HI, I'M SICK.

[ladyfoxxx]

So I spent the day curled up on the couch with my doona (duvet or comforter to you foreigners) and trying not to cough. My body has SUCH a sick sense of humour to be doing this NOW.

But the good news is! I have a bebunny! She's crashing here tonight, then tomorrow we're setting off with xclusiveantonym for Manchester where we'll meet up with dancinbutterfly and krisipanics to see those crazy Chimerical Romances again. And again on Saturday in Nottingham with dancinbutterfly because I am INSANE.

So, body, no time to get SICK now! OKAY? I am taking ALL the vitamin C.

In the meantime - have a meme!

Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Feel free to ask about anything and I'll tell you the premise or paste you a tidbit for any of these.

bathroomjerkoffporn
bert
bobflashtelepathy
bobfrank
movieAUbobryan
desertradiopirates
gsf
guynextdoor
hardcandy2
hookerfrank
howitworks2
houseparties_coda
it stopped being a good idea pretty much straight away
jailbait
mcr-misfits
moshpitsex
post-sol-facebook
postTYVsplitfic
ppm
sceneslutmikey
sexisonfire
skeebsgerard
skeleton2
sleepysex
wwbb

Okay, so my filenames aren't all that descriptive, I am wavering as to whether to note the pairings too, or at least the verses since a bunch of them appear to be sequels. Let me know if there's any that sound interesting.

Comments

[bebunny.livejournal.com]

I wish to know all of the knowable for bathroomjerkoffporn...I mean really. However, I could just ask you, you're sitting right here...

You's be well tomorrow, the coach will be warm anyway.

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

WELL CHOSEN oh wise one. Yeah I could totally talk you through it, but if I write it out this way the rest of the internet gets to see it too!

Bathroomjerkoffporn happens to in the dom!Frankie verse. It is one of two fics on that list that live in that verse - you totally sniffed it out! I could explain more, but here is an excerpt:

Gerard's in the bathroom when he gets the message. He's washing his hands after a post-show piss and the buzz of his phone in his back pocket makes his ass vibrate as it echoes loudly off the tiled walls. He doesn't even remember pocketing his phone. His hands are dripping and he swears, flicking water off his hands and wiping them off on his jeans before groping for his phone.

The message is from Frank, which isn't a surprise. The contents are another matter.

I want you to jerk off. Right now.

So you get the general idea...

[liescontinue.livejournal.com]

i'm getting sick too, i've been lying around in bed all day taking absolutely ANYTHING in the house to try and cut off this cold before it emerges full scale. I JUST CAN'T GET SICK NOW! /o\ after wednesday then yeah but not NOW.

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Oh NO! We both have to get better post haste! Are you going to the Manchester or Nottingham shows?

*gives you ALL the vitamin C*

[zada-finn.livejournal.com]

I hope you feel better soon. I'd like to know about, it stopped being a good idea pretty much straight away and/or hookerfrank. Please.

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Ahahahaa. Well "it stopped being a good idea" was one of those ones where it takes the first line of the document as the filename because I didn't bother saving it with one. It's dom!Frankie verse AGAIN (amazing that there are only 2 in this verse on that list and those are the ones people asked for) but it's set immediately after "Price Of Pretty". So it's the fic that deals with the fact Gerard decided to leave his butt plug in and how quickly that STOPPED BEING A GOOD IDEA. Because, you know, all day on a bus. And VIBRATIONS.

And Frank has NO mercy on him. At all.

Once on the bus, Gerard makes a beeline straight for the bunks, but Frank grabs him tight around the wrist, his subtle head shake and level look telling Gerard no way, not allowed. Gerard has to bite his lip to keep from whining at that, because fuck, he just needs to take that thing out, right now.

Frank leans close, forehead brushing across Gerard's. "Got something to say?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow, everything in his manner offering this as a challenge. Gerard fights his burning skin, the thick liquid feeling of his insides and shakes his head, trying to look as blank as possible. Frank's face splits in a grin, muttering , "Good boy," so softly only Gerard can hear, before dragging Gerard into the living area.


