Seraph05

Swing Bones and Motorbikes Prologue

2012-07-24T12:57:24Z

Title: Swing Bones and Motorbikes (Prologue)
Author: seraph05
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Eventual Dean/Castiel
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Would that these marvellous ideas where all mine. Sadly they originate from and belong to Eric Kripke
Summary: 1930's Supernatural AU. "It's not that Dean. Your Dad's comin!" Earl warned before quickly shuffling off back behind the counter. Dean's eyes darted over to the door: even with the crutch his father cut an impressive figure in the dim bar lights.

Prologue

There where many droughts in Kansas the year of the great spirit uprising. The water had dried up leaving nothing but the husk of the earth, which whipped unforgivingly across crops and planes alike. Liquor had been replaced by soda and near-beers which where about as far from a desperately needed stiff drink as a man could get. Then there were the souls of the people residing there thirsty, mourning a loss shared by the world and trying to make it along with the little money they had.

Sometimes John Winchester felt bad when he walked through the dusty small town and saw the faces of the townsfolk. He was a man who suffered under no lack of liquor or dying crops. He lived comfortably in a large house with his eldest son who was fit and alive, more then could be said for many young men in his country. However John was not all together exempt from misery. He had an aching limp that would never heal, memories of battle haunting him and his business had been almost unmanageably hectic of late. In many ways for his work, at least, he was grateful.

Except when his brother called.

* * *

"Hey!"

Dean snorted awake with two hands shaking him hard.

"Jeez Earl I said I'll pay you tomorrow!" Dean grumbled shirking the bartender off. He came to his senses blinking blearily through the smoke of the only bar in town with under the counter service. He tried to remember why he was still there and not at home when the empty glass before him offered a gentle reminder. He'd been too drunk to leave.

"It's not that Dean. Your Dad's comin!" Earl warned before quickly shuffling off back behind the counter. Dean's eyes darted over to the door: even with the crutch his father cut an impressive figure in the dim bar lights.

"Dean" he had scarcely raised his voice and yet it carried all the way across the room. Some of the patrons looked over as the two regarded each other. With one staggering movement Dean slid out of his seat, picked his coat up off the back of his chair and made his way over to the door, keeping his balance the best he could. John held the door open, Dean walked out through it into the night and then they where gone.

The walk home was a mostly silent one aside from the occasional sound of Dean kicking stones loose from the road. His father had few rules and while Dean's curfew was a late one, it had always been enforced as closely as the rules of the law. Dean wondered what his punishment would be and knew it would be some time before the severe silence was lifted. It wasn't till an hour later, and after a fierce lecture, that his strange penalty would be handed down.

"What where you thinking?!" John roared and the walls of the living room shook "You have a curfew for a reason!"

"Yes sir" Dean replied, sitting on the couch with his back straight and chin high "I fell asleep-"

"That's worse! You can't be seen drunk not even in a bar," John snarled back at the reply shooting it out of the air. Dean winced at the volume his father could muster. "It doesn't take a genius to see that a mechanic shouldn't be able to afford enough liquor to get drunk. You want to drink you do it here"

"Yes sir!" Dean snapped the reply out realizing his error.

John paced for a few more moments before a shudder ran through his leg. After a half hour of walking and a full hour of reprimanding it could no longer hold out. With a weary sigh he sank into his chair rubbing his knee. Dean stared intently at the floor. There was a long silence filed in by the occasional tiny click clack of insects, the scratching of wildlife outside and the whispering wind.

"You're going to run some errands for Bobby" John said finally his tone calmer but final. Dean raised his eyes to meet John's, confused.

"Bobby's in Chicago…" Dean said slowly "What can I do for him here?"

"Come here" John gestured and Dean obeyed crossing the room. John held out a piece of paper with a list scrawled on it. Dean took it skimming the words.

"This stuff is from New Orleans" Dean said finally.

"It is. You're gonna go get them and take them to him" John said.

Dean could scarcely believe the ridiculousness of the punishment. He had been expecting to clear the gunk from the toilet not go on a cross-country grocery trip.

"Did Bobby say why he needed it?" Dean said examining the list, knowing there was more to the trip then his father was telling him.

"It's for a ritual of some kind"" John replied a thoughtful expression on his face, "He said to call him in a few days about it"

"But…" Dean said trying to think of a way to reason with him "Can't you do it? I'm halfway through fixing the Miller's gang plough-" Dean asked knowing the pay he would loose if he left but in a second John's eyes turned to steel.

"No. I've got a job lined up here" John spoke tone rough and hard "Bobby needs those things now. Pack your stuff. You're heading out tomorrow" Dean bit his tongue and heeded his father's words.

"Yes sir" Dean said and headed for the stairs leading to his room. The last glimpse he caught of his father was the man lifting a bottle of unmarked whiskey from under a floorboard.

* * *

Dean walked out to the shed bag slung over his shoulder; John was only a few minutes behind, collecting some things from the house. It was a cool morning but Dean knew before long the sun would be tanning the leather on his back. After a good night sleep he found the idea of a road trip to Chicago via New Orleans much less of a pain. He'd have a couple of weeks off work, he'd be out on his own and he'd see Bobby.

The shed doors where stiff and creaked as Dean dragged them open. The sight of the small collection of his Dad's vehicles drew a smile to his face. Every car was rare from the Chevy 2 door sedan to the LeGrande Torpedo Phaeton. John was a man with a penchant for procuring rare objects and Dean was beginning to follow in his footsteps. Dean passed his fingers reverently over the large circular lights of the Chevy and watched his reflection in the glossy painted surface. He'd tinkered with these beauties before but had yet been allowed to drive one. It seemed, in spite his anticipation, now would not be the time either.

"You'll be taking the Indian" John spoke as he reached the sheds entrance a small box in one hand and a set of saddlebags in the other.

"Are you serious?" Dean asked unable to mask a rising sense of excitement.

"Yep" John said watching his son's expression contentedly. Dean rounded behind the cars and drew the Indian out "In fact if you're careful with it I'll even let you keep it"

"Dad" The word barely escaped his mouth for the pure shock behind it. He stared at his father with wondering eyes.

"Don't get too excited, it ain't yours yet"

Dean nodded turning his fond eyes to the Indian. He dusted off the surface of the only motorcycle John owned. It's panels where dark red with gold details running down the edges and the word 'Indian' hand painted on the sides of the fuel tank. He remembered the night his father had brought it home. He'd rode up into the porch lights like some creature from the night. He and Sam had stood on the top step admiring the machine with all the commotion two teenage boys could muster. It was the same night his father's leather jacket, scarcely taken off since, was brought home.

"This bike hasn't been out much so go easy on it" John said placing the saddlebags over the back of the bike and tying them down "You got everything you need in here" he said patting the bags. Dean nodded as he secured his own bag over the back wheel "You get in trouble, you call me"

"You got it" Dean said buttoning up his own leather jacket.

"Say hi to Bobby for me, tell him he should come visit his brother some time. Oh this is for Rufus" John said handing a box to Dean "Don't drink it"

"Oh man we're working with Rufus" Dean groaned before packing the box safely into one of the saddlebags, "That old man hates me"

"He hates everybody. I'm not asking you to stay the weekend, just get the stuff and go" John said a smirk bringing warmth to his eyes.

"Fine" Dean said returning the gesture and tied a handkerchief around his neck "Anything else?"

"Yeah" John said some of the cheer fading from his face before he looked away "If you see Sam in Chicago could you tell him I wanna talk to him"

There was a moment of silence for the rarely touched upon subject.

"Yeah…sure" Dean replied rounding the bike to stand by his father's side "You two gonna patch things up?"

"Maybe" John murmured and there was a haze in his eyes as though that angry, raw memory was replaying as it had so many times before "Anyway you'd better get going"

Dean tightly embraced his father and with two firm pats on the back John took a step back. Dean slung his leg over the bike resting his right foot on the pedal. It took a few cranks of his foot up and down on the pedal before the loud burbling click clack of the engine turning over began. Slipping a pair of sunglasses on he gave his father a nod and a smile.

"And Dean?" John shouted over the sound of the engine. Dean looked over as he put the bike into gear "Pick up some money while you're out"

"YES SIR!" Dean cried with exhilaration, the wheels twisting into the dirt leaving nothing but a dust cloud behind.

* * *

The room was murky with creeping shadows.

"What is the count up to?" a deep voice asked, scratched from years of breathing brimstone smoke.

"16,563,868 worldwide" a tinny female tone replied quickly.

"And here?" he asked.

"117,465" she replied. There was a pause. The few loyal to him where already clearing his path with silent murders and cross road deals. No doubt there would be bigger fish to fry. He need only concern himself personally with the sharks.

"Is anyone going to get in our way?" He continued.

"There is one man of note who may become a problem if left unchecked" she answered diligently.

"Name" He asked.

"Bobby Singer"

Don't You Hate That

2011-10-31T15:06:19Z

I hate when you ask someone a question and you want them to give you an answer but they dont give you the one you wanted. Well i got that tonight and i hate it. I hate that i can't write this on my DA page. I hate that there is no 'easy off' switches in life. I hate that life is not like cinema and books and stories and songs. i hate that when things don't go the way you want you end up having to be the bad guy. i hate it, i do.

i met this guy and he's lovely and nice and cute and we like the same things and he likes me for who i am, or for what he's seen of me thus far which has been very truthful. he's even seen/ read things of mine that i didn't want to show him just yet and he's still cool with me and yet...every time i see him i feel the same about him. i don't think i like him anymore then from the second time i saw him. i mean i like him but i'm not really feeling the chemistry with him so now i'm having to prepare to be the bitch and tell him that 'i'm not looking for anything serious' which just sucks.

this all sounds so cliché'd.

whats worse is i feel like at every turn she's trying to keep this thing going. i know she only wants the best for me but all i want to hear from her is that i'm right in feeling the way that i do and that i should run with that. i want her to make me feel like i'm doing the right thing, that i'm making the right choice but she doesn't. or more to the point she doesn't want me to kill this thing in case it might get better. i get that optimism, i get that hope but it doesn't make me feel better.

i don't know how to handle this shit and i don't want to. and i'm sick of feeling this way. all indecisive and selfish and apprehensive and crap.

Thorn in my side

2011-08-30T12:54:01Z

Don't you hate it when you realise you still have issues . Especially issues you thought you where over. I thought it was out with the old, in with the new. Curing my daddy issues and moving on to romantic issues.

Tonight i was out at a movie. Now, i'm one of those people that talks during movies but usually i pride myself on not being one of those obnoxious people that talks too loudly. I pride myself on not being heard generally. However half an hour into this movie the guy behind us leans forward pressing on the top on my head rest and quietly asks me 'can you please stop talking now'. I sunk down into my seat and promptly shut up but there was something else too. It was like i could feel the pressure of the head rest on my head even though his hand was long gone and i could feel him sitting behind me and i was angry but i wasn't angry at him and i felt completely done with the movie. I felt like 'i don't feel like seeing this movie anymore tonight, i will watch it another night when i feel like it' and it was a very dry kind of rebellious feeling. More then anything else though i felt as if i didn't want to be there anymore and this feeling covered me and filed my heart there and eventually i couldn't stand it anymore and left.

I walked very slowly to the far toilets and tried to figure out why i was so angry. The guy hadn't told me to be quiet in a condescending way, or a bitchy way, he didn't even use a reprimanding tone. He had asking me in a very soft polite way. So i wasn't angry at him. So i wondered if i was angry at myself. I had been mouthing off one of the toolbaggy characters repeatedly since the movie had begun and my friend and me had been making light banter equating one of the characters deep hardships to my friend going to work. What if the movie this book was based on was this mans favourite book. What if i had been ruining it for him? But after some thinking i decided that while i was messing around a bit for the most part it had all been in good fun and i really didn't think i'd been talking that loudly. Then i thought on his tone again and that's when i realised why i'd had such a violent and negative reaction to his perfectly reasonable request.

My dad used to do the same thing to me all the time. Me and my brother would be watching a tv show or playing a game having fun and chatting loudly or commenting loudly on something we'd be watching and my dad would tell us to be quiet. It went beyond that. Long story short: for a long time...3 years i felt like i couldn't speak to my dad. That i shouldn't say a word against him or do anything wrong because he was a good dad and if i did anything wrong i was being a bad daughter and a bad person. This escalated to the stage where i felt like even the softest of his reprimands were suffocating and so much of the time he would say them just like that man behind me. 'Guys you're not the only ones trying to watch this movie, keep it down' felt like 'can't you see that me and my girlfriend are trying to watch this, now would you be quiet, stop having fun because it's impeaching on my enjoyment' and i'd get stiff as a board and stop enjoying whatever we where watching cause god forbid we should impeach on his happiness.

When i realised this i felt even more hurt and angry because i'd thought i'd grown out of such childish knee-jerk reactions. I didn't want to go back into the cinema because i didn't want to sit in front of that man (even though as i said before i really had no beef with him, i found his request quite fair), but i didn't want to sit down the front and away from my friends because i knew they would come down to me and ask what was wrong and not only did i not want to tell them i didn't want to ruin the movie for them. However i knew if i stayed away too long they would come looking for me and the same thing would happen. So i watched the movie from the entrance of the cinema for a while (because i was actually really enjoying the movie, it wasn't the movies fault this shit was going down) and then returned to my seat. I felt mad and every time i wanted to talk i felt that angry rebellious feeling well up in my stomach because i was 'being silenced and i swore i wouldn't be silenced anymore'. Then my phone rang. I'd forgotten to turn it off and i tried to silence it but it rang out before i could turn it off. And then i felt worse. I cried and hoped that none of my friends would notice. Thankfully they didn't because i am so very ashamed of this ridiculous reaction. I'm 23 not 14.

dear world

2011-08-03T13:46:09Z

fuck off

The Puppet Master

2011-07-03T14:24:20Z

Title: The Puppet Master
Author: seraph05
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Erik/Charles
Warnings: Boys kissing.
Disclaimer: the things I would do if I owned these boys. Sadly I do not.
Summary: Erik and Charles go to talk to a mutant about joining their gang but get more then they bargained for.

The two men walked side by side down the dimly lit London backstreet footsteps clacking on the cobbles. The brisk night air made white smoke of each breath and the streetlights only afforded glimpses of each other’s face. A break in their conversation had left an easy silence in its wake. One man almost beamed with anticipation the other’s expression was less jovial. A few meters down the alleyway there was a dimly lit door with a wooden sign hanging just to the right that announced ‘The Red Lady’; the only evidence of the mysterious establishment. As they drew near to their destination the pensive man slowed to a stop. The other took 3 steps before realizing his companion had halted and turned flashing him a curious glance.

“Are you sure about this Charles?”

Charles’s eyebrows drew together gently though his smile did not falter.

“It’s unlike you to be uncertain Erik” he commented returning to his side.

“I just don’t fancy the idea of being trapped in a basement pub if this mutant doesn’t want our company” Erik replied casually.

“It’ll be fine Erik, you’ve got to learn to have a little faith” Charles said slapping his shoulders with one gloved hand before putting an arm around them and leading him to the door “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink”

The pair followed a narrow corridor of stairs down. The unmistakable sounds of gasses clinking, music playing and chatter rambling on grew louder till they reached the bottom of the stairs. The room that opened up before them wasn’t much different from any other pub on the street. The only thing that seemed to separate it from the rest was its location. The pub’s patrons carried on cheerily oblivious to the mutants amongst them.

Charles and Erik moved through the crowd and seated themselves on the stools at the bar. Erik leaned in close to Charles ear and asked

“Which one is he?”

Charles eyed each bar tender carefully skimming the lighter levels of their minds for the right man. Eventually he found the thoughts operating on a different wave length. It took him longer then usual to uncover the mutant and he wondered if this particular mans mutation involved blocking others out.

“That one” he replied nodding in the direction of a young man polishing glasses with his back to them. He was tall, wore old singlet and had messy black hair.

“Alright” Erik said, with a touch of finality in his voice. The pair where well versed in sharing their secret at this stage and with that one word and a nod from Charles they new it was time.

“Bar keep!” Charles called adding a touch of psychic link to his voice in order to make sure the mutant was the one that heard them. His head raised, he put down the glass he was working on and turned to face them.

A sense of disquiet stirred in the pit of Erik’s stomach at the sight of the mutant walking over to them. He looked as if he was in his late 20’s though rough circumstances had brought age on early with crow’s feet and fatigue evident. It was not his features that unsettled Erik, as aside from a small knick in one of his eyebrows he wasn’t even particularly distinguishable. There was something Erik could not place that made him wary. Charles did not share his sentiment.

“Yes hello my good man, I’ll have a scotch and dry and my friend here will have a martini,” Charles ordered handing over a few notes. The mutant snatched up the notes before mixing their drinks. When he returned placing the drinks down Erik nodded to him in thanks retrieving coins from his pocket.

“Here” he added casually holding his fist up “Keep the change as a tip” he opened his hand moving the coins slowly through the air to hover in front of the mutant. He stared blankly at them for a long moment before looking from Charles to Erik.

“My name is Charles Xavier and this is my associate Erik Lensherr” Charles introduced them “We’d like to talk to you about a program we’re running for people with special abilities; mutants-” Charles began to explain however before he could finish his well practiced speech the mutant simply collected the coins from the air and went back to his work with little more then a glare.

“Wh-?” Charles let out the breath gesturing to the mutant and looking to Erik for an explanation.

“Processing perhaps.” Erik offered with a tone that suggested he was lightly ribbing Charles before continuing with “Finding your not alone can take a moment to sink in sometimes”

Charles was unexpectedly dipped into the taste of salty water and a bite of cold from Erik’s mind before he drew himself back. He found occasionally he would slip into the lighter levels of Erik’s mind without even meaning to and catch echoes of feelings and memories. Tonight it was a remnant from the moment they met. Despite the spikes of failure at loosing Shaw and the bitterness of the water the memory had a distinctly sentimental sensation framing it and Charles couldn’t suppress a smile at how highly Erik ranked this memory amongst those of his life. Or how affectionately.

“What’s that look for?” Eric asked and Chares realized he had been staring at him at length.

“What look? This is my face” Charles exclaimed dramatically. Eric chuckled and pointed to Charles.

“That look that says you know something I don’t” He answered.

“I know a lot of things you don’t” Charles replied taking another sip of his drink to avoid divulging how much he knew about how Erik thought of him “No, I was just thinking about the night we met”

“What a coincidence” Erik said raising his eyebrows though his smile suggested sarcasm “I was just thinking about that”

“Really? Well you know what they say, great minds” Charles replied clearing his throat.

