|
Fix You
Mar 10, 2010 10:26:01 GMT -5
Post by Rosey on Mar 10, 2010 10:26:01 GMT -5
Let's Dance to Joy Devision and celebrate the irony...[/b][/color][/size] Androgyny.
It was a word that not a lot of Generation Y were familiar with. If you did know what it was, when you thought about it the first person that might come to mind would be the UK's own Ziggy Stardust (David Bowie). Then of course there were Mick Jagger, Syd Barrett, Peter Cook’s style and looks were cool too). There were a lot of women who found this sort of look pretty attractive. Yeah it was a bit puzzling. But Dale read a book once (wow yeah Dale can actually read), about the New York Dolls and David Johansen was saying that none of them were gay or even bisexual, and that when they started dressing in stilettos and leather pants, women got it straight away with no explanation. But a lot of men had problems. It’s one of those strange things. A man will go, ‘You bloody queer.’ And you just think, ‘Well, your girlfriend fancies me.’
Dale didn't know it yet, but this rainy Saturday mid-morning was going to become one of those scenarios. He'd been lucky in the past, growing up in London you'd be seeing a lot of stange looking people. I mean, c'mon it's Europe! Even there though Androgyny was a rare thing. It was something of the 70's now.
The first thing that anyone would notice about Dale's side of the dorm would be the color. Everything was colourful. On his side of the room was a huge wardrobe that took up almost half the wall, with clothes bursting out of it, all colours of the rainbow. Hats, belts, badges, scarves and shoes littered the floor and hung draped from a hat stand in the corner. The duvet on top of the single bed was a satiny, silky bright blue with a red cotton pillow (he hated trying to sleep opn satin pillows his head always slipped off). There was a dresser with an enormous mirror propped up on it right beside it, and an array of beauty products scattered apon it. A pair of straighteners lay next to it on the floor. It was clearly a room for someone obsessed by their own appearance.
Dale stood up so that he was facing Howard, fluffing a hand through his black hair in an automatic movement. Now, down to business. Dale thought as he walked over towards the overflowing drawers of clothing and started to leaf through some of the jeans till he found a pair of red drainpipe jeans. He nearly tripped right into the wall as he pulled the jeans up his thighs and around his waist, buttoning them together above his pelvis.
Flaunting his drainpipe jeans, Dale flicked some raven-colored hair from his eyes as he leafed through more racks, this time looking at the selection of shirts and jumpers. “Hmm,” He tilted his head to one side a little uncertainly as he pulled out a white woolen jumper. It was not unlike one of the jumpers that he had packed with him before he left London, though the one he owned had a face on the front. Dale’s face. The story behind that was there was this woman who wanted to knit his portrait. Whether he was telling the truth or not, was, of course, debatable. With that brief memory in mind, Dale absentmindedly hummed to himself as he tossed it into a ‘maybe pile’.
It probably took longer than one would consider normal for Dale to choose between the three jackets, four pairs of boots, two jumpers and six t-shirts he had pulled from the closet. But in the end he chose a black woolen jumper with odd looking grey, white and brown pattern around the collar and wrists, as well as the red drainpipe jeans he’d chosen. The boots, he’d decided on wearing - for now, anyway, he’d change into another pair later on - were a gold color.
Dale stood by the cupboard door for a moment, swinging back and forth admiring his reflection before he spun on his heel, finally a little happier to be wearing something warm, and sat down at the desk chair. Carefully, he picked up the straightener, staring into the mirror as he pulled the straightener through his ebony hair, being extra careful not to burn the back of his neck as he reached the back. As much as he loved having his hair straightened, he did hate having the hot implement that close to his neck. Once the hair around his shoulders was straightened, Dale turned the straightener off, leaving it to cool on the table. He then opened one of the other drawers on the other side of the desk, moving aside gells and hair ties, mascara, eye liner, eye shadow, and even lipstick!
