FicWad

Literally just had this conversation.

Stepmother(hereafter known as Mary):When are you getting married?

Lorna:Excuse me?

Mary:When will you find a nice boy and settle down?I'm sick of telling people you're still on the shelf.

Lorna:I'm eighteen.That's barely legal.

Mary:Don't be ridiculous,my mother got married when she was sixteen.

Lorna:Yeah,like,three hundred years ago.

Mary:Do not take that tone with me,young lady,you need a strongman to support you.

Lorna:I can get on perfectly fine on my own,thank you.Men are retarded.

Mary:Shut up,you little slut,and get out of my house.

Lorna:We're on the phone.

Mary:Whore.

Then she hung up.

I mean,what the flying fuck does my father even see in her.They're getting married soon.They're thinking about moving back to Belfast.

I don't think Jane knows about that but fuck it,I certainly ain't moving back to that shit hole.There's a reason I don't go there.

I hate step families.I hate my new fucking step sisters.They wear fake tan and one of them is twelve and has already made out with a guy.

I didn't do that till I was sixteen.Even then I was a bit like,"ew,no,get the fuck away from me."

Yeah.And one of them thinks Gerard Way is ugly and I'm just like,you obviously have some horrible mind-numbing mental disorder,because that shit just ain't normal.

Times like this I wish my mom hadn't died.She was a bitch,but a fucking saint compared to this cunt.

Anyway,sorry about the whinging.It is currently like three a.m.,I'm sitting on my couch with my cat in my lap and I'm watching a thing about gangland crime in Ireland.Very appropriate,really.

That's actually how I write most of my stuff,in pajamas and eating Doritos and listening to this drunk guy outside my window warble out Show Me the Way to Go Home.

I'm such a bohemian artist,me and my brickland loft and my stylish poverty.I should take up smoking pot and just going,"y'know what,man,you don't get me,no one in this world gets me."

Title is from Florence + the Machine.Good song,good singer,whatever.The title actually is quite fitting to the entire story really,because of criminality and shiz.

This is some fluff here,fyi,and some weird stuff that I can't really describe.We'll see what the shit comes out.Oh yes and Frank is from LA inmy story,I know,yes,in real life,he is from Jersey,but here I'm making him from California.

I had a little drink about an hour ago and its gone straight to my head,

xo lorna

btw,I know France is also a bad choice considering the WWII thang,but just roll with me,its part of the plot

First of the Gang to Die
Diciassette
My Boy Builds Coffins



"...it is believed that Way,now twenty-eight,has killed well over three hundred individuals since his induction to gangland criminality twelve years ago,by his father,Donald Way.Way senior served a life sentence for his involvement in the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre of nineteen twenty-nine.Deemed too dangerous for Rikers Island Prison,and so was imprisoned at the newly renovated Alcatraz Island.He escaped from there two years ago,and his whereabouts are currently unknown.

However deadly the older Way may have been,there is no doubt that this younger man is ten times more formidable.He is ruthless and malevolent-he does not care whom he takes life from,or what it takes.As opposed to the majority of gangsters in the current Italian-American circle,Way takes his time when killing and torturing his victims,using techniques carried out within informers of the Irish Republican Army during the Irish civil war and following years.Last week the body of his younger brother,Michael James Way,was found on the banks of Bell Creek.After being tortured,his body had been dragged to the site and burned.

The estimated sentence for Way if he were ever to be apprehended would be a total of two thousand,four hundred,and sixty-four years-however,main directors of the Los Angeles Police Department have issued a statement yesterday saying that the hangman's noose would be offered to the gang leader.

"It is without a doubt that this bloodthirsty gangster needs to be done away with,"Commander William Perry said at the press conference yesterday,flanked by several members of the United State military,"and so that is why,when incarcerated,Way will be hung by the neck until dead."

The Way family,who have been half of the feud that has now become known as the Way-Romano discord,are the dominating class,ever since the death of James Romano,leader of the latter gang.Several fatal altercations,including the ambush at the Romano family funeral in early November,have been lead by Way.

It is of this writer's opinion that this horrific demon be wiped off the face of the earth,thus cleaning the streets of Downtown Los Angeles.The citizens of LA are no longer safe thanks to the macabre villain that is Gerard Way."


