Day Seven(?): Scattered

I've been writing, I'm just a lazy fucker and haven't had the drive to post snips and such. That and I've been spread out over three stories now, and didn't have enough of any of them to properly snip.

This next one is from a random story that bit me; it's basically just a shameless means to get my crack crossover OTP together. And no, I'm not done writing for today yet, I just felt like snipping early.



Exerpt:

“I’ll go.” Frank blurted out, almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. He cleared his throat softly after, not quite looking at Billie Joe as he continued, but not really looking away either. “That is if you still want to, I’m not the best company when drunk.”

Billie Joe just laughed and waved his hand. “You forget that I’m in a band with Tré fucking Cool, if I can handle him drunk, I can handle anyone.”

This gained a few laughs, most of which were Frank’s as he moved toward the door, grabbing his coat. Billie Joe smiled at him, hopping up off the couch.

“See you guys at sound check tomorrow.”

Gerard waved daintily, holding back a giggle. “You take care of our little Frankie, Billie Joe, bring him back in at least three pieces.”

With a raised middle finger Frank left to go drinking with his idol.


Billie Joe favored wine, it seemed, so as Frank did shot of after shot, Billie Joe did maybe three, though he did sip heavily at his wine glass in between. Frank was well on his way to being completely smashed.

He was almost to the point where he started saying stuff that he really shouldn’t. Up until now his conversations with Billie Joe had been first casual, talking about music and their influences and guitars and the like. Then it had fallen to Billie Joe’s family, Frank supplementing that train with random gushings about Jamia. Now it had moved on to their band mates, which, at least for Frank, was a very dangerous place to tread.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” Billie Joe giggled vaguely, taking another very heavy sip from his glass. “But Mike’s almost ready to propose to Brittney.”

Frank’s eyes, well, at least one of them he was sure, went wide. “Really? Wow… she seems so…”

“Don’t go there, Tré and I already have. But, he’s happy with her, and that’s really all that matters.”

Frank laughed vaguely at this, almost hiccupping after but holding it back. “Sounds a lot like Mikey and Alicia.”

“Bassists!” Billie Joe threw up his arms, almost smacking a tender as he passed with a tray of drinks. This prompted a great fit of drunken laughter from both musicians, Frank smacking the bar top with the palm of one hand. Billie Joe’s laugh was infectious, giddy. He was used to hushed, breathy giggles, not the almost too-loud quality Billie Joe’s carried. It was nice. When Billie Joe laughed he could forget about glowing amber eyes, forget about smooth fingers brushing his cheek. He could just forget.

He was just about to wave the tender behind the bar over again and order another shot when he suddenly felt a weight on his shoulders, the sensation only somewhat familiar. It took a moment for his drunken brain to realize that someone’s arm was draped over him, and that said arm belonged to a rather drunk Billie Joe Armstrong beside him.

Frank felt the backs of his ears color; he glanced out the corner of his eyes at Billie Joe, swallowing a bit. The older man was leaning against him slightly, still giggling, face turned toward him. His warm breath was ghosting over Frank’s cheek, smelling of rich wine and something else, something indefinable. Frank cleared his throat, shifting a bit to reach for his wallet. He wondered briefly why exactly he was trying so hard not to pull away from Billie Joe arm as he did so.

“I need a cigarette.” His own voice sounded so familiar to his ears as he spoke. He felt strange, like the whole of time and space had stopped and it was just he and Billie Joe existing. He pondered vaguely, the train of his thoughts taking a unique turn.

He never wanted this night to end.

Side Story

Taking a break from Mystery Play for a day or two to work on another story I had planned, this one much shorter (though still a proper fic in length). It's going to be considerably less heavy than Mystery Play, though there will be a heavy dose of my own breed of blasphemy thrown in.

Basically I've had this idea brewing in my head since I first heard the Welcome To The Black Parade EP interview. I need to bring my two favorite albums ever together somehow, and what better way to do it than send Jimmy after an unsuspecting Patient?