Sure, Dale admittedly, did put eye-liner on occasionally. That was just his look; he conformed to specific subcultures which he considered vogue, such as mod, goth, punk and new rave, adapting them to fit his androgynous dandyesque appearance. But what was he going to do with lipstick? Wait for a dress-up party or something.
Chuckling to himself, Dale pulled out what he’d been looking for - a bottle of mousse and a can of hair spray. Then, spraying a decent amount on his hands, he began to massage the mousse into the top of his head and hair near his temples and fringe, giving it a little spike. He then took the can of spray and, squinting his eyes shut, he sprayed it around the finishing touches, making sure that it’d all stay in place. There was NO way he was going to go back outside while it was raining now, he thought decisively. He would have to be dragged back, kicking and screaming.
Dale rose from his seat now, putting everything away - except for the straighteners which were still hot - wandering towards his bed, before flopping down upon it. His body twisted into a pose, that didn’t seem ultimately comfortable; but it seemed to suit him just fine in his unnervingly static state.
From the waist up, he sprawled: left arm stretched out across his stomach against the padded bedding in which his torso lay, right palm dangling over one of the edge as his head lolled backwards, away from the pillow, chin pointing heavenwards. His legs told another tale, one lay straight out in front of him; the other lay a little more limp, his knee tapping absently against the other.
Lazily, Dale lifted the hand that had been resting across his flat stomach and felt around for the bag of sweets, not even bothering to look up as he tried to reach under his pillow and into the bag to take out the first sweet he felt. His fingers wrapped around something that rustled, like a wrapper, and pulled it out, holding one end of the wrapper with his teeth and pulling on the other end to upwrap it, before popping it into his mouth; chewing happily as he let the empty wrapper drop onto the satin sheet.
"Mmm," He licked his lips merrily, just as he heard the door of to his dorm open, and close in front of him. It didnt occur to him that he should move; he was way too happy there. Beside's, whoever it was, he was sure they were'nt going to mind him just laying there, surely.Everything is going wrong but we're so happy! STATUS ;; COMPLETED\ TAGS ;; DALE, DEAN
|
|
|
Fix You
Mar 11, 2010 20:16:44 GMT -5
Post by Dean Parsons on Mar 11, 2010 20:16:44 GMT -5
Well it had been one hell of a day for Dean Parsons, he had arrived just in time to make it for English, where the dragon lady bit his head off for being late, then the other newbie a girl fainted so he got to skip class as he sat out on the lawn waiting for her to feel better. The rest of the day had been pretty boring until after classes finished that is until he went to meet his new horse Perry. He had decided to go for a ride when he met another girl, after falling off Perry and Puncturing his diaphragm, and the girl falling off two they had both ended in the hospital. He had originally only gone in an attempt to make sure she was alright but he ended up being roped into having x-rays. The nurse was very pushy in making sure he had them too even though he didn’t want them.
After finally getting back to the school he had eventually been given his room assignment, apparently he already had a room mate. His insides still ached as he made his way to his dorm, sharp stabbing pains in his side as he walked but he tried to ignore it his bag of meager things slung over his shoulder. He hoped his room mate was normal, and didn’t have too many annoying habits that he would have to deal with but when did that ever happen right?
All he wanted to do was flop gently on his bed and try to get some sleep even though he knew with his side the way it was sleep would be hard to find but he would at least try. If worse came to worse he would read one of his few books to pass some of the time till his side settled and he could sleep properly.
As he reached his new dorm he paused only for a second before placing the key in the lock and pushing the door open. It squeaked only slightly as it opened and settled and he got the first glimpse of the dorm, one side was generic of a dorm room prior to settling in, it held a single bed with boring grey duvet, a bedside table and a desk and chair, as well as a small dresser for clothes. The other side of the room however was completely different, it was an onslaught of colour, there were clothes spilling out of the oversized wardrobe, the desk was covered in things like straighteners and was that makeup? Then his eyes were drawn to the bed, there sprawled out on satin sheets was the biggest princess looking pixie he had ever met.
