SCREW YOU VIRGINIA MARIE
Jun. 8th, 2010 06:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
1st_eggokageOkay, so, if you guys didn't know, Ginny is basically my own personal inspiration fairy and 90% of everything I write is for her. Once again, here be a chat drabble, I make no promises regarding its quality.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
teh_slush because I LOVE HER IN THE FACE: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump; bandom [A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More "Touch Me" AU]; PG-13. [555 words+chatlog introduction]
Ginny: ...it just occurred to me that 16c and this ain't a scene are totally in the same universe and someone should write william turning pete to save him from dying of defenestration
Eggo: ...did you take your nyquil
Ginny: no!
Ginny: I think I'm just coming off my sinus meds now
Eggo: i think this ain't a scene is a parallel universe and william dimension-hops.
Ginny: possibly.
Ginny: especially since the sugar guys are there too
Ginny: and travie's not a vampire
Eggo: fandoooom, where is my 16c!travie/william?
Ginny: ...or the entirety of 16c is pete's fever dream
Eggo: passive-aggressive tea parties
Ginny: yessss
Eggo: william doesn't actually hate travis, but.
Eggo: they're immortals!
Eggo: they have nothing better to do.
Eggo: seriously the idea of vampire turf wars is more than a little silly.
Eggo: humans claim things because they won't last forever and they want what they can get, now.
Eggo: ALSO YOUR FEVER DREAM THING HAS MERIT BECAUSE PETE WENTZ WOULD NOT LET HIMSELF WIN EVEN IN HIS DREAMS.
Ginny: OH, PETE.
Ginny: but hm, vampires aren't technically invincible, so maybe the whole gathering a crew and turf thing is just a safety precaution
Ginny: just sort of a "CONVERT EVERYONE SO NOBODY TRIES TO KILL ME" thing
Eggo: although it's clear that they don't take the hunters seriously, seeing as how EVERYONE IS IN ON THE JOKE
Ginny: yeah, they're probably just keeping them alive to play with
Eggo: Pete amuses William to no end.
Ginny: wait, doesn't one of them nom on Patrick near the end?
Eggo: ...do they?
Eggo: oh wait, he gets dogpiled by vampire ladies
Ginny: I remember they restrain him and they sort of vaguely hint at biting him?
Ginny: SOMEONE WRITE PATRICK GETTING TURNED AND PETE DESPAIRING
Eggo: ...Pete would not take that shit lying down
Eggo: ohmygod and they're like. in jail or whatever, right after the whole thing, and something is seriously wrong here aside from the obvious. because patrick's all shaky and pale and not himself.
Eggo: and pete's like "'trick? you okay?" but he is definitely not okay, because it quickly becomes clear that the aforementioned vampire ladies thought patrick stump was delicious.
Eggo: and he's lost way too much blood.
Eggo: and so pete can either turn him or, y'know, lose his best friend in the entire world.
Ginny: sdlkfj but pete knows that if he turns him, not only would patrick not be patrick anymore but he'd also be taking one more step away from the humanity he's trying to keep
Eggo: yes. but he's taking too long to decide and patrick's fading, he can't keep his eyes open, and andy and joe are in the cell next to them and they're like "what the fuck's going on" and pete knows how wrong this is but he just can't let patrick die like this.
Ginny: so he has to do it, and he wants to discuss this first and get patrick's consent but he can barely keep his eyes open as it is, so pete's just shaking and apologizing and he's just having terrible flashbacks of william the whole time
Eggo: right, that's it, give me ten minutes
Eggo: and damn you for being my inspiration fairy
Patrick's going to die.
Not in a vague human sense, not at some point, not as an inevitability for a vampire hunter, but now, in the next few minutes, Patrick is going to die. Here, leaning back against a jail cell wall, wrapped tight in Pete's arms.
Pete had seen Patrick go down, struggling against the girls he'd supposedly saved, but only for a second and then suddenly William was right there in front of him and he'd been a little busy. He's kicking himself for it now, because apparently, vampire ladies think Patrick Stump is delicious and had gone much farther than anyone should be able to come back from, and now Pete's going to lose his best friend in the entire fucking world.
Unless he does something about it. Which he can't, because if he even stops for a moment to contemplate the simple biological fact that yes, technically, he can, then he will, and... no.
Kiss her, kiss her, his traitorous brain reminds him, and Pete feels sick.
"Patrick," he says softly, trying to shake Patrick's shoulder a little, because his eyes are starting to slip shut. "Come on, stay awake."
Patrick's glasses are broken, but he squints up at Pete in that way he has when he's trying to focus on something very important, and Pete's heart simultaneously shatters and falls in love all over again. "Tired," he says, and if Pete's voice was soft then Patrick's is practically nonexistent. "And cold. Wake me up later?"
