Status: Hiatus: Undergoing re-write.
What Happened in Vegas?!
Worlds Apart
Gerard Way, 23 years old. Tall and handsome. Dark hair, grown to just around the bottom of his ears, and green eyes that stood out from the furthest part of a room. He had pale skin, almost making him look cold and dead looking, but in all honesty, he was a nice and warm-hearted guy. Unlike most people, he really did enjoy his job, even if he wasn't the most important person to work there.
He worked at a big comic book/cartoon industry, and although he didn't always like the idea of being told what he had to draw, he did it anyway because he was very into art, and very very talented at what he did.
There was an opportunity coming up soon though, which would mean that he could come up with his own ideas and sketches for a new comic book and present it to his boss for publishing. This was important to Gerard, because if he did well, it'd mean that he'd be in for a very good chance of having so much more control over the things he drew, and rather than being told what to do, he could tell others.
"Morning" he smiled, as he strutted into work ready for a new day. He didn't get many replies as a lot of people were always drowsy and grumbly in the mornings, though Gerard could never quite work out why. The morning was the most refreshing time of the day and it signifies new chance, and new opportunities. He smiled his way into his small office to find a letter on his desk. He eagerly opened it, only for his face to drop dramatically as he ready the contents.
Mr Way, we are sorry to say that your most recent cartoon idea "The Breakfast Monkey" has been rejected...
He slammed the letter onto the desk, not wanting to read anymore, and leant back in his chair rubbing his face with his hands. This won't go down too well with his boss...
+------+
Frank Iero, also handsome, but definatly not the definition of tall. He had black hair on the top of his head, that was grown down at the front so that it could flop over his face like a fringe, with short red hair on both sides of his head. He had hazel eyes, which could sometimes appear green, and lightly tanned skin.
Frank didn't have a job, instead he was in a band. He didn't think it fitting for him, to be doing the same thing day-in, day-out, and to protest against this, he got a tattoo of a scorpion as high up on his neck as he could - just so it'd be harder for him to become employed. He knew this was a stupid thing to do, but he's 19 years old...so he just doesn't care.
Unlike the older man, he does not enjoy mornings, and usually spent most of them recovering from the night before. Slowly he arose from his bed, and stumbled to his bathroom where he continued on to empty the contents of his stomach into the shiny porcelain bowl. Standing upright, wiping his mouth, he looked into the mirror and winced. He knew that for his own health he should start having a few nights off to rest, but where was the fun in that?
He made his way slowly downstairs, to find a note on the kitchen table, written in his mothers too neat handwriting:
Neil called and said that he, and the band, can't handle your drinking before you go on stage because it's ruining shows, so told me to tell you to sort yourself out, or they're looking for another singer.
PS. Aspirin in the cupboard.
He sighed, putting his head in his hands. He knew that he ruined most shows they did with this drinking, but he was too nervous to play sober.
He worked at a big comic book/cartoon industry, and although he didn't always like the idea of being told what he had to draw, he did it anyway because he was very into art, and very very talented at what he did.
There was an opportunity coming up soon though, which would mean that he could come up with his own ideas and sketches for a new comic book and present it to his boss for publishing. This was important to Gerard, because if he did well, it'd mean that he'd be in for a very good chance of having so much more control over the things he drew, and rather than being told what to do, he could tell others.
"Morning" he smiled, as he strutted into work ready for a new day. He didn't get many replies as a lot of people were always drowsy and grumbly in the mornings, though Gerard could never quite work out why. The morning was the most refreshing time of the day and it signifies new chance, and new opportunities. He smiled his way into his small office to find a letter on his desk. He eagerly opened it, only for his face to drop dramatically as he ready the contents.
Mr Way, we are sorry to say that your most recent cartoon idea "The Breakfast Monkey" has been rejected...
He slammed the letter onto the desk, not wanting to read anymore, and leant back in his chair rubbing his face with his hands. This won't go down too well with his boss...
+------+
Frank Iero, also handsome, but definatly not the definition of tall. He had black hair on the top of his head, that was grown down at the front so that it could flop over his face like a fringe, with short red hair on both sides of his head. He had hazel eyes, which could sometimes appear green, and lightly tanned skin.
Frank didn't have a job, instead he was in a band. He didn't think it fitting for him, to be doing the same thing day-in, day-out, and to protest against this, he got a tattoo of a scorpion as high up on his neck as he could - just so it'd be harder for him to become employed. He knew this was a stupid thing to do, but he's 19 years old...so he just doesn't care.
Unlike the older man, he does not enjoy mornings, and usually spent most of them recovering from the night before. Slowly he arose from his bed, and stumbled to his bathroom where he continued on to empty the contents of his stomach into the shiny porcelain bowl. Standing upright, wiping his mouth, he looked into the mirror and winced. He knew that for his own health he should start having a few nights off to rest, but where was the fun in that?
He made his way slowly downstairs, to find a note on the kitchen table, written in his mothers too neat handwriting:
Neil called and said that he, and the band, can't handle your drinking before you go on stage because it's ruining shows, so told me to tell you to sort yourself out, or they're looking for another singer.
PS. Aspirin in the cupboard.
He sighed, putting his head in his hands. He knew that he ruined most shows they did with this drinking, but he was too nervous to play sober.
♠ ♠ ♠
Ohhh, I always get so jittery posting new stories.Please leave comments so I knew whether it's worth posting more (I have like 4 or 5 chapters written up...and I have a kind of good feeling about them..)
EDIT: I know it's short, but it is just kind of an introduction to the different characters
&&&&&&: A bigsuperhuge thankyou to Mediocre Sinner. for pointing out some spelling mistakes. You all knew they were there didn't you. You just didn't say anything *shakes fist at!*