FicWad

Gerard Way was hunched over a scratched and beaten writing desk. His lone candle, the only one he could afford to risk burning as he was running low, flicking and casting nasty, ominous shadows on the wall. Far nastier than anything Gerard's artist mind could conjure. His mind instantly and constantly connecting the dots, making out haunting images he could only hope were a figment of his imagination. He always had that tingle, that prickle down the neck, that watched feeling. It was hard not to continually turn and look over his shoulder. That feeling that alerted you to the offness. Gerard Way was lost, stuck on his words, as he so often found himself these days. Even when he had something to say, he had nothing to say.
Things had long since blown up in his face. In ways he could have never ever suspected. Never imagined in his wildest dreams, worst of nightmares that things could end up so infinitely bad. Things had started out as simply as wanting to put everyone who had never put him into their place. He supposed that you could go all the way back to the beginning. The beginning of My Chemical Romance. But that was old news he had told time and time again to generation after generation. True that it was lost by now, but he no longer had the heart to tell it.
For every filled page he added to the stack, he had yet another blank to page to stare at equally as blankly.
So he would start with the beginning of his true happiness. So happy that he wanted to share his happiness, and spread it, make everyone else as contagiously happy as he. And but of course, take everyone who had ever had their doubts, down with him. The fans had molded along, excepting his radical concepts, with open arms. They were, mostly exuberant for Gerard, and soon they became, the Killjoys.
It had been great at first. Amazing. Fantastic. All the best of words in the world. To feel as though you had done something. You were doing something that no one else in the world could do. Even if it had been of the tip of their tongues.
He understood the want, the need some of them had to be Killjoys. To belong to a tight-knit group of people who cared. Where they would be excepted by at least someone. It was nice to know that he was one of the curators of that. He encouraged it. Gerard had never been able to fathom that one of them, or any, could be so insane, or corrupt.
Everything had had patched together had begun to fall apart at the roughly stitched seams.
He would even go so far as to say he loved them, his Killjoys, his MCRmy.





So. Yep. New Story.
I know this was short but it's just the begining, it'll get longer as it progresses. So far it will contain: Violence, (loads of)flashbacks, cursing, and death.
I really do hope you like it. It's a bit out of my norm.
Oh, and if you're reading Get Me Outta My Head, I haven't given up, I'm just hitting a break while I go hunt down some inspiration.
Okie dokie. I would love it ever so much if you went forth and raped the review button. Isn't just too sexy to resist?
XO,
Becca