Bad to the BoneBad to the Bone3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Gerard Way has what people would call an 'imaginary friend.'
Except he's not imaginary.
Gerard is very sure of this- after all, why would he be anything but real?
His name is Frank, and he's Gerard's only friend in the world.
Besides his little brother, Mikey, who doesn't really count.
The first time he saw Frank was when he was four years old, playing beside the pond in the Way's backyard. He'd been digging around in the mud on the banks, and dipping his stubby little fingers into the algae covered water, squealing at the tiny bugs that scattered away from him, when he'd heard a voice that he didn't recognize.
He looked up, eyes round and curious.
"Hey, kid," said the voice, and then there was a boy sitting across the pond, on the big rock there. Gerard tilted his head. The boy was much older than him, about the age of Brendon, Mrs. Urie's son, who went to the big school for big kids- high school. He had dark hair which curled around his ears and neck, narrowed green eyes, and pi
A B C, Easy As 1 2 3 "Hey, Toro! Wait up!" A voice called and Ray half-turned, taking in the small teenager running up to him whilst shouldering his school bag.A B C, Easy As 1 2 33 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Frank? Where were you all lunch?"
Frank grimaced, catching up to Ray, "The Head's office. Apparently they don't like my new tattoo."
"Huh? What tattoo?"
"The one I just got, dumbass." Frank rolled his eyes; then swore as his bag strap snapped and fell to the gravelly ground below.
"I can't see a tattoo . . .?"
Frank swept his long, black hair back to reveal the black scorpion emblazoned just below his ear on his neck, slightly red around the edges as he bent to pick up his bag, dragging it behind him.
"They were going
The Man of His Dreams: Teaser 1The Man of His Dreams: Teaser 13 years ago in Romance More Like This
Ohhhh yeah I used my icon in a story preview image. Hell yeah.
So...you guys can actually thank the camp counselor named Loki for this particular idea.
See, I'd just finished listening to him ramble about his awesome ideas, then me, him, Frank, and another friend were walking, and somebody (I didn't know them, just a random girl) said, "You crushed my dreams!" to somebody.
And I said offhandedly, "Wouldn't it be weird if there really was a dream crusher?"
Then I brought up the movie In Time, where time literally is money, and Loki and I were saying it was such a good idea but could have been executed much better.
Then, I combined those ideas....what if dreams were money?
See, people need sleep to survive, and the most important part of this sleep is REM (rapid eye movement) which is the stage of sleep in which people dream.
Studies show that without any sleep at all, people can die within 10 days. The side effects before death are staggering as well, and if one is
Guardian Angel - Frikey EpilogueGuardian Angel - Frikey Epilogue3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Walking around as a ghost, passing through people, isn't as fun as one would think. It's rather annoying actually. I was dead, I knew that, who could survive being crushed by a semi that came out of nowhere going plus fifty miles per hour? Well, maybe someone who had luck in life could, but that wasn't me.
The strange thing about being dead is that it wasn't what I pictured. I pictured a grim reaper in a black robe to come for me and take to wherever. I didn't expect to be wandering the streets of town. I sure as hell didn't picture going to my own funeral.
As I was walking around town, I felt something tugging me. It was weird, not having felt anything like it the few days before. I ended up running somehow - one thing's for sure, I was way more fit as a ghost than in life - and ended up at the church Frank's funeral was at years ago.
"What am I doing here?" I asked, mostly myself, not figuring I'd get an answering since I already found out no one can hear me and I can't hear them. As
My Chemical RomanceThey're my best friends, when no one else is thereMy Chemical Romance7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
They're my inspiration, when I'm feeling down
They're my drug, when I need an escape
They're my hope, when I feel like letting go
They're my support, when I feel like no one cares
They're my voice, when I don't know what to say
They're my strength, when I need to be strong
They're my everything, because before them, I was nothing
They're My Chemical Romance.
To you, they may just be a band, but to me they are my heroes.
When I hear them play, I feel like I'm not so alone.
Because they know what I feel.
When I hear their songs, I feel like they took the words right out of my heart.
