Write me stuff? Please?

[ladyfoxxx]

Hey, so I'm back from two days visiting the in-laws where I couldn't even get my iPhone to connect to the wireless that I KNEW was there, so I'm slowly working my way through all the awesomeness that was the Ways and Ray at Comic Con and everyone's reactions.

I'm in a writerly funk. :( I don't know if it's fatigue or if it's the fic I'm currently working on, but I'm blocked and even two hours on a train (because usually I find public transport very motivating for writing purposes - what? I know it's weird) didn't fix me.

So! I'm ripping a page out of villiagegreen's book and stealing her meme - I'm gonna lay some prompts on the table and see if I can infect any of you with my plot bunnies. Have a look! If you see something you like - write it! Make it fun, cracky, crazy, porny, whatever! Don't take it too seriously now, just rattle out some commentfic. It'll be fun.

1. You saw this one coming - Gerard the faily surfer! Bonus points if you have someone trying to teach him how to surf and him being a total hodad and nearly injuring himself. EXTRA bonus points if the person teaching him to surf is Matt Skiba!

2. Not that I'm obsessed or anything, but I want stories about Pete's dick pics! Because really, this is gold and there's so much potential here. What about his reaction when they first got leaked? Or Patrick's? *dies laughing* How about my new favourite piece of canon where he and Ashlee apparently hooked up BECAUSE of his penis photos? OR, you know, you could just write me fic where Mikeyway jerks off to them. BECAUSE I'M ASKING NICELY. And maybe Pete finds out. Or maybe he doesn't but Mikey is AWKWARD either way.

3. Voyeuristic tour bus bunk sex! There is no privacy on tour, as we all know. So maybe someone overhears someone having special private times and maybe this leads to MORE special private times, or embarrassment, or both. Whatever! Run with it.

4. Games! I want game oriented fic! Drinking games, high school games, dares. Preferably leading to faily boys being faily and pining after each other. Perhaps a game of "Never have I ever" leads to a revelation about someone's sexual preference? Or a dare? Can you see where I'm going with this? Or someone VERY unexpected reveals they've been gangbanged or something. I DON'T KNOW. MAKE SHIT UP.

5. In honour of Frank's black metal cookies: baking fic! Frank bakes cookies! Or Frank tries to bake cookies and totally fails and sets off the fire alarm and gosh how CUTE was that fireman who came to help him out? Or Frank works at a bakery and he has a VERY regular customer who always seems to buy way more baked goods that one person could ever ingest. And maybe there is FROSTING LICKING. Not that I have a thing for it. No, really. I really don't.

So, anything there float your boat? If the prompt you want is taken, no matter, fill it again! And snatch the meme for yourself so you can make other people write you porn fic!

Comments

[brooklinegirl.livejournal.com]

There is no privacy on tour, as we all know. So maybe someone overhears someone having special private times and maybe this leads to MORE special private times

this is one of my ALL-TIME FAVORITE THINGS in the world. ♥ I might try it!

[mizubyte.livejournal.com]

the fact that Alicia and Mikey climbed into a bunk after their backstage wedding, and the guys tried to leave them alone but couldnt! (according to Bob) is one of the funniest things I've ever learned from interviews

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

It's one of MY all time favourite things too! What is wrong with me that I want folks being pervy all the time?

I was doing YouTube research on those buses to get the lay of the land and man, those bunks have NO privacy at all - only a curtain separates you from pretty much the ENTIRE bus. They are RIGHT next to the lounge areas. You would hear EVERYTHING.

I might try it!

*TWIRLS WITH GLEE*

[kasuchans-v2.livejournal.com]

3. Voyeuristic tour bus bunk sex! There is no privacy on tour, as we all know. So maybe someone overhears someone having special private times and maybe this leads to MORE special private times, or embarrassment, or both. Whatever! Run with it.

Hey, I'm working on almost-this! But instead of bunks... It's MCR during the van era. *winkwink*

[brooklinegirl.livejournal.com]

It's MCR during the van era. *winkwink*

...EVEN BETTER. ♥______♥

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

No curtains in a van! \o/ Oh god I'm such a perve. /o\

A small man's wetsuit...

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

Fuck Matt and his fucking grace.

Matt is fine on wheels, on the dance floor, throw the sonovabitch off a building and he's gonna land on his god damn feet.

Gerard thinks all this as he can't manage to stand on a surf board in the fucking sand.

Matt grunts helping him back up and repossitioning limbs none to gently even though his voice is soft, "one more time..." he coachs.

***

Matt somehow sits on his board in the bouncing moving tide as Gee clings to his like a cat to the side of the tub, not wanting to get wet.

