extemporally | (no subject)

Everyone's moving to California, write about it! Multi-band parties! Pete throws a post-Valentines party! ...Idk. ;)

Oh man, I'm such a lameass that I know someone (I really mean RYAN ROSS) moved to LA, but I'm so confused about the rest! Like, are Spencer and Brendon just visiting or moving for real? Why is the world suddenly writing OT3 domesticity fic about them? IDGI! Please, explain the world to me?

Although yes, there should be more fic about that!

Apparently Ryan&Spencer were staying at Brendon's in LA [I think, pretty sure Cali], I guess he moved there, but we didn't know until Ryan blogged recently. Ryan recently moved to Cali. I dunno what's happening with Spencer, though I think he still lives in Vegas.

Pate&Patrick are in LA too, as are Gerard&Bob.

:D

Oh wow, okay that is AWESOME. Now I have fic(let) ideas! Thank you!

(Although, Spencer Smith, why so alone?)

Ikr?!

I like to think that he can't stay that far away from Ryan, so he will moving soon too. ;D

The worst thing about Ryan moving to LA, Spencer thought, wasn't the fact that he wouldn't be around as much. No, that was a bonus. It was the fact that Spencer had to help Ryan move, and Ryan had a metric fuckton of stuff lying around.

"Goddamnit, Ryan, how many boxes of scarves do you have?" Spencer called irritably, twisting his head around to stare at Ryan in the room. The box was really heavy.

Ryan looked shifty. "They aren't all scarves!" He protested.

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "It says SCARVES here right on the side in Sharpie."

Ryan waved his hand vaguely - "Times change, whatever," and returned to filling out a house moving form. Spencer watched him scratch his head idly with his pen, and rolled his eyes.

When he came back from loading the truck Spencer said, "I hate you, and I'm never helping you move again."

"Shut up," Ryan said absently, "You'll miss my face all the time, I told you, you should just move to LA - what's my social security number again?"

"What?" he said defensively, when he looked up to see Spencer staring at him, incredulous. "I just forgot momentarily! I remember it now, it's nine three seven eight five four -"

"No, it's not," Spencer interrupted him. "It's nine three seven eight two four three six zero seven."

There was a pause, during which Ryan stared at Spencer blankly, before saying, "Oh. Oh, yeah." and dived down into his form again.

"That's it," Spencer said, "I think I'm moving to LA, there's no way you're going to survive on your own."

Ryan flipped him off without looking up, and said, "It's just because you miss me, don't lie, dorkface" but five minutes later he said, "Do you really mean it?" and sounded pleased.

<33333333333333 ryan/spencer is LOVE

♥_♥

This is so precious! Oh, boys!

:D

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YOUR LOVE FOR THEM IS WHY ILU.

The night before Butcher was due to leave for the army base, Sisky's mother held a big dinner for him, underneath the stars, and everyone drank to Butcher at the table. They insisted on seeing Butcher in his army uniform, and some of the women cooed at him when he came out dressed in his fatigues, thinking of the husbands and brothers they had, already at war. Butcher ducked his head, a little, and felt shy. His uniform felt as though it was weighing him down.

He slipped away in the middle, when everyone was toasting everyone else, and saw Sisky sitting on the steps.

"Hey," Butcher said softly, sitting down next to him. Sisky didn't look at him, but seemed to curl around him unconsciously, as though he were grateful for the heat of another body.

Sisky looked toward the sky, where the stars were clear. "Hi," he said, quietly. He'd been semi-ignoring Butcher all week, in the sense that he replied to him when he was spoken to but mostly just kept out of his way, and Butcher hadn't thought much of it, in the midst of his preparations. He missed Sisky already.

"You'll write to me?" Butcher hope he didn't sound too hopeful, and the question seemed to swim and float around them, under the clear, cold night.

Sisky shrugged, and Butcher was reminded of how young he was. "Yeah, okay," he said, and somehow it seemed like more of a question than his own had.

After a pause, Sisky said, "I wish I could go away to war too."

When Butcher looked at him sideways Sisky coloured, and protested, "I mean - I just wish I could do something, I hate being young and having to wait, I could do it too -"

Butcher laid a hand on his wrist and said, "I know." Sisky seemed to quieten, then said, "I hope you come back safe."

