Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > You're Not The Ordinary Type
You're Not The Ordinary Type
2 reviewsSociety mocks them. Thinks they're menaces just because they're different. Two teenagers join a small league with skills just like theirs to try and overthrow a billionare who is taking out their ...
3Exciting
Panic! Is possibly my favorite band ever, so it’s only fitting that I make a fic out of it!! Seriously. I‘m so obsessed with them that it‘s almost terrifying. ;) This is my first fic, and yes, it is multi chaptered, so you will have to wait patiently for updates. Still holding auditions for more characters. There will be eventual Ryden, don’t worry fellow band slash lovers!! Read and review!!
At 2:30 AM, a nineteen year old boy fretfully covered his ears with cupped hands, trying to drown out the pandemonium in the front hall. His eyes stung with fresh tears as he heard shattering glass and stifled sobs wafting into his room. The noise quieted down for a moment, and the boy tentatively removed a hand. A wet sound, much like somebody coughing up blood pierced the air, and the hand returned to his ears.
Ryan Ross’ father had not always been abusive. Before Ryan’s thirteenth birthday, his father was caring and compassionate. He got frequent haircuts, shaved, showered as often as humanly possible, and had a good paying job. He never seemed to leave his son’s side, much to his teenage son’s hormonal dismay. But now, all Ryan wanted was to have that clingy parental figure back.
Ryan’s mother died a couple weeks after he turned thirteen, and it broke his father. The cause of her death was unknown, which proved to be unsettling, since Karolyn Ross was extremely healthy in both body and soul. She was the perfect mother, and apparently the perfect wife; After the funeral, Ryan’s father lost his hold on reality. When Karolyn was alive, he never dared to touch an alcoholic beverage. It was always water.
Ryan’s father went over the edge, and he started drinking away the pain rather than talking about it. His hair lay in matted, greasy tangles, his face covered in stubble, smelled like he was living happily in a dumpster, and quit his job so he could finance his alcoholic cravings. He even shunned away his own son. Ryan was always told that he looked like his mother, with his soft chestnut hair, big honey- colored eyes, and tall, skinny build. This was too much for Mr. Ross. He didn’t want his wife’s likeness to be around him, so he drank even more to waver the image of his wife’s look- alike.
And now he appeared to be home from some bar. God knows how he got home- he seemed to batshit drunk to find the front door. Ryan wrinkled his nose as the metallic scent of blood filled the room, and tried to dispel more tears as he heard the loud footsteps getting closer to his room. Recently, Mr. Ross had been getting into bar fights, which seemed to curb his sadness for a time. He always lost, however, so he would take out the embarrassment of losing in public out on his son. And by the sound of his deep breathing, slurred mumbling, and frequent spitting to get rid of the rest of the blood, Ryan knew his dad would show no mercy tonight.
Ryan began to sob maniacally now. He had so many bruises and cuts already, some from his dad, and some from the razor that hid safely underneath his pillow. His dad put him in frequent pain, even when he wasn’t around. He quickly scanned his room to find a useful item to ward off his attacker. All he could see was clothes and his beloved guitar that sat on its pedestal. Knowing that he had no defense, he scrambled to the darkest and farthest corner of his room, praying that his father would not find him in his drunken haze.
Ryan held back a whimper as the door was flung open. The bottom half of his father’s face was covered with dry blood, the freefalling tears making tracks on his tired, unwashed face. His tiny eyes swept across the room, and unintelligible muttering trickled out of his mouth. Ryan crouched lower in his hiding space, wishing he could just disappear. Seeing he had nobody to take his anger out on, Mr. Ross grabbed the ugly brown lamp that sat on the dresser and flung it across the room. Ryan held back another whimper as it shattered against the wall right next to his ear.
“Boy, I know you’re in here,” Mr. Ross slurred as he made his way toward Ryan’s hiding place. “Better not to hide from me. Bad thing’s happened before, and they’ll happen now!” Books were swiped off the bookshelf as fresh tear made their way down his face. “You deserve this! You wanna know why?” Ryan hugged his knees to his chest.
