Welcome to Gaia! ::

you guys are so nice! i feel so special now!

unfortunately, the next installment won't come out for quite some time. I'm studying for midterms and everything, so, yeah...

I'm sorry! gonk I hate disappointing people...

*sigh* please comment more...I love comments. They make me happy.
okay, here's the next installment. It's a bit longer, I suppose:

After a couple of weeks staying with the guys, I got used to life on tour. I even got used to the camera crew hanging around. I even befriended some of them. It was now August, and Gerard was clean and sober. I stayed with them to make sure he stayed that way. I didn’t want to take the chance of a relapse. I was now working from my computer, sifting through different files of cartoonist hopefuls. It was there the guys found me at 5:00 in the afternoon after one of their concerts.
Ray walked up to me, the others trailing behind. “Hey, Gwen, can we talk to you for a sec?” I looked up from the computer, still typing an email to someone whose cartoon we accepted. “Yeah? What’s up?” I turned back to the screen. “Okay, so, we really like having you stay with us, and we were wondering if you would travel with us on the tour.” I looked up at him, confused. “But I already am.” “We want you to stay with us all of the time. Right now, you’ll eventually go back to New York. We want you staying with us full-time.” I frowned. “What about my job? I can’t work from the computer forever.” Ray paused. He turned around, and they huddled together like football players talking tactics. I spun around in my chair, took off my computer glasses, and watched them with a growing smile. Eventually, they agreed on something, and turned around to face me. Mikey spoke up. “We’re prepared to pay you. It may not be much, but you’ll be living with us, so you won’t have to pay for lodging or food.” “You’ll pay me to stay with you? That doesn’t seem very fair.” “No, it’ll be a job. You’ll be our sort of…” “Personal assistant.” Gerard finished. I turned around back to the computer and turned it off. I turned back to the guys and crossed my arms. “Let me get this straight. You people want me to give up my $100,000 annual paying job as something I’ve always wanted to be, to be a personal assistant for your band for a considerably less amount of money?” They all looked down at the ground. I smiled a huge smile and tackled them all to the ground (which was quite a feat, let me tell you). “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Later that night, I sent my resignation to my boss, saying that I had found a better job. I then formally accepted the job to be personal assistant to My Chemical Romance. Once I got all those things in order, I went shopping. If I was to stay with them permanently, I would need clothing. I would worry about my stuff and apartment in New York later.
I went shopping with Gerard the next morning, who claimed he knew where to get all the best stuff, and when we arrived at the mall, it was almost a mob scene. “OHMIGOD, IT’S GERARD WAY!” We heard a shriek come from just inside the entrance of the mall. Crowds of fan g.irls (and boys) formed a pack and began to circle around us. I turned to Gerard and said, “Run!” We turned around and high-tailed it out of there as quick as we could. We didn’t get the slightest opportunity to shop. Sitting in the car, breathing hard from running so fast, we tried to formulate a plan. I needed clothing, and Gerard knew exactly where to go. I suggested he wear sunglasses, but he shot that down, saying that the fans were so obsessed that they would recognize him anyway. We then decided that he would wear a hoodie and sunglasses, that that might reduce the risk of people noticing him. It worked. Of course, he had to keep his head down a lot, and not talk to anyone, but we found some awesome outfits that I bought with the remaining cash I had from my old job.
That night, they had a concert, and it was the first time that I would have to display my abilities as personal assistant. I wore one of the outfits that Gerard had specifically picked out for me. It was basically a more feminine version of the costumes they were wearing. It was a black silk shirt (opened low, as specified by Gerard), with a red tie. There was a short black skirt with neutral hose and black silk high-heeled shoes to “show off those legs,” as he put it. If the band eventually didn’t work out, Gee could’ve been a fashion designer. I would buy his clothes.
We arrived at the venue about six hours before the show. (It started at eight, we got there at two.) The band had to practice and rehearse while I ran around, trying to make sure everything ran smoothly. At one point I went into the arena area where they were going to be playing, and I found them playing kickball. “I cannot BELIEVE that you guys are playing kickball…” Frank rushed up to me, looking worried. “Gwen, we were just taking a break, and we swear we’ll get back to work” I cut him off. “…Without inviting me to play! Seriously, that was rather inconsiderate.” I winked and gave him a nudge. Frank flashed a mischievous grin. “Let’s play ball!” There were yells of encouragement from the band, and catcalls from the set-up crew. I took off my shoes and put my hair back into a ponytail. Bob was pitching, and when he rolled the ball to me, I kicked it so hard that it landed in the seats. There were shouts of joy from my team and exclamations of “Holy s.hit…” from the opposing team.

