#solorp

[teenmonkeypopidol]

“𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐’𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭!”

[birdboyofbabylon]

Though night had fallen, the Jungle Zone was ripe with activity. The base of a gang known as the Treetop Thieves, a sprawling series of shelters suspended from the canopy of the jungle; all joined by an inhospitable labyrinth of walkways, was currently teeming with patrols inspecting every nook and cranny. Of course, they had every reason to be on alert. They’d recently made off with the prized mask of a high-ranking Eggman officer and they knew retribution wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

However, there were always careless mistakes to be had. One unfortunate koala patrolling the area would find out firsthand as he thoughtlessly stepped onto a loose vine that had been laid out near the edge of the walkway. In an instant, the rope had sprung, latching around his ankle and sending him screaming over the edge. Others would gather around, of course, a small crowd forming to see one of their own caught up in a constricting web of vines, dangling just below the platform.

And of course, watching from several platforms away in a low crouch, was the impish hawk that had sprung the trap, a grin widening across his beak as the scene unfolded before him. “Heh, that should keep those idiots busy for a while,” he scoffed, dusting his palms together as he righted himself and head for the center of the hideout.

It wasn’t long until the avian found himself in a surprisingly well-decorated main hall, lined with ornate pillars, wooden carvings, and many a tapestry as far as the eye could see. To think a building like this was simply hanging from a harness of interwoven vines was...a little unnerving, but not as much as the state of the hall itself.

...It was completely empty.

“I reaaally don’t like this,” the hawk mumbled to himself, his footsteps being the only thing to break the eerie silence. “They wouldn't be stupid enough to try and make some half-assed trap outta this, would they?”

He’d take another few steps, spying the secured lockbox at the far side of the room. “Nah, couldn’t be. They probably all got tied up just like their buddy,” the avian scoffed, followed by a chuckle. “Heh...tied up. That’s a pretty good one”

The lockbox only needed a bit of coaxing, a bobby pin more than enough to do the trick. It was but a little wiggle here and a waggle there until it snapped open and...there it was, Nephthys’ mask, it had to be. The thing had a sturdy feel in Jet’s hands, a fair deal of weight to it and the material, whatever it was, certainly had a quality to it that couldn’t have easily been faked. This was it, for sure.

“Well well well, I heard we had an intruder, but to think it would be the leader of the Babylon Rogues. How curious”

"You have got to be shitting me...,” the hawk grumbled as he pocketed the mask and turned around. Sure enough, a small army worth of thieves had just rushed into the building, nearly a dozen strong of all kinds of jungle wildlife. The one that seemed to be leading the group was a lemur sporting a few facial scars and a sinister grin.

“So tell me,” the rival thief continued, his brow lifting in suspicion, arms folded behind his own back “Why would you come on behalf of the Eggman? You have no allegiance with him, or so I’ve been told”

“Who said I was doing this on that fat bastard’s behalf?,” the hawk snipped back, pointing towards an imaginary watch on his wrist, “Now are we done playing twenty questions? I’m on a schedule so I’d like to cut to the part where I plant my foot up all of your collective asses”

“Oh...,” the lemur scoffed, “Quite a lot of confidence for someone outnumbered eleven to one. I’d expected the leader of that dying clan of birdbrains to be a fool, but this is something else. A shame that the legend of the Wind Masters dies here, as I-”

It was at about this point when Jet grew tired of listening to this monologue, his leg lashing out to hook in a nearby chair, quickly drawing it in and exchanging it to his other leg. Going with the momentum, he’d swing back into a breakdance-like move, now balanced on a hand while he spun himself and kicked the chair sharply for the opposing leader’s head, breaking it over his skull and causing him to collapse in a heap.

“Yeow, he takes chairs to the face like a bitch. Ya think that’s how he got those scars?,” the hawk cackled, the sarcasm practically dripping from his words as every eye in the room now leered dead at him. “Huh? Oh, sorry ‘bout that, he just wouldn’t shut the fuck up! I thought he was gonna go on forever and ever, too! Does that guy always jerk off to the sound of his own voice or is this just a special thing?”

Without a word, the others clenched their fists and took a fighting stance, with Jet doing the same. The only difference, of course, was that Jet was grinning ear to ear in absolute elation as he shouted. “Alright! Now it’s party time! Just try and keep this exciting, alright?”

[Cue the music!]

Right out of the gate, an absolutely furious gorilla lunged ahead of the group, swinging wildly at Jet, only for the Rogue to nonchalantly backstep every swing, his arms tauntingly held out to the sides. “Hah! Nope! Too slow! Try again!” With one last heavy-handed lunge from his foe, the hawk would weave to the side, letting the brute drive his fist straight into the wall, the limb now caught in the hole.

