good news at last!
Good news you guys! The DomestEPIC is finished and has a title and has officially been sent off to beta! It's a long-ass motherfucker, though, so give it a couple weeks.
I suck for taking so long with this. Sorry! Part of the hold up was me accidentally MELTING part of my keyboard off (do not type while smoking, just don’t) which resulted in me breaking my “d” and “s” keys, so that now I have to copy/paste them whenever I want them. And guys, I don’t know if you noticed, but there are a LOT of words with d and s! But the other thing is that I apparently have a problem with bandom.
The problem with writing in bandom, for me at least, is that I get distracted. I keep flitting from story to story, which I never did in any other fandom I’ve written for, and what’s worse is I’m always coming up with even WEIRDER ideas that I then have to talk myself out of. (Sometimes, I do not succeed. This is when Spencer-is-a-mermaid fics happen.) Like right now, I need to be told - very firmly! - not to write a story about MECHA PILOTS. I have serious collegiate business to attend to, but I can’t stop thinking about Panic fighting aliens in giant robot suits. (Pete would be their general!) As much as this entertains me, I can’t let myself take it further, seriously. I’ll never finish it and it will just upset me. This means that SOMEONE ELSE should write it. Just saying.
ANYWAY, as further penance for my suckiness, here's some more of the sequel to "Football Is The Gayest Profession..." Don't say I never gave you anything!
“Ryan,” Spencer said, “you’re not going to find any potential articles on LiveJournal.”
Ryan glared and refreshed his friends page. Showed what Spencer knew. There was no place in the world with more drama than LiveJournal. He just had to find the right drama and harness it. It was only a matter of time.
“Ryan,” Spencer said again. “Seriously. This is sad. Come out with us. Pete’s having one of his parties tonight. You love Pete! C’mon.”
Ryan did love Pete, but Pete was not going to give him a brilliant tell-all article. Pete basically was a tell-all article; everyone knew exactly what he and Patrick Stump got up to in the store room of the record store where Patrick worked. In pretty graphic detail. “Spencer, I really have a lot of work to do,” he said. “Go hang out with Jon.”
“Are you kidding?” Spencer said. “I just finally lost him, I can’t leave now, he’ll find me in, like, two seconds.”
“And he’s not going to think of looking for you here?” Ryan pointed out.
Spencer looked so smug it was ridiculous. “I ran into Frank Iero and let him borrow my car,” he said. “Jon’s probably still tailing him.”
“You guys are such freaks,” Ryan said. “Maybe I should write an article about you two and how you’re such freaks.”
“Whatever,” Spencer said. His phone chirped in his pocket. “Jon says you should come out tonight,” Spencer relayed. “He also says he likes your Blink 182 poster.”
“See?” Ryan said. “Freaks.”
But Spencer was already opening the window and leaning out. “Hey,” he said, and just from his voice Ryan could tell he was beaming like a complete tool.
“Hi,” Jon said, probably from somewhere in Ryan’s mom’s rhododendron bush. “Pretty sneaky trick, Smith.”
“I thought so,” Spencer said. Ryan kind of wanted to fine him for smugness. Or craziness. Maybe both. “Ryan says he’s not coming.”
“What? Did you tell him he’s being a loner freak?”
“I’m being a freak?” Ryan squawked. “You guys stalk each other!”
Spencer turned to glare at him, looking nonplussed, like he wasn’t completely insane.
“Don’t even,” Ryan said. “You know you guys have issues.”
“Hey, did you tell him about Gabe?” Jon called up.
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Spencer said. “Did you hear Pete invited Gabe Saporta and the Cobras?”
“What?” Ryan said. “What? Why would he do that? He hates Saporta!” This was drama! This was shocking! This would have been something to tell Ryan the minute Spencer walked in the door, maybe!
“Yeah, well, apparently dating Patrick has turned Pete into a more mellow person, or whatever, and now that he and Saporta both graduated the whole football rivalry thing isn’t as fun anymore and they found out they have a lot in common. Still, just because they’ve both called off whatever epic feud they had going on doesn’t mean everyone else has. Also, they’re both completely nuts, so, you know, there’s that.” Spencer sat against the window sill, folded his arms across his chest and gave Ryan his smuggest smile yet. “So, feel like coming now?”
Ryan just gaped at him.
“Is he going for it?” Jon called from outside. “Because if not I’ve been practicing kidnapping people!”
“Oh my god, call off your stalker,” Ryan said. “I’ll go.”
“He’s coming!” Spencer yelled down.
