| James in a hundred prompts; Het/Gen | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 5 2011, 01:23 PM (790 Views) | |
| Voxx | Dec 19 2011, 08:49 PM Post #16 |
Poor Twisted Me
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I just read all your prompts at once and I love them all but my favourite so far is "Loved". And, I absolutely adore the idea of it all. I'm looking forward to the next update. |
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| Broken, Beat & Scarred | Dec 21 2011, 12:35 PM Post #17 |
Thorn Within
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Lori and Stephanie, thanks for commenting.  007. Hold ”What do you mean 'a hold'?” James asked. ”Just that. Just fucking that. You need to have a hold on everything, be in charge.” ”No, I don't.” ”Yes, you fucking do. Either you want to tell fucking Newsted what he can play, when he can play, who he can play with, or you want to tell me what to play, how to play, when to play.” ”I'm allowed to have an opinion.” James' face was serious, and he looked somewhat pissed off. Understandable, I thought. Lars had a point, but I wished he would've listened to me when I told him that he couldn't just start telling James off. James had barely gotten out of rehab and he was practically a kid again, learning to live again. He got defensive really quickly and he got upset easily. He needed stability, routines, not random activities in the studio and arguments with his brothers. ”It's not just a fucking opinion, it's controlling. I'm an adult. I can take care of my crap.” James didn't say anything, instead, he just looked at Lars. Underneath his expression, underneath the seriousness and annoyance, I could see the uncertainty, sadness and anxiety. I really didn't want to interfere, but I thought that it would be the best for now. I had been pretending to make a sandwich for myself, but I stopped it and walked over to James. Lars was pacing around the room, muttering to himself. I crouched down in front of him, much like I sometimes crouched down in front of our son to explain something to him. I took his hand in mine, gave it a squeeze and waited for him to look at me. He didn't. ”Let's go home, James,” I finally told him. He didn't look me in the eyes but past me. I could see the tears in his eyes and my heart ached for him. He nodded discreetly and got up after I had done so. ”What? She gets to control you?” Lars asked. He was just trying to piss James off. ”Okay! That's it!” I snapped. ”I'm very disappointed in you. You said you wanted to work things out, and didn't I specifically tell you that you guys need to get to know each other again and that you need to respect each other's boundaries?” I looked at Lars and gave him my best ”don't-you-dare-fuck-with-me” look. ”New lines have been drawn. You need to respect them. Both of you. You will be able to work things out, but that will not happen if all you do is try to piss each other off. Right now, I am taking James home because I can see that nothing will get resolved here today. Stability, remember?” Lars nodded. I turned around and walked to James who was standing by the door, waiting for me. Kirk, Bob and Phil quietly said goodbye to us, Lars waited until we'd nearly gotten out of earshot and yelled out an apology. James took my hand in his as we walked out together. ”Thanks for being there.” I leaned closer to him, kissing his shoulder as he held onto my hand strongly. |
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| namenlos | Dec 22 2011, 07:05 PM Post #18 |
Was auch immer
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So cute!  And James and the other boys are really just like brothers. 
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| Broken, Beat & Scarred | Dec 24 2011, 10:05 AM Post #19 |
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Thorn Within
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Thanks for commenting, once again, Lori!  Here's another one, merry Christmas (even though this story isn't Christmassy haha)008. Shackles He took a deep breath. This was much more difficult than he had thought it would be. He'd already taken part in four sessions and hadn't yet said a thing. He'd stayed back twice to talk to the therapist, but he hadn't yet mustered the courage to actually speak up during the meeting. When Anna asked him how the meetings were going... He always said that he was the one to talk the most. He didn't want to tell her that he hadn't said a thing. He didn't want to disappoint her. He never had wanted to do that, but he had. He knew that he was disappointing her by not telling her the truth, but also by not telling her anything about how he was feeling. He just couldn't. She was part of the problem. Which was why he really should have talked to her, but also why he hadn't. He realized that he really did not want to admit to his wife that she was a reason for him to start drinking. It wasn't that she'd done anything bad. Actually, it was that she hadn't. She had always been so understanding. For as long as they'd known each other, she had always, always had his back. Even when he hadn't deserved it. And that made him feel bad. He wished that she would have done something bad to him, something that he could hold against her, something that he could use to justify his drinking. But she hadn't. It was always him. She had been faithful. He hadn't. She had always been honest. He hadn't. She had never messed up, done something so bad that he could really have blamed her for doing that. He had messed up like that. Of course she had done things that had pissed him off. Of course. And vice versa. But she had never done any of those things on purpose. One time she had cleaned up the entire house, after he'd been on a drinking binge and the whole place was filled with empty bottles of beer, vodka, wine, what-have-you, pizza boxes, some of them so old that he was afraid something might creep out of them, dirty clothes, the occasional vomit stain... She'd cleaned up the entire house and accidentally thrown away the lyrics he'd been working on. Yeah, he'd written them down on a napkin that had tomato sauce on it, so, she couldn't have known. And she hadn't done it on purpose. But then, one time that he had been pissed off at her, for