“Indeed” Eric agreed and thought for a moment before continuing with “The night we met…you make it sound like years ago”

“Well it feels a bit that way that doesn’t it” Charles asked thinking of the time they’d spent together.

“It does” Eric replied watching Charles with a gentle gaze. There was so little that was tender about the man that Charles felt he must remember this moment, engrain it into his memory. So he held the gaze for as long as it lasted and not for a second did discomfort enter into the space between them. Erik let a smirk move his lips then raised his drink towards Charles.

“To finding our brothers” he said and Charles clinked their glasses together with agreeable cheer.

“Hello professor”

The two men looked over to see a pretty young woman standing next to Charles. She had shoulder length red hair, fair skin and sky blue eyes. Charles remembered dating her for a while in college.

“Sophie!” He exclaimed beaming and sweeping her into a hug. From behind him he could hear Erik’s mocking thoughts

Are there any girls in London you haven’t slept with yet?

Jealous?

Not of the teenagers

“My dear Charles, what brings you to London? Another presentation for the faculty?” She asked tone soft and flirtatious.

“No I’m afraid I’m here on business”

“Oh” she sighed pouting, “I suppose you’ll be gone soon then”

“Sadly yes” he shrugged mindful of the mission they’d come to complete “Hate to be a pain Soph but how about I come chat to you in a little while? Your favorite drink still Sweet vermouth with a twist?”

“It is indeed and I’ll expect one to come with you” she replied eyes briefly touching on Erik “Hurry over soon”

“I’ll try my dear, I’ll try” He replied as she walked away and returned to her booth. Charles watched her go before swiveling on his seat to face the bar.

“I dated her in college and she’s not a teenager” Charles said without looking at Erik who nodded and smirked

“Well that makes it serious”

Charles snickered before taking the final gulp of his drink. He contemplated how strange it was that while his life’s direction was currently so unstable and his future so uncertain he had never been happier. He was meeting mutants, helping people, advancing his abilities and learning new things every day. He looked admiringly to Erik who was watching the mutant on the opposite side of the bar.

Though he had only met him a few months ago Charles felt he wished to keep him by his side always. He had never met anyone with as much fortitude, passion and insight. Erik’s thought patterns matched his own whilst still challenging him and supporting him at a base level. Deeper then in his mind, as deeply as in his heart and soul Charles knew how mutual this feeling was. An icy sensation jittered down his spine to the base of his backbone. Charles blinked.

His brow furrowed and he turned around to survey the pub. Something had shifted in the equilibrium of the room and it’s patrons. Charles scanned faces looking for it. Something was wrong. It was in their motionless expressions of delight, intoxication, shock and conversation that Charles found his answer. Everyone was frozen and Charles was suddenly alone. His heart shot into a speeding pace. He looked around at the band that had been playing on the stage, also frozen, leaving a heavy silence in their wake.

“Erik” he said under his breath as he scanned the room “I don’t like this one bit”

After a prolonged pause he looked to his silent companion who was still facing the mutant. His alarm grew; as he felt more vulnerable every second Erik’s response did not come. Somewhere in the pub there was a soundless hidden threat and Charles alone seemed immune, or perhaps separated and cornered.

“Erik” he repeated the word louder, continuing to survey the pub for an attack. When no answer replied he grabbed his arm and shook him lightly “Erik!? Erik!”

Finally, willing his mind to be calm, he reached into Erik’s thoughts.

Erik

Charles I can’t move

Charles stood behind Erik to place himself between his friend and the rest of the pub.

What’s happening?

I’m not sure

Charles it’s the mutant, look behind you!

With the wave of Erik’s concern crashing against him he whipped around to hear the only noise echo through the pub. It was the sound of a glass being placed on the bar. Behind the bar stood the bartender still drying glasses.

“You know…I’ve always wanted to meet mutants” He commented stacking another glass and combing his scruffy hair away from his face with his fingers. He made his way over to Charles and Erik “Pity you had to come while I was on shift but I decided not to let an opportunity like this go”

“So you are doing this” Charles spoke cautiously “What an impressive mutatuion you have”

“Why thank you and so do you. You’re the first person I’ve come across who hasn’t been affected by my powers. I get the feeling that that’s a two way street though isn’t it...Charlie?” He asked reaching a hand over the bar “Sorry I didn’t say hi before. I can be shy to start”

Charles took it with a great deal of caution and little hospitality. He made a few quick attempts to delve deeper into the mutants mind but found it partially blocked. His brainwaves leapt and jittered as if dodging Charles somehow. It would take more time and different tact’s to ascertain if he was truly blocked from the mutant’s mind. Time he did not currently posses.

“Why have you frozen Erik and these people?” Charles asked patiently sliding his hands into his pockets, forcing an outward show of composure.

“I haven’t really frozen them I just haven’t chosen to move any of them yet. They can see us and hear us but that doesn’t concern me too much because I did this for Erik” He said nodding in Erik’s direction and Charles followed looking to his friend “You see I’ve been looking forward to meeting another mutant because I’ve always wanted to try one out. Humans are only so much fun to mess with. I mean what can you make em do? Fight? Ruin each other’s lives? Boring and there’s no reality or passion in their actions. Just Fear”

The mutant’s casual nature shifted as placed the final glass onto the shelf and dropped the tea towel onto the counter. He began to step away from them putting distance between them.

“But there’s no fear in him is there Charlie?” The mutant asked. Involuntarily Charles thought of Erik, pulse beginning to speed. Deep in Erik’s core there was a scared child that was cold and alone but Charles knew that place was far too deep for anyone to reach. No, Erik was not afraid. Charles shook his head refusing to play the mutant’s game.

“Where are you going? I thought we where having a lovely conversation” Charles asked, mentally preparing himself for whatever was about to occur. The mutant let out an audible sigh as he finally stopped at the far end of the bar.

“While I think you’re no match for me in a fight Charlie, I didn’t want you having a go at me for what I’m about to do to Erik” he raised one hand as if raising an object off the bench and Erik’s arm lifted into the air. It was like an invisible rope was tied to his wrist. Charles nearly jumped at Erik’s sudden movement.

“Neat huh?” The mutant said though his tone had become lower and the humor had had vanished “but that’s child’s play, old hat. I’m sure you’ve seen it”

“Let him go” Charles warned tone serious as he slipped a hand over Erik’s raised shoulder “Our powers should be put towards the improvement of our lives, others lives, this world. They can be such positive things. Please let him go and we’ll talk about this”

“Oooh a humanitarian” he spoke watching Erik and bent his fingers just slightly, at that motion Erik’s palm spread open and a bottle opener lying on the bar lifted into the air much to the mutants delight “Wow! I didn’t know if that would work. Isn’t it amazing?” he added the last words sardonically “The ability to move metal…Must be a great come on”

“We didn’t come to fight you” Charles spoke raising his voice, beginning to feel his attempts to bring the mutant around where pointless. He knew he would have to start playing along with the mutant’s game if he was going to have any chance of stopping him.

The mutant lifted his arms like a conductor leading an orchestra. Erik then not only stood, Charles’s hand slipping from its spot, but he was up on the bar in one graceful movement. The mutant started singing a classic tune Charles quickly recognized as Strauss’s Blue Danube while Erik stepped precariously down the bar top away from Charles who quickly gave chase, snatching at his clothes in an attempt to grab him.

“Stop it!” Charles called to the mutant trying to reach Erik between the bar stools in his way. Erik gave a kick, sending a glass shattering into the far wall just flying short of crashing into a customer’s head while the mutant gave a clap and roar. Charles lunged at his legs narrowly missing them as Erik stepped out of the way. When Erik passed the tip jar the coins inside exploded out, smashing the glass and raining down onto the floor of the pub.

“I love this power!” The mutant shouted manipulating Erik to waywardly use bottle lids to smash the different coloured alcohol bottles stacked on the shelves behind the bar. He cocked his head to the side and pointed to Erik, “He looks a lot more sturdy then most I’ve messed with. How indestructible is he?” he pondered aloud then dropped his arms. Charles snapped out of his attempts to catch Erik and watched in horror. Erik’s body buckled falling first to smash against the bar before tumbling off it all together. Charles leapt to grasp him only just managing to save his shoulders and head from hitting the floor, the rest of his body colliding with a loud strike. He only caught a glimpse of a gash on his forehead before Erik rose again, along with the mutants arm. Charles latched onto his coat with both arms around his chest holding him still.

“I’ve got you” Charles spoke through gritted teeth, knowing Erik could hear him.

“I’m gonna bet that’s pretty indestructible” the mutant commented before swiping his hand out, Erik making a similar move however instead of whipping through air it battered Charles hard enough to make him let go and stagger back.

Charles fingers flew to his temple and entered Erik’s mind.

Erik are you alright?

A voice laced with annoyance replied

I’m fine. Why can’t you get inside his head and bring him down?

He’s blocking me somehow. I’m going to try to find out how he’s controlling you

Charles spoke quickly and reassuringly before searching through the levels of Erik’s mind. Strangely no motor functions where being employed by Erik at the time and the mutatant did not seem present in Erik at all. Charles knew this meant the mutant was using outside influence alone to make Erik move. Gathering his strength he began boosting Erik’s brain’s functioning capacity.

Outside the mutant gazed quizzically at Erik as his reactions to his manipulations lessened. There was a delay in the response between his command and Erik’s action. The mutant eyed Charles quickly, noting that he had stopped moving all together and seemed to be concentrating very hard on Erik.

“Taking a break?” The mutant suggested to Charles who remained silent. After a few moments of waiting the mutant began looking for his next plaything “Hmm those stairs could make some really nice art I’d bet” Inside Erik struggled to win back control of his body.

This little bastard isn’t giving me an inch. It’s like I’ve got ropes tied all over me, pulling me from all directions

Charles realized with start that the mutant was currently manipulating Erik to twist and yank at the stairs leading down to the pub and shape them into a spiral. Charles could see the brick foundations breaking and cracking, endangering everyone in the pub. Charles had an idea; if he was largely immune to the mutant’s attacks perhaps he could block Eric’s mind if he occupied it entirely. He stepped into Erik completely.

He gasped through Erik’s mouth breathing air into his lungs. He felt himself stretched to the points of Erik’s fingertips and toes till Erik’s body was his own. He could hear Erik and felt thrills of adrenaline and panic and wasn’t sure if it would be better to simply put Erik’s consciousness to sleep. He had little time to consider this and was more concerned with freeing Erik then keeping him clam.

Relax Erik, it’s just me. It’s just me

Warn me before you do that

Sorry, I think I might have a better chance of freeing you this way

He took a step back yanking hard on the unseen ropes and trying to ignore the utter and complete strangeness of moving in another’s body.

“I said let him go!” Charles spoke through Erik’s mouth the harsh edge on his tone like the chipped edge of a knife. Charles was surprised by how strong Erik’s body was however in spite of his physique he was still unable to pull away. Erik could now struggle, resist and stall but was not yet free.

“I’m not done with him yet!” The mutant grumbled like a petulant child and tried to shake Charles from Erik’s body by pulling Erik and pushing him every which way. Charles could feel Erik’s rage as if it where his own. He loathed to be controlled and his anger had begun to amplify his power. In the commotion metallic objects where beginning to lift off from where they where and crunch into oblivion. It spread thought the room even pulling and bending hooks and ornaments. The mutant gazed in wonder at it as it happened all around him.

“So anger amplifies it” He said to no-one in particular.

Charles could feel Erik’s fury as it burned though his very soul, smatterings of a history of helplessness. Erik’s anger had begun to affect Charles, he had never felt this kind of rage inside himself before. He fixed the mutant with a glare.

“If you do not release him immediately I will show you how it is to feel controlled and helpless” Charles spoke through Erik’s incensed feelings. The mutant gave an almighty yank and Erik’s body was thrown forward landing hard on his knees. Charles looked up from where he knelt in Erik’s shaking form and raised his arm hand open, the body’s reaction to a power being used.

“I warned you”

Charles’ mind battered into the mutant’s brainwaves attacking his consciousness with a greater force then he had ever used before for fear of injuring someone or himself. With the new emotions in him and Erik’s safety on the line Charles smashed through the mutant’s defenses. The brainwaves faltered under the weight of his strength before locking in with Charles. He was in control.

Darkness surged down around the mutant like water, plunging him into the deep and the pub vanished from sight. He cried out falling against the bar not knowing what it was and scrambled for air and light. He reached out, the bonds holding Erik down where long forgotten. A sharp gash of pain seared in his wrist and he clutched it to his chest. Charles staggered with the heaviness of the attack and his head pounded. The mutant breathed in a lungful of the dark liquid before he found himself on the pub floor on his back. His heart was pounding and he was gasping in a lungful of air. He gingerly gazed down at his wrist to discover it was free of injuries.

Not ten feet away hunched on the floor lay Charles. His face was pale and his breathing was broken and labored. He was utterly disheveled and had just hit the wooden floorboards hard. The ground was spinning and it felt like his very brain ached. His blue eyes however where watching the mutants closely.

“Hello” a hand fisted the mutant’s shirt lifting him from the ground and slamming him roughly into the bar. A fierce glare fixed him to the spot “My name is Erik Lensherr” he breathed punching the mutant hard in the gut causing him to snarl in pain “This is my associate Charles Xavier” he added with another heavy fist to the gut “You see we haven’t really met” He pulled his fist back again.

“STOP!” the mutant wheezed holding his stomach and chest in pain, “Stop! Look I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“What makes you think that that’s enough!” Erik asked fiercely opening his free hand and calling ice picks, knives and corkscrews to hover around them “You hurt Charles, you could have killed as all and you attacked us for no reason”

“I didn’t attack you!” he retorted and flinched averting his eyes from Erik’s. Erik grabbed him by chin and turned his face back so he couldn’t look away.

“Really?” Erik scoffed “It was difficult to see it that way”

“I just-I just wanted-” the mutant tried to get the words out while Erik nodded slowly.

“To test drive another mutant?”

“You just…you walked in here acting like you owned the place, showing off your powers like they where nothing!” He shouted “And that beautiful girl came up to you out of nowhere because life is that fucking easy for you isn’t it?! You got money, power, birds and what do I get?! This shithole job? This shithole life! I get to be the freak!”

Erik looked over his shoulder at Charles who was laying on the floor exhausted, still trying to catch his breath, complexion pale and almost green. Erik turned back and held his hand up. The suspended sharp objects quivered in the air.

“You know nothing about us” Erik said darkly, intensity flashing in his eyes.

“Erik” Charles’s weak voice called and he reached out towards him “Don’t. Don’t do it.

“I’m just going to teach him a lesson Charles” Erik replied glare never moving from those of the young mutant “He deserves it”

“No. He needs help. We can help him” Charles pleaded.

“Fuck off! I don’t need you! I don’t need anybody!” the mutant spat though the fright in his expression was as clear as day.

Erik stared at the mutant for a long moment before releasing him, weapons falling to the ground. Erik stood and made his way over to Charles.

“I was just messing with you a bit” The mutant growled rubbing his chin and neck. Erik pointed a finger at him in warning and the mutant raised both hands in reluctant submission “Sorry. Jesus”

Erik knelt by Charles’s side and took his hand concern evident in his expression. Charles used it to pull himself to sit up and Erik put an arm around his lower back.

“Lean on me” Erik said quietly. Charles let his weight rest against Erik’s chest and he lifted them to their feet. Charles felt his fingers grasping him tightly “Do you need to sit down?”

“No I’m fine thank you” Charles said a sense of safety and wellbeing encircling him. The echoes of anxiety from the other mutant’s mind and from his fears for Erik ebbed. The arms slipped away leaving warmth where they where and Charles eyed the mutant once more. He was looking around the pub.

“Why are they all frozen?” he asked referring to all the other people around them “I should have released them when I released you”

“I froze them so we could talk and so Erik could straighten out this mess” Charles explained gesturing to the chaos of the pub and Erik gave him a slight nod. He walked over to the mangled stairs and fixtures and began bending them back into shape. Charles walked over to the mutant and bobbed down beside him.

“What’s your name?” he asked, tone less easy going but still open. The young man eyed him with a sulky but subdued expression.

“My name’s Jack Wilson” he replied.

“And your mutation allows you to control people’s bodies” Charles speculated. He’d known the mutant would be formidable when he saw him in cerebro a few weeks ago but had no idea his ability would control so completely.

“Yes. It’s like I tie strings around them to make them move. They might be partially physical strings because they also paralyze the body while they are attached” Jack clarified “I haven’t been able to figure it out yet”

“Fascinating. No doubt we can ascertain the reality of their physical form if that’s what you want” Charles spoke with a hint of delight saying the next sentence under his breath “I’m sure Raven will come up with a brilliant nickname for you”

“What?” Jack asked.

“Don’t worry about it. Look as I was trying to say before, we have a program that we’re running right now. You can be paid to work as a mutant instead of in this pub if you like and you’ll get to meet other mutants. You won’t be singled out because the people who work with us are remarkable individuals. We can help you learn to better control and utilize your skills. We can discover things about you, you might not even know” Charles explained “We can make things better for you”

Jack stared at him at length. He then gazed at the bar and all it’s patrons. He looked at the rubble on the tables and floor that had been shaken loose from the ceiling when he had twisted the stairs. He saw a brick lying quite close to where a young man was standing. Coins where scatted throughout the room. When he looked at the chaos he had wrought he felt no pleasure. When he looked at the pub, the place he’d been working for years, he could conjure up nothing that would make him stay. He glanced back to Charles.

“What does this job entail?” he asked cautiously.

“Well how about you get behind this bar. I’ll erase these people’s memories of tonight and replace them with a memory of an exceptionally unusual and short-lived earthquake. I’ll fill them with an assurance that they are safe, unfreeze them and then we can chat about this like civilized men” Charles explained “How does that sound?”

“Sounds brilliant” Jack exclaimed and Charles helped him to his feet. He cringed as he straightened himself out, held his sore stomach muscles and moved behind the bar. Erik joined them and sat down on his bar stool. Charles looked out into the pub, closed his eyes and placed his fingers to his temple.

In no more then a minute the pub erupted with surprised voices and people uttering how lucky they’d been and how strange it was that an earthquake had shaken London in such a way. Charles turned back to the bar and noticed the blood on Erik’s forehead was still showing now surrounded by a bruise.

“You’re still bleeding” Charles said brow furrowing and pulled a hanky from his pocket. Gently he wiped the blood away, before handing the fabric to Erik who held it to the cut glaring at Jack.

“Really? How about that“ Erik growled at Jack who merely watched sheepishly from behind the bar.

“Don’t want to have to remove a pub fight from their memories as well” Charles said as a quiet warning to Erik, looking to see if anyone had noticed his injury.