“Don’t tell me they roomed me with queer.”
He said with exasperation as he walked in dumping his bag on his bland bed before sitting gingerly on it himself, wincing as he did so from the pain shooting through his chest. His statement had been more of an exasperated mumble then something he had actually wanted the little pixie to hear but he wouldn’t know if he had accidently been heard until the guy reacted. Either way Dean had a feeling that asking for a dorm reassignment might be in order, he was a slight homophobe to be honest.
Word Count ;; 552 [/blockquote][/size]
|
|
|
Fix You
Mar 12, 2010 5:18:07 GMT -5
Post by Rosey on Mar 12, 2010 5:18:07 GMT -5
Let's Dance to Joy Devision and celebrate the irony...[/b][/color][/size] It was the most probable reaction.
As soon as Dale heard the door creak open his head was up, ink black hair falling around his head like raven’s feathers and large blue eyes searching the doorframe. A guy walked in, so tall that Dale was surprised he hadn't needed to duck as he entered the room. All blase looking and unimpressed; short brown hair with thin blonde highlights. He was muscular too! And Dale unconciously clenched his fist, curling his wrist against the duvet to feel his lithe lower arm muscles tense up a bit. The guy made him feel like some sort of marionette wearing a funny jumper.
The new guy stood in silence for a moment, straight out completely ignoring Dale for a moment as his green eyes swept the room, taking it all in. Then his eyes landed on Dale and he knew it was coming. His tongue wandered his mouth as he waited for it, searching vainly for a last bit of faint flavor trapped in his teeth. Then there it was! When the intruder opened his mouth to speak, he muttered something so quietly that it Dale had almost missed it, but his ears willed him to listen. "Don’t tell me they roomed me with a queer." The guy's tone was that of annoyance as he dumped a bag he'd had slung over his shoulder, onto his bed. Which looked so bland and lacking any sort of characteristics (if a bed ever had some) compared to Dale's own satin silked sheets. There was a faint squeak of bed-spring's as the new guy's muscular weight was seated upon it and Dale lifted himself bodily to sit up right across from his newly assigned room mate, facing him with a look of complete calm on his pointed features.
It hadn't been the first time someone had said something hurtful like that; Dale would have been surprised if the guy didn't react this way, as most men did; often resorting to becomming quite abrasive and aggressive. Sometimes there was no point in smack talk. But he wanted to do something. I mean, he'd have to spend his day's at FFA living with this narrow minded jockstrap. Dalecould remember one time, way back in London he'd been out with a few friends when a guy (who had obviously had a few too many to drink) started heckling Dale, shouting at him from across the street. A "fucking transvestite" the guy had called Dale. “Points to you though, mate. Anyone who bum’s ya can pretend you’re a he or a she. I’m sure it must be hours of fun.” The drunk had finished on a laugh. Except he was the only one laughing. It was like that in London. Up North it was a slightly more self-deprecating thing. In London it was much more attacking and people really took the piss. You had to be on your guard otherwise you just get caned.
So what Dale decided to do next he knew he was taking a bit of a risk. It could either go two ways, the worst alternative would probably be that he get's thrown on his ass. Dale rose slowly from his bed, stepping towards the mouthy brunette, looking calm as he approached the bed, glad now that the guy was sitting instead of standing. Dale leant over slightly, until his nose was nearly touching his room-mate's. He smiled a wicked smile; “Swee’heart. I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be. And I’m more of a woman than you’ll ever get.”
At the new guy's expression, Dale made a grab for his face with both hands and pulled him into a rough snog. He kept his eyes closed as he forced his tongue inside the guy's mouth for a few humiliating seconds, holding his face firmly between his curled fingers before shoving him away.
Dale stepped back then, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as if he’d kissed a toad; “Now who’s the queer, heh?” He looked at him squarely then.
