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Oct. 16th, 2010 03:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mini_nanowrimo for 300 words a day. It seemed like a reasonable number, I can manage much more than that on good writing days but I tried to keep in mind that I don't always want to write every day, therefore I aimed low.
I actually finished the meme yesterday, so behind the cut are 13 drabbles. Some much better than others, because I was reminded that drabbles are damn hard to do well.
1. Gerard/Mikey -- heat of the day
2. Mikey and Ryan gen
3. Mikey/Pete -- Shakespeare
4. Gerard/Gabe -- visions
5. Gerard/Ray -- explosives
6. Mikey&Ryan -- detonation
7. Bob/Ray -- sunrise
8. Bob/Ray -- happy
9. Mikey/Ray -- ice
10. Mikey/Pete -- discussing basses
Bonus Gerard and Brendon, wind
Mikey and Grace, Black Parade skeleton
Gerard/Gabe -- visions
Gabe's body is warm and he's got his arms wrapped around Gerard, holding him close.
"Look," Gabe says, and his voice is hoarse, muffled through his mask. "Look, Gerard."
Gerard does, stands on the tiny balcony and takes in the buildings of Battery City, the poisoned smog that always lingers, the people who scurry to order like lobotomised rats.
"We need to fight," Gabe says. "We need to start a fucking revolution."
Gerard pictures breaking free, taking a deep breath of air that's not tainted. He swallows, says, "What if I fail?"
Gabe's grip tightens and he says, "You won't."
Gerard/Mikey -- heat of the day
Gerard wiggles from under the Trans Am.
There's oil streaked across his cheek and his hair is stringy and sweat-soaked, bright against the dirt. He squints as he looks up at Mikey.
Mikey takes in the scattered parts, each one battered and scavenged. How Gerard's fingers are cut and bleeding. Mikey kneels and holds out his hand, shading Gerard's face from the overhead sun.
"How's it going?"
"It's not," Gerard replies, sounding defeated.
There's a strand of hair clinging to Gerard's face. Mikey pushes it back, letting his touch linger, his fingers against Gerard's neck as he says, "It will."
Mikey/Ray -- ice x2
The ice machine groans, age stiffened parts protesting as more cubes are formed. Mikey scoops them out with his hands.
The sheets around Ray are soaked, both body fluids and water and Mikey drops painfully to his knees. His hands tremble as he packs the ice into the t-shirts, making bundles which he presses against Ray's fever-flushed skin. Mikey leans forward, elbows against the bed and forehead against Ray's chest. He can feel Ray's heart beating, too fast and stuttering, and Mikey's scared, so fucking scared.
"Don't leave us," he says, his voice cracking. "Please."
Again the ice machine groans.
"Close your eyes," Ray says, pleased when immediately Mikey obeys.
He's stretched out on a stripped bed, clothes thrown to one side and Ray takes in the length of Mikey's legs, the way he clutches the mattress. Ray sits, and cold water drips through his fingers as he draws the ice cube along the scar that runs over Mikey's ribs.
Mikey hisses but remains still, and Ray watches as water trails over his skin, creating gleaming pathways.
They're beautiful in their simplicity, and Mikey smiles slightly when Ray extents the lines into letters, a R and T staking Ray's claim.
Bob/Ray -- sunrise.
The sound of an engine is faint, but quickly gets louder.
Ray keeps hold of his gun, ready if needed, but relaxes as Bob's motorcycle appears from the darkness.
It pulls to a stop, the engine cutting off abruptly. Bob stands and dismounts, removing his helmet.
His hair is long now and he pushes it back as he sits next to Ray, says, "It's fucking early, Toro."
It's what Bob always says, the same way he moves his hand so their fingers are brushing as they sit in silence, waiting for the sunrise.
Together to greet yet another new day.
Bob/Ray -- happy
Bob knocks on the planks that cover the diner door.
He can hear music, the thud of feet, but no one answers. Finally, he goes inside.
"Bob, you came." Ray's grinning but Bob's looking at the people dancing. Frank twirling the kid, Gerard and Mikey swaying close, Show Pony grinding on Dr Death's lap.