And hookerfrank. Ahhh, I really neeed to get back onto that one. It's totally my happy place. It's Gerard/Lyn-Z/Frank and once AGAIN, all porn.

"So how do you want to do this?" Frank asks, "Was there something specific you were looking for?"

"Ummm." They both speak at once, breaking off to smile at each other when they realise they're in harmony. Gerard bumps Lindsey with his shoulder and smiles, taking over. "We haven't really gone into it, I mean, we were just talking about how it might be, you know, hot to try it and so we found your site online and saw your picture and like, Lindsey just picked up the phone." He slides an arm around Lindsey then and squeezes, Lindsey wiggles back against him in reply. "We figured, why wait? Carpe diem and all that." Gerard's nose wrinkles as he smiles.

Carpe fucking diem. Frank likes this guy.

"So here you are." Lindsey chimes in with a smile.

"Yeah, I mean, we didn't really have a plan or anything. I just figured we could, you know," Gerard shrugs, eyes shining in the warm lamplight, "Wing it."

And then... PORN! Which I haven't written. But still. PORN!

[greedy_dancer]

DOONA! Oh my god, I'd totally forgotten that word and I am so happy to see it again! /Aussie nostalgia

Haha I was going to ask about the same exact two as the commenter just above, so instead... whichever you didn't answer in the comment above! and/or gsf, please *g*

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

YES. DOONA! This business of calling it a duvet sounds way too posh.

Well I gave Zada both, so you get the gsf - which was my first ever attempt at GSF with MCR boys (at least one other one up there is a gsf) but I kind of petered out on it. It was the one where I wanted to step it up from a tour bus circle jerk to an actual boypile, but I got stuck on it and haven't really poked it since.

Well Frank's never been one to ignore the elephant in the room.

"Fuck this." He mutters and starts unbuckling his belt.

Suddenly all eyes are on Frank and Ray's looking kind of panicked.

"Woah - what? Frank what are you doing?" Ray's got one splayed hand hovering in front of him trying to block his view of Frank's lower half.

Frank looks at him like he's slow. "I have a boner."

"What? So? What are you just... gonna...?" Ray can't finish the sentence, but he does make a jerking motion with his hand, which pretty much says it all. It also means his hand is no longer blocking Frank's lower half from his view. When Ray realises this he grimaces and shakes and flattens it back to a block again.

"Jesus Ray, it's a dick. We all have one." Frank isn't stopping, he's unbuckled now and reaching for his zip. This action sends Ray's panic level into the stratosphere.

"Frank, fuck! I don't want to watch." In addition to his hovering hand, Ray's turning his head sideways.

"Then don't look." Frank's got his fly open and he pops the button on his jeans. He's wearing briefs underneath, which tent with his arousal as gravity pulls his opened jeans lower. His hand flutters down by his hip like he wants to just shove it in his pants but something's holding him back. He glances around the room, checking in with the rest of his bandmates, eyebrows raised in a pleading expression. "This does not have to be like, you know, a big deal."


Porn should ensue from there. SHOULD. If I ever get unstuck.

[sparklyfiend.livejournal.com]

I feel you on the illness front: I'm voiceless and pitbruised after Birmingham and Glasgow, and willing myself to feel human for Nottingham. Sounds like you've been looking after yourself, I'm sure you'll feel better tomorrow, and the adrenaline of the gig will pump you up as well :]

And because I'm shameless, I would very much like to know more about the MCR-Misfits fic >:D

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Ahahhaa - I am so late to respond, but better late than never. I am STILL sick after my run of 3 MCR gigs and the Planetary Assault Party. But it's worth it to have gone, those are irreplaceable experiences.

Okay, so the MCR-Misfits fic is that crossover I was banging on about a while back - around the same time I started saying very loudly MISFITS IS NOT MY NEW FANDOM. Ever since seeing the show and seeing just how many similarities there are between Simon and Gerard I just want to write fic with them interacting, talking shit about the Smiths and Sci-fi and comic book heroes and needlephobia and possible even slashing them. So of course that formed itself into an idea for a crossover, where I timeline-fuck it so that Gerard goes to a posh art school in London instead of SVA, but he winds up going on a massive bender the night of the huge storm and wakes up having totalled the college art studio but with no memory of doing it. Thus he winds up in the Community Payback program.

