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Ahahahahaha MEME.
So let's see what happens if I just pretend it hasn't been MONTHS since my last post and I just post a meme because it sounds fun and ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
melusina told me to.
*JAZZ HANDS*
Give me a link or title to one of my fics (any 'verse/any fandom), and I'll give you a detail that didn't make it into the fic - it could be background canon, deleted material (if I have it), a look into the future - or ask me a question about inspiration, the writing process, research.
Most of my fic can be found here: My AO3 Works. I really should update my LJ/DW masterlist sometime...
HIT ME!
*sound of crickets chirping*
melusina told me to.*JAZZ HANDS*
Give me a link or title to one of my fics (any 'verse/any fandom), and I'll give you a detail that didn't make it into the fic - it could be background canon, deleted material (if I have it), a look into the future - or ask me a question about inspiration, the writing process, research.
Most of my fic can be found here: My AO3 Works. I really should update my LJ/DW masterlist sometime...
HIT ME!
*sound of crickets chirping*
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Also, *hugggggs* Missed you, babe. <33333
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Ooooooh tricky! You know more about the unpublished hookerverse than anyone, I'm not sure if I've got anything you wouldn't already know.
You already know that after the first story Brian offers Frank Lero a job as a runner for the tour and Frank says no, he doesn't want his charity even though Brian insists it isn't charity, they were looking for someone anyway. You already know that it takes a while for Frank to change his mind, and join the tour.
In the gap between that story and Take What You Want Frank finds his place on the team, keeps a low profile, learns everyone's coffee orders, makes himself indispensible. The guys are all careful not to baby him and make a concerted effort to not get the two Frank's confused. It still happens anyway, and Frank doesn't always have the heart to shrug off a sleepy Gerard who's half in his lap. And whether he'll admit it or not he starts to fall for them, all of them, increment by increment.
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Alternately, I'd love to know anything at all about A Little Infamy.
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Of course they talk it out endlessly before it happens, trying to figure out what they're both comfortable with, Pete asking a million times if Patrick is really, really sure he's okay with it.
The thing is, as much as Patrick protests that of course, he's fine, they'll be fine, it'll be great - he doesn't actually know that for sure, doesn't know he's okay with it until he watches Pete and Mikey kissing and realises, yeah, okay, he's totally fine with this and goddamn that's hot.
It's even better fucking them both when he's himself enough to pay attention, to really feel it and enjoy it.
The next time it happens the invitation comes from Patrick to Mikey, and Pete doesn't know what hit him.
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Please tell me something about In Production.
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Okay, In Production. There was a whole bit where they were going to shoot in Paris for a few weeks after they were done on the Gold Coast, and it was basically two weeks of them shooting stunts at the eiffel tower and Gerard and Brian having lots of amazing sex in pretty Parisian hotels, visiting Jim Morrison's grave, stealing kisses in the catacombs, that kind of thing.
In the end, when I tried to write it there was just no plot development and the story kind of stagnated, so I just ditched the whole thing and had a VFX unit go there to shoot plates instead (which is probably what would have happened in the real world anyway) and had the guys go straight back to LA for post production instead. :)
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Okay, here you go. Not a lot and it ends pretty suddenly when I realised it wasn't going anywhere, and not much in the way of porn. My apologies:
***
Paris sucks. Okay, not the city itself. The city itself is pretty and there are lots of big things to climb up on and look down from and you can’t fault the pastries but it’s a total nightmare to shoot in.
It doesn’t help that they’re shooting at the number one tourist attraction in the city and if one more guy comes at Gerard shaking a wire ring full of baby Eiffel Towers he’s going to say ‘fuck diplomatic relations’ and just scream his lungs out, uncaring of getting their shooting permit revoked. Their very expensive shooting permit.
It’s only now that everything they’re doing is happening so slowly they might as well be underwater that Gerard realizes just how on fire his crew on the Gold Coast was. Sure, they were in the controlled conditions of the studio and didn’t have to deal with language barriers and interpreters and squillions of touristy onlookers, but even still. They got more done in day than Gerard’s getting in a week.
Luckily there isn’t much to shoot. Only two proper scenes on the ground and the rest is all Visual Effects backgrounds they’ll shove behind the bluescreen stuff they shot in the studio. Which means Gerard really only has three days with actors and dialogue and the rest of the time it’s the Andy Hurley show, the Visual Effects Supervisor getting Ray to stick the camera in all sorts of awkward places, taking lots of measurements and shooting lots and lots of empty frames. He does a few slap-together composites on occasion, throwing the studio bluescreen footage up and keying out the blue so Gerard can see what the pieces look like together, but that’s only about five interesting minutes for every five hours of boredom.
