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Apr. 10th, 2011

MCR Slash - Gerard/Ray

 Why cleaning is good for Gerard [Gee/Ray]

NC17 - Gee/Ray slash. 
‘You lot!’ the voice rang out from the other end of the bus. Bob, Ray, Mikey and I all looked at each other. That tone of voice was well known by teenagers throughout the land. It struck fear in the hearts of youth everywhere. It was the tone that said you’re in trouble. 

We all scampered up from the sofas and down the length of our bus to see Frank standing in between the bunks, hands on hips. Looking for all the world like a mother. We swallowed. 

‘How long have we had this bus?’ Frank demanded. We’d been on tour – our first ever, real life tour – for only a week. We’d spent most of the first day marveling at the bus, the sofas, the bunks – everything. Then. . . it lost it’s magic. 

‘One week. Look at it!’ Frank whined. ‘It’s a complete tip. I can’t even get to my bunk for all the junk!’ he complained. Being shorter and nimbler, Frank had been allocated the very top bunk, above Mikey’s. Ray and Bob had claimed the two bottom bunks opposite each other; no-one contested them- both being very tall, lanky and generally too awkward to do much climbing. So, Mikey and I had the middle two; me above Bob and Mikey over Ray. 

This wouldn’t have been an issue – but for Frank. In order to get to his bunk, He had to use the edges of the other bunks to climb up – either using Ray and Mikey’s bunks like a ladder, or using both sides of the narrow hallway at the same time to climb up. 

‘No, seriously. I want to get to my bunk, how do I do it?’ Frank gestured. Even just looking, you could tell it was impossible. Duvets were hanging off of bunks – heck, Mikey’s’ duvet was half in my bunk from where he had thrown it at me earlier; so it now hung like a canopy. Mugs and cans perched on edges precariously, books, t-shirts. . . It was like an avalanche had struck. 

‘Sorry Frankie, we’ll tidy it up’ Ray swallowed. 

‘We will?’ Bob hissed. 

‘Thank you’ Frank glared. ‘Just, keep the edge clear so I don’t break my neck getting my phone’ he grumbled. We all lurched forwards to our respective bunks as Frank grabbed a bin and placed it in the middle. I stood on Bob’s bunk and chucked the duvet back at Mikey before pushing myself into my bunk. I was the only one who didn’t have to duck their head – I didn’t have another bunk, or ceiling, directly above my head so I had vertical space. 

‘Where’s the bin?’ Mikey called, chucking down a scrunched up tissue before he got a reply. 

‘Arrrrrgh Mikey! That landed on me’ I heard Bob growled before I saw the tissue come flying back up. Of course Mikey threw it straight back down, and within seconds everyone, even Frank, was chucking debris around. I landed a T-shirt perfectly over Ray’s head, and was in the middle of a celebratory punch-the air, when I heard Mikey curse in pain.

‘For God’s sake, what the hell was that?’ I looked across at him. 

‘You alright?’ Ray called up. I leant over the edge to see Bob and Ray looking up, waiting to see that Mikey was alright. 

‘Got me in the eye’ Mikey hissed, throwing the item that hit him down with much for force than was necessary. I watched him blink furiously, his eye watering quite badly. 

‘You alright? Ray repeated as he picked the offending magazine up from the floor. 

‘No I’m not frigging alright. That bloomin’ hurt! What the hell was it anyway?’ he called, leaning over, one hand over his injured eye. He was alright, I could tell. Frank looked over his bunk from above us.

‘Is that a playboy magazine?’ Frank said, squinting. I blushed red immediately – who the hell had a playboy magazine? 

‘Yeah? ‘ Ray said, handing it back to Bob, who took it with a confused look. 

‘How the hell did this get into my bunk? It’s not even mine’ He said, looking genuinely confused. 

‘Ha, of course it’s not yours’ Frank said with a lopsided grin.

‘No, seriously, it’s not mine’ Bob said with half a laugh. 

‘Well it’s not mine’ Ray said. 

‘And it’s not mine’ Frank laughed. I was aware my jaw was half open. It wasn’t mine but I didn’t think I could say that. I didn’t even have any-

‘Pass it here’ Mikey said, leaning over and taking it from Bob. There was a paused moment in which I watched my brother flick through the dirty magazine as casual as anything. 

