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 Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2006 8:13 am
'cause i love all the poison away with the boys in the band Update: Jan. 11th.
HONEEEEEEEEEEY, I'M HOOOOOOOOOOOOME!!! mrgreen
The doctor is in, proceed with surgery as scheduled.
*snaps glove*
Update: Dec. 14th.
As much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I have to be. *sigh* Unfortunately, finals season has descended upon me, in addition to my play (woot woot - ferris, see you there!), so I've been kept really busy with all sorts of you-wouldn't-believe.
I have no choice but to put The Blind & The Patient on hiatus until the 20th. That's my last day of classes, and the earliest I would be able to post anything. Granted, there probably won't be posted anything until I get all my Christmas shopping done, but that's another can of worms. xp
See you all as soon as I can. Missing you, and missing writing. cry
When I get back, the chapters are gonna be so effin' brilliant, you won't know what hit you. And that's a promise. wink
heart , Thunder.Update: Nov. 18th.
rofl heart HI EVERYBODY! heart rofl
This is your friendly, neighborhood ThunderKat speaking, bringing you a very special announcement that "The Blind & The Patient" is now proudly being displayed at LiveJournal.com! (yay)
Here's the link - add me away! ThunderKat's username is "jauntyporkpie"
PS - Nothing that goes up there won't end up here, and vice versa, so it's not like you're going to miss something if you don't have an LJ account.
And so here's a formal "Thank you!" to everyone who reads,
to everyone who visits here to satisfy their needs.
For though I try to write of loss and agony galore,
it's all that you say that makes me write about the locker door.
So keep your eyes peeled, then, if you wil, because The End is near,
but not until after there have been twenty-odd chapters, my dears. wink Yes, that's a hint for whoever is clever, if you're really sharp as tacks,
I swear on the wheels of the gurney; I'm serious as a heart attack.I was really bored a few days ago, and listening to MCR, and I needed something to do, so I was looking through the (very) limited stuff that I dragged up to the dorm with me, and came across a notebook that I started a little while ago, so I decided to make it into a fanfic on here becasue it gives me something to do.
It's posted in my journal already, but since Ferris liked it so much, I decided to spread the lurve and post it here, too. So you can check it out right here, or in my journal. So here's the rest of the intro/explanation from the journal post...
Now for the creepy factor: I ocassionally have clairvoyant dreams (example: I dreamed earlier on in the summer that MCR would release their new album either on October 22nd or 26th - and didn't I have one helluva heart attack when I find out it's gonna be out on the 24th, EXACTLY in the middle of the two dates from my dream) I named this little piece of work "The Blind and The Patient" on August 13th, when I started it. Now, I swear to you, I didn't find out about the Black Parade's character "The Patient" until after I started this. And I wasn't referring to the noun form that means "a person who is under medical care or treatment" like MCR is, because obviously he's a person, a character in their rock opera. My "patient" referrs to the adjective form of the word meaning "quietly and steadily persevering or diligent, especially in detail or exactness". Same deal with "the Blind" - it's the adjective, not the noun. But enough of that...
Here's a little explanation of what this is:
Basically, what I'm planning to do is take Gerard and Mikey's characters from The Ghost Of You video, and go from there. I've made up a world based on a bunch of the MCR songs, so lyrics and things from videos or from the real lives of the bandmembers may make appearances. It's changed up a little, though. They aren't brothers in my story, but they kind of became that way through the army and... well, I don't wanna give too much away, especially since I have no idea how this is going to turn out myself.
I know I've forgotton to mention something...
hmmm....
uh...
Oh yeah, the Disclaimer:
This isn't going to be some silly little fangirl, steamy make-out session fanfic like so many are. This is completely opposite - even beyond opposite. There is a lot of gore, a lot of pain, a lot of bluntness (especially from the female character), all wrapped up in an underground makeshift medical facility much like one that could be found in the minds of Tim Burton or the guys in MCR themselves.
So anyway, in the next post is the first chapter.
