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mwestbelleJust got back from my Job Interview DUNDUN. I think it went well? IDK, it was really really brief (like, 10 minutes brief) and it was mostly the company people talking about what the job would entail? But they laughed a lot, and joked with me about my ballroom dancing, so I'm thinking that's a good sign. I think this would be a good fit for me, so fingers are crossed!
I am *totally* going to start working on my Epic Fic right about now, and I figured in order to help motivate myself, I could always drum up some interest so I can remember that PEOPLE WANT THIS FIC, WRITE IT, BITCH.
So...here's the almost-a-page I have written (EPIC, I KNOW)
Gerard tells Mikey that he’s quitting. Mikey asks what. Gerard gestures expansively. This, all this. Mikey looks at his brother--purpling bruising below bloodshot eyes, teeth stained from cigarettes and vomit (there’s still some crusted at the corners of his mouth and in his hair. Mikey is sensible, he keeps his hair short enough that it doesn’t fall in front of his face), tired and creased from too-little sleep. His voice is rough from not-sleeping, from vomiting, from years of abuse. Gerard tells Mikey that he’s quitting, and Mikey laughs in his face.
“Fucking what?”
Mikey just shakes his head and scratches under the waistband of his jeans. He forgot to take them off last night (this morning?) and now his skin is sweaty and scratchy and a little raw where the denim cut in while he was sleeping. He knows better than to listen to Gerard’s hungover rambling, which is even worse than his drunken rambling because at least then Mikey is wasted too and doesn’t have to really listen or remember. But the morning after, clean as clockwork, Gerard is filthy and depressed and full to bursting with ideas. Last week he wouldn’t shut up about the band he was going to start (never mind that he couldn’t play anything and didn’t have any friends who played anything and hadn’t sung since the fourth grade, not even counting how fucked up his voice had to be after years of hard-drinking and smoking like a fucking chimney). But he insisted that he was going to start this band and it was going to “fucking help people, Mikes, really.” Mikey bit his tongue, didn’t ask how the fuck he thought he could save the world with music when he couldn’t even get himself out of a shitty apartment.
The week before that he’d been rambling about something to do with cartoons and monkeys, whatever, Mikey’s head had been pounding way too much for him to listen to another one of Gerard’s retarded schemes. The point is, Gerard has grandiose ideas the morning after, while he’s sick and miserable. He wants to draw things, make music, save the world, be somebody. Mikey knows, his brother, god, he should, after living with him for nineteen years (two of those years with only Gerard). Gerard has no drive, no ambition, and that’s just as well because he’s a fucking coward. He can’t even remember the last night that Gerard even a little bit sober, and the last day he can remember was a long time ago. Getting clean is just another one of Gerard’s hungover fantasies, and it‘ll fade as soon as he swallows a handful of aspirin and gets a fifth of vodka in his belly (or rum, or whatever the fuck they still have left).
Soooooo, back to that then :D
I am *totally* going to start working on my Epic Fic right about now, and I figured in order to help motivate myself, I could always drum up some interest so I can remember that PEOPLE WANT THIS FIC, WRITE IT, BITCH.
So...here's the almost-a-page I have written (EPIC, I KNOW)
Gerard tells Mikey that he’s quitting. Mikey asks what. Gerard gestures expansively. This, all this. Mikey looks at his brother--purpling bruising below bloodshot eyes, teeth stained from cigarettes and vomit (there’s still some crusted at the corners of his mouth and in his hair. Mikey is sensible, he keeps his hair short enough that it doesn’t fall in front of his face), tired and creased from too-little sleep. His voice is rough from not-sleeping, from vomiting, from years of abuse. Gerard tells Mikey that he’s quitting, and Mikey laughs in his face.
“Fucking what?”
Mikey just shakes his head and scratches under the waistband of his jeans. He forgot to take them off last night (this morning?) and now his skin is sweaty and scratchy and a little raw where the denim cut in while he was sleeping. He knows better than to listen to Gerard’s hungover rambling, which is even worse than his drunken rambling because at least then Mikey is wasted too and doesn’t have to really listen or remember. But the morning after, clean as clockwork, Gerard is filthy and depressed and full to bursting with ideas. Last week he wouldn’t shut up about the band he was going to start (never mind that he couldn’t play anything and didn’t have any friends who played anything and hadn’t sung since the fourth grade, not even counting how fucked up his voice had to be after years of hard-drinking and smoking like a fucking chimney). But he insisted that he was going to start this band and it was going to “fucking help people, Mikes, really.” Mikey bit his tongue, didn’t ask how the fuck he thought he could save the world with music when he couldn’t even get himself out of a shitty apartment.
The week before that he’d been rambling about something to do with cartoons and monkeys, whatever, Mikey’s head had been pounding way too much for him to listen to another one of Gerard’s retarded schemes. The point is, Gerard has grandiose ideas the morning after, while he’s sick and miserable. He wants to draw things, make music, save the world, be somebody. Mikey knows, his brother, god, he should, after living with him for nineteen years (two of those years with only Gerard). Gerard has no drive, no ambition, and that’s just as well because he’s a fucking coward. He can’t even remember the last night that Gerard even a little bit sober, and the last day he can remember was a long time ago. Getting clean is just another one of Gerard’s hungover fantasies, and it‘ll fade as soon as he swallows a handful of aspirin and gets a fifth of vodka in his belly (or rum, or whatever the fuck they still have left).
Soooooo, back to that then :D
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 08:06 pm (UTC)Gross ways are gross. And never once did that part feel out of character...
sometimes I wonder why we love these guys.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 08:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 08:37 pm (UTC)But no, seriously, so far it looks pretty cool, I hope that you're able to finish it all!
At least Gee seems to have realized what a shower is lately...although I'm not so sure about Mikey. His hair is looking really greasy. But hot. HOW DOES THAT WORK?
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 08:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 08:30 pm (UTC)Just. Yes. Yes. A thousand time yes. I will curl up with this fic and sleep when it's finished.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 08:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 08:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 08:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 10:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 10:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 08:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:08 pm (UTC)andoral.(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:16 pm (UTC)I am looking forward to the rest of this!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-12 09:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-13 03:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-13 04:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-25 12:27 am (UTC)[I swear I want to leave cleaver comments but I just can't! not today!]
greets
xx
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-05 12:07 am (UTC)IF YES I THINK I NEED THIS LIKE A LOT. IT'S JUST SO HARD TO FIND GOOD WAYCEST :/