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Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 14, 2007 18:54:59 GMT -5
She was sitting the tent. A cigarette in one hand. A bottle of water in the other. Christ it was warm today, and the booze was well out her reach. Some people apparently were worried about her 'mental health' and they thought she had a 'drinking' problem. Well it wasn't like drinking was all she did was it? She made music too right? Well she played her bass on a stage and made a fucking idiot of herself while she was drunk. A sigh and she landed back. How had she ended up looking after the merch stall?
She was having a peaceful moment until she heard someone shout her name. Rolling her eyes it was her manger Toby. No doubt yelling about something she had one again. "Brodie you fucking daft cow!"[/i] "Here we go again..." She mumbled before reaching down below the table and swapping her water bottle with her super secret emergency bottle of vodka. "What the hell is this about you punching a photographer?"[/i] "He got in the way." "In the fucking way?!"
With out a word Brodie got up and began walking away. She wasn't going to deal with this fucking shit. "Brodie! Get your fucking ass back here you fucking twat!"[/i]
Brodie was about done with this shit. She was sick of all of it. What was the point when people just came to watch there band hoping she would make a mess of herself. To the people here she was a joke anyway. She was sure not one of them liked them for their music.
She was going to turn around and yell at her manager when she felt herself walk in to someone and land with a thud on the ground. "Fucking watch it!"[/size]
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Post by Patrick Stump on Apr 14, 2007 19:46:06 GMT -5
NO ONE WILL EVER SEE THINGS THE WAY I DO NO ONE WILL TRY
Another day.. The same ol' thing. Calmly he strode between the merch tents, glancing in them every once and a while to see if anyone important was there, or perhaps, just maybe, he could actually find a shirt that he liked. That'd be pretty nifty. The sun was beating down, and of course, Patrick was wearing a black Vans t-shirt, rather tight black jeans, with a pair of white and orange sneakers- that of course, didn't match, at all. But that was Patrick for you, fashionably challenged. A soft smiled tugged his rather pale lips and he cut between two tents, standing in the middle of the long path, people scattering around at the tents. A few teenagers came up to him, begging for autographs like puppies for a treat. He blushed and of course agreed to sign, his cheeks becoming quite red- not only because of a slight bit of embarrassment, but from the heat of the sun pounding on him. After handing a younger girl her lyric book back, with of course his signature scribbled on with silver sharpie, he pulled his Clandestine black hat down, casting a slight shadow over his face. He didn't feel like even trying to find the Fall Out Boy merch tent, and to be honest he didn't really feel like baby sitting it either. And so- he continued his way down the long stretch of pavement, heat radiating off the concrete. It'd be the death of him someday.
With a sigh, he gripped his water bottle a little tighter before getting stopped by another small crowd of teenage fans nagging for his autograph, and a picture. Ulgh, this'd never end would it? Though a bit irritated, he smiled and politely took each item and each marker, quickly scribbling his name onto the merchandise, then handing it back as usual. A pose with a few girls, a few flashes of a camera, and most of them left- except for one girl he'd actually started a slight conversation with. Of course it was about guitars- what else?- and she'd made a few comments on how much she loved Fall Out Boy, and admired his singing and.. all the usual things. The typical things you'd hear from a fan, on a typical day walking through the merch tents.
He glanced up, making an odd face at the sound of one, or perhaps two, people screaming at each other. Swearing, and he made a face before turning, preferring to stay away from arguments and the whole angry, fighting, pissy moods all together. Again he was stopped, by only one person this time, and he signed a magazine before the girl was running off to catch up with her friends, giggling on her way. There he stood for a bit, before gasping slightly and stumbling forward a few steps. Quickly, after regaining his balance, he spun around, his gaze falling on the person who'd run into him. He squinted his eyes when she swore, but really didn't think much of it. Perhaps she'd been one of the people in the argument, and he guessed he wouldn't be in a quite-so-happy-mood either if he'd gotten sworn at. "I'm really sorry- I... I didn't see you.." He pulled his hat down a little further, his cheeks feeling hot again as he blushed. Quickly he held a hand out to help her up, whether it was really his fault or not, she sure as hell made him feel like it was.
