#Alas Justine your death was in vain

[idarran-of-ulivo]

[phil-and-a-corgi]

highschool bandfic in a nutshell - chapter 2

chapter 1

rating: t/m (swearing and also irene’s writing.)

word count: um i dont know a lot ( 2083 )

summary: uhh we have that on the first page

here if you want to read it here then here you go materinos(doesn’t include behind the scenes bants though

here read it on google docs yeah i know so professional(this one has behind the scenes banter)

SECOND CHAPTER (2)

(written by renee @dan-and-a-shibe - pete’s pov)

after finally putting on my eyeliner (i had no time to do it this morning and i looked like a garbage can filled with shit on fire) i hopped off the sink counter. sighing and putting my MAC charcoal liner back into my bag.i dabbed just a wee bit of eyeshadow because WHY THE FUCK NOT. the bell rang, signalling that i was late for first period. why do i let a bell, a mere beep for 5 seconds control where i go and when i go. it just shows how even though everyone tries to be themselves that everyone ends up being dragged by the trends of society. so i decided to sit in the background and look through tumblr. on my phone. ten minutes of scrolling through poetry and kittens. i should get going now. so i did. i walked into mr armstrong’s class.

“mr wentz may i ask why you’re late.” he asked, jokingly in a teacher’s voice. “sorry it’s required to ask that” he whispered, winking at the class.

“i know why, because he was busy being a GAYLORD”(dh quote) that try hard kid justin bieber teased.

“ok justin please explain how your bleached hair isn’t gayer than his amazing eyeliner.” mr amstrong retorted back as the whole class “oohed” at justin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(written by Irene - @feckboy69-aol - frank’s pov)

Fuck Ms. O-Conner. Fuck her class. It's the only class that I don't have with my beloved Gee and the rest of the guys I hung out with and the only class where the teacher actually expects me to do shit. Like okay, maybe there’s some nice chicks in this class and I sit in the back next to a window where I can stare out of and think of my beloved, beautiful Gee, but so what? Lorde’s (yeah, that's what her preferred name was, what a joke) a fucking bore. Honestly, so would this school be, if not for my beloved, precious, beautiful Gee and the shit going on with Ryan and Beebs’ tea drama. Oh, that and the whole of Beaver’s crowd; it was fun watching them get owned by literally everyone here.

Anyway, English class. Lorde Bitchface was screaming about the importance of “putting emotion into your poems” and using “meaningful symbolism” to give your writing “depth” like the edgy bitch she was, so I just tuned her ugly mug out as usual, grabbing my notebook and turning to a fresh page. I gripped the #2 mechanical pencil in my hands and let my mind wander and think about my beloved, adorable, precious, and beautiful Gee, which wasn't very hard. I thought about the last time we had made out (in the bathroom near Bitchface’s class in the stall that no one used) and let my hand draw what I thought. I never was a good artist, but my beloved, handsome, adorable, precious, and beautiful Gee had taught me a couple things (some about art, some about other things), so I had become pretty good. I concentrated for a good 5-7 minutes on the drawing, making every line count, and then smirked to myself at the finished masterpiece. It was stunning; well Gee was.

“Ah… Mr. Iero, why don't you tell us?” said Lorde Bitchface, looking at me with that stupid fucking teacher look that Mr. Armstrong had copied perfectly from her and would use to joke around. But I, being me, tried to pass it off with a smartass answer, something I always did that got on the bitch’s nerves.

“See now I would, but I don't do things like that for free,” I said, giving her a mischievous look. Several girls in front of me (except Hayley, that sassy lassy, who just rolled her eyes and went back the crap that Bitchface was teaching) turned around and giggled, playing with their hair in a vain attempt to try and get my attention. They knew about Gee and me; the whole school did (that's a story for another time), but they still thought they could get me. But I played along anyway, winking at them and giving them the Frank Iero Famous smoulder. The girls seemed impressed, but Bitchface clearly wasn't, her ugly face (okay, I knew she wasn't ugly, she probably got a lot of action actually with that figure, but I despised her so fuck off) morphing into one of disgusting bitch anger, her nose and eyebrows scrunched up and her lips pursed into a tight, white line. I knew she was about to blow, when a kid sitting all the way up in the front who I didn't even know existed until he spoke his next words (that would definitely be his last if I ever found him alone in a dark hallway, by the way) said, “He's being inappropriate and drawing repulsing images in his notebook, Ms. Lorde. I saw him when I went to sharpen my pencil, Ms. Lorde,”

He then turned around and smirked at me, his wavy ginger hair following him as he did, an aura of smugness about him that I did not appreciate.

I saw the anger drain from Lorde Bitchface’s face and have it replaced with a look of calmness that was actually more efficient in scaring people than her anger.