“That mutation of yours is fantastic” Jack said with tones of admiration.

“Yes and I think that it is a very good thing that you can’t get to it” Charles spoke in a scolding tone ”At this place I’ve been telling you about there will be many other mutants with many amazing abilities. However you are not, under any circumstances allowed to manipulate them. Understand?”

“Yes” Jack replied.

“Now before we continue I believe you owe Erik and me a drink”

* * *

Into the early hours of the morning staggered two drunken men. The black sky had faded to the darkest of navy blues and somewhere not too far over the horizon the sun was beginning to rise. Charles pushed his hat back in an attempt to see better and fell against Erik who laughed and set him right.

“Jackie-boy isn’t half bad once you get to know him” Charles slurred cheerily “It was nice that he kept giving us free drinks”

“You didn’t do that?” Erik asked voice rising in surprise “I saw you move your finger to your temple a few times”

“No, no, not at all….well…yeah” Charles conceded but as Erik snickered he made a clumsy attempt at regaining some of his dignity “but only at the very end when he said he was shutting the pub and we had to go”

“Mmmmm and that makes it ok” Erik agreed trying to remain on the footpath as they made their way up the alley towards the main street. They knew the chance of getting a cab at this time was slim but neither cared.

“Do you think he’ll come?” Erik asked, a touch of soberness in his tone as he tossed a glance back at The Red Lady.

“I don’t know darling…we’ll have to give it time” Charles replied hoping the young miscreant would join their ranks to better himself. He turned half his body to stare at Erik. His eyes traveled unnoticed down the length of Erik’s body before he wrestled his mind back to safer subjects and the earlier hours of the night.

“You know this taking over other peoples bodies business seems to be quite a good idea. I did it cause I thought I would be able to block his control of you from inside your mind but it seems it was something in my brain’s psychical chemistry that allowed me to be spared. Still, I could see what you where seeing, hear what you heard I mean it’s quite the technique” Charles explained.

“It’s amazing how much coherence you can maintain whilst stonkered Charles” Erik commented.

“Well it could be really useful for spying on people! Think about it” Charles said as though it weren’t a request “though next time I think I will shut down the prime consciousness. It was troubling to have both of our minds controlling your body at once”

“Yes. Suddenly being confined to the space inside my skull and having nearly no feeling in my body was very troubling Charles, thank you for noticing” Erik thanked him, tripping as spoke. The young professor bent over with how hard he laughed at his companion’s lack of poise. Erik watched the young man laugh and broke out into a toothy grin.

Charles eyed Erik in the dim morning light. A car passed by briefly illuminating him and in that one second before he faded into shadows their chuckles still petering out Charles’s heart was filled with everything he felt for Erik.

He stumbled to Erik pushing fingers into the fabric of his shirt before tangling them into a loose fist and pulling them down. His other hand ran over the curve of Erik’s neck pressing into his skin. A surprised word didn’t escape Erik’s lips before Charles had pushed him against the nearby wall and kissed him. Though momentarily surprised Erik responded fusing their mouths and leaning down. His hands gripped Charles’s back lifting him to bring him closer. Charles breathed out through his nose issuing a hum of pleasure before slipping back to the cobbles. Erik grinned down at him swaying slightly and Charles returned the gesture.

“It was groovy sharing consciousness with you” Charles attempted to say smoothly and failed as his words blurred into each other “And your body as well”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Erik deadpanned as he turned a snickering Charles back towards the street “Let’s go home”

Erik felt nothing existed outside the alley that echoed with their mirth. For a moment there was no greater purpose then simply to laugh in each other’s company. There was no uncertain future or bleak past. There was only the time spent together attempting to walk, holding each other for support, and stumbling all the way to the corner at the end of the winding alleyway.

A/N: The first time I saw X-Men FC I was immediately struck by how extendible this storyline was. There are so many weeks/ events/ moments/ relationships and stories that could be explored in much greater detail. My immediate fave was Erik and Charles looking for mutants. I mean how many mutants would they have visited? They never specified how long they looked for but just cause they only rustled up like 5 doesn’t mean they didn’t visit heaps more! That’s heaps of encounters with heaps of people with heaps of powers. It wouldn’t have always been easy. Anyhow I’ll cease the ranting and just suggest that there should be many more of erik-and-charles-looking-for-mutants fics.

Nightmares

2011-06-06T01:17:29Z

Title: Nightmares
Author: seraph05
Rating: PG
Fandom: X-Men (First Class)
Pairing: Charles/ Erik
Warnings: Non specific mentions of war camp
Disclaimer: Don’t own them. Must get around to doing that.
Summary: Charles cried out as he woke with a start. He switched his beside light on and sat up heart racing and pyjamas damp with sweat. He knew, he stood throwing off his doona, he ran. It was Erik.

Charles cried out as he woke with a start. He switched his beside light on and sat up, heart racing and pyjamas damp with sweat. He knew, he stood throwing off his doona, he ran. It was Erik.

***

His choked scream echoed through the unlit room. His body arched forcing the back of his head into his pillow. Phantom knives sliced and dug under his skin dragging his powers out from the fire. His lamp smashed against his bedroom door while dishes, fixtures and any other metal objects in his room flung from their place into the walls at a furious pace. He writhed in terror trying to escape the damp sheets that where twisted around his body and limbs like straps holding him down.

Beads of sweat flicked from his face as he finally pulled free falling from his bed. His eyes slammed open as his body smacked against the wooden floorboards. He lay still, heart pounding, disoriented in the black space. He could hear something like a voice, perhaps a speaker; it was saying his name. In the hallway outside he heard someone running towards his room. He scrambled to his feet and bolted to the nearest corner sinking low behind a cabinet. He snatched a silver pen off the ground with a trembling hand before releasing it to hover over his palm. He turned it to aim at the door.

Frantic knocks banged on the other side of the door along with a voice. It was the same as the one from before.

"Erik! Erik open this door!"

"No" he called back though his survival instincts began to calm. He knew that voice. He knew this place and he knew it wasn't where he'd been moments ago. As his disorientation lessened he realized his torturers where gone.

Suddenly a gentle breeze seemed to blow through his mind, he felt as though he remembered it from a summer long ago. His pulse began to slow and he felt someone's presence amongst the gentle wind. He closed his eyes.

"Charles" He breathed out head rolling to lean against the cabinet and pen toppling to the ground. He unlocked and opened the door with a loose wave of his wrist. Charles was across the room and kneeling before him in seconds.

He opened one eye to take in the dishevelled vision of his closest companion. The young man's stripy blue pyjamas lay in disarray, the top few buttons open and shoved to one side revealing pale skin beneath. His hair was clumped and messy. His skin looked clammy. His concerned expression paid no attention to his unkempt appearance, blue eyes almost glowing in the dim light. He let his vision slide closed pain scraping into his heart.

Memories of night terrors from before Xavier Mansion swam into his mind. He'd wake up confused and alone in motels, hostels and inns. Once he'd finally remembered where he was he'd lie bitter with rage and grief in the night. Fury for the things that where done to him, devastation for all he'd lost and isolation from the world would wrack his body and mind till morning. He gritted his teeth.

You're not alone anymore, my friend

Charles voice seemed to come from all around imbued with kindness and understanding. He felt fingers wipe the tears from his cheeks and leaned in resting his fevered forehead against Charles's.

"I know" he spoke quietly voice husky from shouting.

"I know" he thought as he reached out with his mind and drew as much of Charles to him a he possibly could.

A/N: Long Time No Post! Hey all! All yesterday i've been like *waits*...*taps finger impatiently*...*waits some more*...'PEOPLE AREN'T MAKING ART FAST ENOUGH FOR THIS PAIRING!' (i'm pretty used to being spoiled with fanart. i can't think of another time where i've gotten really into a pairing and NOT had a warehouse worth of art to eat through).

So i wrote this. I'd like it to be deeper, i wanted them to have more of a conversation but because i've only seen the movie once i don't have a super great feel for the way they talk to each other and how they converse.

You can probably expect another fic somewhere down the track (once i've seen it again) with cool-ass-proper conversations and kissing. And maybe some hot making out. Yeah there will definitely have to be some of that.

Also, this fic is AMAZING - http://homoerotics.tumblr.com/post/6170831506/between-rage-and-serenity

LLW The Resistance Chapter 1

2010-06-27T13:27:35Z

LLW The Resistance Chapter 1

2010-06-27T13:22:08Z

Title: LLW The Resistance Chapter 1
Author: seraph05
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Fall Out Boy
Pairing: Patrick/pete
Warnings: Swearing, low levels of violence
Disclaimer: I still don’t own these guys. It’s been so long. I mustn’t be trying hard enough.
Summary: Patrick is the leader of the resistance against the light zombies: the lumen. They capture a lumen to study it and in so doing learn to better defend against the lumen. However Patrick does not expect how the lumen will affect him.

Chapter 1: The Resistance

It had been a long time since such unrest had infected the inhabitants of Base 5. The fear was carried from one person to another like a virus spread with words. They had heard a lumen had been captured and brought into the base, their last haven. It was a dangerous move and while the decision had not been made lightly they resented it. The leader of the resistance in Base 5 went to meet the hunting team half way to the holding cell. He waited in the empty hall that had been cleared for the creatures passing. He watched the lights that lit the metallic grey corridor, every third one red to warn of the danger in the area. His right hand hung on the holster on his hip, which did not carry a gun but instead carried a large torch. It wasn’t long before a hunting team of four rounded the corner dragging with them the lumen. The team all dressed in ragged white stood in stark contrast to the lumen that was all in black. He struggled against the hands that held him making angry grunting noises. He yanked at the white knuckled fists that grasped his black hoodie. His tattered sneakers scrabbled and pushed against the ground. All the while his shoulders where arched and his chin pinned down to his chest hiding his face.

“Good job, it looks like you’re wearing him down”

The hunting team of four looked up to see their leader waiting.

“Patrick! Sorry it took us so long to get him down here, he knocked one of our team out on the way” The youngest of the four explained trying to stand to attention only to be shoved sideways by the arm he was holding.

“Who was it?” Patrick, their leader, asked sliding a pair of goggles over his eyes and adjusting the lens with a tiny leaver on the side.

“It was Urie. He’ll be fine” the youth replied trying harder to get a grip when suddenly the fabric twisted out of his grasp. The lumen reached forward and with a heavy sweep of his arm knocked the boy backwards. His unblinking eyes then turned on Patrick. He did not have visible eyes but instead had two pin prick lights that shone out of his pale impassive face. The intensity of their light magnified when meeting Patrick’s glare. Patrick drew his torch clubbing the lumen hard across the face. He then flipped it; clicked it on and grabbing the lumen by the neck shone the light into his face. With a cry the lumen fell back trying to shield his eyes and in that moment Patrick saw his features properly. Recognition sparked in Patrick’s expression as the hunting group wrested the lumen back into submission. Once they had him on his feet again Patrick reached out gripping the front of the lumen’s hoodie.

“Come on” Patrick barked dragging him forward while the boys restrained him as best they could. They reached the holding cell quickly and once inside they chained the lumen the ground with handcuffs. The cell was spartan; it’s only distinguishing features being a large one way mirror on the right wall and the steel loop welded to the ground which now held the lumen’s handcuffs in place.

“Alright, Deleon, you’re on guard for the moment. The rest of you are dismissed for the time being” Patrick said staring at the lumen that was now raking at his bonds.

“Thank you Patrick!” 3 of the group replied before filing out.
“Not that I mind sir, but aren’t you staying here? I thought you where going to begin the tests tonight?” Deleon asked. Patrick watched the blood that was trickling down from the wound the lumen had received from his torch.

“The tests that start tonight will be overseen by my team of researchers. There are some things I need to clarify with the other leaders so I have to leave for an hour or so. I’ll send down a guard to replace you while I’m there” Patrick answered “if anything happens report it immediately”

“Yes sir” Deleon said firmly as he and Patrick exited the cell locking the door behind them.

* * *

“What the fuck are you trying to pull?” Patrick spat down the radio transceiver as he paced in his office “What do I mean? Don’t play dumb with me. I know him, you know him!” There was a long pause as Patrick listened to the reply swiping a tennis ball off his desk and squeezing it.

“How did you find him? Why did you send him here? No you sent him here. He was caught at your base and sent here. I know it was the collective decision of the leaders to capture a lumen but why this one? Don’t dick me around Gabe” Patrick fired the questions hotly down the line shoving the tennis ball back onto the desk and moving over to his bookshelf. As he listened to the answers his eyes flicked over names and objects before they came to a photograph in an old wooden frame.

“There must be someone else” Patrick said “his mum, his dad, his wife” he reached up pushing the frame so it fell flat.

“Last time I checked you weren’t difficult to locate” Patrick spat moving back towards the chair behind his desk.

“Sure, yeah. Look I gotta make an announcement, fix all this fucking mess. We’ll talk later. Bye” Patrick finished shortly cutting off the radio signal. He sat behind his desk and massaged his temples. He slipped his goggles off and back around his neck. Patrick felt his agitation settling down as his eyes fell upon a well-used record player in the corner of his office. He checked the clock on his wall and decided to take a short break before he returned to his duties.

It was important to remain relaxed and composed a goal Patrick aspired to at all times. He pulled out the handle, inserted it into the side of the player and gave the machine several cranks. He then placed the large vinyl disk onto the player with care and gently set the needle on the record. A few soft static clicks emanated from the gramophone before Roberta Flack’s soulful voice came on. Patrick closed his eyes a hum that matched her tune vibrated on his lips. He sauntered slowly over to the small bathroom leading off from his office and turned the light on inside. He felt justified in having the only bathroom in an office in the base due to the fact that he tended to spend more time there then in his room. He filled the basin with water before splashing it on his face and neck. He slicked some through his hair and let the cool sensation calm him further. In the mirror grey eyes stared back and he studied his reflection.

Dark blond strands of wet hair lay along his forehead some reaching down to his sharp eyebrows. Cheekbones slid down to a curved jaw where stubble was scattered. He frowned counting how many days it had been since he left his room. He sighed deeply realizing it had been roughly a week and snatched a razor and some shaving cream from the side of the basin. 20 minutes later Patrick left his office a determined look presiding over his fresh shaven face.

* * *

“Good evening. This is Leader 5 Patrick Stump speaking” Patrick’s voice crackled over the speakers which reached to all corners of the base “I’ll just be interrupting the Trohman Radio Show with a quick announcement. I understand that there have been a lot of rumours going around about the lumen which is now within the confines of this base. I wanted to explain the situation so no confusion occurs. We have caught a lumen to study it and learn its behaviours. In this way we can become more efficient in repelling and controlling them. Once we have finished conducting our research the lumen will be removed. In the meantime he will be restrained and under constant surveillance. Floor 10 A is now a restricted area. There will be severe punishment dealt to anyone who causes trouble for the researchers or disturbs the lumen. If you have any concerns please call this radio station and we will do our best to dispel them. Thank you and goodnight”

Patrick finished the report and handed the mike back over to Joe Trohman who took it with an appreciative nod. He and Patrick knocked fists and smiled. Patrick then stood, exited the radio booth and began to make his way down to the holding cell. He had to be debriefed before calling it a day. He soon reached his destination and saw the research team was already in the small observation room to the right of the holding cell. He pulled his goggles back on then entered the observation room greeting the team that would aid him in his study.

The observation room was dim and most of the light inside came from the monitors situated on the tables at front of the room next to the window. In the corner of the room there was a basic shelving unit that held scientific and medical supplies. Next to the shelving there where a few different machines on wheels. There where five swivel chairs 3 of which where being taken up by the researchers. They had been monitoring and recording the lumen’s behaviours for the few hours Patrick had been absent. Each of the three researchers was also wearing protective goggles despite the one-way 3 inch thick glass that separated the o-room and the holding cell. One of the team stood and walked briskly over to him.

“Good Morning Patrick. My name is H. Williams and I am the head researcher of this team. 3 years into a pathology coarse just before the lumen took over” she said as she gave his hand a firm shake. She was the only woman of the team; young and with fiery red hair “This is York and Davis who where studying to become scientists”

“Thank you Williams good to know…Morning?” Patrick asked with a frown as he shook their hands.

“It’s 3 am,” York added.

“She’s very precise” Davis agreed.

“Sweet, we need that. Let’s get down to business then. Give me a break down of what you’ve got so far” Patrick said looking back through the window at their captor. The lumen sat cross-legged with his head bowed so low it almost touched the ground, face completely hidden except for the hint of light emanating from under the edges of his hood.

“Well he took a long time to tire” Williams sighed as she and her fellow researchers returned to their seats and began reviewing their notes “It took him…2 hours, 10 minutes and 23 seconds from when we arrived to stop moving. Taking into account he reportedly struggled since he was captured that would make up about 6 or 7 hours of constant high level activity. Therefore we can pretty much abandon the early theory that lumen are retiring predators that only hunt for brief periods in time. He hasn’t said anything yet so communication is still in question. We’re not sure if he can speak or if conversation is limited to a lumen based ‘light’ language.” She said making the inverted commas with her fingers “emotional responses have been minimal and even when angry little expression is shown in his face so we are currently only speculating the depth of his intelligence and feeling. Until we hook him up to some machines we’re not going to be able to judge much of the strength of his emotional or intellectual responses. But the events that occurred during the Ready Set incident suggest lumen are higher function beings. When there is no researcher present here there will be a Guard stationed outside the holding room door. There will always be a Guard on standby upstairs in case an emergency occurs. We’d need only call him down over the radio transceivers”

“We have yet to sedate him to take samples or conduct any intellectual tests but we have been writing a program and this is a running copy of it” Davis added handing Patrick a spreadsheet.

“Thanks for getting me up to speed. According to your current copy of our schedule I’m not going to be needed here again till tomorrow morning” Patrick said as he scanned the chart.

“That’s right. We’ve been ordered to arrange your participation in the emotional and intellectual tests by the other leaders. You don’t have to be present for the other tests if you do not wish” York explained “And of corse you are allowed to come here any time you please, we will not always be conducting experiments, so you can study him alone and you can review any of the security tapes taken at any time”

“Alright, sounds good. Keep up the good work and I’ll see you tomorrow” Patrick replied folding the piece of paper away and slipping it into his back pocket. When he looked up he was surprised to see apologetic looks avoiding his gaze.

“What’s the matter?” Patrick asked.

