this is just turning into my fic journal
Part one of a WHOLE BUNCH OF FICPOSTS that will appear over the course of this month as I go around finishing works in progress instead of writing my final project. :D?
I Just Want You For My Own
for swiiftly, this is your disgustingly belated Christmas drabble: girl!Frank Iero/girl!Gerard Way; bandom (I'm Not Okay girlverse AU); PG-13. [257 words]
It's always kind of disconcerting to wake up and realize you can't breathe.
Gee splutters and chokes and flails awake and almost falls off the bed, but she doesn't because there's a thing on her. The thing is apparently the reason she can't breathe, because it's grinning at her, and practically buzzing in place with excitement and- oh. It's Frankie, and apparently that was her tongue keeping Gee from breathing.
"Hi," Frankie says, "wake up, motherfucker, it's Christmas."
Gee stares at her. Then she pulls the covers back up over her head. "Five more minutes."
"Nope," Frankie says cheerfully, tugging at the blankets. "Mikey and Alicia are going to be here in like an hour and I want to eat you out before they show up and we have to be hostesses or whatever."
"Frankie," Gee says, and knows she sounds totally whiny and doesn't care, "do you even know what time it is?"
"It's like nine or something," Frankie huffs. "I let you sleep!"
"Then why am I still so tired?" Gee tries to sit up in bed (the better to argue her point) and, fucking ow, realizes her neck's still sore from last- oh. Oh. Right.
Frankie ignores her. "C'mon. Please? It's Christmas and I wanna go down on you."
"That's not actual logic," Gee says, but Frankie's still straddling her and leaning in for a proper kiss, smiling that smile that says trust-me-it'll-be-fucking-awesome that has gotten Gee into so much trouble over the years.
(They're still in bed when Mikey and Alicia show up.)
Like A Zip Gun On Parade
for teh_slush, reposted from tumblr: Gerard + Brendon gen; bandom (Broadway AU); PG. [296 words]
Gerard’s overtired and frustrated and nothing is falling together the way it should and he’s about ready to tell Brian to send everyone home and tear his script in half and call it quits. And then Brendon raises his hand and says, "Suggestion?"
"Brendon," Gerard says, wearily.
"Ten minute break?"
"TEN MINUTE BREAK," Brian says loudly and immediately, before Gerard or anyone else can protest. The cast and crew scatter. Gerard slumps in his seat and closes his eyes.
"So," Brendon says, his voice next to Gerard’s ear. Gerard jumps. "First role you ever wanted to play."
"Albin," Gerard admits with a sigh. "La Cage. You?"
Brendon grins. "Kurt von Trapp. By the time I actually got to be in The Sound of Music I was playing Rolf. Your turn."
"The Emcee in Cabaret."
"Dr. Frank-N-Furter."
Gerard laughs. "You’d be fucking awesome."
Brendon gives him his best "well-how-‘bout-that" Tim Curry eyebrow. "So would you. Ever think about it?"
"Doesn’t, like, everyone?"
"I guess so." Brendon snaps his fingers. "You know who I want to play? Hedwig."
"Of the Angry Inch?"
"Hell yes." Brendon grins. "That movie changed my life."
"Enjolras," Gerard muses. "But again: who doesn’t."
"Galileo."
"We Will Rock You?" Gerard’s almost surprised.
Brendon's smile turns a little sheepish. "I know, I know, jukebox musical. But I’m kind of a die-hard Queen fan, you know?"
"You’d be fantastic." And he really would: Gerard can totally see Brendon bringing the fucking house down with "I Want To Break Free". "And fuck it, I like jukebox musicals."
"I never thought you’d be the Mamma Mia! type."
"American Idiot, actually," Gerard admits. "I kind of want to-"
"Oh my god," Brendon cuts him off, "that is it, you have to play St. Jimmy."
Gerard beams at him.
In Velvet Ropes
for teh_slush because we both enjoy terrible self-indulgent AUs more than we should: Brendon + Singer gen; bandom (songbird AU); PG-13. [669 words]
There's a new boy in the palace - that's the rumor floating around the halls. When you never talk, people subconsciously assume you probably can't hear them either, so they make less of an effort to be quiet around you. Brendon found that out early on. They say his voice is young but full of potential, that he's got the kind of eyes that are windows into his heart. None of them bother to mention his name. Songbirds have them, of course, but most people don't much care what they are.
It's not long before Brendon sees him, at dinner one night. He's in the cage by the king's seat where they keep all the new acquisitions for the first few days, and Brendon remembers kneeling in the same spot, feeling every gaze lingering on him. He's not sure if he seemed quite as small as this one, though. It's not as if he's younger than Brendon expected - and even if he had been, it wouldn't have been a surprise, because not much really surprises Brendon anymore - it's just that he looks so fragile. He's not as skeletal as Ryan, he doesn't have that practiced air of prey that William does, but there's a kind of heartbreaking, terrified apprehension in those eyes that reminds Brendon of himself.