“Good, because that kidnapping was gonna be our romantic Friday night.”
“Freaks,” Ryan reminded them and started digging through his drawers for a notebook.
* *
Brendon didn’t realize what was weird about the party until he was a beer or two deep. He leaned against the wall and surveyed the crowd and realized that there was an awful lot of purple blending with the Glenview Mongoose yellow. “Dude,” he said, “I think the Cobras are here.”
“Uh, yeah, we were invited,” said the wall.
Brendon obviously freaked out. “Holy shit,” he said, “you’re everywhere.”
“Glenview is so weird,” the guy Brendon had been leaning on said to his friend. Brendon recognized them from the football team, but had no idea who they were, and, whatever, because they were totally enemies. … Or not?
“Did I not get some memo?” Brendon wondered out loud. “Some feud-ending memo?”
“Dude,” one of the guys said, “feuds are so last year.”
“This is true,” Pete said, coming up with, obviously, Patrick in tow. Everyone was being so coupley lately; honestly, it was repulsive. Morals, standards, were clearly going out the window. Pete had evidently forgotten what was important, but he didn’t seem too worried about it. “I have matured as a person, Brendon. I have Grown Wise.”
“Aren’t you worried that they’re, like, infiltrating? Stealing valuable secrets? Drinking all the beer?” Brendon muttered, eyeing the Cobras distrustfully.
“Like I care,” Pete said. “I graduated.”
Immediately there was a chorus of cheers from the graduating class, all of them high-fiving and toasting each other. Seniors were so lame, Brendon thought. It was like they had no school pride. “You are a traitor to the Mongoose name, Pete Wentz,” Brendon informed him.
“Me?” Pete said. “Dude, Tom is doing body shots of their cheerleaders.”
“Their cheerleaders are here?” Brendon said, horrified.
“Oh, is this the one that peed in our water cooler?”
Oh god. It was official. Worst party ever. Beckett was here.
“You knew about that?” Brendon hissed.
“We saw you do it,” Beckett said. “We were right around the corner.”
“I knew you were sneakier than I gave you credit for,” Brendon said darkly.
“Yeah, well, some freak sneaking around in a ski mask is kind of obvious. We were this close to calling in a bomb threat. If it makes you feel better, Gabe drank it anyway,” Beckett said in a deceptively helpful tone.
“Ew,” Brendon said. “That’s just. Ew, you guys are barbaric.”
“You’re the one who pees in water coolers,” Beckett pointed out.
“Isn’t this fun?” Pete said blissfully. “Patrick, my Stump, how would you feel about having sex in my backseat?”
“You are so gross and weird,” Patrick said. “I really don’t even know why I’m dating you.”
“I am awesome, I know,” Pete said and dragged him off, probably to hump him somewhere, when he should have been helping Brendon stand his ground against this onslaught. Brendon totally blamed dating for this.
He did not blame dating for bringing Spencer Smith into his life, though. Spencer Smith was a joy and a delight and had a glare that even Principal Hurley wouldn’t mess with (if stories about the PDA Debacle were to be believed) and he was exactly who Brendon needed.
“Jon Walker,” Brendon said, darting over to Spencer and Jon, “You’re the only one who’s allowed to date. Give me your boyfriend, please.”
“No way, Urie,” Jon said. “Do you even know what I had to go through to get him?”
Spencer muttered something that sounded like ‘petty vandalism’ - honestly, Brendon didn’t even want to know. He had more important things to worry about. “It’s important and I swear I will return him to you probably unscathed.”
“Brendon, I’m not going to glare at Bill Beckett for you,” Spencer said.
“Just once?” Brendon asked, giving Spencer his biggest, most adorable eyes.
“Nope.”
“What is the matter with everyone?” Brendon demanded, and, without waiting for some stupid answer about how everyone was maturing, stomped off to get another beer.
* *
Ryan had been at this stupid party for an hour and the most interesting interaction between the Cobras and the Mongooses had been Tom Conrad making out with Vicky-T. And how the hell was Ryan supposed to make journalism out of that? He wasn’t freaking Gossip Girl.
He turned to tell Spencer he was the worst friend ever, but he was gone. A scan around the room revealed that Jon was trying to strategically position himself behind Joe Trohman’s hair, so Ryan could safely assume they were being weird. Again.
“The point of dating someone is not hiding from them!” Ryan informed Jon.
Jon just grinned, put his finger to his lips in a silencing gesture, and bent at the knees to better conceal himself.