Dale straightened up, brushing himself off and smiling with mixed amusement, thiumph, and a little grossed out with himself to be honest. But he'd wanted a reaction, and he was as asure as hell he was about to get it any second now. Dale turned then, facing his side of the room now as he took a few step's towards it, with his back turned to the guy now, a wide grin spread across Dale’s crooked features, a new found sence of power surging through him.Everything is going wrong but we're so happy! STATUS ;; COMPLETED\ TAGS ;; DALE, DEAN
|
|
|
Fix You
Mar 15, 2010 8:48:33 GMT -5
Post by Dean Parsons on Mar 15, 2010 8:48:33 GMT -5
After Dean made his little comment he didn't think too much about the guy on the other side of the room as he looked around his own boring side, truth be told it wouldn't change much from this even once he was settled. Sure the desk over there would end up with a pile of books on it but other then that there wouldn't be a hell of a lot different from this. Deans mind was filled with thoughts of today especially this afternoon, and the girl he met, both of them being thrown from their horses and being stranded at the hospital.
It came as a slight shock when he heard the guys voice right in front of his face considering he had been daydreaming off in his own little world. He barely heard what the guy said as the words were wiped from his mind when his new roommate grabbed his face and kissed him forcing his tongue into Deans mouth. Now Dean is a complete homophobe call it irrational if you want but having some dude stick his tongue down your throat is not a good thing. His reaction was almost automatic but not quite as for the first few seconds he was just stunned, then he reacted jumping off the bed and away from the guy his fist was formed, pulled back behind him he threw it forward with force aiming straight for the guys face.
He had no idea if his aim was true he knew if it landed it would do some damage as he was a strong guy even injured, one thing was for sure though if he didn't get the cocky little so and so with the first blow he would get him with one sooner or later cause there aint no way in hell any bloke gets away with sticking their tongue down Dean's throat. Even as Dean threw the punch he didn't know whether throwing the punch was his best option or if running to the bathroom too wash his mouth out with turps was the best option. One thing was for sure he had a feeling he wouldn't feel truly clean again for a long long time!
"You feral mongrel!"
Exploded from his lips as he through his weight into the punch and even as he felt the pain shooting through his side as he launched toward Dale with the thought of hurting him strong on his mind he didn't stop. he had kept fighting with worse injuries then this in the past and he was damned if he was going to let any guy stick their tongue down his throat and not try and rip the damn thing out of their head!
Word Count ;; 454 [/blockquote][/size]
|
|
|
Fix You
Mar 16, 2010 1:57:41 GMT -5
Post by Rosey on Mar 16, 2010 1:57:41 GMT -5
Let's Dance to Joy Devision and celebrate the irony...[/b][/color][/size] When Dale had decided to go ahead with the snog, he had stood in front of Dean, outwardly calm, but his insides had been in turmoil. It could have either been the cleverest or the most stupid thing he'd ever done. He'd freaked the guy out that was for sure. Dale didn't even need to see the guy's reaction to know that. It was a brave, and idiotic thing to do, kissing him. Especially when you were just about to share the same room with that guy for the remainder of the school year. Not a smart move, Dale, not a smart move. A sound behind Dale made him want to turn around. His mind only had time to register that it was a gutteral noise, like a growl before he heard Dean's voice spit at him, "You feral mongrel!" and it was a split second later that he did twist around, and had to stop short at the expression on Dean's face. The taller guy's eyes were clouded with furious anger and he looked almost... psychotic. Dale's eyes widened as he saw Dean's fist clench, and before he had time to react the fist had made solid contact with his jaw.
Dean punched Dale so hard his slender body almost literally flew backwards, his head hitting the side of his bed post, and crumpling to the ground. Dean had hit Dale. That just wasn't supposed to happen. No-one hit Dale. Ever. Not anymore anyway. Hitting Dale was almost tantamount to child abuse. Dale was like an energetic child, who you could get annoyed with every so often, but never ever struck. And now by the looks of it, he appeared to be unconscious. He was lying on his side on the floor of the small dorm, legs crumpled at an awkward angle beneath him, dark hair falling over his face. He definitely wasn't moving.
