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Go0se: Beasts In Repose
REC: They'd all heard the mansion was haunted, but the curse came as a suprise. This was written for the art I made and it's great. Just the right mix of spooky and serious and funny. (2016-09-18)
QUOTE: "Cell phone service is really fucking shit up in the mountains, huh?" is the first thing that Gerard hears the next morning.
He blinked a bit stupidly at Frankie, who was sitting at the fancily-but-rough-hewn wooden table and grimacing at his phone. "I was trying to call J," Frank explained, glancing up, "Just wanted to tell her we got here alright. That was, uh, about twenty minutes ago." He shook the phone in his hand, like that might help, and then set it down with distaste. "Fucking technology."
"...right," Gerard said, and then made a beeline for the coffee maker.
"Oh sorry, dude," Frank said behind him and sounding very far away. "I forgot you hadn’t caffeinated."
Gerard was focused on locating the can of coffee beans that he'd brought from his mom's house in Jersey. It turned out to be in stashed in the upper cupboard; Ray or Frank must've been re-organizing them. He took off the lid gratefully, inhaled the delicious caffeine smell, and then went ahead and filled up the carafe.
Frank was suddenly at his elbow, tapping on his arm. "Watch out with that, man," he said. "I was drinking some this morning and the taste is all off. It has extra iron deposits, or something."
Gerard paused, then shrugged. "I'll make it extra-strong," he said, "That'll cover anything."
"As long as you put a label on that shit. Your extra-strong is going to kill us all."
Gerard shrugged again, declining to answer that particular line of reasoning. It wasn't his problem if none of his band had the capillary-fortitude to withstand how strongly he brewed his caffeine. Except for Mikey, who'd been drinking with Gerard since Mom had let them try some of her morning brew. Mikey and him could have a coffee-drinking contest if either of them had an active deathwish at the same time one day.
He paused for a second, remembering his dream, and then turned to Frank with a small frown. "Have you seen Mikey yet?"
"It's only ten, he's probably still passed out."
"Right, right." Gerard opened the cupboard again and contemplated the assortment of cups and mugs, selected one, then poured himself some motivation and sat down beside Frank to drink it.
Frank took a bite out of his toast and jam. "So I was thinking about that riff that Ray and I were telling you about the other day," he said, half of the syllables muffled by the bread in his mouth and crumbs getting everywhere. (10,210 words)
author:go0se  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:gen  fic:source:fanart  activity:drinking  activity:drug.use  activity:transformation.animate  beings:animals.cats  concept:addiction  concept:music  concept:curse  condition:insomnia  geography:US:Los.Angeles  location:Paramour.Mansion  setting:mansion/palace  relationship:friendship  relationship:brothers  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pov:Gerard  challenge:2016.BBB  +length:medium.10k-20k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2016-09  recced:2016-09 
october 2016 by turlough
SunshineAndRoseWater : A World That Sends You Reeling
REC: Gerard finds that life after the end of the world is scarily like the universe he created for the Danger Days album. A stark take of the Killjoys universe with a hopeful ending. (2016-09-18)
QUOTE: "We should go," Mikey says, standing by the window. He does this most every night. They live in a rather seedy part of the city known as Mechanic's Corner. Nothing about the location is appealing except for the unobstructed view of the desert beyond the City walls.
Gerard collapses heavily on his bed. He's already exhausted by his long day of work, he's too tired to have this argument with Mikey, again.
"There's too much radiation. Nobody can live out there for long."
"Says who?" Mikey's voice still has that far-away thoughtful quality to it. This hasn't become an argument, yet.
"Says scientists, with degrees."
"Who are employed by the government," Mikey counters.
"Christ, Mikey, don't start."
Mikey turns away from the window. "I have a point and you know it."
"No. No you don't." Gerard tugs at his hair is frustration. "For the thousandth time. This isn't Battery City. The government is not BLI. Life is not a comic book."
"Lots of people would disagree with you," Mikey snaps. "Some of the groups out there even call themselves Killjoys."
Gerard throws his hands out in frustration. "I don't give a flying fuck if they start marching and call themselves The Black Parade, we are not - Wait, how do you know what they're called?"
Mikey looks away. "Never mind."
"Look, the point is that there are people out there who aren't just rolling over for a dictatorial government. There are people who are fighting back."
"Against what?" Gerard asks.
"Against this!" Mikey fires back. "Against a government that's got us in a chokehold. Against a dull, grey world where people are existing, not living. You call this bullshit a life?"
Gerard's anger flares. "This 'bullshit' means a life for Bandit. A safe one where she can achieve something and not just run around a desert wasteland. Where she'll live to be older than I ever will. That is what I care about above all else, you selfish piece of shit."
"What happened to you?" Mikey asks.
"I grew the fuck up," Gerard says. "You should too."
Mikey looks tired all of a sudden. A beat down, worn out tired. He looks a lot like Gerard feels.
"Forget it. Get some sleep."
"Mikey." Gerard puts his hand on Mikey's shoulder, but Mikey brushes it off.
"Just... go to bed, Gee. You need sleep." (26,450 words)
author:sunshineandrosewater  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:action/adventure  universe:Danger.Days  time:future  activity:drinking  activity:gun.fights  activity:rescue  beings:kids  concept:apocalypse  concept:dystopia  concept:politics  concept:violence  concept:char.death(past)  condition:injury  geography:US:California  setting:desert  smut:frottage  relationship:brothers  band:My.Chemical.Romance  band:Fall.Out.Boy  pairing:Gerard/Patrick(primary)  pov:Gerard  challenge:2016.BBB  +length:long.20k-50k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2016-09  recced:2016-09 
october 2016 by turlough
LadySmutterella: Passing Fancy
REC: Gerard has a coping strategy when the pressure of touring gets too much. But one night Frank and Mikey walk into the bar he's chosen for the night. A scorchingly hot crossdressing fic with a great Gerard characterisation. And a very sweet ending. (2016-03-13)
QUOTE: Gerard has no idea how he's getting away with this, but they seem oblivious. They're doing this back and forth across him that Gerard's seen them use to devastating effect on a hundred other girls, and he's slightly blurry with his drinks and for just one second he closes his eyes and pretends that he could be their next conquest.
It's a mistake. When he opens his eyes again, Frank has slipped his arm around Gerard's waist and Mikey's hand has crept up under his skirt.
It's shocking - not in what they're doing, but in how much he wants this - and he realizes he needs to get out now.
"I should go." The words don't sound convincing, even to his own ears, and he's not surprised when Frank holds him tighter, Mikey slides his hand further up Gerard's leg.
"C'mon." Frank leans into him, so close that Gerard can feel his breath on his neck as he talks. "One more drink, beautiful." He runs his fingers over Gerard's waist, tucking them under his t-shirt and stroking the soft skin he finds there. "We won't make you do anything you don't want to, I swear."
"One more," Gerard says, even though he knows what a fucking bad idea this is, and Mikey hums with satisfaction and holds out a twenty to the bartender.
It's one drink too many, even for him, and he catches the concerned look the bartender shoots him when he climbs down off the stool and stumbles slightly as he picks up his purse. He doesn't know what to say, though, and in the end it's Frank who shrugs at him.
"We'll get her home safe," he says, and catches Gerard as he stumbles. He has his best trustworthy face on, and Gerard knows just how unconvincing it is, and ends up choking on the laugh he tries to swallow.
They get as far as the outside of the bar before Frank breaks his word, though. (5,000 words)
author:ladysmutterella  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:PWP  activity:crossdressing  activity:drinking  concept:genderfuck  relationship:Waycest  setting:bar/club  setting:on.tour  time:early.days  smut:blowjob  smut:fucking  smut:threesome  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Frank/Gerard/Mikey(primary)  pov:Gerard  +length:short.1k-5k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2016-03  recced:2016-03  !!FAVOURITE.FIC 
april 2016 by turlough
dear_monday: Spun
REC: If there is one thing Gerard hates more than his job at the record store it's his co-workers. But when Brian announces that he's selling the store everything changes. This was so much fun. I laughed and laughed when I read it. The characterisations are perfect, they're all very much themselves just with everything exaggerated - I'm particularly fond of stroppy music snob!Ray. And the dialouge is hilarious. So much bantering and bitching! (And don't miss the art, it's fabulous!) (2015-09-20)
QUOTE: Watching Frank yell at customers always cheers Gerard up. Although, actually, this is nothing on the time two weeks ago when Frank caught a kid shoplifting, discovered that it was a Christina Aguilera CD she was trying to hide under her hoodie, and sent her on her way with as much of the pop section as she could carry - free of charge. Brian was not impressed.