“We’re sorry about this Patrick. About explaining rules to you in your base. You’re the leader here and we believe in you but this experiment was a collective decision of all the leaders so we have to play by the collective rules” York said softly. Patrick watched them for a moment before stiffening up and replying with a brisk but hearty

“It’s perfectly fine; you’re just doing you jobs. No hard feelings I promise”

The team lit up at this comment and they said their farewells. Once outside Patrick leant on the wall leading away from the o-room in silent thought. He turned to leave but paused. He was glad to be alone in his indecisiveness. Finally he took a few steps back to the holding cell door, which had a large circular window in it. A few feet from him inside the room the lumen sat with it’s head on the ground facing him. Patrick watched him at length before unconsciously his hand came to rest on the door. As the palm of his hand pressed against the cold metal door the lumen began to move. His head rose soundlessly off the ground following his line of sight across the floor, up the door and to the window. Calmly the creature watched him. The blood on his cheek from Patrick’s attack earlier had dried. Patrick turned on his heel and walked away.

* * *

He plodded heavily up the stairs to the hallway where his bedroom was, his footsteps where the only sound accompanying him. At this time of night everyone was asleep in the Base 5 colony except maybe those who where watching movies in the media room. However that room was on the other side of the base, away from the sleeping quarters. Patrick had yet to see if his announcement or time had calmed the citizens down yet but he hoped he’d be able to tell at breakfast how morale had changed. He opened the door to his room and stared into the darkness inside. Patrick knew in the shadows there were a bed and all his things. The soft light from the hall highlighted certain objects on his bedside table and shelving. Gloss gleamed on an acoustic guitar at the back of the room. He leaned back, locked the door and walked on.

A few minutes later he was sinking into the chair behind his desk in his office. He threw his jacket off and un-tucked his white t-shit so it hung comfortably over his pants. He tilted the chair as far back as possible and dimmed the lights to almost nothing. He took his torch off and placed it on the desk next to him. He pulled the goggles down from the bridge of his nose and rubbed the pink rings they had left indented around his eyes. He gazed around his office till his eyes fell on the space that that photograph had left. Patrick now realized the futility in knocking it down. In its absence a dark spot where the light had not shone for years had been left. It was a shadow of what was passed. His arms slid around his stomach and he leaned back in the chair eyes sliding closed. It wasn’t long before visions of gleaming stares and horrors flashed under Patrick’s eyelids and a queasy anxiety stirred behind his arms. He pulled them tighter and prayed for morning.

* * *

When Embraces Where Easy

Patrick sat with Pete, his best friend, at the flight lounge of the LAX airport.

“So I guess this is goodbye for a little while, kid” Pete said replacing what had been a quiet few moments between them.

“You’re still calling me that?” Patrick sniggered.

“Only till you’re 30 and then it’ll be baby till the day we die. You keep getting younger remember? I’m the one that gets older” Pete replied cheekily.

“Stop watching Benjamin Button” Patrick warned, “All you ever do on plane flights is sit down, select and hit repeat”

“But it’s like non-stop distraction city. Brilliant for flying” Pete declined with a smirk.

“Geez you love long goodbyes” Patrick exhaled.

“All the slower to get away from you my dear” Pete said patting Patrick on the knee. There was a long pause.

“Is this gonna work?” Patrick asked. His voice was carefully crafted to lack any emotion. It was just a question and he knew he could deal with any answer, because if they had already made the decision to go their separate ways the answer didn’t really matter. Patrick had his career. Pete had his family. All the same while the words left his mouth, something deeper in Patrick was what asked it.

“Of course it’ll work, it’ll be fine. I’ll call you every day; you won’t be able to shut me up. I’ll fly over to see you, you’ll fly over to see me. We’re just an hour or two away from each other. You’ll be sick of me, I promise. This break’ll finish, we’ll start touring again and then not long after we’ll kill each other from spending too much time together” Pete answered in length. Patrick listened nodding and agreeing and eventually laughed. Patrick then turned his gaze to the well-manicured carpet in front of him.

Pete hugged Patrick and Patrick leaned into him with a smile.

“You’ll see”

End Scene

* * *

The bases radio crackled to life. The first song that played was the Hallelujah cover by Jeff Buckley and before it was done Patrick was awake and waiting to hear the morning show with W. Beckett. He remembered the day Beckett had begun to run the morning show. It had not been long after the last soldier of the army who once inhabited his base disappeared. The last had stayed for so long, taught them so much before he was gone. Patrick glanced over at a sports calendar on his wall, every page of which was adorned with motivation quotes (though Patrick didn’t really see how ‘You can’t hold back the mighty waves of the ocean so grab a surfboard’ was motivational). On the corner of the page currently hanging was a mention of what year it was. The year however was scribbled out and re-written many times. At present it read 2010 in Patrick’s handwriting. Under the current day scribbled in a big red texter was the letter

“R”

Patrick shut his eyes and let out a quiet groan. He hadn’t checked the calendar for a long time but suspected R day was coming up. He thought of the lumen in the basement, which might afford him a worthy enough excuse for skipping breakfast. His mind then ran to his responsibility to the base but in the end it was the memory of that last solider that dragged him out of his chair. He left his office and stopped by his room for a quick shower and a change of clothes. He didn’t stay longer then 10 minutes before pulling on his jacket and exiting his room. On the way to the mess hall he polished his goggles. The rims soon became a glossy copper colour and the adjustable lenses that reduced light moved more smoothly when clean. He checked the batteries in his torch, though this was more of a task to distract him rather then make him more presentable. At the final corner before the mess hall he tucked his t-shirt in, took a deep breath and prepared himself. Then he walked through the doors.

Stretching out before him was a wide mess hall with table after table of the inhabitants of 5. It was 9 o clock in the morning and break fast was being served. One thing Patrick was proud of about his base was the food available there. There was a wide range of options and as the seasons changed so did the food. This was largely due to the fact that Base 5 was the only one out of the other 4 with a small farming area inside. For such an early hour the people of 5 where quite rowdy and when they saw Patrick come into the hall they set their sights on him. A wave of spoons and forks whacking metallic plates and slamming benches rung out until it became a drum beat of a thousand or so strong. Patrick smiled brashly and waved as he headed over to the forklift that was kept in the hall for announcements. With a quick jump he was on it and raising it just above the level of the tables so that everyone could see him. Hanging from the side of the forklift was a megaphone and Patrick picked to up to address the crowd.

“Good morning Base 5!” He said as its inhabitants cheered and Patrick felt relief sink into his stomach. He was glad to see their mood had improved. Last time he had to deliver an announcement he had received little more then displeased glances. He spoke again, his voice projecting through the megaphone loud and slightly distorted.

“So it’s R day again, the anniversary of the beginning of the resistance” he called out as they all calmed down to listen “Never underestimate a kids power or strength” He said earnestly taking his time with the words he had prepared “It’s been 7 years since this all began. 7 years since people started disappearing. First in Sweden, then in Bombay, as far away as Melbourne before people began to disappear here too. The day we lost contact with Europe was terrifying” Patrick paused “but we persevered. We followed what rules where given to us and believed the best outcome would occur. We saw the faces of our predators, the Lumen, glowing in the night and we saw them take those we loved. 3 years ago the army brought us here to these five military bases. The last of the people they could gather up in America as quickly as possible. Our new home, a place where they said we’d be safe. They thought we’d forget the past because in their eyes kids forget but we don’t. We remember. Day by day, month by month the adults disappeared. The soldiers, the generals, our parents who we will never forget disappeared. We took up the slack, we began to work hard, we learned what we had to and we became what we needed to be strong. 2 years we’ve been together without an adult to hold the fort and we have thrived. In the forests that have crept up around us we have learned to hunt. In this building of grey steal we have painted murals. We have breathed life into the lifeless and we will never forget why we are here or how hard we had to fight and work to thrive as we do. We will not let the lumen take us or break us. We will shine our own light into dark places until the darkness is gone! This is the way we live on Resistance day! This is the day we never forget!”

The hall erupted into cheers and Patrick wondered how long their exuberance would last. He hoped it was at least until he could get the lumen out of the base. Outwardly he was the picture the confidence and optimism.

“Today on R day all food will be free, no ration cards needed” Patrick called to the delight of the crowd and with every sentence their happiness grew “the pool will be free, the arcade games will be free and running from 9 to 9 and anyone who works today will have these privileges tomorrow. Enjoy, celebrate! This is our day”

With that Patrick lowered the forklift and was met by some of his friends and co-workers. After shaking hands and having a chat he was invited to breakfast. He checked his watch briefly to find he still had some time left before he had to head down to the first test. Breakfast became a gloomy discussion of politics and power plays and Patrick soon found himself quietly tapping his foot under the table and pushing his food around his plate.

“So Patrick, I heard this whole lumen business was dropped in your lap by the other leaders, you must be pretty shitty about that” One of the people at his table said snapping Patrick back to attention. It was Marshall, a young kid that had recently become part of the hunters.

“No at all” He replied with a smile “The leaders vote on any important decision and we voted on weather or not to study the lumen. It is becoming necessary to know more about them, we no longer have contact with anyone outside America and our contact doesn’t stretch much further then the 5 Bases. We really don’t know if there are any people left in the world beyond us. If we are looking to preserve what’s left of the human race we have to be able to combat the lumen better then we have been so far”

“That’s all good and well but practically no-one has been taken in a year” Marshall said but there was a strange tone in his voice “Didn’t the leaders think it would be safer not to run the risk of breaching a base?”

“The disappearances have lessened because the lumen prefer adults. I’m 26 and I’m one of the oldest people in the bases. The oldest is 29. We don’t yet understand why the lumen take the older people but we are all living safely on borrowed time” Patrick explained “In 8 maybe 9 years none of us will be safe”

“That’s not the only reason though is it” Marshall asked staring at Patrick. Patrick held his gaze for a long time before Marshall added, “What happened at the shack 4 weeks ago? What’s The Ready Set incident?” Everyone at the table eyed Patrick warily waiting for his reply or at least his reaction. Patrick held his cool expression and replied simply with

“Recent events have caused us to move forward with the Lumen project. I am not at liberty to discuss the details of The Ready Set incident” he then stood briskly addressing the rest of the group before leaving the table “I’ll see you gentlemen later”

He was nearly at his office before he showed any emotion. He gritted his teeth and slammed the side of his fist into a wall he was walking past. The sound echoed around him and he continued to walk the throbbing in his hand distracted him. His fingers had wrapped around the door handle leading to his office when at his hip his radio crackled to life.

“Patrick, Patrick” Williams voice called through the static and Patrick unhooked it bringing it to his mouth.

“Leader 5 Patrick speaking, what’s the situation?” Patrick asked.

“It’s not exactly a situation” he heard her voice say with some reluctance “…the Lumen likes music”

* * *

Williams opened the door for Patrick as he strode into the o-room, goggles pulled over his eyes. Brief greetings where shared between the researchers as Patrick joined their group. He took a seat and stared into the holding cell. Inside the Lumen was pulling at his bonds again. He struggled with far less vigor and consistency then the day before. Patrick noted the cuffs on his wrists where beginning to leave bloody cuts and bruises. It was hard to see the Lumen’s expression but Patrick saw fatigue in his movements and that worried him. If they where to study the Lumen they needed him to stay alive and they had not yet discovered what he needed to function. The idea that he might die affected Patrick in a way that worried him but he quashed the queasiness in his stomach and turned to the research team.

“Give me a report of this morning’s events,” He said pulling a note pad out of one of his pockets.

“We came in at 7 this morning to begin some basic tests, take some samples and see what we could discover about him biologically. Resting body temperature and heart rate, blood type, breathing capacity, chemical levels however every time we set foot inside the holding cell he went berserk. We couldn’t even get close to him for fear of one of us getting hurt. He struggled violently to the point where he began bleeding. We tried everything to calm him down” Williams explained before Patrick cut in.

“What methods did you try?” he asked scribbling down notes.

“We tried talking to him, dimming the lights, brightening the lights and using sleeping gas on him. None of which worked, we where just about to call up the armory to bring down a tranquilizer when suddenly he became calm” Williams continued unable to mask her retrospective surprise.

“At first we couldn’t understand what had happened and why he had relaxed but then in the quiet, without all the noise he was making we heard the radio from the hall” York explained.

“He was swaying slightly, just slightly and we where able to enter the room without him becoming hysterical” Davis continued, “His expression was still blank and he didn’t seem to be outwardly any different except for the movement”

“It’s difficult to get sound down here, the best we can do is open the holding cell door so the radio from outside comes in but we don’t really want to risk breach” York said and with a deep sigh added “god I miss ipods, sexy little machines that they where”

“What time did you hear the song that effected him?” Patrick asked.

“About 9 o clock, it must’ve been the first song of the day” Davis answered “We would’ve written down what it was but by the time we realized it was the music was what was effecting him that song was finished”

“No need it was the Hallelujah cover by Jeff Buckley. I woke up to it this morning. He doesn’t seem calm right now, what happened?” Patrick questioned again.

“There’s a radio show on right now and we’ve already established talking doesn’t get through to him” Davis replied.

“The key to keeping him calm and to begin proper testing on him may lie in music” Williams finished.

Patrick scribbled down the last of his notes and turned to stare in at their captor who was now periodically yanking at the chains. With every tug the chains crunched under the pressure and his raw wrists jarred. Patrick watched him in silence though every crunch crashed in his eardrums. Patrick stood and put the notepad down on the desk in front of him.

“First aid kit?” Patrick asked Williams. She stared at him for a moment before pointing to a white box on the shelving unit in the corner. He strode past the researchers lifting the box off the shelf and then walked back out the door of the o-room. He stood in front of the holding cell door, turned the small leavers on the side of his goggles to reduce the light and slipped inside the holding cell. The Lumen stared up at him and ceased pulling on the chains though a low growl issued from the back of his throat. Patrick stared down at him pausing just inside the doorway. Immediately through the speakers he heard Williams voice on the microphone that allowed the o-room to communicate with the holding cell.

“Patrick, what are you doing?” she asked, her tone slightly concerned.

“Testing a theory,” Patrick said warily, keeping his eyes on the lumen “Watch him”

“Ok” came her voice and then the speaker went quiet. He couldn’t help noticing the reluctance in her tone.

Patrick studied the lumen’s posture and movement carefully.

“Hey” he said holding one hand up just above the height of his waist. The lumen didn’t respond “You hungry?” Patrick took a step forward and the Lumen shifted back shoulders lifted in a defensive way.

“Gabe wanted me to say hi,” Patrick continued lowering his hand as he took a step closer. The lumen lightly beat the ground with his palm and Patrick paused. He couldn’t decide if it was a warning or an attempt at communication. He waited and the lumen beat the ground again. Slowly over the space of 10 minutes the beat became less sporadic and more even to the point where Patrick was sure it wasn’t a warning. Patrick felt the beat was something he should remember. It was so simplistic and yet so familiar. He wracked his brains while the lumen continued posture slouched. He reminded Patrick of a child focusing very hard on the task at hand.

“Patrick what’s going on?” Williams’s voice asked softly over the speakers but despite her tone the lumen jumped, startled out of his pace. He shouted irately at the speakers before slumping back to his sitting position, head bowed. There were a few moments of silence before Patrick pressed his lips together and hummed. Another longer silence ensued before Patrick hummed again. The lumen looked up. Without moving his gaze he pressed his palm to the cold floor and with great concentration began the beat again. Patrick continued to hum the song he remembered. He remembered a word here and there of the lyrics but mostly he just held the tune. As Patrick hummed he began to move again stepping nearly on every second beat. He walked slowly and cautiously but the lumen didn’t react. He seemed completely absorbed in keeping the beat. Patrick lowered himself to his knees when he was within two feet of the lumen.

Patrick opened the white box he’d brought, still humming and pulled out some bandages and gauze. He looked down at the lumens hands and decided to bind the right one first since it currently wasn’t keeping the beat. He gingerly reached out towards the lumens right wrist a pad of gauze in one hand and a bandage in the other. His heart beat was speeding up and he could feel sweat beginning to gather on his brow. He tried to think souly of the song he was humming and not show any outward signs of distress. Though lumen where largely mysterious creatures Patrick knew most predators didn’t respond well to displays of fear. The tips of Patrick’s fingers touched the lumens skin and the lumen immediately hissed through his teeth. Patrick raised his gaze to see how frighteningly close he was to the lumen now. If the lumen wanted he could attack Patrick with relative ease.

The lumen’s face was set in the same detached expression he’d had since he’d been brought in. Patrick thought he detected a hint of melancholy in his slightly downward turned lips. He had a beard and a small tuft of hair sticking out from under the crown of the hoodie. Patrick began to repeat the song as he turned back to the lumen’s wounds. Patrick was almost certain the hiss had been an expression of pain not aggression. He wrapped each of the lumen’s wrists in bandages. He then pulled the sleeves of the lumens hoodie down through the handcuffs and over his hands to help protect his wrists from the handcuffs. Once this task was completed he turned to the cut on the lumen’s cheekbone. The blood had dried and the skin around it was an angry red. Patrick splashed a little disinfectant on a cloth and reached up wiping the blood off his cheek. Patrick felt lightness in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Old song, Wentz” Patrick murmured gently as the cloth touched the wound.

Suddenly a sharp shoulder bashed into Patrick’s chest and he fell landing on his back. He quickly made to get up but just as he found his footing the lumen’s foot cuffed him across his cheek knocking him back down again. His goggles where shoved down on one side and he quickly pulled them back up. He flicked out his torch and held it up ready to switch it on. His eyes darted back to the lumen that had rolled over onto his side in order to kick at Patrick again. Patrick took a step back and was beyond the lumen’s reach. The lumen struggled for a moment or two before slumping to the floor. He shuffled back as far from Patrick as possible and lay watching him. All this happened within a minute and the door swung sharply open a second later. Davis stood in the door way drawing his torch. Patrick turned and held his hand up gesturing for him to stand down.

“It’s ok! I’m fine, the disinfectant on the cloth must’ve stung his wound and set him off” Patrick explained as he and Davis both placed their torches back in their holders. After a few minutes of letting their heartbeats return to normal Patrick looked over at the one-way glass and asked “Williams did you get all that?”

“Yes, I’ve got a few questions for you” her voice came over the speakers and Patrick nodded. He and Davis returned to the o-room, locking the holding cell door behind them. Patrick expected to be met with a fiery glare from his colleges but instead their eyes where practically dancing.

“That was terrifying but fascinating” Williams said with a sigh.

“Do you realize you’re probably the first human to communicate with a lumen” York said excitably.

“Really?” Patrick said narrowing his eyes “I don’t think he was communicating with me”

“What do you mean?” York asked, “He created an action you supplied a response: communication” Patrick was watching the lumen that was still lying on the ground in the cell. He debated weather to tell his team what his take on the event was. He knew he was chosen because he would be able to read the lumen and elicit a response better then anyone else. However this did not make him feel comfortable about the part he had to play.