"It's not a kickboard, Gerard... Just relax, sit up".

Gerard makes half an attempt and promptly winds up in the water, sinking like he pocketed an anvil. Matt rolls his eyes, thrusting an arm down and clutching Gee by the shoulder, hauling him up as gee scrambled gasping and grasping to matt's board.

* * *

Gerard feels the water coming out of his nose, coughing into matt's mouth as Matt pushes down on his chest.

His arms flail, nearly taking out one of matt's eyes, body shrieking for air.

Matt sits back on his heels, a small family in vacation watch in flabbergasted. Matt has the balls to smirk "you really do suck".

Gerard wishes he has the energy to glare but Matt smiles, leaning in and kissing the flopping dead fish of a man. Gerard stills and no longer wants to murder the other, but he breaks away... Spewing saltwater in the sand.

Re: A small man's wetsuit...

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

GERARD THE FAILY SURFER!!!

Damn that Matt! And his GRACE! How dare he know what the fuck he's doing when Geeway can't even NOT DIE on his surfboard. *laughs and laughs and laughs*

Girl, I love you, and yeah Gerard would totally suck at surfing but at least he has Matt to wring him out afterwards. And el oh el at him spitting seawater everywhere and being a huge loser. I love him best when he is faily. This is common knowledge. THANK YOU! I am grinning so wide.

(P.S. I see what you did there. I DON'T WANT A LADIES WETSUIT! I'M A MAN! A small men's wetsuit please.)

Re: A small man's wetsuit...

[turlough]

Poor Gerard!!

Re: A small man's wetsuit...

[halfeatenmoon.livejournal.com]

:D Matt/Gerard beach fic! I love it.

Re: A small man's wetsuit...

[coreopsis.livejournal.com]

I laughed so much. A+

[mizubyte.livejournal.com]

The door wouldn't close.

Gerard examined the lock curiously, pushing the door more firmly into the jam, but it refused to latch. The wood was splintered around the edges, almost like it had been forced in.

Worry filled Gerard and he stepped further into the apartment. There was a slight haze drifting through the air, and Gerard sighed. He'd told Frank before that they needed to keep the window open or the landlord was going to kill them for smoking inside, but Frank kept forgetting.

Gerard moved into the kitchen, and his mouth dropped open. The hose from the sink was hanging down the cabinet, dripping into the large puddle that covered the entire floor. The wall behind the stove was scorched a dark black, that faded up into the ceiling. Gerard squelched across the linolium and dragged his finger through the scorched spot. His fingers came away black, and he frowned.

"Frank?" he called cautiously.

"In here," Frank called back, voice muffled, like he was eating something chewy.

Gerard continued through the kitchen into the living room and raised an eyebrow. The haze was lighter in here, and Gerard crossed to the window and pushed it open. Frank continued to sit on the couch, feet up on the table, one hand (wrapped in gauze) holding the remote and flipping through channels. His tshirt looked clean, but his jeans were streaked with soot and had a few new holes.

"How's the gallery coming?" Frank asked, not looking away from his channel surfing. He reached into the pot he had balanced on the sofa cushion beside him and popped something into his mouth.

"Good. Should be ready next month," Gerard answered, moving closer. He dropped down on to the sofa next to Frank and peered over his lap to see into the pot. "Anything, uh.. interesting happen today?"

Frank nodded, tilting the pot towards Gee. "I made fried granola. Want some?"

Gerard made a OMG-you-and-your-health-food-are-so-weird face, but he reached over to grab some of the granola. He chewed on it thoughtfully; it was pretty good, though it had a scorched undertaste to it.

"Do I want to kno--"

"Nope," Frank cut him off, still munching away on his granola, eyes glued to the TV screen.

Gerard thought for a moment, then shrugged, slouching down on the couch and pillowing his head on Frank's shoulder. He reached over to grab more of the granola. "Kay. What's on TV?"

omg lol idek

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

AHAHAHAHAAAAAA.

Frank! The firebug! It appears Mikey is not the only one you can't leave to his own devices with electrical things nearby. I love the way you don't actually say what the fuck happened but it's so fucking obvious and Frank is all HEY 'SUP? And Gerard's all DOESN'TWANTTOKNOW.

Ahahahahaa. I also love that they are cohabitating in this 'verse because I'm a SAP.

At least the granola is good! LOL. THEM!

[turlough]

Hilarious!! Frank the fire starter!!