Ray is the next one to arrive, uncharacteristically late. "Sorry, Brian," he calls. "Someone held up that hi-fi store over on Dewitt last night, there was traffic." He turns to Frank. "You mind if I put some music on?"
"What are you, deaf? I got here first, I get to pick the music today." Frank folds his arms stubbornly, but the fact that he's standing on tiptoes to meet Toro's eyes kind of spoils the effect.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought it was just a bunch of idiots with instruments making *noise*," Ray snarks, and Gerard groans inwardly. Not again. It'll be the fifth time this week that they've had this exact argument, word for word, and it's only Tuesday morning.
"Asshole, this is *real* music," retorts Frank. "It's got a *message*, not like all your doom-and-gloom shit."
"Yeah, and the message is that none of these people can *play*!" Ray throws his hands up like he does every time. "Punk's not about music, it's about who can be the most obnoxious! Real music is - is people with *talent*, not these morons who think complaining is the same as social commentary!"
"Motherfucker," Frank growls, "Say that again and I swear to god -"
"ENOUGH," Brian roars from the back office. "Accounts are enough of a pain in the ass without you fuckers! Don't you all have jobs to do?"
Ray skulks off to the stock room, muttering darkly about a decimalized cataloguing system and the kind of Reorganization that merits a capital letter. Toro's job seems to involve a lot of hanging out in the stock room with his headphones on, especially when Frank has won the day's music choice privileges.
Mikey ambles in next, yawning and trying to flatten his hair down. He stands and looks at the stereo for a long moment, a slight frown creasing his forehead. To the experienced Mikey-watcher, this is a sure sign of blinding rage. He turns a blank look on Frank that promises retribution in the form of an entire day of the greatest hits of Blur, then picks up a large box containing a hotchpotch of used CDs and vinyl and carries it over to the door of the stock room. He heaves the door open and a brief blast of Metallica filters out, mingling with the Black Flag still thumping raggedly out of the counter stereo. Ray is chief stock organizer, but Mikey is de facto purchaser of second hand shit. Something about his general aura of hipsterish disdain allows him to get away with paying people half of what their stuff is worth while leaving them with an inexplicable feeling of shame.
Gerard goes back to ignoring the world and nursing his hangover in (relative) peace.
A little later, another guy walks in and makes a beeline for the counter. Frank and Gerard conduct a quick round of rock-paper-scissors, which Frank wins.
"Yours," he mouths at Gerard, who turns reluctantly to face the customer. (25,530 words)
author:dear_monday  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  fic:genre:fluff  fic:source:movie  activity:drinking  activity:performing  activity:robbery  concept:ordinary.lives  occupation:shop.assistant  occupation:musician  relationship:friendship  setting:shop  smut:blowjob  smut:handjob  smut:fucking  geography:US:New.Jersey  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pairing:Mikey/Pete(secondary)  pov:Gerard  challenge:2015.BBB  +length:long.20k-50k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2015-09  recced:2015-09 
september 2015 by turlough
dear_monday: Something Wicked This Way Comes
REC: Strange things are starting to happen, something is coming and hunters and monsters alike are running scared. So Gerard and Mikey pack up their secrets and their nightmares and set out searching for answers. This is an absolutely fantastic story but I'm afraid that I totally lack words to describe exactly how much and why right now. I can just say that I was completely captivated by the living, breathing culture dear_monday have created out of the hunter culture from SPN, New Orleans voodoo, and Lovecraftian horrors. That the Gerard characterisation and the Way brothers relationship were absolute perfection and so were the rest of the characters. And that the atmosphere and settings were all incredibly vivid and engaging. I wanted to go on reading it forever. It's the best story I've read in a long, long time. (2014-09-07) This is an absolutely fantastic story and though I've now read it two times and had plenty of time to come up with something I still pretty much lack words for how wonderful I found it. I was completely captivated by the living, breathing culture dear_monday have created out of the hunter culture from SPN, New Orleans voodoo, and Lovecraftian horrors. The Gerard characterisation and the Way brothers relationship were absolute perfection and so were the rest of the characters. And the atmosphere and settings were all incredibly vivid and engaging. It's the kind of story I just want to roll around and in keep reading forever. (2014-12-11)
QUOTE: Gerard jumps slightly, and looks over to see Ray cautiously poking his head around the door.
"Mm? Oh, yeah. Sorry about that," he says, slightly sheepishly. He feels wrung out now, drained.
Ray shrugs affably, and walks around the table to take a seat opposite Gerard. Under his arm is a leatherbound book the size of a paving slab, and he lays it down with a heavy thump.
"It's all this shit going on," Gerard says, continuing to peel the label off his bottle. It's still almost full, lukewarm and unappetizing now. He drinks some anyway, just for the sake of something to do with his hands. "It's getting to me."
"It's getting to everyone," Ray says absently, heaving the book open. The pages are covered in rows upon rows of dense black glyphs that don't form words in any language Gerard knows, printed on thick, creamy vellum. "Someone should go see the Prophet," adds Ray, looking up at Gerard. Gerard's mouth twitches in the slightest of involuntary grimaces.
"Yeah," he says. "I guess he might..." Gerard trails off, not liking the look in Ray's good eye one bit. "Oh no," he says. "Oh, *hell* no. There is absolutely *no way*."
Ray raises one eyebrow, and returns his attention to the delicately yellowed pages of the enormous tome currently taking up almost half of the kitchen table. Gerard pushes his chair back, its legs scraping loudly on the cracked tiles, and crosses his arms defiantly.
"I am not asking that... that..." Gerard struggles for a suitable curse word to demonstrate the strength of his feelings. "I'm not asking *him* for help," he growls eventually, his lip curling.
Ray ignores him, and carefully turns another page.
"Ray," whines Gerard, leaning forwards and settling his elbows on the table. "Come on, you know I can't do that."
"Oh? Why not?" Ray asks in a maddeningly serene voice, still not looking up.
"Because," Gerard grits out, "He's a creepy, slippery son of a bitch with an ego the size of Mexico, that's why not."
"In other words, because you don't like him." Ray turns back a page and makes a brief note in a nearby pad.
"No, because he's an *asshole*," mutters Gerard, scowling. He pushes his beer away from him in protest, then changes his mind and picks it up again, glaring at Ray over the lip of the bottle. "I'm not going."
Ray exhales slowly, and Gerard can almost hear him slowly counting to ten in his head. Then he looks up, pinning Gerard with an earnest look and tucking a stray curl of hair behind his ear. "Well, someone has to, and it might as well be you. I don't know why you're making it so difficult. He likes you, you know."
"No," Gerard corrects him, through gritted teeth, "He likes *Mikey*."
"Yeah, but surely -"
"Someone say my name?" Mikey ambles back into the sunlit kitchen, tousle-haired, clean-shaven and unusually fresh-smelling, and pours himself languidly into a seat.
"Ray is... suggesting that we go to see the Prophet," Gerard says, pronouncing the last word as if it's something nasty he's just thrown up, and trying furiously to telegraph 'and I would rather deep fry my face' to Mikey. His problem isn't with Mikey being liked, his problem is with Mikey being liked by... *him*. Something happens to the hunters that the Prophet takes a shine to. It's as if he has some sort of strange gravity that draws them into his orbit, and once they're there, they never seem to want to leave. Gerard doesn't know how he does it, if it's brainwashing or mind control or drugs in the food and drink he plies his guests with, but if it happened to Mikey, Gerard would never forgive himself. He can't imagine travelling the east coast's highways and hunting down its monsters without Mikey at his side. He doesn't think he could do it. Come to that, he isn't at all sure he'd even know how. Rumor has it that the Prophet has recently acquired another of Mikey's kind, a boy called William who sometimes knows things he shouldn't and still has dim memories of another world. Maybe the Prophet is collecting them, like exotic pets or particularly fine specimens of butterfly. Gerard suppresses a shudder.
"Oh, are we going to Nevada?" says Mikey vaguely, stretching like a cat. "That'd be cool, we haven't seen him in a while."
"I know," Gerard says, darkly. "It's been real nice."
"We should go," says Mikey, yawning again, apparently completely oblivious to Gerard's evil eye.
"Mikey..." Gerard says pleadingly.