Lunging in to take advantage, the avian leapt a knee square into his foe’s gut, another kick snapping him square in the jaw to send them flying. Before the gorilla even hit the ground, however, Jet would twist in mid-flight, taking hold of his foe’s neck and sending them flying into the bulk of his attackers, bowling many of them over on the spot.

Two thugs rushed in while their allies were stumbling back to their feet, swarming Jet from each side. The avian turned to one, interrupting his swing with a sharp punch to the gut, then would quickly step back, interrupting the attack of the second one by driving his elbow straight into the incoming fist, his foe’s hand cracking and buckling on impact.

While both were reeling in pain, the Babylonian snatched the arm on the foe behind him, tossing the underling over his shoulder and into the other attacker, flooring them both. A third would come charging in headstrong, only to get stopped cold with a boot to the face, the hawk keeping his sole planted to his attacker’s face all the way down as he followed with a stomp to the skull that splintered the wood floorboards beneath them, the thug writhing and arching his back as Jet twisted his heel atop their head...all for good measure.

 Next up was a panda, rushing the bird with a quarterstaff made of bamboo, swinging it about wildly. Jet managed to duck under the first swing, leaping over the second, then sidestepping an overhead follow-up, dropping a foot on his foe’s weapon as it clacked against the ground. With a sharp push of his heel, he’d push the staff back, driving it into the rival thief’s gut, taking hold of the staff to drive the tip into his foe’s throat.

With one last swing over the head, the panda was down, and what seemed to be his brother was now rushing in. Wasting no time, the Rogue drove the tip of his newly acquired staff into the ground, letting it ricochet up and peg the incoming foe square in the jaw. Before the lackey could even recover, he was swatted again and again from every angle, simply collapsing in a heap once the bird’s quarterstaff barrage had ended.

Another brute of an ape would take a swing next, leaving Jet to try and block with his staff, only to have it snap in two. The cloth wrapping around the weapon, however, would unravel in the middle, serving essentially as a tether between the two halves of the broken weapon, and catching the primate’s fist in the tangle. Almost instantly, the Babylonian capitalized, sharply pulling his foe towards him as he leapt straight overhead, letting his foe run headlong into a punch from one of his own teammates. The ape was swung for a half-turn, only to get pegged again by a blow from the hawk and slump over into a heap.

The monkey hadn’t even fully hit the ground before Jet was using him as a springboard, launching off his downed foe and lunging himself feet-first at his ally as he was still reeling from the shock of this friendly-fire incident, launching him toppling end over end.

As the hawk was getting back to his feet, another lemur would rush him, putting the bird into a headlock. For a second, it seemed like Jet was left flailing aimlessly, but after he kicked up at the empty air, the Rogue would redirect his momentum to slip right through his foe’s legs, reversing the hold and sharply suplexing them into the ground. Before he’d even come to a stop, the bird twisted back into a handstand, finally dropping knee-first square onto his foe’s chest, the unfortunate enemy’s eye’s bulging out as he coughed up specs of red, before eventually going lax.

This left only one target left, a very, very unlucky sloth that was now scared out of its wits, eyes darting from side to side. All he could see was his downed allies, crumpled up, bruised, and bloody on the floor. The mobian would hold out its hands, slowly backing up as Jet menacingly stepped closer and closer, a devilish grin on his face as he cracked his knuckles.

From outside, all the others would see is that very sloth being launched straight through the main hall’s doors, flinging them open with a deafening crash. Dozens of heads turned to scope out the disturbance, just in time to see that nefarious green hawk give a salute and fling himself off the treetop platform. Those that looked down only saw a flash of light, the thrusters on his Type-J flaring to life several dozen feet below...and then he was out of sight.

[historyofdisregardingorders-blog]

A Love Like No Other solo Part 1

Opening my irises from my slumber, I stare at the sleeping form of the love of my life named Katrina Harper.

God, She was absolutely beautiful. I am head over heels in love with her. She filled the void I had from before. Being a troubled teen after the loss of my parents.

Guess you could say Katrina saved my life. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, watching her sleep was like something that I would forever cherish.

Without her, I would go insane.

I couldn’t help myself, leaning close, my lips press against hers.

Feeling her lips kiss me back, I smiled wider into our kiss.

Having our lips part, she opened her blue irises meeting my honey ones.

Her lips curled in a smile seeing me, she managed to always make me feel loved. The palm of my hand moved to her cheek gently caressing her skin with the pad of my thumb.

Katrina’s dainty hand moves on top of mine. Her features soften with love.

“Morning handsome.” Her words come out small.