Who on earth could be heartless enough to do something like that to another human being? And why did it have to be Dale? Well yes there was that snog thing. It had been a homophobic attack of course. People looked at Dale and judged him immediately by his outward appearance. They would never know what sorta person he was, how much he liked to make other's smile, simply because it was who he was. Oh yes, of course, he could be incredibly annoying and amazingly insensitive sometimes, but he never meant anything maliciously.
A few long second's dragged past before Dale opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times as his eyes took a moment to focus, and for his mind to work out exactly where he was. His gaze travelled slowly around the room, taking in all the furniture and decorations. And then oooh my goood, what a blinder! He could feel something wet was trickling down through his hair and slithering down the side of his face now and Dale allowed his hand to reach towards his cherished tresses, wincing and pulling his hand back sharply to reveal that his palm was crimson red. It was strange, looking at your own blood; knowing that it came from your body.
Oh no... the blood must be making a complete mess of his hair! 20 minutes plus of shampooing, conditioning, volume spraying, root booster, and hair spray, completely ruined in a matter of a couple of minutes. Something was slithering down the corner of his lip too. More blood, Dale reasoned as his large eyes, now glazed slightly with hurt - yet still accusing - looked up at his attacker. "Yeah I hope you feel real butch righ' now ya bastard." His lilted voice was laced with concussion. "Look a' tha'." He allowed his head to drop forwards as he pointed towards the back, where he thought the blood was, roughly. Even that simple motion spurred Dale to shut his eyes tightly as blackness began to creep in at the edges of his vision, again, the skin around Dale's jaw and forehead was started to look raw. Showing the beginnings of livid bruises.
Dale didn't really blame Dean for hitting him. It had only been a matter of time really. Dale was aware that obviously pushed the guy to do this, seeing how far he could bait him. Well, now he knew. He'd royally cocked up the whole situation, hadn't he? It was a fairly roundabout turn of emotion. Well there was still a way of getting him back for it. Dale's foggy mind was already working out way's to get him back for this. Oooh this was going to be fun.
Dale lifted himself into a sitting possition, his tangled leg's now splayed out in front of him as he held up his torso with his arms, palms facing flat against the now blood splattered carpeting. He could feel the blood from his nose wetting his lips down, and he could feel the metalic taste as he allowed his tongue to sample it on his upperlip while he glared up at his attacker. Dale was splayed just a meter or so away from Dean now, looking up at him. He needed to do something, right now, and he decided to do the very first thing he could think of in this situation. It was probably a better idea than his original idea. At least Dean's initial reaction had been a good one! In a quick (or the quickest he could manage without passing out) motion, Dale raised his pelvis just enough so that he could aim a strong kick for the guy's crotch. He kicked as hard as he could, hoping his aim was right. In stack heeled boots, you know that it'd cause some decent damage, at least enough for Dale to get up and find something better to defend himself with anyway.Everything is going wrong but we're so happy! STATUS ;; COMPLETED\ TAGS ;; DALE, DEAN
|
|
|
Fix You
Mar 16, 2010 9:47:20 GMT -5
Post by Dean Parsons on Mar 16, 2010 9:47:20 GMT -5
Dean felt the satisfying 'Clunk' of a target hit, he watched at the guy was almost thrown backwards by the force of his fist making connection with the guys jaw and saw as his head was thrown against the bed frame before the queer lay still and crumpled on the floor. He stood there looking down at the guy anger still coursing through him that the impact of what he had done hadn't sunk in yet as he watched crimson blossom up on the guys jaw and head.
He was just about to check if the guy was still damn breathing when he saw him stir and instead just stood there towering over him, to be honest he didn't feel guilty he had done way worse to people for less before. Besides honestly the dude had up and kissed him, and not just that he had forced his god damn tongue into his mouth the little shit deserved everything he got, though Dean made a mental note to leave it at that the little guy obviously couldn't take to severe of a beating if he was laying crumpled after one hit.
