skoosiepants: (Bob is badass)
A Handholding Song | PG-13 | 15,000+
Joe/Bob, Brendon/Spencer, Frank/Gerard (with background William/Gabe, implied Jon/Ryan & blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Butcher/Siska)

“I’m gonna write a song about you,” Joe says. “It’ll be a handholding song, I hope you don’t mind if I make you a girl.”

A/N: THE HOBO JOE AU! It’s finished! And it's, like, an uber schmoopy meet-cute, but whatever. So many thanks to [livejournal.com profile] insunshine for beta’ing this – I’ve recently realized that I phrase things in epically weird ways, and some of it is just my style, but most of it is just stupid, and she totally calls me on it every time. And! TNBC was real, as was Hang Time, and those were my Saturday mornings for years (years spent in college and beyond! Real-life careers require California Dreams and City Guys, is all I’m saying).

A Handholding Song )
skoosiepants: (Bob - he can fix unicorns)
basically, this has turned into another everybody's gay meet-cute like the apartment AU, only with a slightly less interesting plot. soon to be finished, I have FAITH:

“Why so fucking glum, dude,” Frank says, dropping down onto the steps next to Joe.

Joe’s frowning, playing Fucked Up Love Song already, the one he wrote about Hurley and Mixon and their weirdly intricate heterosexual lifemate status.

Joe shakes his head. “Just found out I’m a family sort of man,” he says. “Fucks with your world view, you know?”

“Shit,” Frank says.

Joe closes his eyes, rubs a hand over his forehead. “I might need to get a fucking job, Frankie, how is this my life?”

Frank blinks at Joe, mind fucking boggled. As far as Frank knows, and Frank knows a lot, Joe hasn’t held a steady tax-paying job since 2001. He’d dropped out of college, quit his internship, and headed for the streets. Frank’s always sort of admired his gumption.

“Dude,” Frank says forlornly, clasping Joe’s shoulder. It’s a sad, sad day when Joe has to go and, like, fucking assimilate. “Are you sure?”

Joe hums a few bars of Let's Get Nasty, Except For Bill, then thumps the flat of his hand against the strings. “He’s got a kid, a steady income, an ex-wife—”

“Huh.” Figures a security guard would be fucking responsible, right.

Joe points at him. “I don’t even have a bank account.”

Frank nods, pushes up the arms of his sweater and leans his elbows on his knees. Frank doesn’t have a bank account either, because it’s too easy for people to, like, fucking steal your identity or whatever. Frank deals with cold hard cash, so The Man can’t keep tabs on his life. Frank’s a free spirit. Frank jams out with Joe at 201 or stakes out his own turf by the fountain down in the park, and pulls in enough coinage to get him coffee, smokes and a couch – although it’s actually only a couch cushion, Hurley claims, but whatever, he shares it with Bill.
skoosiepants: (Bob is badass)
I feel helpless without my TwitterFox here at work, how pathetic is that???

Omg, I can't believe I'm going to be THIRTY-TWO tomorrow, I'm pathetic AND OLD.

ALSO, I can't believe next week is the Fall Out Boy concert!!!! I've taken off Thursday and Friday to properly prepare myself. Because I am old. I may need lots and lots of coffee.

There’s a low hum of music in the background, nothing overpowering, as Joe makes his way down the buffet table. Finally, he packs a plate full of extras and makes his way over to a wall, in between a giant painting of a craggy old man and one depicting some Hell battle with awesome blood splatters and skeleton beasts and shit.

It’s there where Bob finds him.

Joe’s got a buffalo wing between his teeth when his light’s blocked by Bob’s hulking frame, and while his body buzzes with silent appreciation – Joe had been right about the lip ring, and Bob’s hair is angled across his face and the sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up to his elbows, exposing really fantastic forearms and thick wrists – he recognizes Bob’s expression. Bob is seconds away from escorting him not-so-politely from the building.

“Not sure you have authority here, dude,” Joe says, and, seriously, if Joe were really a hobo, how the fuck does Bob think he got into The Basement? Security isn’t exactly lax.

Bob looks like he wants to argue, though. He says, “Joe,” and rubs a hand over his forehead, like Joe’s mere presence in his life is so fucking tiring.

“Relax, man, I was invited,” Joe says, which is not specifically true, but close enough. “You’re not working, I’m not working—”

“You don’t work, Joe,” Bob says, and hey, a full sentence, awesome.