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Ways+1 is defeating me so have some rough as all hell clichéd I never fic. Which is apparently too long for one comment /o\

The problem is, Frank thinks, being on tour is fucking boring. Not always, the shows are insane and meeting the fans is amazing. Hell, even rehearsals and roll-outs can be fun. It’s the travelling that’s the problem. There’s only so many DVDs you can watch or books you can read before you’re about to go fucking insane.

It’s not helped that they’re dry. Before, alcohol soothed hours spent on the road. Countless hours, fucking, tedious, boring-as-all-fuck hours. Even talking to Jamia doesn’t help after a while. Frank’s about to go out of his head.

He lies in his bunk and kicks at the ceiling, turns on his side and peers out of the tiny window, pulls shut the curtain and tries not to scream.

“Fuck this!” Giving in, Frank rolls out of his bunk and onto his feet. Passing the tiny kitchen he snatches up a bottle of juice and slams it on the table, announces at the top of his lungs, “We’re playing I Never, motherfuckers.”

The others show they aren’t keen, in a way that not one of the fucker’s bother to reply, but Frank’s made of stern stuff -- also desperate -- and he snaps his fingers in front of Gerard’s face and points to the floor, says, “Sit.”

Snapped out of a daydream, Gerard blinks and looks where Frank’s pointing. “You want me to sit on the floor? Do you know what’s on there?”

Frank does know, and Gerard put half of it there. He kicks at a crumpled soda can and brushes away a pile of crushed chips. “There, sit your ass down, princess.”

Frank stares until Gerard moves, then turns his attention to Ray. He’s holed up in the back, working on some new melody and really Frank should have gone there first, because the fact is, Ray’s easy. Opening the door Frank thinks about Old Yellow, Marley at the end of the movie, his dogs that he hasn’t seen for months. Sure he looks suitably miserable Frank leans against the doorframe, says, “Ray.”

Ray stops playing, looking concerned. “Is there something wrong?”

Frank sniffs a little, says, “Just missing home.”

“Yeah,” Ray says with a sigh, he puts down his guitar. “Want to help? It’ll be a distraction.”

Frank digs his fingernails in his palm so he doesn’t start grinning. “We’re playing a game, that’s a distraction.”

Ray starts to stand. “Sounds good to me, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Thanks,” Frank says, and when he turns he can’t help pumping his fist in the air, sure Ray can’t see. Which leaves Mikey and Bob, both difficult in their own ways. Frank considers, and then grabs hold of the curtain of Mikey’s bunk, pulling it back with a jerk.

“The hell?” Mikey says, and doesn’t both taking his hand out of his pants.

“Sexual deviant,” Frank says, and plucks Mikey’s phone out of his hand. Quickly checking it for jizz, he holds it up to his ear. “Pete, Mikey’s coming to play with me now, he’ll phone back later.”

Mikey makes a grab for the phone, says, “No I’m not.”

Which is why Frank’s a plan making genius. He puts his hand over the phone. “If you don’t I’ll put the video on You Tube.”

Mikey shrugs. “I don’t care, if people don’t like I do dick they can suck it.”

Which is exactly what Frank knew he would say, he leans into the bunk, trying not to breathe the stink of sex and sweat. “Not that one. The one with the speedo, you know, last time you got drunk.”

Mikey glares and snatches the phone from Frank’s hand, says to Pete. “I have to go, call you later.”

Frank smiles, three down and one to go. He moves over to Bob.

He’s sitting in the dining area, legs stretched out along the short bench. When Frank approaches Bob holds up his hand. “If you try to blackmail me I’ll break your neck, and I can’t be manipulated or ordered around.”

Which is all true. It’s why Frank flops down on Bob’s legs and leans in close, says, “You can make them admit embarrassing things.”

For a moment Bob considers and then says, “I’m in.”

[turps33.livejournal.com]

It takes a while but eventually everyone’s sitting in a rough circle, the bottle of juice in the middle and full shot glasses held in their hands.

Frank grins and says, “I’m starting.” He’s been thinking of questions since he sat down, but decides to start off easy, ease them into the game. “I’ve never blown a guy.”

They all drink, just as Frank knew that they would. He glances at Bob and raises an eyebrow, Bob grins back in return and then says, “I’ve never been in a threesome.”

Only Mikey drinks, and at Gerard’s pointed look says, “What?”

“Fucking Pete,” Gerard says, and asks his own question. “I’ve never been in an orgy.”

A beat and then Ray drinks, followed by Mikey.

“Go Toro!” Bob says, and holds up his hand for a high five with Ray.

“An orgy? Jesus.” Gerard’s looking slightly ill, and Frank’s chest is hurting from holding in his hysterical laughter. He gives in when Mikey rolls his eyes at Gerard and says, “I’ve never sang My Heart Will Go On outside a girl’s house.”