‘Bob you mother-fucker, you injured me with my own magazine!’ he called, only slightly pink. They all laughed. As though this were normal, acceptable, as if-

Oh my god. My brother has a dirty magazine. My younger brother has a dirty magazine. I didn’t know whether to be shocked about that, or embarrassed because he had one and I didn’t, as though he had somehow got there before me. I felt cheated, almost. 

‘You alright Gee?’ Frank said. I looked up, cheeks still on fire, to see Frank looking down at me, hair around his face. 

‘No’ I said blankly, and I heard them all laugh around me. ‘That’s just. . . Mikey!’ I said accusingly. That only made them laugh harder. 

‘Oh come on Gee’ he threw the magazine at my head. I caught it before dropping it like it was on fire when I saw the scantily clad woman on the front. ‘It’s not like you haven’t got your own’ Mikey laughed as I threw the magazine back quickly. The laughter stalled for a minute, waiting for me to join in. But I couldn’t. Because I didn’t have my own. And me not saying anything – I might as well have said that I didn’t have any, as suddenly hey were all looking at me, eyes wide. 

‘You don’t have any!’ Frank stated, not quite a gasp. 

‘No! I-‘ I started. It’d admitted it, and now they were laughing again. 

‘Oh my god, what? None?’ Bob, so eager to see my face, he now clambered onto Ray’s bunk to stare. 

‘No! Guys, just, urgh, stop!’ I pleaded, covering my now extremely red face. 

‘Oh my god, Gee, you’re like, twenty two!’ Mikey laughed as I turned away, aflame. 

‘Come on guys’ Ray was my savior. ‘Leave him. Just because we’re all dirty old men’ he said, swatting at my brother lightly. ‘Besides, I wanna go play guitar hero’ he said. A statement like that wasn’t missed, and they all turned their attentions towards tidying and organizing a mini-tournament. I went back to tidying, hands shaking slightly as I listened to their banter. 

Did they all have magazines? Did they all- I didn’t even want to think the word inside my own head. I’d never. . . touched myself. Never, I just – No. I was cringing inside my own mind. It wasn’t like me and Mikey had been brought up to think it was wrong. Evidently, Mikey didn’t think it was wrong. Oh god, Mikey did it. Urgh. I just, no. The thought was so. . . . It seemed like such an awkward thing, a messy thing, in theory – and I guessed, I thought it was impractical – So I’d never. . . But all around me, they were. . . Oh god, urgh. 

‘You alright?’ Ray’s voice broke through my thoughts. I realized I’d been re-folding the same shirt over and over. I looked around, the guys were all gone, it was just us. I relaxed a bit.

‘Yeah, just Mikey doing that, it’s just. . .’ I trailed off miserably with a cringe. 

Ray laughed lightly. ‘He’s not the only guy who does it. It’s not abnormal or anything’ he laughed. 

‘Do you-‘ the words escaped before I realized that was something far too personal to ask. 

‘Well’ Ray said. He was actually going to answer that? ‘Well, yeah, I do. Like I said, most guys do it’ he said, not looking at me. 

‘Oh’ I said lamely. 

‘So, well, I guess you’ve never. . ?’ he said, so quietly I barely heard him. 

‘No’ I said, just as quietly. He didn’t say anything. Neither did I.

After that incident, no one mentioned it again. The bunks remained reasonably tidy – or tidy enough for Frank. But suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It got to the point where I couldn’t sleep because I was convinced that the heavy breathing I could hear was someone else. . . 

I started waking in the night, and in the morning, with my own problem. Each time, I did as I always did – multiplication tables in my head – until it went away. But each time, just for a second, I felt tempted to try. I didn’t though. Maybe I’d be really loud, and everyone would know, and tease me about it. 

We spent the days on the roads, and the nights at gigs. I couldn’t believe how much energy Frank had. Like a tiny tornado, he would whip around, one minute standing on Bob’s drum kit, the next, pressed so hard against my side to get at the same microphone that I was almost pushed away from it. It must have been my imagination, but every evening, the whole band was more uptight, and the feeling passed to the crowd, who spat it back at me as the front man. Each night, I stepped off stage, buzzing. I took a shower and went to bed, like everyone else, but then I couldn’t get the buzz to leave me alone. It wasn’t, I didn’t think, a sexual buzz, but it sure kept me awake. Then, inevitably, I would wake up, with another problem, and have to do more multiplication tables. At least my brain was being kept sharp. 

