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Character file: Sikki Sixx.Character name: Sidonis Jay Fergison.
Nickname/stage name: Sikki Sixx.
Nationality: American/Native American.
Place of birth: Austin, Texas.
Date of birth: 13/07/1996
Eye colour: Emerald green/Toxic green/Radioactive green depending on light source.
Hair colour: Black.
Height: 6ft 1"
His mother, Sarah Fergison was a part time primary school teacher and a seamstress in a high end clothing shop. She was married to Ryan Joels, a foul tempered and spiteful man whom originally seemed ok. She was too scared to back out at that point, especially when Sikki was born not long after their marrage and his brother Beck not a year after since she was religious and didn't want her sons to be fatherless. His father was killed however before they truly came to know him since he was a part of the US navy. He was killed in a pirate attack in southern waters, when Sikki was 2 and Beck had just turned 1.
His mother home schooled him as
Messy business. Lazy
st r an g e
sh ap es an d
F o R m s
from the strange objects they happen to lay
A C R O S
Oneshot Wednesday - Moving house.
Painting textured wallpaper was the biggest pain in the ass ever when you were doing it by yourself and had no help. I would know, I've done it before many times, and it absolutely murders your back and spine. I would of also had to of do it again today, if it wasn't for my very... Interesting, nosy, and diverse group of friends which no matter what, loved making my life exciting, and at points somewhat irritating. It was a group package though, so you couldn't have one without the other. Lemme scroll it back a bit for you, and explain.
My names Alison- Alison Brown. 20 (ish, give or take a year or so) years of age, and supposed lead singer to the Ashtrack Rebels, an uprising group which have taken the local stages and press by storm. Oh, I may also be a graphics designer for the Rebolution fashion brand, self proclaimed procrastinator (which is true), and ninja (sadly not so true). Merch girl/designer to the Black Veil bri
Wild Ones Oneshot - Set me free.
With a curt dismissal from my current wood 'gathering duties' at the main Wild one base, by none other than the leader of this camp, Andy, the 'Prophet', I almost immediately sprang to my feet and scurried to pick up my violin with a huge grin plastered upon my lips. I'd been getting all my jobs done as fast as possible so I could finally get back to what I loved doing most. Andy just laughed as I raced off, making a few rude comments about what exactly I was so eager to do but I didn't let them bother me, not when it was the highlight of my day at last. The case holding my prized violin was a bit battered and torn, but I always repaired whenever I had the time with what ever scraps of thread and fabric I could find.
Without even having to think, I let my body guide me through the masses and ranks of the other wild ones still going about their camp obligations, ducking and dodging as I went, passing CC whom was still
When The Lights Go Out in London - Part 2
"So what you wanna do now?" I asked with a slight smile, and he laughed faintly. "How's about some food and a film? We have plenty time to kill..." Aaron trailed off after his polite suggestion before I re-noticed something from before. "Ah... Well. First, how's about a clean shirt? My blood is still all over you."
I rubbed the back of my head in embarrassment, the pain from my previous wound only now reminding me that it was there as if to rub in the blunder even more. "Oh bugger, forgot about that. You have anywhere I could clean up a bit?" He asked and I nodded in response. "Better, I can lend you a new shirt and wash yours while you freshen up, while I look through the cupboards for some food?"
Reaching a mutual agreement, we rose from our seats on the sofa and directed him to the bathroom while I went to grab a shirt that would fit him 'properly'. With my wardrobe, it was easier than I was expec
Lights Go Out in London - Part 1 (updated)
The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol in this bar was currently so strong it almost made my eyes water. Remind me again why I let my best friend drag me in here again? Oh wait... I remember, it was to celebrate our new record deal. Nuclear Blast had agreed to do a 3 year contract with us, and publish/advertise our album in return for some of the profits. I say some, because I was a damn good negotiator and we read the small print of our contract with them, calling them out on their prison-like sentence. Honestly, I was just following the advice of the greats before us like Nikki Sixx, who film-flammed Electra records to get their masters back for one of their albums. Big mistake on the companies part. If I learnt anything from reading 'The Dirt', it was learn business to do good business.