He had promised himself that he wouldn't read newspaper articles.They worried him,made his eyes swim with tears,his lip bleed from biting.Every time someone would make a cadaverous sneer towards Gerard Frank would whimper and wince,scorching drops falling onto the article.His hands had even began to shake.

Before he even knew it,sobs were erupting from his chest,tearing through his throat and blistering the back of his mouth.Tears were streaming down his cheeks at a rapid pace and splashing onto the wooden table below him.

It was eleven at night;he was sitting at the kitchen tale,where he had,up until then,been watching a baseball game.Gerard was in his study,doing things Frank neither knew nor wanted to know about.He had been told by the guard outside the door Gerard 'certainly did not want to be disturbed';and had looked very ominous while doing so.

But now Frank was getting scared.The article,the dark shadows dancing on the walls,the fact that he had not talked to Gerard in over five hours.He had had a good day with Bob and Ray throughout the afternoon,shopping for waistcoats-they eventually settled for "smudged coal",a deep ebony all three had been satisfied with-and he was happy that he had friends,even if those friends were murderous Mafioso's.But he still craved being with Gerard,longed to be near him.If not in a sexual way then just talking to him could make Frank beam.

He was preparing himself to rise from the table when the armed guard entered the room.He was big,and terrifying,with a huge scar across his left eye.

"He has been asking for you.Come with me."

Frank accompanied the defender nervously through the hallways,following the vast suited back of his,finally stopping when the guard halted outside the door,a palm of command held in front of Frank's face.

"Wait,"he ordered bluntly,tapping on the door with a strained knuckle."Il mio Coro?Ce l'ho."

This meant gobshit to Frank,but the door was opened a fraction by the guard,an invite into the library.He stepped into it gratefully,inhaling the musky smell of leather that comes with all old bibliothecae.

Gerard was standing,back to Frank,at his desk,jacket off,shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows,holding the telephone to his ear in one hand and a shortening cigarette in the other.He turned around when the door slammed loudly.He didn't say anything,but beckoned to Frank with one finger,leaning against the desk.

Frank stumbled over to him,his decorum failing him.

Dammit dignity,where are you when I need you?

Gerard smiled hazily,barely stretching his mouth around his muscles,sucking on the cancer stick.He breathed in deeply,listening to someone chatter frantically on the other side of the line.He placed one of his hands into the warm of Frank's hip,allowing the boy to lean into him.

"Si.Si.Va bene.Ora devo andare.Buonanotte."

He threw the phone back into it's receiver again,now linking both of his arms around Iero's tiny waist,careful not to burn him with the fag.

Did that come out wrong?

"Hello, Frank."

The aforementioned could never understand how he could do that-make his legs buckle and his throat close by simply greeting him.

"H-hey,Gerard."

Shit.He'd forgotten about the crying thing,as well as his general awkwardness.

Gerard raised a shaped eyebrow,his smile disappearing as quickly as it had come.He put a little more pressure into where he was pressing with his right hand,making Frank let out a shaky "ohhh."

"Sugar,why were you crying?"He barely whispered,wiping away the tear tracts with his thumb,boaring into Frank' eyes,who couldn't help but fell a little scared at the red haze in one of the jade orbs.

"I wasn't...I just...uh..."the intensity seemed to overpower Frank's weak lying skills,and his cognita failed him.He ducked his head as his eyes filled again and he sucked on his bottom lip."I read a newspaper article."

"Have they increased in terrifying material?"

"Er-"damn you and your good vocabulary-"it was about you and...the police."

Gerard cleared his throat."And they talked about my proposed execution?"

Frank held in his tears until he threw his arms around Gerard's neck,sobbing into his shoulder.

"I don't want you to die!You don't deserve it!I need you!"

Gerard cradled the sobbing boy in his arms,cooing into his ear.He kissed his ruffled chocolate hair,murmuring words of comfort and consolation while Frank howled into his chest.He felt unbelievably guilty for making the poor thing cry,crying horrible,empty gasps.

"Sugar,"he whispered softly,turning around and pushing the boy up on the desk,feet inches above the ground,"I need you to listen to me."

