song drabble exercise
so, to procrastinate writing GRex, i've taken to Deadman Wonderland. and to distract myself from DW's hiatus, i've taken to G-Dragon. and by reading rps on GD, i've gotten back into writing. but nothing productive, oh no. i'm playing fic-writing games with my itunes list. XD;
(maybe i need a tumblr...? still haven't figured out how that shit works tho.)
Spoiler, they're all AUs.
shes not me (cir)
She doesn't necessarily give a fuck anymore. Her friends call her a heartbreaker at best and a territorial cunt at worst, and she won't dispute either. She has walked straight up to the an 'other' bitch and said, "Step the fuck off my pissing grounds." And then left the deserving gutter slut with a broken collar bone.
It's a tantalizing rush that overcomes her, to the point of making her so wet and dizzy to the point that sometimes she's not sure whether she wants to fuck an ex main squeeze or the whomever's fucking them. Anything besides them fucking each other, basically.
People talk about her like she can't hear. Like word doesn't spread like fire in social groups like this. She waggles her pierced tongue at anyone who stares. A lot of the time, they end up coming to her. By the end, they're begging for just one. More. Night. Pleasebabyplease.
But that's not cute, so she lets them fall aside all over themselves. The break-up is is only foreplay to her though. They're don't realize until it's too late. No matter how many stories spin around, passed back and forth from mouths, like exchanged spit from kissing, or actually, more like mono in that spit. Yeah. She's like an STD. No matter how many warnings, and there will always be shmucks thinking they can save her. STDs don't happen to everyone, just stupid people. And if she can punish people for being stupid, then maybe she has a purpose in life after all.
broken bones n death trips au, gat, rex
"Slower, I said!" he snaps into the passenger window, hanging upside down after almost tumble-rolling off the damn truck.
The dickhole speeds up though, vehicle swaggering from the impossibly high speed. Over the wind roar and the fucking ice cream truck music is Gatlocke's howling laughter and Rex can't help but grin back.
Gatlocke's arm sticks out the window (oh, jesus, he's using one hand to steer) to point at the armored truck they're closing tail on. "Your mark, kiddo!"
Rex nods and pushes himself back onto the roof, making ready to pounce and forming his sword. He leaps, body slamming into the target as it sharply turns. He hears a curse and is able to catch view the ice cream truck swerving just enough to scrape a building before it's back on all four wheels and gaining speed. Rex Sirens join the chaos of Gatlocke's gunhail. Rex plunges his sword into the thick metal and begins to drag out an opening. Someone's on a megaphone telling them to cease and desist or else.
Gatlocke's caught up, driving alongside the armored vehicle.
A last exchange of grins between criminals. They choose 'or else'. As if there was even an option.
waiting on the end rex/cir
They've made it to the town. Shoulder to shoulder, they're almost leaning on each other. They sort of are, propped up against each other with wobbly legs. The stares they receive from various strangers tells them everything. They look all kinds of shit.
She tries to run a hand through her hair, but is halted by a stubborn tangle and decides it's not worth it, leaves it be. He looks away before she can catch him staring and instead they both catch sight of the inn.
"We part ways here, right?" he states more than asks, and his voice is as bad as he probably looks. He nudges her as they both stare at it with dead gazes. "Told you I can keep promises."
"Yeah."
But then she takes his hand. They walk into the inn together.
In his head, he pictures her smiling.
say youll haunt me gat/cir
He doesn't bothered to knock when he enters. She hadn't brothered to lock the door. He finds her on the floor. She finds him staring sadly down at her.
"Too much," she rasps and then curls in on herself, coughing. "This time."
"This is the last time," he tells her.
At this, she starts laughing. She's still trembling from giggles when he picks her up off the floor and pulls her close on the couch. And then she begins crying and shaking her head, shaking her head, shaking her head. She begins touching his face, begging him no, pleading with him, pressing her forehead to his.
He smiles, patting down her hair.
Then he steps forward out of the memory, pistol raised.
touchin on my gat/rex
"Do you have a name, doll?" Gatlocke whispers, or at least tries to, but he is seriously verymuch ludicrously unlikely and uh…dunkr.
