This blog is for writing, cosplay and the verbs and nouns that make up all the other odd bits and ends of my life as a sentence in a much larger story.
Paraphrasing how a person is built(and taken apart again)
A novel written in shoddy cursive
I:
Lock// about why this story has ripped pages…- It’s not always clear when your reading but the end is always there. When you pick up a novel you don’t expect it to go on forever, they don’t write themselves after all but sometimes if you go to a cheap bookstore in the back ally of some rundown part of every city you can find one that doesn’t end, in which the end will never be in sight, and that’s the one you want to stay away from. When you find that torn and yellowed paper back don’t take pity in it, don’t wonder what it looked like new just walk away. Some things are never meant to be opened, that’s why we have locks and keys and good security systems that call 911 if provoked, and some stories never need to be read, that why they are locked away. This story is one of those, one of those torn covered novels, when of those moth eaten reject tree products, this is a story with no end in sight, locked away, forever…
II:
Games// about the villains or the misunderstood-Backgammon is the oldest game in the world, but chess has the same idea just more thoughtfulness and fake clever that back it up. One side is black and one side is white and maybe sometimes that means good and evil and maybe sometimes it just means two old friends playing a game and sometimes(usually on Sundays) it’s both. One side, in his Sunday best, plays black and leans like all good villains always do, forwards with elbows on knees and grins with a mouth full of shiny white teeth, and the on the other side, dressed in ragged jeans and no shoes, plays white while slouching unpleasantly and has blood and failed love drying on his lips To anyone they may have seemed like they where from different classes and different times, and to anyone they may have seemed like friends, and to anyone they may have seemed like enemies and to anyone if you looked with the corners of your eyes they just maybe looked liked like The devil and the savior and then again maybe they where just seeing things.
Fandom: Borderlands
Subject: Mordecai post pandora
Rating: PG- Swearing
You wanna feel how it feels?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places-
I couldn’t really see the light at the end of the tunnel for a long time. It’s all fairy tale shit I would tell my self and that worked for me, got me through some rough times, got me through more lifetimes then human even live. But being alone gets old, not fast but after you lived a couples decades of love songs and romantic comedies you start to find yourself thinking what it would be like to hold hands not hold tits and then pay up. Not that titties aren’t nice and everything but having to pay to touch them once in a blue moon gets older faster then masturbating dose, a lot more expensive too. I guess the idea formed sometime after the whole Pandora masturbation/ you got an old man name(I don’t thank you very much) incident. I found the vault, fought some granddaddy of my own race and walked away with an emptiness I couldn’t place or name.
I tried to make a joke of the whole thing when I got home, tried to say all I got was a lousy T-shirt but truth be told I didn’t even get that, I just got…nothing! Fucken empty void! I spent two days in the shower, I felt unclean, even when the blood washed away, even when the dirt washed away, even when the water grew cold, even when fresh blood started from skin rub raw I was just empty, I felt nothing, I knew nothing. I was a killer, I could feel that in my bones, I could see it when my glamour shifted, when I was to unaware to keep it up, I could see the black veins, the black hooks, the angled limbs, the shine of my eyes casting shadows like mini suns.
I spent a week in bed, my eyes grew dry from not blinking, I cried blood, I ripped up the blankets till I was covered by shards of fabric. I didn’t sleep, I didn’t dare, I could feel the nightmares behind my eyelids, I could hear them calling, singing me back to more primitive advances. I grew un-solid, I became a ghost, I was all ribs bones, collar bones, spine and shoulders. I could feel the bed springs, they felt like a gravestones, they felt like death, they felt like tomorrow would never come. Monday came and I left, grew tired of graveyards and bed sheets, I left, the forest calling like my nightmares of a dream I never got to dream.
I spent a month in the forest, my teeth became canines, my nails claws, my hands paws, my nose sensitive to carnage. I lost thoughts, I lost faith, I lost memories, all I knew was hunger, all I knew was thirst and the need to kill. I sang to the night, I laughed in my sleep, I howled because I couldn’t remember words to express myself. Time was sunrise and sunsets, rain, or snow or blue skies. Dates pasted, but all I knew was earth’s cycle, numbers where too complex, lost in the age of men and heart beats. Night was for sleep, afternoon was for the hunt and everything in between was to survive. If life had another meaning I didn’t understand, I didn’t want to.
