(no subject)
Oct. 16th, 2010 03:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsI've just joined up for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
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.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 05:04 pm (UTC)I quite enjoyed doing my recipe translations for
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 05:19 pm (UTC)I enjoyed wrisomifu too but got frustrated at some comments wondering why the prolific writers had joined. So I'm going to try this new comm.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-19 07:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-21 10:20 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading, and the comments :)
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 03:43 pm (UTC)Sadly all it's done is whetted my appetite to write actual plotty killjoys fic. That wasn't supposed to happen!
Oh, and a question, I hope you don't mind. Those star things Show Pony wears, what do you guys call them? I'd say tights but know that's wrong.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 03:54 pm (UTC)What kind of plotty killjoys fic did all of this inspire?
Questions are always okay! It looks like Show Pony's wearing spandex leggings to me. Tights are generally thinner material and often have feet.
Also: That bit with Mikey and Grace and the Before made me think of your Vid-verse, spun out cock-eyed. Not sure what that *means* yet, but there's something very sparkly in that idea...
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 04:19 pm (UTC)Well, if I answered without thinking it through, and based on a comment I just posted, it would be one where Ray gets sick and Mikey goes off to Battery City to barter for antibiotics, but all he has to trade is himself.
However, as I at least try to keep my OTT h/c damped down, it's the story that'll include Bob the mechanic, and Mikey stealing one of Korse's motorbikes and wiping out on it -- and ha, this is me keeping the h/c down -- and how Bob barely tolerates zone runners and he's suddenly faced with one of the most famous groups of all who expect him to put the bike back together and Bob isn't a miracle worker, but they seem to think he is and suddenly from being comfortable with just Patrick he's suddenly got all these people in his space, expecting him to talk and he ends up babysitting Mikey one day and Bob is not amused at that at all, except in the way he actually ends up enjoying the company.
Which is the start of it all, and they become friends and Bob starts going to visit every now and then, and when he catches Patrick's knowing look Bob snaps he's going there to take spark plugs okay?
And suddenly Bob looks up and realises he's become a known friend of the Killjoys, which is a damn dangerous position, but somehow he doesn't care, even when his workshop is turned over by Korse's men.
Of course Pete's involved and one day he gets word to Patrick that there's going to be a mass attack on the killjoys and they need to get to safety and Bob knows it's suicide to warn them this late but he still grabs the bike he's been putting back together for months now -- piece by scavenged piece -- and drives to the diner but it's too late, the place has gone up in flames and there are dracs everywhere and then Bob suddenly sees the Trans Am, Frank and Ray hanging out the windows, exchanging fire and Bob knows he can either go back to his home or go help them.
So he does.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 04:37 pm (UTC)OH TERRI.
I love this story! Please please write it!
Would strange bribery help? I could pull that wolfish bit together into something for you - it's shaping up to be Bob/Mikey...
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 05:05 pm (UTC)I need to finish my help Pakistan story first, and my Pete/Mikey, but I'm not joining any exchanges this year so Bob the mechanic would fit in nicely for that period.
I just need to sort out pairings, in my head my killjoys verse is a huge gsf where they take comfort when they can, and love each other deeply. I can't see Bob going for that easily.
Also, while bribes aren't necessary, I shall go \o/ for wolfish Bob/Mikey.
And because I got carried away fic wise, thank you for the question answer.
And yeah, I can get how the Grace drabble would fit with that verse. Though it does make me think of one of them getting stuck in a wrong video and just fading away :(
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 05:08 pm (UTC)What exactly is mini nano comm thingy???? Is it less than the usual nano 50,ooo thing(because I don't want to write 50,000 words in a month it might stunt my creativity..I like being free flowing
Plotty Dust Verse stuff would be good. I envision that I'll have to revisit mine after how I ended the one I just finished(which means I get to world build with the made up cities I created.)
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 05:16 pm (UTC)It's much less. Basically you pledge you're going to write something for the month. Anything from 100 words a day to the sky's the limit. It seemed like a nice challenge.
Plots are hard! But also cool, depending on how they're going at the time.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 05:23 pm (UTC)ooooooosss. So really as long as you write something?..or does it have to be just one fic? because I tend to write lots of bingo fills at this time and am also working on challenge fics(back in January I never guessed I'd ever willingly sign up for challenges...just write whatever popped into my head)
Plot can be hard. And if a plot starts to just roll on it's own it makes me squee with joy.
as all way's I'm nervous about posting my dust verse story(not that I think it sucks...because no...but I have kind of not used the constraints that seem to be popping up as canon and fanon and it makes me wonder if people will like it....Hi I'm a Nervous Nelly*waves*)
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 07:47 pm (UTC)I've got the Pete/Mikey kicking around in my brain - it's a toss-up whether it's going to be a chunk of Traveling show - incorporating some of the bits that you've seen - or something in Expressions Verse [I've got a little bit of something there already, and have been prodding at it to see if it will grow.]. I hit a HUGE breakthrough on TS overall - though, interestingly, it involves everyone [and I mean EVERYONE] but My Chem. That's what I've mainly been spinning out recently.
