(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2003 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leaveoutalltherestYeah, I started writing again. I got the new Nickelback CD, and while I was listening to it, one song caught my attention. It's a prequel/companion story to my TCP fic "Trash", leave a comment if you want to read it. I plan on doing a cleanup job on that fic, after I finish this one. For those who have read that fic, Aaron doesn't get anything more than a passing mention at the end (when I get there). Oh, and a beta reader would be appreciated.
Marvel claims to own the mutant concept, but that's it. TCP is ours, mostly. I own all characters in this story. Lyrics for "Throw Yourself Away" are sole property of Nickelback, from their 'Long Road' album. ANY resemble to any person(s) living or deceased is purely coincidental and unintentional. This all came from my sick, twisted little mind. Deal.
**
Baby's born on a bathroom floor,
Her mother prays that it'll never cry.
But nothin's wrong, you got your prom dress on,
When they ask, you'll say it isn't mine.
Concealer first, to give your pale cheeks that flawless, golden glow. Smoky brown eyeshadow to draw attention to your dark eyes, mascara to darken your full lashes. Clear lip gloss slides on smooth, making your lips look wet and kissable. One last pull of a comb through your wavy hair, and you're finished. A quick check in the mirror hanging on the back closet door, making sure that your new dress covers any remaining bulges. You look perfect; the perfect girl in the perfect dress, going to the perfect junior prom at the perfect private school. Your eyes catch on the new deadbolt on the door and you pause for a moment. Shaking your head, you turn to grab your clutch off the bed, and leave the room. All the while, hoping and praying that no one hears the plaintive cries coming from behind the locked door.
**
That's it for now. Will get the rest up when I get it written. *g* No, I don't plan on keep that style throughout the whole story, just the entry bit there.
Marvel claims to own the mutant concept, but that's it. TCP is ours, mostly. I own all characters in this story. Lyrics for "Throw Yourself Away" are sole property of Nickelback, from their 'Long Road' album. ANY resemble to any person(s) living or deceased is purely coincidental and unintentional. This all came from my sick, twisted little mind. Deal.
**
Baby's born on a bathroom floor,
Her mother prays that it'll never cry.
But nothin's wrong, you got your prom dress on,
When they ask, you'll say it isn't mine.
Concealer first, to give your pale cheeks that flawless, golden glow. Smoky brown eyeshadow to draw attention to your dark eyes, mascara to darken your full lashes. Clear lip gloss slides on smooth, making your lips look wet and kissable. One last pull of a comb through your wavy hair, and you're finished. A quick check in the mirror hanging on the back closet door, making sure that your new dress covers any remaining bulges. You look perfect; the perfect girl in the perfect dress, going to the perfect junior prom at the perfect private school. Your eyes catch on the new deadbolt on the door and you pause for a moment. Shaking your head, you turn to grab your clutch off the bed, and leave the room. All the while, hoping and praying that no one hears the plaintive cries coming from behind the locked door.
**
That's it for now. Will get the rest up when I get it written. *g* No, I don't plan on keep that style throughout the whole story, just the entry bit there.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-10-02 12:00 am (UTC)