Have an excerpt!

Orange is not Gerard's colour.

In fact, no colour is Gerard's colour. He tends to avoid colour. For a wannabe artist he dresses quite monochromatic: Black. Faded black. Grey. Black. More black.

If Mikey were here, he'd say that black is Gerard's colour, and Gerard would say that black isn't a colour, it's a shade - white, black, grey, charcoal - all shades. And Mikey would not-smile, poke Gerard with a pointy limb and call him an art nerd who leans on technicalities.

That's what Mikey would do if he were here. Of course, he's not here. He's back home in Jersey, not here in the locker room of an ancient crumbling community centre, in a postcode with letters in it, in a country so old it has buildings that have been standing longer his own country has had a name. Mikey's not here to see the bright, ugly orange jumpsuit with "COMMUNITY PAYBACK" stencilled messily on the back and a vague mysterious stain down one side.

Gerard holds it up, his nose wrinkling a little. How does this even work? Does he put it on over his clothes, or is he supposed to undress first? He doesn't want to undress. Especially not here, in a locker room that feels so much like high school he's practically getting a ghost wedgie from muscle memory.

"Your head goes here. Hands here. Legs down there." A skinny arm waves in front of his face, gesturing towards the orange suit and brushing Gerard's nose on the way. He glances sideways to the owner of the arm to find a kid about Mikey's age with hair as curly and crazy as Ray's, talking at him in an Irish accent that makes it sound like he's chewing the inside of his mouth. "I know it's very complicated."

[graciexmae.livejournal.com]

Aw, I hope you get better soon. <3

I think I actually recognize a few of these from Googledocs a while back, but I think you should tell me more about "jailbait" and/or "moshpitsex", because they sound very relavent to my interests. :D

I really need to do this meme. I've been putting it off for days.

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Look at me, coming back SO LATE to this party. BUT I'M HERE. Did you do the meme? I don't remember seeing it, but I've been hit and miss on LJ for a while.

Hehehee, of course you have the inside skinny when I actually remember to update my gdocs. Okay, you shall have jailbait, which is the one that I'll likely never finish (or even really start properly) because I think I've lost my mojo for it. It's the fic I desperately want written about that leaked chat between Pete and Ryan Ross, except instead of that leaked chat I want it to be about how Pete has an addiction to searching the internet to look at photos of underage guys with their shirts off. So of course he stumbles upon Ryan's old LJ with all the photos of him camwhoring in his MCR t-shirt (and out of it).

Usually Pete's just happy to look, he never contacts anyone, it's just about the photos, but this kid is so cute he can't help but leave a complimentary message - then the kid contacts him back and they start chatting and getting friendly and then OMG he can't help himself, they agree to meet and Pete KNOWS it's a bad idea, but he can't help himself, he really LIKES this kid, so they meet and it turns out Ryan is like this kid vigilante who's trying to bust perverts on the internet and he films the meeting and tries to blackmail Pete with it - except he didn't realise that Pete was PETE FUCKING WENTZ (and Ryan is totally a fanboy) and now he has to figure out what the fuck to DO with this highly questionable footage he's got. CUE DRAMA HERE. WHICH I HAVEN'T WRITTEN. But I made b_dsaint write it into her Randomverse (http://b-dsaint.livejournal.com/140357.html#cutid5) and she did because she's awesome.

So, yeah, I didn't really get that far with it myself. In fact I got about this far:

Pete likes to think of it as a preference, a taste. Sweet versus salty. Sour versus spicy. It's just what he likes, it's the the way he's wired. It's no worse or better than having a preference for hot cinnamon candy, or interracial porn. It's that simple.

He checks profiles, looks at birthdates, does the backwards calculation. Anything under 1985 is fair game. Old enough to drive, to buy cigarettes, to consent... in most states. These barely-men with their low slouched jeans and tight shirts, shaped hair and bored expressions. Most of the time there's barely even skin showing, but that's fine by Pete. He's just looking, after all.