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Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 14, 2007 20:03:56 GMT -5
Are you feeling like a social tool?
She looked up at him. Oh she was sure she knew that face, plastered all over teenage magazines and the like. So this was the infamous Patrick Stump from that band...oh what were they called? Fall Out Boy. Ah yes that was it. That was the band. She looked him up and down. A slight look of distaste on her face as she looked at his hand and then to his face.
Who did this guy think he was? She didn't need help from some prissy boy band moron. Why the hell did they get all the attention when her band were living off the negative publicity that her drunken arrests brought them. How did they have fans loving them for there music when what did she have? A label that hated her, thought her as a burden and told her she was fat. She had worked her ass off to get his. No wonder she was drinking so damn much! It was any wonder she hadn't tried top herself though she would never admit to thinking about it. No Brodie didn't have emotions. She was just the drunken stoner bassist from 2nd*R. She didn't have anything that deep. Just a pretty drunken face.
"Brodie I swear to fucking god you come back here now!"[/i] Brodie looked behind her at her screaming and swearing manger who was going insane with fury then at Patrick and his hand. Unusually she reached out and took it, pulling herself out. The bottle of vodka still clutched in one hand. "Brodie! I will drop you! I swear to god well drop you fat drunken ass!"[/i] Oh she wanted to laugh. She gave Patrick a small smile. Brodie didn't feel sadness...at least the world didn't think that. "Kiss my fucking ass! Stuck your contract up your ass! Your a shit manager! You don't care about the music you care about your pay check! We are not a commercial tool!" Well that was him told then. She turned back to Patrick and surveyed him for a moment. Ok...he didn't have the best fashion taste in the world. And he wasn't at all her type...mind you not like she had a type anyway. "Brodie! Brodie Dhonchaindh!"[/i] She rolled her eyes and sighed looking at Patrick and simply suggested; "Lets get the hell out of here." Even being around him was better than being around her manager. And that was saying something. [/size]
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Post by Patrick Stump on Apr 14, 2007 20:30:05 GMT -5
THIS MAKES ME FEEL THAT I'LL NEVER BE QUITE NORMAL THIS MAKES ME ACT LIKE I'LL NEVER GET OUT ALIVE
He glanced to the ground and sighed, a slightly sulking expression coming over him as she appeared to be quite displeased with his offer to help her onto her feet. Still, he held his hand out, figuring it was the most polite thing to do at the moment. He felt quite odd for staring at her, but he couldn't quite place where she was from. He'd seen her somewhere before... Perhaps in the merch tents, walking around, hell- maybe even on stage. He really wasn't sure... Name.. Name.. God damn, what was her name?! He glanced up at the person who was charging over, yelling- screaming- pretty much making a fool of himself infront of all the fans, the teenagers, roaming around from tent to tent. Though most didnt notice, there were a few who pointed or giggled, but really nothing more than that. Ah- Brodie... Brodie.. Brodie.. He still couldn't place the face with a name, but figured more would come to him later.
When she grabbed his hand he helped her, gently pulling her up off the ground. He offered a rather nervous smile, and he glanced to his shoes, pale cheeks burning to a deep red. He bit his lip as they swore back and forth at each other, becoming quite uncomfortable in their little war zone. He really wasn't exactly sure why, but he never liked fighting. Never has, never will, he just prefered peace between people. It was just a lot more pleasent that way. Brodie Dhonchaindh. THAT WAS IT! That was her name. He chuckled slightly, feeling rather stupid at the moment. Brodie Dhonchaindh... How could he have forgotten that. He'd seen 2nd*R on stage once, maybe twice. They were decent, in his opinion, and of course he'd pretty much blown off all the horrible things he'd heard about Brodie and the rest of the band. Most he assumed were rumors passed from your typical trouble making teens. Perhaps he was wrong? Well, this'd be one of the few times to really find out. He sneered slightly, and nodded at her suggestion, seeing fit that it was best to leave.. and gawd he hoped that guy wouldn't follow them. To be honest, he really didnt feel like putting up with it either. He turned and shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing up and down the long stretch of merch tents. "Got anywhere in mind?"
