Life Is The Barrel At The Tip of This Gun
Title: Life Is The Barrel At The Tip of This Gun
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Author: Ema.
Rating: PG-13 atm.
Summary: Me. I'm the boy you see at the back of the class getting straight As, Who is constantly carrying a book and art folder. Who takes those random photographs at Lunch. Who constantly writes and drinks coffee. I am the boy who suffered for you life.
Disclaimer: This was actually based on my own characters but i got bored and wanted to spice it up a little!
Author's Notes: I AM SO SORRY! It's been what, 3 months since I even logged into LJ! I am so sorry. Anyone miss me? I've just been so caught up with course work and exams, ugh one on monday D= I got an A in math! First A in math ever! Happy. Anyway, here's a new fic, tell what you think. I may update 'Maybe Blood Isn't Our Salvation' but I'm not sure. I love you all! - Emaleigh.
Frank.
People are naive, thoughtless. People do things out of boredom. Out of pure vegetation.
Have you been part of one of these thoughtless acts?
I have.
Have you suffered for it?
I have.
___
School. So young. Such a thoughtless time. The most important thing is what you and your girlfriend are going to do at the weekend. Your appearance is the most important thing. If you have one thing out of place, life as we know it is over. Your mobile. Your best friend. Type. Type Type. You leave no where, and I mean no where, without it. Your laptop. Constantly sat in front of it for hours refreshing your Myspace or Bebo, checking if you have new photo comments from any hot girls. Your whole life depends on what she thinks. By she I mean the it girl. If she doesn't find you cute, your life is over.
As for me, I never paid much attention to things like that. I didn't have a computer. I don't like them. I just write everything, draw tables, draw diagrams. If it's wrong, I re-write things. I like it old school.
I didn't wear tracksuits worth hundreds, I wore plain black jeans. Cheap but affective. I didn't wear designer polo shirts that looked hideous, I wore long sleeved shirts, black. I didn't gel my hair up to make me look 'hot'. I didn't work out every night. I wore eyeliner. I straightened my hair. I didn't wear big watches that had no way of fitting your arm. I wore cheap plastic bangles. Anything to cover up the scars. I wore converse. I wore the same pair for 3 years. I wore nail varnish on my bitten nails. I didn't tense and stick my chest out whenever a female spoke to me. If a female spoke to me. I just nodded pretending to acknowledge their presence.
Me. I'm the boy you see at the back of the class getting straight As, Who is constantly carrying a book and art folder. Who takes those random photographs at Lunch. Who constantly writes and drinks coffee. I am the boy who suffered for you life.
___
Gym. The ball was kicked to James, who passed it to Jack who then kicked it Tarn, who caught it and threw it at my head. I fall backwards, my head hitting the hard, stone cold floor. Laughter erupts and echoes. I was their voodoo doll. I get pricked, stabbed and thrown away. My feelings neither bruised nor hurt. Simple protocol. Hit me and you can hook up with her.
English. My most feared foe. I hated english. The things I wanted to write about were 'unethical'. So I wrote about it subliminally. Politics. Heartbreak. Murder. Revenge.
Revenge was my most beloved friend.
"Today class we're going to learn about poetic terms." Cheers came through but groans over powered them. Then there was silence.
"So, Jo. What would you say if I said 'Sonnet'? What is a Sonnet? How are they structured?"
She looked at the teacher and blinked nervously.
"uh-"
"ABAB, CDCD, EFEF, GG. A Sonnet always have 14 lines following that rhyming pattern and is always based on the topic of love."
Heads turned to me.
"Very good Frank. I'm glad someone listens to me."
Glances turned to glares. I stared blankly at them.
"Yeah?" "You're such a freak!" I rolled my eyes.
"You're so great at originality aren't you."
"Ugh, go suck Death's cock you Goth."
"I already have. He tasted so much better than you. He told me to tell you that you're gonna be the next one like your dead hamster!" 1 Kudos of me.
"Stupid Emo freak."
"Make up your mind, Joanne."
She screamed and jumped onto me. Her nails clawing at my face. Hands pulling on my hair.
She was suddenly pulled from me.
"That's enough Jo."
"He called me Joanne!"
"I don't care! Forget it!"
"Whatever." Her peroxide hair flipped sending her sticky honey smell into my nostrils. I almost threw up.
___
Lunch. Oh how I hated thee. Sat outside, that beam of innocence shining down, burning my back. Heating up my noir body. Making my coffee boil.