Working Title: We Are All Of Us Wolves
Genre: Action, Drama
Fandom: American Idiot/The Black Parade (Green Day/My Chemical Romance, respectively)
Planned Pairing: Saint Jimmy/The Patient
Warnings: Slash, Violence, Alcohol
Target Rating: R/NC17 for violent themes, language and sex.
Basic Plot: Heavily inspired by the songs House Of Wolves and St. Jimmy. The Patient meets someone very unique in the Devil's club. All hell breaks loose, literally.
Reference: American Idiot limited edition lyrics booklet, The Black Parade limited edition lyrics booklet.

Day Four: Voice

I decided to write a chunk early today, so that later tonight (my normal time to work on this) I can work again and actually get caught up. It's really not very hard once I sit down and write. The hardest part is actually sitting down and opening Word.

I think I've settled into a voice for this story, well, two voices actually. Switching between Gerard's narrative parts for the broad idea of what's going on in the house and third person bits for when I need to focus on what the others are feeling.

If you couldn't tell this story is going to be more or less fragmented, clips and images of their time at The Paramour. I'm also not writing everything in order, just working on the bits that I have inspiration for. If you're confused, good, you should be.



Exerpt:
Now comes one of the hardest parts.

There comes a time when you need to be much more than a friend, a band mate, or a brother. You have to learn to be there for each other in ways you never knew existed, face things you never had to face together.
-The Black Parade limited edition booklet, Section No. 002,
The Paramour Mansion, Los Angeles

Frank. It was just Frank who’d interrupted me, nothing to freak out over. I took a calming breath, then tried to smile at him, but failed, probably grimacing at him more than anything.

He stood there, giving me this curious, tilted head look, eyes laced with worry. I must have looked completely mad to him. First standing in an empty hallway facing a wall with my eyes closed, then nearly having a fucking heart attack when he’d tapped my shoulder.

I remember he just took my hand and lead me to his room. Sometimes Frank can read me almost as well as Mikey can.

He knew exactly what I needed.


Frank carefully lead Gerard into his room, shutting the door softly behind them. Gerard stood in the middle of the floor, hands hanging limp at his sides. His eyes were fixed on some point, like he was deep within himself, not really seeing anything before him.

It hurt Frank, seeing him like that, looking so lost. Almost scared. He’d seen his friend go through so much heartache and pain with their last album; he didn’t need to see him go through anything like that again. The last thing he wanted was to almost lose him again.

Frank took a few steps toward Gerard, gently and almost hesitantly taking his hand. He was surprised by how cold his friend’s skin was. How unresponsive and almost dead his hand was. Frank laced their fingers together, tugging slightly on Gerard’s arm.

“G., are you okay?”

Gerard’s head turned then, facing Frank, an almost hollow look in his eyes. When he spoke his voice was weak, small, almost childlike, the sound almost breaking Frank’s heart. The words he spoke succeeding in that endeavor.

“I want to go home.”

Frank was still for a long moment, just looking up into his friend’s eyes, trying to gain some idea of what he could do to help. Finally he sighed, pulling Gerard by the arm over to the edge of his bed. He sat them down, letting go of Gerard’s hand in favor of folding his own in his lap, fixing his eyes on the floor.

“I want to go home, Frankie, I want my life to be familiar again.”

Frank chewed on his lip ring for a moment, a nervous habit that he couldn’t quite break, despite the fact that his teeth often slipped and pierced his lip. Gerard had always told him the gesture was cute, a comment that never failed to make Frank’s ears turn red.

Gerard wasn’t looking at him then though, he was still staring off, still looking into the oblivion on his own mind, lost within his own fears and insecurities. Frank’s eyes wandered to the floor, searching his own mind for something he could say or do to help Gerard, pull him out of this cloud of despair he’d built around himself.

“I’m here.”

He wasn’t really sure why he chose to say that, it just seemed right at the time. He wasn’t really one to dwell too much on the little things, like Gerard did to often. He’d never really felt homesick. Sure he missed Jamia, missed his family, missed his home and the things that were familiar to him, stuff he couldn’t bring on tour, but it wasn’t homesickness. He’d always had his band with him, his friends and brothers. He never really felt alone. He couldn’t imagine why Gerard did.

After a quiet pause Frank slipped a comforting arm around Gerard’s waist, hoping that the gesture would bring some comfort to his friend. It was another moment before Gerard even seemed to acknowledge the half embrace, turning his head to look at Frank.