“Morning beautiful.” My lips stay in a broad smile. She was going to be my wife soon. She’ll be Mrs. Katrina Rapp after many years spent together being girlfriend and boyfriend.

I like the sound of that. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

A few hours later, we were on the beach. It was crowded with peers that walked and talked amongst themselves.

Everything was perfect, the weather, the water, everything. It couldn’t get any better.

A smile forms against my lips, watching the girl I love playing in the water before me.

[mentalcrackhead-blog]

The story of how I ended up here: V Cannon Fodder

It’s been five already? I thought there might be less so get me how you get me when I say I feel absolutely smug about pulling through with this shit for as long as I have. I’m not usually the kind to sit down and you know…Write in a diary. That’s so what a girl I’d fuck would do and I’m just not into stuff like that but since this place gets more and more boring by the second, (Well really freaky and useless but boring…Yeah that’s the worst I am going with today.) , I have no choice but to find my own entertainment between these thin ass nasty walls.

My handwriting’s kinda hard to read sometimes, the shots I usually am very resistive towards, make me all dozy and they affect how my body reacts. I’m not a fan of that. It’s kind of weird having to be who you are and think the way you do but to have your body give out and not act the way it used to…

It’s kind of scary. Hah…At the end of the day, I am what I fear most? That sounds so fucking poetic right now, I can’t even…

Anyways, I haven’t been able to write more because of an unfortunate incident that I will speak about in another time and at a different place.

I want to talk about Cannon Fodder today. I feel like no one will be bothering me for the next few hours so it’s the perfect time to get to writing.

First let me start with explaining what Cannon Fodder means for those of you who are dumb enough to not be into strategy or you know war shit in general. I used to love it when I was in middle school or some shit but that got old as fast as it got cool.

Cannon Fodder: noun

Noun:  Cannon fodder

Soldiers regarded merely as material to be expended in war.

I have my own understanding of Cannon fodder and I pull the card out each time it’s necessary.

Before I thought I only killed because I was bored, because I wanted to experience but once I had sacrificed more than anyone ever does for experimenting , my own version of cannon fodder in my head, I realized that if I wanted to, I could not quit. It wasn’t a habit I picked up while hanging with the wrong kids. It wasn’t a habit at all. It wasn’t like smoking and it isn’t…I can see it so much more clearly now. I need it. My life depends on it. My entire future has been built on it, my entire ideology, my entire being. If you take that part of me away then there’s no Mason left. It’s just….Some person stuck in a fucked up asylum that no one really gives a fuck about.

Because you don’t talk about those stuff. What are you gonna do? Open up a conversation about old people who use diapers and are being treated wrongly in an asylum a few states over at the dinner table like ‘Hey, mom have you heard about that old woman who got raped in that asylum?’ just doesn’t make sense so society kind of just ignores its problems. It’s better for everyone that way. No one wants to deal with those stuff and when you do, you are labelled an activist who lives a life differently than of others and those people who don’t understand you keep announcing to their family and friends that you are just experimenting and/or trying to give back and some people nod and awe about how much of a good person you are while the others ask ‘So when is he going back to school?’ because that life isn’t just realistic enough for them. Because you just can’t live with helping people. You have to go to a good college and graduate to get a good job. If you have a million dollar house and a smoking hot wife who cheats on you with the mail man and have a two year old with an over expensive manny , THEN you can start talking about people like me and actually doing squat about it. Even then everyone speaks behind your back like ‘Yeah he’s rich so he feels like he needs to give back. Poor guy. His wife cheats on him’ or ‘ Oh that thief is doing charity? Yeah vigilante? When are the police putting these people away?’

So there really isn’t any pleasing them. You have to be who you are fully. This is who I am and I’m going to talk about my pawn.

Back then (When the story I am about to tell took place.) I didn’t really know who I was but I was beginning to realize that this for me was more than just a game and a hobby. I was understanding the highs and lows of it slowly slowly and well…Like any other teenager does, experimenting with my craft. Practicing you could say…

I can still feel how cold that basement was….The cold, moist air and how it made my nose turn red. How the excitement had me on edge. How happy I was that I got another one. I don’t remember her name now but I do remember how she looked.

I remember her fair skin and how it shivered beneath my touch.

That was when I developed my love for blades.  

The night was silent. Almost too cruelly silent that the blowing wind outside hurt…No…It burnt. The cold always burns doesn’t it?

I could hear slow tiers over the wet ground pulling to their homes. Something so silent, so quiet, so slow and calming helped me be at peace. To feel like I was at ease, like I was home when in actuality I wasn’t. Have you ever felt like that? Like your home is another place?