Fuck. He can. He can, and he will.
"I'm sorry, 'Trick, I'm so, so sorry," and he knows he's practically incoherent but this is not how it was supposed to go. This is one more notch of pure wrongness on the bedpost of wrong that is this entire situation, and all he can think of is William. It's disgusting, making this horrible, horrible moment so much worse, remembering William's body curled against his, and that fucking voice, murmuring against his throat right before William's fangs broke the skin.
He remembers how William kissed him, slow and deep, and Pete could taste his own blood in William's mouth. And then it wasn't just his own, because William pulled away, leaving Pete dizzy and needy and impossibly turned on, only to raise his open wrist to Pete's mouth and hiss a command against his ear: "Drink."
And, fucking mesmerized idiot that he was, Pete had done just that, chased the suddenly intoxicating cocktail of his blood and William's, until he could feel a strange light behind his eyes that blinded him and threw everything into sharp relief and made him want to black out, all at the same time. And then the change hit him like a fucking ocean wave, smacking into him with more force than he could imagine and dragging him under, melting his whole body from the inside out, and he felt his teeth – his fucking fangs – lengthening and sharpening and clamping down hard on William's wrist–
"Pete," Patrick's voice rasps, and fuck, that's it.
"You can hate me later," Pete says, his voice shaky, and of course now that he's actually looking around, he doesn't even have anything to fucking cut himself with, so he just tears the skin of his wrist open with his teeth and tries not to choke on the irony as he lowers the wound to Patrick's lips.
"I'm sorry."
And from writing group last weekend:
gen (Panic! At the Disco GSF?); bandom; PG. [201 words]
you belong among the wildflowers.
To simply lie back on the riverbank, in the grass, not caring about tiny insects or the inevitable itch to come. Perhaps there is a blanket beneath you, but you're not sure, because at an impossible time, who's to say?
They are there, around you, bare feet, roses, laughter, the soft scent of companionship and affection and cannabis. Not three, not five, four of you, because sometimes people can't count. Impossible times again, or just improbable, one of them will argue, snuggling closer like a cat in the sunshine, but you'll ignore him because he's the one that can't count in the first place.
Or maybe you are not on a riverbank at all, because that would be a different song and you are still the right size and the giggly one is not using a cello as a guitar or whatever the fuck. You're in a room, and it's your eyes that are the wrong size and not the rest of you.
...But that's not right either. There were four and now there are two, and some of the beauty is lost, never to return. But the hour is still a ridiculous one, and you are not completely alone.
For
teh_slush because I LOVE HER IN THE FACE: Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump; bandom [A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More "Touch Me" AU]; PG-13. [555 words+chatlog introduction]Ginny: ...it just occurred to me that 16c and this ain't a scene are totally in the same universe and someone should write william turning pete to save him from dying of defenestration
Eggo: ...did you take your nyquil
Ginny: no!
Ginny: I think I'm just coming off my sinus meds now
Eggo: i think this ain't a scene is a parallel universe and william dimension-hops.
Ginny: possibly.
Ginny: especially since the sugar guys are there too
Ginny: and travie's not a vampire
Eggo: fandoooom, where is my 16c!travie/william?
Ginny: ...or the entirety of 16c is pete's fever dream
Eggo: passive-aggressive tea parties
Ginny: yessss
Eggo: william doesn't actually hate travis, but.
Eggo: they're immortals!
Eggo: they have nothing better to do.
Eggo: seriously the idea of vampire turf wars is more than a little silly.
Eggo: humans claim things because they won't last forever and they want what they can get, now.
Eggo: ALSO YOUR FEVER DREAM THING HAS MERIT BECAUSE PETE WENTZ WOULD NOT LET HIMSELF WIN EVEN IN HIS DREAMS.
Ginny: OH, PETE.
Ginny: but hm, vampires aren't technically invincible, so maybe the whole gathering a crew and turf thing is just a safety precaution
Ginny: just sort of a "CONVERT EVERYONE SO NOBODY TRIES TO KILL ME" thing
Eggo: although it's clear that they don't take the hunters seriously, seeing as how EVERYONE IS IN ON THE JOKE
Ginny: yeah, they're probably just keeping them alive to play with
Eggo: Pete amuses William to no end.
Ginny: wait, doesn't one of them nom on Patrick near the end?
Eggo: ...do they?
Eggo: oh wait, he gets dogpiled by vampire ladies
Ginny: I remember they restrain him and they sort of vaguely hint at biting him?
Ginny: SOMEONE WRITE PATRICK GETTING TURNED AND PETE DESPAIRING
Eggo: ...Pete would not take that shit lying down
Eggo: ohmygod and they're like. in jail or whatever, right after the whole thing, and something is seriously wrong here aside from the obvious. because patrick's all shaky and pale and not himself.