“I know you’re here, and Mikey, and everyone. You guys have always been my home.” Gerard swallowed hard, leaning slightly against Frank. “I don’t know why I feel so lost. So alone.”

Frank met Gerard’s eyes, searching them for something. What exactly he wasn’t quite sure. Finally he brought a hand up to Gerard’s cheek, calloused fingers brushing slightly. Gerard hadn’t shaved, and the sensation of rough stubble under his touch was almost jarring.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and there probably wasn’t anything anyone could say. He sighed heavily then presses his lips to Gerard’s, the kiss firm and determined, hopefully conveying just how much Frank needed Gerard. Needed him safe and sane.

He pressed their foreheads together, reaching for Gerard’s hand again and giving it a tight squeeze. He met Gerard’s sorrowful eyes with his own.

“If you need me, for anything, even just someone to sit in silence with, I’m here. If you need to talk, or jam, even hurt something. I’m here for you, okay? I’m here.”


I stayed in his room that night, for some reason it was more comforting than my own. More welcoming. The strange thing was, I liked my room, as cold and unfamiliar as it was, it fit me.

I guess that’s what had me scared.

Wrapped in Frank’s familiar arms, listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing, his warm breaths ghosting over my cheek, I actually fell asleep. I didn’t dream, I don’t think, which was a small blessing.

I wasn’t ready to dream again. But really, I don’t think I could ever have be ready for the turn my dreams would take.

Day Three: Catching Up

I completely dicked around and did nothing for NaNo yesterday, so today I'm playing catch up. This is where abouts I should have been this morning. Really, I'm not too terribly far behind, I'll sit down and bang out another section later tonight and should be completely caught up to where I want to be right now, which is actually ahead of where the site says I should be, so there.

Today I kind of surprised myself, I didn't really want Mystery Play to have any sex in it, because generally speaking I don't like my longer fics to have sex, since then it feels like people are only reading for the cheap pr0n and not reading for the story's sake. However, something my girlfriend said on the phone last night put an idea in my head, and it ended up fitting really well with the bulk of the story.



Exerpt:

There were a few moments of white hot bliss, and then his brother was placing that gentle, lingering kiss to the back of his neck, as was his way. Gerard slowly pulled away, fingers sliding off his hips, though Mikey imagined his claws sliding out rather than off.

Mikey finally collapsed properly onto the bed once his brother moved away, chest heaving, sparks flying behind his closed eyelids. He shifted onto his side slightly, drawing the pillow to his chest, holding it loosely in his arms like a sleepy child would his stuffed bear.

Or blanket, Mikey always slept with a blanket, his weary mind recalled. It was Gerard that slept with stuffed animals. Never bears though.

A soft, familiar chuckle broke through his heavy thought and Mikey blinked his eyes open, squinting to help his eyes see better, though with little luck. “What’s so funny?”

He felt a dip in the bed as Gerard moved back onto it, curling on his side facing Mikey. His voice was hushed and gentle, and Mikey knew that whatever demons had been plaguing his brother had been purged, at least for now.

“You. Curled up the same way you used to back home.” Another breathy giggle and Gerard shifted a bit closer, moving a hand up to brush Mikey’s sweat drenched hair off his brow. “It’s a lovely contrast to how hard I just fucked you.”

Mikey had to fight to hold back a laugh, rolling his eyes, still trying to bring his brother’s face into focus. “You have a way with words, asshole.”

Gerard did laugh at that, not trying to hold back as Mikey had. He moved his hand down to cup Mikey’s cheek, thumb moving to brush softly just under Mikey’s eye. “I’m sorry I broke your glasses.”

The youngest Way shrugged, holding the pillow a bit closer to his chest now, his fingers tangling in the cotton pillowcase. Clinging slightly. “I have my spares with me, not that big a deal.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence between the brothers, their shared breaths slowly evening out to a less erratic pace. Gerard almost sounded like he’d fallen asleep, so it was with great hesitance that Mikey spoke again, yawing very slightly as he did. “What was all that?”

Gerard peaked his eyes open, blinking the claws of sleep away from his eyelids. He grunted softly, questioningly, his lips not wanting to form proper words at the moment.