Killjoys GSF is very pretty in my head. *__* But yeah, I can see how that would be a difficult thing to incorporate Bob into, considering how you've written it so far. I suppose you can always start with a Bob/Ray or a Bob/Mikey, with the potential for relationships shifting and expanding over time. You know, something that he doesn't even realize he's in until it's happening? Not that you have to go that route, of course, but there are definite entry points in the snips you've shared so far.
:D I might pretend that it's proper bribery, since it seems like my fic gets finished when I'm writing it for some I adore.
No problem. I'm glad to help.
Though it does make me think of one of them getting stuck in a wrong video and just fading away :(
:O Yikes! That's so sad. I know you prolly had a specific individual or situation in mind there, but what struck me is it could be any member of the Parade itself that Mikey and Grace find. I mean, they are out in the desert, which is a wasteland and is therefore not that far off from the desolation that TBP is set in. I just really like the idea of how all their AU constructs have bleed-through potential.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 10:19 pm (UTC)Mostly I'm just thrilled that you're enjoying your writing so much right now. That makes me very happy.
I keep thinking about poor Bob wandering over and coming across an orgy going on, and then backing away slowly and never coming back. Which shouldn't be funny as I don't want that to happen at all, but I just keep imagining his face as he pushes back the boards and is all. WTF!?
Bob/Ray would be nice though. Really I just want to run with my spark plugs theme. Because Bob's all kinds of romantic like that.
Well then, take it as me accepting your bribe and waiting eagerly for the resulting words.
Oh, I like your idea better. One of the parade getting lost, alone in the desert and just stumbling forward until he drops and dies. I wonder if he'd go back there, what with them being more like ghosts attached to each world. This has the possibility to tangle my mind :)
Pete!
Date: 2010-10-16 10:44 pm (UTC)~~~
He wakes to cold, cold and white. For a long moment, all he can think is I'm dead. Then the shivers settle in, and he twitches, tries to wrap his arms around himself, tries to huddle down and get warm. But he can't move his arms. Frantic jerks just rattle metal and set off an alarm. He tries to force his eyes open, but they are so heavy. There's movement all around him, the mutter of unfamiliar voices and hands on him, holding him down. They burn on his skin, he's so cold cant get warm is stuck stuck in the snow and where where where is Patrick? The voices are soothing, words repeating Pete and repeat. They weave a blanket over him, smothering him pushing him back down to quiet and dark.
When Pete next wakes, he gasps, sucking in air like a drowning man breaking the waters surface.
"Breathe, Pete." The quiet voice is familiar and he clings to it.
He blinks, crust on his eyes tugging at his lashes. His mouth tastes like plastic and it hurts. Pete breathes through his nose, is overwhelmed by the scent of death and illness, flavored with antiseptics.
"Just keep breathing. You're safe."
Pete rolls his head towards the voice. It feels like he's carrying boulders in his skull, but he keeps moving. His eyes finally unglue and he registers white walls, blue blanket, bed with metal rails, a man-shaped shadow in a chair between a small table, bristling with flowers and a wall with a window. The blinds are drawn, but light slats through, painting Andy with diagonal slashes of color. Pete licks his lips, searching for some moisture. Andy's suddenly close - so quickly, Pete wonders if he's lost time or fallen into some Asian horror movie remake, but then there's a straw right there and he's far more interested in water than he is in alternate realities. He feels like he could drink all the water in the world and it still won't be enough. He settles for finishing the water in the glass.
Andy sets the glass back down and sits closer to the bed. His glasses hide his eyes with gloom and Pete can't read his expression at all.
"Hospital?" Pete finally asks. His voice sounds like rusty car door hinges.
Andy nods. "For four days now."
"What...?"
"They found you in a parking lot, Pete. Patrick had to call 911."
And wow, Pete's had no idea that Andy could be so pissed and quiet all at the same time.
"I don't remember," he croaked out, and tried to rub some of the crap out of his eyes. He didn't get very far, a couple of inches tops, before his arm was jerked back. Bewildered, he stared at the wrist restraint.
"You overdosed, Pete. And you've been unmanageable since they brought you in."
"I... no, I..." Pete scrambled, trying to drag memory out of the fog muting his thoughts. All he could find was sensation: car window cold against the side of his face, frigid air swirling in from an open door, the flash of lights, blue and red blue and red... "I didn't mean..."
