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Thread: when being a god goes wrong ( deacon jones )

  1. #11
    Inactive Member basket of hearts's Avatar
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    "T'fuck off me, y'fuckin' twit! I wanna fuckin'see'im!" There was thrashing going on behind that blue stitched curtain and the shadow of a well muscled man. Deviline had rushed just as soon as she had gotten the phone call, leaving Jacob at home with Rosa, her maid. And it wasn't hard barging through the labyrinth of rooms and bulks of patients to find the roaring Londonaire and his automatic suggestion of anger.

    The curtain was pulled back by a nurse who had been guiding her (though really, they were just making sure Deviline didn't scratch anyone's eyes out) and Deacon was snarling his rage at a doctor who seemed pale faced with fear. "Deacon!" Deviline shrieked, finding the man in an arm sling and bandages criss crossing over his shoulder where that bullet hole was, and bandages circling around his upper knee.

    Deviline's voice was enough to sooth the savage man, who had red eyes from fatigue and surely, tears, and was jittery with confusion. The doctor cleared his throat and left, leaving the two to encounter their griefs together.

    "Deacon ... The hell happened? Are you al--"

    "No! I'm n'fuckin'alright! They won't let me see Gunner!" The violence of his mouth was enough to keep Deviline at a distance. She knew this was a combination of things. Mostly, the heartache of Deacon figuring his best friend could be under the ground earlier than him. She held up both hands and then pushed some of the ice blonde from her face.

    "Deacon, shh. Calm down. Please." When Deacon finally glanced at Devi, she had the same, identical red eyes as he did. The tears were more with her than him, and she had even left the racoon rings of mascara around her eyes. "I spoke to the doctor at the front desk. He said Gunner's in ICU and no one can see him. They are doing everything they can, honey. Please.. please, just sit down." She was eyeing him from head to toe. Deacon took her words one at a time and finally was defeated and sunk down into the chair in front of him. Slightly sloppy in his crumble while his hand (from his good arm) scooped up to brush against his face.

    Deviline watched this with disbelief. She knew Deacon would only react this way with three people. Gunner being one, obviously, her and Jacob. The rest of the world could rot and Deacon would never show an ounce of emotion, yet now, he was a result of true love for those closest to him. She slunk closer to him and knelt down, reaching to brush the pad of her thumb against his jawline.

    And that's when Deacon lost it. The sobbing started lightly, and then ended up being loud and throaty. The murmerings he sent out were interesting, yet hard to understand.

    "Come on ... I'm taking you home to Jacob."

  2. #12
    Inactive Member basket of hearts's Avatar
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    "Y'gonna make it, mate."

    Gunner's body just laid there. The pressure from the breathing machine rising his lungs every so often. Oxygen mask fogging up when the exhale of warm air. Though no movement was indicated aside from the pulsing jump of the EKG machine.

    Against better judgement, there he was. A pile of royal bones to sit in an uncomfortable throne with the epitome of fatigue scrawled across his face. Chameleon eyes of hazel could change from simple browns and greens to more highlights of golds and azure blues. Though now they were just dark holes. Sockets stained in black and blue beneath the eyes from the little (to no) sleep he had received.

    The hours were building up, crawling ontop of one another as the hand of the clock ticked by. Nurses sometimes were spooked when they would enter the room, doing hourly checks on the downed Gunner.

    He didn't blame them. He looked like shit. Bandaged up and in slings, using a cane to help him walk with those wrappings around his knee. Though he wouldn't leave. Not for them, not for anyone.

    "Funny'ow this works, eh? Y'get t'see me on m'death bed, an'ere I am, watchin'y'on yours." Deacon muttered, trying to implicate a grin that just wouldn't grow. He shifted in the chair, leaning foreward slightly. The cut edge of his voice was just downright gruff. Tired. "This'ow y'felt, mate? Like y'were loosin't'only person in t'world that gave a damn?"

    He paused for a long moment, looking at the lines and rivers of dents in his palm.

    "Y'know y'are like a brother t'me, mate. Been there through thick an'fuckin'thin." Teeth grabbed for his bottom lip as he felt it give a quiver. He broke it with a sudden flash of a smile to Gunner's comatose state. "Y'member that time when y'were with Marla an'I was with Beth, an'we took'em t'that strip club. Told'em it was a sports bar." A steely chuckle was grated from his teeth. "An'they got so pissed off that they jus'left us there. We'ad t'walk'ome, all drunk."

