masterlist of things i've written, or at least, in the band-slash sense of things. um. i don't feel quite right doing one of these, it seems a bit pretentious to gather everything together before i've written, like, 57 fics, but here we are.

( onward, brave steed! oh, wait, you're not actually a unicorn, are you? )

dude, i haven't updated this shit in MONTHS. like anyone cares, w/e w/e

SO, there is about 50k collective in my documents folder of various WIPs. none of which i'll probably ever totally finish or post; thanks, ryan ross! idk, i'll still read bandom but writing it i'm pm burned out on. good thing i never did much of that in the first place, wouldn't want to let anyone down now AHA HA HA HA :|

anyways! merlin, torchwood (way to break my heart and make me loathe you even more, rusty, all in one fell swoop), and doctor who (reruns! YAYYYYYY RERUNS D:) all continue to be awesome and tempting. i'm also contemplating writing some firefly fic, maybe a razia's shadow future-fic, but i haven't had time for fanfiction much in the past...forever, really. never writing it. not reading it, in the past 6 months. no time for that, let alone for original fiction. life is a funny old thing.

this just in; I WANT ALL THE ALWAYSAGIRL FIC IN THE WORLD. THE WHOLE ENTIRE WOOOOORLD.

more specifically, rn i want alwaysagirl!brendon, where she has not gotten laid in approximately FOREVER and it is PISSING HER THE FUCK OFF. i'm thinking set 2007/2008. i mostly want this bc this is my own mindset lately, but i think it could work well with girl!brendon (and yes, i'd write her as named brendon. i've known girls named brendan, it's close enough). she wants sexytiemz so bad! but it's not like there's a lot of groupies that are boys, and the ones who are close enough to being groupies are more just skeevy starfucking douchebags, but w/e. she knows she could just use techs (as bad as that sounds), she's not exactly grotesque, but she knows it'd get her a bad rap on tour.

in a lot of ways, tour is like church - at least at temple, though, she wouldn't be criticized for keeping her legs closed as well as spreading them. she deals with it on her own, mostly, but sometimes it's just not good enough - she's professional, always has been, will never let herself loose that. there are a few nights backstage, though - when jon brushes against her, fresh out of the first shower all soap-fragrant with a threadbare towel slung low around his hips, or when ryan circles his longlonglong fingers around her wrist, dry and smooth, holding her back from the rush of techs and bands so he can step close and drag his thumbs beneath her eyes with knuckles faint against her cheekbones as he rubs away the post-show smears of eyeliner and glitter shadow - that the burn of sheer want sears slow through her veins to settle, smoldering, as a sulfurous sick weight high in her stomach, and it's difficult. holy run-on sentence batman

and then things happen, idk. THE IMPORTANT THING IS THAT THEY ALL END IN SEX. possibly lots of gsf smut, but whatever happens hot het sex will make an appearance (or twelve).

i think i'm going to abandon my current bbb. it just doesn't seem as fun to work on as it did when i started (ntm, i wasn't exactly getting along in wordcount on it). granted, nothing seemed fun when i started, but i'm back on the snris and thus getting back a lot of energy that i haven't had in so long that i've actually forgotten the last time i did have it - oh, idek, basically i'm going to restart my bbb as the high school musical au that i planned out in december.

the world could do with more sondheim, even if it's just in the form of bandom fic featuring Jon Walker the Stage Manager, Ryan Ross the Rather Unrelentingly Exasperated Assistant Director, Brendon Urie the Over-enthusiastic Tenor (in the role of Hero! c'mon, he's perfect), and Spencer Smith the Relatively Indifferent Pit Orchestra Percussionist. of course, i'm a good enough writer that they wouldn't just be caricatures like that, but i thought i'd sketch out the general picture :D

okay, so, addictedkitten brought up all these possibilities for canon fic based on the ryan/keltie thing, which, ehhh, BUT I AM EXCELLENT AT COMPARTMENTALIZATION SO NATURALLY I THOUGHT THIS WAS A MARVELOUS IDEA.

now i want epic, quietly angsty fic about how ryan has cheated on her already in the past (WHICH IS OBVIOUS TO ANYONE WHO HAS READ HER BLOG FOR LONGER THAN A MONTH), but he always goes back to her and she always takes him back, and he sometimes just thinks "i shouldn't do this, any of it, and i can't believe she's tolerant enough to take me back all the time, i'm a fucking idiot but she makes me happier than any of the others" BUT HE STILL IS AN ADULTEROUS WHORE.

things are okay, though, and they go along their merrily, on-and-off way, UNTIL - well, until SOMETHING happens after ryan moves to la (which means that things are already strained and wistful and shit), something involving brendon. ahaha i'm not sure yet on this bit, my brain just kind of filled in an outline like "ANGSTANGSTANGST, DETAILS I'LL MAKE UP LATER, MOAR ANGST, SEXSEXSEX" D:. BUT. it will involve a text message, maybe from a drunk brendon on accident, meant for either ryan or someone else (i haven't decided, yet, some kind of drunken confession over text seems too cliche and making it meant for someone else seems like a cop-out), and keltie finds it the next morning and it breaks one of their "rules" somehow (STILL MORE DETAILS I DON'T FEEL LIKE WORKING OUT AT FOUR IN THE MORNING WHEN I CAN'T FUCKING SLEEP).