Mikey blinks owlishly at him. "You don't have to come with me," he says. "I don't mind, I'll go by myself if you don't wanna."
"Oh, like hell you will," growls Gerard, instantly switching gears. "Fine. Fine. Let's go. See if I care."
Mikey smirks like it's going out of style. (60,530 words)
author:dear_monday  fandom:Bandom  fandom:Comics.RPS  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  fic:genre:urban.fantasy  fic:genre:horror  fic:genre:action/adventure  activity:drinking  activity:killing/murder  beings:Grant.Morrison  beings:zombies  beings:vampires  beings:changelings  concept:ordinary.lives  concept:char.death.minor  concept:magic  concept:supernatural  concept:violence  condition:PTSD  concept:family  concept:quest  occupation:supernatural.investigator  things:Trans.Am  relationship:brothers  smut:frottage  smut:fucking  smut:blowjob  setting:bar/club  setting:café/diner/restaurant  setting:forest/jungle  setting:road.trip  geography:US:New.Jersey  geography:US:Louisiana  band:My.Chemical.Romance  band:Fall.Out.Boy  band:Leathermouth  band:The.Used  pairing:Bert/Gerard(past)  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pov:Gerard  challenge:2014.BBB  +length:long.50k-100k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2014-09  recced:2014-09  !!FAVOURITE.FIC 
september 2014 by turlough
keeprunning: The Weekend Pancake Report
REC: An alternative take on the breakup of the band. A very nice read. Maybe a little sentimental and it could do with some copyediting but the Frank characterisation is great and I really liked the vivid writing. (2014-08-03)
QUOTE: [S]omewhere along the way, on stage kisses turned into kisses off stage in back hallways and hotel rooms and vans and before he really recognized what was happening, Frank found himself in real and actual love with Gerard. And the bitch of it was - is - that Frank *knows* Gerard feels it too, and right in this moment he can watch him punking out all over his face. It's fucking classic Gerard, and it makes Frank to kiss him and kick him in equal parts.
"You know what, Gerard? Fuck you," Gerard recoils like he's been slapped, and the reaction adds flame to Frank's fury. "*Fuck*. *You*. I'm in love with you, and I have *been in love* with you. For Christ's sake - I loved you when you were a nobody fuck-up from their mom's basement in Jersey and a fucking alcoholic, coke-head asshole. I loved you when you scrapped an entire album I poured my guts into and when I had to stay up all night so you wouldn't *kill yourself* and when you had the flu - Gerard, I held the fucking *bucket for you* in the back of the van all the way to Minnesota. I have washed puke from your *hair* -"
Frank's throat constricts, and whatever he was going to say next chokes off. Frank heaves a huge breath that scrapes at his lungs, and shakes his head. "I do everything for you, Gee, and I throw everything else away. You shit all over me, and I do it. And you have the balls to stand here and tell me I love a motherfucking *idea*? Well, here's some news, Gee:
"The idea of you? *Is not so fucking beautiful.*"
Gerard says nothing. That's the worst part. He just stands there with his palms splayed open in front of him, like he's done it in surprise and gotten stuck there. Everyone is frozen and looking for all the word like they're waiting for a fade to black so they can move into the next scene, but the electrical on the bus has always been pretty damn good. it's Ray who breaks the silence.
"Okay, that's enough," he says, and he's trying to be stern with them but Ray's never had that dad poker-face, and it comes out a lot more pleading than threatening.
The laugh is barking out of Frank before he realizes that it's coming from him. It sounds crazy and sad and he hadn't felt like crying before, but now he really, really does.
"It's not enough, though," he says, "That's the whole fucking point." (9,950 words)
author:keeprunning  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:slash  activity:drinking  concept:music  setting:on.tour  time:the.breakup  time:post-band  geography:US:New.Jersey  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pairing:Frank/Jamia(past)  pairing:Gerard/Lindsey(past)  pov:Frank  +length:medium.5k-10k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2014-08  recced:2014-08 
august 2014 by turlough
cybercandy: Where Is My Mind?
REC: Mikey looses his memory on tour. A nice little eary days story with lots of great band interactions. I really liked the way Mikey and his amnesia were written. How he reacted to finding out he's in a band and the way the thing with Gerard developed. The hopeful ending felt very right. (2014-02-23)
QUOTE: "Head feeling better?" Ray asks when Mikey returns from the filthy restrooms. He's sitting with his back against a tire, sandwich in one, coffee in the other hand.
"Yeah. Enjoying the coffee?" Mikey mumbles. He can tell that mornings aren't his strong point and he's still got the shadow of a headache, although he's not sure if that's still from hitting his head, a hangover or caffeine withdrawal. He's hoping the coffee he's got in the shop will help if it's the latter.
"Coffee's shit, but it's coffee" Ray sighs. Mikey can only nod his agreement. Mornings, he decides, are not friends. They happen too fucking early.
He's half-way finished his coffee when he hears a curse, followed by Gee shouting, "Ow, motherfucker, get off me!" Frank comes tumbling out of the van, followed by a very dishevelled and sleepy looking Gee.
"Coffeeeee" Frank screams, launching himself at Ray who puts a protective hand over his cup, growling, "Get your own, you coffee-stealing freak."
Gee is making grabby hands with his eyes closed and he looks so pitiful that Mikey offers him his cup.
"Did Mikey just give his coffee to Gee?" Frank stage-whispers to Otter, who's in the driver's seat and texting furiously.
"Must've hit his head harder than we thought," Otter mumbles. (3,420 words)
(also at )
author:cybercandy  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  activity:performing  activity:drinking  activity:drug.use  condition:injury  condition:amnesia  relationship:friendship  relationship:brothers  relationship:UST  relationship:Waycest  smut:frottage  setting:on.tour  time:early.days  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Gerard/Mikey(primary)  pov:Mikey  challenge:2013.Bandom.Holidays  +length:short.1k-5k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-12  recced:2014-02 
february 2014 by turlough
rubytuesday5681: Mikey Way's Annoying Older Brother
REC: Gerard's different when he comes back from his first year at art school. Or maybe it's Frank's that different. A very sweet story with a great portrayal of Frank as a young teenager. (2014-02-02)
QUOTE: He surprises himself then by saying out loud, "I don't get it." He thinks he must be drunk. When he's sober he only really talks to Gerard if Gerard's asked him a question or if Frank really needs something from him.
"Hmmm." Gerard's eyes are heavy-lidded. He's obviously more than half-drunk, too. He perks up a bit, eyes brightening as he asks, "What don't you get?"
"Just -" Frank waves a hand, agitated now. "Mikey and Pete." The alcohol is definitely affecting him, because suddenly Frank feels like venting. To *Gerard*. "I mean, it isn't that there's anything wrong with Pete. I guess he's okay to look at, but Mikey acts like he's the coolest dude on earth just because he already has a car and that stupid tattoo."
"I don't know." Gerard scratches his head, thinking for a moment. "I guess the excitement over the car is really the convenience factor. It's nice dating someone who can pick you up whenever they want." Frank isn't able to stop himself from making an exaggerated gagging sound when Gerard says "dating". That makes Gerard smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. Frank suddenly feels hot for no real reason. He pulls off his hoodie and realizes his cheeks feel flushed. Definitely drunk. "And you have to admit," Gerard continues, "Finding a way to get an underage tattoo is pretty badass. I know how hot you are to get ink of your own. Maybe there's a little jealousy there."
"Fuck you," Frank spits out.
Gerard just laughs. "Could be jealousy over more than just ink actually. It really sucks when your best friend starts dating before you. Same thing happened to me when Ray and Christa started dating."
Frank cocks his head to the side. Could this be real? Is Gerard Way actually able to relate to something Frank is going through? How odd. (3,140 words)
author:rubytuesday5681  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  fic:genre:fluff  activity:drinking  beings:teenagers  concept:ordinary.lives  relationship:UST  location:Way.basement  geography:US:New.Jersey  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pairing:Mikey/Pete(secondary)  pov:Frank  challenge:2013.Bandom.Holidays  +length:short.1k-5k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-12  recced:2014-02 
february 2014 by turlough
akamine_chan: Group Hug
REC: James is the luckies motherfucker in the world. A warm and happymaking little glimpse of James Dewees at a party. (2013-12-09)
QUOTE: He tries to move upstream back to the girl with the tattoos, but fails to win against the tide of partiers, so he lets himself be pushed into the living room. He sees the My Chem guys and as he drifts by, he reaches out.