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Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 14, 2007 20:44:00 GMT -5
Scream At Me Until My Ears Bleed.
Looking around she rolled her eyes slightly at her phyco manager who was near enough about to have a seizure. God anywhere would be better than here. She took a swig of the clear liquid, she felt it burn her throat. God it felt so good. So good to feel something other than the arguing and the yelling. She started off in the opposite direction of her own merch tent. Well she wasn't meant to be leaving and to tell the truth she wouldn't have if he hadn't started on her. It was his own damn fault. Brodie just hated being told what to do and when the label started getting all bossy. Well you can guess what happened. All we need to say on that matter was that Brodie was not happy. Not in the least.
She felt as if everything was going wrong. Which just drove her back to the bottle even harder. She was secretly hoping she would get a few lines in tonight - make the night a bit more lively and maybe cause some trouble. That was the way to do it. Cause a riot! A riot so fucking big that no one would escape its power! That would be her legacy. God she hoped she would die in a riot! The perfect way to go trashed out your face while breaking some shit.
She beaconed for Patrick to follow. Not before giving her manger the finger and sighing. Jesus these people were idiots. Since when had it become about who she was and not how she played. Brodie was a natural bassist. She had it in her blood. She picked up the instrument and took to it like a natural. Just...no one got to see that. She was sick of being over shadowed by her own actions. yet that was what everyone expected so she had to go with it. Had to live up to that. It was stupid really. A horrid cycle but that was it way it went.
"So..." She began. Well between you and me Brodie quite like d his band. They were different, they had attitude and a soul in their music. Which was something she thought most bands these days lacked. Though its not like she was going to tell him that! Brodie didn't have opinions. "Saw you on stage a while ago. I must say you got a good voice." Well that was different from admitting she liked them
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Post by Patrick Stump on Apr 14, 2007 21:03:48 GMT -5
I'LL GET TO ACTING, MAKE YOU ALL BELIEVE ME I'LL GET TO FAKING, SHOW YOU ALL HOW TO GRIEVE
Once again, he felt a bit at ease, finally not getting swarmed by fans or in this case- chased by a screaming manager. He watched the fuming man get closer, and began to follow Brodie once he'd realized that she'd started walking away. He glanced at the bottle as she drank from it, crinkling his nose at the scent that descended from it. It definitely didn't smell like water, thats for sure. Hesitantly he took a sip of his water, quickly flicking the cap back on, then gripping it quite tightly in his hand. He was quiet, and quite frankly he liked it that way. He hated the noise and the busy-ness, he hated the constant attention from the media and the swarming attention from the fans. He just wanted to make music. Was that such a crime? The interviews, the photoshoots, he hated it all really.
He glanced over at her when she commented at their stage work, and he really wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want to be rude and just say nothing, cause.. well.. that just wasn't like him. He blushed again, smiling slightly and glancing toward the ground, the bill of his Clandestine hat was now covering part of his face. Slowly he looked over at her, a bit shocked at the moment, finally realizing that he was talking with someone who wasn't six inches taller than him. He smiled again, and blushed, quickly glancing away when he realized he was staring. "Oh- uhm.. Thanks." His smile grew a bit wider and he watched his feet for a moment, a bit hesitant to look over at her again. "I saw you guys on stage a few weeks ago. You were really goin' at it with that bass." He held onto his water a little tighter as a wave of people passed by them, a few bumping into his arm, just walking by like he hadn't even been there. He sneered and side stepped, becoming a little bit closer to Brodie, but avoiding the crowds. He wasn't very fond of crowds, quite often he got extremely nervous when going on stage infront of all their fans. So many people.. All eyes on him, Pete, Joe, and Andy... He was always self concious about how he looked, what he did. It just made him fidgety and giddy.
He could live without the photoshoots and the glam. It just didn't matter to him. He could be up on stage, or in some kid's dirty basement, playing for people who didn't have a clue who he was or why he was there. He'd still be happy. He'd still be making music, and thats all he really wanted to do.
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Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 14, 2007 21:19:28 GMT -5
I'm takin' heat just for you.