“You killed her!” Mr. Ross broke into sobs, leaning on the empty bookcase for support. “You killed your own mother, you little bastard! SHE WAS MY LIFE!” Ryan shook as he shouted back, “It wasn’t my fault, I swear! It just.. Happened.”
Mr. Ross swung around to face Ryan’s hiding spot. Ryan bit his lip. He had given himself away, and all because he couldn’t take an insult from his dad. He felt ashamed, but fear was the main emotion, and it was running through him like a drug. His father stumbled blindly towards Ryan, who raised his arms in defense and braced himself for the worst.
Two steps in front of Ryan, Mr. Ross abruptly stopped. Ryan lowered his arms and studied Mr. Ross. He was rigid, his eyes squinting and he scrutinized the corner. He was muttering again, but Ryan caught ‘Where’ and ‘disappeared‘. It took Ryan much willpower to not roll his eyes, even in this tension- filled moment. He knew his father was totally wasted, but him disappearing? It was almost funny how pitiful it sounded. But when Ryan lifted his hand to wipe the stray tears from his face, he squeaked in surprise.
His hand wasn’t there. He flexed his hand, feeling the bones move under his flesh, but he still failed to see it. He quietly mused the possibility if he was going crazy as his eyes roamed across the rest of his body. It was equally transparent, except his Beatles shirt, black skinnies, and converse were still visible.
Making a mental note to see a therapist as soon as possible, Ryan slowly brought himself up to his feet. Mr. Ross had strayed from trapping Ryan in his corner back over to the bookshelf, looking around the furniture for his son. Ryan looked from his ever-searching father to the door. If he was extremely cautious, he could meander around him and slip through the door, unseen.
Ryan took his time, wincing as the alcohol that stained the air grew stronger with every step. His mess of a father was now trying in vain to move the bookcase from its place on the wall. Fucking dumb ass could never move it, the teen mused as he stepped closer to the alcoholic mass. It’s bolted to the wall.
Ryan almost laughed with relief as he managed to squeeze his way around his father. He was almost to the door when a hand closed around his wrist.
Mr. Ross breathed sharply through his mouth as he leaned into his son’s transparent face. “You’re a fucking freak,” He whispered, his eyes glassy and huge with amazement. Ryan squeaked again, trying to pry his wrist from the death grip. Of course his father could see him. He was practically a walking wardrobe. The man fiercely threw Ryan to the bed, who grunted with pain as his head collided with the headboard. His father went down on the teen, pawing the area above Ryan’s collar. When he was satisfied that he found the throat, Mr. Ross’s hands closed around Ryan’s windpipe. Ryan flailed, kicked, and tried to scream, but only to produce pitiful wheezing sounds. For the second time that night, Mr. Ross brought his face to his son’s, taking one hand away to hit the teen repeatedly in the stomach. “Your fucking freak powers killed my wife!” Ryan’s father yelled, tightening his grip and bringing the fist from Ryan's abdomen to harshly collide with his face. Ryan lungs screamed for air, and his face was on fire. During the beating, his hand found it’s way under his pillow.
It happened quickly. Ryan’s razor blade glinted as it cut a single red line on his father’s neck. Mr. Ross’s eyes widened, and took his hands from Ryan’s throat to cradle his own. Ryan was frozen with guilt and doubt as the man stumbled backwards, the blood now flowing freely from the open wound. His mouth spewed more as he fell to his knees, and finally, facedown into blood soaked carpet.
When Ryan regained the use of his limbs, his hands flew up to his throat, and gasped when he found the newly forming bruises. He absently wiped the blood from his nose, wincing once more at the feeling of his sore cheekbone. Upon further inspection, he saw that he was once again fully visible.
Ryan gazed at his father laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Ryan sighed and let the tears fall. He didn’t mean to kill him, it was an act of defense… Throwing the razor across the room, he sobbed in frustration and doubled over in pain, laying in a crumpled heap next to the body.
After letting loose a string of curses and attempting to turn over the lifeless Mr. Ross (only to fail), Ryan stood gingerly and stared at the body. He needed to leave before this was discovered. He gently took his worn guitar from the stand, and with shaking hands, put it in its leather case. Throwing open the door, he cast one more guilty look on his father, then raced out of the house, not knowing or caring where he ended up.
