Mon, 23 Nov 2009 17:07:45 GMT

Common Modes of Transportation
01. Feet	02. Bicycle	03. Motorcycle	04. Car	05. Bus
06. Subway	07. Train	08. Airplane	09. Ferry	10. Cruise Ship

Sat, 17 Jan 2009 01:43:55 GMT

Title: 10 Song Meme
Pairing: Ray/Bob
Rating: Varies from G to R
Summary:
hilson_is_love’s Meme Instructions
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do ten of these, then post them.
Disclaimer: None of this happened, as far as I know.
Author's note: Dunno how good this is. Wrote this while my mother talked incessantly.

I: “Follow The Cops Back Home” (Placebo)
Word count: 188

Ray sighed as he stared out the passenger side window, watching the blinking red and blue lights from the cop car. He couldn’t believe what had happened. The police called him from work, pulled up a few minutes later and said he had to come home and… identify the body.

The trip up the stairs to his apartment was felt longer than it was. He could see the caution tape and crime scene photographer’s flash bulbs exploding as he reached his floor.

The blood smeared the wall of the bedroom, right above their bed. His heart nearly stopped and he felt like he was going to be violently ill. The body was still there, propped at an obscene angle, blood trailing from his cold, blue lips. Those lips he’d kissed this morning before he left for the office.

Who could have done this? The cops later said it was probably a random act of violence. They couldn’t find any leads. No one who would have wanted to hurt Bob. Ray secretly believed they just didn’t want anything to do with two homos.

Ray never trusted the cops anyway.

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II: “Gloomy Sunday” (Christian Death)
Word count: 99

His hand rested on the porcelain of the bathtub, staring down at the water. At his body. Soon it would all be over.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Life without Bob had been meaningless. Ever since the murder. He just couldn’t go on, despite what the grieving counselor had tried to tell him.

Soon the pills would take effect and he would be gone. Good, too, because the bathwater was cooling and if there was one thing he hated, it was a cold bath.

He tilted his head back, letting his eyes slip shut. Moments later, he was gone.

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III: “Pretty In Pink” (Psychedelic Furs)
Word count: 146

“Pink? Pink? You have to be kidding me.” Ray shook his head indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh come on, just this once! It’ll look great on you.”

Bob’s eyes were wide and blue and pleading. Ray couldn’t resist them. But seriously, pink?

Bob held up the pink shirt, smiling even though Ray looked reluctant. He took it and walked off to change, grimacing as he buttoned the shirt up. But still, he’d do just about anything for Bob, even if meant wearing this ridiculous shirt.

He had promised that today would be the best day of Bob’s life, and if Bob wanted pink shirts, then that’s what he’d get.

He stepped out of the room, staring at himself in the three way mirror as Bob and the saleswoman clucked over how cute he looked.

Later, Bob would hug him and whisper, “Thank you.”

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IV: “Happy Birthday” (Bright Eyes)
Word count: 178

Bob sat in the living room, twitching some. Nobody had called all day, and it was bothering him. He knew it was New Year’s, but it was also his birthday. He had no idea what was going on. Had he offended someone? He didn’t remember saying anything bad, aside from the usual crass jibes.

He sighed, rubbing his cat’s back as she trotted past, off to search for a warm place to lay. He stared at his cell phone, biting his lip. Maybe he should be the one to call. But he didn’t want to seem desperate. If Ray didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to talk. He had some idea that this had something to do with the little fight they’d had last weekend.

Trotting up the stairs, head ducked down, he made his way into the bedroom, curling up in a ball to fall asleep again.

In his sleep, he didn’t hear the knock on the door or the ring of the bell.

Snow fell slowly, and the dozen roses left on the doorstep froze.

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V: “White Minority” (Black Flag)
Word count: 41

Ray shook his head.

“It’s offensive!”

“It’s punk!”

“Henry Rollins is a dumb jock!”

“Take that back!”

