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wildestrangerTitle: Stylised Acts of Performativity; or, how to save the world by licking your bandmates
Fandom: Bandslash, oh god
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, implied Pete/Patrick, Frank/Patrick, Pete/Mikey
Words: 1385
Rating: R for suggestive language.
Summary: Frank is still the prettiest, and lording it over others.
Disclaimer: This is fictional account of events which never happened, and no disrespect is intended for the people involved. Just a bit of silly humour, which is not even that funny and a part of my brain is going omg shut up you’re so embarrassing, but what can say? These boys are so inspirational. Their creative acts invite creative acts from their fans, and sometimes that creativity just needs to take the form of gayporn and/or crackfic meta.
This is what my brain comes up with sometimes. I apologise for my brain.
Notes: Thank you for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stele3 for the read-through, and saving me from pink knickers. :*g*
Frank is full of exciting news. These are news that need to be shared with his bandmates.
“I’m still the prettiest!”
A short silence ensues. Then, with mild yet noticeable rage, Ray speaks up.
“Okay, who told Frank about the poll?”
Bob blinks. “What poll?”
Gerard stirs his coffee, doing his Endlessly-Fascinated-By-The-Hot-Liquid face. Mikey stares at Ray blankly, then goes back to his Sidekick. Frank continues to vibrate. The couch vibrates with him
“I’m prettier than Patrick Stump! Or VickyT! Or Jon Walker!”
Bob frowns. “Patrick is pretty hot.”
Frank’s smirk is coy. “You’re being voted off next, you know. Since I am the prettiest and Gerard is, well, Gerard.”
Gerard stops stirring his coffee.
Bob blinks again. “Okay.”
Mikey’s voice is amused: “Pete says Patrick doesn’t care. And that in the final countdown, you’re going down.”
Frank scowls. “I knew he was voting for me. But the fangirls love me best, so I’m going to win anyway. Cause I’m the prettiest!”
Gerard puts on his earnest face. “Fanpeople. They’re not all girls, you know. And you don’t want to discriminate along, like, gender lines.”
They all stare at Gerard, who gives a beatific smile and goes back to his coffee.
Frank: “You’ve been voting for yourself as the sexiest female on the Kerrang!-poll, haven’t you?”
Gerard sips his coffee and continues to smile.
Mikey: “Also, Pete says that Ryan Ross is going to kill you in your sleep. And he’ll get Spencer to help as soon as he gets voted off.”
Bob, disturbed. “Who’s voting against Spencer Smith?”
Frank shrugs. “Well, there’s Jon Walker.”
Everyone takes a moment to contemplate Jon Walker. Gerard shifts in his seat and Bob says, “Fair enough.”
Not easily distracted from his purpose, Frank speaks: “Still. I’m the prettiest.” In case they had forgotten.
And in case Ray had not been aggravated sufficiently. As if on cue, Ray explodes. His hair begins to quiver. Frank thinks this is awesome.
“Look, it’s a completely arbitrary poll! Those people are crazy anyway! And they’re voting for who is least sexy, not who’s the prettiest, and they’re all twelve-year-old girls, so who cares!”
“Aww, you feeling bad cause they don’t write as much porn about you? It’s your own fault, you know. You told them not to. And Gerard and me are just prettier.”
Gerard nods. “Besides, Ray, you shouldn’t speak badly about our fans. They’re the reason we’re here, you know.”
Ray counts to ten in his head. His hair, however, continues to twitch.
“It’s not cause you’re prettier, Frank, it’s because you keep licking him on stage.”
Frank smirks.
“I lick him on stage cause he’s pretty.”
Gerard: “And it’s our stance against homophobia. It’s in the band policy statement and all.”
“Oh yes, must grope bandmates on stage in order to promote more queerfriendly culture in the music industry.”
Gerard nods again, now earnestly in earnest.
“You shook hands on it as well. And you were in the group hug.”
“Well, Frank said he’d lick my eyeball if I didn’t.”
“Frank is doing his bit against homophobia and heteronormativity.”
“You’ve been reading the wank about the stagegay again, Gee?”
“Maybe. But there’s some very clever people out there. And they get what we’re trying to do.”
“Those people write gayporn about us!”
“Well, who are you to stifle other people’s creativity? That’s not cool, dude. We agreed on this.”