Except when he's not. Except when he's got a button that needs pressing and there's a boy on the screen who's putting pressure right where he needs it. Except for the times when's lonely and horny and wanting something he can't have, getting lost in his own head, one hand on his cock the other on the mouse.

Those times are just for him. They don't hurt anyone. They don't affect anyone, so they might as well not even have happened. The warm damp tissue goes in the trash and Pete can forget all about it. He might not need it again for weeks or months.

It's been months since he's done it. Tour doesn't leave much time for privacy and photos can't be big enough to make his mouth water on the tiny screen of his sidekick. He's starved of sleep and orgasms when he stretches out on his bed behind a locked door for the first time in recent memory, kicking open old bookmarks on his laptop, searching for something fresh.

Half a dozen broken links and redirected searches later, Pete finds him.

He's new and he's fucking pretty. Looks so young Pete wonders about the birthdate on his profile, but he decided long ago he'll take those numbers at face value. To do otherwise is nothing but a head fuck that'll mess this up for him. Leave him questioning everything until the only answer is to stop looking altogether and he can't do that. He needs this.

[brimtoast.livejournal.com]

I would like to know about hardcandy2, please

Also, isn't there an article circulating the last couple days that zinc helps with cold symptoms? I will go find it.

Here it is (http://pagingdrgupta.blogs.cnn.com/2011/02/15/zinc-may-curb-cold-symptoms/?hpt=T2).

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Awww thanks so much, especially for using your google-fu to find me that article! Can you believe I am STILL sick after all this time? And that I'm only just answering your request NOW? I am the crappest.

But you wanted to know about hardcandy2, so here's the thing - obviously you probably cottoned onto the fact that it's a sequel to Hard Candy (http://ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com/14090.html). I've had a few hit-and-miss attempts at writing it now, I think I've put myself under a lot of pressure because I was quite chuffed with how the first one came out and I want to do it justice.

So the first attempt was this idea that Frank does indeed go back to the peepshow, and becomes something of a regular, and he and Gerard get a real friendship going to the point where half the time he's putting money in the black box just so he can talk to Gerard about comics and shit and they don't even necessarily DO anything. And Frank's become THAT guy, the guy who knows what days Gerard works, what time the place opens, knows the guy at the counter of the sex shop area by name (it's Mikey, Gerard totally got him the job) and the trickyness of him and Gerard trying to make a connection "outside the club" when Frank just feels like a total creeper 'regular' even though Gerard actually likes-likes him.

Now, I did START that one. But then I got to talking with shiningartifact about ideas for a sequel and she ran me through some of hers, the idea the Frank DOES go back to the peepshow once, after his initial visit, because he just can't HELP himself, and he goes back to the booth, puts in the money, hits "3" again only this time when the screen rolls away IT'S NOT GERARD. It's SOMEONE ELSE. And he realises he doesn't want someone else, he only wants Gerard, it's not about the situation, it's the GUY. So he apolgises to the rather confused dude on the other side of the glass and runs the fuck out of there.

So he's outside the club, shaking and pacing and trying to light a cigarette because WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED. What is WRONG with him. He's so distracted he doesn't really hear when someone asks him for a light, just lifts his lighter and flicks it and BAM. There's Gerard, grinning at him from behind an unlit cigarette. Outside the club. Fully dressed. No glass between them. And SHIT. Frank's in trouble now.

Cue faily dating where they are BOTH so nervous they can barely even LOOK at each other and if they ever accidentally brush hands its like setting a limb on FIRE and it's so very G-rated and totally not like that one time in the booth. And eventually there's no-glass-in-the-way sex! Where it's all SO MUCH HOTTER because they've BOTH been thinking about it. A lot.

And yeah, that is likely the way I will go with it, if I EVER get my mojo back for it. But obviously I've spent far too much time THINKING about this fic and not actually WRITING it. I need to work more on the 'writing' part, I think.

But hey, thanks for asking!

[mrsquizzical.livejournal.com]

i wish i felt like creeping under a doona today. but instead i am wishing for air conditioning. /o\

i would very much like to know about bobflashtelepathy....