Frank’s fist collided with his face and Ray fell over in a fit of laughs, the beer taking effect finally.

“Rise Above was better.”

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VI: “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” (Green Day)
Word count: 116

Ray flipped through the pictures on his laptop, a sad smile moving over his lips. Everybody was there, and so many memories flooded his mind as he gazed over their faces. Everybody was so young back then, so scared of the future but ready to face whatever it threw at them.

He turned his head, looking to the sleeping body beside him in bed. Sure, the band hadn’t been together for ages, but the reunion had been nice. He moved his hand overtop of Bob’s, their rings clinking together. Without the band, he wouldn’t have ever met Bob.

“Twenty years later, and I couldn’t be happier,” he’d said earlier at the party, and it was true.

---------------

VII: “Dancing With Tears In My Eyes” (Ultravox)
Word count: 192

Ray’s hands moved over his hips, knowing that at any moment it could be broken up. He had to make this count.

His eyes stared up into his lover’s, smiling to him. They’d fought so hard to even be able to come to prom together. They’d endured three years of bullshit from their peers every time they walked down the hall. Ray wouldn’t let this be ruined. He felt like he owed it to Bob. There would always be something inside him that felt guilty, as if he’d brought this all upon Bob.

Bob smiled back as best as he could. He tried not to worry. Tried to block out the threats that he’d gotten earlier. He knew a bunch of guys planned to jump them after prom. He’d managed to sneak a knife in past security. He wouldn’t let them touch a hair on Ray’s head without a fight.

Behind Ray’s shoulder, Bob spied a teacher marching over to break them apart and his eyes filled with tears.

“One day we won’t have to worry about any of this,” he whispered as their bodies were broken apart by the assistant principal.

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VIII: “Code Blue” (TSOL)
Word count: 86

Ray wiped his hand over his brow, staring down at the body laying out on the surgical table in front of him.

He hated to admit it, but the guy laying there would’ve been good looking in life. No, actually he’d be pretty hot.

He frowned, shaking his head as he gathered his instruments for autopsy.

A latex gloved hand traced over the stark white flesh for a moment before he moved back to work.

But, still, the thought lingered.

He probably wouldn’t get caught. Probably.

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IX: “Sex Dwarf” (Soft Cell)
Word count: 172

The collar tightened, the leash attached to it being pulled.

“Ungh, Ray.”

“Shh. Just stay like that.”

Bob felt slightly humiliated, being tied up like this. What was worse was that Ray had a camera in his hands, a smirk on his lips and a hard-on the size of Texas under his jeans.

“Please baby, this is just what I need to get off,” he murmured, adjusting the f-stop on the camera. A few snaps and Ray moved position, handing Bob the handcuffs. He cuffed one wrist and smirked. A few more shots.

“God, you look so good like that,” Ray mumbled, putting the camera aside. He crawled up on the bed, straddling his lover’s hips. A crush of lips, more passionate than Bob could remember. Ray tugged Bob’s leash again, grinding his hips down into Bob’s teasingly.

Afterwards, as Bob was undoing the collar, putting it away with Ray’s collection of toys, he would shake his head and laugh softly.

“Ray Toro, world famous guitarist and sex fiend. Who’d have thought?”

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X: “Freakshow” (The Gothic Archies)
Word count: 105

Bob wrapped his arm around Ray, feeling those curls brush against his chin as Ray rested his head on his shoulder.

“Ooh, look, a freakshow!” Ray gasped, pointing to the tent.

“I thought those things were like, politically incorrect or something.”

“Yeah, so? I wanna see it!” Ray was already dragging him in.

The dusty tent smelled strange, but Ray seemed too busy gawking over the two-headed fetus in a jar of formaldehyde to notice. Bob snuck up behind him, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck, reaching for his hand in the dark space.

“Freaks,” someone grunted as they brushed past the two, sneering.

the kind of human wreckage that you love