Frankie grabs his hand and pulls him into their space, and there's laughter and trash-talking and Ray's describing some riff he heard, and Mikey and Gerard are explaining an obscure variant of D&D they want to try [...] (398 words)
author:akamine_chan  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:gen  fic:genre:fluff  activity:drinking  relationship:friendship  setting:on.tour  time:early.days  band:My.Chemical.Romance  band:Reggie.and.the.Full.Effect  pov:James.D  +length:short.-1k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-12  recced:2013-12 
december 2013 by turlough
anonymous: The Heart You Need
REC: Frank gets Tested again when he's seven and afterwards he's transfered to a new school where he meets Mikey and Gerard. A totally fabulous Killjoys origin story set in space. With psi powers! It's a fastpaced, well-written story with great characterisations and fantastic worldbuilding, and it doesn't feel even half as long as it is. In fact, I wouldn't mind reading another 90,000 words of their further adventures! (2013-10-13) A totally fabulous Killjoys origin story set in space. With psi powers! It's a fastpaced, well-written story with great characterisations and fantastic worldbuilding, and it's also a great coming-of-age story. Frank's development from young child to teenager-on-the-verge-of-adulthood is wonderfully well-written. His internal voice always feel completely right for his age. Don't be scared by the lenght. It doesn't feel even half as long as it is. In fact, I wouldn't mind reading another 90,000 words of Frank, Gerard, Mikey, and Ray's further adventures! (2013-10-30)
QUOTE: 'Frank?' Gerard's voice pressing against his mind didn't even surprise him; Frank struggled upright, shaking out the arm he'd landed on. 'Are you awake?' Gerard went on, his mind-voice sharp with something - excitement? Or panic? Frank shook his head, trying to settle his thoughts back into place.
'I am now. What is it, what's wrong?' He couldn't help the worry that crept into his own tone; he'd spent the last two days at school trying not to think about what kind of trouble Gerard could be in that he wouldn't let Frank help with. In the dark, with the House and the city asleep around him and Gerard's mind bleeding urgency through their link, it rose up like a wave of dread, threatening to swallow him.
'No, I'm sorry, just -' It was like Gerard cut himself off for a moment, dropping out of the link almost entirely before coming back. 'Did you mean it, that you'd help me? I was gonna - we had it set up, it was gonna be fine, but something happened, I don't even know... We gotta do it now, and Mikey won't stay the fuck home - can you get out, you think? I don't think I can manage myself, not for all of us.'
'What?' Frank couldn't make much sense of that, Gerard's thoughts were jumping about all over the place, but if he needed his help... 'Where are you?' he sent, tilting his head to listen to the house. Apart from Uncle Tony drowsing in front of some holo in the back sitting room, everyone was asleep. Frank fumbled his way over to the closet, grabbing for clothes so he could change out of his pajamas.
'End of your street,' Gerard replied, and, 'Are you sure, Frankie? We could get in trouble, like, *real* trouble.' Frank could feel the excitement that filtered through the link, though, and it sent a little thrill shivering through him too as he scrambled into pants and a hoodie. He reached for his sneakers with his mind, floating them behind him as he cracked open the door and tiptoed down the hall. If he tried to go out the front in the middle of the night, the security monitor would freak, but there was a spot in back by the compound wall...
He had to stop on the back porch to stamp his feet into his shoes, but climbing the tree was easy; he'd done it a hundred times. Getting over the wall was trickier; Frank's hand slipped off the branch too soon, and there was a sickening lurch of falling for a moment before he could gather his wits together and *shove* toward the ground to cushion himself. He still scraped the heels of his hands on the rough gravel of the path, and the Fernandes' watchdog next door started barking from the noise, but Frank took off running and it had shut up by the time he reached the street.
'Gee?' Both the moons were up; it was totally bright, and Frank examined his stinging palms, picking out crumbs of dug-in stone. He wasn't even bleeding; score.
'This way.' It was like a tug on his mind, and Frank turned automatically, trotting up the street. It must be really late; there weren't any shuttlecars out, the air silent and cool. He couldn't see Gerard, but he could feel him, the hum of his mind behind his shields, so Frank only jumped a tiny bit when a hand darted out of the bushes and tugged him off the street. (93,440 words)
author:anonymous  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  fic:genre:action/adventure  activity:drinking  activity:drug.use  activity:gun.fights  activity:moving  activity:rescue  activity:sabotage  beings:Grant.Morrison  beings:kids  beings:teenagers  concept:ordinary.lives  concept:art  concept:dystopia  concept:esp:telepathy  concept:esp:general  concept:mindmeld/soulbond  concept:politics  concept:rebellion  occupation:intern  occupation:businessman  occupation:politician  occupation:rebel  relationship:friendship  relationship:UST  smut:frottage  smut:masturbation  setting:alien.planet  setting:spaceship/spacestation  setting:office  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pov:Frank  challenge:2013.BBB  +length:long.50k-100k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-08  recced:2013-10  !!FAVOURITE.FIC!  universe:Danger.Days 
october 2013 by turlough
ohnoktcsk: And Me Here On the Ground
REC: Frank's worked hard to build a life for himself in the city and he's content with what he has: a job as a bike courier, friends who love to give him shit, and a crush on a professor of art history at the local university. But he's also got a secret - one he's been running from for a long time. This is a fabulous story! A wonderful mix of urban and high fantasy, with fairy tales and domestic fluff added in, and it works and it's glorious. The worldbuilding is fantastic. The mix of the magical and strange with the ordinary and humdrum, and the glimpses we get of both ancient and recent history are totally fascinating. I love the way Frank is written. His growing love of Gerard, his friendship with Dewees and his instant connection with Ray, his wariness of Grant and the old magic, and whatever it is he's trying not to remember - it all make him feel very real and also very likeable. And the climax and conclusion to the story was absolutely fantastic. It was so exciting and intense I read it all in one huge gulp and could literally not look away from the screen. This is definitely my favourite story so far of this wave. (2013-09-22) Best of 2013 - Most Interesting Fantasy AU & Best Frank Characterisation: This is a wonderful mix of urban and high fantasy, with fairy tales and domestic fluff added in. You wouldn't think it could possibly work but it does and it's glorious. It has fantastic worldbuilding, the mix of the magical and strange with the ordinary and humdrum, and the glimpses we get of both ancient and recent history are totally fascinating. Not only is this a fabulous story, it also has an absolutely first class Frank characterisation. His growing love of Gerard, his friendship with Dewees and his instant connection with Ray, his wariness of Grant and the old magic, and whatever it is he's trying not to remember - it all makes him feel very real, very human, and also very likeable. Finally it's also a story that has a truely great ending. The climax and conclusion was so exciting and intense I could literally not look away from the screen when I first read it. I had to read it all in one huge gulp and it's been a long time since I did that. (2014-02-16)
QUOTE: The address on the pickup slip leads him down a winding mess of side streets. It turns out to belong to a shop with dusty windows, tucked into the ground level of an old, faded sandstone building. The sign hanging above the door says, in spidery writing, 'Curiosities'.
A bell tinkles when Frank pushes open the door. The shop looks like it's seen better days; half the shelves are empty, and what's left isn't anything to write home about, all scuffed furniture, tarnished brass, and musty books. The light that filters in through the murky front window is dancing with dust motes.
It's definitely not flashy enough to be the kind of place a wizard would run, so that's something. And hey, no giant spiders yet. Frank's cautiously optimistic.
"Hello?" he calls.
A man steps out from a doorway behind the counter. He's tall and much more well-dressed than Frank would have expected, given the state of the shop he apparently runs, but okay. He gives Frank a calculating look. "Are you from the courier service?"
"That's me." Frank flashes his courier's badge, then reaches into his bag. "I've got a receipt for you to sign, and I'll need to you fill out a delivery slip."
"Of course," the man agrees, placidly. He's got an accent - a Northerner, maybe. "I'll go and fetch the package."
The package, when the man reappears from the back room and sets it on the counter, turns out to be a smallish rectangle wrapped in plain brown paper. In the 'contents' section of the delivery slip, the man writes, 'a naturalist's observations re: the healing properties of mermaid song; rare'.
When Frank picks up the package to tuck it away in his bag, he sees that there's a hand-drawn symbol on the underside. It's simple, but something about it draws Frank's eye. He wonders if it's the curiosity shop's logo, or maybe some sort of guild sign.