“Oh my god,” Gearard manages, the last ending in a squeak. He takes a drink of his juice and Frank’s gone, his juice spilling as he folds forward and giggles.

“I was drunk!” Gerard says, like that makes it any better, and Frank’s laughing so much he’s barely able to form the words to ask his own question.

“I’ve never had sex in my brother’s bed.”

Again, Mikey drinks, and Gerard’s mouth is open as he gasps, as if the ability to form words have left him. Eventually, he blurts out. “You’ve had sex in my bed?”

Mikey doesn’t reply, and, eyes gleaming, Bob looks from him to Gerard before saying, deadpan. “I’ve never had sex with two of Fall Out Boy and used my brother’s hoodie to wipe off.”

Everyone stills, looking at Mikey. He glares at Bob and takes a drink, drags his hand over his mouth and says levelly, "Secret telling bastard."

[dr-jasley.livejournal.com]

epppps writing blocks such to all hell man.

I wish I could give you comment fic..but none of the above ping me and all I can think about MCR wise is unrelated FBI Verse stuffs...so *pouts* sorries

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Yeah I know :( I'm just taking a step back and letting it breathe because god knows I can't stare at that cursor anymore.

Participation is totally voluntary! Plus you have an entire fic empire demanding your attention so it's totally cool! No need to apologise.

[delphinapterus.livejournal.com]

I heard you wanted to fic, so here's an attempt at Frank cooking fic. I hope you like it.


In the three months he'd been living with Frank, Mikey had gotten used to his shifting allegiances to certain food. The week of navy beans still haunted him and he kept a diligent eye to make sure no navy bean graced their shared apartment ever again. If it had merely been a matter of Frank failing again and again Mikey would have put his foot down; they could live off the leftovers and frozen casseroles that Donna and Linda would have been happy to provide. However, the truth was that Frank's failures were surprisingly few and far between (baring the week of navy beans) and he liked to share. Mikey's stagey for Frank's cooking, which involved going for the middle of the dish because Frank tended to let the edges get too close to blackened which actually worked out well since Frank had an unhealthy appreciate for almost charcoaled food.

When Mikey opened the door to the sound of Frank banging around in the kitchen he wasn't surprised because Frank had been complaining about running out of good food (not chips, Mikeyway!) since the last bout of munchies he'd had. Frank's complaints were a sure sign that he'd be cooking something up for his next bout and Mikey knew Frank had scored some prime bud the previous day. Mikey still didn't know what had triggered Frank's obsession with health food but he had a feeling it came not long before the navy bean fiasco. He was still unsure if he should be staging an intervention for his roommate over his new obsession with healthy food only although Frank's refusal to make the chocolate cupcakes Mikey had come to enjoy was helping tip the balance in favor of an intervention.

Mikey leaned into the kitchen doorway and watched as Frank dumped a whole can of chickpeas into a mixing bowl that he'd liberated from his mother the previous month. The empty can was added to a row of two other empty chickpea cans. Frank was doing the half hum half mutter that he always did when he cooked, dreads falling over his eyes, as he bent to retrieve the olive oil. He added what Mikey considered a healthy dollop the bowl and plunged one hand into the bowl. He kept stirring with one hand while he shook pepper, salt, and chilli pepper into the bowl with the same abandon that Mikey could remember Gerard shaking sparkles out. The combination didn't seem too promising especially given that Frank's recipe looked like it was scribbled on the back of a flyer. Frank's best dishes always came out of the battered notebook he'd labelled "Briaaaans".

[delphinapterus.livejournal.com]

When Mikey ventured into the kitchen, drawn by the unmistakable sound of the oven buzzer, he was heartened to see there was a towel covering something that looked like it was made of pointy bumps. He might be getting something good and not made with chickpeas after all.

"Try these."

Frank thrust a bowl of dark brown balls at him. Mikey hesitated. The balls looked suspiciously like burnt chickpeas. Frank shook the bowl in much the same way he shook the bowls of dog food for Linda's dogs. He slowly picked out three balls which looked the least burnt and popped them in his mouth. The outsides were hard and when he bit down he found the middles were filled with hot mush. The whole thing tasted vaguely smoky under the bite of the chilli.

"Well?" Frank asked defiantly.

"It's different."

"Roasted chickpeas, the healthy alternative to chips." Frank said as if he was quoting something nad sounding prouder than the information really warranted as he shook at the bowl at Mikey again.