The mud and puddles made a loud sound as I made my way to the building. From outside just an abandoned warehouse but on the inside, my very own factory where my dolls were made. Given…I knew nothing about my message or why  I was doing it, just that I needed to and more so…I wanted to.

The entire process excited me, it turned me on, made me happy and made me yearn more than I have ever for anyone. I wasn’t just someone begging for another person’s affection, I had my own collection, my own fantasies and my own world, my own piece of heaven on earth and I savored each and every moment before I even knew what I was going to do with it later on.

She was in the place all others were, hanging from the ceiling with the cotton tied behind her head to prevent her voice from getting out. The screaming to me was never as important as the squirming. I need to know they’re afraid. That’s for me the key.

And she was.

She was passed out when I got there but as soon as the sounds of me working my tools rose, so did she and as soon as she did, she started crying. Going through the same motion they all go through, asking why they’re there and why I’m doing this to them like they haven’t done anything wrong in their lives…I mean it’s pathetic. Come up with some new lines will you? But that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy each and every bit of it!

My keys made a clinching sound on the iron table I had brought in with myself and after that I sat down, drawing her into my notebook exactly as she was, even with the drool running down her chin as I had the other girls, while she cried and tried to break free.

I remember her frantically trying to get away and crying with every pant. The sound chains and ropes moving around so angrily made me look up and roll my eyes with a shaking head. “It’s not going to work.” I had told her and after a few more minutes of fruitless movements, she gave in entirely, breaking into tears.

Her cheeks went red like a girl’s does when you’re complimenting an outfit you really couldn’t give less fucks about and soon she was just hanging there. Tired of trying, tired of begging.

When she had thought she was going to die, I woke her up with my blade removing the skin of her finger carefully and once she screamed from the pain and ruined my perfect calculations I stabbed her in the palm.

You’d think it’s hard to do that but it isn’t. We’re all just flesh and bone. Like steak but…More alive.

After she was done screaming and I was way done pounding into her, she kept asking why I did it.

Over and over and over and over and over FUCKING AGAIN.

It pissed me off at some point so much that I stabbed her at least twenty times…She was on my goddamn nerves AND she ruined the method I was trying to develop but then it hit me..

I was not angry because she kept asking me why I did it, I was angry because besides wanting to and needing to I really didn’t have an excuse.

That’s when I realized she was a pawn all along. All of them. They were just soldiers I needed to sacrifice to realize that not only the kill is important but so is the message behind it.

So I knew I needed to practice more. Not with my disposal ways but also with what I wanted to say with them. Every artist makes art to say something and that…was my art. My own piece. My own war.

I needed to find something to say and to say it through the girls I killed. Otherwise I’d just be a useless serial killer who raped and killed random girls.

   e},g�V�|�L

[renstheranger]

The Oasis

Wiping sweat from his brow, Rens surveyed his slowly-growing Oasis. Fresh water bubbled from rocky outcroppings, flowing into small streams with sandy beds. The small plants around them were thriving, and even the larger trees were beginning to take despite the natural climate. Rens wrinkled his nose. It still smelled a bit wrong. The burnt sand on the breeze tickled his nose and got into every crevice, even with the thick canopy of leaves above him. The people of Dezerton had thought him mad when he’d announced his plans, but they’d given him the land anyway – none of them were game enough to deny the saviour of their town. It had taken time, and no small amount of gold, but eventually he and a gnomish associate constructed an elaborate network of pipes, valves and pumps underneath the desert sand. From there, it was simply a matter of selecting his favourite sun-hardy plants and importing them from across the continent. Finally, he had his little piece of forest – of home – and he didn’t even have to leave town to visit it.

[weirdfreakoo]

1

SOLO “Finally!”America muttered to herself as she cleaned up her cubicle before leaving. She has a flight to catch first thing in the morning. She filed a leave for a month and still thinking if she’ll come back or not. She has been working non-stop since she started as a junior web designer. Hoping, a month of wandering would be enough to think things through.

Ever since she met her biological father everything starts to change little by little. And slowly, those little changes start to sink in like a freight train. Aeon, her father was the freight train with his all baggage around him.

“Hey Mare!” One of her colleagues snaps, bringing her back to present.“Looking forward to your long vacay?”

She flashed a Cheshire cat like smile as she looked at him, invading her personal space again she almost rolled her eye towards him. Well, he always does. Anyway. “Yeah.” she answered nodding. “A long break sometimes is not so bad and I haven’t had a vacation for a long time.”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you take a vacation ever since you started working here.”

“I just happened to like working all the time…That’s all and keeping myself busy.” So she won’t have to think the things that are coming her way. She thought to herself.