Enjoy.
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Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2006 8:15 am
Chapter One.
He was brought in, much in the same way all the others were brought in. He was, however, slightly luckier than most - someone had managed to scrounge a tarpaulin. This meant that he did not arrive hauled in over a shoulder, or hanging between two slightly less-damaged boys, or carried into the facility in the most ungracious cross between "La Pieta" and a pile of wet laundry. No, he had the luck to be brought in on a tarpaulin. This meant he arrived head first at about knee-height, booted feet dragging on the damp concrete behind him. His severely bandaged head lolled from side to side almost involuntarily, as his makeshift stretcher swung between the men who were carrying him. Two hands, as pale as paper, swam up out of the darkness of his bloodstained greens toward the edges of the tarpaulin, suspended in midair in either agony or desperation. A few syllables stumbled incoherently from the bandages, and were lost. He was toted along several dank corridors full of boys in varying stages of decrepancy, all singing their part in the chorus of moans that filled the halls of the facility. They wrote their own requiem here - it was almost expected.
Although he could not hear them as he was rushed past, he had heard about the utter despondancy of places like these... how staying long enough drove men insane, how everyone said it was better taking your chances out on the field than have to be dragged down to a facility and treated. If he knew where he was, or what would happen to him over the next few months, he would have fought tooth-and-nail to get out while there was still a chance. But he did not know where he was until it was too late, nor did he possess the strength to remove himself from it, and this is probably the singular reason why the chain of events that follow were set in motion, and would eventually result in the finding of something quite beautiful: hope. This is the story of a man making peace with himself and the choices he made. And it begins the day he thought he was going to die.
The men who had brought him in stopped in a room that was quite silent. Almost all of the other boys that were brought in were dumped immediately inside the door, and then moved on down one of the halls as time went by. The stuffy silence of the room was broken by the clicking and scraping of shoes on the wet cement floor, and the few more syllables that had managed to find their muffled way out of the bandages. These, too, found the ceiling and were absorbed, never to be heard from again. He was put down, perhaps a little too firmly, on the floor. The edges of the tarpaulin were dropped with a wet slap, and he was hoisted up onto a cold metal counter.
His brain richoched off the insde of his skull, trying to register where he was, what he was doing there, why his face was burning, and whose hands were afixing his limbs down. There seemed to be millions of them - crawling all over him, cutting away at his uniform, strapping his feet down, putting something cold and wet on his arm. Only one thought made it, in completion and relatilvely intact, through his addled mind and out his mouth:
"He's... gone... gone!"
Whoever all these hands belonged to, didn't seem to notice. The bandages were ripped from his face. He screamed, or tried to, at least. It felt as if at least half of his face must have gone with the bandages; both blood and tears flooded his eyes. A light stared down at him. Some uncertain shapes registered, swirling around in the space between his blurry eyes and blurrier brain. A few times, he thought he could make out a distinctive shape, but every time he did, extra limbs would sprout out of it, or cloth was rubbed over his eyes, skewing his focus once again. His face was on fire. His breaths were coming in short gasps. He felt closer to death than he did out... there... where he watched him fall. A strange, wet hiccup erupted in the right side of his chest, and then came a sensation as close to drowning as one could be and still be firmly on dry land.
The hands very suddenly began moving in much more frantic patterns. His shirt was torn wide open and something punched him square in the chest. There was a sharp, lingering pain, and it registered that something was piercing his chest above where his lung had collapsed; a strange 'shoop-shoop' noise had replaced the drowing feeling and the short gaspy breaths. Several more needles made acquaintance with his skin, and he slipped into unconsciousness as something cold was splashed into his eys.
His was the most dignified enterance that day.
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Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2006 4:37 pm
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Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2006 5:39 pm
thanks, ferris. heart heart
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Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2006 6:51 pm
Absolutely incredible. Dude, it sounds professional. I can only wish mine was this well written.