Mikey obligingly took more chickpeas and edged closer to the towel covered bumps. Frank huffed and set the bowl down much to Mikey's relief. He was still chewing on the leathery outsides of the chickpeas.
"If that's your attitude I'm not sharing these when you're looking for something salty later," Frank warned.
Mikey swallowed and shrugged. As long as Frank was planning to share his bud he wouldn't be too put out if Frank horded the roasted chickpeas. He picked up a bottle of coke and used it wash the smoky taste of chickpeas out of his mouth. He grimaced at the pop's flat warm taste. Frank snickered. Mikey edged a little closer to the towel. Sometimes Frank could get a little protective of his baking and removing it's covering had to be done a certain way. Frank caught him edging his hand onto the counter and drafted forward to grab the towel. He whipped it off with a flourish to reveal the familiar round hills of the chocolate cupcakes.

"You'll like these."

Mikey nodded and picked one up. It was still warm to the touch. Perfect. He carefully bit into it, half afraid that Frank had done something to make them healthy and weird tasting, but it tasted just as good as he remembered. Perhaps he wouldn't need to stage an intervention for Frank after all.

Frank pops a few more chickpeas into his mouth with a grin as he watches Mikey devouring the cupcake. "There's zucchini in those you know."

lol idk

[joanses.livejournal.com]

Bob sits in the back of the bakery, piping delicate black lines onto the top tier of a white wedding cake. The lines loop and curl under his steady hand and Frank watches, mesmerized, as Bob spins the cake gently and pulls the piping bag away from the cake. He picks up a tiny paintbrush, bristles damp, and smooths out the imperfections (not that there are any, Frank thinks).

Bob's shoulders drop and Frank can see the tension drain out of him. Bob turns to look at Frank and offers a half smile, "I can't believe Mikey asked me to make his wedding cake."

Frank's smile grows into a grin with teeth. "Alicia's a good woman."

Bob nods and looks back at the cake. It's a traditional wedding cake, which neither Bob nor Frank had been expecting. The cake stands three white tiers tall and a strip of black fondant encircles the base of each tier. The black lines of royal icing swirl up from the black bands and they are nothing if not ornate and absolutely breathtaking.

Frank says, "I can't believe they're getting married."

Bob nods and turns back to the cake, fingers thrumming a beat against the table.

Frank startles as he hears the bell at the bakery's front trill. He glances at the clock and sees that it's just about time for the shop front to close. He makes his way up to the front with a small frown on his face, but it slides from his face and is soon replaced with smile.

Gerard stands in front of the counter, pushing a hand through his hair nervously. "Hey, Frankie."

Frank breathes out a quiet greeting, dropping to his knees to rummage under the counter for a moment. When he stands back up, he perches on the balls of his feet and presses a small box toward Gerard. "I made something for you," he says.

Gerard huffs a laugh and cracks the lid and pulls a cookie from within the box. He takes a bite and his eyes widen slightly.

"They're triple chocolate," Frank says, words spilling out of his mouth. "With chocolate covered espresso beans. I thought you'd like them."

Gerard shuts him up by reaching over the counter, tucking his free hand behind Frank's neck and pulling him close.

When Gerard kisses him, he tastes like coffee and promises.

Re: lol idk

[delphinapterus.livejournal.com]

Aw, that was really sweet. The cookies sound good. I like how Frank is so impressed/awed by Bob and how Bob is tense because it's not just a cake but Mikey and Alicia's cake.

[graciexmae.livejournal.com]

Bb, I just want you to know, I'm totally writing you something, but I'm going to post it in my journal and link it, okay?

It's bus!sex, LynZ and Jamia are sneaky sex bunnies who ~plot to get their husbands off together, and it's, yeah, pretty hot, if I do say so myself. It's not quite finished, but it will be later today.

:D

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

I AM THE LUCKIEST PERSON IN THE WOOOOOORLD. Porns by you!

\o/

And of COURSE you can link silly, whatever you like. But YAYs! Bus sex! The hotwives! WAHOO! I am excited and exuberant!

[justbeingaimee.livejournal.com]

Can you please please tell me where you found that other picture of Gerard with his new hair??
I've only seen the one of the Facebook GerardWay fanpage.

[jiele.livejournal.com]

dancinbutterfly has con pics and stuff on her lj.

*fades back into the aether*

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

I just want to say that I ADORE YOUR FLIST. You got awesome, awesome fics which I enjoyed a lot.

You're so lucky! (but you deserve it.)

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

DUDE. How fucking lucky AM I? I am SPOILED.