We played for an hour or so, until I finally told them to get back to work. I put my shoes back on, picked up my clipboard, and went to see the owner of the arena. I had to make sure that the band would get an acceptable dressing room, food, and access to the showers (because they would need it, believe you me).
By the end of the day, I was proud of myself. I had fully and completely organized their performance that night. I looked at everything from the lighting they would use to the sound of the amps. I even tuned Mikey’s, Ray’s, and Frank’s guitars. I tested the mike. The only thing I didn’t do was test the drums; only because I didn’t know how.
I even, when the time came, put makeup on the boys. I didn’t trust the makeup lady there; she seemed as though she didn’t care, and I knew she would do a crappy job. I had some trouble with Gerard, though. “Gee, don’t make your eye go all squinty.” I was putting eyeliner on him. “I can’t help it!” “Well try looking up.” He looked up, but his eye squinted again. “Gerard!” “What?! It’ll go squinty no matter what. Get used to it.” The rest of the guys made an “oooooo” sound, as if saying, ‘she’s gonna kiiiiill yooooou.’ I sighed, and held his eye open. I eventually got his eyeliner on and went to do the more dramatic make-up. On Gerard, I put lines of black stuff all over his face, to make it seem as though he was covered in scars. On Frank, I put criss-crosses over his eyes, and, with his consent, dyed half of his hair black and half of it platinum blond. On Ray, I made his face extremely white and put deep red scar marks on the sides of his face. Mikey would only let me style his hair, and Bob would only let me make his face somewhat pale. “Oh come on, Bob,” I said, exasperated. “Let me do something creative.” “No, I don’t want anything like that.” “Fine,” I sighed, and packed up my supplies.
About 20 minutes before they were on, I gave them all a pep talk. “Okay guys,” I said as we formed a huddle. “I know that all of you are gonna do great, even though you’re kind of nervous. Just remember that you kick a.ss, and you will perform kick-a.ssingly. I know that isn’t a word, Mikey,” I added as he opened his mouth. He shut it again, grinning. “Oh, and one more thing. I have been in the audience before, and so I have the advantage of knowing what they think. These people will think you did wonderfully even if your show sucked, so no worries.” They all grinned. Before they went out, I made sure they were all wearing earplugs, and we waited for the stage manager to give them the -up to go out. He nodded, and I pushed them out on stage, behind the first curtain. The house lights went dim, and people started screaming in excitement.
When everyone got quiet, Ray started playing the intro to ‘Give ‘Em H.ell, Kid.’ The front curtain dropped, and stage people got it quickly off stage so the band could jump around and be their crazy selves. The place absolutely exploded. The energy of the audience and the band just absolutely electrified the atmosphere. I jumped up and down and screamed like a thirteen-year-old. Halfway through the show, I started dancing with the stage manager.

“Thank you and goodnight!” Gerard yelled as they finished on Hang ‘Em High. The audience gave a deafening cheer, and the boys walked off stage. “Guys, you were awesome!” I yelled, hugging each of them in turn. They were all exhausted (they stank, too), so I had them go and take hot showers while I made sure the roadies were cleaning up properly. I was sure that I was a pain in the a** to everybody, but I wasn’t there to make friends; I was there to make sure everything went smoothly.

Thank you! Here's another one. It's not as long, but whatever.

After I had finished watching over the shoulders of the roadies and everyone associated with them, I went backstage to see if the boys were out of the showers yet. When I was sure the coast was clear, I stripped down and hopped in the shower. About fifteen minutes into my shower, the curtain was ripped aside. “Eek! Gerard! What the h.ell are you doing? I’m showering, for God’s sake!” “Gwen, you know that I know that you always shower in a bathing suit when you’re on tour with us.” This was true. I mean, I trusted the guys, but they were guys. I didn’t want to risk them seeing something that I would have to rip their eyeballs out for. “Well what do you want?” “We want you to listen to a song we’re working on. Come on!” He grabbed my hand and pulled me straight out of the shower. I had just enough time to grab a towel before we were quickly walking down the hall to their dressing room. As we walked in the room, everybody stared at me. Bob dropped his drumsticks, and Mikey ran into a wall. I quickly wrapped the towel securely around me, embarrassed. “Well,” I said, to get their attention off me, “Let’s hear this song you’re working on.” I pulled up a chair and sat down, making sure the towel was between me and the seat. They started playing as soon as they got out of their initial shock. The song they were playing sounded a lot like Yellow, by Coldplay. It was really good. I clapped when they finished. “You guys! That is awesome! Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I got up. “I’m going to go get dressed.” They all made sounds of disappointment, and I shot them a look over my shoulder that shut them up. As I walked out of the room, I heard Frank yell after me, “Nice b.ikini!” I giggled quietly to myself. “Oh by the way,” I said, sticking my head back into the room. They all looked up. “It smells like s.hit in there.” I grinned and resumed walking down the hall. “But it’s not us!” Gerard yelled after me. My grin grew wider.