Because I know what it's like to be fucked up.
And they've shown me, that it's ok.
Because when I think about them, everything always gets a little better.
Because when I hear Gerards voice, I'm not alone.
Because when I hear Bob's drums, I'm not such a freak.
Because when I hear Ray's guitar, I belon
That Boy is Mine: Frerard: OneshotFrank's POV:That Boy is Mine: Frerard: Oneshot2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The first thing I noticed when the Way family walked in through our door was that one of the brothers was incredibly cute. He was exactly the kind of boy I dreamed about; dark haired, not too tall, dressed in tight, black jeans and with eyeliner applied thickly and masterfully. Unfortunately, in my experience, all dream boys are either taken, straight or don't exist. And also unfortunately, this boy looked like the kind who was taken or at least wanted by many…
"Donna, Donald, how good to see you!" my mother gushed, stepping forwards and embracing both Mr and Mrs Way.
She turned to the two boys. "And these must be the famous Way brother's I've heard so much about!"
Dream boy smiled and held out a hand for my mother to take.
"I wouldn't say famous so much as infamous," he laughed modestly, "But yes that would be us. I'm Gerard and this is Mikey."
I'll be honest, I laughed louder and longer than any of the adults just so Gerard would look at me, even if it was only to
Sleep.Sleep.3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Frerard, Sleep songfic. Frank's POV.
I was in a calm place. A park? Yes, a park. It was winter, there was snow everywhere. I didn't feel cold, I didn't feel anything.
I looked around. Nobody I could see. I looked back and saw no footprints on the snow. Didn't know how I ended up there.
I started walking. A face was coming to my mind... it was pretty. The hair was unkempt and the skin, a bit too pale. The eyes stared at me without blinking.
Don't you breath for me I said, even not knowing why.
The face occupying my mind remained impassive. I shook my head, trying to expel it, but I couldn't. I felt something strange when I thought about it, something bad, like guilt. The eyes still seemed to pierce me.
I'm undeserving of your sympathy I said, a little louder, hearing my voice echo in the desert park. 'Cause there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did!
I breathed with difficulty. A pain was clutching my chest, an
Not In the Script .:Frerard Oneshot:.A sigh escapes my lips as I plop down at my desk. What sick person puts math as your first class of the day? I can't wait for English class. That's the first of two classes where I can be more like myself than all my other classes.Not In the Script .:Frerard Oneshot:.4 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Okay guys. We've got some theorems and postulates to copy down today, so get out your binders." The Geometry teacher, Mr. Tops says with a smile, while all the students groan and reach under their desks. I bend down carefully so my earbud doesn't fall out; which would get me caught with my ipod.
"Frank, hand it over." Too late. Mr. Tops is glaring down at me. I look back up at him and grin sheepishly.
"Come on Frank, you know the rules. You'll get it back at the end of class." Groaning, I hand over my precious ipod. How can I get through class without my music?
As I predicted, class dragged on for what seemed like days to me. The bell was music to my ears at this point. I sprang up and ran over to Mr. Tops' desk to recieve my soul back. He turns to me slowl
Waycest: Chocolate Drops 01Waycest: Chocolate Drops 013 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I count my toes. One… Two… Three… Four… Five…
Six… Seven… Eight… Nine…
“Michael… Please, you’re embarrassing me… Honey…”
Ten… I have ten toes, including my big toes, my right one wiggles as I recount it. I finally look up and my brown hair is too long to really see my new dad and brother.
That’s right, my new dad and brother. I don’t really want to think of them as that, but my mom hounded me about how ‘rude’ it is not to call them or consider them family.
But I can see his black hair and gleaming eyes, my new brother. My mom pulls my hair back from my forehead, making my face exposed to them. Once I see them both I blushed intensely.
“Is he always this shy?”
“Oh… No. No!