Two nights later, they move the boy to his permanent cage. Brendon hears the footsteps echoing down the halls long before anyone comes into view, and his heart leaps a little when his eyes confirm what his ears thought they knew - it's Spencer escorting him, Brendon knows his footsteps by heart now. He watches them come down the hallway together: Spencer's hand is gentle on the thin silver chain that hangs from the boy's collar, not jerking him around or even leading with any authority but letting him have as much freedom to walk as the chain's length will allow.
Spencer gives Brendon a tiny smile when he catches Brendon looking, and Brendon smiles back at both of them.
The boy doesn't see it. His eyes are trained firmly on the ground, his shoulders drawn tight, and something inside Brendon suddenly hurts.
He reaches out through the bars to grab at Spencer's sleeve as they pass and gives him a look that he hopes says please, let me, let us, just a few minutes clearly enough.
Spencer understands, hesitates, bites his lip, but finally nods and says, "Five minutes, okay?" and nudges the boy in Brendon's direction before moving just around the corner.
Brendon jumps to his feet and reaches out immediately to catch the boy, pulling him as close as the cage will allow (before he runs, because Brendon's seen too many times what happens to the ones who run). His voice is rusty from three days without use, even in a whisper. "What's your name?"
The boy just stares at him, his lips pressed tight together, and Brendon knows what it's like to be that afraid of your own tongue. "No one will hear, it's okay," he says, "it's okay. I promise. I'm Brendon."
"Alex," the boy says, practically soundless. Brendon can feel him shaking.
"Alex," Brendon repeats. "I know what's happening to you, okay? I know what probably just happened to you-"
A sob catches in Alex's throat, and Brendon follows him to the floor as his knees give out.
"-what just happened to you," Brendon continues, swallowing his own memories of that first night and wrapping his arms around Alex's skinny shoulders. "Because it happened to me, too, and I know what it was like, and."
Brendon doesn't like lying. It's never been something he was really good at in any capacity. He takes a deep breath. "And it's going to get better. You'll get used to it, everything stops being as hard, you'll be okay. Everything will be okay."
"Really?" Alex says, and the tiny spark of hope in his voice just cuts Brendon even deeper.
He doesn't meet Alex's big dark heart-window eyes. "Yes." No.
I Just Want You For My Own
for swiiftly, this is your disgustingly belated Christmas drabble: girl!Frank Iero/girl!Gerard Way; bandom (I'm Not Okay girlverse AU); PG-13. [257 words]
It's always kind of disconcerting to wake up and realize you can't breathe.
Gee splutters and chokes and flails awake and almost falls off the bed, but she doesn't because there's a thing on her. The thing is apparently the reason she can't breathe, because it's grinning at her, and practically buzzing in place with excitement and- oh. It's Frankie, and apparently that was her tongue keeping Gee from breathing.
"Hi," Frankie says, "wake up, motherfucker, it's Christmas."
Gee stares at her. Then she pulls the covers back up over her head. "Five more minutes."
"Nope," Frankie says cheerfully, tugging at the blankets. "Mikey and Alicia are going to be here in like an hour and I want to eat you out before they show up and we have to be hostesses or whatever."
"Frankie," Gee says, and knows she sounds totally whiny and doesn't care, "do you even know what time it is?"
"It's like nine or something," Frankie huffs. "I let you sleep!"
"Then why am I still so tired?" Gee tries to sit up in bed (the better to argue her point) and, fucking ow, realizes her neck's still sore from last- oh. Oh. Right.
Frankie ignores her. "C'mon. Please? It's Christmas and I wanna go down on you."
"That's not actual logic," Gee says, but Frankie's still straddling her and leaning in for a proper kiss, smiling that smile that says trust-me-it'll-be-fucking-awesome that has gotten Gee into so much trouble over the years.
(They're still in bed when Mikey and Alicia show up.)
Like A Zip Gun On Parade
for teh_slush, reposted from tumblr: Gerard + Brendon gen; bandom (Broadway AU); PG. [296 words]
Gerard’s overtired and frustrated and nothing is falling together the way it should and he’s about ready to tell Brian to send everyone home and tear his script in half and call it quits. And then Brendon raises his hand and says, "Suggestion?"
"Brendon," Gerard says, wearily.
"Ten minute break?"
"TEN MINUTE BREAK," Brian says loudly and immediately, before Gerard or anyone else can protest. The cast and crew scatter. Gerard slumps in his seat and closes his eyes.
"So," Brendon says, his voice next to Gerard’s ear. Gerard jumps. "First role you ever wanted to play."