Fucking asshole, I thought, momentarily losing my cool before reminding myself that I was Frank Iero and bitches wished they could kiss the ground I walked on with their crusty-ass, chapped as fuck lips.

So when that fucking whore of a teacher gave me detention, I simply smiled and said a cheeky, “Can't get enough of me as it is, Lorde? Not that I can't see why you wouldn't want more of this,” running my hands through my hair, knowing that this was definitely gonna make the ugly hag throw a fit, which would be far more amusing than if I had just accepted the offer of yet another detention.

It worked; I got sent to the principal's office, but like hell I was actually gonna go there. I smiled to myself as I walked outside the door, giving Bitchface a cheeky salute as I went out, not staying long enough for her to scream more shit at me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(written by renee @dan-and-a-shibe - ray’s pov)

geez well this is frank's seventh detention this week and it's only wednesday. how is that even possible. well, lorde's most recent detention got him a saturday detention for the whole day and i knew he was supposed to go hang out with gee. gerard would be heartbroken if he couldn't make it to their next date. they have date night in saturday. i had to convince lorde to get him out of detention. she hadn't hated me yet, so i had a chance. while we were supposed to be writing deep poetry, i went up to her desk.

                 “hey um, ms lorde, uh sorry about frank. his family isn't really okay at the moment, and well, he's been acting up. more than usual. his parents have been really hard on him, especially with the detentions. i hope you can withdraw the multiple detentions from the past three days. don't mention this to him, or anyone else. please.” truth was that franks family wasn't doing to well but they weren't being hard on him, they didn't care anymore.

          lorde paused for a moment. “ok then, ill withdraw the detentions. only for this week. why don't you go down to the office and tell him this detentions are withdrawn.” i knew i could do it. most ladies have more vulnerable emotions, they’re more sensitive. and that's why women are so great. and now he only had three after school detentions..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(written by Irene - @feckboy69-aol - tyler’s pov)

It was lunch for the Sophomores, so as usual, I was trying to find my best fren Josh Dun. It was strange, he wasn't anywhere to be seen, when usually I could spot his vibrant colored hair in any crowd (it was a bright yellow today). So when I entered the large circular shaped cafeteria, and didn't see him, I started to panic a bit.

He was there in the morning, we walked here together, he was there in first period, I saw him when I went to go to the bathroom, he was there during third period because I was there with him, oh no, he got kidnaped… he got bullied he's in a locker somewhere stuck I have to go, he's hurt I have to sav-

“Tyler!” I heard someone scream from behind me, interrupting my very important thoughts about Jishwa. I turned around in pure panic, ready for the news that was going to be solemnly sorrowful; news about Jishwa’s untimely death.

Alas, it was only Jenna Joseph Black, a pleasant surprise at that. I smiled in spite of my internal mental struggle, watching Jenna smiling and running up to me. The cafeteria was now starting to fill up, with cliques of people banding together in their own respectable tables, as usual.

Jenna grinned at me, giving me a friendly greeting. I didn't want her to get worried for my stupid overthinking habit. She wrapped her arm around my shoulder, leading me to our lunch table which consisted of me, Jish, her, Hayley (Kiyoko) Adam, Jack, and Ryan. The others weren't there yet, me and Jen usually arrived early, Josh not too far behind us, with the rest walking together, usually bringing some mundane news about whatever they considered important in their lives. Usual conversations involved Jack and his frens coming in with their loud but awkward selves, Hayley not too far behind them, her hands crossed in silent disapprovement at almost everyone and everything. They all would then come in to our table, interrupting the meaningful conversations that Jen, Jish and I would be having, usually conversations about the possibility (or plausibility) of whether coconut sharks could or not exist, (if they did exist, where would they be swimming?) with talk about the latest song from so-and-so’s band or whether Ryan and Brendon would ever get back together, or at least make up.

But that's not what exactly happened today because Jen, ever the one to notice and care, gave me a caring concerned look that depicted exactly how much she cared and was concerned about me and Jish, her eyes gleaming in the bright-lighted cafeteria, her mouth morphing into a depressing frown.

“Where's Jish?” She inquired, the proportions of her face perfectly in line, to the point where she made everyday curiosity look like it was the epitome of perfection, suddenly standing up, probably (or plausibly) realizing that if Jish were here, he would be right now.

I slouched further into my seat, gulping, my throat feeling dry, “I don't Jen… I don't know…”  

[xfulmen]

&& Hell was brought upon him.

↯ █ 全能ライトニング

      Calamity was brought up to humanity thanks to the Alvarez empire. All the Guilds had joined forces, in order to eliminate the enemy. Every single person--- every single mage was fighting for their survival. Fighting to see another day, fighting to live, fighting to protect what’s important to them. Not one person was sitting in the sidelines, notiwthstanding the graveness of their current condition. Giving up was not an option. Getting rest during such horrid occasion, was out of question. 