We had our first day off nearly a week after the incident, in Chicago. Bob left to see his family, and at about two in the afternoon, Frank and Mikey left to go shopping. So it was just me and Ray. Which was cool, for the most part. He was collapsed in his bunk, and I was. . .moping about. I eventually flicked the TV on and started playing guitar hero, quietly, incase Ray was asleep. 

He wasn’t, because after a while, he appeared and picked up the other guitar and we started playing against each other, in relative silence. I was concentrating (And still being beaten, badly), when Ray said ‘Have you ever kissed anyone?’

I of course, screwed up immediately, because I couldn’t’ deal with both things at the same time. Ray, on the other hand, seemed to find the colored buttons on the plastic guitar therapeutic, and his face was long gone into the screen. 

‘No’ I swallowed, too afraid to say any more, in case I started demanding personal information again. 

‘Are you, like, waiting until marriage, or something?’ he said, still fixed on the screen. I stabbed away at random colours as he scored 100%. 

‘No, I’ve just never had anyone to kiss. I wasn’t exactly popular in high school’ I ground through my teeth, mainly frustrated at the damn game declaring ‘You loose!’ over and over. 

‘Neither was I’ Ray said quietly. 

‘But you still kissed a girl’ I said, immediately thinking Katy Perry in my head, and hating myself for it. There was a pause, and I realized Ray hadn’t said anything. I stopped bothering looking at the screen and looked at him, adding ‘or. . . guy’ quietly, feeling like an Eejit, and wanting to slap myself. 

‘Yeah.’ He said. I couldn’t tell if he was answering yes to the ‘you kissed someone’ or ‘guy’ specifically. 

‘Who?’ I asked turning back to the screen. 

‘Frank’ he said, and I actually dropped the guitar. Onto the floor. Which broke Ray’s attention, and he looked at the guitar with a raised eyebrow. The screen went ‘You loose!’ again, and I picked the guitar up. 

‘Frank. Really?’ I said, voice far too high pitched and polite. 

‘Hmmm’ he said, turning back to the screen. 

‘What happened?’ I said, quickly flicking back through my memories for anything labeled ‘What the hell’ between Frank and Ray. Nothing. Nada. No entries. 

‘Didn’t work out’ he said. 

‘Oh’ I said, even though I’d figured that out. ‘How come?’

‘We were just experimenting. He decided he likes girls, and I decided I like guys’ Ray said, taking off the guitar and stretching as I was told ‘You loose’ again.

‘Hmm’ I said, and aware that I was having no real input into this conversation, added. ‘How did you tell you liked guys?’

‘Just did’ Ray said, taking his tall frame back to the bunk area, signaling the end of the conversation. 

Later that night, everyone was asleep. Including myself – I was fully aware of the fact I was dreaming. I could always tell dreams from real life, and the dreams were nearly always dull.

My dream self was lying on his bed, in much the same way that I probably was in the real world. Dream Gerard was alone though, and it was quiet – too quiet without the sound of the bus moving. Gerard rolled over, and that was when he heard it. 

The moaning. The groaning. The panting. Of course, real life Gerard would have blushed, covered his ears and hidden under his pillow – but dream Gerard was a little bolder. He rolled out of bed, padded across into the living room. The guys were sitting on the sofa. Dream Gerard joined them. Then he realized what they were looking at in silence. On the wall – where the TV would have been in the real world, was a giant magazine. With. . .Oh my god dream Gee was having a dirty dream. The giant magazine had a picture of a bed, with a set of entwining limbs on it, and a very, very naked male butt in the centre of two legs which were hooked around his waist. 

‘Guys, what the hell is-‘ Gee turned to look at his dream band mates, but suddenly they had moved, Ray and Frankie snuggling and Mikey sitting cross legged – all of them watching the image, which, Gee looked back, was now moving. 

