know my name?!" It was kind of funny. Joey looked so nervous when they were setting up the stage and he was kinda like "o_o" too when we asked for his autograph but it's kinda like 'hey, kids, welcome to show business' or something. XD

But yes. I love Burn Halo.♥

We like it louder than hell

2009-02-05T08:31:20Z

Motley. fucking. Crue. Goddamn.

First up was The Last Vegas. I wasn't impressed. :\ It was like they were trying wayyy too hard and I suppose one would feel like they'd need to opening for Motley fucking Crue, but still. None of it was natural and especially the lead singer was forcing it.

Theory of a Deadman was up next. They had pretty good stage presence, but their guitarist was pretty impressive. They had good energy - I only knew one song, but I wasn't there to see them. xD They were good live, though. There were two fangirls - especially for this band - next to me and they were gushing about how hot the guitarist and lead singer were. I wanted to tell them to sit down and shut the fuck up.

Then came Hinder. Ungh, I'd almost forgotten how much I love that band. God. They played Homecoming Queen, How Long, Get Stoned, Lips of an Angel, Better than Me, as well as Use Me, Take It To The Limit and Up All Night from their newest CD which I fully plan on getting when I have the chance to. There was a girl behind me (who was actually really hot) who was there for Hinder, and she and I kind of made friends. I didn't know her name, I only know she had both nostrils pierced, her lip pierced, purple under her natural hair color and a chest tattoo with sparrows and a vine of rosebuds. She also said she had two kids, and I was like "o-o howww?" because she was literally fucking tiny. Anyway, she was singing along as much as I was. It was awesome. XD I love Austin's stage presence. :D

Then, the piece de resistance. Motley Crue. For two fucking hours, Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee were my fucking heart beat. Seriously, it relied on Tommy's bass drum and Nikki's bass. Vince had the entire crowd in the palm of his hand, and all Mick had to do was stand there and be fucking awesome.

Vince was generally energetic and awesome, getting everyone to chant with him no problem. He had us do "Live Wire", "Shout at the Devil", "Looks That Kill" and a couple more, but I sang along to all of them. Heh. ^^

Nikki made the crowd scream, literally, for Primal Scream right after he said "People kept telling me, 'Thank God for Motley fucking Crue' when clearly we're sent from the devil, right?!" XD He was making some of the funniest faces and riling the crowd up like whoa whenever he got anywhere near. He was being generally energetic and amazing, of course, bouncing around and playing the jester.

Tommy came out from behind the drum kit and passed around Jagermeister, talked to the crowd and generally was strutting around like the cocky bastard he is. Oh, did I mention he was shirtless and his pants were ready to fall off? Goddamn. He kept being all "When I say Motley, you say Crue!" And the crowd fucking loved it. Me included, of course.

Oh, there were these two assholes that were trying to get up on the barricade (where I WAS, BOOYAH, BITCH) and they almost knocked over the cute girl mentioned above. Myself and another, older lady saved her ass and the guy got taken out of the standing room area. I think he decked someone in the face, too, but I'm not sure. He had the nerve to apologize to her afterward, but he was such a dick. The girl was a bitch, too. But alas, the security (which was tighter than a virgin's ass, no joke) got ahold of them and fixed it up.

This was the setlist. It's not really in order, but they're all there, I think.

Kickstart My Heart
Wild Side
Live Wire
Shout At The Devil
Too Fast For Love
Saints of Los Angeles
Motherfucker of the Year
Louder Than Hell
Don't Go Away Mad
Girls, Girls, Girls
Primal Scream
Same Ol' Situation
Looks That Kill
White Trash Circus
Dr. Feelgood
Home Sweet Home

Tommy ended it with another round of yelling "Motley" and getting "Crue" in return. Then he said what I'm going to say now.

Night, fuckers.

jadegates @ 2009-01-31T15:31:00

2009-01-31T23:35:20Z

Kabuki Scarlet

2009-01-31T10:27:08Z

Working Title: Kabuki Scarlet
Rating: Overall, NC-17
Summary: Born into sin, James Aldaine was different from his family, and he made sure the world knew it, setting the differences so far as life and death. Years later, as Kabuki Scarlet, he roams the streets, searching for the individuals rife with sin, and skillfully destroying them. He is strict, cold, and methodical, spouting dogma that rings only too true, and showing his face only to the ones about to die. Along the way, he meets Joseph, an anguished ex-cop who has sworn never to love again after losing whom he thought was his one true love, but Kabuki is inexplicably drawn to his intelligence. Will Joseph be the one to change this intelligent madman’s ways?
Genre: Crime, Dark, Death, Drama, Erotica, Horror, Murder, Novel, Strange, Third person.

Prologue | Inception | Gula | Luxuria | Curiosus |

Avaritia
Kabuki had his eye on Steve Estez for a while before he made his move. He was quite possibly the greediest man he’d ever seen, far surpassing his father and he thought that would have never happened. Sure, the guy was a hoarder, but he was also a panderer and a liar and without question, this signed his death warrant.

Kabuki followed him everywhere for a week, learning his habits; where he spent his money, where he ate and where he went to get drunk out of his mind. He couldn’t help but think the guy was more than slightly bipolar too, because he had serious outbursts and then would flip right around and try to be the sweetest guy on the planet, trying to make up for all the stupid things he did while he was out of his mind. It was rather horrible, but Kabuki really got a kick out of it.

Steve had a dirty girlfriend who was suckered into his high charms, and the fact that the woman was so easily persuaded to stay sickened him. He was about to set her free from that terrifying loop cycle anyway, though. She’d silently thank him, he was sure.

He’d christened a particular broad-bladed silver knife as his favorite, and he had it sheathed in his front pocket, resting against his hip as he followed Steve home to a dirty apartment littered with shit, very nearly quite literally. The stench was so powerful that he was almost knocked back outside again as Kabuki slid into the apartment silently behind the oblivious man. Luckily, he had a strong stomach so he could stand the stale scent of sweat and cigarettes. Didn’t make it any less disgusting, though.

He slid his hand down his thigh, feeling the flat of the blade seem to arc up against his palm. He found it rather funny that the man didn’t even really know he was there. He just moved across the apartment and threw his hefty weight down into one of the chairs. It was sweat-stained, and Kabuki could barely tell that it had once been a forest green before Steve had gotten his filthy paws on it.

He watched in amusement as the man pulled out a glass pipe from beneath the chair and packed the bowl. Now, Kabuki had never done anything of the sort, but he knew how to do it and what went on. Marijuana made him fucking sick, and the smell was atrocious in his opinion. He rolled his eyes and cocked his head, skirting around the living room and behind the chair, not inhaling as the smoke curled and screened the area where he was moving.

He came up behind Steve and silently unsheathed the blade from his pocket. He swept his arm down and caught the man right at his pulse point, smirking a little. “Don’t you know that’s bad for you?” he murmured in a silken tone, feeling the man beneath him jerk like he’d been literally shocked, and all he did was let out an echoing chuckle.

“Who the fuck are you, man?” Steve asked, his voice low and gravely but there was a lilt to it that grated on Kabuki’s nerves just enough to press the sharp blade hard enough to split the skin. “Fuck…”

“Fuck what? There’s no fucking going on here,” Kabuki muttered, the sticky sweetness of the blood trailing over his fingers in dark rivulets that stained the pale skin. “You may call me Judgment. You have been charged with the crime of greed. What is your verdict?”

“What the fuck are you goin’ on about, jackass?” the man asked, spraying spit as much as he was carelessly tossing the words out there, and Kabuki’s eyebrow lifted a little under the mask that hid his face.

“Pleading ignorance? Never heard that defense before, but I can go for it,” Kabuki muttered, laughing low in his throat as he reached up and shoved the mask off his face and onto the ground with a soft clatter.

“You’re nuts, dude!” Steve exclaimed, and Kabuki let out a loud, barking laugh that snapped all silkiness in his tone as he rounded and looked up through his lashes as he sunk to one knee in front of the other man. His blue eyes were dark and cloudy with murderous intent and cold amusement. “Yeah…”

“I may be a little deranged, but like you can talk,” Kabuki replied, cocking his head then moving it in one smooth shift, his hair sweeping across his face and creating pale bars of flesh through the strands. He brushed it back in one smooth movement, not missing a beat. “All you care about is money, and by that I mean yourself. You don’t give a shit about anyone else and you’ll use whoever you need to get whatever it is that you want. Lie, cheat, steal. You’ll do anything, anything to make sure things go your way.”

“What do you know about that?” Steve spat in his face, and Kabuki’s lip curled up into a silent snarl as he reached his hand up, wiping the sordid thing off his face and slapping his victim in the face with it. A smart cracking sound of wet skin on dry skin cracked through the apartment like a whip.

“I know everything there is to know,” Kabuki replied in a sinister whisper, full lips curving into a smirk that earned the word deranged as his ice-like eyes sparkled with malice. “You desire nothing but money. You go around, telling everyone what they want to hear if it’s to your benefit, then you go and fuck your dirty girlfriend into submission, then when she’s asleep, you steal her money. She has a daughter, Steve. What kind of madman are you?”

“You’re the madman,” Steven nearly whispered, dark green eyes widened in confusion and fear. “How-how’d you know my name?”

“Same way I know everything else,” Kabuki replied, tilting Steve’s head up with a shift of the blade. He stood, making the other do the same. He backed him to one of the walls, pinning him there with one hand and the blade against his neck. The guy seemed scared out of his mind. “You are all bravado, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off,” Steve spat quietly, and Kabuki laughed. At first it started out as a soft chuckle, but it quickly ascended to a riotous fit. His body pressed closer to the heavy girth of the other man, eyes glittering as he continued to laugh, lips curling back into a sharp grin.

“That’s your last-ditch attempt? You’re about to die, Steve, and all you can think of to say is ‘fuck off’? Wow, try being original once in a while,” Kabuki said, an edge of taunt in his words and in his eyes, but it seemed Steve was too scared to take the bait.

“Fuck you, girly-man,” Steve tried again, and the riotous laughter came again, eyes flaring brightly as he cocked his head.

“Oh, like I haven’t heard that a million times before,” he spat in return, letting his hand drop from Steve’s neck to his wrist, cocking his head and pressing against the sensitive flesh of his inner arm. Steve flinched, and Kabuki smirked, merely pressing harder at the flesh, watching the man’s face and feeling the blood flowing down his fingers.

“Fuck you, dude! Quit it,” Steve snapped, but Kabuki smirked and pressed harder, cocking his head a little as his eyes flared, watching the way Steve seemed to struggle against his blade, grunting and screaming shortly when the blade seemed to nick something particularly sensitive, and he felt the bulky body against him jerk and try to move away, but his blade was embedded in the flesh and wasn’t giving. It was only causing more blood to flow over his working hands.

“I fucking love it when people struggle,” Kabuki murmured, sounding a little entranced as he cut around the flesh of Steve’s wrist, leaving it to bleed out before he grabbed the second hand, pushing the blade deeper and quicker this time, hearing his victim squeak in a very emasculating fashion.

“Dude, stop it.” Steve’s voice was weak, and it seemed it had never occurred to him to fight against this small man that had him pinned and was now bleeding him out. He squirmed but it seemed the marijuana was making him sluggish, since his eyes seemed to become hooded after a moment, the pain spreading through his body and numb him out.

“Never.” Kabuki cut down to the bone all around and then reached down, gripping his hand hard and snapping the bones in his wrists, letting the heavy weight of his severed hand fall to the ground. He reached over and did the same to the first, dropping them onto the ground near to each other.

Steve’s face paled and his body went slack against the wall before he slunk down, one low grunt escaping before he collapsed, eyes half-open and glazed. All life had left him. Kabuki shook his head and pulled two silver dollars out of his pocket, putting one into each curled and severed hand. He glanced up and decided to add a little more bloodshed to the masterpiece, cutting a deep, yawning hole into Steve’s neck. The blood was sluggish and was coagulating as it slid out of the wound. Apparently Steve wasn’t quite dead yet, but Kabuki was sure he was now.

He dipped his fingers into the pooling blood and painted elegantly on the wall. I gave him what he wanted. He sighed and brushed his palms over his thighs as he pushed himself to his feet, sweeping his hand down to grab his mask and slide it on over his face, shutting his eyes for a moment. He felt strangely tranquil as he slipped out of the apartment and back into the dirty sunrise of Las Vegas. It was a bizarre feeling, but he couldn’t shake it.

He probably just needed to sleep, and then he’d forget about it. It was just another day, after all.

Superbia
The sun had just set on the streets of Las Vegas, the sky dyed a deep purple by the very last rays of sunlight. It would have been soothing had Kabuki's body not been electrified, thrumming with anticipation. He held a silver knife in his hand, which was sheathed in the front pocket of his jeans, face set in a hard mask, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, darkened blue eyes glittering maliciously. His face hidden, the blank mask carved in its sharpness, the planes reflected under the lowering lights.

He stalked his way down the street, eyes darting left and right as he stuck to the shadows. He breathed in, and only caught the scent of dirt and sin mixing with the plaster, and he relished the slight tingle that entered his nose and made him slightly lightheaded.

He lived for this.

His next unfortunate victim was a certain Tyler Isabel. Tyler Isabel was an ignorant young man. That could have been easily fixed, had it not been for the prideful arrogance layering his personality. The combination was an explosive and manipulative one and Kabuki felt it needed to be extinguished. He got to his destination, leaning against the doorframe and pressing his back against the wall beside the door as he knocked on it, smirking as he lay in wait for his victim to answer. It was that same old game of cat and mouse and he loved it so much, his inner feline growling and waiting for the kill behind the cage of his chest.

When he heard the rustling of the door being unlocked, he tried hard not to laugh. He even had to bite his own lip to stop himself. When the door was swung open, he moved forward and grinned, and before the other man could protest, he'd forced his way in, shut the door behind him and locked it, throwing the man back and making him trip.