It's music, movement and laugher, so different to Bob's usual solitude. Considering leaving, he stops when Ray comes close and holds up his hands. "Show me your jazz hands?"
Bob starts to say no, but the fact is, he's missed this. He holds up his hands.
Mikey/Pete -- Shakespeare
"It's a classic theme, it worked for Shakespeare"
Mikey gives Pete an unimpressed look. "So did tragic kings and witches."
"True," Pete allows, using his fingers to tease out the knot in Mikey's hair. "It'd get you into the city."
Mikey winces when Pete's fingers catch. "I get in just fine."
"Come on, for me," Pete says.
"Viola was a woman anyway," Mikey says. "Your plan doesn't hold up."
"So do a reverse Viola." Pete whispers into Mikey's ear. "You'd look amazing in stockings."
Mikey turns his head, his lips brushing against Pete's. "All you had to do was ask."
Mikey/Pete -- discussing basses
Pete holds out his hands, says, "I miss the music."
It's not something Pete says often, because the music is still out there. Songs on the radio screaming defiance, many with Pete's words. But it's not that he misses, it's creating his own rhythm, being the backbone of something that matters.
"I took one of my basses." Mikey takes hold of Pete's hand, uses his fingertips to trace over non-existent callouses. "I used it to ghost a Drac."
Pete curls his fingers over Mikey's. "You're fucking brutal Mikeyway."
"You know it," Mikey says, and then, quieter. "I miss it too."
Gerard/Ray -- explosives.
"Hit the button and you're five seconds to jump clear," Ray repeats once more.
Gerard nods and doesn't say that he knows. Ray's told him a million times, same as Frank and Dr Death, how Mikey would if he weren't so angry and actually talking to Gerard.
"You're sure?" Ray's said this too, and Gerard is sure. It has to be him that drives the truck into the compound, steer it to its target and fiery destruction.
"I'm sure," he says, and Ray presses a kiss against Gerard's mouth, says, "I'll be waiting."
A be careful, not a goodbye.
Mikey and Grace -- Black Parade skeleton.
Grace crouches, staring at the bones.
They're different than usual, the remains not animal or Drac, and she cautiously pokes at a black clad shoulder, both fascinated and horrified when the bones settle and shift, collapsing the fabric.
"What is it?" Grace asks, glad it's Mikey who's here, because she knows he'll actually tell her.
"It's before," Mikey says softly, and Grace is about to ask more, because that's no kind of answer.
Except, when she looks over she sees Mikey has his head bowed, his hand splayed on the tunic covering the bones.
Grace says nothing, before is enough.
Mikey and Ryan gen
They find him on the outskirts of Battery City.
Clothes tattered and eyes wild he snarls, attempting to hide behind the spewed out guts of a broken generator.
"I'll go," Mikey says, and steps over crumpled metal. He moves slowly, talking softly all the while.
Close and he slips off his jacket which he drops near the boy, says, "I'm Mikey."
The boy doesn't reply, just shivers, his back against scarred metal.
"We won't hurt you," Mikey says and knows he has to take a gamble, he starts to walk back. "We've got food and water."
Mikey and Ryan -- detonation.
Mikey's on watch when he hears the explosion.
Heart thundering he runs toward a sand-dune, one where the sky's glowing red behind it. Scrambling to the top, Mikey drops to his knees, raygun drawn, says, "Ryan?"
Ryan's standing on scorched ground, wildly firing at stationary targets. A barrel, a rock, a pile of cans.
He looks up, yells, "They're still back there."
Mikey stands and holsters his own raygun, waving away the others. "I know."
Ryan stills, gun held lax and skin cast red by a flaming barrel. "I miss them."
"Well find them," Mikey says, and means every word.
Gerard and Brendon -- wind
Brendon runs, so fast and long that when they stop he's gasping for breath. Pulling a control out of his pocket, Gerard aims it at the boundary wall and a seam appears, thin at first but widening into a door. Brendon stares and Gerard says, "Escape hatch, come on."
Gerard steps inside and Brendon follows.
Gerard walks, says, "It's not far."
Brendon nods, even though Gerard can't actually see him.