That was were the noises were coming from. The moaning, groaning, panting sex noises. Even Dream Gee was bright red by now. 

‘Aw, you two look so cute together’ Mikey said, looking at Frank and Ray. Gee let his jaw drop, staring at the moving magazine picture. That male butt. . .those strong legs. The voices. Oh god – that was Frank and Ray. Together. Having sex. And Gee was watching. Oh GOD!

‘Gee!’ the hiss startled the real me awake. I shot upright. I was on the sofa, I jumped up like I’d been set on fire. 

‘It’s okay Gee,’ Frank’s voice. Real Frank. Not dream Frank. Not naked Frank. Good. Right. 

‘Aw, you look so cute’ Mikey laughed. He, Frank and Ray were standing around the sofa, where I had obviously fallen asleep. I cringed at the similarity of words to those in my dream. 

‘Nightmare?’ Ray said, raising an eyebrow. I ran a hand through my hair and nodded. 

‘Wanna talk about it’ Frank said. 

‘NO!’ I squirmed. They laughed and I joined in a little. ‘Just a silly nightmare. . .’

‘Well, I’m going to bed’ Mikey said, and to my horror, Frank nodded and vanished too, leaving me with Ray,and, I now realized, the need to do many multiplication tables. A painful amount. I glanced sideways at Ray as he sat on the sofa, flicking on the TV to a late-night station. I sat next to him, drawing my knees to my chin to try and hide my . . .problem. 

‘You were moaning, we thought we’d better wake you’ Ray smiled kindly. ‘That bad, huh?’

‘I was moaning?!’ I swallowed going red again. 

‘Yeah, almost like. . .Yeah’ Ray said. ‘Must have been a pretty sick dream’

‘Very sick’ I agreed quietly. That must have tipped Ray off, because he looked at me closely for almost a minute in which I turned more and more red. When I finally looked away, ashamed, he made a small ‘oh’ noise. I cringed again. 

‘I didn’t realize, do you wanna go and-‘Ray gestured vaguely to the bathroom. 

‘No!’ I hissed, incase Frank or Mikey heard. 

‘Oh, sorry, I forgot you didn’t. . . What do you do then, if you don’t. . .?’ Ray said, tilting his head to the side in such an adorably way. Wait, did I just think Ray was adorable? Tall, lanky, muscular, hard-ass Ray. Oh god, hard-ass was not the words to think. I think I was actually maroon at this point.

‘I try really hard to think about other stuff’ I ground out, staring at the TV screen, without seeing it. OTHER STUFF, Gee – think about other stuff! Not Ray’s butt. Not anyone’s butt. Especially not Ray’s butt. Stop saying Ray’s butt!

‘Gee. . .’ Ray’s hand brushed my arm so delicately I had to bite my lip. Do not think about it. ‘It’s not. . .I mean. If you need to, I’m not going to think any less of you if you go-‘

‘I don’t want to’ I exploded into speech. ‘I don’t even know how and I’d really rather just leave it’ I said at twice the normal speed.

‘You don’t know how?’ Ray chuckled, that deep, gravelly chuckle that sounded so. . . Oh my god. I was hard and all I could think about was Ray. Oh, my, god. . .

‘Well, I know how I just. . .’ I said pathetically, staring at my hands, which I was wringing. I stopped wringing them quickly. 

‘You want me to show you?’ Ray said in his low voice. My head snapped up. Was he serious? Oh my god, I think he was serious. 

‘Are you serious?’ I breathed. 

‘Yeah, dude, you look like you’re in pain.’ Ray laughed lightly, leaning towards me. I didn’t have space to lean backwards. I was in pain. It was killing me. Ray took my hand lightly. I let him. He shifted to face me slightly better. 
‘I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do, Gee. . . but this is something I think every guy should have done at least once’ Ray breathed, suddenly looking very humble. My chest expanded, my heart swollen. Why was Ray so nice – all the time?

‘I wanna try’ I mumbled, feeling like a two year old. Ray let go of my hand, and shifted- for a moment I thought he was going to leave, but he only turned so he was completely facing me. As Ray’s hand brushed up against mine, I suddenly felt so nervous. ‘Wait’ I panicked. 

