A/N: I fucking adore Danger Days. Like, so much. I have my own opinions about the actual plot of it, and think that, for example, Grace is an example for all us fans/kids, and the band is trying to protect all of us, but this is all based in universe, if you will. my facts may be off, as alot of fanfiction shit often is, and I've never written anything like this before, so bear with me. Real people are fucking hard to write, seriously. there will be no 'pairings' in here, no slashing. Just so you know. :D I hope you enjoy. I know the guidelines say no real people, but since these aren't really My Chemical Romance, they're the Killjoys, I consider it more comic/movie. I hope it's okay. :I

These are all just short drabbles, written with the song as my iPod plays.


There weren't many Killjoys left. Hell, there weren't many to begin with. Sacrifices had to made, and made they were. They were lucky to have a few younger members who played off as a simple teenager rebellion, spreading information through text messages and poorly spelled, lopsided graffiti spread on huge walls.

But they were caught. They were punished. And the phone towers were shut down. Walls were painted with cheap, bleaching white-wash, until all the signs of life were washed away.

Their fabulous killjoys were drudging through shiny hallways and taking chalky pills and watching oh-so-hypnotizing, oh-so-false advertisements and even shoddily animated kids shows had blaringly obvious subliminal messages, a cheery BL/ind smiley in the corners, more mocking and patronizing than goddamn Clippy-

(not than anyone remembered him, anyway, too concerned with not being burned as a blasphemer by Mother Nature herself, or having their organs disintegrated to disgustingly colored soup by lazer blasters to remember unhelpful Word mascots)

-but, they had tried. Thought that counts, and other such pleasantries. And the rest of them would keep trying, until there wasn't a single one left.