mywholecry: (jenny owen youngs <3)
my birthday was good. we played croquet and hunted easter eggs, then went to knoxville to see arrested development at sundown in the city. i got a stuffed animal and unicorn bandages and a birthday gnome and origami male genitalia that my friends made out of flyers that some creepy evangelist gave us.

spring break starts today. i'll be doing nothing much, except for shopping and using temporary hair dye to look like a hipster at next week's sundown. and i'll be going to this, because it's wonderful.

too tired to capitilize or function.

still smell like other people's pot.

downloading mcr's cover of "desolation row" from watchmen and going to take a very long shower.

Mood:: lovely
Music:: when the day met the night -panic at the disco
mywholecry: (spencer smith your fucking face)


The opening acts for The Academy Is... thursday ended up being Evan Taubenfeld, the guitarist from Avril Lavigne’s band (his music was. . .uhm, better than Avril Lavigne? It didn’t suck, but it’s not my thing. He was funny, though, and offered to have sex with anyone who bought three of his t-shirts, so), and Empires (who kind of rock). We actually didn’t know for sure if Empires was there or not, because apparently they were replacing another band, which led to fun, excited fangirling in the crowd while we were waiting for someone to announce it.

RANDOM GIRL: Wait, what? Empires? Tom Conrad? Tom. Fucking. Conrad?
ME: Tomrad’s here? What?

it turns out that all of Empires had laryngitis, but they played through it very well, even if they did kind of look like they were dying a little )
Mood:: 'exhausted' exhausted
Music:: Mouth Full Of Bones -Natalie Portman's Shaved Head
mywholecry: (regina)
HAPPY EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY TO [ profile] noneedofcrepe ! Go buy cigarettes and lottery tickets and porn!

I wrote an eensy, g-rated Dead Poets drabble, which is weird, because originally I intended to write nc17-rated Harry Potter, but it. . .didn't happen.

Title from a line in Cormac McCarthy's crazy post-apocalyptic novel: The Road

if he is not the word of god (then god never spoke)
Dead Poets Society; 200ish words; Neil/Todd preslash; G

It's at the meeting one night, when Todd feels his heart swell and break all at once.  )
mywholecry: (spencer smith your fucking face)
I’m going to a The Academy Is... concert next week in Knoxville. And I just realized that I’m the least scene person ever, so I’m having a clothingdilemma. Which is weird for me, because I tend to just throw things on and be, like: “. . .fashion? Fashion!” with jazz hands and shit, though I only do jazz hands, like many other things, in the privacy of my own home.  

I own a lot of cardigans and flats and pearls, and I inherit clothes from great grandmothers and thrift stores and occasionally my brother. Generally, I look like I’m twelve years old going on a healthy sixty five.

So, currently, for the concert, I have a Death Cab t-shirt and copious amounts of eyeliner. Kerri actually owns an Academy t-shirt, and Mamie owns many a pair of skinny jeans (someday, when I can wear them with no poetic irony involved, I swear to god it’s happening), so I might have to go stand with the parents of the little thirteen-year-old scene kids  who hang out in the back, talking about the good all days before all these crazy emo bands starting seducing their children to the ways of straight-edge teen angst.

Mood:: 'aggravated' aggravated
Music:: Silver Lining -Rilo Kiley
mywholecry: (Default)
I know now why people who have to walk home from school are angry all the time. It’s because fuckers with cars throw half-full cans of Mountain Dew at your head and ten-year-old boys sexually harass you from school buses.

High school sucks. One year and forty-ish more days until I leave this place.

mywholecry: (ianto)

I wish I had taken a picture of my face after I finished watching this movie, because I swear to god, mascara streaked and everything. Much recommended.

(Also, cookie booths are over! I go back to spending all of my free time freaking out over William Faulkner and writing things in Southern dialect.)

Music:: lazy line painter jane -belle & sebastian
Mood:: 'awake' awake
mywholecry: (Default)
RACHEL: The next person who ignores me is getting beaten to death with a box of cookies.
ME: *consults boxes* Thin Mints weigh the most! I bet if we throw one and hit them in the neck at the right place, we could totally paralyze them!

That is what Girl Scouts discuss when you ignore them.

Also, I know I mentioned National Treasure fic last weekend, but I’m dead with cookies and math and exhaustion and SEVEN THOUSAND NEW FRECKLES and can’t find all the pages. So someday. But not today, because it’s 7:00, and I’m going to take a fucking nap.
mywholecry: (it goes ding when there's stuff)

Three things!

+ I start attempting to sell girl scout cookies to unwilling consumers today. Watch out.

+ I accidentally started writing a bandom Grand Ole Opry AU as a joke the other day, and it sort of turned epic. I don't know how many bandom people I have on my flist, but. . .Brendon Urie escapes a crazy Baptist household in Knoxville and hitchhikes to Nashville. Spencer Smith is basically just Spencer Smith with an awesome accent, because he needs no alterations. Ryan Ross is the most flamboyant cowboy ever. Jon Walker's smile is made of sunshine and rainbows. Pete Wentz owns the Opry, but Patrick Stump actually runs it. Oh, and My Chemical Romance is a kickass alt-country band. Seriously, it's ridiculous, and I love it.

+Sometime in the coming weekend, I might post a National Treasure fic in which Riley is an Obama fanboy and attempts to fabricate conspiracy theories so they can go meet him. It's quick and sort of adorable (I can't break into Barack Obama's blackberry! I-I love him!) and also the product of not doing trig homework when I really, really should have been doing trig homework.

Music:: when the day met the night -panic at the disco
Mood:: 'geeky' geeky
mywholecry: (Default)
I'm reposting this here, since our secret identities have been revealed at fandomcommerce, and what better way to celebrate an upcoming Valentine's Day than disfunctional porn?

Title: Every Breath We Drew
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Remus/Sirius, Remus/Regulus, Sirius/Regulus
Word Count: 2,500
Warnings: Sex, angst, Blackcest, language, underage people doing things with other underage people
Notes: written for bloodredsummer, in fandomcommerce. Completely ignores all Regulus canon from Deathly Hallows. Library sex inspired by Atonement.

waxing candles and burning cobwebs )


Music:: you could write a book -someone still loves you, boris yeltsin
Mood:: 'content' content
location: horizontal, on the sofa, with pre-valentines angst chocolate
mywholecry: (pearls)

This is for [ profile] moony_luna , who is sixteen today and is also, like, my favorite. She wanted it, and I’ve had a week off school for snow. This how all Great Art is born (HAPPY BIIIIIRTHDAY, DEAR)

Title: never truly hated anyone or anything
Pairing: Jenny Owen Youngs/Regina Spektor
Rating: R (mostly for language)
Word Count: 1800
Warnings: RPF, femmeslash, language, alcohol
Disclaimer: if you got here by googling your own name, CLICK OUT NOW. NOW. Seriously. Otherwise, these are obviously fictionalized accounts of things that totally didn’t happen, and I mean no harm to either mentioned parties, only fangirl love and affection.
Summary: "Go propose to Regina." Bess says and hangs up on her. Jenny drops the phone and stares at it in horror. Bess is beyond perceptive, she thinks. Bess can read minds.
Notes: I could have expanded on this more, probably, and it’s a little rough, but, overall, I’m happy with how it turned out. Oh, and this is my contribution to the existence of indie bandom, which should happen.


she's a dying breed, she's a dying breed )

I will never be uncomfortable with RPF now, since I wrote this and I’ve been binging on Panic bandom for the past three weeks. I’m a few steps away from being completely without shame.

Music:: 20 Years Of Snow - Regina Spektor
Mood:: 'crazy' crazy


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