Mare stood up, picked her backpack from the floor and shrugged it on her shoulders. “I better go. I need to pack some stuff before my early flight tomorrow.”

Luke nodded, moved to side giving her way out of her cubicle. Mare let out a sigh of relief.

She waved everyone goodbye before heading out of the building. As she stepped out of the building, a cold gush of wind welcomed her. She hugged her sweater closer to her body as she made her way towards her waiting blacked-out corvette car. Courtesy of her beloved stepbrother Aquilla, who insisted giving her a car as a present on her birthday that she rarely celebrates. Talk about money.

While cruising her way home, she let her mind wandered to her father’s offers and the opportunities he’s giving her. “I won’t take no for an answer. Think about it. I know you’ll do well.” Her father’s voice echoed inside her head.“Ugh! He’s giving me no option.“

She switched on the MP3 player and turned the volume up loud, sit back, and listened to the soothing sound of a classical music that filled the interior of her car. She pulled outside her apartment, looking at it through the tinted car’s window for a moment - suddenly she realized that she really have no choice but to say yes and agreed with her father’s decisions and wants. Thanks to her father who bought the house and lot for her.

She pulled the car into her garage and went outside, slammed the door shut, went up stair and packed her things. And took a quick shower before heading to bed. Sure it is a long day tomorrow.

[mentalcrackhead-blog]

The story of how I ended up here : (chapter III) Anger excitation

( NOTE : Before I begin the following solo I would like to let you all know that rape is not a matter of joke and that the solo has been written with only entertainment purposes and not promotion of violence in any shape or form. I strongly recommend not following me or reading my solos if you are underage or sensitive to brutal topics. The link below has some basic self-defense moves which in my opinion everyone needs to know so please take your time to read it before reading the solo. http://lifehacker.com/5825528/basic-self-defense-moves-anyone-can-do-and-everyone-should-know  I would also like to give you a few tips on how to avoid violent acts : 

1. Always be aware of your surroundings 

2. In parking lots, don't park next to vans. Park up under the lights. 

3. Be wary of strange men asking for help. Ted Bundy pretended to be hurt and helpless, playing on women's compassionate natures. 

4. Always carry a cell phone 

5.  If you break down on the road, call for help. Don't accept help from strangers, especially at night. 

6.   I strongly encourage self defense courses for all women. 

7.   Don't allow yourself to get within an arm's length of a stranger. If you're within arm's length, he can grab you. Never, ever turn your back on one or look away. 

8.   Dogs are nice, both at home and in the car. 

9.   If you live alone, get a male acquaintance to record for your answering machine. Have a dog barking in the background. Dogs are one of the best deterrents. 

10 . Always walk like you mean business. Don't walk with your head down or act like you're timid or vulnerable in any way. Look up, stay alert. ) 

Anger excitation

  Have you ever been able to keep it up for a very long time but not actually…You know…cum? That’s the most frustrating shit that can happen to a human being. Like you’re aroused, fully erect and inside a girl with her bouncing up and down to the point of it / actually / hurting but nothing ever happens? No matter how hard you ram it in there? You only get too close to the end and never actually reach the goal? I don’t know why I remembered this but it’s definitely one of the things I need to stress on.

I did read the last entry I had and now It’s under my bed, crumbled and squished into a ball of paper. I had to leave because ‘medicine time’ or lunch…Can’t remember which. Doesn’t really matter neither. It’s all a moo point at this place. The good thing is that I know they are bullshitting me. I know who I am and where I come from and I know where I am going. Right now, this place is the safest place I could be.

Sure there are stinky old people and a lot of gay people…God I hate gay people, and the food is like literally stuffing your mouth with shit and piss. Just because the voices in here cannot be reliable, they think it’s alright so shut us up. As if it’s alright to feed us shit, both mentally , physically and emotionally; but the thing is…With my name showing up in the paper the way it does, the possibility of dying in here ( well…Getting killed) is very slim. I do like the security in here. It’s like free body guards protecting you form the outer world though it’s more not letting anything out than not letting anything in.

I think I once overheard one of the doctors tell a reporter that it wasn’t them protecting us from what lies beyond these walls but rather them protecting the world from us. Which is true I guess…In a way. Considering Agrys Asylum houses lunatics like me.

I heard they had a record for taking in the most serial killers in the past decades but in one way or the other all of the said serial killers ended up dead or unheard of. Isn’t surprising really…Considering the whole morality of it and all. Like how prisoners get rid of pedophiles a week after they enter the prison or how a pregnant lady can walk through jail without getting raped or even touched. Morality and all of that…Which by the way I never got. Morality is for the weak and stupid. It does no good to be honest. Only puts extra weight on our fucking shoulders, like we don’t already have enough of that with modern life…I need to find myself, see who I am, why I am here and how the hell am I going to make a name for myself….To become known…worldwide. I don’t have time for morality…Anyone who says they do is a freaking liar.