Joe grins up at him. “You say that because you haven’t heard me play, dude. I’ve got an awesome repertoire. I’ve got groupies,” Joe says. “And, like, special guest stars, you should totally come jam with me one day.”

Bob’s scowling, but Joe can totally tell he’s smiling on the inside. His eyes aren’t nearly so rage-filled, for one.
skoosiepants: (Gerard Way and his pretty eyes)
Dudes, IDEK, I'm so behind on answering comments/reviews!! I promise to get to them soon, I've just been super busy and away from my comp and reading the fast and the furious slash - which is so amazingly good, why haven't I read that before? - and writing Hobo Joe and plotting out more Kevin/Mike in my head - high school AU! YES! Kevin is the homeschooled dude who transfers in Junior year because his brother Joe is a douche who wants to be an actual freshman and his parents are, like, adamant that they BOTH go, WHATEVER, and Mike is in some sort of, I don't know, Nirvana tribute band or something? THEY MEET. MAGIC HAPPENS. AND OTHER STUFF.

Um. Where was I? Mmmmmm, Vin Diesel *drools*

Uh.... Hobo Joe AU snippet? I'm writing it like the Apartment AU. Ben is Gerard's bird.

The front woman of Greyskull is a tiny blonde with kick-ass legs and an accent that emphasizes the simple lyrics just different enough to make them interesting.

Frank’s really not paying them much attention, though, because Gerard’s painted a fucking amazing picture of a zombie shih tzu. It’s freaky as hell, and pretty much the best thing Frank’s ever seen.

“I really like how you exposed the bone here,” Frank says, pointing at the puppy’s chest. “Like you can almost see a piece of his heart.”

Gerard nods, grinning this huge-ass grin that kind of makes Frank’s breath catch. “Someone loved him once,” Gerard says, and Frank grins back at him until he realizes he’s just, like, grinning at Gerard like a great big, creepy shithead, and a flush starts up from his neck.

“Um. Where’s Ben?” he asks.

“Home,” Gerard says. “Last time I brought him to one of these things, he shit all over the buffet and made Brian bleed. From his eyes.”

“Sounds awesome.”

“Totally,” Gerard says, and then it gets awkward, because Frank has this crazy, insane urge to maybe tackle Gerard into a dark nook and lick his face off, but Gerard has a girlfriend. It totally sucks.
skoosiepants: (alf!frank)
I'm an enormous waste of space these days, but there are two new mixes up over at [livejournal.com profile] muse_to_match. A soundtrack and then something else entirely.

Oh my god, seriously, I don't know what's going on in my brain lately. I would like to feast on pizza and snickers bars please and thank you.

“I’m gonna marry Bob and have all his babies,” Joe says, slumping down further into the sofa.

Frank giggles.

“Fabulous,” Bill says from beside him. And then, “Who’s Bob?”

“My future husband,” Joe says, and then Bill uncrosses his legs and Butcher groans and leans out of his armchair to slap at his knees and say, “Fuck’s sake, Bills,” because everyone knows Bill never wears any underwear with his fucking skirts, since he says his boxers bunch and briefs are just unmanly, never mind the fact that wearing a skirt makes him sort of a girl anyway.

Bill calls them kilts, but they’re really just pleated uniform skirts that Butcher’s sister tossed after graduation.
skoosiepants: (Bob is badass)
the joe as a busker, office building au, thingy...

joe = "hobo joe" the busker
bob = smoking hot security guy
brendon = lobby barista who gives joe muffins
spencer = reception
ryan = spencer's lunch buddy
frank = joe's roommate/fellow busker/partner-in-weed growing
gerard = bird dude who paints in the park
patrick = argyle dude who works upstairs and shares his lunch with joe
pete = is around
andy = joe's other roommate who walks around shirtless with the butcher
the butcher = joe's other other roommate who lets Joe sleep on his floor
ray = the fixer of all things wrong
mikey = the fixer's sidekick
gabe = no one knows where he comes from or where he goes
bill = is on a fresca kick and owns entirely too many skirts

tell me hobo joe is not the funniest thing ever

And Joe showers daily, thanks very much. Or, like, every other day. He tends to forget to brush his hair, though; it’s kind of out of control, but Joe likes how it’s enormous and flattering to his nose.

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