‘It’s okay Gee, we don’t have to-‘ Ray was about to withdraw his hand when I grabbed it in my own sweaty one. I reached up behind me and eventually found the light switch – plunging us into darkness apart from the dim light of the TV. Better. I felt less exposed. 

‘Okay’ Ray said, and I could hear his smirk. ‘Jeans’ he said, his hand still on mine. He began moving his hand closer until he touched my leg, brushing down the inside seam by my knee. I swallowed a breath and heard his low chuckle again. His hand over mine steered my fingers like a puppet master and ghosted digits up the inside of my thigh. I let a small moan escape and slouched back. Then Ray’s fingers were squeezing mine gently, in a silent promise, as he brought my palm over my own bulge. I couldn’t breath, I was drawing in breath after breath and there wasn’t enough oxygen.

‘God Gee. . .’ Ray’s breath was by my ear, hot and wet; it didn’t help. I was going to split these jeans. I took my own incentive and unbuttoned them, the pressure was great enough that the zipper undid a little on its own. Ray let his hand rest at the top of my thigh, tapping and rubbing small patterns there. I lay back, and breathed. I needed more air or I would go insane. It felt so. . .

‘Jeans’ Ray said, and I felt the sofa dip and rise as he shifted. Then, his hands were at my waist, tugging the denim down, I lifted my hips, and soon the jeans were pulled down around my knees. Ray’s hand was working on my thigh again, but it wasn’t enough, something more should be happening – My brain said there should be more of this feeling. I grabbed his hand with my own and brought it back over the bulge in my boxers, his hand, large and slightly calloused felt so good. . . and it was moving – slowly rubbing up and down, created friction that made me whimper.

‘You see’ Ray breathed against my ear. ‘It feels so good’ I felt something hot and wet trace along my jaw – his tongue, I realized. I moaned again, feeling so helpless but so weightless as nerves all over my body sparked into life. I didn’t even realize what Ray was doing until he gripped my hand and slid it under my boxers with his own. He moved my fingers until my cock was wrapped in my hand, and his hand wrapped mine.

‘Oh god, Gee. . .’ Ray said, his hand leaving mine for a second to ghost my entire length. I moaned, and bucked my hips desperately. ‘You’re a big boy’ he said, which I knew was a compliment, but I couldn’t even register it at the time. He was moving my hand again, up and down, slowly, in agony. I swallowed, dragging in a large breath

‘Ray, I need more’ I begged. I heard him moan and his hand went a little slack. It was too much, I got a better grip and began speeding up, faster and with more power. It felt so. . . I couldn’t stop moaning now, the noise endless, but thankfully, pretty quiet. 

I felt Ray’s hand snake its way out of my boxers. I didn’t know what he was doing, I didn’t care – something inside me was happening, like an elastic band being pulled and pulled. I needed to keep going.
‘G-‘ I heard Ray, full out moaning by my side. I felt the sofa shift, but didn’t stop. I heard the sound of a zipper, and moving fabric – I still didn’t stop. The elastic band in me was stretching, I wanted to go further, to see what would happen if I broke it. 

Ray had his mouth on my neck, sucking, one hand grabbing at my side; his other hand, I knew, I just knew, was pumping his own erection. I let my head fall to one side, for Ray to bite and suck at the vein. I felt so close, that band had, it had to snap soon – then Ray stopped. I stopped pumping, shocked, when there was hot breath at my ear. 

‘Come for me’ the words dripped like hot honey into my head, and then straight down to my cock. The band snapped and I moaned loudly as my entire world turned white. I arced off the couch, like a rag doll, my head falling straight back. I heard Ray moaning too, beside me. 

Silence, filled only with hot breath. I felt Ray brush his hand against my arm. I pulled my hand out of my boxers, and wiped the hot fluid onto the outside of them. I laced my fingers in his and lay there, in the dark, and I came down from my first true high.


Mar. 22nd, 2011

No-one's home [Waycest, M]

( You are about to view content that may only be appropriate for adults. )

Mar. 12th, 2011

British Class System

Yesterday I, through a series of awkward conversations, found myself sitting next to my mother; watching TV. A programme came on. After the thirty minutes of watching, I found myself speechless.

I am working class. Most of my friends are middle-class. I have a few friends who are upper class.