Yes, they have powers. It is tacky and amazing, you have to admit it. So, how was it? Rate and review ;)..and please be nice about it!! >.< Oh, and I still have auditions for this story open, so whoever wants to try out, please do! I am in desperate need male and deliciously evil characters!!
~ChemicalKissez11 is out ;)
At 2:30 AM, a nineteen year old boy fretfully covered his ears with cupped hands, trying to drown out the pandemonium in the front hall. His eyes stung with fresh tears as he heard shattering glass and stifled sobs wafting into his room. The noise quieted down for a moment, and the boy tentatively removed a hand. A wet sound, much like somebody coughing up blood pierced the air, and the hand returned to his ears.
Ryan Ross’ father had not always been abusive. Before Ryan’s thirteenth birthday, his father was caring and compassionate. He got frequent haircuts, shaved, showered as often as humanly possible, and had a good paying job. He never seemed to leave his son’s side, much to his teenage son’s hormonal dismay. But now, all Ryan wanted was to have that clingy parental figure back.
Ryan’s mother died a couple weeks after he turned thirteen, and it broke his father. The cause of her death was unknown, which proved to be unsettling, since Karolyn Ross was extremely healthy in both body and soul. She was the perfect mother, and apparently the perfect wife; After the funeral, Ryan’s father lost his hold on reality. When Karolyn was alive, he never dared to touch an alcoholic beverage. It was always water.
Ryan’s father went over the edge, and he started drinking away the pain rather than talking about it. His hair lay in matted, greasy tangles, his face covered in stubble, smelled like he was living happily in a dumpster, and quit his job so he could finance his alcoholic cravings. He even shunned away his own son. Ryan was always told that he looked like his mother, with his soft chestnut hair, big honey- colored eyes, and tall, skinny build. This was too much for Mr. Ross. He didn’t want his wife’s likeness to be around him, so he drank even more to waver the image of his wife’s look- alike.
And now he appeared to be home from some bar. God knows how he got home- he seemed to batshit drunk to find the front door. Ryan wrinkled his nose as the metallic scent of blood filled the room, and tried to dispel more tears as he heard the loud footsteps getting closer to his room. Recently, Mr. Ross had been getting into bar fights, which seemed to curb his sadness for a time. He always lost, however, so he would take out the embarrassment of losing in public out on his son. And by the sound of his deep breathing, slurred mumbling, and frequent spitting to get rid of the rest of the blood, Ryan knew his dad would show no mercy tonight.
Ryan began to sob maniacally now. He had so many bruises and cuts already, some from his dad, and some from the razor that hid safely underneath his pillow. His dad put him in frequent pain, even when he wasn’t around. He quickly scanned his room to find a useful item to ward off his attacker. All he could see was clothes and his beloved guitar that sat on its pedestal. Knowing that he had no defense, he scrambled to the darkest and farthest corner of his room, praying that his father would not find him in his drunken haze.
Ryan held back a whimper as the door was flung open. The bottom half of his father’s face was covered with dry blood, the freefalling tears making tracks on his tired, unwashed face. His tiny eyes swept across the room, and unintelligible muttering trickled out of his mouth. Ryan crouched lower in his hiding space, wishing he could just disappear. Seeing he had nobody to take his anger out on, Mr. Ross grabbed the ugly brown lamp that sat on the dresser and flung it across the room. Ryan held back another whimper as it shattered against the wall right next to his ear.
“Boy, I know you’re in here,” Mr. Ross slurred as he made his way toward Ryan’s hiding place. “Better not to hide from me. Bad thing’s happened before, and they’ll happen now!” Books were swiped off the bookshelf as fresh tear made their way down his face. “You deserve this! You wanna know why?” Ryan hugged his knees to his chest.
“You killed her!” Mr. Ross broke into sobs, leaning on the empty bookcase for support. “You killed your own mother, you little bastard! SHE WAS MY LIFE!” Ryan shook as he shouted back, “It wasn’t my fault, I swear! It just.. Happened.”
Mr. Ross swung around to face Ryan’s hiding spot. Ryan bit his lip. He had given himself away, and all because he couldn’t take an insult from his dad. He felt ashamed, but fear was the main emotion, and it was running through him like a drug. His father stumbled blindly towards Ryan, who raised his arms in defense and braced himself for the worst.