“I think he was trying to connect with me” Patrick said slowly “You said he liked music and that it calmed him. I think he wanted to use music to connect with someone”

“That suggests an emotional response” Williams said but Patrick detected sharpness in her tone. Patrick looked to her confused.

“Yes” Patrick agreed “Why?”

“I think it’s too early to conclude lumen can feel” she replied “In the last 48 hours he’s been caught, dragged, beaten and chained to a floor. I’ve watched him tare at those chains for hours till he bled and his face barely twitched in that whole time. He has shown no outward displays of feeling. The closest we’ve gotten to a measurable emotion has been aggression, which can be found in most predatory animals. I also suspect it was communication not connection he had in mind when he was hitting the ground. Beings can be intelligent without feeling”

“Like people with psychopathy?” Davis asked.

“Exactly” Williams replied.

“Wait” York said suddenly turning to Patrick “If he can’t feel then why did he shove you away? It couldn’t have been the antiseptic stinging”

All four looked back into the room. They remained silent thinking hard for a few minutes before Patrick changed the subject.

“He’s exhausted. We don’t know what lumen eat or drink if they do so at all. We have to find out what he needs to sustain him or we’ll lose our test subject” Patrick masked the pain this idea created well.

“We’ve always worked on the assumption that lumen consume souls and that is what keeps them alive. Maybe he hasn’t consumed a soul recently and if that’s the case there’s nothing we can do” Williams said coolly.

“We’ve also established that lumen can go for a very long time without a soul otherwise there would be none left now, their numbers have dwindled but they are long from extinct” Davis added “Plus his energy levels have been decreasing rapidly since he got here. It’s something he’s not getting in the base that he got outside that’s making him exhausted”

They discussed the differences between the outside world and holding cell for an hour before Davis stood up abruptly from his chair.

“It’s sleep!” Davis exclaimed grinning “Lumen are nocturnal creatures and hate the light. Since he got here last night he’s been involved in high levels of activity and stress. The whole time he’s been here we’ve left the light on in the holding cell to try and subdue him. It’s now 12 pm for us which is the middle of his night”

Patrick couldn’t hide his smile and he too stood patting Davis on the shoulder.

“Good job, looks like we’re going to have to change our schedule around a little” Patrick mused “We’ll turn off the lights and resume our studies later on tonight. Let’s say 8pm. York and Davis, in one hour I want you to come back and see if you can hook the lumen up to any of the machines. Maybe we can get some information while he sleeps; he’ll be less likely to struggle. Williams can you make copies of the security tapes for each of us, we need to go over the lumens interaction with me and try to ascertain why he attacked me”

The members of the team nodded and began setting up for the break. York and Davis moved the machines into the holding cell as close to the lumen as possible so as to make less noise when they came back later. The lumen lay still seemingly ignoring them. Williams made copies of the security tapes and handed them out to each of their colleagues.

“Alright see you in a few hours” Patrick bid his team farewell before leaving the cell. He made his way back to his office and sat down to write a report of all their findings to send to the other leaders. He wrote out carefully every event of progress they’d made up until the lumen’s attack. His eyes flicked over to the DVD Williams had burned for him. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair and replayed the event in his head. He remembered how the lumen’s eyes had watched him and how close they had been. Patrick thought for sure the lumen had hissed when he’d touched the wound on his wrist. He had the feeling that the largest reason William’s had discounted the theory that lumen could feel pain and emotions was that she didn’t want to think that they where all conscious but sadistic murders. She wanted to believe that they where animals that couldn’t think at all. Patrick opened his eyes and put the DVD into his small DVD/TV player. He decided to try and view the situation with her theory in mind. He skipped through to the point where he had knelt down and pressed play. There where 4 different angles to watch and the one that was angled from over the lumen’s shoulder caught Patrick’s eye. It was his own expression that surprised Patrick.

On the small screen he could see it clear as day. There was warmth in Patrick’s movements and expression he didn’t realize he’d shown. While his goggles hid his eyes Patrick could see it in everything else he was doing. He was leaning forward slightly he was moving slowly and gently. Patrick sat back in his chair a little stunned but continued to watch. At the point when he’d spoken Patrick paused and rewound the tape. He played it again in slow motion. He watched the four screens vigilantly and in unison they gave up the truth. The cloth covered the wound on the lumen’s cheek without a single flinch for a full 3 seconds before he attacked Patrick. Patrick sat in shock hand covering his mouth.

“It was the words” Patrick whispered eyes glued to the lumen on the screen “He understood me”

Patrick swore shoving himself out of his chair. He paced his office staring mouth open at the screen, one hand tangled in his short hair. Patrick felt as though his heart had climbed up and wedged itself in his throat. He never really believed the lumen would respond to him. He had thought; how could something without a soul remember or care. Now Patrick knew beyond any doubt that the lumen had remembered him. The lumen hadn’t remembered a song or a face but he’d remembered his own name. In a few hours Patrick knew he would have to return to the holding cell and face the lumen again. Half of him wanted to run down to the cell, he could imagine his legs as he bolted down the metal staircases and towards that door. Half of him never wanted to see the cell again.

* * *

The Ready Set Incident
Part 2

It was almost like a dream the way the black branches of the trees looked like hands curling and reaching for the run down shack. The blue paint was half peeled off and brown boards had replaced some rotted wood here and there. The little ribbons of light shone through the cracks and slats of the house and windows where the only light Joe Trohman could see. The sky above was pitch black and Joe wished the clouds weren’t obscuring the stars and moon. It was a warm night, slightly humid and Joe could feel the sweat on his skin. He could hear music emanating loudly from the shack and despite it’s happy tune it did nothing to set his mind at ease. The large lantern hanging in Joe’s hands rattled and he continuously turned around wary of his surroundings while he made his way to the shack. In the distance he caught a glimpse of the Base 5 and reminded himself he was only a 15 minute run from the safety there. As he grew close to the front door of the shack the noticed in the dust on the door there was several handprints from the kids who where now inside as well the letters ‘TRS’. He banged on the door and saw movement behind the peephole. As the door swung open all the flashing lights inside and the music engulfed him. He felt as if he where being pulled inside and a smile cracked the tense expression on his face.

He staggered into the crowd of kids some clapping and cheering. Several welcomed him to the party while the door was locked behind him. In the middle of the room the parties mastermind Jordan Witzigreuter cavorted. Joe grinned and made his way over. The boy was 20, had shoulder length brown hair and like everyone else in the room was wearing raggedy white clothes.

“Jordan!” Joe called out and grabbed his shoulder. Jordan turned around and grinned from ear to ear.

“Joe you made it!” he said “Welcome to the party”

“Thanks bro thanks. Man this place is going off!” Joe said staring around as people danced and sung, “This is brilliant, hey have you got a torch?”

“Yeah man. Mike torch” Jordan said proudly holding up a microphone that was lit from behind the tiny grill at the top “Hey Sisky’s here, ill go tell him you’ve arrived” Jordan said and shot off into the crowd. A few minutes later Sisky emerged. Sisky had been a friend of Joes before the lumen had overrun the states. He had only discovered Sisky was living in Base 2 recently.

“Joe, how’s it going!?” Sisky laughed shaking Joe’s hand.

“Great, great, how’s everything been going at Base 2?” Joe replied.

“Pretty sweet, we just finished fixing up the old generator so if we have another power out we’ll be fine” Sisky explained, “How is everything at your base? How’s Patrick?”

“Patrick’s great, he’s been handling this leader thing pretty well and Base 5 is the same as ever. Colourful and a little cold” Joe snickered “How has the party been so far?”

“Pretty sweet I mean a few kids are running late but I think there’s gonna be stragglers all night” Sisky explained, “Oh man, I love this song!”

Sisky joined the dancers while Joe studied his surroundings. The small run down shack had been a kind of getaway for the kids of the different bases for years. It had holes in the roof and walls, there was a broken piano in the corner, opposite the piano there was a cupboard and the carpet below their feet was moth bitten and missing chunks. Despite it’s shortcomings it was the only place around that wasn’t made of metal. It was the only place that smelled like wood and dust and for that it was dearly loved. From the rafters and walls hung necklaces and trinkets of kids and adults who had come and gone from this place. Jordan had craftily hung a string of light bulbs that was attached to a devise that staggered the electricity they received making them flash. Joe was almost certain the light bulbs had been stolen from the supply units in Base 5 but turned a smirking blind eye. The windows where barred some with wooden slats that had been nailed over them and some with chicken wire. This made Joe nervous not only because of how easy it would be for the lumen to get in but also how difficult it would be for them to get out quickly. There was only one door in the room and no attic above their heads. On the far side of the room Joe spotted a trap door in the floor. Once he was satisfied he had checked all parts of the room he headed over to pick up some punch.

As the night went on more kids continued to arrive however the later they came the more shaken they where. Some of them said they thought they had seen lights in the woods. Most of the party crowd brushed this off assuming the lights where just other kids on their way as everyone at the party had brought their own torch. Joe uneasily noted nearly none of them had goggles. Jordan began performing again and the party grew giddier with everyone dancing. Though Joe wasn’t completely at ease he joined in too. After a few songs he began to relax and didn’t even notice the knock at the door. Since Jordan was closest he finished up singing and checked who it was through the peephole.

His shoulders sunk a little as he recognized the girl outside. She looked scared. He opened the door without a smile, his verve drained by the sight of her. She stared at him mouth opening into an apologetic smile as she stepped inside. She reached for his hand in a strange way and then suddenly she disappeared into the darkness. From where she had stood a lumen appeared. Joe turned at the sounds of gasps and shouts. Moving through the doorway was a lumen. Joe’s eyes widened in realization and terror.

End Scene

* * *

The days that followed the Lumens attack on Patrick where fairly uneventful. The study resumed with acceptance that for the moment non-one could ascertain exactly why the Lumen had attacked Patrick. Patrick had not told them of his discovery and became less of a presence in the experiments. The team gathered samples and learned that the biology of the Lumen was essentially human except for an unexplained well of energy that kept the Lumen from tiring beyond sleep. The team decided that this explained the lumens unnatural strength and speed. Occasionally the Lumen would struggle all night and the team had taken to studying him partly through the day and partly though the night. It was easier to work on him when he was sleeping.

One week after the attack Patrick came down the hallway to the observation room pulling a trolley behind him. He pulled his goggles up and walked the step or two extra over to the holding cell door window. He stared in at the lumen that was struggling with his chains. Patrick watched him for a few moments as today his hood was pulled back. Patrick hadn’t yet seen him like this and he couldn’t ignore a pang in his chest at the sight of the lumen hoodless. Sitting a few feet from the lumen was a machine. Cables reached from the machine to the Lumen and where attached to his head with small white pads. It didn’t seem to bother the lumen who was more intent on attacking the chains then the pads on his head. The light in the room was dimmed for the lumens comfort, as had been the case for the past few days. Patrick took a deep breath and turned back to the o-room.

He opened the door and the team looked to him with smiles.

“Afternoon Patrick” Williams said while York tilted his head up in greeting and Davis gave a quick wave.

“Hey team. How is everything going?” Patrick asked casually.

“Good, great, he’s all hooked up and ready to go. Did you bring it?” Davis replied unsuccessfully hiding the fact that he was trying to look around Patrick.

“No patience at all” Williams scolded while Patrick stepped aside revealing the trolley.

“I want to go on the record to say if this is damaged one of you three will be getting me a new one” Patrick said darkly.

“They’re rare as hens teeth!” York exclaimed.

“I know” Patrick replied darkly.

On the top rung of the trolley sat Patrick’s prized portable gramophone. The three researchers got up and with childlike curiosity looked the machine over. Patrick opened the lid and let them gaze inside.

“I’ve never seen one of these before” York said.

“I have” Davis said eyeing the label on the lid “Molotov Gramophone. 1950”

“I found it in an antique shop before the army found me” Patrick explained “I felt kind of bad for taking it but the town was a ghost town and I hated to see it go to waste”

“As Davis said before he’s all hooked up and ready to go, we can monitor the patterns his neuron-transmitters fire off from here” Williams said gesturing to the computers screens which now showed simple colorful pictures in the shape of a brain “It’s not going to be as actuate as an MRI but we may be able to get a general idea of what’s going on in his head”

“Excellent” Patrick stated turning to walk out the door “Alright I’m going in”

“What are you gonna play?” York asked as Patrick shut the door. He pushed the trolley over to the holding cell and opened the door. The lumen eyed him with wide glowing eyes and while he continued to struggle his ferocity began to lessen. Patrick shut the door and pushed the trolley into the corner.

“I was thinking Nat King Cole” Patrick said loudly looking through his small collection of vinyls.

“Sounds good” York said over the speakers “ok cutting com now, well only use the radios from here on out” he continued and the speakers went silent.

Patrick pulled the vinyl out of its sleeve and placed it on the record player. He pulled out the handle and began cranking the gramophone. Behind him he could hear the lumen had now stopped struggling completely. Patrick put the needle gently on the record and after a few telltale clicks he turned to watch the lumen.

A soft lilting piano tune took to the air and the lumen sat up straight. Patrick could almost see the lumens ears prick up to hear the sound.

“The classics” Patrick sighed to the lumen. He hadn’t spoken to him since the attack. The smooth gentle voice of Nat King Cole followed the music into the room. It slow danced around Patrick and the lumen. The lumen wasn’t watching the gramophone. He was staring into Patrick’s eyes. In the dim light Patrick thought he could see longing in the lumens features. Patrick’s bottom lip curled under his teeth as he looked to the side and away from the Lumen. He fought every urge to show expression of what he was feeling.

“I know, I chose this song” Patrick whispered, “Don’t worry I’ll put on Fly me to the moon next” The radio on his hip made a tiny beeping noise. Patrick picked it up whispering “yeah?”

“There’s something strange going on, we where monitoring him for an hour before you came for control figures and his brain is acting completely different now. Not only that but something strange is building. We’re not sure what it is yet but keep a close eye on him and be careful, he may be preparing to attack your soul” Williams explained quickly and quietly.

Patrick looked back over to the lumen turning the levers on his goggles to show the least amount of light. Patrick knew too well that when lumen attack and take souls their eyes lightened to blinding proportions. The lumen then would bathe their victim’s retinas in light then using the victim’s pupils see through to the soul take the soul. The lumen had tried to do this to Patrick the first time he saw him. However currently the lumen sat where he had been sitting, eyes normal if not dim. Patrick squinted. Cautiously he turned the leavers on his goggles to let in a little more light.

He could see very clearly that the lumen’s eyes where not getting lighter but in fact where dimming. Patrick was unexpectedly filled with fear. Not fear of the lumen but for him. He fought the urge to run over and instead pulled his radio to his mouth.

“What’s going on Williams, talk to me” Patrick said feverishly “His eyes are dimming, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know…the activity in his brain is still building…perhaps we should abort” Williams said her voice anxious.

“I don’t know, I don’t know” Patrick repeated taking a step towards the lumen. His eyes had grown so dim Patrick could now see the faintest outline of an iris. He had never looked more familiar to Patrick then in that moment. The lumens posture was relaxed, he leaned forward as if wanting to get closer but being held back by his cuffs. Patrick couldn’t hide the concern in his face and then suddenly there was a whispering in his ear. He could almost feel the breath that came with it. The radio slipped away as his fingers loosened. It hit the floor with a crunch. His legs felt week and his heart pounded in his chest.

Patrick.

His now free hand flew to cover his ear and his mouth hung open. The lumens mouth hadn’t moved. The lumen hadn’t budged an inch from where he’d sat leaning forward. Patrick stuttered the lumens name stepping back. He walked backwards till he came to the door. His back lay flat against the door as he watched the lumen.

The com cut over the sound of the music and the lumens eyes immediately began to brighten.

“Patrick are you ok?” It was York.

Patrick stood in silence his mind racing. The lumen spoke. Somehow it had spoken to Patrick. He didn’t take his eyes off the lumen but as it’s eyes brightened Patrick could see what sense of personality he’d had fading from his being. Patrick knew what he had to do. He had to talk to the lumen alone. Patrick knew this was not in aid of the experiment as well as he knew he had to do it. He began to make a plan.

He was falling back. Patrick snapped to attention as he staggered backwards into the hall realizing someone had opened the door he’d been leaning against. His research team surrounded him asking him a barrage of questions.

“I’m fine, I’m fine” Patrick assured them looking past them and thorough the window to the holding cell door “I thought I heard something strange but it must have been the record skipping or something”

“We didn’t hear any skip and you dropped your radio right after the highest spike in the lumens brain activities” Williams replied shining a small medical torch in his eyes “Are you sure nothing else happened?”

“Certain, but just to be sure let’s review the tapes” Patrick said motioning to the o-room. The team looked at each other and after a moment agreed.

An hour passed while they collected and recorded data. While they all worked Patrick stole glances at the lumen inside till there was a knock at the door. Patrick got up and opened it. Standing outside was Joe Trohman. Patrick introduced Joe to the team before they stepped out into the hall to talk.

“So what brings you to this restricted level?” Patrick asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“I hear its not restricted if your close friends with Leader 5. Came to ask if I could do a show about how the experiments are going” Joe asked “I thought it would be good to keep people informed”

“Yeah that actually sounds like a great idea. We could send tapes of the show to the other bases to keep them informed as well” Patrick agreed. He looked at the o-room door for along moment and then back to Joe.

“I want show you something” Patrick said secretively “Because I think you have as much stake in this as me”

Joe frowned curiously.

“Ok, what is it?” Joe asked. Patrick took Joe by the arm and led him over to the door of the holding cell.

“Take a look” Patrick said. Joe looked through the window. Inside the lumen was tugging lazily at his bonds.

“Oh my god” Joe said softly.

“Can you believe it?” Patrick said watching the lumen.

“It’s Pete” Joe said voice a mixture of emotion.

“I know” Patrick said softly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Joe take a step back and looked over. Joe’s face had gone pale and a mixture of fear and sadness controlled his expression.

“What’s wrong Joe?” Patrick said worriedly.

“I didn’t tell you because I thought it would never matter and I didn’t want to upset you” Joe said slowly “But at the Ready Set Incident the lumen who was leading the attack, the one who I can only assume planned it, was Pete”

A/N: Did you miss me peterick fans? It’s been a while. This fic is kind of based in the world of the Love Like Woe video by The Ready Set ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oh6Oz-L156c ). I say kind of because i expanded the world with so many original details inspired by the inciting incident in the Love Like Woe video. Like i said this is the closest thing to an original extensive fic i've written so be kind to be cruel. Kid gloves when you comment.

