Killjoys fic snippet woooo
Oct. 9th, 2010 09:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maryOrigin stories
by Mary
Summary: That was the best end to any fucking fairytale Frankie had ever heard.
Back before, when they lived in a dank dark city instead of the bleach-bone clean of the zones, when they slept in boxes in cold laneways instead of by the warmth of bonfires, they used to sneak into movies sometimes.
It was Frankie's eleventh birthday and he wanted to see a monster flick, something with Frankensteins and Draculas (this was back before that word stopped being a monster it was safe to be afraid of, back when it was like rollercoasters and acid trips).
They found one with ghost pirates and they snuck in while the trailers rolled and listened to the rest of the crowd eat candy corn and popcorn all around them while they tried to quiet the rumbles in their bellies so they wouldn't get caught out.
The movie was called Pirates of the Caribbean and was full of clean skies and water, endless water, which was as much a fantasy to them then as it is now out in the desert. Frankie didn't much like the idea of so much water; it made him uneasy to think of skeletons lurking under the surface, fish that would nibble on dead flesh.
But the end of the movie, oh shit, the end, with the main pirate dude standing on his ship and looking out all dreamlike, saying Now, bring me that horizon. That was the best end to any fucking fairytale Frankie had ever heard.
After the movie they went back to their space, the little patch of filthy real-estate the four of them'd grabbed in the warmth beside a subway vent in an alley nobody from the daytime world ever bothered to look down. They'd marked it with their sign, the little lightning-bolt spider that Gerard had drawn there once upon a time and which they'd each refreshed with new chalk and paint as needed. Eight legs, scuttling along together: FrankieGerardMikeyRay, one little creature full up with venom and lightning and the determination to survive.
Gerard said lemme draw you something for your birthday, Frankie and Frankie thought about it. He wanted a boat, like the boat in the movie, that they could point at the horizon. He wanted wind and freedom and warmth and sun. But he wasn't sure about the water, so maybe not a boat.
Draw us a car, Frankie said to Gerard, and none of them had any way of knowing that he was sealing in their future with his words, writing their fates and fortunes in the air. A fast one. One we can go anywhere in.
And put our spider on it. Make it ours.
by Mary
Summary: That was the best end to any fucking fairytale Frankie had ever heard.
Back before, when they lived in a dank dark city instead of the bleach-bone clean of the zones, when they slept in boxes in cold laneways instead of by the warmth of bonfires, they used to sneak into movies sometimes.
It was Frankie's eleventh birthday and he wanted to see a monster flick, something with Frankensteins and Draculas (this was back before that word stopped being a monster it was safe to be afraid of, back when it was like rollercoasters and acid trips).
They found one with ghost pirates and they snuck in while the trailers rolled and listened to the rest of the crowd eat candy corn and popcorn all around them while they tried to quiet the rumbles in their bellies so they wouldn't get caught out.
The movie was called Pirates of the Caribbean and was full of clean skies and water, endless water, which was as much a fantasy to them then as it is now out in the desert. Frankie didn't much like the idea of so much water; it made him uneasy to think of skeletons lurking under the surface, fish that would nibble on dead flesh.
But the end of the movie, oh shit, the end, with the main pirate dude standing on his ship and looking out all dreamlike, saying Now, bring me that horizon. That was the best end to any fucking fairytale Frankie had ever heard.
After the movie they went back to their space, the little patch of filthy real-estate the four of them'd grabbed in the warmth beside a subway vent in an alley nobody from the daytime world ever bothered to look down. They'd marked it with their sign, the little lightning-bolt spider that Gerard had drawn there once upon a time and which they'd each refreshed with new chalk and paint as needed. Eight legs, scuttling along together: FrankieGerardMikeyRay, one little creature full up with venom and lightning and the determination to survive.
Gerard said lemme draw you something for your birthday, Frankie and Frankie thought about it. He wanted a boat, like the boat in the movie, that they could point at the horizon. He wanted wind and freedom and warmth and sun. But he wasn't sure about the water, so maybe not a boat.
Draw us a car, Frankie said to Gerard, and none of them had any way of knowing that he was sealing in their future with his words, writing their fates and fortunes in the air. A fast one. One we can go anywhere in.
And put our spider on it. Make it ours.