“You mean you made me sign a document stating I would never speak against fanfiction in public while Frank threatened me with biting my ear.”
“Yes. And you signed it.”
Ray’s hair starts to quiver again. Frank reaches out to pull at it, but Bob slaps his hand away. There’s annoying Ray and then there’s Annoying Ray In A Way That Leads To Justifiable Homicide, and they had promised Brian they wouldn’t do that anymore. The bus smells bad enough as it is.
: :
Two days later, Frank tries to console Bob for his loss by jumping on him from the kitchen table. Bob points out that Frank often tries to console him in the same way for it being Tuesday (which, hey, Tuesdays can be harsh, especially when they run out of cookies), and that a better way to cheer him up would be to stop telling everyone he is the prettiest.
But that, as Frank says while stealthily trying to jump on Bob’s back, would be too much to ask.
: :
A week later, it’s Gerard’s turn. He doesn’t say much, but Frank knows that deep down inside he must be sad. Also, he starts to hum that song from West Side Story.
Fortunately, Frank has perfected his cheering-up-Gerard routine years ago. It involves his dick and Gerard’s dick and marshmallows, and sometimes Ray’s bunk. Frank is proud of his cheering-up-Gerard technique because it offers not only mutually satisfying orgasms but also nutritional items and Ray-aggravation.
Not to mention that it makes the world a better place (“Saving lives!” as Gerard likes to mumble around Frank’s cock) by being anti-heteronormative.
: :
Then, Frank gets an email from Patrick.
Congratulations on being sexier than the rest of your band, but could you please stop texting Pete about being prettier than him all the time? I realise that you have Gerard and all kinds of experience about dealing with emo, but seriously, this is Pete Wentz. And if you do that one more time he’s going to film himself crying and post it on his blog, and then all the fangirls will send him mail about how pretty he is, and he’s going to make me read all of them. Again. Please stop. Please.
Best regards,
P. Stump
Frank stops, because he is a generous guy like that and because Patrick doesn’t deserve to deal with all this shit. Besides, there are better ways to annoy Pete Wentz.
Three hours later, Frank gets a text from Pete.
what r u txtng Patrick hes blushing and squirming stop it now
Frank responds:
Just telling him how pretty he is. Don’t you think Patrick deserves to know?
Pete’s reply takes two minutes.
iero u r going down nxt wk. down down down!
It takes a special amount of rage to make Pete Wentz use punctuation. Frank feels accomplished.
: :
The day Gerard wins the Kerrang! Poll for sexiest female (and loses out to William Beckett for sexiest male, what’s up with that?), there’s a party in the MCR bus.
Frank wants to invite only Patrick, Jon, VickyT, Greta, Travis, William and Tyson (to celebrate the prettiness, naturally), but Gerard vetoes that. Well, Gerard promises to dress up in drag, and Frank agrees as long as he gets to choose the skirt (short and pleated). They argue over the appropriate underwear (Frank: “It’s like a kilt! There shouldn’t be any!” Gerard: “And yet I am not Pete Wentz, so hell no.”), and while Gerard ends up with perfectly respectable white boxers, Frank spends a large part of the night making Gerard squirm by sliding a finger up said boxers.
Pete Wentz also shows up in a skirt. It’s shorter than Gerard’s, and a lot sluttier, which seems to make both Pete and Gerard very happy. Patrick, on the other hand, looks mostly uncomfortable, although that could be because Pete insists on sitting on his lap. And wiggling a lot.
(Ryan Ross also wears a skirt, but no one notices until Brendon accidentally trips him over and they all get flashed with frilly pink panties.)
The best part of evening, though, is Bob, who wears a marching band uniform for girls, and gives blank looks to everyone who tries to comment. He also fondles his drumsticks in a way that causes Spencer Smith’s bitchface (firmly in place after Ryan’s incident) to waver.
Frank is proud. His prettiness brings all the boys to the yard.
: :
The next morning, the note on their fridge has been updated.
Iero: 2107
Heteronormative World Order: 0
Number of blowjobs owed by GW to FI:12 8 4
There’s also a post-it note attached.
Glad that you’re doing your bit for the struggle, but please please please stop telling us about it. That last part really isn’t necessary.
Mikey
Frank smirks, and reminds himself to ask Gerard about putting something in the band contract about the importance of visibility in public performances.
