#stray fic

[jayonnaiseart]

I love them all

[liz-bizeeee]

Stray

(Mcr x Oc) Female drummer au

Platonic relationships/nicknames/blossoming relationships/strangers/

Purely unedited/word count unknown

During the formation of the band, Angel was their youngest and only female member.

She wasn’t even on Gerard’s radar initially, a friend of Mikey’s. She was some kid sleeping on their couch at the time. Nobody really knew much about her. Why she was there and where her family was? All some mystery.

What was known? Well.. she was around the record house pretty often. Often enough that Mikey realized that she might’ve actually lived there, he offered her a spot on their couch.

She had one of those appearances, very clearly a younger girl, very clearly in need of help. Her ability to hold down a drink and knowledgeability on music was not enough to fool many. She may have carried herself like this more mature person but then Mikey could see past his own drunken fog and see someone that was in survival mode.

She got along with the brothers, was pretty polite and thankful that they and their family were willing to take her. She would even calm her drinking habit so to be more respectful.

Mikey had neglected to ask permission before bringing her around. It was just this sudden decision and after over two weeks of not being home himself, he showed up and brought her along.

His grandma was a little surprised and would scold him in private but would otherwise accept the girl into her home. Angel had this pathetic look to her that couldn’t easily be turned away.

—

Still, in her time with Way brothers, moving in with them and becoming a part of their family, she wasn’t originally a candidate for the band. She was comfortable with just living with the family, played granddaughter and bonded with their grandma.

She clearly liked music and shared a common interest in the music they loved. But at the end of the day, she was still kind of a stranger and they really only knew what they saw. She hung out with Mikey a lot but she was quiet and didn’t actively share information about her own experiences and interests unprompted.

It was pretty common for her to follow them to their little meetings. Gerard had made a few calls and with Mikey learning to play the bass, he also had invited another guitarist and drummer into this project of his.

Angel had volunteered to be on snacks duty, she made cookies and bread with Granny. Warm freshly baked goods were never turned down so her presence was well appreciated.

It got to a point where even when she just didn’t have snacks on a particular day, the guys just got really hungry. They had associated her with food, couldn’t help it. She didn’t mind fixin food and if it really became an issue, she’d run off and cook something up.

-

Shortly before they had decided to record their first real song, or at least a demo for it, Matt got sick. Just a common cold or something but he was late and they didn’t have the time or money to reschedule. They just couldn’t do it!

Everyone was trying to contact friends or acquaintances that could fill in for the time being. It was just a frenzy of trying to find someone and the guys didn’t really notice as Angela started walking around and grabbed a pair of drumming sticks Matt lost prior.

She walked over to Gerard and tapped on his shoulder. She waited patiently as he turned and rolled his eyes to her.

“Yeah! Yeah I know it’s-“ he looks down at the phone as as the busy tone played through it. “Shit! Uh- shit! What do you want?” She asks turning to her.

She looked up to him then turned to the wall and started playing a steady rhythm against it. She remained otherwise silent, just let him listen.

She had never hinted or suggested that she could play. All those times when they were practicing, she was able to memorize their parts just from hearing and passively watching them.

Mikey ended his call too peeking up as he heard her. Her little show was nothing too serious but it showed that she at least had some sort of understanding.

No questions asked, “yes! You! Your name!” Gerard says nodding firmly. Mikey pat her on the back both brother instantly relieved.

Ray looked over to them as he put the phone back to the wall, “what’s going on?” He asks.

“We have a drummer, our little stray! She can fill in!” Mikey explains excitedly.

-

Angel was not super experienced with actually playing too much. She was in band class once upon a time and was pretty average back then.

As she played the drums for the first recording, she was cramping. She knew how the part was supposed to sound, knew the rhythm and speed of it and realized, in the moment, how much she underestimated Matt’s playing.

She was a drenched and sore mess after her recording. Was in there maybe fifteen minutes as she played and played as they added on or took from the initial ideas they had.

When she was finally done she just walked out of the room and sat outside against the building letting the cool breeze relieve her. The guys were cheering her on as they had still only now realized she had done that. Didn’t know she could drum. Didn’t think she’d be saving them like this especially.