He watched as the Little guy sat up and examined himself noting that he was bleeding and then calling Dean names not that it worried him he had been called worse before so he was used to it. He didn't make to move when the guy sitting on the floor pointed to the back of his head and said look at tha' as if Dean hadn't already noticed that. Now Dean had been in plenty of street fights before something he tried to hide from his mother she didn't like him fighting his dad on the other hand thought it build character. So when he saw the guy's movement to kick him in the balls he saw it, though he hadn't been paying full attention and his move to get out of the way came a little too late. with the massive boot coping him one in the side instead of in the balls.
Now usually that wouldn't have worried him too much but since he had already hurt his insides today through his stupid floating ribs this made him double up in pain, he gasped for breath like a fish out of water the harder he tried to catch his breath the harder it seemed too be. He staggered to the bed and collapsed doubled over in pain almost in a fetal position.
"You ... Fucking ... Dick ..."
He gasped out as he tried to catch his breath without success, he knew he should have been watching closer, paying complete attention but he hadn't figured the guy had much fight in him, most queers didn't and if nothing else the guy had made Dean think more acutely that he was indeed gay after snogging him against his will. Dean was well aware that at this present time he was way unable to do any damage to the other guy now, his side had started feeling better but it sure as heck wasn't anymore, and he knew it wouldn't for a while now, those damn boots hurt like buggery. But he also knew that this was far from over sooner or later that little queer would pay 1) for snoggin him and 2) for kicking him in the side there was no way in hell Dean would let him get away with either.
Word Count ;; 575 [/blockquote][/size]
|
|
|
Fix You
Mar 18, 2010 10:30:55 GMT -5
Post by Rosey on Mar 18, 2010 10:30:55 GMT -5
Let's Dance to Joy Devision and celebrate the irony...[/b][/color][/size]
"You're the dick!" Dale pointed at the guy, now writhing on his bed. "Just look at wha' you did to my nose! And my head!" He thrust a finger at his nose and pointed at the blood which was coating his nose, his cheeks, his mouth, his chin, his neck, dripping down the collar of his jumper, covering one of his hands. His nose was throbbing and it hurt to move his jaw, but Dale wasn't going to let this... this... I dono, but bastard didn't seem to cover it. "You're a real ballbag, y'know that? Goin' an' hitting people who do you think you are? Y'might've broke my nose!" Dale fidgeted on the spot for a moment before he allowed his eyes to drop down to the guy's bag of thing's lying on the bed. I'll show you he though, before he took a short step and made a grab for it, knowing that the guy was in no fit condition now be able to get up after him, running out the door and down the corridor before he found the room he was after.
As he opened the door his eye's were instantly met with the sight of tiled walls and flooring, bland looking sinks and a long line of cubicals. Not far from that was a few more stalls equipped with shower nozels. He strode towards it. Allowing the bag to slip from his hand, it fell to the tiled floor with a dull 'thud', and Dale instantly began rummaging through it's content's. Dale threw out all of Dean's clothes (nothing else, he wasnt that cruel) and kicked the bag out of the way before he turned on the shower nozzle. Standing back, with his arms crossed across his chest, Dale smirked as he watched the water flowing from the shower nozzle begin to drench the bundle of clothing. He poked his tongue out, blowing a raspberry at the apparel before he spun around and strode towards the long line of sinks. He then turned on a tap above a sink and inspected the damage of his face.
Dale gasped. Sure enough his face was smeared with blood. He could already see where his face was bruising against his pale skin. His hair was matted, and when he ran his hand through it again his fingers came away red with blood. His nose - or what he could see of it behind the blood - looked raw and swolen. "S'if it aint big 'nuff as it is." he grumbled morosely. Then he winced. It still hurt to move his jaw and so Dale cupped his hand's into a bowl and caught water in it, splashing it against his face and gently wiping away some of the blood around his nose and jaw with his hands. A few more splashes and he started on his neck, wiping away most of the blood there. He'd start on his hair later, he thought. Now he knew there wasn't much for it without his shampoos or conditioners and he wasn't ready to go back to his room yet. After all that new room mate guy was still in there, probably still cradling his pelvis from where Dale had kicked him; the thought caused a smirl to play about his features. He hoped the guy was hurting for hitting him.