I returned a animal, I returned with ass length hair, I returned with crazed eyes, I returned with a bloody mouth and a un-beating heart. I spent an hour in the kitchen eating all the rotten food left in the fridge, I spent half an hour in the bathroom cutting my hair to a ugly mess, I spent 7 hours sleeping. I woke up alive, I woke up in pain, I cried for the first time in a month, I felt emotion, I felt alone, I felt purpose.
3 months later she was asleep in my arms, she looked like that angel from the vault, 4 months later she was crying her little eyes out, 8 months later she was saying dada, not an old man name, 1 year later she was walking, 2 years later she was in all kinds of trouble. 5 years later she was my everything, 10 years later she was lost, she was a red stain, she was gone…forever.
I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, I told myself that was fairy tale shit. I could be anything, I could be nothing at all. The light came to me through nightmares that sang sweetly, that had her voice, that smelled like lilies, she looked like her, she was my version of her, a by product of the need for love. But I had loved her, she had been my own flesh and blood, our DNA, our fairytale life together that never existed. The light at the end of the tunnel, fuck, yah it existed but it’s the color of love and madness and blood…
Fandom: Borderlands
Subject: Mordecai's past
Rating: PG- Swearing
-Pack up your bags, leave home behind
Don't look back, you're wasting time
Here comes the flood, you'd better run
No time to think about the things you should have done-
How you got to where you are in life isn’t exactly what most people have on there minds on a daily basis. Money, yes, boning that chick at the coffee shop, yes, how you ended up on some hell hole of a planet masturbating to an alien hologram, not likely. The reality of it is you don’t really have to think about, trapped in your own little self absorbed bubble who the fuck cares how you ended up a drug dealer, how you ended up working a boring 9 to 5, how you ended up happily married with a little white fence and a skag ur…dog in the yard.
What? Now you wanna know how the hell I got here? Ha, guess I hadn’t really thought about it, see case in point, well lets see…
Earth, I don’t know how many light years or whatever non-sense that is from here but I’m pretty sure its not anywhere close. It use to be pretty great and ignorant, thinking they where the only life in the universe, HA what a joke, can you believe that? The universe? And they thought they where the only ones. But even so they fucked up there planet till everyone was living in damn bubbles cause the air was to damn toxic to breathe, That’s about the time I was born, the bubble babies they called us, the first of many generations to come that would never breathe real air, or see the real sky, born into cities protected by domes so the whole human race wouldn’t be wiped out. I was raised in the watery womb of New Orleans or rather what was left of it. 2/3 of it was lost under water, like a modern Atlantis, sep people didn’t wanna re-find it. They knew what sank and they had no desire to re submerged it.
My family well…hey! now don’t you go thinking I had some dysfunctional blood line, like my mother was a hooker and my dad left and she was raising me alone, whoreing herself to make ends meet. It was nothing like that, my family was pretty damn normal. Mom was waitress at a Steak house called Bill’s, Dad was working for the government and my little sister was well a girl, what else is there to say about little sisters? Sure my parents where busy people and yeah sure as a I kid I complained they didn’t spend enough time with me but doesn’t every kid complain about that? And with out them and there busy schedules I would have ran away, I would have never picked up and a gun and I would have never knew the enjoyment of seeing light flicker out of eyes.
Yeah yeah yeah I know that sounds a bit deranged, I aint so damn psycho but I guess unless you done it your not gonna understand. Its sorta a power trip deal I guess, like driving a bigger car then everyone else, like having more money then everyone else, like having power over someone else, that kind of thing. Its not like I’m a big guy or anything, I only stand 5’10, my hair is shaggy and I’m lanky as fuck. I’m not someone who on first glance your gonna think “whoa look at that bad ass mother fucker, better stay away”, no more like “ whoa look at that skinny ass mother fucker, he looks like a chick”. But with a 5ft sniper rifle in my hand your not gonna say shit now are you? didn’t think so. So I grew a beard and smashed my piggy bank and bought a hunting rifle and the rest is history as they say.