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Posted: Tue Sep 12, 2006 7:31 pm
erm... if it weren't for the skeleton makeup, my face would be all redface redface redface
...thanks.
chapter two will be posted soon (i hope). homework has been relatively light thus far, considering it's college.
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Posted: Wed Sep 13, 2006 8:48 pm
Chapter Two. (Gerard = green dialogue Mikey = blue dialogue)
Tap tap tap tap tap.
An eye willed itself open. "Tu-fugggun-erlaaai..." The eye closed again.
Tap tap tap tap tap."Whaaa ya wan' ?" he said a little louder, voice making its croaky way into consciousness. The arms followed, prying himself from the pillow. Next were the legs, swinging from under the blankets and onto the cold wood floor. He sat there for a minute, an obscene moose call issuing from the black hole which, up until recently, he had identified as his mouth.
Tap tap tap tap tap."Arr'right, arr'right, I'm comin'..." He shuffled across the room to the door and yanked on it. He only got as far as the three inches of chain would let him open the door. Prying his eyes open, he gaped blankly out at the skinny boy standing in the hall opposte him. They blinked at each other for a full minute."Well? What do you want?" he said, changing the gears in his voicebox without the clutch. The skinny boy gave a start. Though he was less than happy about being woken up, it surprised him just how much harsher it came out than he had intended."Uh... I'm... is this... I need... could you... uh... is this room 707?" It took him a few tries, but the skinny boy managed to get his question out. As he did so, his bag slipped off his shoulder and practically dragged him down with it. It landed with a resounding thunk on the floor. The one behind the door winced slightly. He got out of bed for this?"What's the numbers on the door say?" he said and shut the door. The skinny boy swayed slightly. The big brass numbers on the door definitely said '707'. He didn't even need to push his glasses up to read them. They had slipped down his nose when his life had fallen off his shoulder. He looked around, slightly bewildered. There wasn't anyone else in the hallway - it was still pretty early. He raised his hand to knock once more, but recoiled it at the sound of the chain being undone on the other side of the door. Tentatively, he twisted the knob; the door opened. He pushed it in slowly, looking around the tiny dorm, not sure what to expect. The boy who had answered the door was sitting on the edge of his bed, apparantly having intense negotiations with his feet as to whether or not they were going to get back under the blankets. The skinny boy watched him, head tilted to the side quizically. A nagging at his shoulder reminded him that he was slowly being submerged into the wood by the weight of his bag.
He looked over at the other bed in the room. It was a bare mattress, bearing an unpleasant-colored stain. He set the bag down on the footlocker at the end of the bed and stood there, unsure of what to do. So he closed the door. It swung much faster than he had anticipated, and it shut with a loud crack before he could stop it. The negotiations with the twisted blankets ceased." I'm sorry...?" said the skinny boy, "I'm just going to... you know... unpack... and stuff. I'll-I'll be quiet; I know it's kinda... early."The dark-haired boy looked at him. I give up... I give up. Okay, ya pretty boy, I'm awake now. What the hell do you want? His thoughts ran along this course as he replanted his feet on the floor. He was awake now, which meant that the espresso IV kicked in somewhere in the back of his head, and his brain revved up to 1000 rpms. On a sudden whim, he decided to see how fast his new roommate would pick up on things. Despite the glasses and awkward stance usually reserved for the painfully intelligent, he didn't seem very bright."That isn't what you think it is, kid. It ain't piss. It's - Whatcher name?""It isn't? What?""I said, whatcher name, kid?""Oh. Michael.""Michael?! Mlechhh... We'll need to fix that. It's duck sauce, Michael. Mike. Mikey. Hmm, Mikey... yeah. You like it?""Duck sauce? Not really.""No, ya moron-""Mikey's fine. Actually, kids at my old school used to call me that. It's fine.""Nice to meet ya, Mikey. I'm Gerard. Guess I don't have to ask if you're new."Mikey's shoulders relaxed, and he breathed a little easier as he recovered from the initial shock of Gerard's rapidfire and nearly schizophrenic way of addressing him. As he spoke, he loosened up a little bit, although he wasn't sure if Gerard really liked him. He looked older, by a few years, but this wing housed only freshman, as far as he knew."No, I guess you don't. I just got in last night. Transfered from Heightstown.""And now you're here at good ol' Pencey Prep." Gerard said through a sideways smile.