      It started off with Fairy Tail as the prime target. Precisely, what was hidden with the basement of the clamorous premises. A power beyond comprehension, and even with the exegesis given by Mavis Vermillion, was still hard to imagine what kind of power is this. What kind of power is Fairy Heart. The only overt thing was that it held gargantuan significance to the black wizard known as Zeref. And even attempting to think of the consequences that could transpire if such power would be bestowed upon him, was enough to apprehend everyone, let alone motivate them to stand as an obstacle in his way, from obtaining such prowess. 

      But for now, he had to deal with those recognized as foes, right in front of him. Numerous soldiers accompanying one of the Spriggans, had surrounded the incarnation of thunder. Of course, they were nothing but mere ants compaired to his power. Hence, releasing an amount of lightning in order to strike them, was more than enough for the time being. Besides, he had to concentrate on fighting the potent mage that stood in his way. One that Laxus already despised, considering the fact that he was the one who had attacked the Thunder God Tribe, leaving them in an injured and vulnerable condition. In his books, anyone who would dare to lay a hand on his most trusted comrades, is the equivalent of signing a contract with death. 

      He was able to fight him as an equal, thus far. However, his body wasn’t in the prime condition that it used to be, due to the inhalation of the magical barrier particles. They have done their effect, and his internal organs took severe damage from it. And it didn’t help that at times seizures will strike him out of the blue, leaving him immobile. And in this confrontation--- in this conflict, every single second mattered. But alas, he wouldn’t let such disadvantage to work against him. His willpower and tenaciousness were far stronger than anyone could imagine. And him, standing on his ground was the perfect illustration of the point. 

                          ----?! 

      He could sense a familiar aura in a close proximity to him. Whilst he had no time to waste in aimlessly glancing around, he found it unavoidable not to do such act. And so, with the right opportunity given, he turned his head around, giving a brief scrutiny at his surroundings--- 

                              . . . only to spot them. 

      It was none other but his most faithful comrades. He noticed a green haired one, fighting alongside with a beauteous female, and an eccentric individual. It was none other but his team known as Raijinshuu. He would admit that it was impressive to see them on their feet, considering how much damage they took from his current opponent. Not to mention was concerned he felt for seeing them covered in so many bandages. It was apparent that they are far from being healed. But just like him, their stubbornness was also one of their strong points. He was proud of them, undeniably. 

                                            ----- !!!! 

                                                                  ---- Crap!!! 

      He had just rendered his attention to his enemy. Obviously, it wasn’t the brightest idea to lose his concentration off of him. And as a result, a ferocious punch made contact with his stomach. In a second thereafter, deep crimson liquid was expectorated from his mouth. In a moment later he was blasted meters far away from the Spriggan, ending up making contact with a concrete wall, eventually breaking it due to the force. 

      For a few seconds, he found it hard to breath, but there was no time to contemplate of such. Dirt was decorating his body, as the garment of his upper body was ripped to shreds. In addition, there was no trace of his characteristic habiliment that was normaly placed upon his shoulders. But such matters didn’t count much this time. And so, he started moving his limbs, ready to stand up on his feet and continue his fight against the other---- 

                        . . . only for immense pain due to the poisonous particles to hit. 

      It wasn’t the first time that such situation took place, but the timing of it couldn’t be worse. His structure felt paralyzed, unable to make the most simplistic movement. What’s more? His current opponent was about to lanch a very powerful attack towards him. An attack that might be able to bring him to his end. Is that it? Is that how far he can go? No--- he needed to make it through. He needed to continue this fight. He needed to be part of this war. He needed to defeat the alchemist, as a comeback and even revenge for his actions against the Raijinshuu. 

                                       Come on---- 

                                                    MOVE---!!! 

                                                          . . . . .

                                                                            . . . . ? ?  ! 

                                                         . . . Wha-- what?? 

      The element of surprise and even shock, stood on a high pedestal, due to the sight that he had to behold. Three familiar figures stood in front of him, facing the Spriggan. Confidence was displayed upon their faces, not to mention within their body language. But why? Why would they go such lengths on protecting him? The enemy in front of them was about to release a very dangerous onslaught, ready to eviscerate him------

                                      . . . No. 

                                                    Impossible. . .

                                                              This can’t be. 

      Realization started hitting him, slowly and painfully. Eyes widened upon acknowledging he reason as to why they would stand in front of him. As to why they took part in this fight. They are here to protect him. That’s their duty. But such duty was taken on a whole other different level, to such unimaginable lengths. No--- it can’t be. His most faithful allies are standing as an obstruction to said attack, so that they can protect their leader. That’s what it is. That’s the realization that started occupying his mind. One that can be portrayed as harsh reality. Or, considerably, his worst nightmare. And before he was able to yell at them, to tell them-- order them if more so, to evade this attack, to move out of his way, their voices interrupted such task.