A millions miles, or light years or whatever away now I guess you cant really go back. I mean I could go back to earth but you cant go back to where you started. You cant change how you became what you are now. But hey, I’m not complaining.
-And I can't change this
I can never take it back
But now I can't change my mind-
Labels: writing
Fandom: Borderlands
Pairing: Mordecai x Guardian Angel
Rating: R- For sex
some say our hands are much too soft.
Some say our hair is in our eyes,
some say we're out of our little minds.
Some say our life is insane-
Welcome to Pandora. This isn’t actually what you call a tourist destination, then again I’m not hear for the beaches or the great outdoors im here for treasure and to find someone I lost. I been here the last month or so, im not sure exactly the time frame. Hourglasses move backwards and far to fast when you don’t really have a set date to get something done by. The only thing constant in this wasteland is blood and some hallucination that calls herself the guardian angel of people looking for the Vault. I don’t believe in no god damn angels, I believe in death and the recoil of a rifle but not angels, never have so im sure as hell not gonna start now. Whatever IT is, it’s annoying, a headache for sure. It started out as a some helpful little hologram. All black hair and inhuman acid blue eyes, pretty little alien thing, giving advice steering me in the right direction, that sort of thing. Then weeks went past and I got tired of listening. I knew the basics and I didn’t need her “please help so and so” shit, I wasn’t here to save people, I was hear to get some trophies, get some treasure and find someone.
Welcome to Pandora. I am what they call the Guardian angel but you may call me what you like. Why I help is of little concern just know that I am here to help, that I want everyone that comes hear to find what there looking for, the vault. He was like every other treasure hunter who came here before him, unafraid and cocky of his own skills. I couldn’t pin his age, I was bad at such things, his hair was unreal colored, his face unshaven and when he rarely took the goggles of his face his eyes where the color of the sun, golden, consuming the pupils into small dots even when the sun was down. Many before him had died and those lucky enough had fled and lived, I wondered, like always, which he would be. My hope of course was neither, my hope of course was that he would be the one to find the vault but I wouldn’t lose sleep if he didn’t, there would be others, there always was. I did want I always did at first, I introduced myself, walked him through his first encounters, showed him the way, like a mother to her child, a ungrateful child, a rebellious child. He grew bored of me much faster then anyone before him, he lived much longer as well. I should have been happy, I should have been proud but I was angry. I would point to the North and he would head to the south in search of some Rak to clean kill, to skin and hang the skull, or teeth from his belt still dripping, still flesh splattered. I was jealous of the rifle, of these trophies of his, of that hunting bird. I helped him survive this far and he ignored me, the NERVE!
It was lonely under the sun, and even more so under the blinking blanket of night. Its not like I wasn’t use to being alone, sometimes though everyone needs someone, if only for physical comfort, for the warmth of another, for the only currency understood in every language, pleasure…sex. I was going insane from the lack of it, to stressed, to tired, it was the only release out here in no mans land. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t bring to mind anything, no porn with gorgeous women with there tits hanging out and spread eagle. It seemed whatever life that was part of was lost, how long had it been? Only months? Or had it been more like years? Frustration, Frustration, Frustration! It seemed logical then, the way the mind works sometimes is amazing, the way it fixes wrongs to heal the body. I closed my eyed, I saw it play out like movie, slow, slower. I wasn’t ashamed of it, somewhere a part of me wished she could see what I was thinking, hoping that it disgusted her to see herself bent over, exposed. Spit, up, down, breathe, up down, breathe.It was almost fascinating in it’s embarrassment. The way his hands where shaking as they pumped up and down. I have never seen them shake, no matter how large the enemy, no matter how many, no matter how dangerous or how close they never flinched, never shook, only now. Only now did those lanky skillful hands shake, only now did that cocky, disobedient personality die, only now did I see that maybe, finally my wish, my purpose would be fulfilled. The Vault would be found, the Destroyer eliminated, the world safe. I owed him. His hands where warm under mine. His eyes fluttered opened, ecstasy sun met acid sky. I smiled, warmly, a gesture of forgiveness, pushed his shaking hands away, replaced them with my own and mimicked where he had left off.