"Don't finish that sentence." The words feel like a punch. Pete stares up at Andy, who crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. The wood creaks loudly in the room's quiet.
"It's late for visitors," he finally says.
"Yup. You and I need to have a private conversation, though."
Pete turned his head, looking for a clock, but also because he couldn't keep looking at Andy. He heard Andy hiss in a breath, and felt warm callused fingers on the side of his face. His heart sped up, and he tried to move away.
Pete! part 2
Date: 2010-10-16 10:45 pm (UTC)Pete froze at the urgency in his voice. Andy clapped a hand over Pete's mouth and before he could freak out, Andy's pressing at something behind Pete's ear. Andy mutters something under his breath that doesn't sound like English; then there's a tug and it feels like he's trying to unzip Pete's skull. Red bursts of agony flare in his head, and Pete knows he's screaming because that's all he can do scream and scream and
A loud pop echoes in his right ear. The pain vanishes, as quickly as it came. Andy removes his hand and Pete is once again gasping, trying to hold onto some air. He hears Andy move, the soft rustle of fabric and flinches hard enough to rattle the bed posts.
"Hey, I'm just wiping your face." Andy says, and the anger's gone, like it was never there at all.
Pete shifted on the pillow and glared at him. "What the fuck, Hurley?"
Andy didn't meet his eyes, just finished wiping tears and sweat away.
"Pete, what do you remember about the parking lot?" he asked, once he'd set the facecloth aside.
"What? I told you, I..." And images rush in, spilling forth in a flash flood of memory. "Oh. Oh shit. There was a woman in the car and she... Patrick. She wanted Trick."
"Figures." Andy said.
"Figures?! That's all you can fucking say when Patrick's in danger?"
"Patrick's fine. Furious at you, but fine."
"What the fuck is going on, Andy?"
"It looks like you got tagged by a hunter," Andy said, and held up his other hand. Held securely between thumb and forefinger, was something that looked like a starfish with narrow spines instead of arms, made out of sullen red light. "From the energy signature, it looks like a succubus." He squeezed his fingers together and the red-light flared, turned burgundy and vanished.
Pete gaped at him. "What, you knew there was a succubus hunting me? Hunting Patrick?!"
"No, I had no idea what happened. But it was just a matter of time, considering. And this is why you and I needed to talk privately." He leaned back. "You better get comfortable. This is going to take a while."
Re: Pete! part 2
Date: 2010-10-16 10:56 pm (UTC)Hold on. I need a moment to flail a little.
Right. Done.
I ache for Pete so much. He was so confused and hurting so badly. I was all ready to both cheer Andy on for the talk I thought he was going to have and also want to punch him, when you turned things around and it became something different all together. Even though I knew it was set in TS verse and so wouldn't be anything usual.
The part where Andy took away the tag, eeep, and then he cleaned Pete up so carefully and Pete was so concerned about Patrick and I love this verse so much.
This is a fantastic way to use the prompt and I'm honoured you dropped this in here, especially as I can read it over and over and get glee face again.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-16 11:14 pm (UTC)Well that's the thing about dustverse, everyone interprets it in their own way. I'm sure yours will be fantastic.
Re: Pete! part 2
Date: 2010-10-17 03:32 am (UTC)You flailing makes my soul so happy!
Ah, Pete. This is distinctly not his finest hour. I personally love how he doesn't even acknowledge the succubus part, because he's so focused on Patrick. Such a dedicated woobie. *pets*
Oh, I am so glad that you had that response to Andy. He's a tricky little dude; *I* wasn't sure which tack he was going to take on The Talk, considering.
I love this verse so much.
*beams*
That means the world to me.
Oh yay! I know you've said in the past that you didn't mind comment fic, but it's been a while, so...
In conclusion: ♥!
no subject
Date: 2010-10-17 03:43 am (UTC)I am... at peace with my writing right now. It's flowing with such ease, I feel like I've won the freaking lottery here.
I keep thinking about poor Bob wandering over and coming across an orgy going on, and then backing away slowly and never coming back.
Ahahahahaha! Oh man, that mental image cracks me up SO HARD. But you're right; it would have to be a gradual thing. Which makes sense, anyway - I imagine that our Killjoys would be very protective of their bonds around outsiders. And once it's established that Bob isn't an outsider, subtle war would be waged on Bob's personal space, until one day... Boom! :D :D
Please, PLEASE run with the spark plugs theme! I love that and think it's a perfect romantic image for this 'verse.
w00t! Okay. :D I want to finish the first half of the TS Pete bit I posted first, then I'll dig in to Pedestrian Wolves, Killjoy style.