He’ll need it for next week’s poll.
Fandom: Bandslash, oh god
Pairing: Frank/Gerard, implied Pete/Patrick, Frank/Patrick, Pete/Mikey
Words: 1385
Rating: R for suggestive language.
Summary: Frank is still the prettiest, and lording it over others.
Disclaimer: This is fictional account of events which never happened, and no disrespect is intended for the people involved. Just a bit of silly humour, which is not even that funny and a part of my brain is going omg shut up you’re so embarrassing, but what can say? These boys are so inspirational. Their creative acts invite creative acts from their fans, and sometimes that creativity just needs to take the form of gayporn and/or crackfic meta.
This is what my brain comes up with sometimes. I apologise for my brain.
Notes: Thank you for
stele3 for the read-through, and saving me from pink knickers. :*g*Frank is full of exciting news. These are news that need to be shared with his bandmates.
“I’m still the prettiest!”
A short silence ensues. Then, with mild yet noticeable rage, Ray speaks up.
“Okay, who told Frank about the poll?”
Bob blinks. “What poll?”
Gerard stirs his coffee, doing his Endlessly-Fascinated-By-The-Hot-Liquid face. Mikey stares at Ray blankly, then goes back to his Sidekick. Frank continues to vibrate. The couch vibrates with him
“I’m prettier than Patrick Stump! Or VickyT! Or Jon Walker!”
Bob frowns. “Patrick is pretty hot.”
Frank’s smirk is coy. “You’re being voted off next, you know. Since I am the prettiest and Gerard is, well, Gerard.”
Gerard stops stirring his coffee.
Bob blinks again. “Okay.”
Mikey’s voice is amused: “Pete says Patrick doesn’t care. And that in the final countdown, you’re going down.”
Frank scowls. “I knew he was voting for me. But the fangirls love me best, so I’m going to win anyway. Cause I’m the prettiest!”
Gerard puts on his earnest face. “Fanpeople. They’re not all girls, you know. And you don’t want to discriminate along, like, gender lines.”
They all stare at Gerard, who gives a beatific smile and goes back to his coffee.
Frank: “You’ve been voting for yourself as the sexiest female on the Kerrang!-poll, haven’t you?”
Gerard sips his coffee and continues to smile.
Mikey: “Also, Pete says that Ryan Ross is going to kill you in your sleep. And he’ll get Spencer to help as soon as he gets voted off.”
Bob, disturbed. “Who’s voting against Spencer Smith?”
Frank shrugs. “Well, there’s Jon Walker.”
Everyone takes a moment to contemplate Jon Walker. Gerard shifts in his seat and Bob says, “Fair enough.”
Not easily distracted from his purpose, Frank speaks: “Still. I’m the prettiest.” In case they had forgotten.
And in case Ray had not been aggravated sufficiently. As if on cue, Ray explodes. His hair begins to quiver. Frank thinks this is awesome.
“Look, it’s a completely arbitrary poll! Those people are crazy anyway! And they’re voting for who is least sexy, not who’s the prettiest, and they’re all twelve-year-old girls, so who cares!”
“Aww, you feeling bad cause they don’t write as much porn about you? It’s your own fault, you know. You told them not to. And Gerard and me are just prettier.”
Gerard nods. “Besides, Ray, you shouldn’t speak badly about our fans. They’re the reason we’re here, you know.”
Ray counts to ten in his head. His hair, however, continues to twitch.
“It’s not cause you’re prettier, Frank, it’s because you keep licking him on stage.”
Frank smirks.
“I lick him on stage cause he’s pretty.”
Gerard: “And it’s our stance against homophobia. It’s in the band policy statement and all.”
“Oh yes, must grope bandmates on stage in order to promote more queerfriendly culture in the music industry.”
Gerard nods again, now earnestly in earnest.
“You shook hands on it as well. And you were in the group hug.”
“Well, Frank said he’d lick my eyeball if I didn’t.”
“Frank is doing his bit against homophobia and heteronormativity.”
“You’ve been reading the wank about the stagegay again, Gee?”
“Maybe. But there’s some very clever people out there. And they get what we’re trying to do.”
“Those people write gayporn about us!”
“Well, who are you to stifle other people’s creativity? That’s not cool, dude. We agreed on this.”