Frank's not getting paid to ask questions, though, so he just gives a mental shrug and indicates where the man needs to sign on the delivery slip. His signature is an illegible flourish.
"The shop may be a bit difficult to find," the man warns him, once the paperwork and the payment is all squared away. "And when you do find it, you'll need to knock three times on the left side of the front door. There shouldn't be any problems after that."
"Okay," Frank says, looking over the paperwork for the address and already plotting a route in his head. It's a little weird, but it's not the weirdest delivery instruction he's ever had to follow. It's not even the weirdest delivery instruction he's had to follow this month.
"Also," the man adds, snapping his fingers like he's just remembered, "you'd best avoid taking the parcel near the water. Just in case."
That's weirder, but whatever. Frank can deal.
Frank politely bids the man a good day and heads back out to the street. There's a crow sitting on the handlebars of his bike and giving him a shrewd look. "Fuck off, birdbrain," Frank tells it, shooing it with his hands.
The crow flies away. (32,150 words)
author:ohnoktcsk  fandom:Bandom  fandom:Comics.RPS  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  fic:genre:action/adventure  activity:drinking  activity:rescue  beings:Grant.Morrison  beings:dragons  beings:birds  beings:dryads  concept:ordinary.lives  concept:art  concept:magic  concept:music  things:memories  occupation:courier  occupation:artist/designer  relationship:friendship  relationship:UST  smut:frottage  band:My.Chemical.Romance  band:Fall.Out.Boy  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pov:Frank  challenge:2013.BBB  +length:long.20k-50k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-09  recced:2013-09  !!FAVOURITE.FIC 
september 2013 by turlough
ellen_fremedon: Twenty-Year Man
REC: Lord Ivan Vorpatril and Byerly Vorrutyer, making Vorbarr Sultana safe for (highly limited experiments in) democracy. I haven't read the books (the few things I know about them I learned from AJ Hall's Harry Potter crossover 'Time Shall Not Mend' - part of the Pendleverse) but back in November 2011 someone somewhere recced this in a way that made it sound interesting. And since I was bored at the time I decided to take a look and it *was* interesting. And charming and sweet, with engaging characters and great dialogue. It's hasn't converted me to the fandom in any way, but it has definitely made me look closer at any Ivan/Byerly stories that I come across. (2012-01-07)
QUOTE: Detailed as By's account had been, Ivan thought it was still the abridged version; his eyes were dark-circled, and he had a twitch in one eyelid, like he'd swapped out sleep for coffee one morning too many.
Or, no, not just the one morning. "By, how long can you keep this up?" Ivan asked. "This - this life." He gestured vaguely at the suit and the gloves and the haggard face.
Byerly smiled, the little self-deprecating one that Ivan didn't know how to read. "How long can you keep up yours?" He did sit down then, crossing his feet at the ankles and letting his head fall heavily back. "You've been a Service clown longer than I've been an informer - you must be a twenty-year man by now."
"Depends how you figure it," Ivan said. "For the full officer's pension, they count years in the commission, not in the uniform."
"Oh, my mistake. So you hit your Twenty, Observed, in what, a year?"
"Six months." He hadn't meant it to sound quite so grim.
"And then what?" By wanted to know. "Will they keep you on?"
"They're hardly going to ask me for my resignation. Nepotism still counts for something in the service."
"No," By agreed. "They'll just observe - as an observation - how nice it is to have so many talented young people seeking to enter the profession, and what a pity it is they can't find suitable places for all of them."
Ivan stared. "Dear god. My mother didn't say *that* to you, did she?"
"I don't know why you persist in this delusion that I have anything but a slight social acquaintance with Lady Alys," Byerly demurred.
"I'm so sorry," said Ivan wholeheartedly.
"Don't be. It's true. I'm getting too old to keep chasing around with young hotheads, and I've established exactly the wrong reputation for the old hotheads, the ones who turn respectable and dangerous in middle age, to want me around." He eyed Ivan narrowly. "You, on the other hand -"
"Not a chance," Ivan said. "I don't sell my friends out for money."
"I don't *just* sell them out for the money," By snapped.
"No, you don't. Sorry." Ivan snorted. "You've been of more service to the Imperium than I have." By frowned, and Ivan added, "Don't give me credit for the stunts my cousin's pulled me into."
"Since you insist on it so strenuously, I won't," he agreed. "So, what will you do, Ivan? Fill out your twice-twenty-years fetching coffee? I ask merely for information," he said, when Ivan didn't answer.
"I don't know," Ivan said. "I *like* my job. I just - I don't know how I'll like it in five years, when the people who sign my reports start to get younger than me."
author:ellen_fremedon  fandom:Vorkosigan.Saga  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  activity:drinking  activity:drug.use  concept:politics  condition:PTSD  occupation:military  occupation:spy/secret.agent  occupation:politician  relationship:friendship  relationship:UST  smut:blowjob  setting:mansion/palace  setting:office  pairing:Byerly.Vorrutyer/Ivan.Vorpatril(primary)  pov:Ivan.Vorpatril  challenge:2011.Kink.Bingo  +length:long.20k-50k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2011-07  recced:2012-01 
august 2013 by turlough
gorgeousnerd: Well, I Changed For Good
REC: Frank is a werewolf that changes when it gets cold. Gerard should be one too but isn't. When they meet again ten years later things go both very wrong and very right. This is a wonderful story. Gripping and intense and heartbreaking, with a perfect ending. The characterisations are awesome. Both those of Frank and Gerard as well as those of Ray and Dewees. I particularly found the interaction between Gerard and Ray, and between Frank and Dewees a joy to read. Best friends forever! I also really liked the little canon details included in the story and the way the band's early story was used. I have a feeling this story will be added to my regular re-read list, just like her two earlier werewolf stories have been. (2013-07-14) This is such a wonderful story. Gripping and intense and heartbreaking, and the ending is absolutely perfect. The characterisations of both Frank and Gerard are excellent and the ups and downs of their relationship makes for fascinating reading. I'm also madly in love with the way the friendship between Gerard and Ray and between Frank and Dewees is written. It's definitely one of the high points of the story for me. Something else I really liked was the way small canon details were incorporated into the story and how it used the band's early history. Despite only being a year old I've already re-read it a couple of times and it looks to become a regular among my go-to stories when I'm in need of an engrossing and gripping read. (2014-07-16)
QUOTE: "If you don't like the pizza, I have nachos," Dewees said mildly. Frank chewed angrily in his direction.
The doorbell rang, and Frank froze. Literally. But it was fucking Los Angeles, it *couldn't* get drafty. And even if it could, Frank was in three layers of sweaters in a well-heated house. The goosebumps on his arm were just hangover sensitivity.
"'S open!" Dewees yelled before licking his fingers clean of nacho cheese.
The door slid open, carrying a breeze with it that was... well, it wasn't cold, it never could be this far south, but there was definitely the reminder of cold in the air. It was the kind of chill that always came in the fall, the point that had told Frank for years that it was time to give up on his shit for a few months and run around on all fours.
But it was October, so it was probably just LA's pretensions at being autumn for five seconds. Fucking poser city.
"Hey!" a voice said from behind Frank. Feet were stomping on the floor louder than they should have, but that didn't mean anything. Just dudes making noise. "You already ate half a pizza?"
"That was my bribe to keep Frankie from running off." Dewees was staring at his beer bottle like it would give him the secrets of the universe. "Ray, Frank. Where did Gerard go?"
"Bathroom." A guy with a friendly grin and really intense hair plopped down on the other end of the sofa from Frank, waving a light-up toy sword around. "Hey. I install stereos for Dewees."
Dewees nodded sagely. "I wouldn't have half my business if this guy wasn't around."
The dude - Ray - scrubbed his fingers through his curls. He looked kind of shy, but pleased. Frank gave him a nod as a hello.
"Nice to meet you," Ray said. "Dewees has been talking for weeks about how spectacularly your car died."
"It wasn't spectacular." Frank resisted the urge to scowl. Barely. "It wasn't anything."
Dewees was usually a genius with cars, but even he hadn't been able to exorcise whatever demons or gremlins had fucked with that shit. He'd told Frank it was probably because he'd lost his brains doing stereos for so long and passed it to a friend who knew more about insides, but that hadn't done any good either.
"So where are you from?" Ray asked as he dug into the pepperoni.
Ray looked practically like he could lift off with the smile that spread on his face. "Get out! Me too. And Gerard... Gerard! Frank's from back home."