The dancer moves against Gatlocke's fingers with a light shove, a polite reminder of the "No Touching" rule.
"Sal," he says.
"Your real name," Gatlocke says, or at least tries to, but...
The boy snickers, "Sal." He plucks the twenty from Gatlocke's limp hand, touch lingering.
It must have been an eternity again because now, the dancer is flying on stage. Upon neon lights, pushed by the flow of beat and tune, body aglow and flush and sweaty. He clothes drip to the floor and Gatlocke's eyes follow.
In the morning, Gatlocke will find one word written where the stripper touched: Rex.
sail white, gat, cir, cae, rex
With a huff, White says, "He's late."
"Sharp one you are, White," Gatlocke snarks with a sharp grin.
"Stop," Circe sighs before the two can start going at it. Again. Once the two are silenced, she turns to the genius. "Anything, yet?"
Caesar usually takes a few tries before anyone can get his attention, but it's close enough to show time that his mind's keeping the job hovering just above all else. "My signal's blocked. They've locked the zone." He looks at her full-on and looks just about out of sheepish smiles on his brother's behalf.
"It's fine." And Rex steps in, grinning wide as he makes them all jump and assume fighting stances.
Gatlocke sweeps over from where he'd been lounging and chides, "About flippin' time!" He licks his lips, giving Rex the up-down. "Fashionably late, I see."
Rex pushes him off with a smirk, letting the compliment powder him with an extra layer of vanity. "So, we ready or what?"
"Waiting on you," Circe says with an eye roll, peeved now that she realized he's wearing new clothes and was probably late because he'd been shopping.
little lion man gat/rex
Gatlocke stumbled again, dry heaving. He wiped his chin half-heartedly of slobber and leftover vomit.
"Stupid stupid, ah fer bumbargenhgghghh," he garbled, and then shook his head.
Rex's face flashed in his mind again. Rex's grinning face, teeth gleaming against the bright sun. Rex laughing at him obnoxiously, purposefully loud. Rex smiling warm and reaching for him. Rex with wide, dark-circled eyes and blood smears on his face and ugly tears smudging the entire mess, screaming at him.
Gatlocke's vision tripled and he doubled over, dry-heaving.
He was crying well before the ground swung up to meet him.
(maybe i need a tumblr...? still haven't figured out how that shit works tho.)
Spoiler, they're all AUs.
shes not me (cir)
She doesn't necessarily give a fuck anymore. Her friends call her a heartbreaker at best and a territorial cunt at worst, and she won't dispute either. She has walked straight up to the an 'other' bitch and said, "Step the fuck off my pissing grounds." And then left the deserving gutter slut with a broken collar bone.
It's a tantalizing rush that overcomes her, to the point of making her so wet and dizzy to the point that sometimes she's not sure whether she wants to fuck an ex main squeeze or the whomever's fucking them. Anything besides them fucking each other, basically.
People talk about her like she can't hear. Like word doesn't spread like fire in social groups like this. She waggles her pierced tongue at anyone who stares. A lot of the time, they end up coming to her. By the end, they're begging for just one. More. Night. Pleasebabyplease.
But that's not cute, so she lets them fall aside all over themselves. The break-up is is only foreplay to her though. They're don't realize until it's too late. No matter how many stories spin around, passed back and forth from mouths, like exchanged spit from kissing, or actually, more like mono in that spit. Yeah. She's like an STD. No matter how many warnings, and there will always be shmucks thinking they can save her. STDs don't happen to everyone, just stupid people. And if she can punish people for being stupid, then maybe she has a purpose in life after all.
broken bones n death trips au, gat, rex
"Slower, I said!" he snaps into the passenger window, hanging upside down after almost tumble-rolling off the damn truck.
The dickhole speeds up though, vehicle swaggering from the impossibly high speed. Over the wind roar and the fucking ice cream truck music is Gatlocke's howling laughter and Rex can't help but grin back.
Gatlocke's arm sticks out the window (oh, jesus, he's using one hand to steer) to point at the armored truck they're closing tail on. "Your mark, kiddo!"