“It’s been a while since you were so desperate, is all.” Mikey shrugged, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Gerard was quiet again, and Mikey wondered if he had drifted off to sleep now. He waited, listening to the quiet hum of his brother’s breathing. Finally he shifted, moving over to the edge of the bed and squinting around for his discarded clothes.

“You don’t have to leave.”

Mikey tripped over one of his shoes as Gerard spoke, cursing softly as he stubbed his toe. He hopped a bit until the throbbing faded, then picked his shoe up and started lacing it back up. “It’s okay. You seem tired. I’m not. Think I’ll go see how the others are doing.” He chuckled a bit. “You did sort of just drag me off during the middle of dinner, you know. They probably think you were hit with inspiration or something.”

Mikey was just reaching for his second show when leans arms slide around his waist. He jumped, but then relaxed into the hug, leaning back into his brother’s chest. He worried his lip a moment, one hand moving to cover the arms around his hips, his mind a clutter of worry and curiosity. What aren’t you telling me, G?

After a long moment his brother placed a very soft kiss just under his ear. “When you see Frank, tell him to stop by my room. I have something I want to show him.”

Mikey had to fight himself not to sigh; his brother could be so frustrating sometimes. He shook his head, then nodded, pulling out of his brother’s arms to finish dressing. “Yeah, okay. If I see him. I think he went out with Ray.”

Gerard’s voice had moved when he spoke again, and Mikey turned, seeing the dark blur that was his brother seated once more on the bed.

“Yeah. Okay.” The blur shifted and Mikey could just make out his brother right arm crossing over his chest to grip his left, a nervous habit of his. The gesture only fueled Mikey’s concern, but he held his thoughts away. If Gerard wanted to talk, he would. There was no sense in forcing anything out of him.

“Whenever you see him, it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Mikey nodded, his hair falling back down where it belonged in front of his eyes. He finally found his shirt and slipping it back over his head. He stumbled his way over to the door, fingers gripping the handle a moment but not turning. He glanced over his shoulder at Gerard, trying to read him, gain some knowledge from his body language that would give him a clue as to what was troubling his brother.

No luck though, and with a light sigh Mikey left the room.


Gerard stayed frozen in place on the bed for a moment, right arm still crossed over his chest. He could feel the heavy racing of his heart still, though it should have calmed long before then. He pulled in a very shaky breath, rising to his feet and moving to the collection of glass and plastic that had once been Mikey’s glasses.

He bent down, picking up a particularly large shard and holding it up to the dim light. At such an angle that he could see a very tinny reflection of himself.

He’d wanted to answer Mikey, wanted to still his brother’s fears, soothe his worry. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t even know what was wrong with him anymore. It was almost like he’d been someone else tonight, like his body had been seized, possessed, though he knew he’d been in complete control the entire time.

Gerard set the glass shard back down in the pile with his mates, moving his hand up to run shaking fingers through matted hair. It was getting long again, though he wasn’t really sure if that was a good thing. It reminded him too much of where they – he – had been, and he didn’t want that. He – they – needed to move forward.

He moved back to his bed, pulling the covers aside and slipping into the still unfamiliar bedding. He drew the bedspread right up under his nose, blocking so that it was almost difficult to breath.

Just before he drifted off into a doze his eyes fell on the ruin of glasses again. His final thoughts before sleep took him were about his brother, and how thankful he was that he’d made the snap decision to break his glasses.

The last thing he needed right now were those familiar eyes dipping into his soul.

Day One: Drooling

It's interesting writing without second guessing myself. Usually when I write I keep rereading as I go, constantly checking back and tweaking things, pouring my soul into every sentence.

I'm not sure I like just wantonly spilling out words, but hey, NaNo is all about quantity, not quality. I know I'll have plenty to edit when I go back over everything in December. Perhaps learning to write this way will help me start to write more, to not be so nervous about writing.

Normally I bleed onto the page; this feels almost like I'm drooling.



Excerpt:

The Paramour. Private Residence. No Honking.