Brodie glanced sideways at Patrick A slight half smile half smirk. It was the closest she got to being nice these days. Another swig of the burning liquid she felt herself relax. Oh yes Brodie was really a much nicer person than she was drunk as shocking when that was. Well...she was nice enough if you didn't get on her bad side and that was easy to do. She kept walking, down in to the quiet area behind the tents before turning and looking at him.
Had he just complement their music?
She looked shocked for a moment, then covered it quickly and looked around for a place to chill. She climbed up a stack of rigging sitting only half a meter or so off the ground. She swung her feet, looking at the ground for a moment before answering him. "Eh thanks I guess. My bass is my anger management." She said with that half smile as she took another drink. "I'm afraid to say it takes the worst of my temper."
Truthfully Brodie had a horrid temper. She had a short fuse as well that wasn't replaced every time it blew. More like once in a blew moon when she had a unusually good day. And theses were few and far between now. She wondered how much this guy had heard about the band and secretly wished he hadn't heard all that much, she didn't want him to think she was just some lousy drunk junkie who acted like a spoiled brat. Though she was far from spoiled.
She stole a look at him before she looked up at the sky. Why was she here? Oh yes...to keep her band happy. She was seriously thinking of leaving, though that would mean she had no job no money and the band would fall apart and she couldn't do that to the others. She couldn't do that to Deryck. He had been the one to introduce her to her bass, he was almost like a big brother. She couldn't throw that away. She'd stick with it for them.
Though people were starting to wonder how long it would before she destroyed herself.
"Nothing beats a stage."
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Post by Patrick Stump on Apr 15, 2007 19:20:40 GMT -5
LET'S SAY WHAT WE NEEDED TO SAY SINCE WAY BACK WHEN WE SAILED OUT INHIBITIONS
Patrick chuckled slightly and rubbed the back of his neck as they started walking behind the tents, trying to avoid the swarms of people. Carelessly he hooked his right thumb into his jeans' pocket, his water bottle tapping against his leg with each step. He sighed and turned on his heels as she sat on top of the stack, and he drummed with his water bottle, on his leg. He smiled, closing one eye and using his left hand to block the sun from his eyes. "I haven't played bass in like, forever... probably like- a year or more." He glanced around, watching people walk by the tents for a moment, a small group of giggling teenagers catching his attention for a second before he glanced back to Brodie. He'd heard rather strange things about her and her band, of course the tales of her being drunk and all of the legal things against her. Most were lies, as he'd figured much, and honestly he hadn't really believed the whole drunk thing, but right now- he wasn't quite sure what he believed. It was obvious that what she was drinking, though clear, wasn't water. It reaked, of course- like alcohol.
He turned sideways a bit, nostrils flaring, trying to clear out the burning smell of alcohol from his nose. He never found alcohol appealing, nor drugs, hell, he didn't even eat meat. Just music. Everything music. He just liked singing and writing and playing his guitar. No crime there. "Ehh.. I guess.. I mean- like..." He sneered slightly at her stage comment, and like said before, he'd almost prefer playing for ten kids. They'd done a show for only a few kids before, and the energy was incrediable. A few, or a few hundred kids singing back at them, it was just all incrediable. They had the fairy tale dream band, and a lot of people hated them for it. Of course Patrick knew that. He knew quite a few of the things that people said about them, the slash and the other nasty things. But all four of them loved music, and of course the music that they made.
It didn't really make much sense to him as to why people would hate Fall Out Boy the way they do. No auto tune.. pro tools... But maybe it was jealousy that drove people the way they are. He shrugged to himself and looked up at Brodie, sighing slightly. "I dunno. I mean. I, like... I mean, I always kinda missed the shows in the ugly local basements. Sure no one like, knew who we were really, but it was still.. amazing." He nodded in agreement with himself before looking around, people conversing within their own little groups, making their way from tent to tent, carrying bags of shirts and other merchandise. Good ol' fesitval.