Bleh

2010-03-08T09:12:32Z

And so my mum says i've gotta believe in myself before i go see this guy to i dunno talk about a job or something. but what she doesn't understand is a have a staggeringly low self esteem. I brag a lot, i talk myself up a lot but underneath it all i am that clich'ed character whose inundated with insecurities and lack of self belief. the only time i ever began believing in myself was when i was seeing my therapist and now i can't remember why i did. I don't think i'm all that pretty or talented i think i might be intelligent. the only thing i believe i can do well is dance but i don't wanna place my life on dance. dance is for my soul not for my wallet. I get D and HD's all the time now but i see other people's work and my work means less to me. My mum says there will always be someone better then me and someone not as good as me so all i can do is try my best and try to improve all the time. it's a nice sentiment but now, once again, i'm facing the future (one of my biggest foes, almost my nemesis) and i'm being told that this profession i've chosen is cut throat and only the best get to the top. the extremely talented. so 'being the best that i can be' may just not be good enough.

anyway what's bugging me out about this is that the reason i have this interview is because someone called in a favor and talked me up. said i have 'new ideas' says i'm bright and brilliant. what the fuck are new ideas? i don't have any fucking 'new idea's' my major animation this year is about a little boy robot. come on. new ideas. fucking new ideas what like 'gay boys are hot?' or rather 'rockstars who aren't really gay but act gay are hot?' great idea. fresh. original. not. i found beatles quotes the other day that where slashy.

fucking new ideas. %99 per cent of the art i make is fanfic and pic. i own none of it. i've created none of it. i spin a good yard. i twist a story or two but with characters that people already know and love. and whenever i do a non fanfic one i barely get more then a comment. nothing.

i'm a raging ball of regurgitated art. brilliant. and i'm gonna have to go and stand in front of this guy and smile and say 'actually i'm not all that and i have raging balls of regurgitated art'. I would hope that he would laugh at that but i would know that i would leave the building with nothing too.

why couldn't i just go along like i always have, for the most part not believing in myself and faking the rest.

Old songs

2010-02-22T14:36:50Z

Why is it old songs seem so much more beautiful and personal? I mean it's like time is spent and singers are really feeling what they're saying. And the lyrics are so personal "like a song of love that clings to me, how the thought of you does things to me, darling your unforgettable" it's like an eternal thought "I'll never forget you" except beautiful and poetic and more true sounding then any "I'll never forget you". I mean what do we have now? "that guy is cute, I wanna sleep with that guy, I don't even know his name" or "damn she's a sexy bitch" thanksandfuckoff "I want your love, I don't wanna be friends" what happened? When did love songs stop being romantic and start being placed under 1 of 2 catagories - lame or trashy. I missed that meeting, I think that meeting was well before my birth. When did love become sex, booze and broken hearts? Maybe old songs are lies. Maybe love like that never existed but damn if nat king cole doesn't make me belive.

Alpha Dog Music Video

2009-12-12T11:16:51Z

Hey ya'll i've made another music video~! i know what you're thinking, 'again bullwinckle!' *unless you haven't seen the rocky and bullwinckle show, in which case you're probably thinking 'what the fuck is a bullwinckle?' and i'm thinking 'where was your childhood?'*

i digress.

here's a link, if you watch it i hope you like it, it's a bit different from my usual style -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmLX8wM9qoQ&feature=email

Graffiti and Guitars

2009-12-09T07:45:41Z

Title: Graffiti and Guitars
Author: seraph05
Rating: PG
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Ferard
Warnings: None…well the illegal act of graffiti!
Disclaimer: um don’t own the band i wish this was how Frank and Gerard met but i'm thinking it's definetly not XD
Summary: The first time I saw him I stood up.

The other passengers ignored the quick act of notorious anonymity that passed by their windows. The sunlight shone around them and as we drew closer I placed my book beside me and rose. There were two of them wrapped in black like shadows.

The first time I saw him I stood up.

The other passengers ignored the quick act of notorious anonymity that passed by their windows. The sunlight shone around them and as we drew closer I placed my book beside me and rose. There were two of them wrapped in black like shadows. One artist, spraying pictures over gray concrete, and one watchman. I felt the cool clear glass under my palms as I steadied myself. The watchman turned to fix us with a glare and his eyes met mine, face emerging from the hood. Just a little colour peering out of the drab, like the fresh graffiti on the wall behind him. A pair of jade and jaded eyes. Then he was gone speeding away in a blur of distance. The day continued but I kept a piece of the moment he stole.

* * *

Fingers.

At the end of the day that’s what it came down to.

I drove over to Ray’s one summer afternoon for band practice. Dark glasses, a cigarette and leather jacket reflected me in the review mirror. When I arrived, Mikey was already waiting for me and Bob was setting up. It was mostly like the hot languid days that preceded it except for the fact that Ray had invited the kid along. The garage was humid and I left the door open when I entered in the hopes that some cool air would join us.

“Hey Mikey, Bob” I said tossing my jacket off in an attempt to adjust to the heat “Where’s Toro?”

“He’s getting something to eat but he’ll be back in a sec” Mikey replied.

“Ok” I said dropping my backpack of notebooks to the side “When’s the new kid getting here?”

“Anytime now, Ray said Iero was supposed to be here bout half an hour ago” Bob answered glancing at a clock on the wall. Ray entered with a few bags of chips noting my presence.

“Iero?” Ray asked Bob.

“Yeah” Bob replied.

“He’s always fucking late” I murmured.

“Maybe its cause you’ve been calling him new kid all this time” Ray commented “punks take offence to names like that”

“Yeah well he wouldn’t be new if he’d spent more then an hour with us in the last 2 weeks” I replied plugging in the mike “Lets get to it, no point in waiting. Skylines and Turnstiles?”

Hours flew by under the heat of the sun and heavy practice. Bottles of water then beer collected around the feet of my band mates and me till the sunset ended our practice. A slight haze of alcohol had set in and I stayed to practice more with Ray while Bob took Mikey home and then went to work. Ray had gone inside to get some water when the kid finally showed. I looked up expecting to see Ray with water and instead I saw a disheveled kid with a beat up guitar. He looked indignant.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Came for practice. Got busted by cops. That’s why I’m late” he replied.

“I don’t care” I told him honestly “I don’t want you as part of this band anymore”

“What?! So I’ve been late a few times, so what. This is bullshit” he spat back. I crossed the room grabbing onto the front of his t-shirt.

“No, you’re late every time. So late that when you get here it’s not actually practice anymore” I spat back, losing a battle with what little of my patience I had left.

“You’re so fucking uptight!” he snarled back.

“Listen kid, you may already be in a band and they might not care what time you get in or if you get in at all but this is different” I growled.

“Oh yeah how? Shitty garage, shitty equipment, shitty instruments” he snarled, shoving me from him “It’s all the same to me!”

“This is more than a band we’re trying to build!” I shouted back “Something more than the sum of its shitty parts! Something like hope” his stance relaxed a little glare intense “Hope that this place won’t get you and tear you apart. Hope enough to go on. Maybe save some fucking lives instead of causing bitch fights between punks”

He fell silent, mouth closing and eyes hiding in a gaze trained to the floor. I shoved passed him, and stormed into the house. Ray was sitting at the kitchen table. He had been waiting and handed me a drink. I sat opposite him, sculling half of the bottle before settling down to watch him. I could tell he wanted to say something about the kid but was holding back. I didn’t feel like asking or talking so I just ignored him and listened to the noises of the summer night. It seemed like an age had passed when the phone rang. Ray left to kill the shrill ringing that was cutting the quiet. However, when the ringing did stop and Ray’s muffled voice replaced it I heard something else as well.

Then there was a noise. A quiet echoing pitch. The warm sound of silver stings on a wooden body. I listened to it, feeling the smooth bottle and condensation under my fingers and my entire mind went blank but for the sound. The tune lifted and fell in a sober slow dance with the night air. I moved to my feet and followed it back to the shed, legs heavy, and watched him silently from the door. He sat on an old amp playing Ray’s acoustic softly. In the wake of his music I took him in properly for the first time since he’d asked to join.

From under his black t shirt drawings crawled across his skin. A Japanese sunrise burst from his elbow and a scorpion climbed up his jugular. His hair was messy and from under it I could see faraway green eyes that were hiding when I left him before. Even they seemed to be hearing the tune and feeling it out. His fingers moved gently over the fret board. On his knuckles I could see a needled tattoo of the letters ‘Halloween’. However blotting over them and creating a canvas down to his fingertips was paint. Red, yellow, blue, green, pink and purple dipped back and forth with his fingers.

I moved closer without feeling the footsteps I walked. He looked up, surprised, and lowered the guitar. A few moments passed between us before I slid onto the leather couch next to him. I rested my forearms on my knees.

“Go on” I prompted him and with the gentle nudge he continued. It was so beautiful, it seemed to be everything he wasn’t but it was in that choir of colors and sound that I realized this was him.

“Graffiti” I realized aloud and he stared back with those eyes I’d met on a train ride.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re like graffiti” I replied smiling. A grin dawned over his neutral expression.

“Annoying thing to get busted for” I continued and he agreed with a snickering nod.

“If you’re with us you’re with us” I offered holding my hand out. He took it in a firm shake.

“Thanks” Frank beamed.

“Frank Iero?” I asked.

“Yeah?” he said.

“I never said that before” I admitted “Do you prefer Frank or Frankie?”

“Anything’s better then new kid or hey you” Frank laughed.

“Welcome to the band then Frankie”

Graffiti and Guitars

A/N: I wrote this fic for XXMCR-DevotedXX's my chem comp over at DA. I was trying to put across a few ideas in this that i'm not sure if people will get or not. For example Gerard recognizes Franks graffiti, which brings color to grey places, as an agent of hope for the people who take the trains and enjoy the mural of art on their way to mundane things like work or school or uni etc. This as well as franks ability to play is why Gerard decides to take Frank on. In turn Frank realizes that much in the same way that he creates art for the people he can make music that will reach the masses and bring hope (provided the band makes it in the music business) and this is why he calms down and resolves to take the band seriously. I hope this comes across though I’m not sure if it will.

Also as a matter of interest the song I imagined Frankie playing was Funeral by Band of Horses - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibE7IqEjni4 (I just imagined the music though, not the singing). It’s an awesome haunting song.

Never watch romance movies

2009-11-16T13:51:48Z

rule 1 in caras notebook of staying happy and positive -

never watch romance movies or romantic comedies. they're ok while i watch them but i spit venom afterwards. it's generally a pretty bad night for me after a romance movie. unless the movie ends in some sort of tragedy or the romance comes with realistic provisos. a straight out 'happily ever after' leaves me pissed.

Insomnia Favors The Perceptive

2009-10-13T12:15:52Z

Title: Insomnia Favors The Perceptive
Author: seraph05
Rating: PG
Fandom: Fall Out Boy
Warnings: none
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Disclaimer: This story comes from my own skewed imaginings which should never be taken as reality.
Summary:Insomnia can be both boring and lonely, a fact that Pete is all to familiar with. Though he has found ways to pass the time.
(1,188 words)

Pete couldn’t decide if he felt envious or jealous of Patrick. The way he lay so still under covers and the complete gentle innocence on his face captured Pete’s attention either way. His breathing was so soft yet it seemed to cover the occasional sound of cars streaming past the shitty motel they where staying at. Pete could hear Joe and Andy snoring in the next room and was glad it had been his turn to share a room with Patrick. They looked peaceful when they slept and where just as interesting to watch from time to time but Pete felt calmer when watching Patrick sleep. He looked at his retro digital watch. The time was dragging on close to 4am now. He sighed, disgruntled, and rubbed his eyes. He wondered how mad they would be if he shouted and woke everyone up. He’d have to explain why he did it. He contemplated his excuse and how winding he could make it so as to prolong their return to bed and his return to solitude. Eventually, with a huff, he decided against it.

It was 4:30 when he began to reach out to shake Patrick awake. His stretch began quickly but faltered and slowed till it was floating above his shoulder. He knew he shouldn’t do it. He knew Patrick would be pissed and in all honesty he did want quality company over quantity of time. So he sat, hand hovering and contemplated some more. During the day his answers came like lightning but at night he spent forevers on yes and no. It was like if he wasted enough time he could use it all up. Back home he used to stand in the dark in front of open fridges till he was shivering while asking himself the question ‘should I drink milk out of the carton or get a glass?’. Patrick was more important then milk so Pete weighed the pros and cons with a considerable amount more care.

When Pete was about half way through his list of ‘I should because, I shouldn’t because’ Patrick stirred. Pete froze and held his breath hopefully. Patrick mumbled, shuffled deeper into the blankets and turned onto his back. As his muscles all relaxed again his head tilted back down on the pillow this time facing Pete. Pete’s hand now rested on the air between his palm and Patrick’s cheek. Patrick settled and Pete’s shoulders drooped but he watched Patrick more intently. Patrick’s messy hair hung all over his face and Pete’s eyes laughed softly. His fingertips lowered gently sweeping the hair away bit by bit till his face was no longer hidden.

The dips and curves in his cheeks made dark blue shadows while his skin glowed white to contrast them. His eyelashes swept out framed by dark gold eyebrows, one with a nick through it. His sharp nose made a bridge between his forehead and his lips, which even in the dark Pete could detect the pink there. Pete decided he wasn’t jealous but he was a little envious of that faraway place people went at night and how peaceful they looked when they where there. Pete could only have the equivalent of a postcard of that place. He felt irony in the fact that the boy who never slept was best friends with the boy who could sleep anywhere.

Pete’s fingertips bent away and his knuckles traced the edge of Patrick’s jaw down to his chin. The touch was barely there but one of his knuckles brushed Patrick’s bottom lip. The only word that glided through his mind was a whispered ‘soft’ everything else about the moment was feeling. He felt light. Patrick murmured and Pete snapped out of his trance. The silence that had built around him as he’d watched Patrick vanished and he could hear the cars and feel time (his watch flashing 5:20) again. He pulled his hand away and sat back in the chair as Patrick opened one eye. His heart was fluttering and he didn’t know why, he could barely believe how much time had vanished with the silence. He’d gotten so caught up he’d almost forgotten Patrick could come back.

“Pete” Patrick’s voice was heavy with hazy confusion “Why are you up?”

“Witching hour?” Pete offered quietly. Patrick’s eyebrows, that Pete had been studying so fastidiously moments ago, knitted together.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

“It’s just another 5:30 Trick, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t sleep, you know that” Pete brushed off his comment looking down at the carpet. He couldn’t blame Patrick for his concern.

“Yeah but sometimes there are reasons” Patrick spoke through a yawn “Sometimes it’s your ex-girlfriends, sometimes it’s the fans, sometimes its your paranoia or your privacy, could have been any of those. Are you sure it’s nothing?”

Even laced with sleep he was glad he was hearing Patrick’s voice, he was even gladder it wasn’t ‘pissed spitting chips you just woke me up in the middle of the night for no reason’ Patrick.

“Yeah it’s nothing” Pete replied with a smile. He looked back and Patrick was now the one watching him absorbedly. Pete wondered if he was worrying.

“Truth is if I close my eyes now nothing will happen. There will just be darkness” Pete explained “but sometimes watching you sleep is almost like really being there”

Patrick rolled his eyes and turned over so Pete was watching the back of his neck.

“Do me a favour” his muffled voice came from though the pillow.

“What?” Pete asked.

“Get into bed” Patrick replied with a firm tone.

“My beds cold. The chairs warm” Pete refused and he begun to make lists of things to think about for the next few hours, some of his best ideas where concocted in the dead of night. A sigh issued and Patrick turned over then held up one side of the blankets. Pete stared at this action at length. Eventually he moved forward and took hold of the blankets, Patrick slid over making room in the large bed. Pete stared at the creased warm sheets that looked surprisingly inviting.

“Letting the heat out” Patrick warned sleepily. Pete lay down in the spot Patrick had left pulling the blankets back up. Pete couldn’t deny the comfortable feeling enveloping him. He turned onto his side meeting Patrick’s eyes. They shared the gaze for a time while Pete fiddled with the corner of his pillow absentmindedly.

“…you know trick…” Pete began hesitantly but Patrick’s heavy eyes slid shut and he shook his head.

“Close your eyes” Patrick sighed soothingly “It’s too late for me and you no matter what you say. If you can’t sleep then rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Listen to your breathing and…just…relax” Pete nodded in agreement.

“Night” he whispered voice husky.

“Night” Patrick replied drowsily.

Pete did as he was told till Patrick was sleeping again. In the dark he heard his heart beat and at some point Patrick’s arm came to rest against his but from then on all he was aware of was Patrick’s soft breathing and the quiet that preceded morn.

writers streak!

2009-09-29T14:20:30Z

Omg I just had a writers streak! I wrote 3 maybe more pages all at once and they where good! XD or at least not shit this is awesome! If I didn't have to go to school tomorrow I would hav kept writing till I couldn't stay awake. I was writing montoeville ch 4 and man is it going to be good! You find out why ray is quiet and things get rolling, I hopebi can write like this tomorrow

Monroeville Chapter 3: The Enemy Of My Enemy

2009-09-29T12:11:15Z

Monroeville Chapter 3: The Enemy Of My Enemy

2009-09-29T12:04:54Z

Title: Monroeville Ch3: The Enemy Of My enemy
Author: seraph05
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Gerard/Frank
Warnings: Swearing, angst, boylove
Disclaimer: The people in this fic are as real as Vin Diesels acting (kissing scenes in particular).
Summary: “Hey Emo. Lunch is in half an hour. Don’t be here when the bell rings or I’ll fuck you up” Gerard warned.

“I’ll see you when the bell rings then asshole” Frank swore back.

Ch 1: http://seraph05.livejournal.com/29670.html

Ch 2: http://seraph05.livejournal.com/30143.html#cutid1

A/N: Yeah it's been aaaaaaaaaages and i'm sorry about that, i lost my mojo. Whenever i felt like writing i did a little bit and so about 6 months later here we are XD Dont know if you all even remember me (Leader Of The Candy Pack, Of Vampires And Rockstars?). Well anyway we last left off with Gerard telling Bob that Ray was 'The Quiet'. And this chap will be Frankie centric, i'm not sure how long it will take me to write another chapter or if i will write it at all, but if anyone is still interested i'll give it a try. Anyway thanks for reading after all this time.