                       “We are the Thunder God Tribe. Your personal bodyguards..                                                                    And we will always protect you, Laxus.”

      Identical complexions of orange widened the moment such words echoed cranial walls. It was unclear whether their voices made such statement in unison or it was only Freed Justine, but it didn’t matter. There was truth to those words, but taking in them in such literal matter was beyond comprehension for the lightning dragon slayer. No--- he had to save them. 

             COME ON!!!

                                     . . . ----- THIS BODY OF MINE!! 

                                                                                         . . . MOVE ALREADY!!

      But everything in his mind went pure blank, because of what transpired afterwards. 

      His body felt numb, trembling slightly. His most susceptible flexor, his heart, felt like it stopped beating. His lungs felt like they gave up on him. His parted lips felt completely dry. Everything went numb, due to what took place. In a large flash, he was blinded for a few moments. Smoke everywhere, giving him a blurry vision, but only to change within a few moments thereafter. Was that some sort of an explosion? Who knows. Who cares. Other things held priority.

      Once he was able to see again, the fist thing that he spotted was what he could call---- his worst nightmare. No traces could be found coming from the Raijin Tribe. Nothing but the landscape that they were on, was in destroyed condition. Nothing. Nothing resembling them could be found. He attempted to yell for them--- just to get a sign of hope. 

                        BUT IN THE END, IT WAS FUTILE.. 

      They weren’t here anymore. Their presence was gone. No mattered where he would avert his gaze in search of them, no matter how much he tried to sense their magic, he had to acknowledge the truth.

                                                                  THEY ARE GONE.

      A logical explanation would be that they used their remaining magic to block this attack, so that they can protect the lightning mage. But thinking rationally was an impossible task to happen. 

            Wait...                         ----Wait--- 

                                                     IT CAN’T BE!!! 

                 IMPOSSIBLE---- 

                               . . . IT CAN’T BE!!

                                                NO... 

                                                                NOT THIS -------!!! 

                                                                                                  NOT LIKE THIS!!!

      His pattern of breathing grew heavy. Every respiration that would come out from his mouth seemed painful. He was on his knees, trying to accumulate the situation in his mind. But it was not worth. The minute this happened, nothing else was worth. 

                                                                                       HE HAD LOST THEM.

      He was incapable of protecting them. He was unable to protect those that he considered as his dearest comrades. Those that had accepted him from the very beginning for who he is, regardless of his past self. They have sworn to follow him and have his back. They have promised to become his bodyguard and protect him no matter what the cost would be. But this? This is beyond his imagination.

                                                THIS IS WHAT HELL LOOKS LIKE.

      A variety of remembrances crossed his mind, circling around these three individuals. 

     Reminiscences of their first encounter,                                                their first mission,                                                           their first training session,                                                                  their first night out,                                           all their good memories,                                                          their laughters,                                                                   all the times they shared together

                             ----the first time where he actually felt that he belonged somewhere. 

                                                                 HE FAILED THEM.

      Ineluctably, salty drops were formed on the corner of his eyes, eventually strolling down the flesh of his cheekbones, creating a soaked path upon his skin. Such sentiment was unnecessary during war, but it was unavoidable. Regardless how strong Laxus is portrayed to be, he was also a human being. A human being with emotions. And right now, he found himself unable to understand the current situation---- more likely, accept. 

                                     THEY ARE FOREVER GONE. 

                                                    HE HAD LOST THEM FOREVER. 

                             AND IT’S HIS FAULT FOR NOT BEING STRONG ENOUGH. 

      He remained still, completely wide open for anyone to take him down. While he had to fight for their sake---- He had to fight so that their sacrifice won’t be in vain. He couldn’t. 

                                                                      HE WAS A FAILURE.

      Nothing else mattered at this point. Whether his enemy will attack him again and eventually end up his life, to Laxus it didn’t count anymore. While the war was still ongoing, his own has ended. 

                                              HE HAD LOST. 

                                                              HE WAS LOST. 

                                                                           LOST IN HIS OWN EMOTIONS.

        AND THE LIVES OF HIS MOST PRECIOUS COMRADES WERE THE RESULTS OF HIS OWN WEAKNESS. 

                                                 OF HIS INABILITY TO BECOME STRONGER. 

      And the memory of the disappearing from his sight for an eternity, will be the worst memory of his life. A remembrance that had left its scar that shall never be healed. 

                                             HELL WAS BROUGHT UP UPON HIM.