Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Karma Police
Sounds weird and all, but I'm actually really getting into this story. Digging it quite a lot, lads. I'm quite proud of coming up with such a freaking weird plot line. Kinda strange, since I am quite the mafia-ophile...
Ah well, enjoy anyway. Cookies and weird ass-karma stories to ye all,
xo lorna
Cake
"What the fucking fuck," Bert McCracken petitioned once he saw his boyfriend on the floor of his kitchen, arms clutching the slender hips of another boy.
Frank froze. His entire body simply solidified in Gerard's arms. The human who had just barged into must be the infamous lover. What the fuck is he doing here flickered through the bully's, and thus Frank's mind. It paralyzed him with fear, with anxiety. A Molotov cocktail of uneasy emotions leaked in his stomach. The karma police officer suddenly felt a strong surge of anger, of unjustified rage. It was wrong, so very wrong of him, to feel anything but easy neutrality towards all huma beings, but he couldn't help it. He continued to sit on the kitchen floor, hips swathed in the eighteen year old's arms. He regarded this human-Albert Simon McCracken, seventeen years old. Frank knew everything about him there was to know about his client's boyfriend. And, though he'd never breathe a word to anyone, (Jonathan, Gerard, anyone remotely in correlation to the case) he didn't like him. Not one little bit. Bert was what a KPO might call one of the many "CATS"-Cannot Achieve Target Status-they were a select group of people who would never in their lives have a grasp at perfection.
"The fuck is this, Gerard?" He grunted, crossing his arms defensively. "Came in here to apologize, yanno, to say sorry for fucking around last night-but it looks like someone else beat me to it, huh?" His fists, Frank noticed, were clenched and very much ready to make contact with someone's face. "Wanna tell me what you gotta twelve year old on the floor for?"
"Fuck off," Gerard spat, venom in his tone. Frank flinched at the swear word and mentally begged the older boy to be kinder, gentler to Bert, no matter how much the dead boy got a bad vibe off McCracken. Way paid no heed to his protector's well wishes. Well; the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. "Get the fuck outta my goddamn house, asshole. This is private fucking property, you cunt-"
This is what you get when you mess with us...
Gerard caught himself quickly when the TV switched on and and that oh-so-familar indie tune began to hum tunelessly. He immediately regretted his actions; twenty four hours may not be that much of a practice period, but the irritation of that goddamn song helped, Way supposed. Karma Police filled the room with the three teenage boys inside, but only one of them twitched at the noise. Gerard was on his feet, heaving with indignant rage. Frank remained on the floor, shocked into stillness. His eyes glittered bright red, sparkling like two sparkling apples on a deserving teacher's desk.
"Don't call him that," he started, shaking with anger. "Don't you dare insult him, when you're the biggest man-whore on this face of the fucking planet. You cheated on me last night," Way said, voice wavering just a little. He balled his hands into fists until the song once again over in his mind. He calmed himself down, gazing down at the beautifulpolice officer below him. Frank sucked his lip and said nothing. "You...you...you got with someone last night. That shi-that stuff isn't...isn't good enough, Bert." Gerard heard the song fade into the bleakness of his mind as he remained mature and sensible during his rat out to Bert. As it did, a timid voice said well done, Gerard. Keep going. You're doing so well now. Just keep calm and carry on.
"And I didn't like that. I still don't." His tone was firmer, more determined, more even. Out of the corner of jade eyes, the bully saw Frank nod at him in an encouraging, affable. "'Cause we're meant to be...meant to be dating. Like...exclusive shit. Not...not fucking with everyone you meet at a par-"
"You fucking kidding me? Yo kettle, it's pot. You're black." Bert scoffed, spitting on the floor. His anger was building inside him like a Tetris block. It would only be a matter of time before it blew over the limit. "What the fucking fuck is going on, Gerard? Who the fuck is this fucking toddler in your fucking house-"
"STOP INSULTING HIM!" Way screeched suddenly, so brazen and harsh both others in the room flinched. The karma police officer clasped his hands, feeling oddly pleased. "He's my friend, okay? I'm not allowed to have friends over now? Jesus." Calm down a little, please. You're doing amazingly right now, Gerard, please don't ruin it. "I...I..Frankie just came over last night. No shit involved. I didn't get no action whatsoever."