The Ashtrack Rebels (or myself and my friend, my bassist and drummer were already there apparently) were flying out to Los Angeles two
We just wanted a room! - 4/4 Ashtrack Rebels. Outside the venue after a long talk and avoiding the manager via hiding behind ALL the bins, we stood watching life go by pretty much. We were still all taking, before I remembered something I had been meaning to do all day. "Yeah... We're gonna have to find a way to get to the next venue tomorrow now... I have been meaning to do that but totally has totally been out of whack and completely unplanned." Needles laughed beside Aaron and Vincent. "Don't we know how that feels!" They all exchanged a knowing look and I couldn't help but feel bad for them. One time they were in the same situation as us, traveling from venue to venue each night in a van, sometimes only having a single hour to travel from one country to the other and reach the venue in time to preform. I was about to start saying goodbye, when The AvD pulled everyone into a circle that we weren't involved in, and lots of hushed whispering went on as far as I knew.
After a while, they all broke u
We just wanted a room! - P.3 AR 4shot "The one fucking time I forget to wear steelies is the one time that I catch my foot on the fucking symbol!" Sikki was grumbling after we cleaned ourselves up using the showers backstage. I just laughed at him. "Suckerrrr..." I taunted and he sent a glare in my direction but was smirking anyway. We were currently chilling after the concert in our dressing room. Thankfully they had actually given us some place to CHANGE in, otherwise we would of most definitely kicked off big time, waaaaay more than Ally did before at the front desk. Beth was brushing her hair as she turned to me. "Didn't want to turn around, did I?!" She pointed the bristled weapon at me to punctuate her sentence, and I didn't doubt the fact that she could probably bludgeon me to death with the thing if she wanted to, so I may of adjusted my seat on the sofa so I could bolt if I needed to. "Well we had a concert to play Demented. And we were DEFINITELY late- we barely made it on stage in time!"
We just wanted a room! - part 2 AR 4 shot. We were back at the venue now, and everyone was ready to preform backstage. Well... Beth was still pissed at us but had agreed to set it aside until after our big gig. I use that term loosely, since we were lower on the setlist than everyone else... And that fucking sucked. Big time. Taking to the stage in a decent venue was certainly a different experience, we were far too used to playing in bars and other dodgy places. We were welcomed as warmly as any other opening band- with people barely paying attention and a few boos. On the plus side however, our little 'publicity stunt' earlier meant a few people had actually come to see US and no one else who were playing, so we had a few cheers rise up as we walked into the limelight. I had my favourite guitar in hand, Beth with hers, Sikki with his custom made drumsticks, and of course Ally with her bass. By now, we were all in our stage clothes and warpaint.
Like Mötley Crüe, Greenday, Iron Maiden
Darling, Don't You DareTo the girl who skips dinner,
Because her reflection hurts more than
To the boy who wears sweatshirts
On hot summer days,
Because he doesn’t want his mother to cry over his
To the boy who weeps uncontrollably
Until he falls asleep,
Because it’s the only way to escape into his
To the girl who spends her days in her bedroom,
Because the dark is more peaceful than her
To the child who gets angry,
Because no one understands.
To the teens who self-harm,
To the ones in recovery,
To the ones that just can’t do it anymore…
For the girl who skips meals
And the boy who wears sweatshirts,
For the boy who cries,
The girl who hides,
And the ones who just can’t do it anymore.
You’ve come this far.
Don’t you dare give up on it, now.
I am the daughter of a sailor.There is pure sea water
rushing through my veins
& my vocabulary can be
just as colorful.
how do I begin to tell you
we all have jungles growing
in our chests?-
by human hands?
I like to pretend
it’s Draco residing
in this chest of mine-
clogging my lungs,
I have forgotten
how to write
or anything with a shred
I have no space left within myself
for celestial, fire breathing dragons-
because I realize now
when I look in the mirror,
I do not see my father.
I screamMy scream is loud.