"For real?"
Frank froze, arm outstretched to grab another slice of pizza. It couldn't be.
The guy who rounded the couch didn't look like the guy from Frank's memory. But then, it had been... fuck, nearly a decade? Frank looked older. This guy didn't, not much. He looked a little leaner, a little more washed, and his hair was definitely not that fire-engine red before.
But his eyes met Frank's, and -
"I'm going to take a piss," Frank blurted, getting to his feet.
Everyone was probably staring at him, but he couldn't turn away from the guy's focus. Gerard. Ray had called him Gerard. How had Frank never known his name? (33,210 words)
(also at )
author:gorgeousnerd  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  fic:genre:angst  fic:source:book  activity:drinking  activity:drug.use  activity:rescue  activity:vehicle.breakdown  beings:werewolves  concept:ordinary.lives  concept:addiction  concept:char.death(temporary)  concept:sobriety  concept:supernatural  condition:illness  condition:injury  things:memories  things:dreams  occupation:writer  occupation:mechanic  smut:handjob  smut:blowjob  smut:fucking  geography:US:Los.Angeles  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pov:Frank  pov:Gerard  challenge:2013.BBB  +length:long.20k-50k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-06  recced:2013-07  !!FAVOURITE.FIC 
july 2013 by turlough
synonomy: Professional Healers
REC: Frank never wanted to be a pediatrician. The one where Frank is a doctor and he and Gerard tries to take things slow. This is such a happymaking story. I love the everyday atmosphere and the slow way their relationship develops. The characterisations are really good and the sex is superhot. I particularly like the way the writer plays with the dom-sub-top-bottom-penetration-penetrated clichés. (2013-07-07)
QUOTE: "Come on, Little Drac. Time to go see the doctor."
Okay, that is probably the most adorable nickname Frank has ever heard, and he's heard a *lot*. He doesn't realize he's grinning until he catches Bob's eye, at which point he tries to school his face into something approaching professional. 'Doctor Iero,' he thinks to himself. 'You are a fucking doctor.'
Drake doesn't move, completely ignoring his father, thumbs clicking furiously. "*Drake*," Mr. Way says pointedly. Still no response. Mr. Way sighs and stands up, looking at Frank apologetically. "Sorry."
Frank waves a hand dismissively. "Kids, right?"
Drake suddenly looks up. "I'm not a *kid*," he says scathingly, as though Frank had just called him a motherfucker or something. "I'm nearly ten."
Frank tries not to laugh. He approaches them, holding out his hand for Drake to shake. "Oh, my apologies, sir. May I call you Drake?"
Drake regards him warily. "You're the doctor?" he asks.
Frank nods. "I am."
Drake stares at him, openly looking him over. Frank's always liked that about kids, the way they don't care at all about what is supposedly socially acceptable. "You don't *look* like a doctor." He wrinkles his nose. "And you smell funny."
"*Drake*," Mr. Way admonishes, face coloring.
Frank does laugh, then. "Yeah, sorry about that. My last patient wasn't anywhere near as grown up as you, see. So, can I call you Drake? You can call me Frank." He still has his hand out. Drake still looks suspicious, but Frank holds his eyes and waits, smiling, and eventually, it pays off. Slowly, cautiously, Drake extends his own smaller hand, puts it in Frank's and shakes for all of a second before pulling it back.
"Okay," he says.
"Cool," Frank says. He turns back to Mr. Way, who seems speechless, mouth open. Frank just smiles and kind of shrugs, gestures again for them to follow him. This time, Drake complies. He trails behind them, face already back in his game, and Mr. Way falls into step next to Frank. Frank has long since stopped being able to smell himself (just his luck that the one time there's a hot guy in his practice he stinks of fucking toddler vomit, *awesome*) but stood close like this, he can just about pick up on Mr. Way's aftershave, or shower gel, or whatever that really nice fruity smell is. Frank has his work cut out acting casual, here.
Mr. Way leans close. "How did you do that?" he asks quietly. "He usually just grunts at me."
Frank tries not to look too pleased with himself. "I'm not just a pretty face."
The noise Mr. Way makes is somewhere between a laugh and a splutter. "I, uh. I love the artwork." He points to the corridor walls. "Under the sea, right? Always goes down well with kids. Drake used to love that movie Finding Nemo when he was younger. Nowadays it's all blood and gore, though. I've seen the kinds of games he plays."
"And you're okay with that?" Frank asks lightly.
Mr. Way kind of shrugs. "I know a lot of parents would probably give me flack for it, but I've always tried to let him make his own decisions. You know, within reason. And to be honest, I can't say I'm surprised. I love that sh- that stuff, myself."
"Yeah, I wouldn't cuss in here, it's an offense punishable by *death*, apparently. And - blood and gore?"
"Horror," Mr. Way clarifies, laughing a little. He talks with his hands a lot, Frank notices. "I mean, as a genre, not so much just blood and gore for the sake of it, but it tends to, like, overlap."
"Ah, so it runs in the family," Frank says, and Mr. Way gives him this shy little smile. 'Fuck, *doctor doctor doctor*.' Frank stops in front of his office, lets them in and shuts the door after them, waving them into the seats in front of his desk. (34,880 words)
author:synonomy  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  activity:drinking  activity:performing  beings:kids  concept:ordinary.lives  concept:addiction  concept:sobriety  occupation:doctor/nurse  occupation:teacher  relationship:UST  smut:blowjob  smut:fucking  smut:gag  setting:clinic/hospital  setting:bar/club  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pov:Frank  challenge:2013.BBB  +length:long.20k-50k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-06  recced:2013-07 
july 2013 by turlough
fleurdeliser & tuesdaysgone: Stay A Little; News Will Find You
REC: Grant is a journalist in New Los Angeles. One morning he stumbles over a club kid passed out in front of his apartment door. Soon Gerard has joined Grant's flock of nameless cats as an unofficial resident and lends his hacking skills to the corporate corruption story Grant's working on. This is a wonderful story. Just the right read for a Sunday afternoon. I love how Grant and his infatuation with Gerard is written. And the way the story portrays Gerard's transition from lost youth to self-assured adult. The futuristic setting is so sharp and vivid and Grant and Gerard's domesticity totally adorable. (2013-06-23)
QUOTE: "Writing what? Letters to mama? Recipes? The great American novel?" This kid is a smartass, christ.
"I'm Scottish, so I wouldn't be writing any great American novels," Grant points out. "And I'm a journalist, if you must know."
Gerard tilts his head to the side, one eye slitting open. "Fuck me sideways, you're the guy from Helix."
"I am the guy," Grant agrees. He gets the weirdest subset of people recognizing him, seriously, but this might take the cake.
"I read that magazine all the time. Jesus. You're, like... incredible."
Grant laughs. "I assume you mean that literally."
"No, I mean. I'm a programm - *hacker*. I swear to god, I've seen some of the stuff you talk about," Gerard explains.
"Sure that's not a side effect of the drugs, kitten?"
"I'm not a fucking burnout," Gerard says witheringly. Pretty rich for a kid who he'd plucked off of his doormat this morning. "I just like to have a good time."
"Found it yet?" Grant questions mildly.
"Found fucking great times," he replies defiantly.
"And the hooking?" Grant turns and asks, eyebrow raised.
Gerard just shrugs. "I like giving blow jobs. Might as well get something else out of it sometimes."
"There's no money in programming?" Grant drawls.
"Not looking like this," Gerard snaps back. "Should I cut my hair and put on a necktie?"
"You can do whatever you want, kitten. Wanna tell me about some of these things you've seen? Wouldn't want to keep you from the clubs, of course. Maybe some other time? An interview will net you at least a decent meal." The kid's too pale, like he hasn't seen a vegetable for a while. And fuck him sideways, Grant is really fucking getting old.
Gerard shrugs. "I can show you. Wouldn't be hard to hack in again. Everyone you write about is stupid. I do actually need to meet up with someone tonight, but I can come back tomorrow." He leans over and snags his boots, shoving his feet back into the scuffed leather, then shrugs into the ugly-as-sin red jacket that matches his hair.
Grant just watches him for a minute before saying, "Oh, and Gerard?" The kid looks up, probably at hearing his actual name. "Knock this time."