Action? Frank questioned innocently. His mental ask made the bully’s heart melt. You mean like movies?
Bert narrowed his eyes and glared at both boys. Gerard bent down and pulled the dead creature into his arms lovingly, inhaling Iero’s wondrous scent. He was soft and light to the touch; like a silky feather to the human touch. Gerard felt raw silk brush against his own epidermis.
“And I get the shit dealt to me about fucking behind your back?” He wondered incredulously, mouth agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Gerard remained, cradling the other one, pouting. Frank was frightened majorly, shrinking in upon himself. “Shit, this kid can’t be more than twelve fucking years old. Scrawny little shit too.” He pulled Frank toward him by the wrist. The small one let out a shrill squeal. “Break his box yet, Gerard?”
Gerard heard an internal scream from somewhere; inside his head. As weird as that sounded, the shrill yell reverberated around his skull and installed what felt like the world’s worst hangover into his mind. He flicked open his pupils suddenly and Frank was glaring intently at Gerard’s ex-boyfriend, almost glaring in his trance-like state.
“Leave,” the boy said, eyes burning black. His order was blank and sharp; disobey and suffer the consequences. The voice was a dark growl that did not suit the karma police officer. “Leave and don’t you ever think about disturbing Gerard’s life ever again. Swear all you like; he’s moved on now and you have to accept that. You’re not wanted anymore.” Way actually heard Frankie sneer. Imagine that, the little kid sneering like a true snot-nosed little punk. Those dark eyes swivelled over to Bert, several inches taller than Frank, but who flinched all the same. “This is your official warning. Don’t make me come back here, McCracken.”
Bert and Gerard remained rooted to the spot, staring at Frank, little chest heaving as he concentrated on verbally braising the other boy. Eventually the black haired one stepped forward and curled his arm around Frank’s slender waist. To his surprise (and glee) he was not pushed away.
“You heard him, fuck face,” he spat, lips curling. “Get the fuck on out, ya little cunt.” The song. The song was starting to play again, like a broken record player skipping in his brain. He groaned silently and reminded himself of his situation; being reformed by this dead boy sent out by the Karma Police Constabulary. A gorgeous, perfect, indecently attractive boy at that. “I mean…yeah, Bert. I’m…I’m sorry. It’s not working for me and not for you either, man. It’s just…ugh.”
Frank gave him a tiny approving nod, resting his head inside the crook of Gerard’s arm. This gave the bad boy some sweet sort of dependence as Iero leant against him, black irises disappearing quickly as he let his eyelids slide shut. He pushed out his bottom lip and tugged Gerard’s neck further to him, cuddling him from an angle. The bully thought he looked the textbook definition of angelic.
“Well, fuck you guys anyway,” McCracken said bitterly, shrugging. He turned on his scuffed Converse and turned for the door, but not before raising a one finger salute to Way and the new boy. “Yanno what, I found this great guy last night anyway. Bout a hundred inches bigger than you, Gerard.” He slammed the door. “HAVE A GOOD ONE, LOSERS! HOPE YA FUCK HIS BRAINS OUT, GERARD!”
Gerard regarded the scene before him. He was standing in his kitchen, cradling a dead boy to his chest, stroking his hair in an absent mind. Frank smelled so damn good, from his neck to his hair to whole stretch of skin in general. His eyes were a glittering bright jade, and the dead thing was excited and trembling, quivering with the way things had just played out with Gerard's former partner. Way was still in daze.
"Well," Frank said, eyes still huge. "That was...interesting."