I'm not going to post for a while (but it won't be longer than a month or so, I promise!), so I made this one special-long (you know how short my posts are).

The next day, they all insisted on taking me out to dinner, and wouldn’t hear of me paying. So, that night, I put on my best dress, and we went to a semi-fancy restaurant. We were all having a good time, until I noticed a couple of nineteen-year olds looking at me and snickering. I glared at them so intensely that I didn’t realize that the table had gone silent. “Gwen?” Mikey gently shook me shoulder. “Those two bimbos are laughing at me.” Mikey and Gerard instantly froze. The others just stared confusedly. “What’s going on?” asked Ray. “Well,” began Gerard. “ Gwen has a…thing about people laughing at her. You know how we were picked on as teenagers. Well, that rather left a permanent scar on her. Whenever someone even looks like they’re laughing at her, she either breaks down and starts crying, or she goes into a tremendous rage. From the look on her face, I’d say it’s a tremendous rage.” My face suddenly snapped into an evil smile. I started chuckling. “Uh-oh…” “What does that mean?” asked Bob. “That,” answered Mikey, “Means that she’s formulated a plan, and chances are, it’s not very good-natured.” I suddenly stood up. “I have to go to the bathroom.” I announced, and walked away. Once in the bathroom, I waited for what I knew would happen. And sure enough, when I came out of the stall, the two bimbos were there. My plan was simple; lead them in the bathroom so they could confront me and tell me what they really thought of me. Then I would know whether to kick their a.sses or not.
“So,” said bimbo number one, “you know the guys of MCR?” I played it cool as I washed my hands. “Yes.” “How?” asked bimbo number two. “Oh, I met them a while ago.” “I doubt that.” I looked up in disbelief. “Do you?” “Yeah. Because number one, you are not very pretty. And number two, you’re most likely a pathetic fan on whom they’ve taken pity and taken out to dinner to make you fell special.” I could not believe what I was hearing. I turned off the sink. “Number one,” I said, my temper rising. “Beauty has nothing to do with friendship. You two should know about that.” They gasped in shock. “And number two, there is no such thing as a pathetic MCR fan. They are the best fans in the world; not one of them is pathetic. They eat stupid b.itches like you for breakfast.” And with that, I flicked water on them and stalked out of the bathroom.
As I sat back down at the table, the guys stared at me. “What?” I asked. “Well, it’s just that you seem…satisfied with whatever evil acts you committed.” Answered Frank. “Oh believe me,” I said, grinning evilly, “the fun’s just beginning.” The two bimbos then walked out of the bathroom and sat back down at their table, still smirking at me. “3…2…1. Oh Gerard!” I said, flinging my arms around him. “I’m so glad I’m your g.irlfriend. Just play along.” I whispered this last part in his ear. Gerard, who had frozen, relaxed, suddenly understanding. “Oh Gwen,” he said, hugging me back. “I’m so lucky to be your boyfriend. How did you get to be so wonderful?” “Right back atcha, stud.” And we kissed. I could see out of the corner of my eye that the bimbos’ mouths had hit the floor. To make them jealous, I amped up the heat a little bit, and Gerard and I went into a mini-makeout session. Let me just take this moment to say; kissing Gerard Way is not a horrifying experience. I wondered how he got to be such a good kisser. After a minute or so, the bimbos left the restaurant in a huff. Gerard and I broke apart, and the table burst into laughter. “That was amazing!” exclaimed Frank. “That was probably the best and quickest executed revenge plot I’ve ever seen.” “Well what can I say?” I said, grinning. “I’m a quick thinker.”

Note: Gerard and Gwen do not, I repeat, do NOT have a romantic attraction for one another. Gwen just did that for her little revenge plot. Like I said at the beginning, this isn't a romance. I'm terrible at writing romances.

gosh i love your story so much! but it would be awesome if they did start liking each other. I'm not saying it would be better or anything...i'm just saying...now i feel mean crying

Aww, don't be so hard on yourself.

When's the next update gonna be?