teach hipsters not to take themselves so seriously

[lierdumoa]

lierdumoa: I've been having a lot of Fall Out Boy dreams lately, that I don't remember at all, except I'll wake up with a song in my head
permetaform: o.o huh
lierdumoa: that *sounds* like a FOB song
permetaform: XD
lierdumoa: only I know I totally made it up in my head
permetaform: you're dreams are all soundtracked now?
lierdumoa: yes! soundtracked!

lierdumoa: okay, this time I actually remembered my FOB dream
natilathehun: Yeah?
lierdumoa: the end of it, anyway
lierdumoa: I was hanging out w/ the band for some reason
lierdumoa: I have no idea what
lierdumoa: we were watching that new Cobra Starship video, at like, the theater
lierdumoa: and talking about one of the Fuled By Ramen bands that I don't pay attention to
lierdumoa: and Pete mentioned a specific song, and I was like "Yeah. I'm sure I heard it before and just don't remember it. Generally once a singer goes above a certain pitch range I just tune them out." and Pete said something snarky about my not liking high whiny voices having something to do with the fact that I'd been only hitting on guys lately (though actually in rl, I haven't been hitting on *anyone* lately, male or female)
lierdumoa: and then leaned in and kissed me
lierdumoa: and I was about to go in for another kiss
lierdumoa: and woke up
lierdumoa: w/ the Cobra Starship song stuck in my head
natilathehun: *blinks*
natilathehun: That's... ok, the song is pretty much the icing.
lierdumoa: it was a very nice kiss
lierdumoa: brief, but with some tongue


I did some work on the Patrick/Maja fic last night. Now 1872 words. More importantly, now outlined, so I actually know what I have left to write. Looks like it will be around 4,000 words when done. Apparently I am just physically incapable of writing anything under 4,000 words anymore.

The vampire!Pete au is on hold until I finish the Patrick/Maja.


And, in the interests of making livejournal posts that are more than completely self-indulgent fluff:

[] Fanfiction Recommendations

Pete/Patrick, all.

Paradoxymornon Part I|Part II by xxdance
In which Patrick is not a college student and Pete is not a journalist.

Pete jumped half over the counter, head and arms hanging over the edge. "Admit it, Patrick--you want me around. I'm like the devil."

"I'll say."

"Everybody wants the devil around, Patrick."

Colors by therentmatrix
Something’s a bit off.

“Pete,” he says cautiously, “why is everything in black and white?” Pete looks up, eyes full of both fear and relief.

“You see it too? Oh thank God, I thought I was losing it.”

You Can't Be Missed If You Never Go Away by femmequixotic
Blah, blah, relationship angst.

Pete caps the pen. “There,” he says, and he lets Patrick’s arm go.

Property of P.W., it says on one line in wide black capital letters wavering down Patrick’s arm. He licked it first Pete’s written beneath and Patrick barks out a sharp laugh.

Turn My Head Into Sound by ficbyzee
Burningly hot porn. Period, dot.

They were playing in Cleveland, and they were fucking *on.* The crowd was in love with them, Patrick's voice was driving people insane, Joe was a blur of constant movement and noise and Pete felt like his heart would stop beating if they ever stepped off the stage. He was playing behind Patrick and he moved to whisper in his ear, the way he always did.

"You're so fucking sexy like this," he said, breathing against Patrick's neck. "I want to get down on my knees for you right now."

Rebel Girl by ficbyzee
Pete if he were born a girl.

Patrick had thought they'd weathered the worst the press could possibly throw at them after Peyton's naked pictures on the internet, and it's not like tabloids haven't been circulating rumors about him and Peyton since they started to get big, but this--

"So this is what it's like to be on the cover of Rolling Stone," Andy says, and yeah. That's exactly it. Patrick wishes there were someone here he could punch.

correspondence course by provetheworst
Futuristic space-age au. Pen pals.

Pete's reply is almost instant. i dont know. im not sure where i am either location-wise or with my head. im feeling lost in all the best ways.

Patrick rolls his eyes and waits until his shift is over to reply again. He keeps it simple.

Pete,
The hell?
Patrick

Lace up your skates real good. by pre_emptive
Pete is a cryptic little shit.

"You're the most important person in the world to me." And suddenly Pete's voice is all soft and unnervingly open-sounding and Patrick really hates when he says things like that.

Half a Million Words and Nowhere to Start by one900
Pretty little vignettes.

Patrick is slumped against the back of the couch. For some reason, he wants to call Pete a fucking asshole. Say fuck you, fuck you for telling me nothing and everything, Jesus fucking Christ, Pete. He reaches up and touches Pete's neck instead, then lets his hand slip down until it's hanging off the collar of his shirt and pulling it unevenly open on one side.

Marabou by provetheworst
Wingfic, with hands down the best punchline of any wingfic ever.

“Oh, my god,” Pete says, burying his face in his hands. He shivers a little when Patrick's hand follows his wings down to where they join his back. “This is the stupidest thing ever. And I have to get a new shirt.”

It's Not a Side Effect of the Cocaine, I am Thinking it Must be Love by chopsticknoodle
Patrick has a little crush.

The crowd is screaming for an encore, and Patrick can feel the energy radiating off of Pete. He can feel it. He can also feel it the second Pete looks over at him, grinning bright and feeding off the crowd.

He tilts his head a little, sort of like a, what do you say?

And Jesus god, it’s not like Patrick’s gotten this far by saying no to him.