Girl, scroll down - bebunny wrote some AWESOME Ray/Mikey smut. It's sizzling hot.

this was supposed to be a caption -_- (1/2)

[jiele.livejournal.com]

Tragically, I have nothing to offer but this. A wee tiny thing entitled "It's Called A Flambé, Motherfucker", complete with visual aid. Well, it was SUPPOSED to be tiny. A glorified caption, if you will. Idek what happened. Lol




Ray
Ray had started shooting worried glances toward Frank when he saw him pulling various pans and other cooking-type stuff from the cabinets in the bus kitchenette. When Frank disappeared into his bunk and emerged with an odd-looking black canvas case, Ray realised that he felt a very pressing need to go do some work in the back studio. He recognised that case.

As Ray walked (not too quickly, mind) past Frank on his way to safety the studio, he saw Frank unroll the case, revealing a number of disturbingly shiny knives and knifey accouterments, as he muttered quietly to himself. Ray thought he heard something about avacados, but he wasn't sure.

Once safely ensconced in the studio, Ray settled in for a few hours' wait. He was perfectly happy to eat whatever Frank felt like cooking--food on Warped left more than a little to be desired--but no WAY was he gonna be anywhere near Frank while he was cooking. He preferred for his hair to remain unscorched.

Gee
Gee looked up from his sketchpad when he felt Ray brush past him. He'd vaguely registered the clanking earlier, but now he noticed that Frank had his scarily intense "Don't mess with me, I'm cooking, you fuckers. Knives! Fire! Yay!" face on.

He turned to a new page in his sketchbook and started drawing.

Mikey
Mikey looked up from his sidekick when he saw Frank rummaging through his bunk across the hall (if it could even be called a hall. Alleyway might be a better word.)
"You gonna try that new recipe you've been working on?"

Frank's muffled voice emerged from his bunk. "Yeah. I think I figured out what to do about the flavor imbalance in the chutney."

"Sweet. Yell when you're done, yeah?"

"Sure thing, Mikeyway." Frank said as he headed back towards the front of the bus.

Mikey turned his attention back to his sidekick.

wanna cm ovr n lyk 2 hrs franks cooking.

nethng 4 u mikeyway

Mikey rolled his eyes and smiled.

this was supposed to be a caption -_- (2/2)

[jiele.livejournal.com]

Bob
Bob awoke to the smell of something... He had no idea. Whatever it was, it was sweet and spicy and delicious, though.

"Soup's on, motherfuckers!" Frank's voice called.

Oh. Frank must have been cooking while he was asleep. Bob rolled out of his bunk, rubbing at nap-fuzzy eyes as he shuffled to the studio and stuck his head in. Yup, Ray was in there, as usual. "Ray, man, Frank cooked."

"Yeah, I..."

Frank's voice ringing through the bus cut Ray off. "Mango chutney with spinach-avacado salad and glazed tempeh! In pita bread!"

"I know. I'll be there in a minute. I have to save this first."

"Bob! Ray! Get your asses out here before these animals out here eat it all!"

As Bob walked towards the front of the bus, he could hear Pete objecting to Frank's word choice. "I am NOT an animal!" he objected huffily "I'm a growing boy and I need proper nutrition to maintain sufficient energy levels! The rockstar business is very draining."

Gerard squawked. "I don't need to hear about your... draining rockstar lifestyle, Pete!"

"What?! It is!

"That doesn't mean we need to hear about it! He's my BROTHER, for fuck's sake!"

Bob stepped carefully through the disaster area of the kitchenette, overturned bowls, an assortment of dirty utensils and sticky-looking splatters decorating every horizontal surface in the vicinity of the stove.

"That's not what I even meant! You have a twisted mind, Gerard Way. Twisted." Pete shook his head sadly as Bob passed safely through the kitchenette and slumped into one of the free booth-type seats left. Frank was standing in the aisle, face smudged with what looked like soot and holding two plates of pita bread halves stuffed with something that looked like a rainforest and smelled like heaven.

"That... You... I don't even..." Gerard sputtered. "Ray! Hurry up! Frank isn't letting us eat until you get here and Pete is about to get himself killed no matter how much Mikes likes him."

A few seconds later, Ray carefully poked his head out of the bunk area, surveying the kitchenette warily. Once Ray successfully navigated the treacherous kitchenette floor, he slid into the booth seat opposite Bob.

"Alright, motherfuckers. Here." Frank set a plate down on each table, and everyone fell to, tucking in with various sounds of approval. Bob was pretty sure this was what heaven tasted like. "You do realise," Frank said around a mouthful of his own pita, "that you're cleaning this up as payment for my epic culinary skills."