and, well.

keltie goes back into the bedroom, and she looks down at their bed - rumpled, ivory sheets, and she knows from earlier that they smell of boysweat and sex and sunshine, and the fabric softener spencer's mom always gives ryan after they come off tour - and she wants nothing more than to toss ryan's phone on the nightstand, fit herself back around the sun-warmed curve of his body. but she can't - this is, this.

it's not that it's in and of itself too far, but it feels like the culmination of so many things, so many things she just ignored, that she was content to ignore, to sacrifice her awareness for happiness because that's just how they worked. but now, this is too much. it's all too much.

ryan shifts on the bed, scowls into his pillow, and for a second she thinks about lashing out, throwing the phone at the wall above the bed across for her, wiring and plastic shattering against the solid oak and plaster, but she feels drained, all of the sudden. old, as if the lines of the message across the screen had been etched into her skin, and instead of making a scene, she sinks into the sheets, legs folded under her, and waits for ryan to wake up.

. . .

IDK, I DIDN'T MEAN TO WRITE THAT FROM A KELTIE POV :( also, despite the lack of detail, IT STILL MANAGED TO SUCK BECAUSE IT'S FOUR IN THE MORNING. wait, no, five now! ANYWAYS. basically, blahblahblah break-up, blahblahblah OH SHIT THAT TEXT WASN'T SRS SON but ryan doesn't correct her because in his HEART OF HEARTS he sees those words, supposedly from brendon, and it triggers something in him to stop, and the thought of telling her it was all a mistake - doesn't even really occur to him, really.

um. then some more angst, and jwalk photography and canyon shenanigans (thank you ryan ross, for posting blog material just when i need it!), and sex. and sex and sex and sex om nom nom.

nommmmmmmmmm.

( and now for a greta/ryan songfic idea aka OMG WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN )


in other news, i am a horrible, self-indulgent person who will never back up my horrific ideas by good writing because i am a lazy, lazy child.

dude, so apparently (according to the county-thingy in my profile, at least) 105 people have visited my journal to date! but I've only had this since October, so actually, WHO THE HELL ARE ALL OF YOU

not that I'm complaining :*

LIVEJOURNAL, WHY DO YOU KEEP DELETING MY COMMENTS >:( I AM HIGHLY CONFUSED

narnia au outline now about 5,000 words long. i've added a few things to the plot of the source, such as a few ideas as to how to address the problem of four sons of adam rather than two sons of adam and two daughters of eve, because it seems rather a cheap cop-out to just ignore the issue altogether.

in the meantime, though, i need to get re-started on the brendon/greta mermaid fic for bandomficathon, and address a comment in the pledge post about why i chose TWLOHA over Hopeline as one of my charities - the comment was made about a week ago, but i was too bowled over by finals to have the time to reply.

at this rate, my BBB's going to be twice as long as the original 37,485 word book. if this happens, i will never quit laughing deliriously at what has become of my life.

I CAN NOT stop watching the video of Brendon recording his parts on 20 Dollar Nose Bleed. Especially the bits when he and Patrick are singing together, because, Jesus fuck. I've had a thing for piano players for years, but I'm beginning to realize I have the same soft spot for vocalists.

I'm really tempted to write something where voices turn Ryan on, too. Maybe it's just a subtle, slow build, where he begins to realize how fucking hot Brendon is when he's singing. I'd like to work something in there with Pavlovian associations, though - he jerks off to Fall Out Boy ONCE, okay, and it was when he was like, sixteen. But, you combine that with one drunken fuck back in the NRWC days and the way Brendon writhed against him, the way he sounded when he came, one low, torn cry that simultaneously sounded nothing and everything like the way he did when he sang, and Ryan's fucked. Brendon doesn't remember it, was too drunk at the time, fucking gone, but Ryan remembers. He remembers Brendon's eyes, blown dark from alcohol and lust, and sometimes, when he's alone in his bunk and trying to get himself off as quietly and quickly as possible, Ryan will let himself remember how that one pitched moan shuddered through his own chest.

Then, he's in Chicago, and Pete asks him to come over, listen to a few of the unmastered tracks from Folie, and he does; Ryan sits there, listens to Patrick's high, clear voice blending and weaving around Brendon's vocals. Brendon's voice is less refined than Patrick's, throatier, but it fits, it's raw, and when he and Patrick belt out Pete's words in unison, the sound rips through the layers of piano and horns to curl right around the base of Ryan's spine.

. . .

Excuse me, I need to go listen to some Mozart violin concertos, or Pachelbel, something with bad associations, because this video is making my ears a little too happy.

blahhh okay so. i just spent like, a legit HOUR writing 1322 words of Brendon/Greta mermaid fic for a prompt over at sinandmisery's Multi-Fandom Comment!Fic Meme, which LJ would only let me post 929 of, and even then i had to cheat and split it into two comments (sadfaces DDD:).

so;

Brendon's pretty sure he's seeing things; that he's hallucinating, that he's developed a very sudden case of psychosis, that the stress finally made his mind go, that the shit he smoked with Jon earlier was laced with something; anything, because there is absolutely no way, no fucking way, that he's seeing a mermaid.

here.

idk, it's fun, i think i might try and force myself to actually write more of it (i've got like 399 words of it that LJ wouldn't let me include after the preliminary meeting already, so idk).