Taking in a stray definitely worked out.

The heat of her body and the speed of her mind and heart and everything left the girl just crying for a moment in just overstimulation. Everything was too much and needed to just sit and wait it out.

She flinched when Ray joined her outside. Seeing the distant shaky look in her eyes, Ray decided not to say anything but sat against the wall with her so she wouldn’t be alone.

Part two!

[straycatfish]

FINALLY.... chapter 2 of wayward and flickering existence!

the fic is now COMPLETE...... i thought it was going to take me maybe a week to finish and it took uhh seven. giving your characters chronic fatigue is fun and games until you have to write about it while having chronic fatigue u___u

this chapter contains:

the vampire daniel entering his shimmery nail polish era

a needle drop that might only be funny to me but i think it's SO funny

ALICE ALICE ALICE

canon-typical levels of art bullshit

my tiny contribution to the armenian daniel molloy agenda through a medium i understand (wine)

a brief appearance from armand's amazon prime order history

thoughts on Vampirism and Disability and Things Of That Nature

asldfkjsjl ok pls tell me what you think if you read it (unless u think it's shit)

there will be at least one more fic in this series and it's going to be a fun one....... hehehe

[sunflowernyx]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“You don’t strike me as suicidal,” she finally judges. “Which means you’re talking for your life. How about keeping your end of the bargain instead?”

And she talks weird.

Cassian has never met anyone to be so frank, even on Ferrix. She makes judgements like a soldier, but no trooper he’s ever come across. Her judgements are harsh and cold like the blue light in her hair, and he is not unaware of the blaster still in her hand.

Though his has fallen stupidly to his side somewhere along the way.

“My end of the what?”

She rolls her eyes. “I saved your life,” she reminds him. “And I need a ride out of here.”

“And what? Take you anywhere you want to go? No way.”

Cassian lets his eyes roam her frame again. She’s slim. The baggy clothes she’s wearing are clearly stolen, too big for her, and in the rain they do a terrible job at hiding just how scrawny she looks.

He clearly isn’t the only rat, desperate and friendless.

She’s in a lot more precarious situation than she’s implying, and that makes her even more dangerous.

But she lifts her shoulder and scoffs. “Your life isn’t worth that much,” she says. “Just take me wherever you’re going and I’ll find my way from there.”

Cassian raises his eyebrows. “That’s it?”

It’d be the easiest debt he’s ever re-paid in his life.

“Sure,” she says, her voice already ringing with sarcasm. “Or we could stand here and wait for these two idiots to wake up and start all over again?”

Cassian chances a glance down at the sentries she’d knocked out like they were nothing. And then turns back to meet her green eyes in the light.

“Fine,” he says, already turning his back on the blaster. “Come on.”

The weapon vanishes, and the girl flows into step with him like a shadow.

[rollin-like-reigns]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I updated this. Nice. 

[jayonnaiseart]

1. BLUE (Opening Scene)

The opening scene of my Stray fic. I just started this and want to finish around 160k words, so there will be a long wait (plus I am in a verrrrry busy season of life)! In spite of that I feel like I can share the opening scene I have right now, because as most of my writings go, I will have to change or heavily edit it to become the final product.

On that note, if anyone has good ideas for titles I'm very open. Granted I'm not giving away spoilers so that doesn't help but I'm at a loss right now (I at least need a placeholder lol)

ANYway yeah hope ya'll enjoy!

1: BLUE As the last human on planet earth, B-12 considered it his duty to sit outside on the grass just once in his life. After all, he had died twice to get to this moment.

The fading sky was clear, but a steady wind from the east that smelled of ocean tore forcefully at the grass. Among the sounds of rippling grasses and the distant sea was the faint tinkling of a windchime placed farther up the slope. B-12 trudged between rocks and weeds, slowly meandering up the hillside looking for a place to rest his new legs. He thought- and thinking, that was nice to be able to do again- that calling himself a human at this point might not be the most accurate. It all depended of course, on the definition of “human,“ which, while being somewhat arbitrary, still probably had some kind of universally agreed upon limits. Physically, there was no reason that anyone should suspect that he was at any point a human. In the past, he had referred to himself as an AI, an artificial construct just like those around him. It was his most logical conclusion given his small world and the facts given. Back then, he had barely remembered humans’ existence. Those creatures, the “soft ones,” were honestly attributed to legend more than not-so-distant life. That idea, however, was from before he had remembered… everything.