Chapter 3:
The Enemy of My Enemy

Frank Iero lay in the soft sea of grass that separated the castle-like school from its walls and gate, eyes searching skywards. The black and white trimmings of his school blazer cut through the green around him separating him from it. He wasn’t adverse to nature. He actually liked it; trees couldn’t ask you rhetorical questions, skies couldn’t pick out the pallor of your skin or the height of your body. The black halo was to keep the passer-by’s passing by. The un-natural carmine hue that careened around his eyelashes was another barrier from the outside world. It made him different, it kept him different even if the teachers made him scrub it off nearly every day. His last defence lay undone in this moment of calm, ebony locks hung curled by his pierced ears waiting to spring back and cover Franks face the second he sat up. He could hear the occasional murmur about him that trailed behind student’s footsteps as they walked. He didn’t even blink irises completely focused on the clouds the wind carved into shapes thousands of miles above the ground.

Frank Iero had rituals to unwind and maintain his tenuous grip on sanity. Every Tuesday he would read in the courtyard separating east wing and west wing. Wednesday was the day to play Nintendo DS quietly in his bunk, curtains drawn. Every Thursday he would lie in the grass and decide what shapes where appearing in the fluffy white above weather be damned. Frank had once been suspended for lying out in the field while a storm ripped the sky apart above his head and lighting struck the ground in the near distance. Rain drummed a heavy rhythm into his skin and all he could do was smile. Of course no one saw it. Frank was pretty sure no one knew he was capable of something as preposterous as smiles or grins. As far as they where concerned he was an ‘Emo’ and that was all there was to it. Frank had gotten tired of fighting the stereotype so long ago he couldn’t remember the last time he smiled. He stayed away from everyone and generally everyone stayed away from him. He talked to the cafeteria ladies, teachers and staff so they couldn’t understand why the kids wouldn’t have a bar of him. The truth was he wouldn’t have a bar of them.

The only other kid he knew of at school that talked to less people was Ray and even then he had The Addict as a best friend. Frank didn’t have any friends. He wasn’t one to sit around and cry about it or write blogs on how bad it felt to be the only friendless kid in a school of hundreds miles and miles away from civilisation. He silently heard the gossip of the school; he wafted from class to class like a little black ghost. Frank sighed sitting up and pulled his jacket on. He eyed the stone entrance to the school a little over 20 meters away to see if anyone was watching him. Today there was none. Occasionally there’d be kids waiting to taunt him or throw food but today he was blissfully alone. He stood and began making his way back when suddenly he froze. Standing in the shadow of a tree near the school’s entrance was a boy. The boy was taller than him with longer hair and Frank could not recognise his face. His mind cast back to the day about a month ago when two new boys had arrived. He realized this must be one of them and aimed a soft glare in his direction, as he grew closer to the entrance. When he was within arms length he dropped the glare and walked right past. He’d just made it through the entrance when a voice followed him.

“My name’s Gerard” the voice was not what he’d expected; it held no tough or nasty edge. It wasn’t friendly but it wasn’t sharp either and Frank paused “What’s yours?”

He didn’t turn around. He’d heard a lot about one Gerard Way over the last few weeks. He’d roughed up a few kids and didn’t discriminate between social groups either jocks, bullies and the punks had all had one of theirs run into a fight with him. Frank didn’t feel like adding the Emos to the list and kept walking.

“Guess I’ll just have to think up some names for you then, kid” Gerard called louder than before and Frank flinched with gritted teeth.

“Join the club, they might as well have goddamn tee-shirts” Frank muttered angry and jaded.

* * *

Frank had come to discover many things about this school in the four years that he’d been here. He’d discovered, for example, the square stone courtyard separating the east wing and the west wing of the school was a perfect place for many fun activities. If the teachers weren’t prowling it was a great place for quick game of down ball or catch. It was ideal to bask in the sun during the summer either in the shade of the single tree that resided there or on the small grassy section to the right of the yard. His most recent personal preference in activity there had been reading. The thick ivy that moved like bottle green waves across the high walls and dripped to the ground letting only the windows show through set a strange kind of atmosphere that seemed to let him draw further into his books than anywhere else. His spare periods over the last few weeks had been spent there in solitude offering Frank some form of peace. There was nothing Frank really liked more than being alone, which is why when the new school creep breezed into the yard, disturbing his seclusion with an expression of annoyance plastered on his face Frank knew his peace was about to be shattered.

“So Emo, is this where you hide?” Gerard said coldly leaning against the far wall and wasting no time in beginning an altercation. Frank attempted to continue reading and ignore him “Thought you’d be off crying somewhere or listening to muse”

“Not all of us cry, some of us just prefer to slit our wrists” Frank said without looking up sarcasm nearly undetectable though his last sentence came out a little more bitterly than he’d intended “To kill the pain of this misanthropic world filled with bastards like you” Gerard snickered and Frank let his eyes flick up.

“Are we worth wasting that much of your miserable time and effort on?” Gerard asked, “Get a life” Frank scoffed and looked back down to his book.

“What are you reading?” Gerard asked.

“You don’t give a fuck and I get the feeling that you aren’t the type to appreciate lit anyway so why don’t you just fuck off,” Frank snapped.

“You didn’t answer my question” Gerard pressed. Frank groaned internally feeling the pointlessness of conversation with Gerard grow greater in him.

“Emo, I asked you what you where reading” Frank thought maybe he’d be able to shut him up by disregarding him but it seemed as though Gerard had come specifically for him today. He heard Gerard’s footsteps across the courtyard stones but did not look up. The printed words where whipped away from him and Frank leapt off the bench as Gerard held the book by the top of it’s spine and inspected it. He walked backwards eyes not leaving the book, Frank following close behind.

“Heart of Darkness?” Gerard said as though it where something disgusting holding it out of Franks reach.

“Give it back it’s not mine” Frank snarled.

“I know it’s the library’s” Gerard sneered mirthfully at the sight of the tell tale stamp on the cover, dodging as Frank snatched at it “If you bring it back in pieces there’ll be the fine, the mistrust, the mark on your record…of course you could always tell them you decided to take you’re hate of a hateful society out on this book instead of yourself. They might forgive you then”

“You’re such a fuckwit! Give it back!” Frank shouted and Gerard held it out of his reach “How old are you?! This might have worked in primary school but it’s year 10 now Way” Frank prepared himself to give Gerard a slug in the stomach when Gerard spoke up again.

“This is heavy stuff for an Emo, though I suppose the themes of the darkness of the soul and barbaric jungle juxtaposed by the light of morals and civilisation which by the end have been brought into question would be the kind of light material you’d enjoy” Gerard pondered out loud.

“You’re twisted you know that? Don’t give me shit for reading it when you’ve read it”

“I hadn’t gotten around to giving you shit for reading it, I meant that it’s stupidly tragic for reading in the courtyard, haven’t you heard of comics. I was forced to read Heart Of Darkness” Gerard continued dropping it. Franks hands shot out and caught it “It was part of the curriculum at my last school” Frank glowered up into Gerard’s face.

“I don’t care” Frank snarled and returned to his bench. Frank could feel Gerard’s eyes on him for quite a while after he spoke.

“Hey Emo. Lunch is in half an hour. Don’t be here when the bell rings or I’ll fuck you up” Gerard warned.

“I’ll see you when the bell rings then asshole” Frank swore back but Gerard’s expression was not the anger or even arrogance he’d expected. His expression melted into a blasé if not slightly melancholic gaze and he turned away. Frank watched him till he was out of sight. He tried to continue reading thumb beating on his knee but it was useless. He no longer felt like it. Frank stood once more collecting his things and made his way towards his dorms certain that Gerard would give him shit next time he saw him for not sticking around He wondered vaguely what Gerard had wanted to achieve from their discussion. Gerard hadn’t taken anything; he hadn’t injured him and as far as Frank could see Gerard hadn’t gained anything.

“Stupid” Frank mumbled.

* * *

“Hey Mikey boy what’s up kid? What do you know and how do you know it?” Mikey sat down across from Bob staring around the room.

“I know it’s lunchtime on Friday because everyone’s freaking out as usual but what I still don’t know is why” Mikey said watching the madness which included heightened levels of pushing, shoving and food fights breaking out all around them.

“Ahhh the tadpole still doesn’t understand the way of the weekend and it’s been what? Two months now” Bob said turning to Ray who gave him a nod of agreement.

“Yeah I do know what they’re about, they’re about having full access to the games rooms, sports equipment and free range over the school” Mikey said with a proud grin.

“Oh! So innocent, so young. Reminds me of you when you first got here except, perhaps on a subliminal level, even you knew about what frivolities went down when the teachers tune down the teaching” Bob said to Ray. Mikey frowned.

“Ok Bob. What goes down on the weekend?” Mikey caved and asked the question.

“Many things go down on the weekend” Bob said waggling one of his eyebrows suggestively “Ray once told me that the games room with all it’s shiny new games, the sports equipment and even the free range was all a ruse. A weak attempt at keeping strapping young lads like us out of the woods and away from parties, girls and most importantly booze” Mikey processed the information for a few minutes before

“Ray told you that?” Mikey asked.

“Every word” Bob replied.

“How” Mikey asked disbelievingly. Bob put on an overly dramatic emotional face and clutched Ray’s shoulder before whispering.

“He told me with his eyes”

Mikey giggled at his reply while Ray roughly shrugged Bobs hand off his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

“I am not an idiot” Bob commented on Rays eye roll.

Mikey’s focus slowly transitioned between Bob arguing with Ray to Gerard at the far side of the hall in line at the canteen. He’d only just noticed his brother picking out his food and putting it on his tray when a boy began running at the back of the line. Mikey stood just before the boy, who Mikey quickly recognised as Bert, hit the back of the line. The shout for Gerard to watch out didn’t make it out of his mouth in time. The boy at the back of the line was practically demolished by Bert as he slammed into the person in front of him. Mikey could see Bert laughing as the kid in front of him got hit as well. By now everyone in the hall was watching preparing to shout and cheer at the chaos. Like the final domino in a line the boy behind Gerard fell into him shoulder first and the contents of Gerard’s lunch sprawled across the floor in front of him. His apple bruised as it bounced off the floor, sandwich squashed as he staggered forward and his chocolate milk exploded in a brown splatter. Mikey went cold as many bodies rose out of their seats to get a better view blocking Mikey’s in the process and punching the air with their firsts. Gerard watched his strewn lunch through hair dripping with milk while behind him boys groaned on the floor. A single twisted laugh cackled through the air. Gerard threw his tray down and turned eyeing off Bert who was lying on the ground laughing at the mess he’d created. The cheers for Bert doubled when Gerard fisted Bert’s lapels, dragged off the ground and slammed him into the wall.

“You think you’re so god damn funny mother fucker” Gerard snarled out in a torrent of furious words while Bert’s snickering could still be heard “DON’T YOU?!”

“Yeah g-man I do and so do the boys, can’t you hear” Bert said laughter in his voice as he gestured to the audience behind them who replied with hoots and yells.

“Well guess what slimy fuck” Gerard said slapping his face and pressing it against the wall so he was watching the line of boys still picking themselves up “They don’t. They don’t think you’re one goddamn bit funny. Neither do I. Seems to me like you don’t have one mother fucking brain cell to rub together with another” for the first time Bert struggled and Gerard slammed him back “Be an asshole to your own friends in your own time, once again o’ corse only if you have some”

The only teacher on duty finally managed to make it to the canteen from the other side of the room.

“Hey break it up! Let him go!” he shouted as he drew near. Gerard’s griped loosened off and Bert slipped out sneering right in his face. He leaned in till their noses where almost touching Gerard not budging an inch.

“See you round Gee” he whispered before delivering a quick hard head butt. Gerard snarled pressing a hand to his sore forehead. Before Bert could get out of range Gerard shot his foot out tripping Bert and sending him crashing to the ground. Laughter roared around and Bert glared back over his shoulder. Before Gerard could move to attack again a hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled him out of the way.

“I said stop!” the teacher snarled at Gerard before turning to Bert who was already getting to his feet to walk away “The principal will be hearing about this Bert”

“Whatever Dan” Bert drawled walking backwards and flipping him off with both hands. The teacher only watched him for a second before turning back to Gerard.

“I don’t care how new you are, this is not proper behaviour at school. Bert will be punished for what he’s done as will you. You started up a fight for no reason…” Gerard quickly tuned out to the well worn speech as Bert seemed to take a huge turn from his walk towards the exit and was now heading for a kid sitting alone at the end of the last table. He squinted recognising it as the emo kid he’d been bothering and for a moment he could see something like a smile on his face while his head remained quite lowered. He might have been laughing. Gerard realized the kid had enjoyed Bert’s humiliation. For the first time ‘the Emo’ had smiled and he’d smiled for Gerard. In turn this made Gerard smile almost like the kids smile was his own. Suddenly Bert’s hand shot out grabbing the kid by the shoulder and shoved him viciously off his seat. Gerard watched the boys body collide with the hard floor unprepared and unbraced. He cried out and Gerard swore pelting away from the teacher who was mid way through his riot act. Gerard flew down the hall throwing himself into Bert and barrelling him over.

“You fuckers just don’t learn” Gerard seethed before his fist sunk into Bert’s stomach and cheekbone. Bert cracked his knuckles across Gerard’s jaw but before fight really begun in the teacher once again pulled Gerard off Bert though this time he just shoved Gerard away. He pulled Bert to his feet.

“I’ll be back for you, don’t move” The teacher snapped at Gerard before he began to escort Bert away. Gerard waited till he was gone before glaring down at the kid. He stared right back expression neutral. Gerard could feel liquid leaking down his lip and could taste copper in his mouth. He wiped his face with his sleeve. Amongst the cheers and boos Gerard could hear the kids next words clearly.

“Thanks” he mumbled out with an air of annoyance. Gerard’s glare sharpened. He turned on his heel and walked away.

“Gerard are you ok?!” Mikey ran up to him with Bob close behind.

“Dude you did it! like you full on did it man, no-ones ever taken Bert out man I mean sure he’s fought a hell of a lot but you my man Gee, you are the main item. It was so sweet when you slammed him against that wall, I just couldn’t BELIVE it when you tackled him after the teacher had already grabbed you, what did you say to him man break it down for me!” Bob blurted excitably while beside him Mikey continued to hold his look of concern.

“You’re bleeding” Mikey said looking back to the end of the table where the kid Bert had just assaulted was just getting up.

“I know” Gerard snapped and Mikey’s arm shot out in front of Bob.

“Hey what gives he hasn’t told us yet?! Hey Gerard!” Bob called trying to push past Mikey.

“Fuck off!” Gerard spat as he slipped through a door into the east wing hallways.

“Yeah well fuck you too!” Bob swore back.

“Come on we’d better go back to Ray” Mikey said watching his brother disappear knowing all to well the bitter disappointment Gerard was feeling “He’s not going to talk to us for a while”

“What’s the guy’s fucking problem Mikey I mean it’s not like we were bashing the parade drums for Bert” Bob spat as they made their way back to Ray. Mikey noted with some surprise that Ray was not looking in Gerard’s direction but in the direction of the kid who’d been pulled off his seat.

“No…Gerard and me have been through many schools. This place…” Mikey sighed gesturing to the hall and by extension, the school “was our last hope. Gerard got into a lot of fights in our old schools, most of those fights ended with Gerard being punished for defending himself. It’s really gotten to him. So being told off…especially by halfwit teachers….it’s just best to leave him alone, he’ll come back when he’s chilled out”

“Boy has a problem with authoritarian figures eh?” Bob sulked clonking his feet onto the long table and reclining “Fine with me”

Mikey hid a smile.

“Thanks Bob”

“Shut up”

* * *

The door of the second floor bathroom slammed open and the only kid inside jumped and looked over his shoulder. Gerard seethed as he stormed into the room blood dripping from his mouth, scaring the kid half to death.

“Get the fuck out!” He roared and in a second the boy was gone, door closing behind him. Gerard turned on the nearest cubical and drove his foot into its study wooden surface not even making a mark. He raged against it punching it and kicking it as he snarled loudly. His shouts and swearing grew louder till he could be heard in the hall outside. His energy lasted for long minutes before the moments between punches widened, the swearing was replaced by heavy breathing and his fierce venting ended. Eventually his anger began to ebb and with a sob he backed away from the cubical and pulled a raw hand over his mouth. He gritted his teeth against the waves of fury, frustration and pain that crashed against each other in his chest now able to resist them.

He took a few deep slow breaths. He pulled a sleeve across his wet lashes drying them and walked over to the sink. Gerard’s knuckles cried in pain as they turned the tap then he leaned down and took a mouthful of water. He spat it out and began the calming ritual he’d grown accustomed to. He checked his teeth (mercifully fine, just a cut inside his cheek and a bruise on his jaw). He ran the water over his throbbing knuckles till the stinging lessened and took a long deep breath. Finally he splashed water into his hair rinsing the milk out. He cradled his finger through his dark wet locks sweeping them up and away from his face. He stared into the composed reflection of his eyes.

* * *
Frank knew for sure there where kids running through the halls outside his dorm room. Not the clacking of school shoes on the concrete in the day but the quick pads of bare feet or socks in the night. He turned over groaning at the dull ache in his back. Despite his heightened ability to deal with pain, his hidden tattoos a testament to that, the sore on his back from when he hit the floor was just enough to annoy him into remaining awake. What made the situation worse was that he didn’t feel settled. Gerard’s angry face glaring down at him from over head played back in his mind contradicting everything he’d done for Frank. Frank turned over onto his other side trying to rid himself of the thought but he couldn’t. The creep was on his mind. Frank tossed off the blankets and threw on his light dressing gown with a huff. He figured maybe if he could get the no doubt 7th graders to go back to their dorms and stop running around he might just be able to get enough peace to fall asleep.

“Fucking kids…think it’s so cool to sneak around castles at night…they better just fucking wait….i’ll scare the hell out of them” he grumbled quietly to himself as he snuck over to his dorm door and began pulling it open softly “They won’t ever want to leave their beds at night ag-”

Before the words could leave Franks mouth he was snatched out from behind his dorm room door and tossed over a large shoulder. He gasped as whoever was holding him pelted down the hall way leaving Franks dorm far behind. He fought the urge to shout as his kidnapper raced around a corner. He didn’t struggle much, beyond hissing abuse, for fear of being dropped to the hard floors at such a pace. Blurs of classrooms flew by his eyes as his vision bumped and rattled with every step. He wasn’t even sure where he was going and soon lost his bearings. It wasn’t till he reached the shore of grey colour above him and the dull broke into dark blue waves and stars of the night sky that he knew he was outside. This was also when he began to panic and the truth of the situation hit him hard. He had been stolen from his dorm, dragged out into the night and as far as he could tell was heading for the shrubs in the far fields. Terror followed his flow of thoughts quickly. He began to struggle while Bert and his long cackle echoed through his mind.

