Here are some top five lists.
Under the cut:
Top five lives Gerard saved.
Top five places to think for a couple of hours.
Top five rappers that should be written into bandom more often. (Includes a lot of youtube links.)
Top five lives Gerard/MCR "saved," from different_shade:
Check out the comment stories people wrote for me, too! I feel really indulged right now, to the degree that I was blushing and flapping my hands at hetrez until she went to bed. elfiepike wrote Frank/Gerard genderfckery that was too long for a comment (!!!), posted here.
Top five lives Gerard saved.
Top five places to think for a couple of hours.
Top five rappers that should be written into bandom more often. (Includes a lot of youtube links.)
Top five lives Gerard/MCR "saved," from different_shade:
- "Gerard," Bert whispers, pressing his cheek against the door. "Let me in." There's no response. There hasn't been any response for the past hour, even when Bert was screaming and pounding his fists against the wood. Gerard's in there, Bert knows, but he won't come out. He won't talk. He won't do anything, apparently, and Bert's supposed to just accept it. Apparently Gerard didn't know him at all.
"Bert." Quinn is crouching down next to him, holding his arms out. Bert says "no, no," even as he puts his arms out to be held, to be picked up, and carried away.
--- - Bob slams the door of the van closed and slaps the side. He turns around and is greeted by a dark mess of hair, a pale round face, and the craziest expression he's ever seen. "Whoa," he says, because whoa.
"You need to come with me," Gerard says. Really, really sincerely.
"Okay," Bob says, which is probably the dumbest thing he has ever said in his life. Apparently Frank -- who is a walking dead man -- told Gerard that Bob wasn't convinced of the philosophy behind their music. Three hours of extremely earnest lecture later -- there are diagrams -- Bob convinces Gerard that he is really, honestly, no seriously I mean it hopeful about the future lives of the teenagers of America. He staggers out of the van that Gerard trapped him in, trips, and faceplants into the dust.
"I feel like we grew together," Gerard says cheerfully.
"Nnnrhghgh," Bob says. Really, really sincerely.
--- - Dr. Gupta is pitching a fit. "What the hell is her problem?" Jane says. The inside of her surgical mask is already hot.
Darnell shakes his head. "Someone lost her Black Parade CD. She seriously can't operate without it."
"Please, it's just music," Jane says, and Darnell's eyes go wide.
"Shut up," he hisses, "she could hear you." Jane grins down at her hands. "Whatever, she's got the best record at the hospital," Darnell continues, "I'm going to pick her up another copy during my break."
--- - Pete's hands are still. He expects them to shake, but what does he know? Everything he knows about OD'ing he knows from movies. Trapt howls out of the stereo, and he leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes.
"You're listening to Q101," the DJ says, using that fake cheerful voice every DJ uses. "That was Trapt, with their new single 'Stand Up.' Their new album comes out in September - check it out, it's sure to be hard." Pete snorts, and his finger hovers over the scan button. He can't believe his sister listens to this shit. "Here's a favorite from our friends at My Chem," the DJ says, and Pete hesitates.
He punches off the radio after the second repetition of the chorus, cutting Gerard off at "what's the worst that I could--" His hands are shaking when he picks up his phone.
--- - Brian's girlfriend is pissed. "That dumb fucking bitch," she spits, pacing back and forth across the room. "That goddamn motherfucking cuntfaced bitch." Gerard just blinks. She wheels on him and says, "Look, I know she's your fiancee. I know. I know you've got some thing for her that makes you like her."
"Sure," Gerard says.
"But I'm going to kill her." She stops, puts her hands on her head, and seems to have a revelation. "No. No, I'm going to beat the shit out of her. She thinks the history of black oppression is funny? I'm going to show her how funny it was." She picks up the closest object -- a chair -- and starts for the door.
"Hey, wait," Gerard says, and it's testament to how much she likes him that she stops. "Don't."
"How can you possibly think that this is all right? Fuck, you--"
"I don't," Gerard says. "I don't, I promise. It's just." He pauses, fiddles with the the edge of the table. "You can't just beat the stupid out of someone." She snorts. "I mean, it'll make you feel better to beat her up, and. And it'll make my life easier," he says, flushing pink and looking away. "But it won't fix anything. And you'll go to jail." He looks back to her, meeting her eyes. She sighs, sets down the chair, and flops onto it. "I don't want you to go to jail. Brian'll be so sad."