Dale had kissed the guy hoping to make a point. He had meant what he said too, that Dale was more of a man than he'd ever be and more of a woman than he'd ever get. Dale reconed that the guy probably hadn't had a decent snog for ages. Probably why he freaked out so much. Nah, the guy was a total homophobe. But who cared if this guy thought Dale was a queer or not? A lot of people did, but then they got to know him. There wasn't a good chance of these two getting to know each other Dale was certain of though. Shit, would they even be alright to sleep in the same room as each other?!
Dale mentally reminded himself to buy a flashlight... or a baseball bat to hide under his pillow for protection. After most of the blood had been washed from his face, Dale didn't think it looked as bad as he thought it would. Sure he had welt's everywhere, and you could still see in places where the blood hadn't quite washed off but it was a marginal improvement. With a deep sigh, Dale walked back out the door of the shower room and down the hall back towards his dorm, before striding through and sitting on his bed, cross-legged and looking directly at the other guy, who was still lying on his own bed. He knew th e inevitable question, or demand of where Dale had taken his clothing would arise and he decided to try and take it in his stride. His brow creased, but it wasn't quite a frown, more of a curious stare. He sat there for a long moment before swinging his leg's back onto the bed and laying his head back down on the pillow, directing his gaze back towards the ceiling. It was a pretty nice ceiling. You know, the best thing about it was that Dale could count all the little cracks and rough spots, making out little picture's and pattern's. It helped with his muse, sorta, to look up at it. Giving him idea's of what to draw, or paint. He wondered what to paint next.
There was an awkward silence now. Dale's arms rested against his flat pale stomach, he could see the blurry outline of the new guy in his peripheral vision but made to attempt to look at him. His big blue eyes were instead focussed on the roof above him, and he was having to try his best to restore his pulse rate to it's normal pace. Dale was feeling very uncomfortable. No matter how much he had tried to tell himself that this would all pass, and blow over soon, he was finding it more and more unlikely. "You're a nonse." Was all he could think of to say.[/color][/size] Everything is going wrong but we're so happy! STATUS ;; COMPLETED\ TAGS ;; DALE, DEAN
|
|
|
Fix You
Mar 22, 2010 1:30:57 GMT -5
Post by Dean Parsons on Mar 22, 2010 1:30:57 GMT -5
Dean heard the guys words and laughed even though it hurt and from his place on the bed facing the wall, he turned around and looked at the guy who was being a whining little bitch, he threw back his response "Trust me if it was broken you would know, it would be an improvement and since there is no improvement it cant be broken" He said with a chuckle. He closed his eyes and rolled back over it had been a long day and he hurt, trust him to get into a fight when he was already in pain and to get hit in the same spot, good one Dean. He heard the guy move toward the bed and then leave the room, he heard the door click shut and turned back over he looked around and noticed that his bag was gone.
anger grew on his face and he looked over at his roommates side of the room and made a decision, there was no point trying to chase after him, he was hurt and wouldn't be able to do allot to the guy right now, and besides he had a thought that he could do something worse to this little priss of a bloke. Pulling himself up off the bed he walked over to the priss's side of the room and began picking up some of the hair products and strengtheners, there were allot of hair products here, shampoo and conditioner, gels, hair spray, moose, and more. Dean picked them up and walked to the guys bed, laying on his stomach he pushed aside some of the things clogging up the underneath of the bed, he placed all the guys hair products at the back close to the wall and then pulled the rest of the junk back up around it so even if he looked under he would have to pull it all apart to find his things.