Eggo: and pete's like "'trick? you okay?" but he is definitely not okay, because it quickly becomes clear that the aforementioned vampire ladies thought patrick stump was delicious.
Eggo: and he's lost way too much blood.
Eggo: and so pete can either turn him or, y'know, lose his best friend in the entire world.
Ginny: sdlkfj but pete knows that if he turns him, not only would patrick not be patrick anymore but he'd also be taking one more step away from the humanity he's trying to keep
Eggo: yes. but he's taking too long to decide and patrick's fading, he can't keep his eyes open, and andy and joe are in the cell next to them and they're like "what the fuck's going on" and pete knows how wrong this is but he just can't let patrick die like this.
Ginny: so he has to do it, and he wants to discuss this first and get patrick's consent but he can barely keep his eyes open as it is, so pete's just shaking and apologizing and he's just having terrible flashbacks of william the whole time
Eggo: right, that's it, give me ten minutes
Eggo: and damn you for being my inspiration fairy
Patrick's going to die.
Not in a vague human sense, not at some point, not as an inevitability for a vampire hunter, but now, in the next few minutes, Patrick is going to die. Here, leaning back against a jail cell wall, wrapped tight in Pete's arms.
Pete had seen Patrick go down, struggling against the girls he'd supposedly saved, but only for a second and then suddenly William was right there in front of him and he'd been a little busy. He's kicking himself for it now, because apparently, vampire ladies think Patrick Stump is delicious and had gone much farther than anyone should be able to come back from, and now Pete's going to lose his best friend in the entire fucking world.
Unless he does something about it. Which he can't, because if he even stops for a moment to contemplate the simple biological fact that yes, technically, he can, then he will, and... no.
Kiss her, kiss her, his traitorous brain reminds him, and Pete feels sick.
"Patrick," he says softly, trying to shake Patrick's shoulder a little, because his eyes are starting to slip shut. "Come on, stay awake."
Patrick's glasses are broken, but he squints up at Pete in that way he has when he's trying to focus on something very important, and Pete's heart simultaneously shatters and falls in love all over again. "Tired," he says, and if Pete's voice was soft then Patrick's is practically nonexistent. "And cold. Wake me up later?"
Fuck. He can. He can, and he will.
"I'm sorry, 'Trick, I'm so, so sorry," and he knows he's practically incoherent but this is not how it was supposed to go. This is one more notch of pure wrongness on the bedpost of wrong that is this entire situation, and all he can think of is William. It's disgusting, making this horrible, horrible moment so much worse, remembering William's body curled against his, and that fucking voice, murmuring against his throat right before William's fangs broke the skin.
He remembers how William kissed him, slow and deep, and Pete could taste his own blood in William's mouth. And then it wasn't just his own, because William pulled away, leaving Pete dizzy and needy and impossibly turned on, only to raise his open wrist to Pete's mouth and hiss a command against his ear: "Drink."
And, fucking mesmerized idiot that he was, Pete had done just that, chased the suddenly intoxicating cocktail of his blood and William's, until he could feel a strange light behind his eyes that blinded him and threw everything into sharp relief and made him want to black out, all at the same time. And then the change hit him like a fucking ocean wave, smacking into him with more force than he could imagine and dragging him under, melting his whole body from the inside out, and he felt his teeth – his fucking fangs – lengthening and sharpening and clamping down hard on William's wrist–
"Pete," Patrick's voice rasps, and fuck, that's it.
"You can hate me later," Pete says, his voice shaky, and of course now that he's actually looking around, he doesn't even have anything to fucking cut himself with, so he just tears the skin of his wrist open with his teeth and tries not to choke on the irony as he lowers the wound to Patrick's lips.
"I'm sorry."
And from writing group last weekend:
gen (Panic! At the Disco GSF?); bandom; PG. [201 words]
you belong among the wildflowers.
To simply lie back on the riverbank, in the grass, not caring about tiny insects or the inevitable itch to come. Perhaps there is a blanket beneath you, but you're not sure, because at an impossible time, who's to say?
They are there, around you, bare feet, roses, laughter, the soft scent of companionship and affection and cannabis. Not three, not five, four of you, because sometimes people can't count. Impossible times again, or just improbable, one of them will argue, snuggling closer like a cat in the sunshine, but you'll ignore him because he's the one that can't count in the first place.
Or maybe you are not on a riverbank at all, because that would be a different song and you are still the right size and the giggly one is not using a cello as a guitar or whatever the fuck. You're in a room, and it's your eyes that are the wrong size and not the rest of you.
...But that's not right either. There were four and now there are two, and some of the beauty is lost, never to return. But the hour is still a ridiculous one, and you are not completely alone.