[bebunny.livejournal.com]

I wrote for you from my 'Exposure' bingo square.
**

Ray’s all strung out, like he can’t get enough air. The bunk is close and hot and stuffy. All the things he doesn’t need, but Gerard’s claimed the tiny table in the lounge area and Frank’s got his head down in the studio in the back. Ray doesn’t like to disturb him then, brow furrowed and hands moving quick and purposeful over the paper and his frets.

He digs out his phone, no messages; he’s not like Mikey with his friends on an invisible wire. Bob told him once that Mikey’s social networking was an addiction. Ray believes him, watching Mikey’s pale face lit up only by the light of the little blue-white screen as they rumble, eating up kilometres beneath them. His mouth was slack like some junkie taking a hit.

Ray could hear him now, in the bunk across from his, tinny clicking from the sidekick. Ray had a sudden sense that Mikey was somehow possessed, aliens entering his mind through radio waves, or microwaves or whateveritwas that made a phone talk to others of its kind. It was an idea that Gerard would have drawn, zombie Mikey, phone attached with wires, borg-like and pale. It made Ray sick.

“Hey Mikey” He whispers.

“Yeah?”

“’Sup?”

Silence, like Mikey’s considering the profound nature of his answer.

“Dunno.”

So much for that theory.

“Missing Pete?”

“I guess, kinda.”

“Huh?”

“Well, you’re here right?”

Ray feels Mikey’s lopsided grin, even through two curtains. He huffs a laugh, unsure if Mikey hears it, but it wasn’t really for him. He imagines himself filling in for Pete, wonders if he has it in him to make Mikey giggle the way Pete does. He suspects not.

“I’m here yeah.”

“Ray? How do you get by being away from someone you wanna be with?”

“I guess I’m always with them...”

“No, I mean, not being able to touch them?”

Ray remembers the weeks of phone calls, emails, and webcams. Sorrys and promises in hotels rooms halfway across the world. No amount of description or wishing makes up for smoothing hair over faces or tangled fingertips. He listens to the road beneath them, the blare of a truck’s horn as it changes lane and heads away from the bus.

“I think about them, think about the way they taste and smell, their laugh or how their hands feel on me. I keep pictures too...”

A laugh.

“It’s dark in here!”

“Well alright but it isn’t always.”

“The dark helps, then I can imagine it’s their hands on me instead of mine.”

comment fic part 2

[bebunny.livejournal.com]

Ray perceives the shift in the atmosphere, the close air suddenly a blanket. This is a private space. He hears the snap of a waistband and he finds himself wishing he knew what was in all those texts, all the sweet nothings the sidekick pours in and out of Mikey’s soul.

“Yeah.” He says, “Tell me about it.”

A colloquial turn of phrase, an agreement. So easily language becomes warped.

“I think about the past, and how it could be in the future. Imagine finding little spots where no one knows where we are, like we did before.”

Ray sees Mikey and Pete climbing in the back of minivans and backstage storage rooms, giggling and sweaty. Mikey has turned his agreement into a request; Ray doesn’t want to correct him.

“Often?”

“All the fucking time. I think about finding him waiting for me at the next venue, naked, hard, kissing him in stage costumes and smearing him in makeup.”

Ray is suddenly and ludicrously reminded that he’s talking to Gerard’s brother. So different and yet so much of their souls are cut from the same fabric.

“I bet he tastes good.”

“Unbelievable. Always better after shows, the adrenaline I guess. He just used to drop to his knees after seeing me play, Or I would do it for him.”

A long forgotten memory resurfaces, needing money to fix a blown out amp, Ray sneaking out back of the filthy club for some air, Mikey’s pale face in the parking lot’s lights, on his knees for the owner. Ray had never mentioned it.

“I bet that was a sight...”

“You know it.”

Ray sighs, slipping his hand inside his sweatpants, floods of relief washing away his discomfort. He moans almost inaudible, almost.

“He has such a soft tongue too, unless he got rough.”

Not so inaudible this time, Ray’s sigh is echoed on the other side, Mikey losing control a little.

“When did he get rough?”

“When he was desperate. He gets needy, and has to touch as much as possible, all at once.”

“Ever leave marks?”

“All the time, especially if it was gonna be a few days before I saw him.”

Ray imagines Mikey on his back in his bunk, examining his marks in the lamplight, hand wrapped around his dick. His own grip tightens.

“I get this weird thing about seeing evidence of what’s happened....or is happening.”

Ray’s blood runs cold, and he hears the curtain slide back. Nothing for a few seconds. Silence.

“I just used to lose it, watching him suck me off. You ever get like that?”