Now, after it was all over, he wasn’t really sure he wanted the title. Nothing wrong with it, it was just that he’d be the only one.

On the other hand, he couldn’t exactly identify himself alongside the other Companions. They certainly wouldn’t mind, but it wasn’t entirely accurate either. In the end he decided to avoid thinking about it. It hurt- the loss that was supposed to be dulled centuries ago now opened up like a fresh wound for him to experience all over again. The loss of his life, the loss of himself, the loss of- No, not today. B-12 stopped, glanced around for a nice large rock, and sat down hard. Today was a day of freedom, not pain. He had fought his whole life for this moment and wasn’t about to ruin it thinking about the cost and the casualties. Immediately he put his head in his hands, trying to block out the wind. That was stupid. He’d done it all for them after all. It had been for them from the very beginning. And now that he’d finally succeeded they weren’t here. It was cruel, but there was nothing to be done about it. He wished he had the ability to have a good, genuine cry. Maybe if he did, he could move on. Instead, he looked up and watched the sun fade quickly behind the hills. It was weird. He felt ancient- like he had lived for hundreds of years. It was true of course, but the fact that he now remembered those hundreds of years made the sensation a whole lot worse. It didn’t help that he kept having to double back and explain himself to the other Companions after accidentally using an old human euphemism or slang word. That was getting old.

He knew the other Companions thought he was weird too. Although not daring to admit it, they’d give him odd side glances and jump around certain words in conversation. As if they were afraid a single word or wrong move would shatter B-12 into a million pieces again. While he didn’t plan on shattering into a million pieces anytime in the foreseeable future, given his track record he couldn’t really blame them. He liked the others… they just had a lot to learn. He might have felt ancient, but there was a certain aspect of “newness” present as well. This wasn’t as hard to understand. The new software Elliot had coded for him might have been brand new and completely custom, but it was still rough around the edges. He was still figuring out how to communicate specifics through the new operating system to his actual movements, and vice versa. Elliot claimed it was all automated, but B-12 had his doubts. His mind had the distinct feeling of a freshly moved-in apartment, where everything looks a little too in-its-place. Every so often he’d go searching for something he needed that got overlooked. And every so often he’d be holding something he didn’t know what to do with. Like the hand thing. Although the others kept telling him that it was neither normal nor necessary to want to move each finger individually, there was a definite sort of clumsiness that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get used to. Probably most concerning, however, was it seemed that his transfer to the new OS had not gone nearly as smoothly as claimed. On attempting to access some tidbit of knowledge or nugget of wisdom from the past, B-12 found his memory files in absolute shambles… again. It was, thankfully, better than last time. Everything was still in there. It was just all in the wrong order, making it exceptionally difficult to pinpoint certain ideas- no matter how new or important they were. He didn’t blame Doc or Elliot. Most likely it was the Network doing it’s thing again, just with significantly less prolonged contact. The Network, apparently, likes to scramble one’s brain like eggs. The memory thing wasn’t a terribly bad problem though. In fact, it was helping B-12 and his “best not to think about it” policy quite a lot. B-12 watched as the first star made its appearance. He was almost glad, he thought with a twinge of satisfaction. Any other human probably would have made the transition a lot worse. His “useless” computer science degree was finally paying off, never mind it being a couple centuries later. He should be able to sand down the rough corners of his Companion body programming over the coming weeks. Either way, he was very glad the other Companions had done this for him. Aside from the drawbacks, it certainly beat being stuck in the Network or in a drone. Vaguely, he wondered if the Little Outsider was staring at the night sky with him, only a couple miles away.

=^. .^=

[jayonnaiseart]

Ok Bee that's a little dark for this story