Log in

No account? Create an account
July 2006   01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31
Merlin - IDK my BFF Gwen?

Room to Breathe: This Isn't

Posted by shotaphile on 2006.04.26 at 16:13
Current Mood: chipperchipper
Current Music: Without You--Original Italian Cast
Well I promised a lot of people I'd get to another RENT fic, and here we are, and for once I didn't break my promise. W00t! This is all thanks to _breathtaken for staying up with me at all times of the night and letting me spend an entire day talking to someone who loves RENT as much as I do. This is for giving Anthony Rapp's solo album and encouraging me to stick to good old MarkandRoger for my first real fanfiction. This is for timing me when I left the computer to clean the house. This is for not knowing the difference between bluegrass and modern country.
This is for everyone taking my sarcasm so well. I hope I don't disapoint.

Series: RENT

Pairing: Mark/Roger

Spoilers: It's RENT, go see it. You'll love it, promise.

Warnings: SLASH. And semi-sex scene. Not full-blown sex scene because I can't write those. Live with it. And my language. Weird present tense format, be careful.

Rating: soft R or hard Pg-13, depending on what you fancy, I guess.

Room to Breathe: This Isn't

Mark isn’t a groupie.

Stale air and stale lines and Mark is hardly impressed with either. Just fix the sound system and leave with a little cash rolled into his socks, he’s not interested in becoming another fuck. He can’t remember what finally convinces him to stay; something about overseeing the feedback that he doesn’t believe for a second, but the singer buys him a drink and Mark decides that it really has been too long since he’s gotten drunk. And the Stoli keeps coming, and there’s no one waiting for him back home anyway. He stays.

He hates this kind of music.

The lazy hum of inebriation only serves to amplify the heavy drum of the bass, making his bones ache down to the very marrow. Mark distantly notes that at this level the amps will blow out before the next song is through, but finds little satisfaction when he’s proven right. It never has, and never will be a fantasy of his to rewire a speaker during the middle of a performance, after consuming copious amounts of alcohol; he pointedly ignores the self-assured smile thrown his way and a vague notion that the levels had been thrown out of whack for precisely this reason. Reconnected. Tested, too loud, but who really cares what he thinks anyway? Ears ringing, he somehow manages the stairs without falling flat on his face. Down another shot, no way he can make it home tonight. A firm grip on his arm, soft voice in his ear, Let’s get you home. But this isn’t his home. This isn’t his bed. This isn’t, and Mark can’t quite bring himself to care. Cold hands on heated skin and he doesn’t care. He stays.

Hates the kohl-rimmed eyes, plaid pants, piercings, the drugs.

Chapped lips and teeth clack and whimpers of pleasure become whimpers of pain--and is there really any difference--as callused fingers bruise, nails and teeth draw blood. Smoke and sweat and Mark aquires a taste for the nickel back studs on his tongue and a metallic sensation in the back of his throat. Buttons snap, zippers jam. That plaid is getting in the way. Boots snag in the blankets; pants won’t come off until those do. But who has the time to untie and unlace, just get that God-awful plaid out of the way! Mouth wanders, ear, cheek, neck, chest and OH. Kohl smears but who cares, more--MORE. Mark doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. He can feel the track marks against his skin. Rub raw scrape claw. Dilated eyes and rapid pulse that has nothing to do with here, now, him. Moan whine his SCREAM. He knows he should care. Don’t. Stop. But he doesn’t. Don’t. Leave. He stays.

Mark is anything but a groupie.

Tired and spent, Mark realizes he doesn’t even know his name. The pretty boy front man, he never cared to learn anything more. Still doesn’t care. Shoes on, doesn’t care. Shirt torn, doesn’t care. Find his glasses, check his socks. Breathe in. Breathe out. He can’t care, he just can’t. He leaves.

This is anything but love.

Notes: Okay, so this isn't it. It's a semi-series. That I honestly plan to finish. And once this is done I vow to write something happy because as my friend told me, "this fic is set to permanent scowl mode". So yeah, happy. Maybe something with a fort.


heart0nhersleev at 2006-04-27 00:01 (UTC) (Link)
that was wicked awesome!
keep up the amazing work!!
shotaphile at 2006-04-27 00:26 (UTC) (Link)
Ah, thanks. I was worried because the style was so weird. I told my friend to be as cruel as possible and she was pointing out SPELLING ERRORS!!
NOT what I was worried about, my computer HAS a spellcheck.
✖ dream of californication
rabidfangirlism at 2006-04-27 00:03 (UTC) (Link)
this is SO fantastic. I LOVE the way you wrote this. A+++!!!!
shotaphile at 2006-04-27 00:27 (UTC) (Link)
Woo, first time I've gotten an A in a while. ONLY time I've gotten an A+++, but I don't think teachers are allowed to give grades like that anyway.

I'm happy someone's happy with the style, it was hell to write.
.:~:.Devil With Wings.:~:.
virgo_girl86 at 2006-04-27 00:06 (UTC) (Link)
amazing! it was so...i can't even think of the right word! lol...it's perfect really! lol very wonderful!
shotaphile at 2006-04-27 00:29 (UTC) (Link)
*is very happy with the positive response so far*
Thank you very VERY much for your time.
there's no such thing as a bad abyss
formerlydf at 2006-04-27 01:27 (UTC) (Link)
Oh holy fuck goddamnit.