"Wh-what the hell?" the man asked, stumbling over his words already, and Kabuki let loose the laugh he'd been holding in, licking over his bottom lip slowly as he listened to the shifting of the man behind him.

"You… are an arrogant bastard," Kabuki accused in a silky voice, glancing over his shoulder, eyes shining just a bit and he relished the fact that the man was staring at him with wide eyes.

The man was stuttering, and honestly Kabuki was surprised that he wasn't coming back with some witty riposte. Maybe he underestimated him. He had his back turned to the victim, and as he turned he watched a gun being pulled on him. Probably somewhere predictable like a cabinet or something – he didn't care. He raised an eyebrow, genuinely amused at the other man's balls.

"You going to kill me, Tyler?" he asked, his voice echoing around him, but the words were clear enough for the victim to hear, as he heard the distinct clatter of the gun being dropped with quite a bit of force, like the man had been stunned by the question somehow, or maybe he’d knocked into something. He hopped to the left as it went off, and he watched in amusement as the bullet pierced straight through the thin plaster of the wall beside the door. "You're going to have to do better than that," he drawled.

"Who are you?" came Tyler's wavering voice. He found it rather amusing that every single person had asked him that.

"Ever heard of the saying 'God's wrath', Ty?" Kabuki asked, avoiding the question by asking one of his own, eying his victim, who had backed into the small living room, his back hitting the couch. Kabuki's eyes temporarily strayed to it, eying the dark brown fabric, and he frowned, the expression coming out in his voice as he spoke. "It'd be a shame to get blood all over that, now wouldn't it? They'd have to throw it out."

"What are you going on about?" Tyler asked, and Kabuki let out a low, snide laugh at the way the other was speaking: purely pathetic.

"So, you all bravado, Mr. Isabel?" he asked, pulling the knife out, glancing it over with a loving eye. "Care to show me some of that wonderful arrogance you carry in your life?" He spun the blade in his hand, amusement making his eyes glitter a little more, cold and hard jewels in the low light.

Tyler began stuttering again, and Kabuki laughed in a sharp, short burst at the attempts to explain himself, taking a heavy step toward him.
"Okay, let's try this again: ever heard of the saying 'pride comes before the fall' then?" he asked, and Tyler's eyes widened. "Oh, you've heard of that, have you? Are you a Christian, perhaps?"

Tyler's mouth moved in a series of soundless gapes before he was able to speak, in a tiny voice, "I've been r-religious since I-I was a kid." Kabuki chuckled a bit, the sound reverberating and making his ears ring. He licked over his lips.

"So, then you know about the seven deadly sins, yeah?" Kabuki continued in a mock-curious tone, advancing upon his victim, blade out, positioned perfectly in his hand.

Tyler tried to back away further but he only managed to move the couch a few inches before he stopped. Kabuki closed the distance between them, putting his blade between his chin and his chest, pulling out a length of rope and binding the victim's wrists together just in case. "You realize that in Christianity, pride is also known as arrogance?" he asked before grabbing the weapon once more.

Tyler feebly tried to push Kabuki's frame away with his bound hands as he continued to sputter, and his short laughter came in a harsh burst once more, steeling himself against the terrified man and moving his arm up to press the blade of the knife against his neck. He cocked his head to the side a little, looking into wide brown eyes glimmering with tears.

"Are you too afraid to even fight for your own life? Don't you just have so many other accomplishments to set out and achieve?" Kabuki goaded, and he felt another feeble push against his chest, and his laughter came again, riotous and slightly deranged. "You're kidding me! The mighty Tyler Isabel, the most self-important attorney in Vegas is unwilling to fight for his life! Maybe this is a trick!" He pushed away from the man and smirked, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he turned, letting his arms splay out as his sides, still holding the blade.

"Wh—" the victim started, but Kabuki turned and pressed a finger to his lips, making a harsh shushing sound as he did so.

"I think you're trying to make me think you're not going to fight, so that I'll give up and not want to kill you because you're unarmed and powerless," Kabuki remarked, cocking his hip out and bringing the hand with the blade to his chin. "Sorry, bud, that's not going to work."

Tyler's face fell, and Kabuki cackled, brandishing the blade toward the attorney, shaking his head, long hair falling in his face.

"You've got a horrible poker face for being so clever. Don't think you're the only cunning one here, Tyler!" he proclaimed, moving back to pressing his body to the other man's, looking up through his lashes, glittering with a malicious glee. "I'm pretty sure I know how your mind works. Anything to get away, to save your worthless ass. The world doesn't need self-important, self-indulgent men like you."

"They don't need v-vigilantes like you either," Tyler managed to choke out, and Kabuki chuckled, moving the blade back to the curve of his neck, letting it teeter there slightly.

"Yes, maybe that's true, but they need you less, Tyler," Kabuki murmured, his words barely audible as he continued to rock his wrist back and forth. He forced eye contact with the other man, but when it didn't come he shook his head. "Look at me."

"No," came the murmured defiance, and Kabuki's head tilted a little, moving the blade up to Tyler's jaw line, pushing at the bone until he was forced to look up at the killer.

"Are you too much of a chickenshit to look death in the face?" Kabuki challenged, his voice silky and smooth though provoking, eyes glittering as defiance surged once more in those dark irises, and he knew he'd won.

"Never," the attorney spat, and Kabuki's mouth opened. He let out a dramatic sigh. Tyler looked shocked at the face that looked back at him, and he smirked, visible this time as he cocked his head.

"Pride is the first and worst of all sins," the killer started, letting the cold blade slide down Tyler's neck teasingly, eyes staying trained on the other. "Do you acknowledge that you harbor this slight little character flaw?"

Tyler shook his head just enough for Kabuki to get the point, and he laughed again, cackling almost this time as his voice echoed around the room, and he had to wonder if this was a bad enough neighborhood where no one would call the police if a gun sounded like it had from this apartment moments before. He didn't figure so, considering the man he was about to kill was a high-end attorney. Either way, though, he had his ways of escape, namely the shuttered window at their left.

"No, you don't, do you? Believe in yourself too much to ever admit that you think you're better," Kabuki murmured, chuckling a little sardonically to himself. He felt Tyler squirm against him. He moved his hips to force the other further against the couch. "You're not getting away, Ty. Unless you're contrite, and despite how good of a liar you are, I know when you're lying. If you really are, I suggest you start praying."

Tyler began stuttering once more as Kabuki increased the pressure against his neck. "Our Father, wh-who art in Heaven, hallowed b-be thy n-name," he started, and Kabuki laughed once more, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not convinced!" he very nearly sang as he put more pressure against the blade, watching it split skin, a bit of blood trailing down the other's sweating neck, creating a path of red down transparent dew. He relished this sight and then turned his attention back to his praying captive.

"Th-thy kingdom c-come, thy w-will be done, on earth a-as it is in Heaven," Tyler continued to murmur, stuttering over the words, and Kabuki lunged forward as he laughed harshly, straight in his face.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from Evil," Kabuki jumped ahead a few lines as he mocked the other man, but he didn't care. "I don't believe you would willingly humble yourself in front of thousands of people just to prove that you're contrite, and that you're not the self-important jackass I know you are."

"P-please," Tyler stammered once more, and Kabuki looked into his eyes, looked hard and deep, searching. He saw cunning wit, and a desire for survival, but for all the wrong reasons. He didn't see desperation and willingness to change. He didn't see anything he should have, and so he shook his head slowly, sorrowfully.

"You'd do or say anything to save your sorry ass," the killer murmured, cocking his head to the side a little, watching the man's eyes closely, watching them widen in shock and fear as he declared, "You… have been judged."

His voice was authoritative, and was a simple prelude to the symphony of a blade running through flesh like butter, melting it and splicing it all the same.

Where there had just been a simple trail of blood became a shower as Kabuki ripped his arm to the right, the blade slicing straight through Tyler's throat, the liquid staining his torso and trailing down in little rivulets down his face.

The cut created a thin line in the flesh, but the spray was shocking at first, and he was tempted to step away. He bathed in the sound of Tyler's choked yell, however. It was the last call toward God before judgment. God's wrath, however, was the only reason he knew he could get away with what he was doing. Wrath was retribution, and he was its vigilante, tied not to God but to vengeance.

He heard Tyler choking on his own blood at this point, and he did step away, watching him slide to the ground in a hapless heap, his hands going to his neck, staining both the flesh and the rope, clawing desperately at the wound. All Kabuki did was watch.

He looked on as Tyler's body went through spasms, coughing up blood so fiercely it bubbled out his open and gasping mouth and trailed down his cheeks. His eyes were wild and finally desperate as he watched Kabuki just staring at him, utterly, raptly fascinated.

When his victim was lying prone on the floor, his eyes finally going dead, he knelt beside the body, dipping two fingers into the sticky, sanguine elixir of life, glancing at the couch before the wall. He pondered a moment before finally deciding on exactly what he wanted to do, watching the way the blood seemed to gleam on his smooth fingertips, blissfully void of all prints.

He went back and forth between the wall and Tyler's body, using his fingers as a paintbrush as he marked the words "Pride comes before the fall" on the wall beside the bullet hole that the other had created in the wall.

With that, he felt satisfied with his work, he licked over his lips and tasted blood. He smirked a bit once more, one corner of his lips quirking up as he did so. He glanced around, knowing that someone would have heard the awfully poetic sound Tyler had just made.

He made his way over to the window and pushed it open, finding an alley below it. Perfect. He pushed it open and slid out, balancing on the scaffolding before he found a drainpipe to climb down. It was dark enough for him to pull this off, and soon he was back on the street once more, sticking to the shadows, walking stealthily as he watched people rushing the other way.

It didn't take long for anyone to find Tyler Isabel, and that was the way Kabuki liked it. In fact, he’d barely left the neighborhood before ambulances roared through the quiet streets. He wasn't one for tabloids, though he had been dubbed the 'Sins Killer' with four connected murders under his belt, which was ridiculously clever of them, considering his moral code.

He was a silent killer, and he'd do what he did best again.

Kabuki Scarlet

2009-01-26T09:29:14Z

jadegates @ 2009-01-12T18:49:00

2009-01-13T03:03:38Z

Working Title: Kabuki Scarlet
Rating: Overall, NC-17
Summary: Born into sin, James Aldaine was different from his family, and he made sure the world knew it, setting the differences so far as life and death. Years later, as Kabuki Scarlet, he roams the streets, searching for the individuals rife with sin, and skillfully destroying them. He is strict, cold, and methodical, spouting dogma that rings only too true, and showing his face only to the ones about to die. What, if anything, can alter this intelligent madman’s ways, and how far will some be willing to go to change him?
Genre: Crime, Dark, Death, Drama, Erotica, Horror, Murder, Novel, Strange, Third person.

Prologue | Inception

Gula
It was two years before Kabuki felt it safe to mingle in the real world once more. When he did, he encountered a man. He had been shocked into silence that such a man was actually out and walking around, what with his berth. He followed the man silently, noticing that the people around him were mocking them behind their hands, snickering at him. He was just that sickening.

This was Eddie. Eddie Jackson was twenty-seven and overweight. Freakishly overweight. He reveled in excess. It was his life.

Kabuki followed him home after weeks of following him everywhere else. He’d continually burned his fingerprints off, so he was untraceable unless his long hair got caught somewhere. He had it meticulously pulled back, though. He’d adopted a white plaster kabuki mask that he wore, and he’d slid over his features before he followed the obese man back to his house. Everything was meticulous.

He swiftly picked the lock and walked in on a scene that made him recoil behind the mask. Eddie was sitting at his dining room table, feasting upon a succulent piece of steak. He was using his hands to pull apart the meat instead of being civilized and using a fork and knife. The juice was all over his pudgy face and dripping down one of three chins. A bottle of dark draft beer leered over the plate, tipping and seemingly wanting to be sick from the gluttony of it all, willing to spill its contents in revulsion.

His elbow connected with the back of Eddie’s head with a sickening crack, sending the table across the room and the large man onto the floor. There was a rather pig-like grunt from the victim, and Kabuki quirked an eyebrow under the façade. Yes, he’d picked his victim quite well.

“Who the hell are you, man?” Eddie whimpered, scrambling away as Kabuki came closer, and he was sure his laughter didn’t reach past the plaster wall of the mask. He breathed in the plaster and the scent of fear and he loved the mixture.

“You can call me Judgment, for that is what I am,” Kabuki said, kneeling down next to Eddie, whose eyes were bulging out in fear. “You make me sick.” The words were a flash of heat in the calm façade as he drew his hand back and slapped Eddie across the face, making the man’s chin touch his shoulder with a grunt. Maybe he thought it’d knock some sense into the guy. It stunned him; that was for sure.

Without another word, Kabuki stood and walked into the kitchen and pulled out a butcher’s knife. When the knife’s handle settled in his palm, he slid the mask up and off, revealing a face that seemed cut from porcelain. High cheekbones contradicted a heart-shaped face, the images of heaven and hell warring with insanity in his eyes like two aquamarine chips of ice.

He curled his fingers around the hilt possessively as he turned in time to see Eddie attempting to push his girth off the ground. His arms bulged, the muscles trying to fight past the layer of fat. He laughed at it as a surge of amusement warmed him from the inside out, shaking his head and stepping closer. Eddie was like a caged rat, all strain and nowhere to go. His own body was his cage. The man finally got himself off the ground and onto the nearest piece of furniture he could get to: the couch. It was upholstered in a dark mustard yellow that was rather disgusting, but it seemed to fit.

“Do you know what gluttony means, by chance?” Kabuki asked in a calm voice, walking over to the couch and settling on the armchair, tracing the tip of the blade down Eddie’s jaw, watching the way the skin split under his hand. Eddie shook his head fervently. “It’s simply excessive eating and drinking, and in my opinion, it’s fucking disgusting. It’s also one of the seven deadly sins and just so happens to be the one that you are guilty of.”

“You-you’re…” Eddie stammered, but Kabuki cut him off by holding his hand up with a smirk, rolling his eyes.