Rex nods and pushes himself back onto the roof, making ready to pounce and forming his sword. He leaps, body slamming into the target as it sharply turns. He hears a curse and is able to catch view the ice cream truck swerving just enough to scrape a building before it's back on all four wheels and gaining speed. Rex Sirens join the chaos of Gatlocke's gunhail. Rex plunges his sword into the thick metal and begins to drag out an opening. Someone's on a megaphone telling them to cease and desist or else.
Gatlocke's caught up, driving alongside the armored vehicle.
A last exchange of grins between criminals. They choose 'or else'. As if there was even an option.
waiting on the end rex/cir
They've made it to the town. Shoulder to shoulder, they're almost leaning on each other. They sort of are, propped up against each other with wobbly legs. The stares they receive from various strangers tells them everything. They look all kinds of shit.
She tries to run a hand through her hair, but is halted by a stubborn tangle and decides it's not worth it, leaves it be. He looks away before she can catch him staring and instead they both catch sight of the inn.
"We part ways here, right?" he states more than asks, and his voice is as bad as he probably looks. He nudges her as they both stare at it with dead gazes. "Told you I can keep promises."
"Yeah."
But then she takes his hand. They walk into the inn together.
In his head, he pictures her smiling.
say youll haunt me gat/cir
He doesn't bothered to knock when he enters. She hadn't brothered to lock the door. He finds her on the floor. She finds him staring sadly down at her.
"Too much," she rasps and then curls in on herself, coughing. "This time."
"This is the last time," he tells her.
At this, she starts laughing. She's still trembling from giggles when he picks her up off the floor and pulls her close on the couch. And then she begins crying and shaking her head, shaking her head, shaking her head. She begins touching his face, begging him no, pleading with him, pressing her forehead to his.
He smiles, patting down her hair.
Then he steps forward out of the memory, pistol raised.
touchin on my gat/rex
"Do you have a name, doll?" Gatlocke whispers, or at least tries to, but he is seriously verymuch ludicrously unlikely and uh…dunkr.
The dancer moves against Gatlocke's fingers with a light shove, a polite reminder of the "No Touching" rule.
"Sal," he says.
"Your real name," Gatlocke says, or at least tries to, but...
The boy snickers, "Sal." He plucks the twenty from Gatlocke's limp hand, touch lingering.
It must have been an eternity again because now, the dancer is flying on stage. Upon neon lights, pushed by the flow of beat and tune, body aglow and flush and sweaty. He clothes drip to the floor and Gatlocke's eyes follow.
In the morning, Gatlocke will find one word written where the stripper touched: Rex.
sail white, gat, cir, cae, rex
With a huff, White says, "He's late."
"Sharp one you are, White," Gatlocke snarks with a sharp grin.
"Stop," Circe sighs before the two can start going at it. Again. Once the two are silenced, she turns to the genius. "Anything, yet?"
Caesar usually takes a few tries before anyone can get his attention, but it's close enough to show time that his mind's keeping the job hovering just above all else. "My signal's blocked. They've locked the zone." He looks at her full-on and looks just about out of sheepish smiles on his brother's behalf.
"It's fine." And Rex steps in, grinning wide as he makes them all jump and assume fighting stances.
Gatlocke sweeps over from where he'd been lounging and chides, "About flippin' time!" He licks his lips, giving Rex the up-down. "Fashionably late, I see."
Rex pushes him off with a smirk, letting the compliment powder him with an extra layer of vanity. "So, we ready or what?"
"Waiting on you," Circe says with an eye roll, peeved now that she realized he's wearing new clothes and was probably late because he'd been shopping.
little lion man gat/rex
Gatlocke stumbled again, dry heaving. He wiped his chin half-heartedly of slobber and leftover vomit.
"Stupid stupid, ah fer bumbargenhgghghh," he garbled, and then shook his head.
Rex's face flashed in his mind again. Rex's grinning face, teeth gleaming against the bright sun. Rex laughing at him obnoxiously, purposefully loud. Rex smiling warm and reaching for him. Rex with wide, dark-circled eyes and blood smears on his face and ugly tears smudging the entire mess, screaming at him.
Gatlocke's vision tripled and he doubled over, dry-heaving.
He was crying well before the ground swung up to meet him.