Ray can’t reply, he tries to speak, but a jolt in the road tears a small moan from his throat instead. He tries not to focus too hard on his strokes, but Mikey is driving him wild inside his own head, he feels like a caged animal, trapped.

“I guess so.”

For a while Mikey says nothing, but Ray can hear him breathe, hear it get ragged, and the soft fabric sounds of his body shifting around, trying to get comfortable. He’s desperate to finish this, for Mikey to speak, tell him more. He doesn’t trust himself to ask. Slowly, almost without registering he pulls back his own curtain.

Mikey is leaning on his side, facing toward him, head propped up on one arm, his spare hand stroking himself smoothly, unhurried. Their gazes meet and Ray is shocked at how completely relaxed Mikey looks. Swallowing he kicks off his sweats and mirrors Mikey’s position, watching his hand as he matches Mikey’s pace.

They pick up speed together, eyes meeting every so often. Ray can feel his tension dropping away, his muscles responding to the sensations, and everywhere he looks, Mikey.

Mikey comes first, holding his breath and his head rolling back, he slides onto his back and Ray watches as he strokes himself through it with the practiced air of someone used to coming without drawing attention to himself. Languidly, like a cat, Mikey rolls onto his stomach to watch Ray finish. If he wasn’t so close Ray would be feeling exposed, vulnerable, but his brain is short circuiting, firing bolts of pleasure through his body. He replays the scene he just watched, Mikey on his back, hips bucking up. Mikey meets his gaze and smiles as Ray comes, breathing deeply, holding himself completely still.

[so-many-fandoms.livejournal.com]

Is that icon Gee with blond hair? Like actual blond, not platinum? o-m-g.

I love his smile.

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Dude this is his new look for Comic Con! Check the comms man, that shit is EVERYWHERE on my f-list. dancinbutterfly was there and posted photos. IT'S FUCKING HILARIOUS.

He's also wearing A HAWAIIAN SHIRT. And he wore it TWO DAYS IN A ROW.

I LOVE HIM DESPERATELY.

Charades

[pikasafire.livejournal.com]

I... totally just realised I wrote number #3 for gala_apples.

But i'm totally gonna fill number #4!! I want to write a series of ficlets where the boys all play board games, until Bob slowly but systematically throws all the games out of the window and they have to settle for other games. So, I present to you a drabble of Gerard failing at charades.

*

Gerard grins, puts his hand in front of his mouth, wriggling his fingers about and staring at them all expectantly.

"Teeth?"

"Uh. Tentacles?"

"Tentacle porn" Frank volunteers. Gerard glares, shakes his head but raises his other hand, index fingers pointing down like fangs, wriggling.

"Oh! Vampire!"

"Bat!"

"Vampire bat"

"uh... Chopsticks?" Everyone turns to look ay Bob.

"Chopsticks?" Frank says after a minute, "how did you get chopsticks?"

Bob frowns, defensive, "Well, it's not like it's a very good charade, is it? Could be anything."

"Hey!" Gerard objects, looking hurt.

"Quiet you, you can't talk in Charades" Frank says, turning back to Bob looking gleeful "Hey, we can tell Gee to shut up, we should play Charades all the time."

"Guys!" Ray tries to bring them all back on track, Gerard still wiggling his fingers hopefully.

"Mikey," Frank sighs, "you're supposed to have some... I don't know, sibling mindmeld or some shit. What the fuck is this supposed to be?" Frank mimics the movement.

Mikey glances up from his sidekick and shrugs. "Dunno." he says seriously, "I'm afraid there are limits to even my powers."

"I don't know." Ray sighs, "toothbrush?"

"Toothbrush!?" Gerard drops his hand, "Come on, Toro!"

"Tarantula?" It's Mikey's only offer, but it seems to mollify Gerard who resumes his charade.

They all watch Gerard in silence, dumbfounded.

"I think time's up." Bob ventures after a few minutes and Frank stares.

"We don't have a timer."

"Shut UP, Iero."

Gerards scowling at all of them, "It was a Walrus, guys. Seriously. It wasn't hard."

They all stare.

"How the fuck was that a Walrus."

"Your... tusk things were pointing the wrong way."

"What?"

Mikey demonstrates, "this is a walrus. This-" he copies what Gerard did, "is you sucking at charades."

"No, really," Ray says, incredulous, "a walrus?!"

Bob watches them argue, Gerard sulking. "No more charades," Bob decides with a sigh.

Re: Charades

[masterpenguin82.livejournal.com]

Dude. Totally happened. Now you gotta go on Sunday so we can play it again!