    The memory was fresh in his third eye and a moment to relive it passed over him. Clutching his hand to the back of his head. Scratching there as there was no pulse.

    Abbadon knew better. His practical choice of keeping silent with Deacon on such a verge of a breakdown was an excellent decision.

    After another two hours of Deacon just sitting there, mumbling referances to their past, he was told that visiting hours were over. He had spent the whole morning there. He felt lost when he left knowing Gunner was still back there.

  3. #13
    Inactive Member basket of hearts's Avatar
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    hey God
    why are you doing this to me?
    am i not living up to what i'm supposed to be?
    why am i seething with this animosity?
    hey God
    i think you owe me a great big apology.

    terrible lie

    hey God
    i really don't know what you mean.
    seems like salvation come only in our dreams.
    i feel my hatred grow all the more extreme.
    hey God
    can this world really be as sad as it seems?

    terrible lie

    don't take it away from me.
    i need someone to hold on to.
    don't take it away from me.
    i need someone to hold on to.

    hey God
    there's nothing left for me to hide.
    i lost my ignorance, security and pride.
    i'm all alone in a world you must despise.
    hey God
    i believed your promises, your promises and lies.


    <center>terrible lie</center>

    <center>Statham050</center>

    you made me throw it all away.
    my morals left to decay.
    how many you betray.
    you've taken everything.

    terrible lie.

    my head is filled with disease.
    my skin is begging you please.
    i'm on my hands and knees.
    i want so much to believe.

    i need someone to hold on to.
    i need someone to hold on to.
    i need someone i need someone.
    i need someone to hold on to.
    i give you everything.
    my sweet everything.
    hey God


    <center>i really don't know who i am.</center>
    <center>in this world of piss</center>

    <center>Nine Inch Nails: Terrible Lie</center>

  4. #14
    Inactive Member basket of hearts's Avatar
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    I'm going to have to take action if you consider this, Deacon. You will not like the man I will make you into if you keep up with this insane option.

    The words. They had been yelling at one another back and forth in the interior of his mind. Echoes of baritone along the soft walls of his skull, pounding away when the secret explaination got heated.

    His hands were covered in blood, though he had no wounds. The hot liquid splatter painted his body like ink blot images to be qualified as birds, women, doors, anything the mind could contort them to be. The drizzle wash of rain did little to pull the current of red away from him. He was smeared in it.

    I refuse to be treated as if I have done nothing for you, Deacon. I have not once pressured you into the savagery that I wield until now. And look what you have done.

    Deacon's eyes were his own again. The black fog that traced around the pupils rippling away to let free the deranged presence of hazel pigmentation. They focused beyond the blur, beyond the rage that was settling.

    The body he saw was barely a body now. Torn to shreds. Ripped limbs that dangled by the strings of tendons and sinew. Scattered pieces of organs littered the damp sidewalk. He swore he saw the heart beat just one last time as it laid away from it's home which was now just a shattered mess of ribs and left an open cavity.

    He realized he was naked. Standing there with no clothing to mark him as a man. He looked like a beastial being, sworn off from Heaven and cast down into a hell he had created with his own, bare hands.

    Hands. He looked at them again. They shook and felt heavy, as if the victims soul was weighing his palms down.

    Do you see, Deacon? Do you fucking see! I have kept you alive all these years, and now you decide that you do not need me anymore? You find help in that Thomas boy, that kid who thinks he can rebuild your body? Faith is in me, Deacon. And with out me, you are nothing but a fucking corpse of a man who should have been buried seven years ago!

    Rain drops began to tackle against his broad shoulders. The panned out view of his chisled figure could have once been attractive, handsome. Now he looked like a killing rogue stuck in the alley with a body at his feet and the only witness' being the moon, stars, and the rats that infested the soft wood walls that caged him in. Was he breathing? Did he feel the pressure of oxygen in his lungs?

    It burned, and he released a scream that was a hybrid of a wolf's howl and the lunacy of a madman. It echoed, just like the voice.

    I am your fucking savior.

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