Status: Believe me, my tiny little group of readers, I'm not giving this one up. Updates are going to start surfacing on a regular basis, just lemme get college application stuff out the way first. Kinda important. ::tehe:
The Technicolor Daydreamer; Folie A Deux.
This story takes place in a minuscule, unintelligible mishmash of a hicktown, some strange nameless cross between Belleville, New Jersey, Morganville, and a sleepy little southern place half an hour away from Dallas. It's a weird mix of suburbia and rural splotches here and there, a place where even the freaks and geeks have their place in running things in the schools in between their hits of substances much stronger than the juice boxes they were raised on. It's a place where most girls are rich, spoiled, and easy, and the liquor's cheap, and few have the common sense to get out of the crumbling town before it suffocates them, just as it did the others. It's a place where the guys are more than "rough around the edges"; they'll make you scream and bleed...and make you enjoy every minute of it while they do.
And yet...the lazy, kind of quiet little town's still pleasant in small doses. Sun baked and tobacco-stained but still soggy at the same time. Full of thick woodlands unexplored as of yet by stupid adolescents and hobos and murderous degenerates seeking shelter. Livestock and farms interwoven with all the meager attempts at modernizing the place, until the mayor made off to Broadway shows and cruises with the tiny city's scraped-together taxes. The police in town aren't too busy, the Mayberry-esque sheriff lazily stopping motorists in his spare time while the single trafflic light flickers over the desolate tar streets of the city's measly downtown area. You don't drive to it, you drive through it.
The town's crumbling from the inside out. But once you go there, you'll never want to leave.
---
Partially an autobiography, and partially a really, really weird romance. Not sappy. Involves Frank Iero. Kind of surreal and outlandish, and belongs in an alternate universe of sorts.
And yes, I sort of recycled a character name. My own. Sue me.
This is different from Crushed Skittles And Glass, and different from We Salute You In Your Grave.
The only connecting factor, as I mentioned above, is that Frank's in it.
There will be violence. There will be drug use. There'll be a bit ofcussingcursing language. And some suggestive bits.
And the rest of MCR's in it, too...as well as The Used.
Don't take anything personal about Bert's role; I needed a villain.
Oh, and the only characters I own in this thing is me and my best friend, who'll be writing some guest chapters from time to time.Trust me, if I ever had the chance to own Frank Iero, we'd be married, living in Italy, and he'd be handcuffed to my headboard while i'm typing this.
With all the preliminaries out of the way, let the games begin.
Font too small? Hit Ctrl and +.
And yet...the lazy, kind of quiet little town's still pleasant in small doses. Sun baked and tobacco-stained but still soggy at the same time. Full of thick woodlands unexplored as of yet by stupid adolescents and hobos and murderous degenerates seeking shelter. Livestock and farms interwoven with all the meager attempts at modernizing the place, until the mayor made off to Broadway shows and cruises with the tiny city's scraped-together taxes. The police in town aren't too busy, the Mayberry-esque sheriff lazily stopping motorists in his spare time while the single trafflic light flickers over the desolate tar streets of the city's measly downtown area. You don't drive to it, you drive through it.
The town's crumbling from the inside out. But once you go there, you'll never want to leave.
---
Partially an autobiography, and partially a really, really weird romance. Not sappy. Involves Frank Iero. Kind of surreal and outlandish, and belongs in an alternate universe of sorts.
And yes, I sort of recycled a character name. My own. Sue me.
This is different from Crushed Skittles And Glass, and different from We Salute You In Your Grave.
The only connecting factor, as I mentioned above, is that Frank's in it.
There will be violence. There will be drug use. There'll be a bit ofcussingcursing language. And some suggestive bits.
And the rest of MCR's in it, too...as well as The Used.
Don't take anything personal about Bert's role; I needed a villain.
Oh, and the only characters I own in this thing is me and my best friend, who'll be writing some guest chapters from time to time.Trust me, if I ever had the chance to own Frank Iero, we'd be married, living in Italy, and he'd be handcuffed to my headboard while i'm typing this.
With all the preliminaries out of the way, let the games begin.
Font too small? Hit Ctrl and +.