This is a My Chemical Romance fanfiction, set in the Dustverse (Killjoy universe) with entirely original characters. I'll be updating as I go along. I'm putting it here instead of a fanfic website because it's more original than just a slash fic, I guess. Features my own Killjoys doing their own shit. Marked yellow for swearing, homophobia, violence, etc. Enjoy it!


1. Here's your background.

I know that people hate original characters in fanfics - especially fanfics that don't even have the actual characters in them! I only wrote this as a way to work on my writing prowess, as it were. Placing my own creations in a fascinating universe that already exists is not only fun, but lazier and a more inspired writing process for me. I also get to put my own spin on things - so it's not as much fanfiction as it is some of sort of monstrous eruption of Tank Girl and the Fabulous Killjoys in sync, fired by whatever's currently going on in my thoughts. Have a good time, and you might even enjoy it if you aren't emo garbage~




Laughing Ace runs this show, and no one's about to really do anything about that. She ain't the worst squad leader to run around these zones by a long shot. She's kinda insecure, but really damn well capable. Struggling with not having enough identity outside of the general Killjoy spirit. Ace's visual features a cool feminine sort of orange jacket, and a sleeveless shirt bearing the motto, "hollywood won't save you". 

Caffeine Crash would not have done badly in the Ultra V's. Resident jokester of this group, the motherfucker's got an obsession with flashy colors, an inability to settle on a gender identity, and an eccentric sense of humor. There aren't a lotta brains rolling around in that head, but they can erupt adrenaline and laughter out of any situation - useful out here in the static-heavy desert.

Suicide Static is one of the best in a fight, but that's not what he's known for. A quiet sense of contemplativeness and existentialism follows him everywhere. He's not great at living in the moment. Of course, this guy carries a gun, but he also totes a long pike on which he's tied several animal tails/ragged banners and spiked the occasional drac head. He brings the gory souvenirs everywhere, and the rest of the crew has long given up on talking him out of it. In terms of aesthetic - he's much an anime Winter Soldier.

Explicit Fiction is probably a background character, as we're not really sure what does. He and Rock Opera are lovers. Opera is a bit of an anxious freak, with a skinny frame, a style that was definitely at least half inspired by Green Day's American Idiot, an a lip-biting sense of having no idea what to do. He's alright, though, loved by most of the squad. Explicit is a loud, funny motherfucker, and he's usually found with his arm around someone, three days unshaven, and laughing loudly at his own joke.

Lady Cyanide is, in Explicit's words, "the best fuckin' shot a thousand miles short of Battery City! It's said that scarecrows don't even want to see that skull-patterned mask, that they'd run instead of taking her captive." That's a slight exaggeration. Despite that, she's got great fashion sense, and although sometimes she's a little confused as a person, she's...chill. She's the main one in the group that's got any kind of reputation - feared for her death-bringing abilities - and sometimes she lets herself get above her station, thinking that she's better than the others. She comes down to earth eventually. Cyanide's real eloquent, and has been featured as a dj upon occasion for her skill with words. 

Lastly we come to little Atty. Deuces. Far from being a law practitioner, they're rather the group's scout. Kinda freakily good at finding food in unfamiliar places, and given (usually stolen) materials, the rat can craft everyone in the group a new mask or jacket. Their reedy little voice occupies all the time on long desert treks when Explicit's booming voice isn't sounding out. Deuces and Explicit are totally the best of friends. At any time, Deuces is usually draped in borrowed scarves, a fitted white mock-navy coat, and overlarge goggles. 

The main thing about this crew is that...they haven't really done much. They're as capable as any, but haven't even named themselves. They've been criticized for 'keeping their noses clean' in terms of dracs and scarecrows, because they haven't done anything distinguishing (in other words, lost their lives doing something stupid and ineffective). They travel, see the sights, polish their rayguns, visit old friends, stay outta trouble, etc. Man, I love these guys.

Got all that? 


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