Soon, he sees a strip of light -- too bright and the wrong colour -- Brendon's heart racing as they step outside, and finally, the wind blows against his face.
mini_nanowrimo for 300 words a day. It seemed like a reasonable number, I can manage much more than that on good writing days but I tried to keep in mind that I don't always want to write every day, therefore I aimed low.I actually finished the meme yesterday, so behind the cut are 13 drabbles. Some much better than others, because I was reminded that drabbles are damn hard to do well.
1. Gerard/Mikey -- heat of the day
2. Mikey and Ryan gen
3. Mikey/Pete -- Shakespeare
4. Gerard/Gabe -- visions
5. Gerard/Ray -- explosives
6. Mikey&Ryan -- detonation
7. Bob/Ray -- sunrise
8. Bob/Ray -- happy
9. Mikey/Ray -- ice
10. Mikey/Pete -- discussing basses
Bonus Gerard and Brendon, wind
Mikey and Grace, Black Parade skeleton
Gerard/Gabe -- visions
Gabe's body is warm and he's got his arms wrapped around Gerard, holding him close.
"Look," Gabe says, and his voice is hoarse, muffled through his mask. "Look, Gerard."
Gerard does, stands on the tiny balcony and takes in the buildings of Battery City, the poisoned smog that always lingers, the people who scurry to order like lobotomised rats.
"We need to fight," Gabe says. "We need to start a fucking revolution."
Gerard pictures breaking free, taking a deep breath of air that's not tainted. He swallows, says, "What if I fail?"
Gabe's grip tightens and he says, "You won't."
Gerard/Mikey -- heat of the day
Gerard wiggles from under the Trans Am.
There's oil streaked across his cheek and his hair is stringy and sweat-soaked, bright against the dirt. He squints as he looks up at Mikey.
Mikey takes in the scattered parts, each one battered and scavenged. How Gerard's fingers are cut and bleeding. Mikey kneels and holds out his hand, shading Gerard's face from the overhead sun.
"How's it going?"
"It's not," Gerard replies, sounding defeated.
There's a strand of hair clinging to Gerard's face. Mikey pushes it back, letting his touch linger, his fingers against Gerard's neck as he says, "It will."
Mikey/Ray -- ice x2
The ice machine groans, age stiffened parts protesting as more cubes are formed. Mikey scoops them out with his hands.
The sheets around Ray are soaked, both body fluids and water and Mikey drops painfully to his knees. His hands tremble as he packs the ice into the t-shirts, making bundles which he presses against Ray's fever-flushed skin. Mikey leans forward, elbows against the bed and forehead against Ray's chest. He can feel Ray's heart beating, too fast and stuttering, and Mikey's scared, so fucking scared.
"Don't leave us," he says, his voice cracking. "Please."
Again the ice machine groans.
"Close your eyes," Ray says, pleased when immediately Mikey obeys.
He's stretched out on a stripped bed, clothes thrown to one side and Ray takes in the length of Mikey's legs, the way he clutches the mattress. Ray sits, and cold water drips through his fingers as he draws the ice cube along the scar that runs over Mikey's ribs.
Mikey hisses but remains still, and Ray watches as water trails over his skin, creating gleaming pathways.
They're beautiful in their simplicity, and Mikey smiles slightly when Ray extents the lines into letters, a R and T staking Ray's claim.
Bob/Ray -- sunrise.
The sound of an engine is faint, but quickly gets louder.
Ray keeps hold of his gun, ready if needed, but relaxes as Bob's motorcycle appears from the darkness.
It pulls to a stop, the engine cutting off abruptly. Bob stands and dismounts, removing his helmet.
His hair is long now and he pushes it back as he sits next to Ray, says, "It's fucking early, Toro."
It's what Bob always says, the same way he moves his hand so their fingers are brushing as they sit in silence, waiting for the sunrise.
Together to greet yet another new day.
Bob/Ray -- happy
Bob knocks on the planks that cover the diner door.
He can hear music, the thud of feet, but no one answers. Finally, he goes inside.
"Bob, you came." Ray's grinning but Bob's looking at the people dancing. Frank twirling the kid, Gerard and Mikey swaying close, Show Pony grinding on Dr Death's lap.
It's music, movement and laugher, so different to Bob's usual solitude. Considering leaving, he stops when Ray comes close and holds up his hands. "Show me your jazz hands?"