Dean stood up and looked at the guys now empty desk, he wondered how long after the guy got back it would take him to realize his stuff was gone, he was looking forward the little girl hissy fit he expected from the priss of a guy he was supposed to share a room with. He smiled at himself, he wasn't going to chuck a hissy fit over the guy taking his bag, no he planned on getting even, everything he had with him was in that bag, and from what little Dean had seen of this guy he guessed that it would be his hair products that he would care about the most.
He had barely walked back to his own bed and laid down again facing the wall the way he had been when the guy walked out, when he heard the door open, the guy walk in and the springs of the other bed and they were sat upon, Dean stayed quiet he waited for the reaction from the guy but he obviously hadn't noticed the fact that his hair products were gone at least not yet.
"I suggest you go and get my bag, and i expect to find everything in there and in perfect condition or you wont be seeing your precious hair products and strengtheners again."
He spoke as he stayed facing the wall, he decided that sure he could wait till the guy noticed for himself but he wanted his reaction now so he thought it would be more fun to mention the guys things knowing it would make him look.
Word Count ;; 594 [/blockquote][/size]
|
|
|
Fix You
Mar 27, 2010 8:27:36 GMT -5
Post by Rosey on Mar 27, 2010 8:27:36 GMT -5
Let's Dance to Joy Devision and celebrate the irony...[/b][/color][/size] Dale lay on his bed with his hands behind his head, tapping the toes of his shoes together as he pretended to ignore the guy lying on the other bed across the room. He could see that the other guy was upset, he'd managed to chance a furtive glance in his direction as he'd loped back into his dorm room. But Dale suprisingly didn't feel very upset. Surprisingly. He'd been treated this way before; countless times before; and he almost expected it from other guy's. In Dale's mind, this guy had never had the power to hurt him (verbally obviously, because physically Dale's face hurt like Hell!) and after all, you can only really be hurt by those you care about. Dale wanted to be the bigger man and not give this guy the satisfaction of thinking he was going to get the better of him. Because he wasn't. It was a homophobic attack and Dale wasn't gay. He was androgynys. There was no point in trying to explain it to this nitwit 'cause that'd take a bleeding life time..
It's because you kissed him and he decided to sucker punch you like a coward, he reasoned, you'd be upset no matter who it was. The fact that it was a homophobic attack doesn't mean anything…
Then Dale realised that the guy was talking. With that new haughty, arrogant tone of voice that Dale was probably going to have to get used to hearing for the remainder of the year. The dark coiffured one's large eyes widened when the word's registered in his ears, and he paled. "You didn'." He said unbelievingly, sitting up from his prostrate possition and leaning on his palms to stare at the guy as though he'd just walked in on him shooting kittens. "My hair needs special treatmen'! There are two different shampoos, and then my volume-boosting conditioner, and then my shine serum... It's bad 'nuff you think I'm a poofter, but this is victimisation, you know. This is bullying."
"And your bleedin' clothes are fine ya sook. If ya wannem back just crawl to the shower stalls yourself. All this negative energy is messing with my inner harmony." Dale turned his head away from the other guy and fidgeted uncertainly for a moment, where would he have put it all? If the guy dared harm any of it then there'd be big trouble for sure. He sure as heck wasn't going to let this guy think he could just take over. Where did he get off telling Dale what to do all of a sudden? Not on my friend. Not on.
The spring under the matress sqeaked quietly as Dale got up from the bed, and crossed the room toward's his own set of drawer's. He couldn't take the torture of not knowing what was gone and what wasnt anymore and opened up the drawer's, slid open compartments, and rummaged through the contents. He knew instantly by glance what was missing. The drawer's closed with a snap and he crossed the room, sitting back down on his own bed and frowned at the guy thoughtfully, who had his back turned to him. "I sugges' you tell me wha' your big issue is here, 'cause your comin' off as well agro here."Everything is going wrong but we're so happy! STATUS ;; COMPLETED\ TAGS ;; DALE, DEAN
|
|