“I know I’m crazy. No need to point out the obvious.” Kabuki chuckled a little and ran the blade next to the laceration he’d made, creating another scratch parallel. Eddie jerked away from it and it cut deeper into his cheek. Kabuki just shook his head, grinning and exposing even, white teeth that glittered just like his eyes. “Fear me.”

With those two words echoing in a whisper, Kabuki dipped his hand down and dragged the knife slowly over Eddie’s neck, watching the skin split and where he thought it might have just ‘bled’ fat, dark red blood poured from the wound. He watched the sick waterfall for a moment before he heard a gurgling gasp and he looked up, lifting an eyebrow in mocking question.

“Please,” he rasped, and Kabuki moved to straddle Eddie on the chair, knees holding him in place suggestively, though there was no intent behind his embrace. Kabuki chuckled and shook his head, a wisp of hair threatening to fall.

“Please what?” Kabuki urged in a whisper as the man tried to get away; enjoying this little game they were playing. It was all a game. His head tilted, and his eyes glittered. The knife was poised against his flesh, ready and aching to carve into the flesh.

“You’ve had your fun; I get it, but please, just let me live.” Eddie’s voice was pathetic and desperate, threadbare at best.

“Oh, you are something else. You get it? Would you really change your ways, merely because your life is in question? Would you give up your indulgences and give moderation a try? Do you have that self-control, Eddie?” The look in his eyes answered it, the drunken sheen permanently attached to his irises told him differently than the slow nod and the sobering streak of pain. He repeated himself in a whisper, watching the eyes beneath him widen in fear, though whether of death or of controlling himself, he couldn’t quite be sure – that was a better answer than the first, anyway. “Didn’t think so.”

Kabuki positioned the blade at the hollow of Eddie’s throat and pressed down, the tip penetrating the skin. First, he carved out a piece of the skin of his captive’s neck, curling his hand around it and holding it up in front of him with a smirk. It barely filled the hollow of his palm, the sick flesh stained pink and bleeding down the crest of his hand. “Moderation is key,” he told Eddie with a twisted sort of smirk, and the victim’s eyes widened in fear even more so than before, and he just chuckled a little, dropping the chunk of flesh onto the ground with a wet thud.

He repositioned the knife and dragged it down, the skin and muscle breaking like strings under his pressing hand. He reached up, wrapped both hands around the hilt and forced the knife down, splitting his chest open. The blood gushed over his hands, staining the pale skin a deep, ruddy color. The stickiness was almost unbearable it was so pleasant, and he watched the way the light drained from Eddie’s eyes with rapt interest.

“Goodbye,” was all he said to his unfortunate victim, watching his narrow eyes flicker and finally turn to stone. The blood that was on his hands and on his clothing had stolen the life right out of the man’s eyes and his body. He couldn’t help but feel a sick surge of satisfaction go through him as he felt the man go lax under him.

He reached his hand down and broke two ribs that seemed brittle now to get to the heart that was still by this time, though it had been frantic when he’d been cutting open the man’s chest. He yanked it out, severing all connections with one quick swipe of the blade. He held it almost protectively in his hand, looking from the organ to its previous owner.

“It looks really unhealthy. Really bad,” Kabuki said softly more to himself because he wasn’t crazy enough to talk to a dead man. He chuckled, crushing the organ between his fingertips in a surprisingly strong grip for one so small, blood splattering his face, his black jumpsuit and his hands.

He smirked to himself; walking into the kitchen, he grabbed his mask from the table. After looking at the pure white contours marred by drying blood spatters, he slipped it on again. He left smudges on the sink’s handle as he washed his hands, but they were merely smudges, nothing more. No discernible fingerprints were left behind. He hadn’t bothered to wash his face, since the mask covered it anyway. He only took the mask off when he killed his victims anyway.

Kabuki looked around, having a bit of time to think before the authorities were alerted because of the sounds Eddie had made. What could dress this place up a bit? What would be good to leave his mark? He’d started the tradition with his lovely family; why not continue it? He glanced down at the heart, and an idea clicked in his mind.

He walked to the kitchen, searching for hamburger buns, finding them on top of the refrigerator. He pulled one out, stuck the heart between the two halves. He thought a moment, and then went to wet his fingers with some of the blood that was pouring out of the dead victim. He went into the kitchen and wrote the word hungry? on the tile of the counter. He grinned and walked away from it, toward the back door, leaving the scene perfectly.

He slipped out the back, just as he heard sirens in the distance. Someone had called the cops because of the sounds, of course. Anything for a bit of excitement. He walked down the back alley, and no one was any the wiser to what he just did.

He lingered in an alleyway after a moment, idly noting that they were man’s most dangerous invention. He stepped out after the police had done their jobs, his own steps echoing in his head as he walked down the dingy Vegas streets.

He looked around, sharply taking in the details of the nightlife around him. The little lights came alive in his eyes, danced along the streets with the people, grinning and calling to him with misled requests. His fingers lightly touched the stony wall of an abandoned building as he walked past it, the gaps of the alleys marking his way.

Simply, Kabuki loved his life, and saw no reason not to. He would have rather been killing people for his own vengeance, to kill a part of himself in others he couldn’t kill in himself than to wallow in his own misery. His life was but a half-life, and he was a slave to his divine retribution. For all intents and purposes, James Aldaine, Jr. was dead. He was Kabuki now.

He disappeared into the night, and no one knew who had killed Eddie Jackson. The gruesome scene was surely confusing, but no one had the answers. He went on as the silent killer he was, his legacy dropping many more carcasses and even more questions. If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll tell you more of what I know.

Luxuria
Kabuki encountered some interesting people, I can tell you that much for certain. He was a watcher, spying upon humanity but never really living in it. He rarely slept, never really ate until his body forced him to so he could keep up his strength, and he had no contact with others. He was completely isolated but that was the way he liked it for the most part.

Watching one day, he came upon a woman with thick blonde curls and a wicked little smile with a hint of seduction to it. Her eyes were dark and tempting, but thank God the expression wasn’t directed to him; he might have been sick just from the look of it. He watched the way she brought men back to a small apartment complex, following her as she led them on with strategic touches to one place or another, a shy giggle and a coy nature as well as a promise of satisfaction that was at most, half-ass.

He later learned that this woman’s name was Marie Veridan and she was, to put it crudely, a slut. She fucked purely for the pleasure, never keeping to one guy, rather enjoying playing with their bodies and shooting them down when attachments threatened to arise. She never let them fall in love with her and God forbid she fall for them, because that would ruin her little game, wouldn’t it? She lived for the shattering feel of orgasm, often ignoring others’ pleasures in favor of her own. As much as men would have loved to see her on her knees, she never knelt that far. He didn’t have to watch her pornography to know that, because he never did. He could guess and that was all he was willing to do. Anything else would be grossly perverse to him.

The sun was low in the sky, lending a crimson feel to the sky when Kabuki finally let her catch him in her trap, lingering like bait. It seemed sometimes she had a taste for the occult, for freaks with painted faces and emotionless masks like him. She sometimes liked to hurt, and it helped her achieve a more powerful orgasm, or so he assumed. That Kabuki supposed he could relate to, but either way it was a bit demented, wasn’t it?

She purred a greeting to him, standing in front of him in a deep red, silk bikini top and a short skirt that could have worked as a postage stamp instead, flashing more skin than he really wanted to see. He eyed her anyway as he leaned against one of the many walls that littered the streets of downtown Vegas, and acting like he’d been surprised by her attentions he turned his head, smiling wickedly under the mask but it didn’t reach his cold, steely eyes. He kept contact with hers, his silence seeming to set some kind of resolve in her as she let her fingers brush up his thigh. He let out a throaty chuckle.

“What?” was all he said in a low, level voice that barely permeated the shield of the mask, but he laughed lowly again when he felt her fingers lace with his, tugging him straight and leading him back to that same sordid apartment without a single word exchanged. He complied silently, loving how she was just falling into his trap without question. It seemed she was under the impression she got what she wanted no matter what, but he’d prove her wrong. In fact, he was looking forward to it.

Kabuki said nothing as Marie led him up the stairs, her spiked black heels clacking on the wood as she stepped carelessly, his combat boots making a heavy, precise echo behind her as he curled his fingers against hers. A thrill went through him: cat and mouse, that was all this was. She was the mouse and he was the cat, all intelligence and malice. The ignorant little mouse was leading the feline in him, all the while feeling like she was in complete control. Effortless.

Marie unlocked the door to her small apartment with ease, slipping in and pulling Kabuki in with her. She pulled her body to his and reached up, stroking the blank contours of his mask, a slight pout coming to her glossed lips.

“Will you take this off?” she asked, her voice silky but heated unlike his own, and he smirked behind the façade, barely noticing the way her curves felt against his body. He was far from interested in that.

“Sure,” he murmured, reaching up and sliding the mask off his face, letting it fall onto the table beside the door. He jerked away from her fingers when she touched his face and instead reached between them and grabbed both her wrists, gripping them lightly. “I’m calling the shots here.”

Marie’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes turned molten with desire. “Okay.” Her assent was nothing more than a breathy whisper as she buckled under him, allowing herself to be led into the bedroom and falling back limply onto the bed. “Handcuffs are in the bedside drawer if you wanna tie me up,” she told him with a coy little smile. He smirked visibly this time and pushed her thighs apart with one of his knees. She complied easily.

“I’ll keep that in mind. You like to hurt, right?” Kabuki asked, his voice not moving above a cold, even whisper, but the way she reacted, he could have been saying them in the most heated whisper he could have mustered. Her back arched as a moan of pure pleasure ripped from her throat, her shimmering lips parting as her eyes fluttered shut. He took two pairs of handcuffs from the bedside table and locked her up. She had a four-poster bed probably just for this kind of kinky shit, so he attached one wrist and then the other to the wood, making sure she couldn’t jerk away. He felt the way her body began to arch against him, begging for more.

“Yes,” she breathed, her lips barely moved as her hips bucked up into him. The friction made him recoil inside but he kept his physical body pressed against Marie’s, feeling the way she seemed to yearn for it.

“Good.” His response was vindictive as he slid his hand into his front pocket, withdrawing an ornate little dagger in a jewel-encrusted sheath. He wasn’t quite sure where he got it, but he knew it was sharp. He thumbed off the sheath and heard it drop with a thump on the mattress. He pressed the wicked tip against Marie’s sternum and dragged the blade down, cutting both her skin and the bikini top, the two parts falling to the wayside and exposing the soft curvature of her breasts, nipples distended and aching for touch.

He glanced at her, seeing that her eyes were shut and she was breathing heavily. He moved the dagger back up and touched the tip to her nipple, watching the way she winced and tried to shift away, but he only pressed harder, the sensitive skin ripping under the pressure. The dark blood welled up in the cut and rolled down the mound of flesh as her breathing increased and grew frantic. His heart rate picked up much the same as he watched it, the thrill electrifying him from the inside out. He was starting to lightly carve the word ‘luxuria’ across her chest with lazy strokes of the dagger.

“What are you doing?” she panted, her voice distressed, and he only chuckled a little, pulling the dagger back and gripping it lightly. Her bound hands had curled into tight fists as she winced in pain, trying to move away from him though she was trapped. He pressed his knee up against her core, feeling her squirm against him, caught between the pain and the pleasure of the friction he was confusing her with.

“Hurting you, like you wanted. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice mockingly innocent before he scoffed and shook his head as she did the same. “Oh, you thought it would be pleasurable, then? No, not everything revolves around your lust, Marie, as much as you try to focus your life on it. You should be careful who you try and seduce.”

“Who are you?” Marie whimpered, shifting under him and trying to gain more of the friction and less of the pain, and Kabuki barked a harsh laugh, lifting an eyebrow effortlessly.

“The only name I can give you is Judgment,” he murmured, shifting just enough back to create more friction as he slowly dragged his dagger down her body, looking down just in time to see more of the sticky red blood well in the definition of her hips. He leaned in as if to talk dirty to her, his voice a husky mumble. “Lust is defined as an immoderate desire for the flesh of another, but it’s more than that. You’re addicted to the feeling of orgasm and that’s why you do it, hm?” As he spoke, he stroked one finger against the most sensitive button Marie had, the sensations evoking a violent confusion in her. He watched with great pleasure the way she arched her back and pushed her hips up into him. “And you’re not even listening to me.”

Kabuki smirked and swiped the blade down to her groin. One quick shift and the expression of pleasure on her face quickly turned to pain and she broke into a scream halfway through a moan, her entire body seizing up as she began to bleed on him from her core, hips bucking down for another reason this time. He felt the gush of her life stream spilling onto his hands. The soft fluff covering the juncture of her thighs was soaked with crimson instead of strawberry blonde, and her bottom lip split between her teeth as she let out a pained whimper.

“Now that I’ve got your attention,” he drawled with a smirk, positioning the sharp end of the dagger at her slick entrance, “I’m going to show you just exactly how you’re going to die at the hand of your sin.”

Marie’s eyes flashed confusion and Kabuki’s flashed red as he thrust the dagger as far into her as he could, the sound wet and sick and oh so satisfying. Her scream split the air and he exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes into the back of his head as he reveled in the sound, pulling the blade out and thrusting it in again, making a new sheath out of the flesh; he loved the way it gave under his force.

“Don’t you like it, Marie? Doesn’t it feel so good to be fucked to death?” he asked in a heated mutter against the side of her face, and she whimpered again, her body buckling as he pushed the knife in harder still, cutting up her organs from the outside in.

The way she felt under him was nearly erotic without the heat behind the motivation. It was a removed pleasure, a fascination with the way her body moved beneath his, straining to get away but caught like the mouse in the trap.

Soon, her soft whimpering noises faded and he knew she was dead. Her skin was icy cold but the blood that had split over him was still wet and red and lukewarm. He pulled away, leaving the dagger in its new, gory sheath. He looked to his hands, noting they were stained red, and he grinned. Perfect for his little calling card, which he scrawled on the wall in her blood: She begged for it, and enjoyed it until the end. He had to wonder, as he painted, if and when they’d connect Lust to Gluttony. Maybe he’d have to drop a couple more hints for them to get the fucking point.