“I’m transferring,” Ryan told nobody in particular, “and then I am going to get some normal friends.”
I suck for taking so long with this. Sorry! Part of the hold up was me accidentally MELTING part of my keyboard off (do not type while smoking, just don’t) which resulted in me breaking my “d” and “s” keys, so that now I have to copy/paste them whenever I want them. And guys, I don’t know if you noticed, but there are a LOT of words with d and s! But the other thing is that I apparently have a problem with bandom.
The problem with writing in bandom, for me at least, is that I get distracted. I keep flitting from story to story, which I never did in any other fandom I’ve written for, and what’s worse is I’m always coming up with even WEIRDER ideas that I then have to talk myself out of. (Sometimes, I do not succeed. This is when Spencer-is-a-mermaid fics happen.) Like right now, I need to be told - very firmly! - not to write a story about MECHA PILOTS. I have serious collegiate business to attend to, but I can’t stop thinking about Panic fighting aliens in giant robot suits. (Pete would be their general!) As much as this entertains me, I can’t let myself take it further, seriously. I’ll never finish it and it will just upset me. This means that SOMEONE ELSE should write it. Just saying.
ANYWAY, as further penance for my suckiness, here's some more of the sequel to "Football Is The Gayest Profession..." Don't say I never gave you anything!
“Ryan,” Spencer said, “you’re not going to find any potential articles on LiveJournal.”
Ryan glared and refreshed his friends page. Showed what Spencer knew. There was no place in the world with more drama than LiveJournal. He just had to find the right drama and harness it. It was only a matter of time.
“Ryan,” Spencer said again. “Seriously. This is sad. Come out with us. Pete’s having one of his parties tonight. You love Pete! C’mon.”
Ryan did love Pete, but Pete was not going to give him a brilliant tell-all article. Pete basically was a tell-all article; everyone knew exactly what he and Patrick Stump got up to in the store room of the record store where Patrick worked. In pretty graphic detail. “Spencer, I really have a lot of work to do,” he said. “Go hang out with Jon.”
“Are you kidding?” Spencer said. “I just finally lost him, I can’t leave now, he’ll find me in, like, two seconds.”
“And he’s not going to think of looking for you here?” Ryan pointed out.
Spencer looked so smug it was ridiculous. “I ran into Frank Iero and let him borrow my car,” he said. “Jon’s probably still tailing him.”
“You guys are such freaks,” Ryan said. “Maybe I should write an article about you two and how you’re such freaks.”
“Whatever,” Spencer said. His phone chirped in his pocket. “Jon says you should come out tonight,” Spencer relayed. “He also says he likes your Blink 182 poster.”
“See?” Ryan said. “Freaks.”
But Spencer was already opening the window and leaning out. “Hey,” he said, and just from his voice Ryan could tell he was beaming like a complete tool.
“Hi,” Jon said, probably from somewhere in Ryan’s mom’s rhododendron bush. “Pretty sneaky trick, Smith.”
“I thought so,” Spencer said. Ryan kind of wanted to fine him for smugness. Or craziness. Maybe both. “Ryan says he’s not coming.”
“What? Did you tell him he’s being a loner freak?”
“I’m being a freak?” Ryan squawked. “You guys stalk each other!”
Spencer turned to glare at him, looking nonplussed, like he wasn’t completely insane.
“Don’t even,” Ryan said. “You know you guys have issues.”
“Hey, did you tell him about Gabe?” Jon called up.
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Spencer said. “Did you hear Pete invited Gabe Saporta and the Cobras?”
“What?” Ryan said. “What? Why would he do that? He hates Saporta!” This was drama! This was shocking! This would have been something to tell Ryan the minute Spencer walked in the door, maybe!
“Yeah, well, apparently dating Patrick has turned Pete into a more mellow person, or whatever, and now that he and Saporta both graduated the whole football rivalry thing isn’t as fun anymore and they found out they have a lot in common. Still, just because they’ve both called off whatever epic feud they had going on doesn’t mean everyone else has. Also, they’re both completely nuts, so, you know, there’s that.” Spencer sat against the window sill, folded his arms across his chest and gave Ryan his smuggest smile yet. “So, feel like coming now?”
Ryan just gaped at him.
“Is he going for it?” Jon called from outside. “Because if not I’ve been practicing kidnapping people!”
“Oh my god, call off your stalker,” Ryan said. “I’ll go.”
“He’s coming!” Spencer yelled down.
“Good, because that kidnapping was gonna be our romantic Friday night.”