“Who the hell are you what the fuck is going on?!?! Put me down bitch! Put me down! Put me down! I said PUT-ME-” and then Frank was falling to the sound of an excited voice. He hit the grass with a thud right as the sentence finished.

“So do you have the witness?”

“Guys is this necessary?”

“Oh what?! You bought The Emo?! Whyyyyyyy I said bring a witness not the one man parade of black”

Frank looked up from his dirty landing spot and spat grass at his kidnappers.

“Bob” Frank snapped recognising his surroundings as the schools boundaries.

“huh...the emo knows my name” Bob replied in a sarcastic tone.

“Find someone else for whatever stupid shit you’re up to” Frank snarled incensed as he turned around preparing for the long walk back. However standing directly behind him was Ray who was, whilst glaring at Bob, blocking his path back to the school and his dorm. He put a hand on Franks shoulder, glare still on Bob, and turned him back around. A few moments of intense glares were shared between the boys before Bob spoke.

“Fine. Sorry Frank” Bob said stiffly.

“Whatever” Frank growled “What am I doing here”

“Tonight will be Mikey’s christening” Bob said tilting his head in the direction of the boy to his right. Frank hadn’t noticed him amongst all the commotion. He looked around for some sort of ceremonial equipment but saw nothing but the school walls.

“Am I missing something?”

“A christening of his school life here. You see the boy has never broken the boundaries and escaped this jailbait…sorry bird life for a glorious night on the town” Bob explained tossing an arm over Mikey’s shoulder.

“They made me” Mikey added while Ray vigorously nodded.

“An escapee virgin” the understanding dawned on Frank.

“Yes it’s true, his proverbial cherry hasn’t been popped but we’ll soon see about that. Bert’s dorm is being watched carefully so we have the use of his car. We wanted Gerard to come but he’s sulking somewhere and we can’t find him” Bob continued.

“Oh you’re Mikey” Frank said turning and holding out his hand “Gerard’s brother”

“Yeah” Mikey replied with a cheery shake “The Brother”

“Alright ladies that’s enough. Lets blow this scene” Bob howled yanking bush branches back to reveal a hole in the high walls.

Frank stared at the hole and threw a glance back at the school. Frank wasn’t a big fan of Bob and didn’t know Mikey or Ray outside of reputation. All he knew was Ray didn’t speak and Mikey was Gerard’s brother. For Frank they seemed hardly good candidates for a Friday night escape.
The addict and the brother where soon through the hole and he looked to Ray. From underneath his mane of curly hair Frank could swear he saw an assuring wink as if Ray was saying everything would be ok.

“You’re not so quiet” Frank said kindly and Ray rolled his eyes shoving Frank through the hole and following after.

* * *

Frank enjoyed watching Mikey that night. It was like watching a good movie that you’d already seen with someone who hadn’t yet seen it. The surprise on his face as they snuck into a bar and found so many of their school mates already there was priceless. Watching his face crinkle at the first drink he tasted. Frank took a photo with his mobile of the unicorn Mikey scribbled on a street with chalk Bob had ‘borrowed’ from the bar. He sat back while his fellow escapees threw popcorn at the movies and danced because at that time of night they where the only ones there. They narrowly missed a brawl on the street and only escaped due to Bobs fast talking and Rays formidable size. Bob worked in the fact that Rays silence was due to the fact that every time he killed a man he swore he wouldn’t speak for a month and as it stood he had months ahead before he could open his mouth. Frank was very glad the men in the brawl where so heinously drunk as they trundled off asking ‘Killer Ray’ for forgiveness. They seemed an unlikely crew, the four of them but Frank couldn’t remember the last time he had such a great night. He barely smiled and no-one noticed when he did but this too was a precious moment. Eventually, with dawn fast approaching and Mikey leading the way, they returned to Bert’s car.

“That was so much fun!” Mikey exclaimed lying down across the back seat.

“Oh no, no, no sleeping beauty, rule 1 of escapee’s code of conduct – you always return before dawn. Number 2 is never rat your escapees out if caught. Number 3 is never bring chicky-babes back to the dorms, somehow and don’t ask me how, but somehow those security guard bastards know if a girl is hiding. There are more but I won’t go into it now cause you’re falling asleep as it is. Yo MIKEY” Bob shouted and Mikey snorted awake “Sit up”

Ray lifted Mikey into a sitting position before taking the seat next to him. Frank plonked into the front seat and they shut the doors. Then they sat there.

“Um Bob” Mikey pipped up once 5 mins had passed on the car’s clock “What are we waiting for?”

“Bert’s a fuck” Bob said seriously. Frank eyed him carefully as Bobs expression held the more serious tones then he’d ever seen on the addicts face. Frank knew Bob’s relationship with Bert had always been for business only. Bob used Bert’s car, Bert got %40 per cent of the profits. It was a well known fact throughout school that without Bert’s car there was no booze or ‘illegal’ goods and without Bob there was none either. They needed both to function.

“I’m tired of playing the assholes game. So I suppose this was it. The last night here. Bert’s done a lot of shitty things and for ages I ignored it cause it wasn’t like I was helping him but….i’m done giving him money” Bob sighed glumly. Ray shook his shoulder proudly.

“Sounds like a good idea to me” Mikey said encouragingly.

“Yeah” Frank added with a nod. Bob turned the keys and soon enough the car was pulling out of the car park and heading back to the main road.

“The enemy of my enemy” Frank mused after half an hour had passed.

“What did you say Frank?” Bob asked. Frank’s mouth twitched with a grin though all but Ray missed it.

“Friends?” Frank offered Bob, who eyed him suspiciously.

“Whatever” Bob responded gaze flicking back to the road.

“Being that he is now an enemy to all of us….what shall we do to this car?” Frank asked slyly. Bob sniggered.

“You where right. It was a good choice of witness Ray”

* * *

Frank staggered hastily through the corridors, exhausted and begging for sleep. He’d decided that if he couldn’t be silent then he should at least be fast. The staff would be getting up soon to prepare the school for breakfast and the weekend mayhem coming their way. He always felt sorry for them and vowed that even if he failed at everything else in this world he would never get a job that began at 6 o clock in the morning. He rounded the final corner his heart nearly leaping out of his chest to see someone walking towards him and only a few feet away.

“The toilet was locked so I had to go to the far ones” Frank blurted before he recognized his captor.

“I don’t care” Franks eyes widened.

“Gerard” He exclaimed.

“Bingo” he muttered as he pushed past. Frank watched him walk away brows furrowed in confusion. The opportunity was there and while Frank was a lot of things a coward he wasn’t.

“Why?” he called out “Why did you go for Bert again?”

“Why not” Gerard shouted out without turning around “Say hi to muse for me” Gerard yelled as he finally disappeared out of Frank’s line of sight.

“FUCK YOU!” Frank roared, hand immediately clamping over his own mouth. He pelted to his dorm, now only a few steps away. Popped some mints into his mouth and jumped under his sheets pulling them up over his head. If a teacher did come to see where the shouting had come from Frank wanted to be as innocent looking, and smelling, as possible. He waited, muscles slightly tense. He wasn’t sure how long it was before he stopped listening, heavy lids sliding closed and frown softening to nothing.

Tonight

2009-08-10T13:59:21Z

It's nights like these
that want to make me
run myself into the ground.

Nights where i resist
every step to bed
like i'm leaning backwards
but my legs keep
dragging foreward.

I lie in bed forcing myself
to stay awake just cause i want to.
Not cause i'm not tired,
not cause i don't need the sleep
or won't hate myself for it tomorrow
morning but because i'm restless,
cause somethings bothering me.

I just have to stay awake to kill
off the tesion till there's no more
left. Till i'm too tired to be restless
and then.
it's gone.

Argument in my head.

2009-07-26T13:45:02Z

*this is what my brain sounds like. aren't you glad no-one but you can hear your thoughts*

ok i'm going to do it, i'll post it to pete andy and joes

Ok got the link....but what if andy remembers i'm the same chic that did him and rorschach.....are they going to think i'm a freak?

Of course they won't think you're a freak, they prob won't remember you from anywhere but the vid IF they see the vid at all

What if they see it and they like it

FANTASTIC

what if they like it so much they decide to check out my DA account and find my copeous amounts of peterick?

that would be fucked. they really would think i was a freak

no they wouldn't heaps of girls do that stuff

but i wouldn't be proud for them to know i did that stuff and they'll see how much of my art is inspired by or dedicated to them, they really will think i'm a freak, like an obsesed freak and in some ways i am but it's like a good kind of obsessed. a nice 'these boy's music apeals to my soul and just talks to me in a way no other music does, it's the sound of my generation and i love it' kind of obsessed

this is why i didn't want to try and get it to them cause i'm gonna freak out and then they're not even gonna see it and then i'll go through happiness, then relief then sadness cause they didn't get to see it and i put a lot of work into it

but you didn't make it for them you made if for you. you've wanted to make a vid for ages for heaps of different artists and musicians. this was just the perfect song that's all and you loved it and it was special.

freak

stop it

you stop it

you promised you would post it.

....i don't care this is dodgy, i know what's going to happen. they're not gonna see it and then i'm going to be disapointed and besides i was surfing youtube the other day and came across some other vids made by KIDS that where better, funnier, cleverer, awesomer.

so?

so they'll see it and they won't be impressed or interested so whatever the fuck i dont wanna post it.

just do it

no

yes

no

noooooo

yesssss

SIIIIIIIIGH

whyyyy

cause. you promised. and make another journal entry too so if they DO come here GOD FORBID they won't see this inane babbling

i'm nervous

of course you are. this is your baby. you're gonna post it and they're not gonna find it and you're gonna be shattered. on the bright side since they're not going to see it there's really no point in worrying about them thinking you are a freak and at the end of the day, aside from them dissing your work, them thinking you are a freak is the worst possible outcome.

ok i'll do it. maybe i'll delete this journal entry.

nah i'll put it on my LJ there's no way they'll find me there.

W.a.m.s Music Video

2009-07-20T15:17:09Z

Hey All,

I have made a music video for the interlude after w.a.m.s (on folie a deux). It's an amateur vid but if you could check it out and tell me what you think i'd really appreciate it. Oh and even though it's amateur it's got cool angles/ lighting/ editing and shit so it's worth having a glance at. Lots of work was put into it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AUksKgzsPas&feature=related

Michael Jackson

2009-06-26T15:12:53Z

There was a time and a place long ago I often romanticize because to me it was mostly wonderful. Music wasn’t a strong point for me and I just listened to what my parents listened to. Some of earliest memories of music being grease, kylie and largely Michael Jackson. I remember not believing my parents when they told me he was a man but I did love his music. I knew all the lyrics even though I didn’t know what they meant. I remember staring at the album cover of Dangerous; it had so much to look at, while singing away in the living room. Just a few days ago my mum and me where dancing to “The Way You Make Me Feel” while doing the dishes. My grandma was saying ‘at least he’s finally at peace’. I don’t know how to feel. Someone’s who’s work I respect so much and have such fond memories of, someone who has deeply influenced music, pop culture and so many aspects of our creative world is gone. It feels unreal. It feels unbelievable. It feels impossible. He’s always been there. Always. Yesterday a legend died, to call him a king is too limited. If our lives are all we have in this world, if this life and how we live it and what we remember is what makes up our human experience then the best we can do is remember. Never forget the man or the music.

seraph05 @ 2009-06-17T12:27:00

2009-06-17T02:27:45Z

I can't belive it. it's so unfair.

Becuse I Gotta Know

2009-04-20T08:22:29Z

Title: Because I Gotta Know
Author: seraph05
Rating: PG – 13. 1,067 words
Fandom: Fall Out Boy
Pairing: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Warnings: Boy kissing (yay) and seriously if you don’t ‘yay’ why are you here?
Disclaimer: I do not own, this never ever happened cause Patrick said they wouldn’t let him in to Pete’s wedding (though he may have been there during the creation of Bronx. Pete’s words. Not Mine).
Summary: Grooms usually have a few nervous moments with their best friends before getting married. Since when did Pete ever do anything to the norm anyway?

Patrick should have expected this. He knew he should have but somehow it still came as a surprise. Pete stood before him, brown eyes brimming with questioning and disappointment. Patrick decided Pete must have been fighting the urge to pout, as he was deep in the kick of ‘becoming more of a man and less of a boy’. This kick including going to the gym on a regular basis, buying less band t-shirts and more shirts and oh of course getting married to his beautiful girlfriend. His suit was pressed, his Alice In Wonderland themed reception was waiting for the newlywed’s arrival in a few hours time and less than 10 minutes before the wedding was to begin he popped the question. He was now dealing with the rejection.

“Because” Patrick said a firm and exasperated tone controlling his voice “You’re about to get married”

“So what? Gerard and Frank kissed and they’re both happily married now,” Pete argued. Patrick could see he wasn’t going to let this request slide.

“Absolutely not” Patrick stated straightening his jacket. Pete looked away for a second thinking hard then looked back face lit up.

“Well make it my wedding gift” Pete suggested.

“Aside from the fact that that is totally twisted, I already got you one” Patrick snapped in reply.

“No you didn’t” Pete frowned.

“Dude, I got you a rare 1981 pair of gold and white Supra’s. There was only 50 made” Patrick groaned thinking back to the price and what he’d gone through to get them. In short it involved a not-so-quick plane flight to Italy, hiring a translator and bartering them from a rich Italian art collector who had no idea who he was. Pete’s expression melted to a warm smile.

“See this is why I gotta know” he leaned foreword touching his hands to the side of Patrick’s cheeks. Patrick own arms flew up pushing Pete’s chest away so he moved back to where he was.

“No, it’s gross!” Patrick retorted, getting more annoyed by the second and Pete groaned.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal now you never complained when I kissed you on the neck and cheek before” he said tone beginning to match Patrick’s.

“Well I could hardly just stop in the middle of a concert, mid-song and go ‘um excuse me Pete would you mind not making out with my neck, I’m kinda busy right now’” Patrick replied with the logic he’d always used when this argument had come up in his mind before. It was the perfect excuse for why he never did anything about Pete kissing him and if it worked in his head it might work on Pete.

“It’s Ash isn’t it?” Pete asked ignoring the statement Patrick had pinned his hopes on.

“Yes it’s fucking Ashley, you’re about to be her husband!” Patrick nearly shouted but remembering they where standing a few rooms away from other guests the protest came out in a hiss.

“Yeah I know that. I love her and I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her but I love you too and that’s why I gotta-” Pete was cut off as Patrick leant forward and abruptly pecked Pete on the lips before leaning back again. Pete was momentarily stunned.

“What was that?” Pete asked of their brief physical touch.

“A kiss god damn it! Now will you drop it already!” Patrick snapped a light blush rising to his cheeks.

“That wasn’t a kiss! I get more play outta Hemmingway!” Pete exclaimed laugher in his voice.

“Yeah but your dog has an indecent amount of disrespect for personal space and I can guess who he learned that from!” Patrick shot back arms folding across his chest in disapproval. Pete rolled his eyes at Patrick and pulled out his mobile. After typing in some numbers he held the phone to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” Patrick asked apprehensively, though off the top of his head he couldn’t think of anyone that could change his mind.

“Yeah hi baby it’s me” Pete said cheerfully into the phone as Patrick’s cool facade crashed down around him. He signalled for Pete to hang up, flailing madly in Pete’s peripheral vision though for the first time since their conversation began Pete ignored him “I just called to ask if I could kiss Patrick…no not on the cheeks on the lips…no I asked him but wanted your permission…mmmm” Pete threw a glance over at Patrick as if trying to decide on something “Well we’ll start there and see how things go after that. Yep. Yep. I won’t be late. See you in 5” Pete hung up and turned back to Patrick.

“She says it’s fine as long as I keep it above the waist and under 30 seconds so come here already” Pete demanded holding his arms out, beckoning Patrick to come closer. Patrick slowly shook his head and remained where he stood. After a few moments Pete’s hands dropped a little and then lowered to his waist. Pete’s eyes fell from Patrick’s to the floor. They where both quiet.

“Ok” he sighed “…ok” he turned away and walked out the door of the room closing it softly behind him. Patrick blinked unclenching fists he hadn’t even realized he’d been squeezing. Pain bubbled up in his chest as he watched the door as listened to the absence Pete had created. Patrick had been offered his last chance and he’d let it, no forced it, out the door. He suddenly felt very alone.

The sound of the door slamming on the wall as it flew open only just reached Patrick’s attention before a weight fell into his body. Arms wrapped one around his lower back, one around his shoulders and lips consumed his own. Between heady breaths breaking up the torrent of kisses Patrick closed his eyes and returned the motions hands meeting behind Pete’s back to hold him up and lips tasting Pete properly for the first time. Patrick couldn’t help a tiny moan before the contact finally broke and Pete slid down to the ground grinning from ear to ear.

“What?” Patrick asked hands withdrawing from Pete’s back.

“I knew you loved me too” Pete replied and then bolted back out of the room, an echo reaching Patrick from the hall “Can’t be late!”

Patrick sighed realizing things would always be this way.

A/N: I wrote this on my ipod ages ago in the format of a script and always liked it even though it was only the bones of a fic. Tonight I wanted to write some Peterick but didn’t want to start anything big so I decided to type this up. Hope you like it; it’s just a bit of non-sense really.

Peterick Music Video

2009-04-13T10:27:59Z

So i bitched about it for a very long time 'GOD IT'S NOT THAT HARD! THE FERARD FANGIRLS DID IT AND WE HAVE PLENTY ENOUGH FOOTAGE TO PULL IT OFF EASY! WHY OH WHY WON'T SOMEONE MAKE A GOOD PETERICK FANVID" and when nothing happened after said long and hard bitching i went 'right, that's it!'. I took my recently acquired film editing skills (thank you bachelor of screen) and made the peterick video i felt peterick fangirls always deserved. here it is - http://www.vimeo.com/3972154

i won't forget.

2009-04-08T15:02:48Z

I was sitting here on a desk chair throne of pain and guilt and i remembered her all alone. Her picture smiled out at me and all alone i remembered and at the same time i couldn't believe. I knew her. I didn't know her well but i knew her enough to remember how she talked, how she walked and how she was such a smart sweet young girl. I kept going over those moments in rapid succession. Had she ever mentioned...had she ever asked for help....had she ever seemed down...i mustive been able to do something...why didn't i do somthing. far too late these questions attacked me and the answers where no anyway.

I didn't want to record that moment before becuase i was guilty. i'd been told about her nearly a year before when it happened and i'd casually thought of it as sad but couldn't put a face to the name. i couldn't remember her. It wasn't till i saw her smile that it came back and it'll never go away again. I'll know her for the rest of my life.