Butcher gave a half-laugh, almost a moan, and said, "I hope so too."

They sat quietly together on the steps, drinking in the steady, muted roar of the table a couple of feet away. Butcher hadn't let go of Sisky's hand, and Sisky didn't seem inclined to move.

I should get back, Butcher thought, but didn't feel inclined to spoil the moment. Sisky turned to Butcher and leaned in to kiss him, and Butcher took a shocked moment to react - Sisky was kissing him! - before sliding a hand around his jaw and tugging him even closer, and kissing back.

It was a sweet kiss, slow and unhurried, and Butcher's other hand moved down to rub Sisky's back. At first Sisky kissed like he had something to prove, but he became more relaxed as both of them adjusted against each other.

Finally, they drew back, and although Sisky was blushing he looked at Butcher evenly.

"I'll be waiting," he said, and blushed even more furiously. Butcher smiled back - he knew they must have both looked foolish - and said, "Sure," before finally releasing Sisky's wrist, to lace their fingers together.

laugh,don't laugh

panic in an anime world

YAY!

Okay I AM NOT LAUGHING REALLY.

That's a pretty awesome prompt though, be prepared for crackiness!

"What the fuck, where are we?" Spencer says, arms folded. One moment you're watching cable in a hotel, right, and the next you're getting... this sounds ridiculous, but - sucked into the television screen? That's the only explanation Spencer can think of, seriously.

Brendon tries to speak, and bubbles come out of his mouth. They all look like... anime characters, and Brendon's normally wide eyes now take up maybe half of his face. It's oddly disturbing.

Jon tells Brendon, "You look like you're an extra on the Powerpuff Girls," and Brendon says, "Dude! Dude, I want to be Buttercup. She was kickass" and from there they devolve into a really retarded karaoke session of the Powerpuff Girls theme song, and the shrill, tinny quality of their anime-world voices is starting to give Spencer a headache.

Ignoring them, Ryan's like, "Huh, wow. I had a dream like this once. Maybe we should just flow with it?" and starts to wander off.

Spencer grabs him by the kerchief and says, "No! Not until we know what we've gotten ourselves into."

Jon stops singing and says, "Well, if we don't move we won't know anything, right?" and Spencer's forced to admit he's right. Brendon looks positively gleeful, though, and starts bouncing on the balls of his heels, springing at least six inches into the air each time.

Just then, Pete runs into view and says, "Oh, Panic! Here you are at last!" offering them a manic grin that's even more donkey-like when it's rendered in cartoon. Brendon and Jon start crowding around Pete, demanding an explanation, and an exaggeratedly large sweat drop falls from Pete's forehead.

"What the fuck," Spencer says, feeling a full-force migraine come on for real. It makes his eyes literally pop out their sockets, but thankfully - thankfully! - his eyeballs don't actually fall out. Because apparently it isn't that kind of television show. "Just figures that Pete Wentz had to be involved in this somehow."

Ryan doesn't say anything, but he's looking at Pete with literal hearts in his eyes, which if anything makes Spencer's head hurt a little more. Stupid Ryan, being so stupidly obvious. He never looks at Spencer like that.

OHHHHHH

I LOVE THIS!

like heart this 50000 times!

I know I should kick your arse over the

bandombigbang slackness, but if you are writing original, I'm not sure I can. Let me settle for a scowly face *scowls*

Now. If you're writing original, go and check out

phoenixtearsorg. They are always looking for new writers, and you can get published in an anthology, the profits of which go to charity. The editors are amazingly wonderful and so helpful. It's brilliant.

Your scowly face is terrifying! Augh, I should be getting *some* stuff written over the weekend... sort of... I mean... *digs self into deeper hole*

Cool, that's really interesting. Thanks!

Dude, my scowly face has magical properties. Dragons everywhere are jealous of it.

I hope you will check out the Tears of the Phoenix Anthologies. I have had stuff published and accepted for publication with them, and they are made of awesome. They accept poetry, drabbles, flash fiction (500 - 1000 words is their range) and short stories based on prompts around a theme.

lol my bbb fails, it was such a KICK ASS idea as well, dammit Janet! Whats it about again? I will give you prompts but I can't remember what is was about 0.0

What's your bbb about? Mine's girl!Ryan/girl!Spencer and SUMMER. (That's pretty much it, I fail at summaries and plot.)