"No offence Frankie," Gerard told him, shrugging, "but you creep me the fuck out. Seriously. The screaming inside my head, and the fucking mind-reader shit and the general fucking karma police officer shit." He stared the other boy down, softening considerably when Frank was gazing at him with those big old eyes. They were mezmerizing; big as dinner plates. Frank leant against the kitchen counter, breathing heavily stil. Open sacks of leaking flour and dough wwas flung around the kitchen, soaking in the scene from when Frank had freaked out a little. Gerard pursed his lips and placed his hands on his waist. "I wanna know shit, Frankie. This making-me-a-pefect-dude and all that can only work if me and you got trust, yanno?" He stood his ground firmly. "I wanna know."
Frank paused for a moment and then blinked. He met the other's gaze.
"What do you wish to know?"
"The eyes." They had been on Gerard's mind since day one; those creepy orbs would flicker into a different colour every so often, from beautiful deep honey to startling, disturbing crimson. The bully needed to know the meaning behind the abnommal occurance. "I wanna know why your eyes freak out sometimes, go a different colour and stuff. It's creepy as shit. Like that kid from The Omen or something."
Not to be annoying, but sweet Jesus that movie scares the living shit out of me. It is so fucking creepy, and that kid is just ugh ._.
"Yes, my eyes," Frank said with a soft, adorable smile. "That's something I get asked about often."
Gerard waited patiently, watching that tiny grin. The other one's lips looked so soft and plush, so kissable...
"Gerard. Stop that." The karma police officer said sternly, smile vanishing. "You're not allowed think dirty thoughts about me."
"That wasn't even dirty!" Gerard protested, incredulous. Christ, this kid was so fucking abstinent. "I just thought about kissing you, Jesus. I could think a lot worst, believe you me. I'd be pretty fucking flattered if I were you, I don't kiss every guy that I meet-"
"The problem is that you do, Gerard," Iero said in a dull monotone. Was that a hint of....jealousy in his voice? "Don't be ridiculous, of course I'm not jealous. It's against the rules. The reason I'm here is because you do kiss every guy you meet." A little ding! came from the oven nearby. Frank grinned and clapped his hands. "Yay! My cookies are done!"
"Frankie." Gerard was trying not to smile at how cute the other one was. "I wana hear about those eyes, man."
"Just a minute, just a minute," Frank said, flustered, pulling on a pink frilly apron and pulling a tray from the bottom shelf of the oven. "Your mother has the best baking utencils, Gerard, she even has the new Heston Blumenthal book that I've seen recently. These are Moroccan mago and chocolate cookies I've been working on recently, I hope they turned out well-"
"Lemme guess," Way said, upstarting now. "Th goddamn cookies symbolize how I dunno, I start off as a bunch of shit and then you morph me into a good person by baking me or something, and then I eat the cookies and there's like fucking truth-telling potion in the cookies and they're not Moroccan cookies they're like cake parl moi cookies or some shit like that." He finished, chest heaving. He was sure any minute now he'd hear that stupid song, but, to his surprise, Frank looked innocent, amused even.
"No no," he shrugged. "I just like baking."
"Oh." Frank handed him one of the biscuits and Way popped it in his mouth; damn, it was good. It sunk into your mouth slowly and teased your tastebuds. "Yeah, they're...they're pretty good."
"Thank you." Frank perched on the counter, smiling sweetly. He squeezed his eyes shut and suddenly the kitchen was spotless, gleaming. The previous mess that had littered the floor was gone; sweeped up by an unseen force. That did actually unnerve Gerard a little; he was still getting used to the super powers. "Now...do you want me to tell you about my eyes?"
"And everything else." Gerard peered at him carefully. "I wanna know everything about being a karma police officer. Everyfreakingthing."
Frank nodded and sat down at the table with Gerard. Then, he told everything about being a karma police officer.