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Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 15, 2007 19:33:44 GMT -5
To smash the silence with the brick of self-control
A smile broke out on her face, that was until someone walking close by caught her attention, she shot them a glare. Oh the daggers had been drawn. A moment of silence caught Brodie and her opponent. They just stayed where they were, drawing daggers at each other like it was a game. The first person to give up would lose. And Brodie wasn't one to give up. The other girl broke off and Brodie smirked, giving her the finger and a muttered curse under her breath; "Next time I'll kick her fucking face in - the stuck up cow."
She turned her attention back to Patrick and smiled slightly. She took another swig of vodka, looking at the now half empty bottle. She sighed and knew deep down she would finish this one soon enough and would have to go in search of more. Sad fact was she knew practically everyone in the beer tent from previous festivals and gigs, well how sad was that? She took another swig of the burning liquid. Oh it tasted so good. Tasted so bad at the same time. It burned and at the same time made everything fuzzy, she didn't call it drinking, it wasn't getting drunk. It was getting comfortable.
"Oh I know the feeling!" She said waving a hand about. Oh yes there it was, hitting her system though it wouldn't be the last to. not by a very long shot. "I miss playing in shitty bars to three people standing up the back with their arms crossed." She told him, almost pointing at him. "I miss the days where I could get shit faced, an there wasn't a photographer there to take a shot!" She said with an almost melancholic smile. "Now everyone just sits there, just waiting for me to smack someone in the face, so I just give em what they want you see." Oh yes, drink was a necessity not a treat or once in a while thing. She needed it.
"Mind you now I just got people throwing bottles at me so all is good. There seems to have been a spate of stage bottling these days." She said in obvious reference to what had happened with...whats his name from Panic! At The Disco and Pete Wentz. "Ha ha! Whats the name of your band again...Fall...something or other." She asked him when she realized she was already to drunk to remember it.
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Post by Patrick Stump on Apr 17, 2007 14:14:51 GMT -5
I HOPE YOU ACT SO MUCH STRONGER THAN I IMAGINED HONESTLY IT GETS YOU EVERY TIME THAT I WANT IT TO
He wasn't sure what to do. Once her eyes locked onto someone else, he glanced their way, hoping that they'd just leave instead of starting something up. The purpose of the festival was for everyone to relax and have fun, and evidently, that wasn't Brodie's idea of fun. He crinkled his nose at the scent of the alcohol on her breath, it wasn't strong, but it was definitely noticeable when she talked. He knew what was coming, and it'd be quite the.. sticky situation. It never appealed him to get drunk, he'd just make a face and walk away. Music was just.. so much better. The idea had come to him many times to say something, or perhaps just leave. Her, being drunk, didn't seem like quite the good thing to be around, maybe instead of punching the other person, she'd try to punch him- or perhaps the entire thing was just asking for trouble. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it just wasn't quite working that way. Patrick fidgeted, tapping his foot for a moment before shifting his weight in his stance. He was getting nervous, obviously, and the fact that it was visible made him even more nervous. A cruel, cruel cycle.
He jumped back a step, maybe in a bit of surprise when she began swinging her hand around. Her words began to slurr, and it was obvious that she wasn't quite "sober" any longer. He swallowed hard and swiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Blast the horrible sweating, it was quite gross... and made him smell bad... but it was gross even without the smell. For the most part, he was ignoring most of the things that she'd said, he was more focused on what to do. He was so, so nervous, and just the fact of her being "under the influence" was stressing him out horribly. If something happened, to her, or himself- he felt responsible for it. But he hardly knew this girl. Before now, he'd seen them on stage once or twice, but hadn't really stuck around to meet the band. The shadow of guilt swept over him as the rumors he'd heard about Brodie began to creep through his mind. Maybe they were true. He sighed and did a bit of a side step, shaking his head slightly. He felt horrible, whether it was for saying that those people were wrong about her, or maybe it was because he was now believing what he once said was just a rumor. Either way... He just felt like shit now.
"F... Fall Out Boy." He stuttered slightly, as the question had caught him a bit off guard and he sighed, glancing at her for a moment. He took a back step and stared directly at her, a rather blank expression coming over him. "Are... Are you drunk?" An entirely serious question, and perhaps he sounded a little mad, but he really didn't mean it. He was just quite baffled, and a bit irritated maybe, but typically he didn't get mad at anyone. He avoided war for the most part. And at the moment, this situation appeared to be calling for a bit of it.