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Hey I bet it's been so long you've forgotten you even asked! But I'm catching up on comments in the wake of the great MCR Gig/Planetary Go Video Shoot bonanza, and you asked, so I'll answer!

Bobflashtelepathy is one I started to write in answer to this cool prompt (http://community.livejournal.com/anon_lovefest/49277.html?thread=8363389#t8363389) I saw on anon_lovefest. I just liked the idea, and how it might help explain why Bob is always wearing hoodies even when it's sweltering outside. I haven't really sketched much further than some ideas about things that Bob knows that he really DOESN'T want to know about the guys which have been forced upon him via the touch curse.

Excerpt:

It's in the skin.

Bob spends a lot of time staring at his hands, his arms, littered with freckles and light coloured hair. Touch shouldn't be something to be scared of, something to avoid. It's just a sense, one of five. It should be just another part of his day to day experience.

It is for everyone else.

But for Bob, skin to skin touch is like opening a door to a place he usually doesn't want to go. So he avoids it. He wears hoodies every day, even if it's 90 degrees out. He lets everyone think it's because he's body conscious and yeah, he is a little. Even after dropping a bunch of weight when he started drumming he's still not exactly what you'd call body proud, but it's not the driving force behind his ever expanding collection of hoodies and his pulled up socks. Sure he gets teased about it, but it's better than the alternative.

You see, there's things Bob doesn't want to know about his friends, his family, his bandmates. There's things that once they're lodged in his brain, no amount of mental bleach can wash away. And that makes life difficult. Bob doesn't like difficult.

So he keeps the hoodie on, even when he's sweating. He plays the socially awkward hermit who doesn't like to shake hands or hug people. It mostly works. Mostly.

Sometimes he'll slip up, push up the sleeves of his hoodie absently, not realizing he's doing it, leaving his forearms exposed. That was how he found out that Mikey and Alicia had hooked up. Mikey's arm had brushed his, reaching across the counter for coffee creamer and Bob got a flash of Alicia's face - creased up eyes and bitten lips - and it confirmed all the rumours that'd been rolling around the tour for weeks. Now Bob knows how soft her skin felt under Mikey's hands. He knows the light vanilla scent of her perfume, the soft tangle of her hair against Mikey's cheek and the warm press of her breasts against Mikey's chest when he came.

[shiningartifact.livejournal.com]

ahem. moshpit sex, please.

:PPPPPPPP

I hope you feel better, sweetie!!

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

WHY DO YOU ASK ABOUT THINGS YOU ALREADY KNOW ABOUT, HMMM?

You know what moshpit sex, it's your fault I am even writing it. For the viewers at home, (who am I kidding? No one else is reading this!) it's a small chapter from the lesbian!Frankie verse shiningartifact and swiiftly have been teasing us with, and they delightfully allowed me to guest write some sex-in-the-moshpit smut for. So yeah girl!Frankie/Jamia/crossdressing Gerard. Yeah. What can I say, you are PERSUASIVE.

Of course I haven't picked it up in a while. I'll paste an excerpt even though you've ALREADY read this.

Fuck, it's such a tease. They're both right there hot and warm and pressed against her and she can't do anything about it. Who's fucking idea was it to go to a show anyway? They could be naked right now. She pouts, rolling her hips as Frankie whips back around to face forwards, shoving back against her, her belt digging hard into the soft flesh of Jamia's hips as she grinds back against Jamia like this is a fucking hip hop video.

Jamia grunts, groping her hand up under Frankie's shirt, her palm brushing over Frankie's nipples. Fuck, she loves it when Frankie goes braless, especially if it's chill or she's turned on and Jamia can see the hard jut of her nipples through her shirt. Jamia's hands are hidden under Frankie's oversize shirt, so she grasps her tit and squeezes. Two can play this game.