Yeah I know this chapter sucked and was quite short but I had shit to do this week, I'm so sorry >-< hope you like anyway-next chapter will be what Frankie tells Gerard.
Ah well, enjoy anyway. Cookies and weird ass-karma stories to ye all,
xo lorna
Cake
"What the fucking fuck," Bert McCracken petitioned once he saw his boyfriend on the floor of his kitchen, arms clutching the slender hips of another boy.
Frank froze. His entire body simply solidified in Gerard's arms. The human who had just barged into must be the infamous lover. What the fuck is he doing here flickered through the bully's, and thus Frank's mind. It paralyzed him with fear, with anxiety. A Molotov cocktail of uneasy emotions leaked in his stomach. The karma police officer suddenly felt a strong surge of anger, of unjustified rage. It was wrong, so very wrong of him, to feel anything but easy neutrality towards all huma beings, but he couldn't help it. He continued to sit on the kitchen floor, hips swathed in the eighteen year old's arms. He regarded this human-Albert Simon McCracken, seventeen years old. Frank knew everything about him there was to know about his client's boyfriend. And, though he'd never breathe a word to anyone, (Jonathan, Gerard, anyone remotely in correlation to the case) he didn't like him. Not one little bit. Bert was what a KPO might call one of the many "CATS"-Cannot Achieve Target Status-they were a select group of people who would never in their lives have a grasp at perfection.
"The fuck is this, Gerard?" He grunted, crossing his arms defensively. "Came in here to apologize, yanno, to say sorry for fucking around last night-but it looks like someone else beat me to it, huh?" His fists, Frank noticed, were clenched and very much ready to make contact with someone's face. "Wanna tell me what you gotta twelve year old on the floor for?"
"Fuck off," Gerard spat, venom in his tone. Frank flinched at the swear word and mentally begged the older boy to be kinder, gentler to Bert, no matter how much the dead boy got a bad vibe off McCracken. Way paid no heed to his protector's well wishes. Well; the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. "Get the fuck outta my goddamn house, asshole. This is private fucking property, you cunt-"
This is what you get when you mess with us...
Gerard caught himself quickly when the TV switched on and and that oh-so-familar indie tune began to hum tunelessly. He immediately regretted his actions; twenty four hours may not be that much of a practice period, but the irritation of that goddamn song helped, Way supposed. Karma Police filled the room with the three teenage boys inside, but only one of them twitched at the noise. Gerard was on his feet, heaving with indignant rage. Frank remained on the floor, shocked into stillness. His eyes glittered bright red, sparkling like two sparkling apples on a deserving teacher's desk.
"Don't call him that," he started, shaking with anger. "Don't you dare insult him, when you're the biggest man-whore on this face of the fucking planet. You cheated on me last night," Way said, voice wavering just a little. He balled his hands into fists until the song once again over in his mind. He calmed himself down, gazing down at the beautifulpolice officer below him. Frank sucked his lip and said nothing. "You...you...you got with someone last night. That shi-that stuff isn't...isn't good enough, Bert." Gerard heard the song fade into the bleakness of his mind as he remained mature and sensible during his rat out to Bert. As it did, a timid voice said well done, Gerard. Keep going. You're doing so well now. Just keep calm and carry on.
"And I didn't like that. I still don't." His tone was firmer, more determined, more even. Out of the corner of jade eyes, the bully saw Frank nod at him in an encouraging, affable. "'Cause we're meant to be...meant to be dating. Like...exclusive shit. Not...not fucking with everyone you meet at a par-"
"You fucking kidding me? Yo kettle, it's pot. You're black." Bert scoffed, spitting on the floor. His anger was building inside him like a Tetris block. It would only be a matter of time before it blew over the limit. "What the fucking fuck is going on, Gerard? Who the fuck is this fucking toddler in your fucking house-"
"STOP INSULTING HIM!" Way screeched suddenly, so brazen and harsh both others in the room flinched. The karma police officer clasped his hands, feeling oddly pleased. "He's my friend, okay? I'm not allowed to have friends over now? Jesus." Calm down a little, please. You're doing amazingly right now, Gerard, please don't ruin it. "I...I..Frankie just came over last night. No shit involved. I didn't get no action whatsoever."