We all drew numbers to see who got which room and it almost seemed like the house chose which one we got, because each room really seemed to fit each guy. Except Mikey. His room was terrifying to be in and I couldn’t exactly tell you why… it just had a bad vibe to it
-The Black Parade limited edition booklet, Section No. 002,
The Paramour Mansion, Los Angeles

“I don’t like this place.”

I paused in my steps, turning to my brother and eyeing him curiously.

He swallowed, a bit harder than was probably necessary. His eyes focused on the floor. His glasses were hanging low on his nose, much like how he used to wear them. I was suddenly struck with a vague sadness, almost nostalgia. Memories from our childhood surfacing in quick clips in my mind.

Mikey and me staying up well past midnight on Halloween, me telling him stories and trying to scare him, scaring myself almost as much as I did him. We’d huddle together under the blanket tent I’d make on my bed, jumping at every sound the house made, clinging to one another for life.

He almost looked like needed to cling to me then, standing there in that black hallway, like he hope that I would banish the demons away.

But just like when we were kids, I was just as nervous as he was.

I cleared my throat, the sound almost echoing through the house, or maybe that was just my imagination. I reached out and took his hand in my own, digging in my pocket for my lighter with the other. I drew it out and turned to him, flicking it to life between us.

He looked at me and I looked at him. I tried to smile, but nothing came. The flame from my lighter made Mikey’s skin look almost golden, his sharp features brought to stunning life, cheekbones more pronounced, eyes almost shining. He looked like something sculpted.

As Mikey breathed I realized I had been holding my breath, and let it out slowly, finally trusting my voice to speak, squeezing his hand to punctuate my words. “It’s just a house, Mikey, just a silly house with a bunch of stories tied to it. Don’t worry, I’m here, we’re all here. We’re all in this together, whatever happens.”

I tried to sound encouraging, but I don’t think I succeeded very well. Mikey just nodded at me, a quick inclining of his head, his hand dropping my own, face turning away, gazing down the hall.

“We should find our rooms, get some sleep.”

I worried my lip, but nodded, moving wordless down the hall once more. I kept my lighter out though, letting the small flame banish as many of the shadows away that it could.

We came to Mikey’s room first. His jaw set, fingers wrapped tightly around the strap of his pack, he moved to the door. Without another glance or a parting word he disappeared inside, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

I spent a good long time staring at his door that night. I tried to tell myself that everything was going to be fine, that this really was just like any other house, that making this record would be no different from making the last one, but I couldn’t shake this odd sick to my stomach feeling I got.

Before I headed down to my room I took a step closer to Mikey’s door, reaching out and resting my fingers on the cool brass doorknob. I tried to pretend that a shiver didn’t move down my arm, that my insides didn’t squirm from the feeling of the metal, and I more or less succeeded.

With a sigh I let my lighter die, the shadows moving in to cover me again. I closed my eyes, picturing Mikey in his bed, his hair spread out over his pillow, glasses resting on the nightstand. Maybe he was reading to help himself sleep, maybe he was just staring blackly up at the ceiling.

Somehow though I knew that he wasn’t even in bed yet. I could almost feel his hand on the other side of the door, fingers mirroring my own on the doorknob. I swallowed hard, my voice almost a sad whisper.

“Good night, Mikey. Love you, sleep well.”

Greetings and Welcome

NaNoWriMo starts today, so I figured it was the best time to give some detail on what I will be doing.

My first project for NaNoWriMo, and what will probably end up being the bulk of my word count, is a fanfic that will be for the My Chemical Romance fandom and will be set during their time at The Paramour, using the limited edition booklet for The Black Parade as my primary source of information.



Working Title: Mystery Play
Genre: Mindfuck/Horror, Drama, Romance
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Planned Pairings: Gerard Way/Frank Iero, Gerard Way/Mikey Way, with possible other assorted pairings.
Warnings: Slash, Horror themes, Incest (brothers), and probably a few other deliciously wicked things I can throw in.
Target Rating: R for violent themes and language.
Basic Plot: My Chemical Romance's time spent at The Paramour, heavily focused on Gerard Way's night terrors and Mikey Way's leave of absence from the band.
Reference: The Black Parade Limited Edition booklet, Welcome To The Black Parade EP interview, article on Mikey Way's leave of absence, Wikipedia.