I hate liars.

Anyways…Back to my point about this thing I remembered last night. More like this morning…It’s hard to sleep in this place unless sedated. Sometimes I act up for no reason so they give me some of that shit that puts me out. So I can sleep and have a little bit of oblivion.

Killing was never sexual for me in any shape or form. It was always someone I needed to get rid of like Jackson or an accident like Alice; that’s until this one weird incident changed everything.

So I was at this girl’s place, whose name I cannot remember despite me recalling the incident in great detail….Like the smell of her sweet annoying perfume and the cool room…God that room was cold and the sound of a barking dog, God that dog was loud, but her name? I can’t remember…

So I’m in her place, and she wasn’t a school mate neither, I met her at a party I had no business going to, and logically she wants to get it going.

I remember her pulling her shirt off and just standing there. I mean…It’s nice and all, staring at a half naked girl in front of you but it can get weird though she was comfortable in her own skin and I love that in a girl.

Not as much as I love the quiet very pretty ones but confidence can be very arousing and attractive.

She was a short skinny girl with small breasts and a heart shaped face, too cute for her own good but she had these eyes…They called for mischief and perhaps were the only thing about her that could give her away were she to manipulate someone into be living she’s a good ol’ Christian girl.  

She stumbled in and started kissing me softly while her hand ran up and down my jeans, lifing an erection. All chicks are that way…They like to start slow and gentle and soft and ugh.

I think it’s their way of trying to make sure that they actually want to screw a guy or maybe keep things vanilla enough so they could storm off when they no longer ‘feel like it’.  That’s another thing about the opposite gender that I can just NOT stand!!!

By the time she had me on my back and had straddled me I was all hard and ready for her and believe me….It takes A LOT of restraining not to just throw a girl on her back and fuck the living hell outta her but I’d promise myself not to do anything that would trigger all that crazy stuff I needed to keep at bay.

Haha even writing that down sounds so fucking stupid. I mean…I’m smarter than to manipulate myself (more like deluding) into believing that all of the psycho shit I thought about were just a phase…Maybe teenage hormones and all that just wanted to believe something else about myself. After all….We all do search for who we are around that age, don’t we? I just happen to be something that most people aren’t. I don’t know why everyone has to make such a big deal out of it. Well…Yes of course, I do deserve recognition for the amazing work that I have done, and yes I do the job better than anyone I’ve known or heard of and yes I did get away with it for as long as I wanted but that doesn’t mean differences should be frowned upon. Someone like me who has the control over / humans / nonetheless should be respected, loved and of course…awarded.

Wasn’t until her hand between us had made her cum and her tits in my face had become a nuisance that I realized it wasn’t working.  

She kept bouncing up and down and I managed to keep myself aroused despite how annoying and agitating I found her perfume and her low pitched moans, for which by the way I deserve a Goddamn medal! Though nothing seemed to be helping.

She placed her palm on my chest, half panting half disappointed “Okay, this is not working.”

By this point you all might think that I would give up and call it a day but have you met me? If it’s getting up, it’s getting emptied.

She slide down the bed and got on her knees, giving me a very good view of her eyes before her tongue slipped out and gently tasted the tip of my cock. And after that?  The most pleasant feeling came.

Her experienced mouth devoured me at half and then fully, following its trail with a tight hand that pumped me fast.

“Good girl…” I whispered as she pulled away to work her drool all over the shaft, making sure it was wet. The spit and precum combined all along with her trying to deep throat me made her gag beautifully and it wasn’t till I had my both hands dangled in her hair and was thrusting my hips back and forth into her that I realized I had been making parallels to the sound of Jackson’s choking when I had slit his throat which at first scared me to an early grave because I hate gay people and the thought is just too gruesome but slowly as I forced her still to fuck her face whilst tears fell down her eyes, I understood that it wasn’t the gender but rather the act I was thinking about.

I took the same girl to where I had killed Jackson a few times and I had almost no troubles cumming there but as frequent the girl became as far away and fading my memories.