My scream is honest.
My scream is desperate.
My scream is filled with truth.
Why would nobody hear me?
You're Not DepressedDepression isn’t what you think it is.
You’re just sad.
If you and your boyfriend or girlfriend just broke up, you’re not depressed.
If you are longing to be with that one girl or boy, you’re not depressed.
If you really want to meet that one celebrity, you’re not depressed.
If you haven’t gotten a text from any of your friends all day and want to talk to someone, you’re not depressed.
If you cried in the shower last night because you want that guy to be your boyfriend,
Or sat on your bed last night with your face in your hands wanting to be with that one girl,
You’re not depressed.
Until you have hated yourself,
Felt no self-worth,
Felt like you’d never amount to anything
And are useless,
You want to lie in bed all day and do nothing but think,
Think you are never good enough for anyone,
Don’t deserve anyone,
Lost any interest in drawing, writing, reading, singing, etc…
You don’t want to be around anyone, just by
dearly belovedthese days
your name has been slipping
in and out of my rib cage
my heart forgets to beat.
how even after all these months i still
don't want to believe that
you're dead. how during the
first couple of weeks i prayed
to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know
if death tasted sweet to you. how once,
when the monsters in my head
didn't let me sleep, i
wrote you three poems and then
you were a supernova that
lit up my life for
a few radiant moments before,
like all good things in this
you came to an end.
the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.
but i think that,
most of all,
i hope you no longer
remember what pain
Let me dieGo away
Leave me alone
And let me die
Of this world
I don't want to live
Because there's no light
At the end of this tunnel
So I'll just end my life
Don't try to stop me
And we'll meet again
On the other side
Outside this dark tunnel
I am afraid of monsters like you.Bones and sinew cling
to the part of me
that is not human,
the part of me that
Your lips are ready
to pounce mine when
you lace my neck with
the collar of hope.
It hangs too tightly.
Only GirlsOnly Girls can suffer from weight loss,
can cut and cut until their blood is all gone.
Only girls can cry out their angry emotions,
and watch them pool from their eyes like the raging oceans.
Emotions are qualities reserved for women women only,
without them, what men would bask in their glory.
Only women can abort an unwanted fetus,
when a man mourns his lost child, he's nothing but a bigoted sexist.
Only girls can wear their hair long,
put on cake loads of make up, and twirl their hips to a song.
Strip down in public to your bra and underwear,
only girls will get angry when their objectified by eyes everywhere.
Only girls can swallow the pills,
because boys are never depressed, they only grow ill.
Only a woman can claw at her defenseless husband,
and when he tries to defend himself, he's considered little to nothing.
Cry 'sexual-harassment' in the midst of your workplace,
only girls can get away with this, when nothing was done to them in the first place.
Abuse is impossible if it ha
Wrists.Wrists are not made,
To be cut up by cold blades.
Blood was meant to stay in your veins,
Not to be drained.
From your body,
You're stronger than that,
I know a person can only take,
Until they break.
And you have your doubts,
And when you lay in bed,
The pain is all you think about.
But you're so much more,
Than your heart aches.
So much more,
Than your demons.
Even if you feel,
Like your dying,
And you are through with trying,
Because all you've been doing lately is crying.
I want you to know,
That no, you're not alone.
And you re going to survive.
Please just drop your knife,
Because you're going to,
Make it out alive.
UntitledIf I die tomorrow,
I want my funeral to play music
At my wake,
Which I listened to in life
And made me feel alive again.
Because I know, others will need reminding.
If I die tomorrow,
I want everyone to dress in black
At my funeral
and wear eyeliner,
As though it were war paint.
Like I did, every Saturday morning.
Not because it represents my
old long gone
Habits of sorrow.
But because it's what I did,
To remind myself I wasn't alone.
Because they will need some strength, too.
If I die tomorrow,
I want the flowers placed around
To be potted, planted
Not cut from life and decaying, like me.
Because when I'm in the grave,
And people come to
I want them to reflect on how
Even in death...
I was too kind, to be cruel...
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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