KICKASS is always good though!

mine is a Ryan/Spencer, it's called 'my life without you'

Ryan is doing his masters at college and is asked to write his final piece as an autobiographical like piece after his professor looked over several pieces of work he'd written back in his first year when they were asked to write short stories about their childhoods.

Spencer works at the local coffee shop with Jon, and is studying to be an account whilst also making the worlds best cupcakes on the side. Brendon who is Spencer's best friend does part tune college to go to beauty school at night but somehow still spends most of his time with Spencer and Jon when he's around.

See Spencer and Ryan knew each other breifly when they were kids but Ryan never hit golf balls into Spencer's backyard and that spark didn't happen that ended up with them being friends. So Spencer's sort of always been around Ryan's just been really bad a noticing until one day Spencer comes over to him while he's tapping his pen against the page of his note book trying to get something down for his final piece. The problem is that he seems totally unable to write anymore. Everything he does put down isn't the kind of thing that he would want to see on paper. None of his memories are all that great and writing the great American novel on how shit his life had been really wasn't Ryan's idea of a good read.

Anyway Spencer has always noticed Ryan, only recently Ryan's just been glaring unhappily at things, never writing on his laptop when Spencer spots him at the library they both go to to study, out on the grounds and at the cafe he just sits there with his pen and hand and writes nothing. So Spencer goes up to say hey, ask what's up.

and yeah, they're both missing something because they've never been friends and it's sort of a story explaining how they find what they're missing inside of each other and Ryan begins to write the story but not just his own, he mixes in Jon's and Brenon's and Spencer's until it's something he's really proud of.

and yeah... I ramble apologies

Oh man, I keep forgetting to reply to comments - total fail, sorry. But that sounds awesome! Ryan and Spencer never meeting, and just floating around the edges of each others' consciousness... wow. I can't wait to read it, honestly. And

Ryan begins to write the story but not just his own, he mixes in Jon's and Brenon's and Spencer's until it's something he's really proud of.

really touched me, Idk. Please say you're writing a scene where they ALL go out to dinner together for the first time and get to know each other in the context of each other, and share random stories and feel like the others understand! *is sucker for schmoop*

Um, a prompt, since you're still apparently wanting some...

Spencer/Butcher/Sisky. Spencer has a thing for Butcher's tattoos, and Sisky figures that out.

That's a fantastic prompt, and it's giving me ideas already. Thanks!

Since I gave it to you, I have had at least three inappropriate thoughts about where it might go. I'm glad you're going to run with it.

It really happens the first time they tour together. It's pretty strange, actually - TAI's music, as William is so fond of declaring, is nothing like Panic's - and Ryan Ross and his gang of pretty boys are so, so, different from what The Academy's used to.

It gets pretty tense, too, when they start outselling the Academy, and even though none of them would blame Panic for them, William's mouth goes hard sometimes the way it does when he's been thinking about things too much. Like it does the day they play a smaller show and Pete suggests they open for Panic instead.

So, yeah, that's pretty much why Sisky didn't say anything when he noticed Spencer Smith, Pretty Not-Girl Drummer, looking at Butcher.

How could he, anyway. Back then Butcher wasn't exactly his, or anything. Even if he wanted him to be.

So it's the second time they're touring together - so many things have changed that it's like both of them are completely different bands from the last time - that Sisky sees Spencer Smith, Muscly Man Drummer, looking at Butcher's tattoos again, and, twining his arms around Butcher's waist, looks at Spencer appraisingly and thinks, maybe.

Summer tour is always grimy and sticky, the normal smells of tour - coffee, dandruff, adrenaline - exaggerated by the smell of three bands roasting and sweating under the sun together. At night, though, at night it's cool, even though it's probably because of the air-conditioning. One night when Sisky told everyone else to put on their earphones, he nudges Butcher in the ribs, gently, and rides him until Butcher's gasping and falling apart.

"I've seen him looking," Sisky whispers, when Butcher's near coming - Sisky can always tell, something about the way his pecs tighten, and now Sisky splays a hand on them gently and just moves, and Butcher lets out a keening sound that sounds like, "Sisky..."