Action? Frank questioned innocently. His mental ask made the bully’s heart melt. You mean like movies?
Bert narrowed his eyes and glared at both boys. Gerard bent down and pulled the dead creature into his arms lovingly, inhaling Iero’s wondrous scent. He was soft and light to the touch; like a silky feather to the human touch. Gerard felt raw silk brush against his own epidermis.
“And I get the shit dealt to me about fucking behind your back?” He wondered incredulously, mouth agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Gerard remained, cradling the other one, pouting. Frank was frightened majorly, shrinking in upon himself. “Shit, this kid can’t be more than twelve fucking years old. Scrawny little shit too.” He pulled Frank toward him by the wrist. The small one let out a shrill squeal. “Break his box yet, Gerard?”
Gerard heard an internal scream from somewhere; inside his head. As weird as that sounded, the shrill yell reverberated around his skull and installed what felt like the world’s worst hangover into his mind. He flicked open his pupils suddenly and Frank was glaring intently at Gerard’s ex-boyfriend, almost glaring in his trance-like state.
“Leave,” the boy said, eyes burning black. His order was blank and sharp; disobey and suffer the consequences. The voice was a dark growl that did not suit the karma police officer. “Leave and don’t you ever think about disturbing Gerard’s life ever again. Swear all you like; he’s moved on now and you have to accept that. You’re not wanted anymore.” Way actually heard Frankie sneer. Imagine that, the little kid sneering like a true snot-nosed little punk. Those dark eyes swivelled over to Bert, several inches taller than Frank, but who flinched all the same. “This is your official warning. Don’t make me come back here, McCracken.”
Bert and Gerard remained rooted to the spot, staring at Frank, little chest heaving as he concentrated on verbally braising the other boy. Eventually the black haired one stepped forward and curled his arm around Frank’s slender waist. To his surprise (and glee) he was not pushed away.
“You heard him, fuck face,” he spat, lips curling. “Get the fuck on out, ya little cunt.” The song. The song was starting to play again, like a broken record player skipping in his brain. He groaned silently and reminded himself of his situation; being reformed by this dead boy sent out by the Karma Police Constabulary. A gorgeous, perfect, indecently attractive boy at that. “I mean…yeah, Bert. I’m…I’m sorry. It’s not working for me and not for you either, man. It’s just…ugh.”
Frank gave him a tiny approving nod, resting his head inside the crook of Gerard’s arm. This gave the bad boy some sweet sort of dependence as Iero leant against him, black irises disappearing quickly as he let his eyelids slide shut. He pushed out his bottom lip and tugged Gerard’s neck further to him, cuddling him from an angle. The bully thought he looked the textbook definition of angelic.
“Well, fuck you guys anyway,” McCracken said bitterly, shrugging. He turned on his scuffed Converse and turned for the door, but not before raising a one finger salute to Way and the new boy. “Yanno what, I found this great guy last night anyway. Bout a hundred inches bigger than you, Gerard.” He slammed the door. “HAVE A GOOD ONE, LOSERS! HOPE YA FUCK HIS BRAINS OUT, GERARD!”
Gerard regarded the scene before him. He was standing in his kitchen, cradling a dead boy to his chest, stroking his hair in an absent mind. Frank smelled so damn good, from his neck to his hair to whole stretch of skin in general. His eyes were a glittering bright jade, and the dead thing was excited and trembling, quivering with the way things had just played out with Gerard's former partner. Way was still in daze.
"Well," Frank said, eyes still huge. "That was...interesting."