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Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 17, 2007 14:38:30 GMT -5
Are You Locked Up In A World Thats Been Made Up For You? [/b] She told him, her voice didn't portray any of the pain, sadness or tragedy that she held. "Fall Out Boy! Thats it! Gah I'm such a moron some times." Brodie said shaking her head. She was the biggest moron of them all. She was about to say something to him when she heard someone call her name. "Oi! Brodie!" Brodie looked round, spotting who it was. "Oh...shit...oh crap...oh fuck." She muttered as the guy stormed over. "You must be the biggest bitch in the world Brodie!"[/b] He yelled at her waving a piece of paper about. " You called us shit! You said we're crap and we can't play live. You seriously think I'm going to take criticism from a fucking Junkie!"[/i] Brodies eyes narrowed slightly. She hated that word - junkie. "Look I said what I said and I stand by it." She stated simply, god she didn't feel like getting in to another fight, she was sick of the whole thing. "Look at you! Your already half fucking drunk! Fucking disgusting, your a parasite."She twitched visibly and downed the last of the vodka and squared up to him, dispute the fact she was almost a foot shorter. "Excuse me. Watch your tong.""Why should I treat you with any respect? Your just a junkie. A dirty, dirty junkie. How can you even call yourself a musician?"[/i] Brodie sighed she was starting to get sick of this. She punched him without thinking about it. "Fuck off before I kick your cunt in you little shit head wanna be, your not fucking punk! The Sex Pistols were punk. Your not fucking deal with it!"Well..this was a turn up for the books. [/color][/blockquote][/ul][/size]
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Post by Patrick Stump on Apr 17, 2007 15:16:14 GMT -5
I WANT YOU TO REMEMBER ME WHEN THEY TELL YOU THIS IS SO EASY, SO EASY
He blushed at her words. Why? He wasn't quite sure. Again- he swallowed hard- his throat becoming quite dry. Nonchalantly he took a sip of his water, taking a deep breath as he twisted the cap back on to the bottle. What to do... What to do... He was becoming even more nervous, beads of sweat rolling from his forehead. He wiped them away with his hand, then casually rubbed his palm on his pant leg, ridding it of the wet sensation. He turned when she, and someone else, began yelling again, and honestly, he wasn't sure if he could put up with it now. She acting like a scared dog, like the world was gonna attack her, and she had to bite before it bit her. His jaw dropped when she swung, and he winced as her fist collided with, evidently her "enemy"s, jaw.
Without thinking he darted forward, jumping in front of Brodie as the other man retaliated. "Come on! Stop!" His voice wavered, and to be honest, he was a bit scared. Being the same height as Brodie, this person was huge compared to him, and were obviously entering a fit of rage from being wailed in the face. He didn't blame them, for the most part. Patrick shoved Brodie out of the way, trying to keep her away from this other person, perhaps trying to keep her out of trouble. Just as he turned back to face the man, a searing pain shot through his head, and he yelped slightly, backing up a step. His head throbbed and he pressed his palm an inch or so below his temple. He gasped, simply out of shock, and pulled his hand away, his fingers coated in blood. Again, without thinking, he lunged forward, jabbing his elbow into the person's chest, driving them backwards a few steps. Blood slid down his right cheek, a bruise already swelling in his cheek and around his right eye. He panted slightly as the man got up and hit him in the face again, a lighter punch, as it appeared that Patrick had knocked the wind out of.. this person. It was strange, he didn't even know who this person was, and for the most part he didn't exactly know who Brodie was. Yet he was fighting with this guy, and protecting her. A bit sad. Pulling his fist back, he aimlessly swung, pain running through his knuckles as it collided with the person's cheek bone.