Two steps in front of Ryan, Mr. Ross abruptly stopped. Ryan lowered his arms and studied Mr. Ross. He was rigid, his eyes squinting and he scrutinized the corner. He was muttering again, but Ryan caught ‘Where’ and ‘disappeared‘. It took Ryan much willpower to not roll his eyes, even in this tension- filled moment. He knew his father was totally wasted, but him disappearing? It was almost funny how pitiful it sounded. But when Ryan lifted his hand to wipe the stray tears from his face, he squeaked in surprise.
His hand wasn’t there. He flexed his hand, feeling the bones move under his flesh, but he still failed to see it. He quietly mused the possibility if he was going crazy as his eyes roamed across the rest of his body. It was equally transparent, except his Beatles shirt, black skinnies, and converse were still visible.
Making a mental note to see a therapist as soon as possible, Ryan slowly brought himself up to his feet. Mr. Ross had strayed from trapping Ryan in his corner back over to the bookshelf, looking around the furniture for his son. Ryan looked from his ever-searching father to the door. If he was extremely cautious, he could meander around him and slip through the door, unseen.
Ryan took his time, wincing as the alcohol that stained the air grew stronger with every step. His mess of a father was now trying in vain to move the bookcase from its place on the wall. Fucking dumb ass could never move it, the teen mused as he stepped closer to the alcoholic mass. It’s bolted to the wall.
Ryan almost laughed with relief as he managed to squeeze his way around his father. He was almost to the door when a hand closed around his wrist.
Mr. Ross breathed sharply through his mouth as he leaned into his son’s transparent face. “You’re a fucking freak,” He whispered, his eyes glassy and huge with amazement. Ryan squeaked again, trying to pry his wrist from the death grip. Of course his father could see him. He was practically a walking wardrobe. The man fiercely threw Ryan to the bed, who grunted with pain as his head collided with the headboard. His father went down on the teen, pawing the area above Ryan’s collar. When he was satisfied that he found the throat, Mr. Ross’s hands closed around Ryan’s windpipe. Ryan flailed, kicked, and tried to scream, but only to produce pitiful wheezing sounds. For the second time that night, Mr. Ross brought his face to his son’s, taking one hand away to hit the teen repeatedly in the stomach. “Your fucking freak powers killed my wife!” Ryan’s father yelled, tightening his grip and bringing the fist from Ryan's abdomen to harshly collide with his face. Ryan lungs screamed for air, and his face was on fire. During the beating, his hand found it’s way under his pillow.
It happened quickly. Ryan’s razor blade glinted as it cut a single red line on his father’s neck. Mr. Ross’s eyes widened, and took his hands from Ryan’s throat to cradle his own. Ryan was frozen with guilt and doubt as the man stumbled backwards, the blood now flowing freely from the open wound. His mouth spewed more as he fell to his knees, and finally, facedown into blood soaked carpet.
When Ryan regained the use of his limbs, his hands flew up to his throat, and gasped when he found the newly forming bruises. He absently wiped the blood from his nose, wincing once more at the feeling of his sore cheekbone. Upon further inspection, he saw that he was once again fully visible.
Ryan gazed at his father laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Ryan sighed and let the tears fall. He didn’t mean to kill him, it was an act of defense… Throwing the razor across the room, he sobbed in frustration and doubled over in pain, laying in a crumpled heap next to the body.
After letting loose a string of curses and attempting to turn over the lifeless Mr. Ross (only to fail), Ryan stood gingerly and stared at the body. He needed to leave before this was discovered. He gently took his worn guitar from the stand, and with shaking hands, put it in its leather case. Throwing open the door, he cast one more guilty look on his father, then raced out of the house, not knowing or caring where he ended up.
Yes, they have powers. It is tacky and amazing, you have to admit it. So, how was it? Rate and review ;)..and please be nice about it!! >.< Oh, and I still have auditions for this story open, so whoever wants to try out, please do! I am in desperate need male and deliciously evil characters!!
~ChemicalKissez11 is out ;)
Sign up to rate and review this story