Gerard flashes him a smile. "Will do. See you." He's out the door, and Grant turns back to his computer. Well. That was interesting. A cat jumps into his lap, and he pets it. (22,760 words)
author:fleurdeliser  author:tuesdaysgone  fandom:Bandom  fandom:Comics.RPS  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  fic:genre:cyberpunk  activity:drinking  activity:drug.use  activity:detoxing  activity:hacking  activity:cuddling  things:Gerard'  beings:Grant.Morrison  beings:animals.cats  concept:ordinary.lives  concept:addiction  concept:sobriety  condition:overdose  occupation:journalist  occupation:hacker/programmer  occupation:hooker  relationship:UST  relationship:friendship  smut:fucking  smut:blowjob  setting:bar/club  geography:US:Los.Angeles  band:My.Chemical.Romance  band:Mindless.Self.Indulgence  pairing:Gerard/Grant.Morrison(primary)  pov:Grant.Morrison  challenge:2013.BBB  +length:long.20k-50k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-06  recced:2013-06  !!FAVOURITE.FIC 
june 2013 by turlough
tuesdaysgone: Lovers in Combat
REC: Gerard hasn't been the same since the disastrous bout with deadmau5 and his and Frank's relationship is on the rocks. When mysterious businessman Grant Morrison contacts Mad Gear Mechanicals with a sponsorship offer with strings attached, Frank has to decide if he can trust Gerard to get them to the championship. I did the art for this story and I read it three times during the process and now I've read it once again. I still love it enormously. It's got fabulous worldbuilding and wonderful character interactions. I particularly like the way Frank and Gerard's fraught relationship and the friendship between Frank and Ray are written. I also love that the story also has a "real" plot that feels just as important as the romance. And the way Grant is used as a kind of catalyst, both for resovling Mad Gear's situation and the hopeless tangle of Frank and Gerard's relationship, is just right. (2013-06-23)
QUOTE: "We read the news," Frank puts in, earning himself a glare from Gerard.
"The news," Morrison - Grant - muses. "A stellar source of all the truth you could hope to make up. Well, some of it is true, anyway. There was a biofeedback implant. And it was most certainly released too soon, before all of the bugs had been worked out of it. The newspapers won't tell you how I was pressured into that decision, however."
"You resigned," Ray puts in. "Made you look sort of guilty."
"I took responsibility," Grant corrects. "Because it was my name on those chips, after all. My name on the building. I scuttled the company and retired, because I still could do that, at least. I kept working on the chips, though, because I believed in them. And I still do."
Frank looks over at Gerard, who is practically twitching out of his seat next to Frank on the couch, probably biting his tongue to hold back some sort of starry-eyed assurance that he believes in Grant too. "You two need some alone time?" he hisses in Gerard's ear.
"Fuck you," Gerard mumbles.
"That's getting around a bit," Frank comments. "But I'm game if he is." Gerard makes an incoherent noise in response and Frank smirks and tunes back into the conversation. Ray had kept asking questions about the chips, but Mikey is watching Frank and Gerard with narrowed eyes. Frank makes eye contact with Grant, who looks momentarily amused.
"I really don't understand what this has to do with us," Frank admits.
"Of course you don't," Grant replies. "I haven't gotten to the thrilling audiovisual portion of things yet." He smirks and reaches for the controller for the entertainment system, then taps a bit on his tablet. The large wall-mounted screen lights up, at first only displaying static, which Frank soon realizes is a vid-feed from some sort of small surveillance camera. It's showing a familiar setting - the interior of a typical UFC training ring, blocky mecha bodies lit up and waiting for their controllers. The podium is empty at first, but soon an indistinct figure steps up to the controls. It's no one Frank recognizes, and looking around at his teammates, he sees similar expressions on their faces. They're all waiting to see something unusual.
It doesn't take long. The second fighter steps up to his console, but he doesn't sit in the command chair like the first fighter had, just takes an easy stance by the board. He taps on his forearm and a gasp escapes Frank's throat as a blue-white glow coalesces around his arm. He hears gasps from the guys as well and realizes they are all probably drawing the same conclusions.
"No fucking way," Frank says, but the next few seconds of the vid prove him wrong, as the mechas roar to life in the background of the shot. The vid wavers for a few seconds, tilts crazily, and then cuts off.
"That's not possible," Ray adds, looking back at Grant. (25,960 words)
author:tuesdaysgone  fandom:Bandom  fandom:Comics.RPS  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  fic:genre:crossover  fic:genre:action/adventure  universe:Professional.Griefers  activity:brawling  activity:drinking  activity:hacking  activity:kidnapping  activity:sabotage  beings:Grant.Morrison  beings:deadmau5  things:mecha  things:motorbike  concept:ordinary.lives  condition:injury  condition:PTSD  occupation:mechanic  occupation:hacker/programmer  occupation:mecha.fighter  occupation:scientist  relationship:breakup  relationship:friendship  relationship:UST  relationship:poly  smut:fucking  smut:frottage  smut:threesome  geography:US:Los.Angeles  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Frank/Gerard/Grant.Morrison(primary)  pairing:Frank/Grant.Morrison(primary)  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pov:Frank  challenge:2013.BBB  +length:long.20k-50k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-06  recced:2013-06  !!FAVOURITE.FIC  activity:mecha.fighting 
june 2013 by turlough
autoschediastic: Well Okay Then
REC: Ray and Gerard are the last two left in the studio. A fabulous early days PWP. Hot and dirty and totally awesome. I love the way Ray and Gerard's interaction is written. (2013-06-16) Best Porn - Best Recording Studio Fuck: This is such a great early days PWP. It's hot and raw and dirty and very immediate and physical. And I love the way we get to see Gerard through Ray's eyes, his almost unconcious charisma and his enthusiasm and openness in everything he does. (2014-05-14)
QUOTE: He's got a good rhythm going, kinda hypnotic. Gerard shivers when Ray drags blunt nails over his scalp from the base of his skull to his temples, then sighs when the scrape turns to a firm press of fingers.
"This is great," Gerard mumbles. His fingers give an aborted twitch in the direction of the Coke bottle. "It'd be better if you could fuck me out of my head, y'know? Shut it all down. But this is great, too."
Ray's brain stutters in a tiny hop-skip-jump to match the hitch of his fingers. "You're way more fucked than you let on. What the hell's in that Coke?"
"Coke," Gerard snickers, then stops short, squinting up at Ray with one eye. "Wait, what d'you mean, way more fucked? That could've been a genuine come-on, fucker!"
Ray gives him a long, steady look.
"I'm an equal-opportunity fuck," Gerard insists. He jabs a finger at Ray's face. "Don't think I'm the only one! Frankie's jerked off thinking about you playing guitar."
"Frankie's what?" Ray chokes out.
"Yeah," says Gerard, nodding sagely, his eyes slipping shut. "I think Mikes has, too, but he won't tell me."
No matter which direction Ray approaches that, it sorta implies Frank has told him. Which is not a conversation Ray is going to even attempt to imagine.
"Anyway," Gerard says, waving a casual hand, "head rubs."
"Okay," Ray says, his hand resting limply in the crook of Gerard's neck. He shifts a fraction so it's more like a loose hold. Gerard doesn't move. "I mean." Ray's gut swoops as he lifts his thumb to brush the curve of Gerard's jaw. "Okay," he says, "I mean, okay."
"Okay?" Gerard's eyes open one after the other. He squints at Ray again. "Okay, as in you're okay with Frank and Mikey using you for prime masturbatory material? Because, like, on the one hand, it's genuine appreciation of your skill, but on the other -"
"Okay, I can fuck you out of your head," Ray butts in.
Gerard pops up onto his elbows, the left one nearly nailing Ray right in the nuts. "Are you fucking with me?"
"No?" What Ray's doing is trying not to seriously consider Frank's possible motivations for making him go over that one riff again and again and again, while simultaneously propositioning their lead singer for sex. Or maybe he's accepting his lead singer's proposition, he's not sure. (5,230 words)
author:autoschediastic  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:PWP  activity:recording  activity:drinking  relationship:friendship  smut:blowjob  smut:fucking  setting:on.break  time:early.days  band:My.Chemical.Romance  pairing:Gerard/Ray(primary)  pov:Ray  +length:medium.5k-10k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-06  recced:2013-06 
june 2013 by turlough
synonomy: In A Crowded Room
REC: Touring with the Used is pretty much how Frank expected it. Frank and Gerard and anger and jealousy. This really hurt to read but it's so good. synonomy writes fucked up!Frank & Gerard so well. (2013-03-03)
QUOTE: "He's amazing," Gerard says. "And he's his own person, but I think he forgets. Or maybe I do. Because I'm a selfish, self-obsessed, tragic piece of shit."