No one paid attention to the screaming from Marie’s apartment because maybe it was normal. Either way, Kabuki slipped out without an eyebrow raised. He had to imagine it was one of her many lovers who found her prostrate and rotting on her shrine, and the thought was, if nothing else, amusing.

New novel. I'm lazy and just posting it here.

2009-01-12T09:00:47Z

Some of you may know this from my writing journal, but I'm reworking it. XD

Working Title: Kabuki Scarlet
Rating: Overall, NC-17
Summary: Born into sin, James Aldaine was different from his family, and he made sure the world knew it, setting the differences so far as life and death. Years later, as Kabuki Scarlet, he roams the streets, searching for the individuals rife with sin, and skillfully destroying them. He is strict, cold, and methodical, spouting dogma that rings only too true, and showing his face only to the ones about to die. What, if anything, can alter this intelligent madman’s ways, and how far will some be willing to go to change him?
Genre: Crime, Dark, Death, Drama, Erotica, Horror, Murder, Novel, Strange, Third person.

Prologue
The night was dark, thick with foreboding. The dusk was heavy, a profound sense of depth present as a small shadow skittered across the alleyway, darting out of the light just as soon as the eye could catch the movement, raising wonder if it’d been seen it at all. It was a flitter, like something you’d catch out of the corner of your eye.

The shadow was a man, or the shadow of a man if you will. Kabuki Scarlet was an ‘evil’ man, though evil is a relative term. In society’s terms he might have been defined as wicked, malevolent, or even immoral, but he did what he felt is right. He almost never showed his face, only a blood stained kabuki mask. That was why he earned his name. See, Kabuki was labeled as a serial killer, but it was for all the right reasons.

I’m going to tell you his story. It probably started with Dante Alighieri in the 1300’s, when he wrote ‘Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate’ or ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here’ as the gateway to Hell. Out of this literature was born this man who was no longer a man. Out of this was born Kabuki Scarlet, the punisher of all who wrong the world with their sins of excess, or lack thereof. You know the ones. You see them every day, reaping the world with their lust, pride, envy, wrath, sloth, greed, and gluttony.

He liked to taunt people, and stalk them before he killed them. He was patient, but liked to toss a bit of creativity around once in a while. He loved to play with them, play with their minds. He loved seeing them suffer. There was something beautiful about suffering to him.

He followed the seven deadly sins. There was no religious belief behind his intent, merely an all-consuming need to rid the world of this kind of malevolence. Sometimes, evil must be fought with a different breed of evil. He targeted people with these sins in excess; he tried to make the world a better place for people, though his acts may seem foolish or even clownish. Do not mock him, laugh or overlook his message.

These are the Seven Deadly Sins, as defined by many writers, and originally, the Roman Catholic Church, but Kabuki paid little mind to the religious aspect of it. He cared about what these things, these festering sores that dared to call themselves humans were doing to the world. They ruined a life like his, corrupted him, and turned him into a man who fought so no one else would have to endure what he did as a child. He knew he was guilty of wrath, a deadly sin, but he did not use it on punishment toward innocent people; it was punishment for the people who made the world the sordid place that it has become. Some defined wrath as divine retribution for sin; in this ideal he believed in first and foremost, above anything else he could even hope to live for.

You ask how I know so much? Keep with me through this tale, and you’ll find out.

Inception
Kabuki Scarlet had always been a killer – James Aldaine, Jr., however, had not. He was a quiet child with long, dark hair and no friends that no one picked on because they were afraid. There had been only one time in biology class, and he’d pulled a scalpel on a boy who was picking on him for his pale skin and blank expression. With the same expressionless look he threatened to kill the young man, but somewhere he knew he couldn’t do it. Yet.

That same year he took a history class that required a research paper on an old piece of world literature. The teacher assigned each person an old piece of literature, and James got The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. After reading the Cantos, he became fascinated with what would send a person to hell and the sins that accompanied them, condemned them. It was safe to say he became obsessed, becoming obsessed with death at the same time. Not his own death, of course, but the death of others. He began fantasizing about the different punishments that awaited the wicked, and after school he started researching writers of the Seven Deadliest. He also started researching poisons for little reason other than his own amusement, excepting the fact that he’d thought it would be an ironic way to get rid of his brother. Strychnine was the one that caught his attention, and it didn’t seem too hard to find – it seemed common in everyday rat poison.

When he came home that day, his father, James Sr., jumped on him. “Where the hell have you been?” the older man barked, dark eyes burning with rage, and James just looked at him with a calm, quizzical look that was quickly slapped off his face. His chin hit his shoulder as the crack of skin on skin echoed around the kitchen, but he didn’t wince nor did he change his expression. His eyes had only shut because he was harnessing the pain as he’d learned to do over the years. He’d had to.

“At the library,” was James’ impassive response as he turned his head and leveled his eyes with his father’s, watching the way the flames burned in the older man’s eyes, and his own narrowed, a surge of the same heating his body from the inside out. He’d recently turned eighteen, and the entity in his mind known as Kabuki Scarlet was becoming strong, so strong that he was more than ready to shed his father’s name for one of his own.

“What the fuck were you doin’ at the library, boy? I got you a new job and you shoulda been there an hour ago.” James could feel the spittle flying from his father’s mouth splattering gracelessly on his face, and his nose wrinkled in delicate distaste as he kept his clear blue eyes focused on the mossy green of his father’s.

“I’ve got my own agenda.” James’ voice was like a pan of water on a stove. It started out cold until the heat permeated it, and soon it was so hot it was boiling over. The heat in his last five words was searing and it seemed to have stung his father without a single strike thrown.

“Oh yeah? And what does that entail, little boy?” If James’ voice was boiling water, his father’s was acid attempting to eat at the skin that refused to bend under his will, even as an angry red handprint was flushing under the force of the man’s previous hit.

“Not working for you, that’s for sure.” His voice was deadpan, and it went almost unnoticed, the change. One second he was James Aldaine, Jr., and the next he was Kabuki Scarlet. “You’re sick, you know that?” His voice was a little deeper, a bit harsher and not so impassive. His eyes flickered with a controlled rage, mainly because of their color.

“And you’re a good-for-nothin’ screwup!” his father spat right back in his face, but all Kabuki did was lift a delicate eyebrow and cock his head to the side, completely unfazed.

“No, I’m not. You are,” Kabuki replied evenly, watching the way the rage colored the man’s face red until he let out a yell that was fit to break windows, and all he did was smirk.

“You’re such a cocky little shit,” his father spat, and Kabuki barked out a laugh, dropping his books to the ground just to test his father’s limits. The man grew more and more livid by the moment. Kabuki slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans and slid out the same scalpel he’d threatened the boy at school with, stepping closer to his father and arcing the blade against his neck, pressing just enough for a thin trail of blood to spring from a minute wound.

“You listen to me, and you listen good,” he hissed, and his father’s eyes widened. His jaw moved like he was going to say something, and Kabuki pressed the small blade harder against the skin. That shut the man up. “You don’t talk. You fuckin’ listen. I’m not the cocky little shit; you are. You’re a greedy son of a bitch, and you know what happens to greedy people? They get condemned to charge at other greedy motherfuckers with boulders all day, every day for eternity. You’ve also got a hell of a temper, and that’s called wrath. What they do to the wrathful is rather interesting, actually – they spend eternity fighting with each other. Fitting, huh?”

“What… are you going on about?” his father struggled to speak, and Kabuki let out a low, amused laugh.

“Hell, Father. I’m talking… about Hell,” he spoke in a low, quiet voice, the tone not extending past the small space between the two of them. His voice was cold, like black silk. “That’s where the sinners go, and you… you’re a sinner, aren’t you? Taking your wrath out on poor, innocent children, hoarding your money and lying to get more of it. Yeah, man, you’re a sinner.”

As he spoke, Kabuki’s hand slid to the counter behind his father, lithe and gloved fingers grasping a simple, serrated kitchen knife that glittered in the corner of his eye. He gripped it, and when his father started to speak, he shut him up.

By shoving the knife into his stomach. The way it went into the flesh was like butter, the soft tissue giving almost instantly. His father buckled and made an emasculating squeaking sound as Kabuki yanked his hand up and ripped a large hole in the man’s abdomen. His hands were soon dark red and sticky under the gloves as he stepped back, the front of his dark jeans stained black. He watched with removed amusement as his father’s torso fell forward, body curling into itself as he tumbled to the ground, starting to bleed out over the tiles.

"That’s what you get," he murmured, watching blankly as the life bled out of his father’s face. He knelt down right before the light went out upstairs, gripping his hair and the knife’s handle at the same time. "Wrath ends only in bloodshed, didn’t you know that? I’m not sorry it ended this way." He threw the prone skull down, hearing it crack against the linoleum as he stood, ripping the blade out of the flesh. The dark blood crept over the tiles, and he watched fascinated for a moment. The blood was making some kind of strange shape on the tiles, following the squares and creating a dysphoric mosaic piece. A masterpiece.

“What’s going on in there?” came the lazy drawl of his mother, whom he normally just called Elaine, from the living room, and Kabuki barely batted an eyelash, as he took slow, methodical steps toward the recliner that his mother never left. She, as it was, was guilty of the sin of sloth. She was lazy and indolent – she turned a blind eye to whatever James Sr. did to his child.

“Nothing,” Kabuki answered her, shifting the knife’s handle against the palm of his hand. His steps were quiet, stealthy as he walked closer, grabbing the remote out of Elaine’s hand and flicking the television off. The conflict television show disappeared from the flat-screen TV, and the air fell silent for a moment. Not for long, though, for he knew Elaine would say something stupid and break the silence.

“What’d you do that for?” she asked, a tinge of a whine to her voice, and Kabuki fought not to laugh because he’d called it, going so far as to bite his plump lower lip and worry his front teeth over it. He stepped behind the chair and settled the blade at Elaine’s exposed throat as she looked up at him, not even blinking as he ran it across her skin, making a yawning, bleeding hole that shifted as she frantically tried to breathe, the sanguine rivulets staining her floral print shirt bright red. The blood came out in a spurt as she exhaled, hitting the TV with a sick sense of irony. All he did was quirk up his lips into a slightly malicious expression – that was probably the last thing she saw, and some surge of satisfaction came out of that thought. The blade was stained as he pulled it away, and he chuckled a bit, licking over his lips.

Walking away silently, he dropped the blade by the recliner. No fingerprints were left because of the gloves he’d slipped on that morning when the wind nipped his pale fingers and made them ache. It was mid-November so it got generally cold in Las Vegas, though it would have been considered tepid to most. It was a lucky decision to keep the gloves on his hands when he’d confronted his father, he couldn’t help but think with a small grin. He did pull them off as he walked back into the kitchen, though he shoved them into the pocket of his jeans, walking to the sink and turning it on with his elbow, rubbing the blood off his skin as the warm water hit his hands. The water was pink for a moment until it ran clear and only then did he pull away and walk to the refrigerator.

He pulled it open and grabbed a small double-layer cake that his brother had bought the week before with his shirt over his hands, settling it on the counter before going down on one knee, pulling out the powdered rat poison that was in the darkness of the cabinet. He put his hand under his shirt again and grabbed the bottle, pulling it out and prying the two layers apart after putting it down. He sprinkled a copious of the bitter powder in the middle of the cake before putting it back where it belonged. He gingerly picked up the cake without the plate and covered his fingers with the sweet icing, making sure he hadn’t touched it before. It sat quietly on the counter as he made his way up to his older brother, Kevin’s bedroom. He was ridiculously meticulous about the whole thing, and it seemed he’d fallen into some kind of… mindless routine.

There was only one word that Kabuki could think of for what Kevin was doing to the pizza he was hoarding: defiling. He was gluttonous, but his irony was that he was envious of him. Kabuki couldn’t think of why he was – his life wasn’t so grand. Maybe it was how he looked. People called him the china doll of the family, the innocence, which wasn’t true in the slightest, but they were looking on the surface, not deeper into his maddened eyes.

“What do you want?” Kevin’s voice was muffled because he had a bite of the pizza in his mouth. His cheeks were distended and bloated as he chewed roughly, swallowing with a squishing sound that Kabuki fought not to recoil from.

“To offer a peace.” Kabuki’s voice was saccharine as he stepped into the mess, hit by a wall of the most foul smell he’d ever caught in his life. He fought not to retch, but he was spared as Kevin snatched the sweet treat from him and dismissed him by turning and beginning to devour the thing without even so much as a fork. Kabuki nodded and stepped out of the room, looking sickened as he kicked the door shut behind him.

He had complete faith and confidence that fifteen minutes later he’d hear the gasping sounds of respiratory failure from the young man’s room.

Kabuki went to his small bedroom and pulled out another pair of black gloves, sliding them on. They were lighter than the first pair, silky to the touch whereas the first pair was wooly and warm, soaking up the blood easily. These gloves weren’t meant for soaking up blood but for teasing. He had a wicked idea in mind for his sister.

Kabuki stepped out into the upstairs hallway and heard the gasping and retching sounds from his brother’s room, and he smirked a little, moving to lean against his sister’s doorframe. He listened closely, the rasping sounds lighting some kind of fire under his skin. The sound was almost musical and he liked that, the way Kevin struggled to breathe. He listened as it grew weaker and heard the soft thud of the young man’s body caving in on itself and falling to the floor. He heard his sister's kitten heels clacking against the hardwood stairs, and he tapped his fingertips together with a low hum.

“What are you doing here?” That was Annabelle’s version of a greeting, and for once it didn’t faze the young man. In fact, he cocked his head to the side a little and shrugged.