It angered me.
Oh how I wished I could block out the sun.
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Author: Ema.
Rating: PG-13 atm.
Summary: Me. I'm the boy you see at the back of the class getting straight As, Who is constantly carrying a book and art folder. Who takes those random photographs at Lunch. Who constantly writes and drinks coffee. I am the boy who suffered for you life.
Disclaimer: This was actually based on my own characters but i got bored and wanted to spice it up a little!
Author's Notes: I AM SO SORRY! It's been what, 3 months since I even logged into LJ! I am so sorry. Anyone miss me? I've just been so caught up with course work and exams, ugh one on monday D= I got an A in math! First A in math ever! Happy. Anyway, here's a new fic, tell what you think. I may update 'Maybe Blood Isn't Our Salvation' but I'm not sure. I love you all! - Emaleigh.
Frank.
People are naive, thoughtless. People do things out of boredom. Out of pure vegetation.
Have you been part of one of these thoughtless acts?
I have.
Have you suffered for it?
I have.
___
School. So young. Such a thoughtless time. The most important thing is what you and your girlfriend are going to do at the weekend. Your appearance is the most important thing. If you have one thing out of place, life as we know it is over. Your mobile. Your best friend. Type. Type Type. You leave no where, and I mean no where, without it. Your laptop. Constantly sat in front of it for hours refreshing your Myspace or Bebo, checking if you have new photo comments from any hot girls. Your whole life depends on what she thinks. By she I mean the it girl. If she doesn't find you cute, your life is over.
As for me, I never paid much attention to things like that. I didn't have a computer. I don't like them. I just write everything, draw tables, draw diagrams. If it's wrong, I re-write things. I like it old school.
I didn't wear tracksuits worth hundreds, I wore plain black jeans. Cheap but affective. I didn't wear designer polo shirts that looked hideous, I wore long sleeved shirts, black. I didn't gel my hair up to make me look 'hot'. I didn't work out every night. I wore eyeliner. I straightened my hair. I didn't wear big watches that had no way of fitting your arm. I wore cheap plastic bangles. Anything to cover up the scars. I wore converse. I wore the same pair for 3 years. I wore nail varnish on my bitten nails. I didn't tense and stick my chest out whenever a female spoke to me. If a female spoke to me. I just nodded pretending to acknowledge their presence.
Me. I'm the boy you see at the back of the class getting straight As, Who is constantly carrying a book and art folder. Who takes those random photographs at Lunch. Who constantly writes and drinks coffee. I am the boy who suffered for you life.
___
Gym. The ball was kicked to James, who passed it to Jack who then kicked it Tarn, who caught it and threw it at my head. I fall backwards, my head hitting the hard, stone cold floor. Laughter erupts and echoes. I was their voodoo doll. I get pricked, stabbed and thrown away. My feelings neither bruised nor hurt. Simple protocol. Hit me and you can hook up with her.
English. My most feared foe. I hated english. The things I wanted to write about were 'unethical'. So I wrote about it subliminally. Politics. Heartbreak. Murder. Revenge.
Revenge was my most beloved friend.
"Today class we're going to learn about poetic terms." Cheers came through but groans over powered them. Then there was silence.
"So, Jo. What would you say if I said 'Sonnet'? What is a Sonnet? How are they structured?"
She looked at the teacher and blinked nervously.
"uh-"
"ABAB, CDCD, EFEF, GG. A Sonnet always have 14 lines following that rhyming pattern and is always based on the topic of love."
Heads turned to me.
"Very good Frank. I'm glad someone listens to me."
Glances turned to glares. I stared blankly at them.
"Yeah?" "You're such a freak!" I rolled my eyes.
"You're so great at originality aren't you."
"Ugh, go suck Death's cock you Goth."
"I already have. He tasted so much better than you. He told me to tell you that you're gonna be the next one like your dead hamster!" 1 Kudos of me.
"Stupid Emo freak."
"Make up your mind, Joanne."
She screamed and jumped onto me. Her nails clawing at my face. Hands pulling on my hair.
She was suddenly pulled from me.
"That's enough Jo."
"He called me Joanne!"
"I don't care! Forget it!"
"Whatever." Her peroxide hair flipped sending her sticky honey smell into my nostrils. I almost threw up.
___
Lunch. Oh how I hated thee. Sat outside, that beam of innocence shining down, burning my back. Heating up my noir body. Making my coffee boil.
It angered me.
Oh how I wished I could block out the sun.