The lack of venom in his voice makes Frank wince. Makes him press closer, get his hand on Gerard's ribs, back, arm sliding under his. "He's a Way. So are you. You know I -" And christ, this is going to be it, the moment Frank says it.
"Kiss me again," Gerard interrupts. It's like he's melting into Frank, dissolving under the pressure against his spine, letting Frank get their chests together, their knees, their mouths. Gerard tastes like yesterday's alcohol, like smoke and vomit, kinda, like one-too-many. It's awkward, tense, not sexy at all - and Frank can't think. It's like his breath is competing with his pulse and neither's going to win. Gerard pulls back suddenly when Frank tentatively cups his jaw, and he still can't.
"*Fuck*," Gerard huffs, hot against Frank's mouth, eyes shut. "M'sorry, I can't -" He's got his palms flat against Frank's chest, but Frank doesn't move his hand.
"Because of Bert?" *God*, Frank can't fucking stand how he sounds, like he's jealous. He *is*, but that isn't the point. That isn't even close to being *all*.
"Fuck," Gerard repeats on an exhale, eyebrows furrowed above his closed eyelids. "No. We're, he wouldn't -" He swallows thickly and Frank feels it under his hand, feels it in his gut, bright, angry-hot. And then all he's feeling is the flushed skin of Gerard's back, his crooked mouth, the awkward chafing of jeans that comes with getting your thigh pressed up between someone else's. Frank wants him bare, wants him to stop thinking, talking - too many, impossible things. But it seems like this is something he *can* have, at least for now, and he's having it, okay, he's taking it.
"Frank, Frank," Gerard's saying in the pauses for breath, "You should, we, stop -" (2,970 words)
author:synonomy  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:slash  activity:drinking  activity:drug.use  concept:addiction  concept:consent.issues  smut:blowjob  setting:on.tour  tour:2004.Warped  band:My.Chemical.Romance  band:The.Used  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pairing:Bert/Gerard(secondary)  pov:Frank  +length:short.1k-5k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-02  recced:2013-03 
march 2013 by turlough
jjtaylor: Other Lives and Dimensions (Ghost Frank 'verse 3)
REC: This is the last part of an absolutely wonderful trilogy. It's scary and heartbreaking but also sweet and even funny at times. The plot is fascinating and I loved the quiet, bittersweet mood and the lovely, understated writing. I also loved how it started out such a deceptively simple story and the very satisfying way everything tied together in the end. The way Frank and Gerard's strange love story was both central to the plot but not always the focus of the narrative was also a very nice touch. All, in all a completely engrossing and very satisfying read. (2013-02-24)
QUOTE: Gerard wakes with a start. He's fallen asleep, sitting on top of the dryer in the basement, his neck sore from where it had been pressed against the wall at a weird angle. His brain feels strangely dulled, like everything that happens here happens while Gerard's half asleep. Time doesn't move correctly. He's been sitting on the washer for hours or days- and Brian has been eying him, concerned, the entire time.
Bob is leaning a hand on the wall, like he's feeling for something, and ignoring Gerard entirely, which is fine with Gerard, considering the last thing he told Bob was that he didn't want to talk to him. Bob seems to be keeping to that agreement.
"Do you believe in other dimensions?" Bob says.
"You don't have any proof," Schechter says before Gerard answers.
"Ok, then, well you tell me what's going on," Bob says.
Brian says nothing, and Gerard is too confused to have anything to add.
"So, this is another reality?" Gerard says. "With a you and a me and a - wait, is there a Frank?"
"No," Brian says.
"There used to be," Bob says, and Brian shoots him a look. "I'm not going to hide that from him, it's important."
"That there used to be a Frank?" Gerard asks.
"Yeah," Brian says. "He died here. The same time as the other Frank did, in the other apartment."
"Dimension," Bob corrects.
"Whatever," Schechter says.
"But, so, Frank -" Gerard says and then stops. "Are you saying that Frank might be... this Frank?"
"I don't know," Bob says. "I don't understand what's going on with Frank. Look," Bob says, "We're not supposed to be here. I mean, more than the fact that people aren't supposed to cross into other dimensions. We," he says, pointing at all of them, "should not be here," he says, pointing around. "It's bad."
"No shit it's bad," Gerard says. "What about Mikey?"
Brian and Bob share a grave look.
"There's no Mikey," Brian says.
"What do you mean there's no -"
"You don't want me to answer that question, Gerard, ok?"
Brian's right; Gerard really doesn't want to know.
"Something's wrong with this house," Bob says. "Something's really, really wrong."
"What?" Brian says. "What aren't you saying?"
Bob sits on the stack of boxes across from the stairs, and they creak a little. Gerard wonders what's in them. (23,170 words)
author:jjtaylor  fandom:Bandom  fic:category:gen  fic:category:slash  fic:genre:AU  fic:genre:horror  fic:genre:angst  activity:DIY  activity:drinking  activity:exorcism  beings:demons  concept:ordinary.lives  concept:doppelganger  concept:supernatural  concept:char.death(past)  things:dreams  occupation:supernatural.investigator  relationship:established  relationship:friendship  smut:blowjob  smut:handjob  band:My.Chemical.Romance  band:Fall.Out.Boy  pairing:Frank/Gerard(primary)  pairing:Mikey/Pete(secondary)  pairing:Bob/Ray(secondary)  pairing:Frank/James.D(secondary)  pairing:Brian/Gerard(past)  pov:Frank  pov:Gerard  +length:long.20k-50k  !meta:rec:fic  posted:2013-01  recced:2013-02  pairing:Brendon/Frank(secondary)  concept:char.death  universe:Ghost.Frank.verse  !!FAVOURITE.FIC 
february 2013 by turlough

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pairing:gerard/patrick(primary)  pairing:gerard/pete(primary)  pairing:gerard/ray(primary)  pairing:jamia/mike.p(secondary)  pairing:mikey/alicia(secondary)  pairing:mikey/oc(secondary)  pairing:mikey/pete(secondary)  pairing:mikey/ray(primary)  pairing:mikey/ray(secondary)  period:1790s  period:1850s  period:18th.century  period:1930s  period:19th.century  period:20th.century  posted:2007-10  posted:2010-10  posted:2010-11  posted:2010-12  posted:2011-01  posted:2011-02  posted:2011-03  posted:2011-04  posted:2011-05  posted:2011-06  posted:2011-07  posted:2011-08  posted:2011-09  posted:2011-10  posted:2011-11  posted:2011-12  posted:2012-01  posted:2012-02  posted:2012-03  posted:2012-04  posted:2012-06  posted:2012-07  posted:2012-08  posted:2012-09  posted:2012-11  posted:2012-12  posted:2013-01  posted:2013-02  posted:2013-06  posted:2013-08  posted:2013-09  posted:2013-12  posted:2014-08  posted:2014-09  posted:2015-09  posted:2016-03  posted:2016-09  pov:bert  pov:bob  pov:brian  pov:frank  pov:gabe  pov:gerard  pov:grant.morrison  pov:ivan.vorpatril  pov:james.d  pov:mikey  pov:party.poison  pov:pete  pov:ray  recced:2010-12  recced:2011-01  recced:2011-02  recced:2011-04  recced:2011-05  recced:2011-06  recced:2011-07  recced:2011-08  recced:2011-09  recced:2011-10  recced:2011-11  recced:2012-01  recced:2012-02  recced:2012-03  recced:2012-04  recced:2012-05  recced:2012-06  recced:2012-07  recced:2012-08  recced:2012-09  recced:2012-11  recced:2012-12  recced:2013-01  recced:2013-02  recced:2013-03  recced:2013-06  recced:2013-07  recced:2013-09  recced:2013-10  recced:2013-12  recced:2014-02  recced:2014-08  recced:2014-09  recced:2014-10  recced:2015-09  recced:2016-03  recced:2016-09  relationship:breakup  relationship:brothers  relationship:d/s  relationship:established  relationship:friendship  relationship:marriage  relationship:poly  relationship:ust  relationship:waycest  setting:alien.planet  setting:bar/club  setting:beach/lake/ocean  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universe:black.parade  universe:danger.days  universe:ghost.frank.verse  universe:hold.your.heart.verse  universe:ot3.verse  universe:professional.griefers  universe:sharpest.lives.verse 

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