“Giving you what you want,” he simply said. Annabelle gave him a suspicious look for a moment, but eventually gave in. She had a habit of coming onto her younger brother, trying to tempt him with her supposed seductive ways. He had no idea what the men that followed after her saw in her. Her black heart was that way because of a dangerous cocktail of lust and vanity. She valued herself above all else, sex only second in her catacomb of desire. She stepped closer to him, their lips barely touching, but Kabuki stepped back and waved her into her bedroom, simply silently pointing to the bed.

She scrambled with as much grace as she could muster – which wasn’t much – and crawled onto the bed, trying to impress him it seemed. He merely rolled his eyes, sliding his fingers under one of the many mirrors surrounding her bed, quietly breaking off a piece and gripping it as he crawled onto the bed. He pinned her down, all hips and thighs. He heard her moan but somehow fought not to draw back from the sound.

Oh, the queen of lust and pride, bent to his will, giving into him. He loved watching it as she writhed beneath his touch, though he wasn’t turned on in the slightest. He cut her short skirt and thin camisole top off, the fabric ripping carelessly under the sharp edge of the mirror, exposing her undulating body, all ribs and jagged hipbones under pallid skin. Her thong was cut easily, the thin straps n longer holding the patch of silky cloth together. This exposed her core, wet and ready for him.

Little did she know he had no intentions of taking it that far. Kabuki swept his hand down and brushed the jagged end of the mirror against the sensitive skin, and she screamed as it split, blood rushing over his gloved hands and onto the bed sheets. He slapped his hand over her mouth and watched her struggle, fear entering her darkened eyes. He felt her mouth what are you doing? and what do you want? against his hand. He chuckled low and dark, sliding the edge over her skin once more, hearing her buck against him. Her hand moved up and gripped his bicep, and he dropped the mirror between her legs.

“To break every bone in your ugly little body,” he muttered, spite in his voice as he gripped her wrist and pressed down, the loud snap of her carpals buckling and breaking under his thumb. They were like sticks under the pressure, the way they gave and gave and bent until they snapped, and he felt the way her body jerked when the pain finally reached her synapses. She screamed again, back arching as her face contorted in pain. A pathetic whimper ripped from her throat and he felt no mercy. “You’re not better than me.”

Kabuki didn’t let her speak again as he reached up, grabbing her jaw with one hand, the back of her head with the other. He felt her struggling under him but he ended that swiftly. He twisted her head, and the echo of her neck snapping permeated the quiet, cold room around him. Her head fell back as she fell limp beneath him, her eyes glazed over with confusion and terror at how quickly her life had ended. He felt no remorse, only contentment as he pulled himself away from her, watching the bleeding slow from the juncture of her thighs to the bed sheets, as he spat, “You’re disgusting. I never would have slept with you. Whore.”

He ran away into the burning Nevada sky after burning both pairs of gloves on the stove, leaving a message on the driveway from the ashes of the small fire: They were the worst at what they did and got treated like they should have.

He’d found an old abandoned mansion halfway across Las Vegas and he’d emptied his father’s bank accounts, so he hadn’t had to find a living or anything of the sort. He was sure they were on the lookout for him, because he was of course the prime suspect for the murders, but he was laying low and soon the case was dropped. It started quite the trend, or so it seemed.

This was the inception of Kabuki Scarlet.

Found this somewhere so...

2008-09-16T04:46:43Z

One little compliment can make you feel amazing. So give me a compliment, anything in the entire world, even that my shoelaces are pretty. Put this in your journal. And once you get some comments, put that entry in a memory or tag and when you are feeling down, just go to that entry and this will remind that you're not so bad in other people's eyes after all.

RPG ad

2008-07-24T01:02:18Z

Casa del Syn

Brian Haner was merely a lowly bartender, working in small bars and clubs for minimal pay to get through college. When his father died, he was given a large inheritence, as his father was a rather well-known studio guitarist. Instead of spending his money on material things such as cars and such, he decided to drop out of school and begin a monopoly. He had an idea, and it had been festering ever since he'd visited Las Vegas for the first time. He had envisioned a decadent casino, with an open bar, and entertainment right there, dancers out on display for anyone who dared look, waiting to ensnare the senses. He wanted the best of the world of nightlife, and he felt he could achieve this dream. He bought a large, old building and began his masterpiece. His dream has since come to fruition, and is now known only as Casa del Syn, and he, now known as Synyster Gates, is her owner.

Jared Leto is what one might call a jack of all trades. From hustling to bartending to book keeping at a large bank in Vegas, he's done it all, and it's due in large part to his workaholic nature and his determination to make everything he was involved with succeed that Casa del Syn has enjoyed the monopoly it has. Brian Haner's father and Jared's had been friend's for decades before either of them were born, and no one knew the enigmatic business man as well as Jared did. When Brian came to him with his idea for Casa Del Syn, Jared was behind it one hundred percent. Today, he is Synyster Gates' right hand man, knowing everything about everyone employed and keeping everything running as smooth as possible.

taken/wanted/held || rules || application

mods
Laura: jaredsexual || jaredsexual
Jade: jadegates || Try Me xx Gates

woot for RP comm whore-age!

2008-01-03T23:01:26Z

Celebrity Role-Playing Community

Message Board/Threading Based

Taken&Held

Application Form

Rules

Sheer Pandemonium is a solid celebrity role playing community. We're het, slash and femslash friendly. While the board was originally focused around musicians and has a sturdy set up for touring and the like, it has branched out to allow actors, models, TV personalities, roadies and more. We're looking for active, competent RPers to join our ranks and we're sure you'll be more than happy if you come and give the board a look for yourself. We've been open since March '07, but we've just moved over to a new link for a fresh start.

New, improved, all-around better. I really want a C. Rackam and a Mick Morris, tbph. Maybe the rest of TAI and Good Charlotte too.

jadegates @ 2007-12-11T16:02:00

2007-12-12T07:06:10Z

OKAY, so I am awesome and went to the Avenged show last night at the Warfield in San Francisco.

It all started on Friday night. I worked and it was a hell of a shift, because everything was just fucking going wrong, but then I went up to Katt {xa_broken_wingx} and Zacky's {zackyxinked} that night, only to find out they're going to Grass Valley. So I came home and decorated the tree with my parents and they came and got me on Sunday afternoon.

So we stayed up til all hours of the morning on Sunday night and woke up at like, nine to start our drive to San Francisco. It was uneventful, since I slept most of the way >>

when we got to San Francisco, I met one of the most awesome girls in the world, Diana {scatterbox}. We were staying with her, because she kicks ass and let us crash. I think she enjoyed it.

After we got all settled in, we went on an adventure to find food. She wanted to go to In-n-Out which was like, completely north of where we were supposed to be going to get to the Warfield. But alas, we took the bus, and we ran ourselves in a circle trying to find it. It was worth it though. God, I love that restaurant. Every time I go there now, I'm gonna think of last night *sage nod*

A trek up a steep hill and a bus ride later, we were on our way to the venue. God, it was like, 5:30, an hour until doors opened and there were maybe 100 people there. It was pretty much amazing, and we just slid in, lucky bitches that we are.

I totally got into this argument with a fan about Brian and the confederate flag. He was saying "Gunslinger and Dear God are like influence by Big n Rich, and they preach 'music without prejudice,' but Syn has a guitar with the confederate flag on it." I jumped on that bitch and defended my baby. Oh yes, you better believe it.

We bought shirts outside, whoo hoo, but then we went to the merch booth, just to see Matt Barry. Because Matt Barry is fucking hot and absolutely awesome. I told him that, and Zacky said that his brother was awesome too, and he got all shy like, and just said, "thanks, we try." That man totally won my heart! He's so totally modest~ He's underrated, that's for damn sure. So we went inside and got probably some of the best spots in the house. Right behind the pit, on the first barricade. The inside of the Warfield totally reminded me of Phantom of the Opera.

There were these two guys in front of us that were way tall and they kept standing up and getting in our way, and I kept inadvertently molesting one of the guys' asses with the knot of my hoodie when I tied it around my waist. Needless to say, they were gone by the time Avenged came on. Maybe it was because of what we were saying. I don't know, and I don't fuckin care, to be honest.

Black Tide-Okay, I heard a couple things from them just because I knew that they were opening for Avenged, and I thought they were okay, but seeing them live totally converted me into a lover of their music. their bassist, Zakk, was so animated and I totally couldn't keep my eyes off him (especially when he took off his shirt--damn). The lead singer was adorable, and I liked his voice a lot. The long-haired guitarist, Alex, was insane, but awesome. Overall, they were just an amazing band that totally deserved to be opening for Avenged. They're gonna go far, or at least I hope they are.

Black Tide, fuck yeah.

The Confession-The lead singer was a cocky motherfucker! He was like "give it up for Black Tide and Operator, and last but not least *pause* give it up for my penis!!" when people totally thought he was gonna say Avenged. XD they were okay, the rest of the band really lacked the energy the lead singer had and it kind of disappointed me. The music was good, though, and I enjoyed it, especially their song, "No Angel."

The Confession--These guys were fucking hilarious

Operator-Biggest fucking disappointment ever. They sucked so bad in my opinion, and the lead singer pissed me off. His voice was far too annoying for me to even consider handling. They were pretty much the reason my head was hurting. I didn't get ANY pictures of them, because I didn't like them AT ALL.

Avenged-Well, come on. They were the main attraction, after all. I really think they lived up to the hype that I put onto them. A lot of bands fall short with me, but they really impressed me with the energy they produced, even if some of the songs fucked up.

Critical Acclaim--this song was pretty much awesome. I loved how they played it, and it was really just fucking amazing.
Remenissions-I was so happy they brought this into their playlist. This is one of my favorite songs off Waking The Fallen, and I was really proud that they played their older stuff, even if it didn't get quite a monstrous response like CA did. I enjoyed it, and it made my heart a little fuzzy :D
Beast and the Harlot-This is ultimately one of my favorite Avenged songs, and they played it really well live, in my opinion. There's seriously going to be no bashing in this post. Just fangirly gushing >>
Burn it Down-Again, I was really happy they played this. I think Zacky said he fucked up in this one, but I'm not 100% positive of it.
Afterlife-I cannot wait for this video, and this has to be one of my favorite songs that they play live. It's also one of my personal favorites anyway, so that's kind of a bias right there. Jimmy screaming=guh, orgasmic, seriously.
I won't see you tonight pt.1-Brian fucked up in this song, and he was bitching about it for like, five minutes, and that was when he mentioned that they'd stayed up til six in the morning shooting the video (matt said other stuff later about it, but that'll come soon enough). As far as the actual song goes? God, it almost made me cry, it was just so full of emotion. I love this song so much, and the fact that they played it live was just absolutely amazingly fantastic, and damn them for making me tear up. OH! and not to mention during the whole piano work halfway through the song, Johnny, Zacky and Brian sat on the drum platform drinking beer, laughing and talking to each other. It totally made me grin. They're so cool.
Scream-I really liked this song. I don't really remember all that much from it, other than Brian's blazing solo that I just couldn't stop watching him through. He really stole the show for me, but then again, when doesn't he? I think it was just after this song that Zacky totally went up behind Brian and just smacked his ass. Brian had the stupidest grin on his face as he turned around. It was pretty much awesome.
Almost Easy-this has been dubbed my favorite song that they play live. You can really hear the bass, and it's a song that Jimmy and Johnny are really in tune for. And the guitar work is just impeccable, and really, this was the song that Matt really interacted with the fans a lot on. It was fucking awesome, and I really think it brought a lot of character to the song. I love when bands involve their fans, especially when they have as much control over the crowd as Avenged does. They say jump, and everyone does it no questions asked.
Bat Country-I love this song, if for nothing else, Brian's hip shifting thing that he does during the musical interlude. This was played really well in my opinion, other than the fact that I think Brian fucked up his solo again, but he totally covered himself when the duel came through. They were so in tune. I'm just glad none of their equipment fucked up.
encore:
Seize the Day-this song was another that almost made me cry. It's really the one that Diana got super-into, because it's the first one she ever heard from me. I fucking love this song, and Matt's voice was just awesome, despite the fact of complications, really.
Unholy Confessions-He totally sounds better than he used to when he sings this song. It was a perfect closing. The only thing I had to complain about was the lack of Brian solo. Maybe they just think it's too out there or something. I don't think he's done it at any show. He did a mini one after Unholy Confessions, but other than that, nope. :\

JB being meticulous and fucking adorable.

Bow down to Synyster Gates, because he is awesome.

I love this shot

Guitar duel~~

again

Best yet

Actually, no, I think this was the best.

After the show was over, we totally went out the back way and chilled for like three hours. Literally chilled. Poor Diana was shivering like a little puppy, and so I had to cuddle her the whole time. She's so tiny and skinny, so I had to huddle with her for warmth. Poor girl.

We tried to get JB's autograph, but it didn't work. Zakk (or however you spell it) from Black Tide came out. I swear to god that man is the most awesome smaller band member I've ever met He hung around for like, half an hour just chatting away with us. I loved his Velvet Revolver tattoo. I totally got his autograph!

He is so fucking awesome. XD

Okay, so then we moved from where we were before closer to the bus, and while Zakk was talking to some other kids, the guitarist, Alex, comes by and starts talking to a bunch of different people. He and Diana got into an interesting conversation that eventually led to them exchanging numbers. I thought he was kidding up until I saw him taking her number down. He actually gave her his first XD He was awesome.

He looks so fucking stoned.

After that, we totally accosted Jason Barry and we got his autograph. At first he was just like "nonono *probably thinking, please leave me alone*" but then he finally gave in and was bitching about his signature. I got the best one out of all the autographs he gave!

Wish I was touching him, but I'm not, so oh well.