I got with this other blonde a while after that and when I could no longer do it, not even thinking about Alice or watching the videos I’d made  ( oh and trust me, you’d be surprised as to how many torture porn videos are out there, my friend) , I tried something new. Something I had done with, well…/ to / Julia but never anyone else. I slapped her over and over again and made her tell me exactly what I wanted to hear and when my hand was wrapped around her throat and they had left a blue mark and she had been tied and I had been inside of her till she begged me to stop? I knew I had to have a ritual and tie them up exactly how I wanted to and that I should have a place for each of them to be devoured and used the exact way I wanted them to. Because I could and…Well…

I knew it then and there…There are two ways I can get satisfaction. One…When I’m thinking about really hurting someone and two…when I’m really hurting someone. They call it anger-excitation, I’ve looked it up. The anger-excitation sexual murderer is equivalent to the lust murderer. This killer takes sadistic pleasure in torturing his victim. For this murderer, the act of torture-killing is what brings him sexual gratification.

That? I can personally guarantee.

[elusivechastity]

Patience

 ( This solo is based on the TVD books )

“Pain is the feeling. Suffering is the effect the pain inflicts. If one can endure pain, one can live without suffering. If one can withstand pain, one can withstand anything. If one can learn to control pain, one can learn to control oneself.” I whisper to myself repeatedly, as if the words of encouragement could put up a façade to control my nerves.

I usually am free of those…Of feelings but from time to time the humanity creeps far too close under my skin; this as one would have already guessed is one of those very rare occasions in which I find myself very humanlike...vulnerable and untrustworthy.

Murmuring the secret words under my breath, I fiddle with the phone that is cradled between both pale hands. My comfort zone is definitely not here. I don’t fancy the public where smell of fresh human blood assaults my nostrils, arousing the hungry fangs, far along from an airport where the whole bloody pack of them are loaded in one place.

I sit down, joining the mortals that await their loved ones and go through my messages on the phone. Just to make sure I have everything under control.

The call came in late at night, not on the phone of course but in my bones. That is the easiest level of communication for our kind. Telephones are just far too slow to satisfy our needs. At first I thought I was being summoned, called upon by my maker after seven years. I woke up in cold sweat and shivering in my place but I was far from right. He was sending me a message you see…He needed me to bring him all his belongings that he had once left in my possession. Dark objects with extreme power of destruction. No questions asked, here I am.

I am always early to his calls. Never fashionably late, never putting extra lies on for sport, always pure Katherine feeling like a white li’le dove. He makes me this way…His wrath and the excitement that comes with it. He makes my slender fingers go numb with the coldness that radiates from my body and my face pale as though without color.

Only the movements around me have the audacity of showing me just how still I am. Sitting down with both legs settled against one another, not even tapping the floor out of nervousness.

My locks fall down over my tiny shoulder bringing an strange warmth to me as I look over my phone, realizing I have been still for far longer than I had imagined.

We parted on good terms, my maker and I. Even though I wanted to cry him a river for wanting to take on a different path than me, I could not. I ran out of tears centuries ago. So instead…I smiled and let him peck my cheek before he took his leave.

I look up, terrified as a few tourists pass by. Although entirely aware that his aeroplane hasn’t landed yet, I can’t help but to look up each time those cross doors split open to reveal passengers. I long for him to walk out like a five year old child.

I watch strangers as they pass by. I wouldn’t hunt here…I can’t think about that right now…Oh my poor maker. He must be famished now. He doesn’t drink just any blood…His kind is quite different from mine. He needs to keep his blood pure and the way humans are going? There won’t be much supply left for him by the century’s end. All of these kids are now stained with alcohol, nicotine and all sorts of drugs he wouldn’t even think of touching.

A sudden operator announces the landing of his plane from Paris. I stand up just as all others waiting for their lovers, husbands, fathers and friends do though I am in a distance, away from the crowd. My heart racing inside my chest, punching the cage, it’s fighting to break out.

I can’t find the strength to moisten my lips with a simple lick. With every person that walks out, my heart jumps faster and harder and I feel my knees get weaker each passing second. I swallow through the closed fist that is my throat. The zombies hugging and kissing their intended but they too are a blur to my vision. All I can see is the door that keeps opening and closing.

I tremble…finding myself drawing in a cool breath after a sudden gasp. My left hand’s fingers try to calm me, squeezing my right hand’s digits.

Soon the saloon is emptied and I’m the only one left. Finally, after realizing he is not here, my knees lose their strength and I drop down to my seat. I know he will be here. He is a deceiver not a liar. He wouldn’t have forced me into the city for his own amusement…He doesn’t do to me what he does to others.

My head turns to follow the sound of a child running after his mother but in the same instance a cold breeze rushing through the very doors I have been stalking, touches my locks, taking me up to my feet instantly. My phone which has now slipped from my fingers collides with the titles creating a loud sound that brings all the attention towards me. I am taught not to do things similar to this. Things that will make others notice me. That is why I dress the way I do. So casually and so darkly but now I couldn’t care. The breeze brought a familiar scent. A smell of precious blood filled with strength and purity.