Okay, I'm... well, not good, because I don't think my heart has started pounding again just yet. You just... you... Oh, who am I kidding? I can't string together a coherent statement just yet. *deep breaths* Okay. Try again.

I absolutely loved this, more than life itself and maybe a couple of other things I can't think of at the moment.

It never has, and never will be a fantasy of his to rewire a speaker during the middle of a performance, after consuming copious amounts of alcohol; he pointedly ignores the self-assured smile thrown his way and a vague notion that the levels had been thrown out of whack for precisely this reason.

I love how you manage to mix the straight-forward and the poetry-prose; your whole style of writing is just amazing. I love Mark's voice, too; it's so angry and at the same time uncaring. It would leave me speechless, except when I really, really love a fic I'm the opposite of speechless. Which is why babbling!DF is the main course on today's menu.

Hates the kohl-rimmed eyes, plaid pants, piercings, the drugs.

That speaks for itself, yeah? I can't wait to see how this cold Mark becomes the one we know- this time, instead of He knows he should care., trying to stop himself from feeling. Kind of. Very very very thawed, at least. And how he goes from lovehating Roger and all his accoutrements to just plain loving him. In a really, really not platonic way, of course.

And, okay. What Mark feels may be anything but love, but what I feel for this story is most definitely, definitely love. And I'm going to hold you to that promise to write more, because I need more. *begs* It's better than any kind of heroin.


PS. Nothing wrong with "scowl mode" fics... *shifty eyes*
shotaphile at 2006-04-27 03:43 (UTC) (Link)
I loved the bit with drunk Mark fixing the speakers. I joked around with my friends and elborated and wove an entire STORY out of drunk Mark fixing those speakers because it was so damn funny to imagine him getting electrocuted because he couldn't tell the difference between a green and red wire.

I love this style, it's beautiful and has just the right feeling for what I'm trying to protray. The only problem is, finding the right words to PORTRAY IT. I went through so much editing it's not even funny.

You wanna see how the relationship advances? I, personally, am rather fond of how the story unfolds, what happens, why. This is probably the first time I've written a multi-part story and already known what was going to happen!
punkzebra at 2006-04-27 03:10 (UTC) (Link)

Wicked cool. Can't wait for more!
shotaphile at 2006-04-27 03:45 (UTC) (Link)
Okies...*gets right on writing more*
Grace's Notes  ♪
sweetestg_bye at 2006-04-27 03:18 (UTC) (Link)
awesome. i love it. just enough to let the imagination take control. very well written.
shotaphile at 2006-04-27 03:47 (UTC) (Link)
Uhm... it's just enough to let the imagination take control because that's as far as I am physically possible of taking it. I've tried countless times to write a sex scene beyond such descriptions but it never seems to pan out. My fingers just can't stand to put words like "penis" into a literary work, though I have no idea why.
But thanks for seeing it in a positive light.
(Deleted comment)
Girl Anachronism
lp_drumline7 at 2006-04-27 09:47 (UTC) (Link)

Love this, by the way!
(Deleted comment)
(Deleted comment)
(Deleted comment)
shotaphile at 2006-04-27 13:31 (UTC) (Link)
Mark and Roger aren't exactly peas in a pod. The filmmaker and the rockstar just doesn't flow. It's OBVIOUS they can't just mold together like it was meant to be and it really amused me to write about things Mark hates and show that they were everything Roger was.
I never tend to write anything in a normal style. That and sentence structure are, like, my drug.
And I am seriously tempted to put some sort of fort somewhere in the future. Really.
Yeah! Go 1999!!
(Deleted comment)
shotaphile at 2006-04-27 22:26 (UTC) (Link)
Trust your feeling, this is NOT a happy fic. Bad relationships and warped emotions and all that great stuff.

Mark=shitfaced drunk
...somehow I don't think they remembered a condom. Luckily, this is before April and sharing needles and the like, so Roger doesn't HAVE HIV yet. Yet.
lamia_cobriana at 2006-04-27 22:49 (UTC) (Link)
Wow. The way it's written makes you feel drunk too. Good job.

And sometimes it's funnier (however the hell you spell that; it isn't in any dictionary; fun + er) to have sex scenes that are, but aren't. Adds depth to a story more often then not.

I like it, though I agree with the "this fic is set to permanent scowl mode." Like Mark really doesn't have anything to live for, to hold onto. He's jaded, disillusioned. Which I love.

Hope to see more soon.
shotaphile at 2006-04-27 23:10 (UTC) (Link)
Oh good, that's exactly the Mark I was going for. I didn't want to write just another naive and blushing Mark, I wanted to show how he's already grown to understand that live sucks and exists merely for the purpose of screwing you over.

And I HAVE to ask what that icon's from, I've seen similar before and they always crack me up.
sheuzheiproih at 2006-04-29 06:14 (UTC) (Link)
I told you I'd be posting a comment here eventually. XD I can't believe you mentioned my "permanent scowl mode" evaluation of this ... But I guess that description is reasonably accurate, isn't it? You already know how much I hearts-stars-and-glitter over the writing style you use in this piece, but I resent (okay, not really) that remark about the spelling errors. Because spellcheck is crap. After all, you do realize that spellcheck spellchecks the word "spellcheck"? ... But never mind that ...
shotaphile at 2006-04-29 16:48 (UTC) (Link)
But spellcheck isn't a word, it's an action...
Previous Entry  Next Entry