I'll Be Watching :Frerard:I ran a hand through my hair for the umpteenth time that day, pacing across the wooden floor of my bedroom. I hadn't slept in too long to remember, maybe it was days, maybe it was weeks, I really didn't know, or care. All I could think about was that he wasn't home yet. He promised me he'd come home. He said he would.I'll Be Watching :Frerard:3 years ago in Romance More Like This
I shook my head and sat on our bed quickly, running a hand through my greasy hair again. My husband and I had gotten into a fight and he'd stormed out in a huff, telling me not to wait up for him and that he would be back later.
It had been so long I couldn't tell if he really was coming home. I tried calling him, but his phone always went to voicemail and that only raised my anxiety levels. I couldn't sleep without knowing where my husband was. I couldn't just rest when I didn't know if he was safe or not. He was my everything and I felt empty and lost without him.
I sighed softly and curled up on the bed, hugging his pillow close to me, burying my face in the soft fabri
Frerard Oneshot: Accidents Happen for Good ReasonsFrerard Oneshot: Accidents Happen for Good Reasons3 years ago in Romance More Like This
This is all in Gerard's POV
I toss around in bed, unable to sleep. I turn onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, sighing. I close my eyes but it doesn't help. I can't stop thinking about him. Frank, my best friend who also happens to be the guy I have a major crush on.
I just can't seem to get him out of my head. His short black hair, his gorgeous green eyes, his perfect lipsespecially his lips. I think about those full, pale lips night and day.
I sigh into the silence that is night and turn onto my side, curling up into a ball. I stare into the darkness and then I close my eyes, managing to drift off into a restless slumber.
Frank is walking with me through what looks like a meadow. We're laughing and kicking over the tall daisies and overgrown grass. We stop walking and sit down, just the two of us, the greenery coming just above our heads. He looks at me with those orbs of pure emerald, his eyes searching for something within my hazel ones. He leans in and I feel his perfect
Keep BreathingHe stands on his doorstep, staring out into the rainy street, the world washed over in gray. He could be doing a million different things at that moment, but instead he does nothing. He simply stares, his fingers growing numb. In his hands is a letter, the ripped envelope in his left and a crumpled piece of parchment in his right. Rain drizzles onto his bare feet and stains the back of his white t-shirt with little dots. He could go inside and get himself a cup of coffee, warm up. But he does not. He is frozen.Keep Breathing3 years ago in Romance More Like This
An over whelming sadness has enveloped his body, though he does not shed a single tear. Instead he breathes, in and out, his fingers tightening slightly around the piece of paper.
The day had started out rainy, water pattering on the window, a small figure curled under thick blankets, a messy head of dark hair. But the rain was alright. He could see it out the large bay window in the bedroom as he awoke, specks of water littering the glass. Rain was okay; it meant the world was
CancerI sighed sitting on the couch. I miss him... Each day things get worse... And each day there is nothing I can do about it... I can't help him through this... I can barely help myself with the condition I'm in. Not many people get the news we got. First, we learned i am pregnant. Then... He has cancer.. It's in his lungs. They are not giving him very long.Cancer3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My name is Frank Iero, I am carrying the child of my boyfriend Gerard Way. I visit him everyday. And everyday I see him get worse and worse... The doctors don't think he'll get to see the baby be born... I'm now 4 months pregnant. They say Gerard only has 3 months left... He's been in chemo and everything else for the past 4 months... We spend as much time as we can together. He constantly rubs my belly.
He says the baby is his legacy. And that he wants me to give the baby his art supplies and practically everything he owned. He says that he will live on through our baby.. The idea of him dying breaks my heart. The idea of losing the
Scatologia ::Contest Entry::A weary hand resting on the gear stick, his dyed-red hair blowing fecklessly around his features, Gerard made his way across the oppressive expanse of Battery City. Not that anyone would have recognised that name anymore, not that he'd even heard it uttered in years. His name was Party Poison now and the person who he was before, the life he'd had before, was all but forgotten these days. He was a part of the revolution now, a survivor, a KillJoy. BLind had taken his name away, along with everything that he was, and then the KillJoys had given him a new one, given him back the chance to have an identity.Scatologia ::Contest Entry::4 years ago in Romance More Like This
The acrid luminosity of the neon strip-lights mounted in the tunnel he approached beckoned him, before bathing him completely in uneasy light, as he drove into their depths. The feel of sleaze and degradation they invoked sat uncomfortably alongside the signs they were there to illuminate; stark black and white posters from Better Living Industries declaring that they were 'Building a
Angel, Don't You Cry.Come on angel,Angel, Don't You Cry.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Don't you cry.