Bob starts to say no, but the fact is, he's missed this. He holds up his hands.
Mikey/Pete -- Shakespeare
"It's a classic theme, it worked for Shakespeare"
Mikey gives Pete an unimpressed look. "So did tragic kings and witches."
"True," Pete allows, using his fingers to tease out the knot in Mikey's hair. "It'd get you into the city."
Mikey winces when Pete's fingers catch. "I get in just fine."
"Come on, for me," Pete says.
"Viola was a woman anyway," Mikey says. "Your plan doesn't hold up."
"So do a reverse Viola." Pete whispers into Mikey's ear. "You'd look amazing in stockings."
Mikey turns his head, his lips brushing against Pete's. "All you had to do was ask."
Mikey/Pete -- discussing basses
Pete holds out his hands, says, "I miss the music."
It's not something Pete says often, because the music is still out there. Songs on the radio screaming defiance, many with Pete's words. But it's not that he misses, it's creating his own rhythm, being the backbone of something that matters.
"I took one of my basses." Mikey takes hold of Pete's hand, uses his fingertips to trace over non-existent callouses. "I used it to ghost a Drac."
Pete curls his fingers over Mikey's. "You're fucking brutal Mikeyway."
"You know it," Mikey says, and then, quieter. "I miss it too."
Gerard/Ray -- explosives.
"Hit the button and you're five seconds to jump clear," Ray repeats once more.
Gerard nods and doesn't say that he knows. Ray's told him a million times, same as Frank and Dr Death, how Mikey would if he weren't so angry and actually talking to Gerard.
"You're sure?" Ray's said this too, and Gerard is sure. It has to be him that drives the truck into the compound, steer it to its target and fiery destruction.
"I'm sure," he says, and Ray presses a kiss against Gerard's mouth, says, "I'll be waiting."
A be careful, not a goodbye.
Mikey and Grace -- Black Parade skeleton.
Grace crouches, staring at the bones.
They're different than usual, the remains not animal or Drac, and she cautiously pokes at a black clad shoulder, both fascinated and horrified when the bones settle and shift, collapsing the fabric.
"What is it?" Grace asks, glad it's Mikey who's here, because she knows he'll actually tell her.
"It's before," Mikey says softly, and Grace is about to ask more, because that's no kind of answer.
Except, when she looks over she sees Mikey has his head bowed, his hand splayed on the tunic covering the bones.
Grace says nothing, before is enough.
Mikey and Ryan gen
They find him on the outskirts of Battery City.
Clothes tattered and eyes wild he snarls, attempting to hide behind the spewed out guts of a broken generator.
"I'll go," Mikey says, and steps over crumpled metal. He moves slowly, talking softly all the while.
Close and he slips off his jacket which he drops near the boy, says, "I'm Mikey."
The boy doesn't reply, just shivers, his back against scarred metal.
"We won't hurt you," Mikey says and knows he has to take a gamble, he starts to walk back. "We've got food and water."
Mikey and Ryan -- detonation.
Mikey's on watch when he hears the explosion.
Heart thundering he runs toward a sand-dune, one where the sky's glowing red behind it. Scrambling to the top, Mikey drops to his knees, raygun drawn, says, "Ryan?"
Ryan's standing on scorched ground, wildly firing at stationary targets. A barrel, a rock, a pile of cans.
He looks up, yells, "They're still back there."
Mikey stands and holsters his own raygun, waving away the others. "I know."
Ryan stills, gun held lax and skin cast red by a flaming barrel. "I miss them."
"Well find them," Mikey says, and means every word.
Gerard and Brendon -- wind
Brendon runs, so fast and long that when they stop he's gasping for breath. Pulling a control out of his pocket, Gerard aims it at the boundary wall and a seam appears, thin at first but widening into a door. Brendon stares and Gerard says, "Escape hatch, come on."
Gerard steps inside and Brendon follows.
Gerard walks, says, "It's not far."
Brendon nods, even though Gerard can't actually see him.
Soon, he sees a strip of light -- too bright and the wrong colour -- Brendon's heart racing as they step outside, and finally, the wind blows against his face.