She smiles into Frankie's neck, knowing her low chuckle is carrying hot air all down the back of Frankie's shirt. Under the vibration of the bass and the crowd she can feel Frankie shudder, and then Frankie's pushing back against her, grinding, her head dropping back on Jamia's shoulder, eyes at half mast and her mouth slack. Jamia's head twitches to the side, meeting Frankie's eyes briefly in challenge before the crowd surges sideways, nearly knocking them over.

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

GET BETTER

YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO BE SICK EVEN IF YOU COME DOWN WITH A CASE OF THE PUPPYANDCANDY FLU.


also skeebsgerard, because it sounds like something I've forced upon you.

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Ahahahaa skeebsgerard is totally one you "forced upon me", in that, it's the one I'm writing for you because I owe you that auction fic. It's basically gonna be 3 times Gerard and Matt hooked up. The FIRST time Gerard was totally shitface drunk. He doesn't even remember. But Mikey STILL teases him about it to this day. He was apparently all over poor Matt, not that Matt minded much, Gerard just wishes he could remember, because he hopes he didn't do as badly as he THINKS he might have done. He woke up in his own bunk with his own clothes on and a crashing hangover.

The second time he hooks up with Matt it's years later and Gerard isn't drunk but he totally wishes he was. He's super awkward and ends up talking at Matt for a really long time about like, the monkeys in asia or something until Matt's like FUCK THIS and just goes for it and Gerard is SO FUCKING RELIEVED already. Of course the timing couldn't be worse because even though Gee's been crushing on Matt the entire tour, he waited until the night of their last shared date to make his "move" and so it ends up being just a one off thing. Mikey gives him so much shit for that too.

Of course the third and final time is not just a hookup. It's the start of something BETTER. BIGGER. MORE. I'm thinking maybe they run into each other at an awards show and it's the start of a 'beautiful friendship'.

[delphinapterus.livejournal.com]

I'm hope you're feeling better quick. I like B vitamins for an energy boost. Your show schedual sounds like it's going to be fun.

I'd love to hear about sceneslutmikey.

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Thanks babe - I'm on the Vitamin C and the Vitamin B and I'm trying SO HARD to kick this thing. Sorry for the lateness of this reply - but I made it in the end!

Okay, sceneslutmikey is from a prompt a no_tags - when I got stuck writing Black Satin (http://community.livejournal.com/no_tags/36275.html) I thought, oh fuck it, I'll try writing my prompters OTHER prompt so I have something to fall back on in case I never break this block. The other prompt was - Mikeyway: Early days scene queen Mikey, drunken party hook ups with boys and girls.

So I sketched out a fic, which is probably publishable as is, but I kinda wanted to fix it up before posting it and I never did so it's stuck around in my WIPs folder ever since. It's basically just a bunch of Mikeyway hooking up with like, everyone. A little something like this:


The time with Frank had been a surprise. He'd always heard the same about the tiny, tattooed freak - the word girlfriend - and figured that was it. So when he wound up pressed against him in the moshpit while some local screamos polluted the soundwaves and Frank had pushed back, he figured he'd heard wrong. Frank had climbed up Mikey and grinned at him before attacking him with sweaty lips and too much teeth. They'd done everything they could get away with in the moshpit, over and under clothes, before Frank had said "fuck it" and they'd wound up on a mattress on the floor of the graffiti-covered house Frank shared with two drummers. They'd fucked and sucked all night and Mikey got the chance to trace every one of Frank's many tattoos with lips and fingers.

Turns out Mikey hadn't heard wrong. A cute brunette had showed up the next morning, carrying coffees in to where he and Frank were still naked and nested in the reeking sheets. Frank had introduced her as Jamia and Mikey had shaken off his flight urge because coffee. He'd taken one long sip of the bold blend before carefully putting the cup down and dragging her onto the mattress. She came, hard and wet, under his tongue, her fingers locked in Mikey's hair, with Frank swallowing the noises she made into his own mouth as he kissed her. Mikey's coffee had gone cool by the time he got back to drinking it. He didn't mind.

[lea-ndra.livejournal.com]

ohhh, there are certainly some files on there that I would love to read!!!

moshpitsex? hell yeah.

jailbat? gimme more.

desertradiopriates sounds really good, too.

and "it stopped being a good idea pretty much straight away", because I'm currently working on a file that's called "it was a truly awesome dream but..."