Don't cry for me,
Believe these words I say to you.
It gets better.
I know you feel alone
I'm struggling to find you,
To break the ropes that bind you
To a ghost you used to know.
But I can't find you, dear
Don't leave me now.
I can't make it...
You caress my heart,
then break it.
EyesHave you ever felt eyes burning into the back of your head? Eyes penetrating skin, muscle, bone; piercing so tangibly your soul?Eyes7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Hes felt eyes trace; and yearn; and beg to touch.
Hes felt them skimming down the exposed skin of his neck. Place imaginary kisses along that arch; down pale arc of milky white. Eyes that ask to lavish lips on and around his jaw, a shapely cheek. Place hands on slender shoulders and impart the lightest of holds.
Hes felt eyes creating ghost hands to trace down the tops of arms, allow themselves to wander to chest.
Felt those eyes that imagine the sight of his body shivering in response. The eyes of one that can only dream of how wonderful that might feel.
Those eyes relish the lingering gaze that Gerard feels so strongly. And he knows that he is the object of desires unspoken but with every part of their being felt.
On stage he feels them. Drowning out, even, the thousands in front.
They explore most wondrously the curve of his w
The ArtistThe artist sits before judgment and the scoffers,The Artist3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Ignorant to ignorance.
The artist is memories.
The artist is retention.
Never one or the other, the artist is both.
The artist is everything you've never said and everything you didn't want to hear.
The artist is heresy and holiness wrapped in a shield against hypocrisy,
Because the artist is truth.
The artist is what you try to avoid because you're scared of what's hiding in the darkness.
Is a painter.
Sitting before an iron easel
Welded to a steel chair and strapped to the floor with lead shackles.
The painter is a prophet.
The fortuneteller of artistry.
The painter is drenched canvases,
The painter is primaries and secondaries and tertiaries and everything in between,
The painter is an intermediary.
Between picture and letter
The painter is campfire stories
Generations of written and spoken and painted word.
The painter is an artist.
Is a musician.
Tuning melodies to harmonies,
Singing and SunsetsSinging and Sunsets3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Frank Way-Iero was slowly, but surely, losing his ability to see and hear, and his husband, Gerard, was having even a harder time dealing with it than Frank was.
They thought it was caused by the accident they had been in a few weeks earlier, where Frank had nearly smashed his head right through the window of the car, barely missing and slamming it against the dashboard when the car swerved.
He lay in bed, staring at the wall and memorizing the pattern before standing and pushing the sheets off him, the blurry image of them being removed filled him with hope that maybe, just maybe, his sight may return. He heard tiny patters by the door and swung his head around to see the fuzzy image of his husband standing in the doorway, purple splotches of color still covering his beautiful face. Bruises. Bruises from the accident that nearly killed them and left Gerard's brother, Mikey, paralyzed from the waist down.
"Hey, baby." Gerard said, loudly so Frank could hear. Frank smiled and padded acr
The Jetset Life ::Contest:: White noiseThe Jetset Life ::Contest::6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
So What am I supposed to do?
Nothing. Just carry on as you were before. Im just recording this to help with my notes. When I get back Ill go over it all and thats whatll hopefully help me with the book.
A book about me and Gerard... If only wed known at the start. Hell If wed known back then the things we know now Thered be no book for you to write at all.
Silence, followed by a pen tapping lightly on a notebook.
So Frank Lets start at the beginning. How did it go when you first met?
Me and Gerard Well it wasnt something you could call romance. You couldnt exactly attribute it to something big or grand or good. It just Was.
Dyou mind if I smoke?
Not at all.
So yeah Me and Gerard It was the