Gerard knows he probably doesn’t have to be onset for all the plate shooting, but he likes to be and he very occasionally gets to contribute something useful to Andy’s Let’s Shoot The Eiffel Tower From Every Imaginable Angle crusade. That doesn’t mean he’s not bored out of his mind and exhausted by the time he gets back to his accommodation of an evening. Doing nothing all day is more tiring than being run off his feet it seems. He can’t even go and hide out in Bob’s suite because Bob’s already back in LA, pulling his Editor’s cut together safely ensconced on the Universal Pictures lot. It wasn’t going to be worth the expense of setting him up in Paris for two short weeks.
So workwise, Paris sucks.
On a more personal note, Paris is fucking awesome.
There’s only a handful of stunts in the Paris scenes, but that means Brian is there. Brian’s staying at the same hotel as Gerard. On the same floor. Gerard thinks maybe, possibly he should be sending the travel co-ordinator flowers and a Thank You card for that, even though it makes him worry a lot about what’s on the whiteboard. Mikey won’t tell him, apparently he didn’t see it before leaving Australia and Gerard’s not sure whether to believe him.
He’s come a long way from being so nervous about Brian being on set he might as well be wearing a sign around his neck that said “fucking the stuntie”. Quite the opposite. It was surprisingly easy to fall back into their established set rapport and keep everything work-oriented. Well, almost everything, Gerard can’t be expected to not occasionally stop to ‘take in the view’, particularly when Brian starts to shed layers of clothing. And then there’s that time they stole away for mutual handjobs in the summit bathroom. But come on, it’s not every day you get to have an orgasm at the top of the Eiffel Tower. That’s memorable shit. It was on their lunch break anyway and Gerard’s personal time is his own business.
It’s hard to worry over just about anything though, when Gerard steps into his hotel suite at the end of a thirteen hour day and Brian’s in his kitchen, wearing nothing but a towel knotted low on his hips, hair still damp from the shower. He greets Gerard with a kiss that could easily turn into more, and it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve fucked on this particular kitchen counter. The whole Paris unit has had a honeymoon flavour and Gerard hasn’t had to sleep alone since his last night in Australia.
Brian eases the kiss to an end, sucking hard on Gerard's lower lip in that way he knows undoes him and fuck yeah, Gerard could definitely do the kitchen counter sex thing again. It would take very little convincing.
"You working this weekend?" Brian asks, absently stroking the back of Gerard's neck in a way that makes Gerard want to purr.
"Nah. If Andy's got more goddamn angles he needs I'm sure he can get by without me. I think my most creative contribution to the plate unit so far has been 'can we see more of those big wheels because they look cool?'" That makes Brian smile and fuck if Gerard knows how he just keeps getting better looking every day.
"We should do something dumb and touristy then."
Gerard hums in agreement, his mouth hunting down Brian's cheek, muttering into his neck, "I love dumb and touristy."
"Sacre Coure, Montemarte, Arc D' Triomphe..." Brian starts rattling off options, his voice vibrating under Gerard's mouth. "Pere Lachaise cemetery-"
"Cemetary?" Gerard's voice peaks up with excitement as he startles upright, tearing his lips away from Brian's skin. "Did you say cemetery?"
"Jesus, you are so creepy." Brian shakes his head, but there's laughter in his voice. "All of the fucking city of romance at your doorstep and you get excited about going to a cemetery."
"Yeah, but that's where Jim Morrison's buried. And Oscar Wilde. We should totally go there." Gerard follows up this decree with his most charming smile, making Brian roll his eyes and shake his head.
"Fine. I guess we're going to the cemetery then."
"Awesome." Gerard grins widely, trailing his fingers down Brian's chest to his waist, unknotting the towel and letting it fall to the floor. Then he takes full advantage of having a naked Brian in his kitchen.
Because there's always time for kitchen counter sex.
***
Gerard has to get lessons from Mikey on how to use Google Maps on his phone to navigate their way to Pere Lachaise Cemetery. The roaming charges on his phone will no doubt be astronomical and there is a fair amount of Metro-hopping in their journey but it’s all worth it.
Pere Lachaise is beautiful. Peaceful and pretty with skeletal trees reaching for the skies, casting long shadows over the cemetery. It’s sprawling and hilly enough that Gerard keeps finding himself short of breath he wanders the cobbled paths beside Brian. If it weren’t for the odd modern sign, seat or trash can they might’ve stepped through a porthole in time, wandering through the sepultures and gravestones. Gerard finds so many of the names and structures fascinating and they wander aimlessly for at least half an hour before thinking to consult one of the signed maps to seek out the more famed residents of the graveyard.
Brian takes note of the location for Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde and they set off in search. Jim’s grave is easy to find, there’s a small crowd already gathered around it and Gerard speeds his pace, dragging Brian by the arm behind him, not really worried about being seen – what are the chances?
(and that's when I realised it wasn't going anywhere and stopped. *JAZZ HANDS*)
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(And now I'm wondering what Pete and Patrick were up to in Paris! :D)
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Also: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!