Zacky was the first to come by and he was completely like, covered from fans. I'm not sure what the hell was up with that, but oh well. Matt and Brian followed, and Diana had a fangirl moment. He just smiled at us and was like "don't worry, we'll be back out." It made my heart flutter a little. >> then Johnny and Jimmy came out. The lanky fucknut so doesn't look so lanky lately. In fact, he looked downright cuddly, but tired as hell, but he still smiled at the fans as he walked by. Johnny was just acknowledging that the fans were there, but being totally cool about it. We waited out there for probably another hour once all the opening bands left. Matt was the first to come out, and I figured out why his voice sounded a little off when he was singing. The poor baby was sick! He was still out there like a dedicated person, signing autographs and stuff. It was so fucking adorable. He gave me the cutest grin when I said that he was amazing. I was totally one of the first people he signed for.

Favorite~~ He was like, totally clinging to me XD It was awesome beyond all belief. (Note: I normally DO NOT smile like that, at all!)

We waited for like, another half hour after Matt went back inside (thankfully--I mean, I wanted to meet him and everything, and I fucking loved it, but he was sick and I didn't feel like him getting worse just cuz of his fans, you know?) Brian was the next to come out, and he was totally fucking cool about everything. He kept saying "of course," and "definitely, man." He was just so chill, but I could totally tell he loved the whole thing. He loved the adoration, I could tell with that cocky little smirk of his. Man, he was even hotter in person, but I digress. He was pretty much the most calm, collected guy I've ever met in my life. I couldn't say much, only stare and ask him for a picture/hug thing.

Fucked up picture, but I seriously don't give a fuck! It's Brian, and he's awesome, and I'm standing next to him, so I'm pretty much content with it.

I totally snuck this one because I thought it was hot. >>

Adorable moment of the night: James Hart was there with them, as like part of their entourage or something, and he came out because his ride was there to take him back somewhere, or whatever, and he came out when Brian was still signing things. They totally hugged each other like, not man-hug, but full-on huggage, and James, I think, said, "I love you," and Brian replied with, "I love you too, man." It was pretty much the most adorable thing in the world, seriously. I was like "aww, James..." I was in love with it, and him. He's even better looking in person, which I totally thought was impossible. I got a picture, but it's all fucked up. :\

They were, I guess, getting ready to leave, but Johnny pretty much forced himself out as Brian went back inside, and I thought that was kick ass. He was so friendly, and so small compared to the other two. He was like, just my size, seriously. He was cute and kinda smiley but you could tell he was tired as fuck. He still was chipper and signed things and took pictures. I'm a lucky bitch and got two. ^_^ Michelle had snuck out to have a cigarette and she was just chilling by the bus while Johnny signed things. It was funny.

Blurry but the better of the two.

And we both look totally stoned off our asses. I love it.

>> Danny and Michelle, unless I'm insane and that's Val, which I don't think it is.

After we stuck around to make sure none of the other boys were going to come out, we began our trek back to Diana's apartment, squealing and talking like maniacs the whole time.

When we got back to her apartment, we proceeded to get drunk off vodka. Katt is such a lightweight. She was done for after like, two shots, but she ended up having four. Zacky and I both had five, and Diana only had three. After that, she showed us pictures of Ryro, and then decided that we should watch the Avenged Sevenfold DVD before we went to bed, since Diana had never seen it (oh the blasphemy). I don't think we ended up finishing it.

Hahah.

My throat hurts like a sonofabitch from the screaming paired with the vodka, but fuck, I'd do it all over again.

jadegates @ 2007-10-18T17:58:00

2007-10-19T01:07:00Z

First off, icon thanks to zackyvzgirl

Brian
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Zacky
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Matt
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Jimmy
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Johnny
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Matt/Jimmy
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Brian/Zacky
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jadegates @ 2007-08-21T23:50:00

2007-08-22T06:57:02Z

Right, so...

I really don't have anything to say in this.

School's on Monday.

My mom's stressed to hell because of money.

I can't get a job.

I feel rather numb right now.

I have been roleplaying, on a roll, but I have no inspiration whatsoever.

I don't know what I'm saying.

I'm done.

Wait.

Me, me, me, me, I, I, I, I; that's all I ever think of. Fucking hell.

PS-I love this song so fucking much.

ooohoooh, I'mma do this now.

2007-07-05T19:32:07Z

I stole this from Maria ♥

If you want to play just ask a character of mine (specify which) a question and I will respond in-character.

My writing journal

I wanna know what you wanna know.

jadegates @ 2007-06-21T15:41:00

2007-06-21T22:47:53Z

My writing/fiction journal, complete with new drabbles. I'm hoping to archive some of my longer stuff soon, and put my original fiction (novel) up there soon too.

Add it, love it, cherish it.

jadegates @ 2007-06-12T15:06:00

2007-06-12T22:10:44Z

Title: Animal I Have Become
Rating: X
Summary: After being abandoned at age sixteen by everyone who claimed to care, Brian Haner became Synyster Gates. He ended up meeting his band, Avenged Sevenfold, at age eighteen, and stayed with them for a few years; long enough to put out three records. In that band, he made lifelong friends he didn’t realize would be there for him even after the band split up. After moving away and a few years later, actually making a semblance of a life for himself with a somewhat steady, yet rocky relationship and a budding bar business in the works, the band comes back into his life with a bang. What happens when he instantly gets torn between them all, old feelings crashing with new? (Based loosely on a role-play character of mine-the characters will not be written exactly as others have played them)
Pairings: Synyster Gates/Zacky Vengeance (based on a character played by zackyvzgirl), Synyster Gates/ The Reverend Tholomew Plague (based on a character played by invader_julie), Synyster Gates/Jade Puget (based on a character played by hobbit_eluned) (other character cameos)
POV: Syn-centric

My name…well, actually, there is a lot of speculation on the subject of my name. I was born Brian Elwin Haner Jr., but to me, that man died the day the people I loved abandoned me, left me for dead. At the moment, I go by Synyster Gates, but you can just call me Syn. Why Synyster Gates, you ask? I couldn’t tell you. I mean, I could tell you why the Gates was tacked onto the end of it. I was driving like a maniac while intoxicated with a friend, and we drove through a set of gates, and I just shouted at the top of my lungs “I am Synyster Gates, and I am awesome!” Don’t ask me why; I was drunk, and cannot be held accountable for my actions. Why Synyster you ask? Well, I have this little smirk that people have always said looked like I was planning something sinister, and I didn’t want to look like I belonged in a fucking dictionary, so I merely replaced the I’s with y’s. Simple answer, probably too simple for what you were looking for, but hey, this story isn’t about you.

At the moment, I’m twenty-three. Most people think I’m more toward twenty-six, but hey, what they think really doesn’t fucking matter to me. I’ve been told before I look and act older than I am, and I’ll take that as a compliment any fucking day. I like being thought of as older than I am, and I’m not one hundred percent sure why. Maybe it makes me feel a little more important.

I may come off as cocky, brash, or just plain cruel, but that’s just how I am, and if you don’t like it, fucking deal with it, but can I tell you something honestly? Yeah, well, it’s gonna be said anyway. I think all those things are just a defense mechanism, but you really think I’d admit that, especially considering the traits I chose to use and abuse to get the points across? No, not likely. I don’t normally open myself up like this, unless I trust you or I’m too fucked up and out of my mind to know the difference, so feel fucking special.

I smoke, I drink a lot, and I curse. I’m not necessarily the best person in the world, and yet people seem drawn to me in so many ways. I don’t understand how so many people could want me, because I don’t even fucking want myself.

I was born in Huntington Beach, California, and had lived there all my life until I moved away a few months ago. July seems to be a popular month for assholes like me to be born in, I’ve noticed. Take my friend Matt Sanders, for example. Or, excuse me, Shadows. He’s got a big heart, man, and people call him an asshole when he tries to defend himself. He’s just like me in so many ways, but still so fucking different. He doesn’t know what I’ve been through, and I don’t know what he has, so it’s a silent, need-to-know relationship. We kind of understand each other, though, and sometimes I wonder why.

Zacky Baker, on the other hand, was not born in July. In fact, I do believe he was born in November, but I never really cared to figure out his birthday. There were always a million other things to pay attention to. Namely, his eyes. I could have stared into them forever. They were this sharp, clear green that misted over whenever any sort of emotion crossed them. Sometimes, they even looked blue or grey, but most of the time they were this searing shade of emerald that could just capture my attention and hold it prisoner until he looked away. He was always the one who broke the gazes. He always had this quiet innocence to him, but I knew damn well he wasn’t that fucking innocent, but it was always nice to bask in the coolness of that façade. He was more naïve than me, that’s for damn sure. Maybe that’s why I cherished him so much. He’s the complete opposite to me. He’s sweet. I don’t think I have it in me to be…sweet to someone. He had this adoring way of looking at me that I just absolutely relished, but I had never told anyone that before I’d moved out of California, except one person.

That brings me to Jimmy Sullivan. He has been my best friend since I was about seventeen and he was the one that convinced me to join the band that those two fuckers, plus Jimmy and their bassist, named Johnny, had been working on. Apparently, they needed another guitarist, because Zacky just couldn’t hold the lead, but was amazing at rhythm. So, Jimmy got me to join for a couple of years. Jimmy…well, my relationship with him was very different. Since my ex-boyfriend when I was sixteen, he was the first person I’d had sex with. It was just casual stuff; we’d always fight for dominance, and I always won. I think there may have been one time when he topped me, but I was so blitzed I don’t remember. He and I were so fucking close, man. We could tell each other anything, and we did. He never expressed his feelings for me, though, but I knew they were there. I could see it with the slightest darkening of his eyes when I confessed that I was falling for Zacky.

Since my ex burnt down my house and left me, I’d never been one for a relationship. It was all meaningless, casual fun. I’d be the one to pick up a guy at a bar, take him back to a hotel, fuck him senseless and leave, not even giving him a phone number or anything to try and contact me with. Sometimes I did end up with girls, but that was only when I was so drunk out of my fucking mind I didn’t knew the difference. Those times were very rare, considering I have a very high alcohol tolerance. That comes from becoming a bartender before you were even of legal age to drink.

When my parents kicked me out, I was pretty much on the fucking streets. Thanks guys, means a lot. So, I pretty much did whatever the fuck I could to get money and a place to stay. That meant selling myself, and I was okay with that after the initial shock wore off; I think that’s where everything goes wrong with this little tale, and why I never did relationships after that. I gave up on love completely. I stopped believing in it, because what kind of person who claims to love you torches your family’s house? I didn’t believe there was such a thing. So, anyway, back to the story. A couple of months into this whole, self-depreciating stint of mine, I met this bartender who said he’d give me a job if I blew him. Come on, a job for sex. Who the fuck passes that up? I started out being a bitch boy, doing shit for him and all that, but he taught me the tricks of the trade, and I’ve brought it down to my own advantage. I could probably kick his ass right now at bartending if I could be assed to find him again. I actually owe that fucker a lot. He doesn’t know it, but he probably saved my life.

That was how I met Jimmy, really, because when my parents oh-so-kindly asked me to leave their home, I dropped the fuck out of school. Why bother when I couldn’t even do shit to that they asked me to? I wasn’t a good student anyway, and I think I really was failing everything before this whole fiasco blew up in my face. Anyway. I met Jimmy one night and he asked for a Tequila Slammer, as he always does I now know, and I made it for him. Apparently it was the best he ever had, and after that, he was drunk and after my shift, I got smashed too, and somehow ended up going home with him. We fucked, yeah, and I showed him what I was made of. Before me, he was a total top, and I bitched him. I’m still very proud of that. It never turned into a relationship, though. Like I said, I didn’t do them, and soon after he got involved with this stripper that ended up ruining his life.

I keep getting distracted. Jimmy had this acoustic guitar for God-only-knows-what reason, because he’s a drummer, not a guitarist, and after we’d had our fun, I found it. I’d been taking lessons, and it was the only class I could ever manage to keep up in, until the instructor told me I was too good and was making the other players look bad, and to just leave. I still laugh at that memory. Anyway, I picked it up and ended up playing around on it for a bit, and he gently demanded that I play for him. And so I did, and that’s how I ended up where I was; lead guitarist in a band. Go fucking figure. They even had equipment I could use. I actually ended up staying with Jimmy during those times; I owe him a lot. I don’t think he realized, or even realizes now, what he saved me from.

I continued to bartend, coming to practices whenever I could, trying to keep myself distracted. I think it may have been the third practice or so when I finally got to talk to Zacky, and something about us just absolutely fucking clicked. He was my absolute opposite, and I was his. Here I was, this kid probably two years younger than him, with this attitude too big for his body, and then there was just Zacky. He was the nice one. He did have this evil little smirk, though, that he gave me once in a while; it gave me a little variety as to what kind of person he was, and the kind of person I wanted to be.

I was always kind of tense around Z. I guess it was because I wanted him so badly, but I didn’t want to fuck him up like I had been. I guess I felt I wasn’t good enough for him, and I suppose I still think that. He deserves someone who will give him their direct word, and not go back on it, someone who didn’t have a fucked up past and could love him with all they have. I felt, and still feel, like I can’t give him that, though I feel such serenity just being around him, despite the fact that we could probably never, ever be together.

Matt and I instantly became like brothers in arms. We had this silent contract that we wouldn’t talk about our pasts with each other, because he didn’t want to know why my eyes were so locked off all the time, and I didn’t want to know why he was such a fucking tough guy. One thing we always shared, though: we were both very gay. I never really had an attraction to Matt, and I’m not even sure why, though I’m glad right now, considering. That would just make everything so much fucking worse. Anyway, yeah, we were both out of the closet and we had this agreement, however nonverbal it was, that we’d always be there for each other.

Jimmy and I had a much more vocal kind of agreement. We were always there for each other, and even though most of our deeper talks were over alcohol, of varying strengths, we were always there. We would always just…talk. I told him all my feelings about Zacky, about Matt, about my past…though, I never told him I was homeless when he picked me up. I don’t remember what I told him, probably something along the lines of wanting to get out of my parents’ house and be out on my own, and that was why he’d invited me to move in. I was never your typical homeless person. I cared too much for my own personal hygiene for that. Luckily, of course, the bar had a sink so I would just wash myself in there, and it was easy to do things that way. My first couple of paychecks went toward the bare necessities. I think I was actually up to a hotel room when I’d met Jimmy, but that really doesn’t matter now.