Mikey looked up at the window - all of the windows he had passed in the building had leading near the top that spelled out "The Pennsfield Preparatory Academy" with the school crest. It was backwards, so that it could be read from the outside. He mused for a minute about whether it was intentional that it was repeated on every window- so that no one would forget the name of the school, perhaps?"Errr... yeah. Here I am. So... do they call you Gerry or something?""No." The smile dropped from Gerard's face. Mikey's eyes widened sligtly and he tensed up again. "No, they do not call me 'Gerry-or-something'. Not Gerry, not Gee, not Gee-Man, not any of that s**t. My name is Gerard. Ya got it?"Mikey nodded slightly. After another awkward moment or two, he began unpacking his school things. Duck sauce, my a**... he thought as he dropped a pile of blue and grey uniforms onto the mattress with particular distaste. He shot a glance over his shoulder at his new roommate, who was working furiously at something on the back of his neck, and not paying much attention to him. Mikey sighed. It was going to be a long year.
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Posted: Wed Sep 13, 2006 9:14 pm
*tackles fic*
I'm assuming this is a flashback, but if I'm wrong, please steer me in the right direction.
And Mikey and Gerard aren't brothers, right?
Definitely an interesting twist.
The Pency Prep reference made me smile.
I love it so far; keep writing and I'll keep on stalking.
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Posted: Wed Sep 13, 2006 9:23 pm
*ducks for cover* ninja
... is it safe now? blaugh
yea, it's a flashback/dream thingy. it's gonna happen a lot.
be a good stalker and get people to come read it & comment, kay-kay? good little stalkers always get treatsies. *ahem* anyway. yeah, i'll probably put up some of my bad manga to go along with the story.
re: Gerard & Mikey - read the first post.
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Posted: Wed Sep 13, 2006 9:31 pm
It's safe at the moment.
I figured. It's cool.
Ha, yes m'am! Huzzah for treatsies!
*runs off to spread the word in her siggy*
Manga? I love manga!
I actually have a craptastic manga going on in my journal
((which I should update but i never seem to have the time... sweatdrop )).
Ah, well, I think it's a very original way to go.
I really enjoy reading it.
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Posted: Wed Sep 13, 2006 11:11 pm
Awww, tankies! whee
Yay... *clapping stupidly because its 2:20 in the morning and she's piss-tired* I have to go figure out what your treat is going to be. Hmmm... not now. In the words of prep-school Gerard: Izztu-fugggun-erlaaai...
gonk <- yawn
But PS - I left you a comment in your journal.
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Posted: Thu Sep 14, 2006 1:35 pm
biggrin I LOVE IT <3
You're an amazing writer.
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P A R A N O i A PLUS Crew
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Posted: Thu Sep 14, 2006 2:55 pm
Fricking awesome. Are you going to school for something literary or is this just a side thing you like to do? I think I'd piss myself if you're even better at something else other than this.
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Posted: Thu Sep 14, 2006 5:56 pm
Guys, stop it, I'm gonna get a bloodrush. redface redface redface
Uhmmmm... well... filmmaking is my major, but I've been creatively writing for most of the last 6-8 years on the side. I don't really know what it is, I think it's like some kind of meditative subconscious thing, but when I sit down to write, I don't actually know what I'm doing. Hard to explain. Like I wasn't sitting at my desk writing chapter two... I was in their room with them... if that makes it any easier to explain. I don't know. I've never known how to explain it well... confused
I'm glad you like it so much! 3nodding blaugh
STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER THREE.
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Posted: Thu Sep 21, 2006 8:40 pm
I like i like, i LOVED the Pency Prep, it put a great big smile on my face
and your writting is very good.
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