from prompterr : "Enough"

Bandom: Panic at the Disco
Pairing: Ryden
Rating: PG - swearing and a kiss.
Summary: A plan to reunite what was lost in a band can go completely wrong... or right.


( we're going to be eaten by fucking coyotes! )

from prompterr : "Far"

Pairing: Implied John/Paul, but nothing happens.
Rating: G.


( there were so very far from John's stuffy bedroom now... )

from prompterr : "Summer"


It was Summer - the heat was baking the cracked concrete and rotting the bodies faster, their insides cooking and leaving the streets a stenching mess.

Brendon bowed his head as he walked along, eyes strictly on his shoes. So many had been lost... How could they ever rebuild the city? The country? He knew it was Summer from the high position of the sun, which seared his neck, which was already golden brown. Brendon had been out in the sun everyday - working to bury the dead, but he couldn't dig fast enough. He wasn't strong enough to dig thousands of graves; he wasn't strong enough to be alone in a world of the dead.

He was long past the breakdown stage of the tragedy. The boy had come to accept the fact that the world had been devastated and he had been chosen to rebuild it as best he could. So every day, he put his shovel over his shoulder and walked the pavements, sun beating down on his neck, and went to work rebuilding the city. He buried the dead, he cleaned up shops and moved cars. He preserved petrol and food rations, he planted seeds of vegetables and he fed the animals. The animals made Brendon feel less alone.

"Hello?"

Brendon often thought he heard people calling out to him in the deserted city. It had been so long since he'd heard another human voice that he sometimes became delusional, a little paranoid. But now, as he walked the sidewalk, he heard a voice calling for attention. Because Brendon had been alone so long, he sometimes delighted in his own fantasies - following the voice.

"Is anyone there?"

The voice was coming from the hospital. Brendon had checked the hospital many times since the wipe out - the people there who had died were not in immediate danger of rotting, so he only entered there to get medical supplies, reminding himself he'd have to clear it out, too. Brendon decided to indulge the voice and crossed the deserted road to the hospital, looking up at the windows and in the door.

"Oh god, what's happened?"

It was a male voice, clearly distraught and terrified. Brendon felt his curiousity pique - the voices he heard never appeared anything but calm and happy. Picking up his pace, Brendon began roaming the halls, heart beating furiously.

"Hello? Is someone there?" he called, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

"I'm here."

Brendon was running now. He couldn't get around the corners fast enough. He knocked over tables and first aid kits, while tripping over the occassional dead body.

"Where? Hello!?"

"I'm here?"

He rounded the doorway to find a man sitting on a bed, dressed in a white gown, eyes wide and hair matted and greasy. He was real, and Brendon felt his head spinning.

"Hey, are you alright?" the boy asked, attempting to walk to Brendon, but his legs collapsed beneath him, as though they hadn't been walked on in years. "Ow. OH MY GOD. Fuckfuckfuck!"

That got Brendon moving. He lifted the boy from the ground and put him back on the bed, managing to get a closer look at him. The boy - or man - looked around 22 or 23, with dark hair and dark eyes. He was cute.

"Wh-why can't I-?"

"I'm guessing you've been in a coma," said Brendon, looking at the boy again. He didn't remember seeing him, but Brendon didn't really study every face in the hospital. Everyone had been dead, and he hadn't checked everyone for a pulse. This man must've been in a coma, and without daily physical exercise therapy for his legs... "What's your name?"

"Ryan."

Brendon smiled. "I'm Brendon. Welcome back to the world."

Ryan frowned. "What's going on out there? I've been calling for help for hours, and no one came. Have the nurses gone on strike?"

He really didn't know? How long had he been in a coma for?

"Maybe you'd better see for yourself, Ryan." Brendon put the man into a wheelchair that was in the hall and wheeled him to the window, letting Ryan look out into the wasteland that had once been New York City. It was empty; no cars stirred in the streets, and there were no crowds of people bustling about. It was so quiet that even the smallest of breezes seemed loud. "They're all gone. I've searched everywhere."

"N-No. I-I-I.. I don't believe you. I'm still asleep." Ryan was clearly in denial. Brendon knew it was going to be a long night.

"You've woken in the summer of 2012. The era of the dead."

