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tampered2006-08-10 01:26 am
bloodyuseless.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-08-10 01:26 am
Log: Static
When; No Self-Control Day
Rating; R for drug use
Characters; Frederick Abberline (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bloodyuseless) and Jack Sparrow (13_year_captain) to start, open to more later.
Summary; No impulse control means liquor, drugs, and sex. Also violence, but Frank's not the sort to punch out anyone he doesn't hate personally.
Log;
Frederick stumbled away from the 'computer' thing, draining the last of his drink. The bottle was only barely touched, and still so very full - gloriously strong. His vision was already doing incredibly strange things. He'd wait like a good boy, though. He was raised right, damnit, and you always shared when you said you would. The only problem was, that the angrier he got the more his thoughts replayed things from his past, the more he saw Victoria - he needed to be very drunk, or very high, or both, or unconscious - he just needed to stop. The rage at first was so strong he screamed to himself until he felt a pull in his throat, and then turned to the bottle.
He heard a noise at the front, a sort of offbeat pawing, and somehow made his way to the door. His hair was disheveled and his tie undone (his jacket had vanished some time ago), and he swayed a bit as he opened the door. "Hello darling," he deadpanned. Fuck but the man looked exactly like him. How awkward. At least I'm not dressed like a bloody circus trick, he thought.
Rating; R for drug use
Characters; Frederick Abberline (
bloodyuseless) and Jack Sparrow (13_year_captain) to start, open to more later.Summary; No impulse control means liquor, drugs, and sex. Also violence, but Frank's not the sort to punch out anyone he doesn't hate personally.
Log;
Frederick stumbled away from the 'computer' thing, draining the last of his drink. The bottle was only barely touched, and still so very full - gloriously strong. His vision was already doing incredibly strange things. He'd wait like a good boy, though. He was raised right, damnit, and you always shared when you said you would. The only problem was, that the angrier he got the more his thoughts replayed things from his past, the more he saw Victoria - he needed to be very drunk, or very high, or both, or unconscious - he just needed to stop. The rage at first was so strong he screamed to himself until he felt a pull in his throat, and then turned to the bottle.
He heard a noise at the front, a sort of offbeat pawing, and somehow made his way to the door. His hair was disheveled and his tie undone (his jacket had vanished some time ago), and he swayed a bit as he opened the door. "Hello darling," he deadpanned. Fuck but the man looked exactly like him. How awkward. At least I'm not dressed like a bloody circus trick, he thought.