Shocking, but true. Of course, none of my friends are crude enough to even comment on this, but this epiphany has made me pay more attention to their mannerisms. My upper class friend kept a hold of her hat in a very 'I'm at a windy polo match' way, hand a bit like a spider imitation on the top of her head. My other friends took their hats off and held them rather than try to keep them there; and I grabbed it either side of my head and pulled it viscously down.

Next time you go people-watching, see how they differ. Some will be as common as muck, like me (Joking, here) and others will be very. . . cultivated (Still joking) people.

Mar. 9th, 2011

Rydon Drabble - Stage This

Hey - this is chapter one (Of many? You decide) that I wrote while mainly asleep. Thought I would share. 

Chapter One – Stage This

Breathe. Deep, big, oxygen filled breaths. Ryan looks at himself in the mirror, plucking a Kleenex from a side table and dabbing at a tiny smudge on his makeup. No matter how many times they performed, no matter how much he loved to lose himself in that world, he always got nervous before hand. He checked the clock behind him in his dressing room. Thirty minutes. Go and check with the manager.

Brendon hummed, stretching a note higher every time. Nice and warmed up. He only had to put on his jacket and hat and he was ready. Just wait now. He’d better go and do the before performance checks. They couldn’t be done any earlier, and they had to be done. They made him nervous though – the assessment of the crowd.
He wove his way through the maze of the venue and eventually found them, Mrs Grey, Ryan, Spencer and Jon all sitting on a sofa that had far too much structure in its padding to be anything other than brand new. He perched on the edge, entirely uncomfortable with it.

‘So, the crowd is mainly girls, between the ages of about ten and twenty five. A few guys.’ Mrs Grey went straight to work. She was great, did her job very efficiently, but didn’t ever have much personality. ‘Now, I haven’t been out there myself, obviously, but we’ve seen some of the signs out there.’

This is what got Brendon the most- the signs they waved. Demanding attention and making him read them. Even if he didn’t want to. More often now they were signs promoting rumours that just were not true. Sure, he hadn’t helped them, but to be honest some of them were personal.

‘. . .and quite a few for “Ryden”, as fans are now calling it’ Mrs Grey said, shuffling her papers.

‘What?’ Brendon managed. ‘Ry-den?’

‘Yes, it’s what your fans have dubbed the supposed relationship between you and Ryan. It’s a supposedly cool combination of your first names. . . ‘

‘Oh’ Brendon managed. ‘Right’

‘Hmmmm. Anyway. Kate, the PR manager wanted me to chuck an idea out there – I know that you have both been playing a long to a certain extent, let me see, ah, here’ She pulled out a piece of paper and read off of it –

‘I love Ryan. . . . I’ve got the biggest clock in the band-‘

‘How’s that relevant?’ Ryan blurted. ‘I do’ he said. He recalled saying it an interview, and at the time it had made perfect sense.

‘Some of your fans consider it an innuendo’ Mrs Grey said pointedly. Ryan went pink immediately as Brendon blinked, blankly.

‘Anyway, in your little speech, after “a most romantic kiss”, Kate suggested you share a kiss’

‘On stage?’ Ryan asked after a loaded moment, at the same time as Brendon said ‘A kiss?’

‘On stage was the idea’ Mrs Grey said with a curt smile. Ryan went even pinker. ‘And it can be any sort of kiss you like’ she said. ‘But make up your mind if you’re going to do it before you start. No-one wants any surprises’ she said, standing and taking her papers with her.

Spencer and Jon sputtered into laughter, slapping Ryan and Brendon on the knee and back before leaving. A very awkward silence ensued.

‘Are you okay with it?’ Ryan asked after a moment.

‘Yeah. It’s fine. On the cheek, or. . . .’ Brendon said, staring fixedly at the floor.

‘Cool’ Ryan said quickly. There was another small pause before they both got up, mumbling about something they had to do, before leaving.

The show built up. And up. And up. Brendon was so pumped on adrenaline his hands were shaking – he had to keep moving, even though he was sweating and breathless. Jump, dance, sing – hear the crowd. Feel the crowd.