The band broke up not long after we put together a third album, due to personal problems. Jimmy just left, Matt disappeared, I disappeared, I don’t know what the fuck happened to Johnny (I was never too close with him) and Zacky ended up leaving too.

Now, I’m living far away from California, in a small town, which is a little strange for me. A culture shock if you will, because come on, Huntington Beach isn’t exactly a small fucking town. Now that I’m here, I’ve been here for a few months now, and I’m starting to finally put myself together.

I’m actually in a relationship right now, rocky as it is. His name’s Jade and he gets me. He’s been through similar shit to what I’ve been through. Except, his wasn’t really involuntary. He was the one who chose to travel the country. Anyway. He’s sweet, but not sweet like Zacky was. He’s a bit of a nymphomaniac, which is fine by me, naturally. He gave me the idea, when I moved to this shit town, to build a bar, and that’d exactly what I’m doing.

Of course, right as I get everything on track, the band, in its entirety, moves to where I live and proceeds to fuck everything up.

anyone interested? just a rough idea, but this plot that I'm creating is far too epic.

jadegates @ 2007-05-31T02:37:00

2007-05-31T09:40:58Z

We all have things we keep to ourselves.
If you read this post, leave an anonymous comment.
Even if I do not know you, but you read this, post.
Post a lyric, a thought, a ~~confession~~, anything at all.

jadegates @ 2007-05-24T14:39:00

2007-05-24T21:42:59Z

I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

jadegates @ 2007-05-22T16:10:00

2007-05-22T23:23:06Z

OK, I have found the most awesome RP community ever. Maybe that's cuz it's all message board based. It's amazing nonetheless and I can ramble all I want. ILY SHEER PANDEMONIUM!

go. join. now. You won't regret.

List of Characters
The Commandments
Enter Sheer Pandemonium

In other news, I'm dizzy.

More is coming for To End The Rapture, I promise!

That is all.

jadegates @ 2007-04-24T21:55:00

2007-04-25T04:57:49Z

Title: Burn It Down
Author: Syn
Pairing: Zacky/Syn
Rating: NC-17 soon
Summary: {Syn is a person who never lets anyone close to him, cruel and thought heartless to everyone except Shadows. Zacky is his partner in crime, even though the two can barely stand each other. What’ll end up happening to Avenged Sevenfold?}
Categories: Syn/Zacky
Genres: Drama, Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Excessive language, derogatory statements, boy sex later
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to themselves, and are, in fact, not characters at all, but real people. I just use and abuse them the way I see fit. Enjoy!

II
When “Eternal Rest” popped up in the set list, Syn heaved a sigh. There was a lot of interaction between him and the douche bag people called Zacky Vengeance in that particular song. He hated to admit it to himself, but Zacky was pretty damn good on his guitar. He tossed the thought out and readied himself for the next song, pushing a few locks off his face. He stood; both were feet planted firmly on the ground, leaning back slightly, his hands steady on his guitar.

Zacky inwardly groaned at the song too, but it seemed Synyster Gates was nicer on stage, when he didn’t have his mind on being an asshole. He actually seemed to be enjoying something other than running his bad mouth about others. He secretly admired Syn’s skills, but like hell would he tell anyone that. He adjusted his hat and prepared. He stood there, more relaxed than Syn, with his hands itching to play the instrument in his hands.

Zacky and Syn had worked together before, hence the band being in existence in the first place, but each of them had their animosity toward each other. Everyone thought the two of them were best friends, merely because they were the dueling guitarists. In truth, as everyone knew who was around them on a daily basis, they were at each other’s throats, as you’ve seen.

The two of them both swept their picks across their strings, combining to make a mass harmony that started the song, Rev adding a fevered heartbeat to the harmony, Johnny chiming in deeply. Zacky and Syn glanced at each other, and Syn’s face was void of any emotion. Zacky’s wasn’t particularly jubilant either as the continued their play.
Shadows broke in with the lyrics, rough and raw voice breaking the hold the two’s eyes had on each other. Syn looked down to his guitar, concentrating on the hard rhythm that Rev had set. His fingers moved swiftly across the guitar, letting the instrument sing through the amplifiers, only to hear Zacky harmonizing with him.

Zacky’s fingers moved quickly on the instrument, his fingers moving at a fast pace against the nylon, belting out a deep set of notes, and Syn played them on the other side, an octave higher, his fingers expertly sliding across the guitar. Inwardly, he was thankful he could even keep up with the other guitarist.

When the guitar solo came up, the two of them joined in the middle of the stage, feet up on the podium as was normal, arms pressed together as they played. Zacky could feel the vibrations from Syn’s harsh guitar playing, and Syn felt it from Zacky. Neither looked at each other, but played in perfect synch, creating a complex, deep, raw, metallic melody wafting out to the screaming crowds.

After the concert was finished, both men were exhausted as they reached the VIP room. Syn leaned against the wall, wiping his brow with his hand. Zacky had collapsed into one of the chairs. Shadows followed, his hazel eyes glancing from one guitarist to the other. Rev walked in with a pleased grin on his face, and Johnny was raving about how the show went.

“That was amazing, guys!” Johnny gushed as he practically skipped down the hallway. “Who knew you two could play so well together.”

That was very much the wrong thing to say. Zacky and Syn glanced at each other contemptuously, then over at Johnny. Syn’s eyes smoldered angrily, and Zacky’s looked positively offended.

“Fuck off,” Syn decided to say to break the tensed silence. He distinctly saw Shadows roll his eyes out of the corner of his eye.

“Me, play well, with him?” Zacky asked incredulously. “You’re fucking crazy, Christ.” The bassist just shrugged, rubbing his hand against his head, looking to Shadows for help.

“Guys, admit it,” Shadows said, lifting his head up. “You did well.” Syn huffed and Zacky kept his incredulous look, directing it toward Shadows this time. “Don’t give me that look, Zack. Just because you two hate each other, doesn’t mean we should suffer for it. There’s a reason you two are in this band collectively. You play well together, when you’re not at each other’s throats. You didn’t become the dueling soloists by yourselves.”

Syn heaved a sigh and crossed his arms, unable to argue with Shadows. Zacky seemed to, for once, have nothing to say in return. This slightly amused Syn, watching the other open and close his mouth, akin to a fish. The rush from the show had dissipated from the room, like a guitar string that had snapped in the midst of a solo. Since neither of the guitarists would admit it, Shadows huffed and shook his head. “You guys are acting like children!” he cried with exasperation. Syn smirked at his friend and merely shrugged other than that. Zacky pouted a bit, full lips cut by pieces of metal protruding in a cute way.

“I’m sorry, Shadz,” Zacky said, willing to make amends. Syn, on the other hand, was not willing, keeping his arms crossed and his eyes directed toward the ground. Shadows walked straight up to him, his hazel eyes demanding that Syn look at him. The guitarist reluctantly looked up at the singer, who had his head cocked to the side.

“Sorry, Matt,” Syn said in a muttered voice, and Shadows gave a small smirk, satisfied, though he was damn sure the rest of the band hadn’t heard him. If he knew Syn at all, the man did that on purpose.

“Now that that’s settled,” Shadows said in a final tone, “we can go to the bus and get some goddamn sleep. We all need it.” He walked toward the door, motioning for the rest of the men to follow him. Johnny followed him readily, Rev going shortly after. That left Syn and Zacky in the room together for a moment.

Their eyes met, and the room electrified around them. The touch of their eyes into each other’s was so intense, so fierce, they both had to look away. It wasn’t an angry air, for once. Neither of the guitarists could explain what had happened. Syn didn’t have an insult right on the tip of his tongue like he normally did when people looked at him, and Zacky was rendered speechless by the sheer power of the moment.

“We better go,” Zacky said, brushing past Syn and walking out the door. Syn shook off the feeling that was creeping into his outstretched hand, following Zacky out the door, trying to push questions into the back of his mind, into the abyss. He tried to lock them away, make like he didn’t care. In that, he succeeded for now.

Little did Syn know, Zacky was thinking along the same lines, rubbing his biceps to get rid of the goose bumps he’d felt when looking into those smoldering, angry eyes. In truth, Zacky wanted to get to know the hellion, but he didn’t know how successful or smart that would have been.

Once the boys reached their tour bus, all climbed aboard, splitting up into their respective bunks. Syn climbed into his, turning toward the wall, staring at the cracks that stretched across the plastic.

Zacky crawled into his bunk, curling up against his pillows, pulling the blanket tightly around him. A million thoughts ran through his head, and he felt vulnerable; he was definitely glad that Syn was away from him. This was the kind of state where the other guitarist could hurt him easily.>/cut>

jadegates @ 2007-04-24T17:47:00

2007-04-25T00:52:48Z

Title: Burn It Down
Summary: {Syn is a person who never lets anyone close to him, cruel and thought heartless to everyone except Shadows. Zacky is his partner in crime, even though the two can barely stand each other. What’ll end up happening to Avenged Sevenfold?}
Categories: Syn/Zacky
Genres: Drama, Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Excessive language, derogatory statements, boy sex later
Author’s Note: I do not own these characters. They belong to themselves, and are, in fact, not characters at all, but real people. I just use and abuse them the way I see fit. Enjoy!

Backstage, the tension was thick. Johnny Christ, Bassist, was chewing on his bottom lip in anticipation, his bass guitar situated firmly within his grasp, the shoulder strap cutting into his shoulder as always. He rolled on the balls of his feet, humming to himself idly, strumming a few strings of the amp-less instrument, muted notes floating around him, barely rising above the screams in front of the curtain.

Jimmy Sullivan, more commonly known as The Rev, was drumming his sticks against the concrete wall of the room around them. His toes tapped nervously as he tried to keep an even rhythm. The thrill of the performance made his fingers tingle as they continued their beat against the wall. He took a steadying breath and ceased the tapping when another band member tossed a white towel in his face. He glared over, knowing whom it was.

Zacky Vengeance was listening to the incessant tapping and it was getting on his nerves. They were always shot before a show anyway, but with Rev’s drumming, it was really getting to him today. He had looked around for something to throw, and picked up a towel, chucking it hard at Rev’s head. The anticipation was making him irritable as Rev glared over at him.

“Prick,” Rev said, tossing the towel back. Zacky caught it with a slight grin, throwing it down.

“Yeah, what about it?” Zacky retaliated, toying with a few strings absentmindedly, matching the caliber of Johnny’s mindless strumming. The boys heard a sigh from behind Zacky.

M. Shadows had come back from getting water to see the two boys fighting like children. He shook his head, butterflies in his stomach, even after years of performing. Honestly, he wouldn’t have wanted the feeling to go away. He grabbed the towel from Zacky and dropped it on the guitarist’s upturned face, which promptly turned into a scowl.

“Fucker!” Zacky exclaimed. Shadows merely smirked and walked off. “Where the hell is Brian, anyway?” he asked, hoping the name would bring his fellow guitarist out of hiding.

It worked.

“Motherfucker,” Brian, or better known as Synyster Gates, growled from behind Shadows. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Sometimes it’s the only way to get your attention,” Zacky said airily, giving an award-winning grin. Syn rolled his eyes. He felt the anticipation in the room and it tingled through his well-built arms as well. He held his guitar close, thumb touching slightly on the lowest string, causing a low humming to be let from the instrument. He leaned against the wall, his hand deadening the noise of the instrument as he looked upward.

“How long do we have?” Syn asked Shadows, who merely shrugged. He sighed exasperatedly. “I hate waiting.” He tapped his foot impatiently, his fingernails drumming on the plastic of his pinstriped guitar.

“Oh, shut up,” Zacky countered. “You know you have a hard-on for the anticipation as much as the rest of us.” He was picking at his own left-handed guitar, which was red in color and more circular than Syn’s, which took on a horned appearance, and had his name emblazoned on the neck between the strings.

“Fuck off, fag,” Syn grumbled, running a hand over the brim of his fedora. Zacky was also wearing a fedora, which made the other’s lip twitch. Shadows clapped a hand on Syn’s shoulder, gripping it loosely with equally strong arms. Syn’s eyes went straight to Shadows, brows furrowing.

“Chill, dude,” Shadows muttered in Syn’s ear. Syn growled deep in his throat and took a deep breath, digressing for the moment. “And you, shut your fat mouth, Zack.”

Shadows had a very domineering personality, and he was a leader. He could get Hitler to listen to him, in Zacky’s opinion as he promptly shut up. He sighed and shook his head, going back to his vocal warm-ups, humming deeply in his throat and readying his voice for a rough-and-tumble time.

“I’m glad I’m not them,” Johnny muttered, continuing to pluck at his strings, which earned him a glare from the dark-eyed guitarist. “I don’t know how the hell anyone gets along with you, Syn.”

Syn barked a laugh, shaking his head. “The only fucker I can get along with is him,” he stated, pointing over to Shadows, who rolled his eyes. “And that’s because he’s not a whiny pussy like the rest of you. And you,” he said, pointing his index and pinky finger toward Zacky, “have a big enough mouth to fit anyone’s dick in.”

“Syn, that’s enough!” Shadows snapped, smacking the guitarist on the arm. Syn glared at him, but said nothing. “Now, we go on in ten, so we all just need to get out fucking shit together and get our heads in the game!”

Immediately, the tension that had floated around the room before Syn had entered was returning, trickling in and suffocating the band members. Syn began to sweep his pick along the pick guard. Johnny almost snapped one of his strings because he was plucking at it so hard. Rev stopped his tapping and held his sticks in his hand, holding them tightly. Shadows just shook his head at the group, especially to Zacky and Syn. He felt they would never get along. Zacky had begun to hum to himself, thinking over Syn’s words.

Finally the lights came on, and Shadows got his nod of approval, and he ran on stage first, shouting welcomes to the crowd, introducing the rest of the bad as they trickled on. Zacky went first, and then Rev, Johnny following and Syn finally taking up the back, his pick in his mouth. He thought of nothing but the on-stage rush.