"I've always known he was interested," Sisky continues, determined, pushing back against Butcher, giving as good as he gets. Butcher doesn't even pretend like he doesn't know what Sisky's talking about, just gasps harder. He sounds utterly strung out, the ink under his collarbones vivid even in the dark.

Sisky bends down, presses a soothing kiss to the corner of Butcher's mouth. Butcher's eyes are squeezed shut so tight, like he's suffering from an ecstasy of pain.

"Spencer Smith," Sisky whispers, hoping he gets it right, hoping he doesn't screw things up - "I like Spencer too, you know. He's got strong legs and arms and I've seen him drum shirtless, oh!" He can't tell if that last sound was because of the way Butcher is moving now, stronger and more insistent, finally, finally reciprocating.

"You'd look nice together," Sisky gasps, practically sobs, "So good." And then Butcher's yelling hoarsely, quietly, and Sisky comes too, before collapsing on Butcher's chest - the bird tattoos on his chest, god - sweaty and feeling a little prickly where the hairs on the back of his neck are nothing but little prickles.

They like in the bunk a little while, quietly replete, before Butcher says, sounding scratchy and a little raw, "Did you really mean it?"

Sisky releases a little breath, and watches the space above his face as though he's expecting to see it spiral into the darkness. It's strange, the way he feels shyer about it when they're not fucking, even though he knows Butcher wants.

"Yeah," he says. "I think it would be hot."

There's still an edge of a pause, like Butcher's afraid to claim it, properly. Sisky trails his hand across the half an inch of space between them, savouring the feel of the worn sheets, and reaches for Butcher's hand. He squeezes it, and that seems to make Butcher relax, a little.

"Yeah," Butcher replies, finally, a little choked. "So hot."

From the way Butcher reaches over with his other hand, awkwardly, to stroke Sisky's jaw and the beginning of stubble there, Sisky can tell he's not just talking about fucking Spencer Smith.

*fans self* just what I needed to wake up to in the morning! Hot, and just a little complicated - and complicated is good. I liked how Sisky finds it easier to say things when they are fucking. Gorgeous.

Oooh, I love prompts.

Okay, um. Tomrad and Jon being friends? And huge dorks who like taking arty pictures of, like, candy wrappers or something. :D

Oh. Oh, man. That is such an awesome prompt. I'll get back to you soon! (Or maybe not soon, because I'm a failboat at things like that, but then it'll be there when you least expect it and then it'll be surprise! :D?)

"What's that?" Jon says, making a confused little face. He's staring at the screen of Tom's camera, looking at the picture he'd taken last.

Tom shuffles a little closer to him, and even from under four layers of clothes Jon can feel his body heat, along with the faint scent of Tomrad - one-third hot chocolate, one-third dodgy medicinal oil and one-third skanky hobo tour smell. Despite the fact that they're not actually on tour, of course.

"It's a sweet wrapper." Tom points out, deadpan. "On a pavement."

"Yeah, I -" Jon bites his lip, to stop the why the fuck would you want to take a photo of that from spilling out. It's really damn shitty, as photos go, and this is even more of a shock because Tommy's photos are usually so good.

Jon catches Tom tensing, and turns around to catch him biting his lip, before collapsing into a shudder, his body wracked by spasms. "Oh my god," Jon says, "You little fucker. I didn't fall for that!"

Tom's practically crying with laughter, pressed against Jon for support on the icy Chicago street. "You thought -" he gasps out, in between his laughter, "you totally fell for that, you thought I was serious, oh my god, don't deny it -"

Jon stuck his hands into his pockets after thrusting Tom's camera at Tom's chest, who accepted it, still giggling helplessly, and said, "I did not," but Tom wasn't fooled, and who could blame him?

By now Tom had subsided after five minutes of straight-on, helpless laughter, and clutched his camera to his chest and said, "You thought I was Ryan Ross -", still chuckling intermittently.

"If we weren't on an icy street now and you weren't holding your very expensive camera I'd totally push you now, for shit-talking my bandmate," Jon says, voice perfectly serious, and it's only from the droll expression on his face that Tom can tell that Jon knows he made a perfectly valid statement anyway.

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here, have some domestic moving fic

Re: here, have some domestic moving fic

Re: here, have some domestic moving fic

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revolution is eluding me, have some WWII instead

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wow, over a month late, ahahahaha

Re: wow, over a month late, ahahahaha

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