And the sun shone in the hospital window all afternoon as Brendon told Ryan the story of the world he had missed. The plague, the deaths, the fear and panic, and then the mass extermination that he had escaped. He had though he was the only one, until today. Ryan had cried for a while before concluding that it was real. That summer, Brendon showed Ryan around the city, talking him through its operation and what was what. And when the sun shone on Ryan's golden neck the way it did on his, Brendon knew everything was finally coming together - he would finally have the strength to rebuild the city, and the world if needed, so long as he had Ryan by his side.

from prompterr : "Drama"

"You're such a fucking drama queen!"

"WHAT?! Fuck you! You're the fucking diva, Bill!"

"My name is WILLIAM!"

Silence.

"WELL THEN I AM GABRIEL FUCKING SAPORTA!"

Gabe slammed the door behind him as he stormed away from William, his face contorted and coloured in anger. He hated arguing with Bill, but sometimes that man just got out of hand.

In the room, William used his long legs to pace the room furiously, close to tears. He too hated arguing - it upsetted him more when it was with Gabe. And it was normally about the most silliest things - who had left the milk to go off, who had left their towel on the floor, who had used the last of the hair spray...

William walked out the door after Gabe, not wanting the argument to stem further. He just wanted to see Gabe's face and know that everything was going to be ok. He found his lover on the floor of the elevator, riding the machine up and down the hotel floors, eyes glazed and cap pulled down. William stood beside Gabe for the first 20 floors without saying a word, just standing and staring. But Gabe didn't move; didn't acknowledge William standing there.

In defeat, Bill sank to the metal floor beside him. They sat for a long time in silence, simply riding on all the floors, letting people on and off while receiving strange looks.

"I'm sorry," William whispered, even though the elevator was empty. Gabe lifted his head but didn't look at William.

"I'm sorry too, William."

Silence.

"You can call me Bill."

"This doesn't change the fact that you're still a drama queen, Bill."

William just smiled and shook his head, before selecting all the floors on the hotel and sitting back beside Gabe, along for the ride.

Sometimes I'm hesitant to write William/Gabe, but I thought this one was a good scenario.
Pairing: William Beckett / Gabe Saporta
Fandom: The Academy Is... & Cobra Starship
 

from prompterr : "Kiss"
(sorry that I've missed a thousand of these. very busy with university work!)
(also, I have decided that these prompts will be about pairings that I like on the day)

Brendon grinned at Ryan across the polished table, a grin that made the corners of Ryan's mouth twitch and he bowed his head so that no one would see his mouth crack. He felt Brendon's sneakered foot brush against his skin, and Ryan felt himself blush. He knew he had to compose himself, but it was rather difficult with Brendon acting like a teenager all the time. For some reason, Brendon made Ryan feel like a teenager again; like they were discovering what love was all over again.

"So, Brendon, what was the inspiration for 'Folkin' Around'?"

The blood running through Ryan's veins, once burning hot, was frozen cold - his eyes snapped up to see Brendon's reaction - he was perfectly composed, as though he was at ease discussing the real reason behind the song. He wouldn't, would he? Ryan was desperately searching for Brendon's foot beneath the table, hoping to kick him into lying. But the singer simply looked at the reporter and spoke.

"It's about loving someone, but giving up on them. Leaving them out in the dark after holding up the lantern for so long," he said, eyes dazzling Ryan wholeheartedly. He turned his giant eyes on the guitarist and his grin only widened - how could he? How could Brendon so willingly give away the meaning in his lyrics? Ryan had never liked to discuss the meaning behind their songs; he always felt the fans would understand them if they tried hard enough. He felt if they learnt the meaning behind the words, then they deserved to know. But here was Brendon, throwing the meaning and worth away like candy.

But Ryan wasn't angry with Brendon; no, he had spent too many hours, days and months of his life being angry with Brendon that he had given in to the singers' charm. It was too hard to fight. So he simply shook his head and held his tongue, listening to Brendon explain their up coming shows to the reporter - it was the plug, meaning they'd be escaping from here momentarily.

"Thanks for stopping by, guys!" says the reporter, like they're on friendly terms. They aren't. Ryan rolls his eyes and pushes away from the table dramatically, finally free from the stuffy studio and their fake plants. He can usually bear interviews and photoshoots - hell, sometimes they can even be fun. But today he longs for the sun and fresh air, for Brendon to just tell him that nothing else matters.

"Where to now?" asks Jon, looking around as though he was lost. Ryan smiles - Jon has always been so work focused that during these tours, he gets a bit  unnerved by having a scheduled 'free time'.

"Wherever. The city is ours til 9pm," laughs Spencer, clapping a friendly hand to Jon's shoulder and steering him out of the studio, winking to Ryan over his shoulder.