"Albin," Gerard admits with a sigh. "La Cage. You?"
Brendon grins. "Kurt von Trapp. By the time I actually got to be in The Sound of Music I was playing Rolf. Your turn."
"The Emcee in Cabaret."
"Dr. Frank-N-Furter."
Gerard laughs. "You’d be fucking awesome."
Brendon gives him his best "well-how-‘bout-that" Tim Curry eyebrow. "So would you. Ever think about it?"
"Doesn’t, like, everyone?"
"I guess so." Brendon snaps his fingers. "You know who I want to play? Hedwig."
"Of the Angry Inch?"
"Hell yes." Brendon grins. "That movie changed my life."
"Enjolras," Gerard muses. "But again: who doesn’t."
"Galileo."
"We Will Rock You?" Gerard’s almost surprised.
Brendon's smile turns a little sheepish. "I know, I know, jukebox musical. But I’m kind of a die-hard Queen fan, you know?"
"You’d be fantastic." And he really would: Gerard can totally see Brendon bringing the fucking house down with "I Want To Break Free". "And fuck it, I like jukebox musicals."
"I never thought you’d be the Mamma Mia! type."
"American Idiot, actually," Gerard admits. "I kind of want to-"
"Oh my god," Brendon cuts him off, "that is it, you have to play St. Jimmy."
Gerard beams at him.
In Velvet Ropes
for teh_slush because we both enjoy terrible self-indulgent AUs more than we should: Brendon + Singer gen; bandom (songbird AU); PG-13. [669 words]
There's a new boy in the palace - that's the rumor floating around the halls. When you never talk, people subconsciously assume you probably can't hear them either, so they make less of an effort to be quiet around you. Brendon found that out early on. They say his voice is young but full of potential, that he's got the kind of eyes that are windows into his heart. None of them bother to mention his name. Songbirds have them, of course, but most people don't much care what they are.
It's not long before Brendon sees him, at dinner one night. He's in the cage by the king's seat where they keep all the new acquisitions for the first few days, and Brendon remembers kneeling in the same spot, feeling every gaze lingering on him. He's not sure if he seemed quite as small as this one, though. It's not as if he's younger than Brendon expected - and even if he had been, it wouldn't have been a surprise, because not much really surprises Brendon anymore - it's just that he looks so fragile. He's not as skeletal as Ryan, he doesn't have that practiced air of prey that William does, but there's a kind of heartbreaking, terrified apprehension in those eyes that reminds Brendon of himself.
Two nights later, they move the boy to his permanent cage. Brendon hears the footsteps echoing down the halls long before anyone comes into view, and his heart leaps a little when his eyes confirm what his ears thought they knew - it's Spencer escorting him, Brendon knows his footsteps by heart now. He watches them come down the hallway together: Spencer's hand is gentle on the thin silver chain that hangs from the boy's collar, not jerking him around or even leading with any authority but letting him have as much freedom to walk as the chain's length will allow.
Spencer gives Brendon a tiny smile when he catches Brendon looking, and Brendon smiles back at both of them.
The boy doesn't see it. His eyes are trained firmly on the ground, his shoulders drawn tight, and something inside Brendon suddenly hurts.
He reaches out through the bars to grab at Spencer's sleeve as they pass and gives him a look that he hopes says please, let me, let us, just a few minutes clearly enough.
Spencer understands, hesitates, bites his lip, but finally nods and says, "Five minutes, okay?" and nudges the boy in Brendon's direction before moving just around the corner.
Brendon jumps to his feet and reaches out immediately to catch the boy, pulling him as close as the cage will allow (before he runs, because Brendon's seen too many times what happens to the ones who run). His voice is rusty from three days without use, even in a whisper. "What's your name?"
The boy just stares at him, his lips pressed tight together, and Brendon knows what it's like to be that afraid of your own tongue. "No one will hear, it's okay," he says, "it's okay. I promise. I'm Brendon."
"Alex," the boy says, practically soundless. Brendon can feel him shaking.
"Alex," Brendon repeats. "I know what's happening to you, okay? I know what probably just happened to you-"
A sob catches in Alex's throat, and Brendon follows him to the floor as his knees give out.
"-what just happened to you," Brendon continues, swallowing his own memories of that first night and wrapping his arms around Alex's skinny shoulders. "Because it happened to me, too, and I know what it was like, and."
Brendon doesn't like lying. It's never been something he was really good at in any capacity. He takes a deep breath. "And it's going to get better. You'll get used to it, everything stops being as hard, you'll be okay. Everything will be okay."
"Really?" Alex says, and the tiny spark of hope in his voice just cuts Brendon even deeper.
He doesn't meet Alex's big dark heart-window eyes. "Yes." No.