"No offence Frankie," Gerard told him, shrugging, "but you creep me the fuck out. Seriously. The screaming inside my head, and the fucking mind-reader shit and the general fucking karma police officer shit." He stared the other boy down, softening considerably when Frank was gazing at him with those big old eyes. They were mezmerizing; big as dinner plates. Frank leant against the kitchen counter, breathing heavily stil. Open sacks of leaking flour and dough wwas flung around the kitchen, soaking in the scene from when Frank had freaked out a little. Gerard pursed his lips and placed his hands on his waist. "I wanna know shit, Frankie. This making-me-a-pefect-dude and all that can only work if me and you got trust, yanno?" He stood his ground firmly. "I wanna know."
Frank paused for a moment and then blinked. He met the other's gaze.
"What do you wish to know?"
"The eyes." They had been on Gerard's mind since day one; those creepy orbs would flicker into a different colour every so often, from beautiful deep honey to startling, disturbing crimson. The bully needed to know the meaning behind the abnommal occurance. "I wanna know why your eyes freak out sometimes, go a different colour and stuff. It's creepy as shit. Like that kid from The Omen or something."
Not to be annoying, but sweet Jesus that movie scares the living shit out of me. It is so fucking creepy, and that kid is just ugh ._.
"Yes, my eyes," Frank said with a soft, adorable smile. "That's something I get asked about often."
Gerard waited patiently, watching that tiny grin. The other one's lips looked so soft and plush, so kissable...
"Gerard. Stop that." The karma police officer said sternly, smile vanishing. "You're not allowed think dirty thoughts about me."
"That wasn't even dirty!" Gerard protested, incredulous. Christ, this kid was so fucking abstinent. "I just thought about kissing you, Jesus. I could think a lot worst, believe you me. I'd be pretty fucking flattered if I were you, I don't kiss every guy that I meet-"
"The problem is that you do, Gerard," Iero said in a dull monotone. Was that a hint of....jealousy in his voice? "Don't be ridiculous, of course I'm not jealous. It's against the rules. The reason I'm here is because you do kiss every guy you meet." A little ding! came from the oven nearby. Frank grinned and clapped his hands. "Yay! My cookies are done!"
"Frankie." Gerard was trying not to smile at how cute the other one was. "I wana hear about those eyes, man."
"Just a minute, just a minute," Frank said, flustered, pulling on a pink frilly apron and pulling a tray from the bottom shelf of the oven. "Your mother has the best baking utencils, Gerard, she even has the new Heston Blumenthal book that I've seen recently. These are Moroccan mago and chocolate cookies I've been working on recently, I hope they turned out well-"
"Lemme guess," Way said, upstarting now. "Th goddamn cookies symbolize how I dunno, I start off as a bunch of shit and then you morph me into a good person by baking me or something, and then I eat the cookies and there's like fucking truth-telling potion in the cookies and they're not Moroccan cookies they're like cake parl moi cookies or some shit like that." He finished, chest heaving. He was sure any minute now he'd hear that stupid song, but, to his surprise, Frank looked innocent, amused even.
"No no," he shrugged. "I just like baking."
"Oh." Frank handed him one of the biscuits and Way popped it in his mouth; damn, it was good. It sunk into your mouth slowly and teased your tastebuds. "Yeah, they're...they're pretty good."
"Thank you." Frank perched on the counter, smiling sweetly. He squeezed his eyes shut and suddenly the kitchen was spotless, gleaming. The previous mess that had littered the floor was gone; sweeped up by an unseen force. That did actually unnerve Gerard a little; he was still getting used to the super powers. "Now...do you want me to tell you about my eyes?"
"And everything else." Gerard peered at him carefully. "I wanna know everything about being a karma police officer. Everyfreakingthing."
Frank nodded and sat down at the table with Gerard. Then, he told everything about being a karma police officer.
Yeah I know this chapter sucked and was quite short but I had shit to do this week, I'm so sorry >-< hope you like anyway-next chapter will be what Frankie tells Gerard.
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