Frank was still crying,hiccuping gulps of air,clinging to Gerard's neck.He felt himself shuddering and heaving against the older man,feeling pathetic and needy,but unable to stop his actions.Gerard leant his forehead against Frank's,tracing a line down his jaw.

"I am going to talk about something with you now,"he muttered in that deadly whisper,"and I will not repeat myself after this."He placed a finger over Frank's trembling lips."So you must promise me that you will listen and co-operate."The pause."Do you promise?"

"Y-yes,"he whimpered.

"Good.Now,"he said,addressing himself to his full height,and opening a drawer wide from his stance,"reach into that drawer."

"Wuh-why?"

"You promised."

Frank moved his shaking hand and felt into the drawer,feeling a lumpy pile of cold steel hit his skin.He knew what it was immediately,and his nerves quivered.He was still snuffling softly after the crying,blinking through dewy ashes.

He drew out the object with much submissive reluctance;and thus the gun was revealed.It had bone mantles,with that familiar etch in the barrels,which were intricately designed with swirls and loops,and the Way family crest gleamed in the chandelier's light above him.A collector or ammunition expert might have called it beautiful;but some people find it very difficult to see the apparent beauty in guns.

He held it in front of Gerard,handling it awkwardly,the weapon nearly falling from his wrist.It was extremely heavy.

"Know what that is?"

Gerard's voice was velvety;barely there;it floated into his ear as hot breath.

"A guh-gun."

"Not just any old gun."He took the piece from him easily,pulling a number of silver bullets from his pocket and loading the magazine,the hammer cocking with a satisfying,slow click."This is a Colt Single Action Army."He pulled back the receiver and the sound whirred."Or a Colt .45."He pressed it with slight pressure to Frank's chest,who whimpered and looked up at his lover with docile,chocolate eyes.The hollow hole encircling his heart felt cold and horrific."Most powerful gun in the world.Six shot cylinder,single action,the works."

the most powerful gun in the world thing was true at the time

"You feel that,baby?"He whispered in his ear,tickling his neck."You feel your heart beating against it?"

It was more hammering,but moving on.

"Yes,"Frank squeaked,"puh-please don't hurt me."

"Sugar,"he purred,"you underestimate my adoration for you."Frank felt with relief the gun moving away from his chest and instead nestled in the side of his jaw,digging into his mandible.

"What about that,Frankie?Feel the metal in your cheek?This could blow your head right off,sugar."He slowly slipped the metal barrel into Frank's soft pout,the latter giving out a small cry when the weapon entered his mouth,more tears leaking down his cheeks.

"Or that?"Gerard breathed."Open your mouth wider,baby,suck the whole barrel.That's it."

Frank was shaking everywhere now,his teeth chattering against the metal,liquid brimming over and making his vision blurry.His eyes were pleading with the lighter pair,but to no avail.

Frank's stomach lurched as the gun fell from his lips,quivering and gulping and tearing up,his slight body rocking.

Gerard placed the gun on the table,slide side up.

"Wuh-why did you duh-do that?"His chest was heaving with sobs."I thought I wuh-was going to duh-die!"

Gerard pushed a chestnut lock that had escaped back behind Frank's ear,propping a hand behind his knee,stroking the soft skin through the fabric,treasuring the tender cries and bleats coming from his pet.

"I hope that showed you,"he uttered softly,rubbing the particular spot,making the boy stir and gasp in between pants,"who you are marrying.Who you are in love with.Who sleeps next to you at night.And that those fucks will never,and I mean never kill me.I am fucking indestructible."

Frank let out a small mewl of submissive affirmation.

"But they're gonna find us eventually,there's already pictures in the paper-"

"But we're moving.We're gonna move away to France and it's gonna be fine.And baby,you gotta remember;people are afraid a me."He moved his lips to match the other convulsing pair."I got people all over this damn city."

"All ov-er?"Frank whimpered."Everywhere?"

"Everywhere,"Gerard growled,tugging on Frank's lip,"so you need not fear."

"And I hope you know by now that the day I hurt you is the day I stop breathing."Then he chuckled."You know the safety was on,right?"

"The...safety?"

"Yes."He traced the panda circles under Frank's eyes."Now go to bed.Before I lose control and take you right here."

Frank scuttled out of the office quickly.


Next chapter:WEDDIIIIIIIIIING YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! ah I'm sucha girl