Ryan and Spencer had been friends for many years, and over that time, they knew each other inside and out. So when Spencer led Jon from the studio, it wasn't because he had somewhere to be, it was simply because he knew Ryan wanted to be alone with Brendon. Once alone, Ryan turned to the singer, who was examining his hair in a mirror, frowning.

"What?"

"I think I need a hair cut," said Brendon, but he didn't seem pleased at the prospect. "It always grows so fast."

Ryan laughed and grabbed Brendon, pulling him away from the mirror and his hair issues. Ryan happened to like Brendon's growing hair - but he always thought Brendon looked nice. They stepped out into the sunshine, immediately lowering their sunglasses to shade their eyes; they felt like albinos stepping into the sun for the first time. Without any words, they began strolling the streets of the city they were in, just strolling without an aim. Occassionally Brendon would whistle or sing a sentence, causing Ryan to give him a sideways glance and hide his smile.

"So, Ross: where are we going?"

Shrugging, Ryan continued walking, Brendon in tow. The thing about Brendon was that he was sometimes (mostly) like a child: he wanted to know everything about everything, and was always prone to the "why?" and "are we there yet?". Spencer and Jon usually left the answers for Ryan, knowing he had endless patience.

"I wish you wouldn't say so much to the press," says Ryan thoughtfully as they walk under palm trees, the wind ruslting their hair slightly.

Brendon frowns, looking hurt. "They asked a question! I'm not going to lie, Ryan. Besides, it's not as if the fans didn't know."

It's Ryan's turn to feel hurt. "The fans don't know! Sure, some have their suspicions, but.."

Who was he trying to kid? Almost all Panic fans knew their secret. Brendon smiled, finding it amusing how naive Ryan could be on the subject. "It's not like we're subtle, Ry."

That was true. Over the years, they had always flaunted their relationship publicly - the ups, the downs, the lust and the anger. It shined through their lyrics and live shows, and here Ryan was, still in denial.

"When are you ever going to kiss me in public?" Brendon asked suddenly, stopping and turning to Ryan, demanding an answer.

They were in the middle of a sidewalk, and the question attracted several stares from the elderly, who shuffled away on the walking frames in disgust. Ryan stared pointedly at the old folks, silently saying 'that's the reason why!'. But Brendon wasn't satisfied, and, in a moment of anger, grabbed Ryan and kissed him furiously - not caring about the old people, not caring about the people who stopped and stared, and most of all not caring about the cameras that flashed around them. He was tired of waiting for Ryan in the dark with his lantern, so he decided he had to bring the lantern to Ryan.

That was that. Pairing: Brendon Urie & Ryan Ross. Fandom: Panic at the Disco.

from prompterr : "Animate"

It was a small cubicle at which he sat, fingers dancing across the keys. The sounds - clickclickclick - mixed with the others floating around the floor space; a hundred or more others like him, all typing their lives away. And for what? He paused his clicking for a moment to consider his next paycheck and his lonely apartment, filled with empty pizza boxes and dust. He spent eight hours a day here only to go home and lay in front of the couch. It didn't seem logical and to him, it had never felt like his 'calling' in this life.

But is there such thing as a calling?

He pushed himself away from his desk, as if repulsed by the thought of resuming his typing. Picking up his bag, he threw his essentials from his desk into it and swung it onto his back and stood up. As he did so, the sounds of his neighbours' clicking halted, as they assesed his stance. Shock was written over their conformative faces - no one dared to break from the routine of work there. Not unless...

"I quit."

He stepped out of his sardine cubicle and triumphantly marched from the office, his boss yelling after him to reconsider his options. But nothing could stop him as he plugged his iPod in and strolled down the street, revelling in the feeling of liberty at this time of day. Sure, he now had no money and would probably need to get another job soon, but for the moment, he was free, lively, awake and animated. Finally a spark amongst the darkness, flaring his soul back to life.

promptdujour 's prompt #481:

from prompterr : "Enchanted"


His eyes were honey brown, something she had never seen before. She caught the reflection of her lifeless grey eyes and scowled, which only added to her ugly appearance. Turning away, she saw the sun hit his eyes and make them glow like embers, and she envied him - but mostly, she just loved him. He wasn't perfect, but it was his imperfections that only added to his beauty. He was awkward and a little geeky, but he was also passionate and sincere, and all she wanted was for him to turn those honey eyes her way and just see her. But it wasn't to be. She was never going to be in 'his league' (whatever that was), so she remained enchanted from afar. He was like a glimmering jewel behind glass - you can look, but can't touch.

from prompterr : "Policy"

They lived in a large white house in the country - as far as the eye could see, wheat stalks swayed in the light breeze, making the sound of a girl walking in chule. They had been brother and sister for as long as they could remember - or so they said. Jace was a little older and actually did remember a time when they weren't related. He had had the whole farm to himself, as well as all of his parents' attention. Not that he minded her being the favourite, in fact, he liked it. Jace liked watching Clary dance and smile for his parents like a trained show dog, even though she was so much more.