I know, right?? It's a super shiny idea. And ooooooooooo... I just had this totally spooky mental image of the Killjoys fighting this big losing battle against dracs, convinced they are a step away from ghosting. Then actual ghosts start appearing out of the desert. :D
Re: Pete! part 2
Date: 2010-10-17 07:49 am (UTC)Yeah, that pinged a very Pete to me. In a hospital, Andy just doing something weird that hurt like a bitch and then some, and all Pete can do is worry about Patrick. He's awesome like that.
I think I've told you before but Andy is someone who annoys me often in rl, so that colours how I read him in fic. It shouldn't, but I'm not that good of a person that I can stop. But I like him a lot in your verse, he does come across angry at times, but also so patient and giving of his time and knowledge. It's a nice balance.
Comment fic is awesome. There's nothing I like more than to open a comment and see fic waiting ♥
no subject
Date: 2010-10-17 08:06 am (UTC)I am... at peace with my writing right now. It's flowing with such ease, I feel like I've won the freaking lottery here.
Out of all your sentences I've read today, this is the one I love the most.
Yeah, getting that close would take a very long time, both for them and Bob. For exactly the reasons you say, but also I think it would take Bob a while to sort out his own feelings about what he's getting to see. I can imagine him in his workshop, surrounded by parts of Korse's bike and just lost in thought. And then Patrick would come in and be all, "You okay?"
And Bob would put down the part he's holding and say something like "I saw Ghoul kissing Party Poison today" ( I'd imagine actual names are something that happens when you're talking to someone who's actually been allowed to know them, Patrick wouldn't be there yet ) and Patrick would put down the can of kibble he's got because Bob's been sitting in there for hours and go, "So?"
And Bob would go on to say how he saw Frank sitting on Mikey's lap or some other casual intimate move and Patrick would say 'and?' and Bob would be frustrated because he knows there's something bigger than the glimpses he's seeing and it's unsettling him.
I'm thinking that the last big test would be to see Gerard and Mikey together. Not in an explicit way, maybe Mikey asleep on Gerard's lap, and normally if anyone from outside came in Gerard would wake Mikey but he doesn't this time, just keeps on stroking his hair and Bob *knows* this is a test and if he reacts badly now every in they've given him will be taken away.
And I'm not supposed to be writing this yet!
The spark plugs are key *g*
I saw you posted it, I am excited to read.
That is a spooky image, and also all kinds of awesome!
no subject
Date: 2010-10-18 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-18 02:25 pm (UTC)I love that they do have the Black Parade uniform in the vid, but at the same time, it's sad to see.
Re: Pete! part 2
Date: 2010-10-18 03:25 pm (UTC)The Pete - Patrick dynamic is so much fun to write, particularly [for me] in this 'verse. So much of the inner struggles here end up being larger, and it's strangely reassuring to write such a direct relationship. Not that Pete thinks narrowly, of course; he just has a very secure personal foundation.
Ah yes, Andy. I do remember you saying that in the past, and I have to agree. There are any number of things that RL Andy does/says that make me want to throw things at his head. But I really love writing him in Traveling Show [and elsewhere]; he's perfect for the world and continues to gain a complexity that I am just fascinated by. I'm glad that all of that bleeds through in the snippets I write.
:D :D I have to agree. You always have such shiny bits in your posts. Which is as it should be. *nods*
no subject
Date: 2010-10-18 03:40 pm (UTC)Out of all your sentences I've read today, this is the one I love the most.
I love you, Terri. So much.
I'm thinking that the last big test would be to see Gerard and Mikey together. Not in an explicit way, maybe Mikey asleep on Gerard's lap, and normally if anyone from outside came in Gerard would wake Mikey but he doesn't this time, just keeps on stroking his hair and Bob *knows* this is a test and if he reacts badly now every in they've given him will be taken away.
Ooooo yeah! Allllll of that! Especially Patrick's "And your point?" attitude about the whole thing. *smishes PStump* And Bob passes the test - maybe not with flying colors, but awkwardly - and all of a sudden has people in *his* lap, all casual like. :D :D
Whose writing anything here? We're just chatting. >;D
I love that the spark plugs are key! That brings me excessive amounts of glee.
I have been distracted by wolfish shenanigans - not a bad thing, really -
I just love that image. Picture it - the Killjoys out in the desert, pinned down by Korse's men and convinced they are through. The stars are brilliant pinpricks of light above, the moon hidden, only other light from their fire. When the ray guns fire, it screws with everyone's night vision. Which is why, when the ghosts start to appear, the guys think they're seeing afterimages. They are, after all, almost the reverse of the Dracs, in their black uniforms. But then drums start, unseen but rattling out a marching cadence with military precision. And for the first time, the Dracs hesitate.