“You mean you made me sign a document stating I would never speak against fanfiction in public while Frank threatened me with biting my ear.”
“Yes. And you signed it.”
Ray’s hair starts to quiver again. Frank reaches out to pull at it, but Bob slaps his hand away. There’s annoying Ray and then there’s Annoying Ray In A Way That Leads To Justifiable Homicide, and they had promised Brian they wouldn’t do that anymore. The bus smells bad enough as it is.
: :
Two days later, Frank tries to console Bob for his loss by jumping on him from the kitchen table. Bob points out that Frank often tries to console him in the same way for it being Tuesday (which, hey, Tuesdays can be harsh, especially when they run out of cookies), and that a better way to cheer him up would be to stop telling everyone he is the prettiest.
But that, as Frank says while stealthily trying to jump on Bob’s back, would be too much to ask.
: :
A week later, it’s Gerard’s turn. He doesn’t say much, but Frank knows that deep down inside he must be sad. Also, he starts to hum that song from West Side Story.
Fortunately, Frank has perfected his cheering-up-Gerard routine years ago. It involves his dick and Gerard’s dick and marshmallows, and sometimes Ray’s bunk. Frank is proud of his cheering-up-Gerard technique because it offers not only mutually satisfying orgasms but also nutritional items and Ray-aggravation.
Not to mention that it makes the world a better place (“Saving lives!” as Gerard likes to mumble around Frank’s cock) by being anti-heteronormative.
: :
Then, Frank gets an email from Patrick.
Congratulations on being sexier than the rest of your band, but could you please stop texting Pete about being prettier than him all the time? I realise that you have Gerard and all kinds of experience about dealing with emo, but seriously, this is Pete Wentz. And if you do that one more time he’s going to film himself crying and post it on his blog, and then all the fangirls will send him mail about how pretty he is, and he’s going to make me read all of them. Again. Please stop. Please.
Best regards,
P. Stump
Frank stops, because he is a generous guy like that and because Patrick doesn’t deserve to deal with all this shit. Besides, there are better ways to annoy Pete Wentz.
Three hours later, Frank gets a text from Pete.
what r u txtng Patrick hes blushing and squirming stop it now
Frank responds:
Just telling him how pretty he is. Don’t you think Patrick deserves to know?
Pete’s reply takes two minutes.
iero u r going down nxt wk. down down down!
It takes a special amount of rage to make Pete Wentz use punctuation. Frank feels accomplished.
: :
The day Gerard wins the Kerrang! Poll for sexiest female (and loses out to William Beckett for sexiest male, what’s up with that?), there’s a party in the MCR bus.
Frank wants to invite only Patrick, Jon, VickyT, Greta, Travis, William and Tyson (to celebrate the prettiness, naturally), but Gerard vetoes that. Well, Gerard promises to dress up in drag, and Frank agrees as long as he gets to choose the skirt (short and pleated). They argue over the appropriate underwear (Frank: “It’s like a kilt! There shouldn’t be any!” Gerard: “And yet I am not Pete Wentz, so hell no.”), and while Gerard ends up with perfectly respectable white boxers, Frank spends a large part of the night making Gerard squirm by sliding a finger up said boxers.
Pete Wentz also shows up in a skirt. It’s shorter than Gerard’s, and a lot sluttier, which seems to make both Pete and Gerard very happy. Patrick, on the other hand, looks mostly uncomfortable, although that could be because Pete insists on sitting on his lap. And wiggling a lot.
(Ryan Ross also wears a skirt, but no one notices until Brendon accidentally trips him over and they all get flashed with frilly pink panties.)
The best part of evening, though, is Bob, who wears a marching band uniform for girls, and gives blank looks to everyone who tries to comment. He also fondles his drumsticks in a way that causes Spencer Smith’s bitchface (firmly in place after Ryan’s incident) to waver.
Frank is proud. His prettiness brings all the boys to the yard.
: :
The next morning, the note on their fridge has been updated.
Iero: 2107
Heteronormative World Order: 0
Number of blowjobs owed by GW to FI:
There’s also a post-it note attached.
Glad that you’re doing your bit for the struggle, but please please please stop telling us about it. That last part really isn’t necessary.
Mikey
Frank smirks, and reminds himself to ask Gerard about putting something in the band contract about the importance of visibility in public performances.
He’ll need it for next week’s poll.