suggesting that he get some help and enter rehab... again, something she had done to help him out, he had knowingly, on purpose and out of spite, and probably while a little inebriated, taken the novel she was editing – that was her job – from her desk and thrown it out with the trash. He'd never admitted to her that he had really done it, she was still convinced it had just disappeared or that she'd lost the stack of papers. James sighed again and looked at the blank paper in front of him. He grabbed a pen a started writing. ”Dear Anna, It's difficult for me to talk to you about this, because I hate disappointing you. But I need you to know this. I need to say these things to you, but I don't want to talk to you about them, because we both know it would end up being yet another screaming match. I know you want me to talk to you about my drinking, and the reason I haven't done that yet is because you are partly the reason I drink. No, I'm not blaming you. Not one bit. It's just that I feel that when I'm with you, you're always the better person of us two. It's like... Like you're the princess and I'm a fucking prisoner, shackled to the prison wall. You can do whatever you want and I'm just stuck.” He looked at the paper, crumbled it in his hand and started over. ”Anna, shackles. That's what it is. You ask me to tell you about my drinking, my problems. And the only way that it makes sense is that the problems are shackles. They hold me back. They don't let me be who I want to be, who you deserve me to be. I love you. Sometimes I hate you, because you love me, because you try to help me in any way you possibly can. Sometimes I can't take that. Sometimes I wish you were horrible, that I had a good reason to hate you, to blame you. But I don't. I want to work on our marriage, our relationship, our friendship. I really do. I don't think I have the courage to say that to your face. I'm afraid of what you're going to say. You've taken a lot of shit from me during the years. I'm afraid that you've had enough. That one day I'm going to come home and find you gone. I have a lot of fears like that. Maybe because of the shackles. When you're forced to be on your own, you start to have doubts. I know I'm the one that's been doing the forcing, but that doesn't change the outcome. I have doubts, I'm afraid. I don't know what else to say... J” |
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| Sekhmet49 | Feb 15 2012, 12:28 PM Post #20 |
Overkill
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Tragically beautiful! Good work
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| Broken, Beat & Scarred | Feb 16 2012, 12:00 AM Post #21 |
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Thorn Within
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Hi Sekhmet! Thanks for your comment! Here's another addition to this series of oneshots. Hope you (all) like it! 009. Broken She gasped as she entered a bedroom. ”What the hell is this?” ”What's what?” He followed her to the bedroom and saw her standing there, looking at a pile of glass shards on the floor. Her hand had flown up to cover her mouth, probably to hold back tears. At least, it seemed to him that whenever she held her hand over her mouth like that, a few minutes later she'd be crying her eyes out. ”This?” She pointed to the pile and glanced at James. ”Looks like it used to be a mirror.” He wasn't sure what was the big deal. A mirror, a broken one at that, so what? ”Used to...,” she repeated. ”Yeah, as in, it's broken,” he said, feeling a little stupid, pointing out the obvious like that. ”Who broke it?” He didn't know why she was asking him that – he'd never been in the house. He wouldn't know. ”Why?” ”Breaking a mirror is seven years worth of misfortune...” ”And?” ”And I want to know who the hell is going be on the receiving end of my wrath.” Now, he really didn't know why she was telling him that. But she sounded pissed off. Very, very pissed off. ”Huh?” ”That mirror... That was given to me by my mother. Who had gotten it from her mother. I was going to give it to my daughter.” His eyes rounded as he looked at her. ”Your... daughter?” She couldn't have a daughter. No way. She nodded, still staring at the pile. Then, she must have realized how her nod could be understood, as she turned to him, ”I mean, I don't have one yet, but... maybe one day.” She shrugged, sighed and looked at the pile again. His lips curled up to form a smile. ”A daughter?” She was mesmerized by that smile. She'd always been, but it seemed more... open this time. More loving than usual. Could he...? No, he didn't want to have kids. ”A daughter, yeah.” She nodded. He crouched down on the floor to examine the shards of glass, finally picking up a nail. ”Here's the culprit.” ”A nail?” ”Generally speaking, these should stay in the wall. This one obviously didn't. So, I guess it was loose or something like that... And then fell, dropping the mirror at the same time.” ”Great. Fantastic. Fucking nails.” Her hand went up to cover her mouth again. He rubbed her back slowly, pulling her closer. ”Listen, I'll buy you another mirror.” She shook her head. ”It's not the same.” ”I know it's not... But maybe we can start a new tradition, get a new heirloom that will one day be old. For our daughter.” ”Our...?” He nodded. ”You would...? With me...?” He nodded again. ”I didn't think you wanted kids.” ”I haven't always wanted to have kids,” he said and shrugged, not really wanting to discuss the matter further. It was enough for him that she knew he wanted kids, with her. Over the years, she had learned to read his mood, his tone of voice, the amount and quality of words he spoke, and right now, they suggested said that he didn't want to talk about this, them eventually having kids. She changed the subject. ”So... This mirror... Who gets the seven unlucky years?” ”Neither one of us. Screw the broken mirror.” |
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| Sekhmet49 | Feb 16 2012, 02:01 AM Post #22 |
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Overkill
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Lol, typically a man's answer to get out of uncomfortable discussions! Anyway, very good as always! So much unexplored and unsaid feelings in the air... I loved it!
