etben: flowers and sky (earnest)
etben ([personal profile] etben) wrote2008-05-09 09:35 pm
Entry tags:

seriously, i think i'm going to EXPLODE over here.

DEAR BANDOM HOW ARE YOU SO FUCKING ADORABLE TODAY PLEASE NEVER STOP
(A DISCOURSE IN THREE PARTS)

EXHIBIT A:

Okay, so. There's this dude called Jepha Howard, and the sum total of my knowledge about him is that:

a) he is in a band called The Used, and
b) he has a TINY PUPPY*:

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Really, though, I'm pretty sure that's all I need to know.

EXHIBIT B:

Every single thing about this post. Seriously, you guys. Emily the Strange interviewing Gerard Way. In comic form. I had to flap my hands madly in order to be able to BREATHE, it was so fucking adorable.

EXHIBIT C:

Bandom is having a Big Bang thing! and while I am totally not going to finish my story in time (I'm about 9,000 words short, and the deadline is tomorrow), I am kind of enchanted with how adorable it is, sometimes.

as evidence:

Frank's a little worried about the check out - they haven't been recognized so far, but they're also not the luckiest band in the whole world - but nobody seems to realize that three-fifths of My Chemical Romance just came in to buy out their baby supply section. The girl a few rows down gives them a weird look, then shakes herself a little, like they can't possibly be who she thinks they are; Frank pulls his hood up a little more and starts loading stuff onto the conveyor belt.

"Oh, my," says the clerk in their aisle, ringing up their purchases. "Looks like somebody's got a brand new bundle of joy!" Her name is Doris, and she looks about eighty million years old.

Gerard nods, shifting his weight. "Yeah, we're - well, we spend a lot of time on the road, so we're stocking up." Doris doesn't seem to think very much of that, and she gives Frank and Bob a stern look, managing somehow to become even wrinklier in the process.

"Well," she says finally, "I hope these boys are taking care of you, young lady." It takes them all a second to realize that she's talking to Gerard, and then Bob doubles over in a coughing fit and Gerard's cheeks turn pink. Frank bites the inside of his cheek and looks at the tabloids, ignoring Gerard's glare; the abominable snowman has apparently married a mermaid in a Vegas wedding.

"Yeah," Gerard says, eventually, "Don't worry, they're being very helpful."

Doris nods, her hair wobbling precariously. "And you've got your brother, too - that's good, you should have your family around at a trying time like this." Frank turns and stares at her for a second, trying to figure out how she knew Mikey was with them—maybe she's a fan? or maybe her granddaughter, more likely—before realizing that she means him, that she thinks he and Gerard are siblings, not just friends and bandmates. It kind of makes him want to scowl, but then she leans over and pats Gerard's cheek and calls him "missy" again, and he's back to chewing on his lip and trying not to giggle.

He makes it all the way outside, but only barely, and winds up clinging to Bob as they wheel the carts across the parking lot, both of them laughing too hard to breathe, much less hold themselves upright. Gerard, wheeling the other cart, is sulking.

"Did you see her glasses?" he asks. "She's got to be, like, blind, seriously."

Bob nods seriously. "Whatever you say, Miss Way." That sets Frank off again, which sets Bob off again, and they laugh all the way back to the bus.

The front lounge is quiet and empty, except for Mikey, stretched out on the couch with his headphones on, so they drop their purchase on his feet and ask where everybody is. He wakes up enough to wave vaguely toward the back of the bus, then rolls over onto a jar of peas and falls back asleep.

Gerard eases the door to the back studio open, then looks back and pulls Frank forward so that he can see. Katie's on the floor in her car seat, wrapped up in a nest of blankets, drooling a little but otherwise looking pretty alert for somebody who's basically just a digestive system. Ray's staring at her with this stuped little smile on his face, playing something soft and slow on his accoustic.

"And that," he says, "that's a diminished seventh, see - " he plays one, note by note and then all together, "- see how that sounds?" Katie burbles and coos, and Ray beams at her. "Yeah," he says, "yeah, and -"

"Ray," Frank says, "Ray, seriously, she's three months old." Ray looks up at him, startled, his fingers flattening on the neck of the guitar. Frank feels like an asshole, a little, but it's not like that's anything new.

"Um," he says. "Hey, you're back."

"Yeah," Frank says, turning around. "I'm going to catch some more sleep before tonight."

"Can't babies hear, like, in the womb or some shit?" Bob asks, but Frank doesn't wait around to hear the response; he climbs into his bunk and pulls the pillow over his head and sacks out.

*

SO YES. Basically I am being overwhelmed by the endless preciousosity of the universe, today. Send help! or, like, other links to cute shit.

OH ALSO: for the francophones on my flist: Re: vos cerveaux. Jonathan Coulton continues to be the most awesome of several awesome things.

PS [livejournal.com profile] berserkide, I totally just ganked that photo from you, to share with the sad souls who don't have you friended; let me know if it is not stealable and I will...do something else!