I don’t believe in no god damn angels but maybe, if only just for that moment, I did.
Some say we're falling off the page.
Some say our life is insane.
But it isn't-
Labels: writing
Fandom: Watchmen
Pairing: WalterxLaurie
Rating: R-for Sex
“ Hello Silk Spectre”
“Its Laurie”
And so it was but it was as if the letters where acid, too bitter for his tongue because he refused to speak it, Refused to see me as a real person, to him it was all about justice and super heroes, as if real life has taken a back seat in his filthy head.
I hated this, this noise, this filth and denial that was prison. I made a noise that sounded something close to what a mother does to every child, a tsk noise that starts deep in your throat and ends far louder and more pinched then it started as.
“why do you bother?”
Good question, there Walter, how I wish I only knew. Of course I shrugged, said nothing. This was all pointless, we both knew it. I came, he called me by something I didn’t want and then we stood in silence till I left with a simple goodbye and the clicking of heels.
We both stood still, broken clocks while the world around us was stuck on fast forward. He was 20 years my senior, eyes this acid stamp blue, hair some ginger mangles mess, check bones to high and sharp and rough stubble that raced across the two thin face. He wasn’t handsome, but somewhere in all that mismatched features I saw something I wanted. After chasseing the answer around for weeks like some wayward dog off it’s lease I fell over it, feeling stupid and hoping no one had noticed.
“its you” whispers.
He raised an untamed brow and snorted, shaking his head, getting a whiff of something, what I didn’t know.
“You got to be kidding me” he growled moving from his corner of the cell I thought he had rotted to. He grabbed the bars, muscles bulging against the thin skin of his arms, pressing his face to them.
“you smell!” he snapped.
I blinked, taken aback, struck really. What did that even mean?! I smelled…
I squeaked, really that’s pretty close to the noise I made as he grabbed my wrist, pulling into the human cage and almost slamming my face into the cool steel bars. His lips where dry but they caught mine no different. He smelled like cheap after shave and animal, caged and wild. I surfaced, my face red, my breathing ragged. He looked wild, untamed and unsure what to do next though there was dark lust clouding his eyes, even I could see it coming like storm clouds in a perfect summer sky.
I wanted to run. I wanted to forget this ever happened. To go home take a long hot shower and go to bed but this was the answer I had been looking for. I couldn’t run now. I couldn’t forget. I wanted him, dammit!
He hiked my skirt over my hips, baring silk red panties. He growled, like the animal he was, deep and throaty and primal. He grabbed at my hips, half dragging me to the bars, half ripping the panties aside, half ripping at his pants. He dug his nails into my tender flesh and then he was deep inside me. I screamed, and the cells around us went quite, straining to see the fuss. He drove into me, gripping at my hips, thrusting hard and frantic as if he couldn’t get in side me fast enough, as if he needed this or else he would stop breathing. I felt weak, and I cried out as I stumbled to my hands and knees, cum running down my thighs. my panties soaked in my own juices and his. He watched me with
“Same time next week?” he zipped himself up.
I nodded, barley able to make it to my feet.
“goodbye…Walter”
He was disappearing into the dark of the corner again, almost a dream.
“goodbye…Laurie”
Labels: writing
Labels: cosplay
Oh, hello. It’s nice to see you again. How’s the weather in your parts? Lets re-introduce ourselves since we seem to be stuck here for the time being and it‘s been to long good friend.
My name is Almy. I’m currently Nineteen, I attend Penn State, I’m a lesbian with a tendency to ogle older men, I’m completely obsessed with Fashion, Metal Gear Solid, Transformers and Puppets. I write because it’s the closest form to the need to breathe I can recreate. I worry too much, I eat too little and although I love my curves I stress to much over my weight.
And in the end ,If I refuse to be ordinary; If I reject beautiful; if I decline sensibility then I just wish to be Extraordinary but if all else fails I am at best ME.
MICROCASSETTE 6:
MICROCASSETTE 5:
MICROCASSETTE 4:
MICROCASSETTE 3:
MICROCASSETTE 2:
MICROCASSETTE 1:
July 2009 August 2009 November 2009 December 2009 February 2010