Despite their arguments, Syn and Zacky were right in synch through the entire concert, playing perfectly beside each other. They harmonized with each other perfectly, and when one of them would screw up, the other picked up the slack. Syn was so into the rush, he didn’t quite notice the chemistry, until they began playing “Burn It Down,” and their first guitar duel was perfectly matched; it was probably the best they’d ever done. This unnerved Syn, as well as Zacky, but it was for their work, and for that they pushed away any thoughts.</cut>

Prodigal Son 2

2007-02-16T22:40:04Z

Title: Prodigal Son
Chapter Two: Was A Sinner
Rating: R for language, and possible violence in later chapters.
Pairing: None so far
Warning: Language
Focus Character: Jack
Summary: Jack is just a lost twelve year old, but he's gained strength from his downfalls. When he gets sent to Evelyn Mercer, things WILL change for him, but can he keep his strength and his walls intact?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Mercer family. they belong to whoever wrote Four Brothers...I know their name, but it's not coming to me.
A/N: Not beta'd. Inspired by both "Pitiful" by minka_g and "The River" by Good Charlotte and Avenged Sevenfold. Many thanks to my Kitty ^.^

I’m looking at the three older boys, trying to judge them. I wonder if they’re fucking with me, like so many of my other “siblings” thus far. They’re all just kind of staring at me as if they’re expecting me to tap-dance or something. Well, fuck that.

“I’ll show you your room, since you obviously don’t believe us,” Bobby says, walking toward the staircase. I feel inclined to follow him for some reason or another. I do, of course, marveling at the pictures on the wall. I’ve always wanted someone to put pictures of me on their wall. I see all three other boys staring out at me.

I reach the top of the stairs after Bobby, looking around. He leads me to a small room, with a bed, a desk, and a stereo built into the headboard. I blink confusedly.

“I didn’t ask to be led to your room,” I say, and Bobby shakes his head.

“This is all yours, kid,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. I look at him, into his eyes. Deep down, they look just like mine. Tortured, mad. I guess he was like me once.

“Wow,” I say, sitting on the bed. I can tell it’ll be comfortable. I grin secretly to myself as I bounce up and down on it a bit. I stop when I hear Bobby chuckle softly. I look sheepish for a second, but regain my composure quickly.

“Do you want me to leave you alone so you can settle in?” Bobby asks. I nod, looking down. “OK, dinner will probably be soon.”

“’Kay,” I mumble, and with that I hear him leave, the door clicking shut behind. My own room. Maybe it will be different. Then again, maybe not.

I’m alone now. Everything feels so weird, so alien. It’s like if I touch something, I’ll wake up on that godforsaken cot I’d been sleeping on for the past month or so.

I guess I should be thankful, but right now I’m just kind of scared. Are they trying to lure me into a false sense of security or some shit? ‘Cause I won’t take that. Not from anyone.

I wish I wasn’t so goddamned confused. Why me? Why here? Why give me to the patron saint? Am I that far gone?

I push these questions to the back of my mind as I hear conversation outside the door. I’ve learned to listen very closely, especially when it has to do with me.

“He seems distant, Mama,” I can hear the voice of Jerry talking in a soft tone. “Skittish, even.” A slight balloon of rage grows in my chest. I’m not skittish! Indignant, I start to get up off my bed.

“He’ll be okay, Jeremiah,” Evelyn says. “He just needs some time.” Hearing this, I sit back down, the rage dissipating. “I remember when Bobby first came to me. He was like a wild animal, begging so hard to break out of a cage.”

“He’s still like that, Mama,” Jerry points out, and Evelyn laughs. Listening to the conversation makes me feel a little better. Bobby was like me once. For some reason, that brings a smirk to my face. Maybe I scare them as much as Bobby scares me. This thought gives me a little satisfaction…

Then I think. Bobby’s probably been here for years…that means this lady’s got a lot of patience…I’m going to have to work harder than ever to break her.

“Yes, but he’s livable, Jeremiah, and so will Jack be soon enough,” I hear her say. Yeah, right. She’s getting cocky about me already. This shall be a challenge. Maybe it’ll even be fun.

“If you say so,” I can hear Jerry mumble, barely audible through the door. I laugh softly to myself, falling back on the bed. It really is comfortable. I sigh, looking up at the darkened ceiling.

Shutting my eyes I begin to think back. I felt like this a couple years back, when I was given to a young couple; they thought they could save the world one fallen child at a time. I was a little less stubborn back then, just looking for someone to love me. They’re the reason I am the way I am.

They had been married for about four years, and were doing the same thing Evelyn was; cycling kids into permanent homes. The wife’s name was Sarah and her husband was Roger. They seemed nice at first; I remember the first day I was there. They were accommodating, telling me they had a small house and that I had the couch all to myself. This didn’t seem strange then, but looking back, it was weird that they were hosting a lot of kids and didn’t even have a place for them to stay.

A few weeks passed, and they were still attentive, but Roger had become strange, acting differently. He’d get mad at me for no reason. A month after I’d come to stay with them, he came home, and Sarah was crying when he opened the door. He told me it was my fault, and slugged me for the first time. I crumpled under the blow.

I thought things were going to be different. It was then I decided that I couldn’t trust anyone, however nice they were. After, Sarah lost it too, yelling at me whenever Roger would go into his rages. She’d blame me for all their problems, and whenever she did that, Roger would take her rage out on me physically. They ended up getting divorced, and I was sent back to the agency. Since then, I’ve done well not to trust anyone. I was seven.

Now I’m twelve, back at square one, I guess. Then again, there’s no marriage I can screw up I suppose, nothing for me to destroy, except the lives of three other boys from the same streets I grew up on. Maybe…

No fucking way. I’m not giving into these fuckers. Not today; not ever.

Prodigal Son

2007-02-12T22:18:03Z

Title: Prodigal Son
Chapter One: Shadow of Detroit
Rating: R for language, and possible violence in later chapters.
Pairing: None so far
Warning: None
Focus Character: Jack
Summary: Jack is just a lost twelve year old, but he's gained strength from his downfalls. When he gets sent to Evelyn Mercer, things WILL change for him, but can he keep his strength and his walls intact?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Mercer family. they belong to whoever wrote Four Brothers...I know their name, but it's not coming to me.
A/N: Not beta'd. Inspired by both "Pitiful" by minka_g and "The River" by Good Charlotte and Avenged Sevenfold.

Standing in a back alley of Detroit, I begin to ponder, an angry red blaze flashing across my eyes. I like to think it’s rage, but it’s probably just the light from the street lamp. I decide I’m sick of being peddled from one house to another because of stupid fuck-ups like me trying to one-up my reputation. It’s not like I asked to be a fuck-up. I don’t like looking in the mirror for a reason.

I twirl an unlit cigarette in my frigid fingers, debating my last twelve years or so, give or take a few months, I guess. My life hasn’t been perfect, no, but it could always be worse. Sure, I’ve been hospitalized more than any of my other foster “siblings,” but I could be like Maria, locked up in some cell somewhere because of a drug problem. I never touched it. Ever. Drugs, that is. I had enough to fuck me up.

No, my calling to fucked-up status was always kleptomania. I stole anything I needed, or sometimes what I wanted, you know? It all depended on what mood I was in.

When the foster family found my habit, which sometimes was on purpose or by accident when she found four hundred dollars missing from her purse. Bitch shouldn’t have left that much cash in there. It was begging to be stolen. I was “flogged to within an inch of my life” as her husband would have said, so they didn’t press charges on me, they just sent me away again.

Fine by me. I had what I wanted. I wanted to get out of that shit hole anyway. It was a perfectly strategic plan. I walked out of that house with so much of their stuff they didn’t even know I took.

The social workers don’t know what to do with me. Every house I’ve been to has been a failure. Either they fuck up, or I do. Like the one time one of my “foster fathers” threw me down a staircase. That was fun, until I hit the ground and passed out because I landed on my ribs. I woke up in the hospital with all my things already packed for me. Fuckers.

So now they’re sending me to the patron saint of lost children. Last time they did this, I fucked up in three weeks. Second best record. My best was when I ran away after three days because the “mother” wanted to jump me, tie me to the bed and fuck my brains out. Imagine what that did to an eight-year-old. I shudder to think about it.

I hear the chiming of the five o’clock bells go off at the churchyard, and the sun is just barely tinting the sky. I’ve been away all night, and that fact brings me a sick sort of satisfaction. It’s today that they’re taking me to my new “home.”

Apparently, her name’s Evelyn Mercer, and she’s helped hundreds of kids find permanent homes, but she’s adopted three “like me,” as Phil would say. He’s an old fool who still thinks there’s some good in the world.

Fat chance of that.

So, I start my trek toward the home they stuck me in with a bunch of other smelly homeless, listless boys who had nowhere to go. Some of them are worse than me, but they say I’m the worst. What the fuck ever.

I enter quietly and flop onto my bunk, pretending effectively that I’m still asleep when Phil comes and wakes me up at six, saying, “It’s your big day, Jackie,” in that childish voice. I groan under my breath. He took it as a sleepy sound, but it was disgust. “Dress in your best.”

I pull myself from the bed, grabbing the shoes I’d worn all night. Black leather, worn to shit, steel-toed. I pull on my Pink Floyd t-shirt. I think it’s the only shirt that’s still clean, and pair it with my dark blue ripped jeans, and my ever-enduring leather jacket, which is accumulating more modifications every day. I run my hand through my hair, then glare effectively at Phil, who had been watching me the whole time, creepy bastard.

“Can we go?” I said shortly, in a gruff voice, shaking my head to clear it. I hate going to new places, even though I’ve never stayed more than a year at one particular place. Phil sighs sadly and I follow him out of the place, not paying any attention to the “brothers” I had accumulated over the past couple of weeks. They’re nothing to me as they catcall me out the door. They’re just another couple of people on a broken road leading to nowhere.

Great, I’m sounding like Edgar Allan Poe or some shit. What is it with me? Phil grabs my arm as we exit the place.

“Now, be on your best behavior,” Phil mumbles. I yank my arm from him, and give him a sardonic grin behind lidded eyes.

“Always,” I say slyly. I pull out a lighter and begin to flick it as Phil tries to grab me again, stepping away from the flame. Effective way of warding off unwanted contact, don’t you think?

“And put that lighter away; Evelyn’s a very highly respected person, so give her the respect, you hear me?” Phil reprimands, and I all but laugh in his face.

“Me? Respect? You gotta be kidding,” I mumble, and continue flicking the lighter. Truthfully, I am nervous. I’ve never met a saint before. What is she like, I wonder? Will she baby me? Well, if she does, fuck her; I don’t need it.

We get in the car, and the ride is silent until we ride up on a house that’s half-brick, half something else, with an outside patio enclosed by windowpanes. Hey, at least it’s a somewhat nice house. Maybe I’ll burn it down. Phil pushes me out of car and toward the door. I stumble a bit, but regain my balance, standing in front of the door, waiting for Phil to knock. I sure as fuck won’t.

He does. Stupid fuck.

The door is opened by a boy of about seventeen, with hard green eyes and slicked-back hair, a cold aura around him. My eyes lift to meet his, and for the first time in a long time, I feel fear seeping through me. Not enough to deter me though.

“Yeah?” the boy at the door asks. Phil begins to explain the situation, and the boy lets us in, taking an extra hard look at me, scrutinizing me. I shiver and walk far away from him, into a warmly lit living room with an old woman crocheting on the multicolored couch. She looks up and her blue eyes sparkle in the light. I step back, away.

“This is Jack, Ms. Mercer,” Phil introduces me; I can’t even do that myself apparently. I roll my eyes.

“And he can’t introduce himself, Mr. Harris?” the woman inquires, and my eyes flicker up to hers, eyebrows high on my forehead.

“Of course he can, he just won’t,” Phil explains. I shake my head, thinking. I can’t let myself get attached to this woman. I’ll be gone within weeks, so no putting down roots. I look down, fiddling with my lighter as I feel her eyes on me.

“Stop staring,” I mumble. “I’m not a circus animal.” I look up at her, expecting shock or disgust or some sort of negative response. Instead she’s looking at me with those eyes, wide-open and …welcoming. This lady’s a one of a kind, that’s for sure.

“I never said you were, Jack,” she states.

“I’m going to explore,” I state, walking out of the living room, away from her penetrating stare. I’m not watching where I’m going, and run into a large black boy a few years older than me, with big hair and a confident air about him.

“Who are you, kid?” he asks in a slick voice.

“Jack, and you?” I shoot the question back at him. I’m about eye-level with him, thanks to being tall. He grins at me.

“I’m Angel. What are you doing here?” he asks, and I chuckle.

“Apparently I’m going to be staying here for a while,” I say, and his eyebrows rise. I smirk slightly, cocking out my hip a little.

“Ah, the new addition,” comes a voice from behind him. It’s the boy from the door. I dare to look him in the eye again. “I’m Bobby.”

“Jack,” I say again. How many more people will I have to introduce myself to? Another black boy comes out from behind Bobby, making me even more nervous. He had almost a kind face, but his eyes were calculating, like the rest of them.

“I’m Jerry,” he states, and I merely nod my head, not wanting to say my name again. They all look at me imploringly, making me nervous.

“So, where do I stay?” I ask, assuming they’ll say the couch. I’m used to sleeping in strange places.

“Ma has a room for you; it’s just upstairs, next to hers,” Bobby states, and I can feel the way my face changes. I’m shocked…a bedroom, just for me? This is a first, a really BIG first. “It’s upstairs.”

“My...my own room?” I whisper to myself, and I feel a hand on my shoulder. I brush it off roughly, noticing that it’s Angel’s.

“Yeah, kid, your own room,” Angel says. A tint of a smile touches my face as I look down. Maybe this won’t be so bad…for a couple weeks.

so, um...like you care but...

2007-01-21T22:13:24Z

I won't have internet for a while, due to financial problems. I'll miss you all.