[FM]: Application
Mar. 6th, 2006 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
idontreallyspar1) What is one thing you have learned from your past?
Tom flew back as the fist that flew caught him, sending him flat on his back. Pain erupted through his spine and his head...a pain he welcomed, to a degree. He ought to have seen this coming a long time ago, but what reason did he have to think that this would be easy?
Rough hands caught the front of his shirt, then grunted as he was slammed against the wall. Narrowing his eyes, he glowered at his attacker...Bill? Phil? Hell, he didn’t even remember the guy’s name anymore...only that he didn’t like the guy. And Bill/Phill didn’t like him right back.
Figures that he’d walk right into the bar where his ex’s new soulmate was knocking back a few.
Tom finally made a move as if to speak, panting heavily as he raised a hand. “Seriously, something has to be done about your breath.”
“Oh yeah? How about this?”
As Bill/Phil smacked him again, Tom had to wonder just how many more of these guys he was going to run into. It had been three years, but apparently *she* couldn’t leave well enough alone. Bad enough she’d snapped him in two, emotionally, now every guy she fucked seemed to think that Tom was the bad guy. Then again...he wasn’t really surprised.
The dull smack of his body hitting the table, then the floor, didn’t really surprise Tom any more than the outbreak of the fight had. Couldn’t be the bad breath remark he’d made...maybe it was the comparison of Bill/Phil’s dick to the toothpick on the olive in his martini...nah, that couldn’t be the reason he got pissed...
“Jackass.”
Tom lifted his head just enough to watch Bill/Phil straighten his coat, turn and walk out the door. //Yeah...see if you’re laughing when she fucks *your* life up.// he thought to himself.
By now, Tom knew he was just another notch in his ex-wife’s belt, and after three years he was okay with that. If nothing else, it had taught him that trusting anybody but himself was a recipe for disaster. The past always came back to bite you in the ass, especially when it came to women.
Rolling over on his back, he stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to get his vision to dim from pain-filled red to normal when a figure appeared, looming over him.
“Thomas Grace?”
Tom blinked, frowning curiously...or as curiously as he could, as bad as his head was pounding. “Who wants to know?”
The man over him just stared, features inscrutable and hard. “Let’s take a walk.”
Tom thought only a minute before accepting the hand that was extended down to help him up a second later. Whoever he was...he liked this guy already.
2) Describe a dream that you've had. How did the dream make you feel?
I don’t dream much...guess I’m just not a real imaginative guy or something. I don’t usually remember them enough to talk about them afterwards...they have some common threads, though. When I dream, nobody has a face. Every person I talk to...features blur and lines fall away until I can’t see who I’m talking to, but I *know* who I’m talking to. It’s just...something in my gut. Still, it spooks me a little when I can’t look someone in the eye...even if it’s in my own head.
My dreams make me feel detached, too...out of place, alien. They happen in locations I’ve never been, and they’re wildly disproportionate. I might be in a room no bigger than an office cubicle, and so far up I’m lost in cloud cover, or in a field filled with grasses twelve to fifteen feet tall. Might be funny if it were a cartoon, but it’s always so goddamn real it scares me.
You want to know how my dreams make me feel? They drive me into work...the only thing that distracts me. It’s funny, but I never do dream about work. It’s like a safe zone, if that makes any sense. Ain’t that a fucking riot...I feel safer dodging bullets than I do in my own head.
Lotta times these days it drives me into the gym down at APO when I’m pulling a late one...usually I end up going to the mat with Gibson. She’s a nice girl...she’s different. She’s a techno geek in her bones, and a rookie if I ever saw one...but she’s got an edge. Just needs to be honed.
Know how I know? I dreamed the other night...and her face was the only one I could see.
Tom flew back as the fist that flew caught him, sending him flat on his back. Pain erupted through his spine and his head...a pain he welcomed, to a degree. He ought to have seen this coming a long time ago, but what reason did he have to think that this would be easy?
Rough hands caught the front of his shirt, then grunted as he was slammed against the wall. Narrowing his eyes, he glowered at his attacker...Bill? Phil? Hell, he didn’t even remember the guy’s name anymore...only that he didn’t like the guy. And Bill/Phill didn’t like him right back.
Figures that he’d walk right into the bar where his ex’s new soulmate was knocking back a few.
Tom finally made a move as if to speak, panting heavily as he raised a hand. “Seriously, something has to be done about your breath.”
“Oh yeah? How about this?”
As Bill/Phil smacked him again, Tom had to wonder just how many more of these guys he was going to run into. It had been three years, but apparently *she* couldn’t leave well enough alone. Bad enough she’d snapped him in two, emotionally, now every guy she fucked seemed to think that Tom was the bad guy. Then again...he wasn’t really surprised.
The dull smack of his body hitting the table, then the floor, didn’t really surprise Tom any more than the outbreak of the fight had. Couldn’t be the bad breath remark he’d made...maybe it was the comparison of Bill/Phil’s dick to the toothpick on the olive in his martini...nah, that couldn’t be the reason he got pissed...
“Jackass.”
Tom lifted his head just enough to watch Bill/Phil straighten his coat, turn and walk out the door. //Yeah...see if you’re laughing when she fucks *your* life up.// he thought to himself.
By now, Tom knew he was just another notch in his ex-wife’s belt, and after three years he was okay with that. If nothing else, it had taught him that trusting anybody but himself was a recipe for disaster. The past always came back to bite you in the ass, especially when it came to women.
Rolling over on his back, he stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to get his vision to dim from pain-filled red to normal when a figure appeared, looming over him.
“Thomas Grace?”
Tom blinked, frowning curiously...or as curiously as he could, as bad as his head was pounding. “Who wants to know?”
The man over him just stared, features inscrutable and hard. “Let’s take a walk.”
Tom thought only a minute before accepting the hand that was extended down to help him up a second later. Whoever he was...he liked this guy already.
2) Describe a dream that you've had. How did the dream make you feel?
I don’t dream much...guess I’m just not a real imaginative guy or something. I don’t usually remember them enough to talk about them afterwards...they have some common threads, though. When I dream, nobody has a face. Every person I talk to...features blur and lines fall away until I can’t see who I’m talking to, but I *know* who I’m talking to. It’s just...something in my gut. Still, it spooks me a little when I can’t look someone in the eye...even if it’s in my own head.
My dreams make me feel detached, too...out of place, alien. They happen in locations I’ve never been, and they’re wildly disproportionate. I might be in a room no bigger than an office cubicle, and so far up I’m lost in cloud cover, or in a field filled with grasses twelve to fifteen feet tall. Might be funny if it were a cartoon, but it’s always so goddamn real it scares me.
You want to know how my dreams make me feel? They drive me into work...the only thing that distracts me. It’s funny, but I never do dream about work. It’s like a safe zone, if that makes any sense. Ain’t that a fucking riot...I feel safer dodging bullets than I do in my own head.
Lotta times these days it drives me into the gym down at APO when I’m pulling a late one...usually I end up going to the mat with Gibson. She’s a nice girl...she’s different. She’s a techno geek in her bones, and a rookie if I ever saw one...but she’s got an edge. Just needs to be honed.
Know how I know? I dreamed the other night...and her face was the only one I could see.