"Okay," she says, "Fuck, kid, you've got to make her apologize."
"It'll happen," he promises. "Anyway, if she doesn't, Brian's better at not getting caught."
- I really like writing papers in coffeeshops. Not at Starbucks, but hodgepodgy sort of places. I have a map of Philadelphia in my head that is all the coffeeshops where I've gotten work done; Big Jar, the Green Line in Powelton, the Green Line on Baltimore, Joe Coffee, Silk City, Kelliann's, Mocha Cafe. Sometimes I'll just hop from one to the next.
- Standing on the Walnut Street bridge, looking at the Schuylkill river. It's choppy there, and the wind is always cold coming off the water. Behind me people pass on foot, chatting amiably about random things. There's the sound the wheels of cars on asphalt and, more distant, trains racketing along.
- The train. Any train. Trains are my favorite form of transportation, hands down. I sleep better on trains, and it's the only place where I don't have to bring a book. This is probably my number one, if this were a hierarchical list.
- Sitting in a tree. I have to find the right tree. There was an apple tree on my old street that I used to sit in all the time, because a branch fit against my back perfectly. There was the Climbing Tree on Haverford's campus; when I got big and brave enough to make it to the farthest point, I would sit up there for hours, reading and thinking.
- Under the bed. When I was five, I got a big girl's bed. I rolled out of it nearly every night. My parents would hear "WHUMP... waaaaaaahhhh," every night, until one night they heard, "WHUMP," and then nothing. I'd stopped even waking up. I grew accustomed to sleeping on the floor, and when I was terrified of the dark (much of my childhood) I would -- contrary to other children -- sleep on the floor, or sometimes under the bed. It's still my answer when I can't sleep and I need to. I have some of my most fantastic thoughts on the floor, anyway, and when I really can't get a paper straight in my head I lie on my back and look up at the ceiling to think.
- Lupe Fiasco. Here, I will link to gigantic's primer again. Someone write me Stump/Fiasco! Look at that pairing name, how can you resist? They are both music nerds, guys, and Lupe looks at Patrick like Pete does. Plus I really love someone who thinks intelligently about rap, and owns his opinions without necessarily believing that he's always right. I'm also really obsessed with Superstar right now - talk about investigating the role of the (endlessly reproducible) image in our contemporary fantasy life, even our epistemology. Fuck yeah, y'know?
- Jay-Z. I know, HOVA? But that picture of him with a cheesily grinning Gerard always makes me think of gen-type stories where Jay-Z just kind of adores him, and Gerard soaks up the attention. Or, okay, because I am a tool for Rap/Patrick, I would go crazy for a Jay-Z/Patrick story, sweet Lord in heaven.
- Pharrell Williams. I'm sorry, have you seen the man? He and P. Wentz are MFEO. And Pharrell would totally own Pete's ass, metaphorically and literally. He is one charming dude, and has so much effing talent he makes Patrick look normal. Sometimes I have issues with some of his politics, but that almost makes me more interested in reading stories about him.
- Lady Sov. I think she'd be an interesting addition, because she's so opinionated, to the point that she's made some serious enemies. She's got that grime genre attitude that would clash interestingly with the (often) commercially driven work of the bandom boys. And she's so intensely talented, too.
- M.I.A. Another apparent mercurial personality, who has fascinating opinions and a totally badass attitude towards the world. I'd love to see Travis get shut down by her.
Other possibilities: Lil' Wayne (except that I kind of adore him and would be picky about canon), Deep Dickollective (because. um. I'm crazy for them?), Katastrophe (because he's hot and the politics would please me so hard), Busdriver (for purely embarrassing crush reasons), Bubba Sparxxx (for the class issues, and god, his second album was tight), and Missy Elliot (but see note about Lil' Wayne).
Check out the comment stories people wrote for me, too! I feel really indulged right now, to the degree that I was blushing and flapping my hands at hetrez until she went to bed. elfiepike wrote Frank/Gerard genderfckery that was too long for a comment (!!!), posted here.