“Freaks,” Ryan reminded them and started digging through his drawers for a notebook.
* *
Brendon didn’t realize what was weird about the party until he was a beer or two deep. He leaned against the wall and surveyed the crowd and realized that there was an awful lot of purple blending with the Glenview Mongoose yellow. “Dude,” he said, “I think the Cobras are here.”
“Uh, yeah, we were invited,” said the wall.
Brendon obviously freaked out. “Holy shit,” he said, “you’re everywhere.”
“Glenview is so weird,” the guy Brendon had been leaning on said to his friend. Brendon recognized them from the football team, but had no idea who they were, and, whatever, because they were totally enemies. … Or not?
“Did I not get some memo?” Brendon wondered out loud. “Some feud-ending memo?”
“Dude,” one of the guys said, “feuds are so last year.”
“This is true,” Pete said, coming up with, obviously, Patrick in tow. Everyone was being so coupley lately; honestly, it was repulsive. Morals, standards, were clearly going out the window. Pete had evidently forgotten what was important, but he didn’t seem too worried about it. “I have matured as a person, Brendon. I have Grown Wise.”
“Aren’t you worried that they’re, like, infiltrating? Stealing valuable secrets? Drinking all the beer?” Brendon muttered, eyeing the Cobras distrustfully.
“Like I care,” Pete said. “I graduated.”
Immediately there was a chorus of cheers from the graduating class, all of them high-fiving and toasting each other. Seniors were so lame, Brendon thought. It was like they had no school pride. “You are a traitor to the Mongoose name, Pete Wentz,” Brendon informed him.
“Me?” Pete said. “Dude, Tom is doing body shots of their cheerleaders.”
“Their cheerleaders are here?” Brendon said, horrified.
“Oh, is this the one that peed in our water cooler?”
Oh god. It was official. Worst party ever. Beckett was here.
“You knew about that?” Brendon hissed.
“We saw you do it,” Beckett said. “We were right around the corner.”
“I knew you were sneakier than I gave you credit for,” Brendon said darkly.
“Yeah, well, some freak sneaking around in a ski mask is kind of obvious. We were this close to calling in a bomb threat. If it makes you feel better, Gabe drank it anyway,” Beckett said in a deceptively helpful tone.
“Ew,” Brendon said. “That’s just. Ew, you guys are barbaric.”
“You’re the one who pees in water coolers,” Beckett pointed out.
“Isn’t this fun?” Pete said blissfully. “Patrick, my Stump, how would you feel about having sex in my backseat?”
“You are so gross and weird,” Patrick said. “I really don’t even know why I’m dating you.”
“I am awesome, I know,” Pete said and dragged him off, probably to hump him somewhere, when he should have been helping Brendon stand his ground against this onslaught. Brendon totally blamed dating for this.
He did not blame dating for bringing Spencer Smith into his life, though. Spencer Smith was a joy and a delight and had a glare that even Principal Hurley wouldn’t mess with (if stories about the PDA Debacle were to be believed) and he was exactly who Brendon needed.
“Jon Walker,” Brendon said, darting over to Spencer and Jon, “You’re the only one who’s allowed to date. Give me your boyfriend, please.”
“No way, Urie,” Jon said. “Do you even know what I had to go through to get him?”
Spencer muttered something that sounded like ‘petty vandalism’ - honestly, Brendon didn’t even want to know. He had more important things to worry about. “It’s important and I swear I will return him to you probably unscathed.”
“Brendon, I’m not going to glare at Bill Beckett for you,” Spencer said.
“Just once?” Brendon asked, giving Spencer his biggest, most adorable eyes.
“Nope.”
“What is the matter with everyone?” Brendon demanded, and, without waiting for some stupid answer about how everyone was maturing, stomped off to get another beer.
* *
Ryan had been at this stupid party for an hour and the most interesting interaction between the Cobras and the Mongooses had been Tom Conrad making out with Vicky-T. And how the hell was Ryan supposed to make journalism out of that? He wasn’t freaking Gossip Girl.
He turned to tell Spencer he was the worst friend ever, but he was gone. A scan around the room revealed that Jon was trying to strategically position himself behind Joe Trohman’s hair, so Ryan could safely assume they were being weird. Again.
“The point of dating someone is not hiding from them!” Ryan informed Jon.
Jon just grinned, put his finger to his lips in a silencing gesture, and bent at the knees to better conceal himself.
“I’m transferring,” Ryan told nobody in particular, “and then I am going to get some normal friends.”