idefkXD

Title:  'Cause we run under the stars through cemetery backyards, celebrate the way the night hides scars Author: Le moi (Ninjabuscus) Genre:  Angst and fluff Rating: I don’t know, just don’t hand copies of this to five year olds Warnings: Mild swearing? Mentions of self harm Disclaimer: One does not own Kellin (from Sleeping With Sirens) or Vic (from Pierce The Veil). All of this is fictional and in no way do I imply that they are actually in a relationship. Author's Note: Enjoy! This is my first Kellic, wooh…? Kellin’s PoV “Kellin, what’s wrong? It’s one in the morning.” I heard Vic&

I turned gently in my sleep, dreaming about the new song Frank and I were writing for the band. My dreams predicted it was going to be hit. I was rudely awakened from my sleep by a loud crashing noise coming from outside the tour bus. I sat up and looked out the window. "Bloody thunderstorms" I mumbled to myself, still half asleep. I lay back down and attempted to get back to my dreams but I knew the thunder wouldn't allow it. I lay still for a while dozing. I heard someone else shuffling around on the other side of the bus. Frank. He was terrified of thunderstorms, they scared the hell out of him. I immediately felt bad for not thinkin

 The follow is a comical Frerard story based loosely on things that have happened and mixed with a hell of a lot of things that haven't. Comment and fave or a kitten will shoot iteself. Babies. Yeah. Note: If you haven't seen the video for Gerard Way's moaning, I suggest you check it out. I highly recommend "Gerardgasm" on Youtube. ^_^ Not only is it amazing, but you'll understand the story more. Now enjoy, ya perves. The moaning has got to stop. That is, word for word, what Frank thought as he strummed the chords for their bands newest song. Had anyone been looking at him and not the moaning vocalist, they would have seen that he had rolle

   Squeak...  "Ugh."  Squeak. Squeak, squeak  "Geez, this f---king bed needs fixed or something, it's annoying!" Gerard muttered angrily to himself, changing positions in an attempt to become comfortable while doodling. His pencil trailed across the page, making dark lines that contrasted with the pure white of the page, "Ugh!" Squeak, squeak.  Gerard adjusted his position, now leaning on his left elbow. He erased a line quickly, making the bed squeak with the fast movements of his arm. He frowned, making a growling sound. The squeaky springs in his bed were becoming increasingly bothersome to him. How could he possibly draw somethin

Sometimes, strange things happen around our tour bus. Living on tour is never boring. Okay, yeah, sometimes it is boring. But what I mean is…it's interesting.  The four of us each have our own respective personalities, and living together on a bus is like throwing those personalities into a blender on puree and then voila! You have a strange blend of zany, chaotic, activity and muddled body clocks, weird smells, and a lot of coffee. It's difficult to have very much privacy or breathing space, no matter what bus upgrade we've earned this time around.  For example, when someone (Ray) falls asleep on the couch in

Frank's POV: The first thing I noticed when the Way family walked in through our door was that one of the brothers was incredibly cute. He was exactly the kind of boy I dreamed about; dark haired, not too tall, dressed in tight, black jeans and with eyeliner applied thickly and masterfully. Unfortunately, in my experience, all dream boys are either taken, straight or don't exist. And also unfortunately, this boy looked like the kind who was taken or at least wanted by many… "Donna, Donald, how good to see you!" my mother gushed, stepping forwards and embracing both Mr and Mrs Way. She turned to the two boys. "And these must be the famous W

"Whoa, check out the new kid." Ray nudged me in the ribcage and after whacking him on the arm, I turned. A talk boy with shaggy dark hair, pale skin, big, scared-looking eyes and a lollipop jammed firmly in his mouth walked past our table, lunch tray in hand. He looked for a place to sit but nobody seemed to be offering. "You think we should ask him to sit with us?" I muttered, transfixed by the way he moved the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other without using his hands. He caught me looking at him and smiled shyly. I looked away. Ray groaned. "Frank! You aren't crushing on this guy are you? He's a total weirdo!" "No…"

It was raining today, the drops attacking his window. School was over for the week, but his book bag was stuffed near to breaking. Most were Mr. Way's textbooks since he insisted on bombarding him with essays and foreign language assignments. Thank God that he only taught Italian and History because Frank wasn't so sure he could handle any more of his teacher's "little" assignments. He'd taken off his shoes and dropped his book bag on his bed which cried in protest.  It only took him thirty minutes to get himself situated and to pull out his first book which just so happened to be Italian. Great. Two minutes and he was moving onto the next bo

Mr. Way was interesting to say the least. He walked around with a little swing in his hips. He always spoke out the corner of his mouth, and he loved to be animate with his hands. Frank could watch him—stare at him rather – as he walked around the classroom. His hands were sometimes on his hips, teaching and disciplining students as he saw fit. Every once in a while, Mr. Way's eyes would drift over to Frank, and he always felt his heart jump in his throat until he turned away .After every class, he would wipe his sweaty hands on his pant legs. And every day when he walked out, he could feel Mr. Way's eyes bearing on his back. He'd

Warnings: May be triggering. Pairings: Kellic (Kellin Quinn and Vic Fuentes) Rating: That's up for you to decide, not me. I DO NOT (As much as I may want) OWN EITHER VIC OR KELLIN) Kellin sits alone in the darkness of the room the curtains were drawn out, but receive no light since their was not a star in the sky. The window is open and there was a cold breeze that makes him shudder but he doesn't care. He lacks the energy, and the effort, to stand and shut it. So he leaves it, allowing the Winters breeze to freeze him to the bone. At least he feels something. He's not crying, but that certainly is only because there are no more tears left