He would never tell though. No. It was policy in the country not to express odd feelings that are not natural, no matter how natural they were. Jace and Clary weren't brother and sister - they could be more.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jace!" laughed Clary, slightly angry when he proposed it. "It's hard enough for the family as it is."

Jace knew that well enough - the wheat was dying from a diease, and that meant a hungry winter. His mother would frown more, and his father would snap more easily. Jace wished he had Clary to turn to.

"You do, but only in a sisterly way. You dare try anything and father will have your neck."

This he also knew. But wasn't love worth breaking the rules and policies governing them? Was this even love? Jace watched Clary's red hair blow out behind her as she ran through the stalks, laughing as their dog barked happily, and he thought that maybe, perhaps it was.

from prompterr : "Outdoors"

Her name was Hunter - not very conventional, but she liked it. Her mother thought it gave her 'character', and the kids at school occassionally snickered behind her back. Hunter didn't care. She was a lively, energetic girl, always living outdoors whenever she could. Sometimes, she would simply disappear, but it was never cause for alarm - her mother always knew that Hunter needed her space, and knew that she would come home when she was done. The outdoors lived and breathed, and she had always felt at home there.

Green.

Brown.

Golden.

Her boots crunched over the sticks and dry leaves of the small forest behind her house, her favourite escape. Hunter would've liked to show it to someone, but she had always thought no one would appreciate it - her mother was distrustful, and Hunter herself had never had any good friends. But she didn't mind - she danced and ran through the forest by herself, not a care in the world there. Rabbits and birds stopped in their paths to tilt their heads at the girl, a regular sight in their homes. Hunter had become a constant visitor there, almost part of the forest it seemed at times.

And as Hunter grew older and her mother passed, she stayed at the house to be closer to the forest than ever. She eventually shared her place with a lover, and in time, her children. And when her time came, she was buried in the outdoors - her one true home.

Fun Fact #1

I have trust issues!

I don't know when it started or why, all I know is that I never give myself to another wholly.
I can't.
I think it's some form of defense mechanism.

Green Day's album pretty much owns my life right now.

My background with the band: I first heard them when I was pretty young - mostly on the radio playing "Good Riddance". I knew the words to that song before I even knew of the band. I basically forgot about them until 'American Idiot', when my sister bought the album. She liked them, but I liked them more. I used to get so jealous when I heard her playing it in her room, since our rooms are next to each other. So, when she went to work or out, I would secretly play it. Eventually I saved up enough money and bought it. At the same time, I distinctly remember buying 'Dookie' from Sanity, a music shop. That was a great day. I went home, put it on, and laid on my bed and just absorbed it.

From henceforth, I've managed to collect their albums, miss their concerts in Australia, and find myself. I know most people say bands have influenced them, but this is the one time it's actually true. Green Day were the band that taught me to be myself - a strange kid amongst other kids. That's how it felt anyway. I first started writing stories because of them - which began with fanfiction. They got me involved with fandom, when I religiously followed several stories on geekstinkbreath.net.

And 'Bullet in a Bible' was the only thing I wanted one Christmas (2005). I remember opening it, thanking my parents, and running downstairs to watch it (because I didn't have a tv in my room at the time). I watched it in awe: it was magic in motion. Then came the long drought - 4 years of silence on the Green Day front, almost: there were sparks from The Network and The Foxboro Hot Tubs that made me smile, but I knew Green Day would be back.

& here we are, like nothing has ever changed.

My name is Carlie.
This is my journal. Welcome.

This is just one side of Carlie - the Nervous Wreck.

She's pretty much hopeless in every situation she's confronted with.
She's mostly repressed, but she does get some time to shine.

NW is so frightened of everything that she wants to run away and live in isolation.
Public speaking, boys, dancing, being herself, failure, success, life - the list goes on.

This will be her enclosure.