He swallowed hard.. and everything was a blurr until they were away from the tents, away from everything, he wasn't exactly sure where they were. But it was him, Brodie, and he was running as fast as he could. Suddenly, Patrick stopped running, stumbling a step forward. He collapsed to his knees, coughing slightly, blood running down his cheek of which was horribly bruised. More blood streaked from a cut on his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, another area the sharp object had caught him. Perhaps a ring? nails? He hadn't really paid attention. His stomach jerked and twisted as things began to spin. He coughed, trying to use his trembling arms to brace himself on the ground.
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Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 17, 2007 16:00:10 GMT -5
Now You See Me Now You Don't Don't Ask Me Where I At. Because I'm A Million Miles Away.
[/b] She asked sounding almost frightened. It was strange. In a serious situation she could be vaguely responsible. "Patrick, sit up." She told him gently as she wrapped her hoodie sleeve around her hand and held it on to his cheek, soaking the blood up. Well it was a old hoodie anyway. She began to take control of the situation, Patrick was probably one of the very few to have ever seen her like this. "Look at me hon. How many fingers am I holding up?" The age old test. She held up three fingers and waited for his answer. She just hoped he didn't have anything serious going on.[/color][/blockquote][/ul][/size]
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Post by Patrick Stump on Apr 17, 2007 16:48:45 GMT -5
I LOVE THE WAY THAT WE LAUGH UNTIL WE CRY DANCE UNTIL WE DIE
Everything was spinning, so fast... so fast.. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, his arms and knees trembling beneath him, both out of fear- and pain. He coughed, his breathing becoming quite irregular. He gasped when she touched him, and his eyes shot open, a lost expression coming to his face. "Wh.. W... Where... a-am I..?" The world began to distort and double once more, and quickly his eyes snapped shut. His elbows buckled beneath him and he fell completely to the ground, rolled onto his side. His entire body started to quiver, the mixture of fear and pain nearly becoming unbearable. "Where... Whe-.. am I?" Terror filled his voice, but he kept his eyes closed. Repetitively he tried to get up. Sit up- stand up, anything, but he just collapsed, his trembling knees and hands unable to support himself.
He laid on his back, even the darkness from his eye lids where whirling in circles, making him nauseas. Opening his eyes slightly, he rolled over, no longer facing Brodie, and vomited in the grass. He spit a few times, trying to rid himself of the taste, and slowly fell into his original spot. Another cough, and he opened his eyes, staring at her hand. "F.. five? No... seven?" He squinted his eyes before snapping them shut, his stomach lurching, and he tried to force everything back down. Most of the right side of his face was swollen and discolored, blood smeared on his cheek, quite a few spots of blood on his clothing.
His breathing was abnormal, his chest jerking with a deep breath, but they were mostly quite shallow. A slight gasp, and he trembled with the exhale, his hands shaking as he grabbed the grass next to him. Strange, but true, he almost hoped that by holding on, it'd make everything stop spinning... everything stop being so topsy-turvey, just freeze all motion... make the pain stop. Yeah... make the pain stop.
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Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 17, 2007 17:09:36 GMT -5
Sedated Nights To The Bar Room Fights.
[/b] She hoped he was listing to the words and not the fact her voice was shaking because she was actually terrified that he was hurt, that there was something seriously wrong. Normally she wouldn't have minded but this was Patrick one of the only people to not turn his nose down at her...and he was Pete friend. Then he laid down and she felt a wave of panic. "Don't close your eyes, don't go to sleep." She told him forcefully though her panic probably came across more as anger, everything came across like that though. "Patrick don't close your fucking eyes." She snapped at him as she slipped off her hoodie and folded it up sitting it neatly on the ground before taking a hold of his shoulders. "Patrick talk to me you muppet or I swear I'm going to start singing Dance Dance off key." She warned as she moved him in to the recovery position much more gently than people would think her capable of. She made sure he was ok, his head resting on her hoodie as she put a hand on his shoulder and began fishing for her mobile phone. her manager had put the emergency first aid number for the site in her phone just encase anything happened, god forbid that she actually need it. Something for once was coming in handy. She searched though the phone book on her cell frantically as she talked to him; "Patrick, count to ten for me ok. Just keep talking to me." Jesus first thing she was doing after this was having a nice long strong drink![/size][/color][/blockquote][/ul]
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