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Post #199
skipstoomuch wrote in anon_lovefest

Last Friday Night (William/Gabe/Darren)
Hold your colour (Adam Lambert, MCR))
Hold your colour 2: neon green (Adam Lambert, MCR))

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Pete/Patrick, killjoys'verse

Huh, I think I've seen this prompt somewhere else...*eyes you* *g*

*whistles innocently and wanders away*

remember when you were a madman?

Soul Punk's back hits the wall and he lets out a great, heavy sigh, turning his head to look at Sandman with his good eye. Sandman is grinning, beaming, happy as a fucking clam, and Soul really can't keep up the pretense of his glare, because he remembers how it used to be, without the meds, when everything was dark and he remembers sitting in a hospital room and he remembers pre-bomb Sandman as being tired.

"Lunchbox!" Sandman crows, like it's a huge surprise to see him, even though he fucking knew that Soul Punk would be here, mostly because this is where he /lives/. Also, "My name isn't fucking Lunchbox, Sandman." He reminds him. Sometimes, he thinks that Sandman honestly believes that he changed his handle to Lunchbox, or Pattycakes, or some variation of that.

"And my name isn't /realllly/ Sandman," He purrs, leaned in and flush against Soul, and it's really fucking unfair. "Say my name, Pat," It's so low that none of the EyesAndEars would be able to pick it up, but if Soul spoke, his voice would be loud and gasping.

He pushes his hips up and Sandman's fingers tangle in his strawberry-blonde hair, and they're rocking together, and Patr- Soul Punk feels fifteen again, the desert air and the radiation like some fucking cure-all, and he gasps, and Sandman is giggling something about 'a cat got your noisebox, silly bear'. He cottoned onto the Zonerunner speak right away, making up words and phrases with glee, and finally Soul really can't take it anymore.

"Fuck, Pete!" He half-howls, and then it's over and they're pressed together and sweating, Soul's face turned and his bad-eye-side resting against the wall while the good one looks at Sandman with a look that's trying to be reproachful. And failing miserably. But it's the thought that counts.


Pete is a therapist and Patrick's severely depressed.
Their time in sessions together.

There's A Light On In Chicago

I'm bad at writing and apparently frequent with anon!fails. Hope you're vaguely happy with this.

Patrick was barely out of high school when it happened. He didn't know what it was, but it was something big. It was like something had snapped inside of him and caused him to see the world in five different shades of grey. The music that he would listen to stopped meaning the world to him. His sheet music became unreadable. The notation meant nothing to him.

Over the summer the feeling got worse. He didn't want to sleep anymore, but he didn't want to wake up either. He didn't want to leave his parents’ house, but he never wanted to come back home if he had.

He didn't say anything about it to anyone. Even when his vision seemed to fog over and he stopped feeling like he was alive.

He wasn't sure how long it was until he stopped speaking completely, but he knew that it was only shortly afterwards that Patrick's parents felt the need to step in and do something.

His therapist was surprisingly nice. His name was Pete and he didn't seem to mind that sometimes Patrick just wanted to look out the window and see how the rain hit against the glass.

"How are you?" Pete said. He said it every week and to all of his patients and that question was practically his job, but he still meant it.

Patrick didn't say anything for a long time. "I guess. Like. I don't know," he eventually said.

Pete frowned. "You don't know because you don't want to say it, or you don't know because you actually don't know?"

"I actually don't know. Like, I seem to lack the capability to know how I feel."

Pete forwards in his chair and placed his elbows on the desk in front of him, letting his clasped hands resting on a notebook.

"Okay. Can you remember when you were the happiest? Or, fuck it, even at your worst?"

Patrick didn't have to think about an answer. He didn't want to think about an answer. "When I was younger, there was this travelling carnival thing that had so much happening. Like, they had musicians where there weren't loudspeakers, and they had all these games and rides. And there was this Ferris Wheel in the middle of it all. It wasn't that tall or anything, but it was big enough so that you could see over the tops of trees about half way up. It was way out of Chicago and the place it was in was just surrounded by trees.

"I was terrified of heights, but I went on with my brother and a friend of his from school anyway. You could see the lights of Chicago fading into the sky at the half point, and when you reached the stop you could see the entire city as clear as hell. The lights were so bright it was almost unreal. Like, I've never seen Chicago look like that before. I've never seen anything look like that before. I don't really think I'll ever see anything like that again, to be honest."

It took Pete a while to respond. Maybe a little too long.

"I wouldn't give your hopes up just yet," he finally said. "You know. I have a feeling that things are going to start looking up for you pretty soon. It seems like a shitty place to say this as well, but part of my job is medicating people and I think I know something that'll help. Like actually help get you better, not just numb you down."

Patrick looked up at Pete who was only slightly smiling. Patrick couldn't help but almost smile back.

He knew medication was a given, but he was still reluctant about it. There was something in the way that Pete had said it though that gave Patrick hope for the better.

Maybe medication wouldn't be too bad if it meant that he got to spend time with Pete too.

Re: There's A Light On In Chicago

It's wonderful! :D

Re: There's A Light On In Chicago

Thank you! I haven't actually written anything to do with FOB before, so I'm glad it's not terrible. xD

Asshole!Frank Iero and Little Shit!Tommy Joe Ratliff wreaking havoc in Christian school together.

Ghoul/Poison. Ghoul's just escaped from BL/IND and he's really, really not okay. He hides it, pretends he's fine, but he's close to breaking down. Poison's too wrapped up in running, and doesn't notice how fragile Ghoul is.

He manages to hide it pretty well from Poison when he's coming down from the pills they gave him at the Industry, but he has trouble with vivid nightmares and flashbacks.

One night it goes to complete shit. What happens next?

there is a wedding and a party and the end of the world. do with this what you wish.

Werewolves are immune to BLInd's medications.

This makes them a threat to society, which means they must be destroyed. All of the surviving packs fled to the Zones a long time ago, where they only know one thing for certain: They need to keep running.


That is such an awesome prompt! O___O


Reprompt this next round and I'll see what I can do.

REPOST: Gabe/Patrick - BDSM

Gabe/Patrick - BDSM

Usage of toys, bounds of some sort, gags, spanking, dom/sub relationship, etc.

...And maybe cuddles and some kissing at the end.

Patrick/ Eric Northman

Van days; the band travels through Louisiana and Patrick is part fairy. Sexy times ensue between Eric and Patrick

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