schmerica

I am making a list of reasons today is, in fact, secretly a good day. It includes things like "I have Coke to drink" and "Gerard Way exists" and "I got to talk to my

fox1013 last night" and "My mommy sent me a package that not only included the Edward Gorey book I left at home but also a really pretty new skirt and corduroy messenger bag she bought for me" and "One of my housemates was incredibly nice and helpful beyond what I could expect" and "I finally figured out how to do the household chore it is my turn to perform after wandering into the room and staring blankly for two days" and "Even when things really suck, I have friends and am not alone."

♥

So this is one of those posts where someone on your friends list asks for you to give them comment fic, even though they don't have anything to give you in return.

Tomorrow I have three classes, and one of them is a midterm exam and one of them is my really hard class where I really want to impress the professor and one of them I have an important assignment due and basically I am already kind of freaking out about the whole thing and am scared I am going to end up hiding in bed with the covers over my head, and that is the last thing on Earth I want to do, SO.

So I'm thinking bribes are the best way to go here. This actually works on two levels for me: one, nice things make me feel better --> less anxious --> want to earn my reward. Even more, though, it makes me responsible to people I like, want to please, and can't avoid or lie to. Seriously, guys, this is one method where I can make my neuroses work for me. Tomorrow I'll get back from my last class in the evening and sit down to check my friends list I won't think "that person did something nice to me, and I let them down." I will think "That person is awesome! Yay that person!"

Uh, so, all that said, if you wanted to write me comment fic, I would think you were the peachy keen bee's knees. Things I that I happen to be particularly fond of include:

Pete/Mikey, Frank/Bob, Gerard/Ray, Gerard/Bob, Brian/Gerard, Brian/anybody, Pete/Joe, Pete/Mikey/Alicia, Gerard/Lyn-Z, Waycest, Mikeyway/anybody, MCR gen of any kind, underage shenanigans, opposite-sex AUs, gender issues (cross-dressing, trans stuff, gender identity in general, whatever), secret marriages and marriages of convenience, exes who remain best friends, first kisses, awkward handjobs, dudes coming on other dudes' faces, time travel, comic books, cuddling, gangbangs, threesomes, and good-natured mocking.

(Which is to say ... I'm really, really, really easy?)

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Brian's not sure whether Frank's going to fight him or thank him; Frank's shoulders are tight, but he put his hand on Brian's shoulder when he levered himself out of the van. He's got the bag held loosely in his fingers, but he hasn't turned back to see if Brian is following. If it's going to be a fight, Brian won't mind; he'll apologize, move on. He just hates the feeling that he's done his job badly, that he's let somebody -- let Frank -- down.

The door is a little warped, and Brian has to lift up on the doorknob to get the lock to click into place. One day his band won't have stay in shitholes, he thinks, and turns around.

Frank's got his shirt off, bunched in his hands. The way he glances up through his eyelashes, the way he bites his lip, should make him look unsure, but his mouth is curving up at the corners, and his eyes look giddy. "You bought me women's underwear," he says. Brian exhales, relieved, and shrugs.

"You were wearing ugly shit."

"Can I-- I'm kind of drunk," Frank starts, like an explanation, and Brian waves him off.

"Whatever you want. I've got a date with a beer and TV."

Frank takes the bag into the bathroom, but he leaves the door slightly ajar. Brian cracks open a beer and flips on the television, which of course has no selection to speak of; he settles on CNN and scoots back until his back is against the headboard.

The bathroom is just a shower, a toilet, and a towel rack behind a door; there's a counter outside the bathroom with a sink and a mirror that stretches across the wall. Brian didn't even think of this until he's a few sips into his beer, when Frank ducks his head around the doorway and says, "Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"I-- I kind of want the mirror."

"Oh," Brian says, "Did you. Huh. You want me to take off for a little bit?"

"Nah," Frank says. His hair's falling over one eye, and he tosses it back. "If it freaks you out, though, you can leave."

"Can't say it does," Brian says, and turns his eyes back to the TV.

[And, okay, there will be more later, but I have to do laundry and go to NYC, so I knew it would be kind of hard to predict when. Ahahaha wtf self?)

Dude. This is totally awesome and made me do a dorky little dance in my bed when I checked my email this morning. Ugh, Brian and Frank and all of them, and the mix of weirdness and normalcy, and the way Brian goes with things and loves his band a lot, and -- oh man, I am really excited to see what you have next, whenever you do get a chance to continue.

(Also, honestly, I have to ask, what the hell is Mikeyway going to do with that whisk?)

Hi.

why so epic? (3)

Re: why so epic? (3)