Re: RPS - BandomtroubleinchinaOctober 15 2010, 00:12:56 UTC
"Pete." Ashley sounded serious, so Pete turned around to make it appear as though she had his full attention. (Which would be difficult with so many interesting things out the window of the bus. Right now, for example, they were driving by the world's largest pysanka. Pete made a mental note to learn what a pysanka was.)
"Ashley! I am, as always, delighted to see you." He waggled his eyebrows at her in his favourite come-hither leer.
Uh-oh, Ashley looked annoyed. "Pete, I was on the internet today and... well... Is there anyone who hasn't seen your penis
( ... )
I've had this all explained to me in excruciating detail, but somehow... demonic9yearoldOctober 15 2010, 07:59:00 UTC
"Room Service."
Patrick woke up and rubbed his bleary little underaged eyes. He stood, and disentangled himself from the clinging arms and legs belonging to the lead singers of (up to and possibly more than) six different bands of the emo-rock variety.
His hair was probably adorably matted as he padded around other thoroughly pissed rock stars on the floor of the hotel room, looking for some tight pants to put on. Smears of Pete Wentz's lipstick were on his jaw, he noted, glancing in the mirror.
Affection washed over him as he stood at the door, looking over his shoulder at the piles of sleeping people who he may or may not have canonically dated.
He clicked back the lock and pulled open the door. "Surprise, it's me, Pete Wentz's wife!" Were you surprised, reader, after all the homoerotic debauchery? No, really, it's great, they're totally cool about it, and stuff.
"Yay," said Patrick, and ate the marshmallows she'd brought for breakfast with seriously adorable gusto.
(via lovelypoet)
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"Ashley! I am, as always, delighted to see you." He waggled his eyebrows at her in his favourite come-hither leer.
Uh-oh, Ashley looked annoyed. "Pete, I was on the internet today and... well... Is there anyone who hasn't seen your penis ( ... )
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Patrick woke up and rubbed his bleary little underaged eyes. He stood, and disentangled himself from the clinging arms and legs belonging to the lead singers of (up to and possibly more than) six different bands of the emo-rock variety.
His hair was probably adorably matted as he padded around other thoroughly pissed rock stars on the floor of the hotel room, looking for some tight pants to put on. Smears of Pete Wentz's lipstick were on his jaw, he noted, glancing in the mirror.
Affection washed over him as he stood at the door, looking over his shoulder at the piles of sleeping people who he may or may not have canonically dated.
He clicked back the lock and pulled open the door. "Surprise, it's me, Pete Wentz's wife!"
Were you surprised, reader, after all the homoerotic debauchery? No, really, it's great, they're totally cool about it, and stuff.
"Yay," said Patrick, and ate the marshmallows she'd brought for breakfast with seriously adorable gusto.
[/fail]
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It's the "adorably matted" that makes it perfect. And "affection washed over him."
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