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| Broken, Beat & Scarred | Feb 21 2012, 03:27 AM Post #23 |
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Thorn Within
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Thanks again for your comment, Sekhmet! Another one... And after this one, despite my plans, I've run out of prompts to post haha. But I will hopefully finish the next one quite soon-ish. 010. Precious If he let the feelings take charge of him, only one thing was important. Just one. It wasn't Metallica. It wasn't his wife. He looked at the bottle on the table and felt, on the one hand, happiness, exhilaration, anticipation, and on the other hand, guilt, anger, sadness. He knew he shouldn't. But he did. Nonetheless. He grabbed the bottle, considering his options. He could drink it, get drunk and stay at the studio. He could go to a bar, get drunk, find a random woman and spend the night with her. Or... He could go home to his wife. They'd already fought about his drinking. Well, they did that every day, at least once. He put the bottle back on the table and rubbed his face with his hands. He should go home. They had much too good a life to waste. And she'd given him an ultimatum – one had to go, alcohol or her. And while he didn't want her to leave, he wasn't sure if he wanted to stop drinking. It felt good. He could numb his feelings, the crappy ones, and feel... happy for a while. He reached a decision. He'd stay at the studio and pretend that he'd fallen asleep on the studio couch. Which sometimes he had done. He grabbed the bottle again and furrowed his brow as he saw something written on the label. ”You are precious.” It'd been her. She'd done that. She'd found his stash and she was trying to make him feel guilty by using the phrase he'd told her when they'd been dating for a while and he hadn't had the guts to tell her he loved her. Precious. Fuck. He picked up the phone, dialed his home number and waited for her to pick up the phone. She'd probably know, just by hearing his voice, what had happened. She was normally that good. Just one word and she could practically write his biography. ”Hello?” He hesitated. Was he going to do this? She would get pissed. She'd know he'd found the message. She'd known he had planned to drink. She'd leave. Or maybe her plan was to get him to think about all that. Maybe she wanted him to call. He sighed. ”Hi...” |
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| Sekhmet49 | Feb 21 2012, 08:26 AM Post #24 |
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Overkill
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Good as always!! You've run out of written stories to publish or out of prompts? If it's the last, I'm sure we could give you ideas!! 
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| Broken, Beat & Scarred | Feb 21 2012, 10:52 AM Post #25 |
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Thorn Within
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Thanks! Prompts I have, just haven't had the chance to write more stories. (Well, I got the next one more or less ready today when I was having coffee at the Uni haha.) I have a few ideas for the next prompts, but not much written down just yet. 
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| Metalicious | Feb 21 2012, 11:11 AM Post #26 |
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Overkill
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Just got all caught up. "Loved" was definitely my favourite. Neeeeeeeeed moooooore!!! |
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| Sekhmet49 | Feb 22 2012, 01:32 PM Post #27 |
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Overkill
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I understand completely! I have so many different ideas for different stories that I have trouble updating my own fic!! |
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| Voxx | Feb 23 2012, 08:56 AM Post #28 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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I just read the last few ones! My favourite was "Precious" I can just see a really strong woman taking the time to find his stash and then writing that phrase on it. It's so clever! Using a phrase that he used to say to her and turning it back on him, making his remember their past and how much he loves her. It's very poetic! I also love the fact that she didn't just toss his alcohol. She left it there, giving him a choice as to whether or not he will drink it. Loved it! I hope you find the time to write a few more (I know you're busy! But, I'm so greedy!) I still this think is a brilliant idea! Even if the prompts in order per say, they still paint a story and it's like we're seeing snapshots of his life.
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| namenlos | Mar 23 2012, 09:25 AM Post #29 |
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Was auch immer
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Loved them all.
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| Some_Kind_Of_Monster | Mar 24 2012, 01:20 PM Post #30 |
☠ (R.I.P) † Return Is Possible †
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More?  I hope
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