The moment worked its way so close so quickly. Brendon didn’t really realize until it was upon him that he was going to kiss Ryan. He, of course, would never mention this to anyone, ever – but his first kiss, would be with Ryan. And, it would be staged. That made Brendon falter for a moment. He caught himself though and belted out the words with more vigor.

Brendon faked his way through it all. He did love Ryan, his best friend. He knew that the fans implied that they had a proper relationship, like the ones shared between married people. He knew that when people were married they had sex – and yes, he knew how that worked, in a way – more of a cold, scientific theory. Then, that was pretty much it. Men had this, women had that, this goes there, and hey presto. Why was there such hype over him and Ryan anyway? Brendon knew that some guys were gay – even he knew that – but there wasn’t exactly anything they could do about it, was there? He meant, they couldn’t get married. This just couldn’t go there.

Brendon was slowly getting pinker on stage just thinking about all of that. He knew sometimes that jokes or words were said that he didn’t understand, or didn’t get, and he’d always been too embarrassed to ask. She said what, exactly? Go down on where? What did you do? It was stupid even inside his own head.

He knew he had been raised a little differently to the other band members. Their choice to follow music had been, at worst, doubted by their families – Brendon had been kicked out because of it. His parents had wanted him to go to university and then come home until he found a nice, polite wife and then he would propose on one knee and then Brendon’s dad said that the two of them would have a ‘talk’ before the wedding and then Brendon would live happily ever after, office worker, banker, secretary. . . Or whatever other mundane option his life handed him.

God, the time was here. Brendon didn’t even realize until the words left his lips ‘. . .A most romantic kiss’ he grinned at the end when the crowd soared, roaring in his ears as he walked forwards, strides that were far more confident than he felt. He let the microphone jostle in his hand, before restign lightly on Ryan’s shoulder, which was right there, and Brendon pressed his chapped lips to the slightly stubble.

The ocean of fans became a tsunami; a great screech of a wave building, but instead of surging forwards it seemed to expand like an explosion from Brendon’s lips as more and more girls realized what was

Then it was over. Brendon was hop footing it back, his voice low for the start of ‘Lying’. The show continued. Life continued. Brendon was still sweaty and pumped. But as the lights dimmed and they exited stage, Brendon felt a sickening feeling in his stomach. He was going to hell for that. . .

Disclaimer - I am not Brendon, or Ryan, or Spencer, or Jon. Any opinions /facts/knowledge of or about  the above people may be misleading or incorrect. 
Let me know if you like, hate, love, etc?

Mar. 6th, 2011

Hate for parents rants

She hated the woman, wanted to jump up and hit her. Slap her face as violently as she could manage. To knock her over and make her sprawl onto the floor, humiliated. Degraded. Blushed red and violently spitting, hissing like a hyena, knocked back by a lion. The hyena, screaming in protest at the beating she had - Screaching. Lies and words that sprawled fromher mouth as devious as the snake in the garden of Eden. she couldn’t wait to leave, to leave that thing behind for ever. To embarrass her. When she went to see people – they would have to be insane, for she had no real friends – they would ask, oh how are your children? Children? Dose she have any children? NO. They were  waiting, silent and sprung, for their birthday to arrive. Like a gunshot, it would make them sprint off into the distance. They would never look back. They had spent too long waiting for their chance, too long had been dedicated to the thoughts of freedom, of just not being there, that the moment they had their chance. They would be off. Never to be seen again by the evil hyena

Feb. 25th, 2011

Writer's Block: You're my best friend

If you could shrink any animal down to miniature size and carry it around in your pocket, which animal would you choose?

A wise person. Okay, not really what you were looking for, but I would! I thought lion cub, then puppy - but they would be suffocated if i tried to cuddle them. So, I want something useful. I want a wise person in my pocket! Just for those times when you have no idea what is going on, or what to do, you could just get them out and have some great advice!


Yeah. Hi!. . . . *awkward moment* Ahoi, is a pirate phrase, and just to be clear, I am not a pirate. I don't even like ferries. I get sea-sick. 

So. I am getting to grips with this thing. It's harder than it looks! You'll probably see me poking my head around, just looking about. Annoying people (Unintentionally, of course) and all that. More entries to follow, I think, I know hehehehe. 

Bye for now.