My legs drag me towards the door, all sounds but the one belonging to my beating heart becomes mute. All senses going numb but my wandering eyes and curious nose. Lips part and I breathe a sensual breath wanting to become one with the only being hidden from my view.

I stand there with an erratic heart for hours. Even past the point of strength, even after being told to perhaps sit down. I stand there facing the door as the sun goes down because I know he will be there. I know he is there, waiting for me as I am for him.

More than three flights past, he is still not here and I am still waiting…Longing to be completed.

My gaze locked on the floor, I couldn’t care less when a stranger cleaned the remaining pieces of my phone. He is a complicated man. No one has the ability to understand how the old one’s brain works. No one can simply be that intelligent…Not even me to be honest.

I have been waiting for so long…I am so thirsty and tired. Exhausted from all the hours of fruitless staring…What is this strange emotion deep inside me? As if I want to hide away from anyone that looks at me? Is that embarrassment?

“Patience is virtue…” Says the owner of a hand placed in front of me. The bronze of a big ring visible to my eyes. Both my hands grab the one in front of me and press my soft thirsty lips to the ring for a long kiss. “Rise child” He commands, keeping his hand firmly in place for me to kiss.

“Father…” I whisper lowly as I stand up, only a few inches in-between my chest and his. Oh sweet lord I sometimes forget how blonde he is. How tall and handsome.

My eyes catch a glimpse of his icy blue orbs, as cold as his soul before bowing my head in respect. I swear I see a few wrinkles here and there… “You look old…” I whisper. A darkening sadness taking over me not by the taunting loneliness that always flies near me but for the depressing matter of him looking so shattered and yet absolutely beautiful. He is the beautifully tragic fact in my life.

He nods in response, always entitled to the culture we once shared. A shadow of a smile appears on his lips “Father…” He repeats after me. “Don’t you ever wonder with which tittle they would address you? Those who know little of our standing in the modern world?  Most of the others get confused trying to choose between your highness and my lord. Though I’m fairly certain you miss being a princess; you needn’t bother with the idiocy surrounding the history”

“Princesses are meant to follow…Queens rule.” I manage to say.

“Oh have you taken on a grudge for something so small?  Matters of the past…We must move forward. The change has come upon us” He jokes, already adjusting to the American society. “How would your life be different if…You stopped worrying about things you can’t control and started focusing on the things you can? Let today be the day…You free yourself from fruitless worry, seize the day and take effective action on things you can change”

Together we head for the door at first light and I murmur fearfully “Steve Maraboli…”

“My best student…” He remarks as if proud but I was not done replying to him. So I continue “Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be”

Reaching the automobile I had brought in for the old one, I stop at his halt. His eyes scan my body up and down with the same kind of judgmental look that I fear.

“Big words for such a little girl, wouldn’t you think?” He says, holding a neutral expression on his face.

Any woman who is sure of her own wits, is a match, at any time, for a man who is not sure of his own temper but to step out of line like that? What was I thinking? Have I not learnt how bad it can get?

“My apolo-” He cuts between my words, opening the vehicle’s door “Any supply problems?”

I shake my head in response, a little frantic and feeling as foolish as ever.

“I believe you have everything I asked for, pretty thing” He places his palm on the roof of the car.

“All the names and types are written on every bottle” I nod, reassuring him.

“Yes yes, tell me all about it when we’ve reached the island.” He says dismissively. I’ve spoken out of turn again. I know how easy it is to frustrate him but I have no virtue. I have no patience.

“I won’t be there…I’m going to Asia” I bite the inside of my lips, not showing anything on face, no feelings, no expressions. I’ve found the strength to finally break free.

“Where in Asia might that be, little one?” He tries to restrain his anger through clenches jaws and using the opportunity I look up, not wanting to be the pretty fool anymore.

“Isn’t mystery the most exotic thing in life?” I say.

“Very well, then. Be gone now.” He says bitterly.

“Enjoy your stay, #Klaus” I gather just the needed energy to utter those words. My throat closing tightly.

He just nods and enters the car slamming the door shut before its engine roars. Please say something, stop me from leaving. Anything…Is this how he felt when I didn’t defy him parting from me?

Today I am in control because I want to be and the car moving away from me cannot change that fact. I will not give it the power to control me.

Heading to the opposite direction of the said car, I walk towards the yellow taxis that stand by. My ears hearing my maker’s departure.

‘To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves’ only now I can understand that…Now that the Taxi takes me to places unknown to me. Now that I have gathered the energy to tell him I have no patience for him to keep silent for so long…and I know that I was wrong before...I’m not out of tears at all.

Originally posted to @ElusiveChastity on twitter at 25th of may, 2015.