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Hehehe, well I've put out details of the moshpitsex and jailbait and "it stopped being a good idea" docs upthread, so scroll for those, and I'll tell you about desertradiopirates.

Oh lord THIS ONE has been on my plate for a while now. It was supposed to be my entry for the Pete/Mikey happyfic challenge. It's set in the dustverse - my weird, killjoys-origins verse (which got jossed to fuck, but whatever) and it was never meant to be as long as it got. It's basically what happens when Mikey and Ray stumble across Pete in the zones.

Have an excerpt!

He can feel Ray behind him, his blaster hovering in Mikey's peripheral vision as he takes aim. Now Mikey's got time to breathe he can take in the man whose chest shifts under his elbow. He's dark haired and tan skinned and covered in tattoos, which Mikey can see a lot of because he's only wearing a pair of boxers. He's also fucking shit scared.

"Don't kill me, don't kill me, please." His voice is shaky, sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip.

"Does that usually work?" Mikey asks, brow furrowing, his blade still steady.

"What?" Confusion mixes with terror on the guy's face and Mikey feels a tiny stab of conscience.

"Asking the guy with the weapon not to kill you. Does it usually work?"

"Well, I'm not dead, yet." The guy's eyes twitch between Mikey and Ray, sticking on the blaster like it's a bigger threat than the knife Mikey's got pressed against his pulse point.

"And that's a fucking miracle." Ray retorts, drier than the desert they just came from. "You're not using a scrambler, you're stationary and you're broadcasting non-stop. Are you sure you don't have a death wish? Because we could just put you out of your misery right now."

He wiggles the blaster and the guy shrinks back, hitting his head on the wall with a thump that sounds painful.

Mikey glances to the side and he can see the smile Ray's fighting to contain. They were right about this guy. He's totally clueless.

The guy recovers, squinting between the two of them, "Who are you?"

"You first." Mikey counters, still holding the blade steady.

"I'm Pete." He chokes out, sounding less sure than he did a moment ago and Mikey can feel the guy's heart pumping hard under his forearm.

"Okay." With a flick of his thumb, Mikey retracts the blade on his switch and grabs Pete by the neck, shoving him into the blacked-out living room. While Pete stumbles and recovers, Mikey takes two steps to the amp, yanking the headphone jack loose and filling the room with music.

"Where did you get this?" He demands, pitching his voice over the blaring music. He has to fight to concentrate because fuck, hearing it like this - clean and not coated in static - it's amazing. There's no question about the voice now.

"Where did I... what?"

"The music. Who did you steal it from?"

"I didn't steal it. It's mine. It's my fucking band." Pete spits the words out like he's forgotten he's the one who's unarmed and outnumbered.

Mikey has to fight to keep his expression blank, reminding himself this guy could be lying. "If this is your band, where's your singer?" He demands.

All the fight goes out of Pete in that moment and his mouth falls open. He stares at Mikey, at Ray, and back at Mikey. "You know where Patrick is."

It's a statement, not a question.

[turps33.livejournal.com]

This is redundant as I'm reading on twitter too, but have a good time and hope you feel much better!

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Thanks bb!

[desfinado.livejournal.com]

Dude, mcr-misfits?!?! WHAAAAT?!?! :DDDDD

Feel better and have fun! ♥

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

Heee. Dude scroll UP. Or just click here (http://ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com/43124.html?thread=1485684#t1485684).

[morebliss.livejournal.com]

I just read all of these, and oh my. I want ALL of them. Am especially enamoured of dom!Frank. And sceneslut!Mikey. And peepshow!Gerard. And...ALL OF THEM. :D

[camatie.livejournal.com]

"gsf" "hookerfrank" "mcr-misfits" "sceneslutmikey"

WANT. THEM. ALL. NOW. PLEASE.<3

[camatie.livejournal.com]

And wait... THERE'S DOM!FRANK??? I saw the comment above and nearly flipped my shit.

And I realized that you've already given tidbits in the comments, so I'll go back and check them over. :)