a picture says 1000 words.

[behindthec]

write them.

what came to mind was "untimely confession."  i pictured a wedding reception.  (those flashbacks from pwf when ry and bren were at the wedding, and they were interrupted by shane?  like that.)  but obv, anything.

still considering starting that comm for people who want real concrit, who want to improve their writing.  i'd probably start moving prompts over there.

p.s. thank you all, so much. every comment and email helped, it really did.  more than you know.  you guys are fantastic.  i'll respond to the emails eventually. <3

ETA: mostly for becca and ally, but, MY BOSS BEING A DORK.  and more!  (i'm only allowed to leave it up for 2 days, so go enjoy.)

Comments

[lolab.livejournal.com]

BAHAHA.

HELL NO, HONEYMOON'S NOT ANGSTY ENOUGH. WRITE ME SOME ANGSTY WEDDING RECEPTION FIC. GO!

[monamour-x.livejournal.com]

EXCUSE ME, SIR.

but if you recall, i am already working on a drunken!ryden (er, bden, whatever) fic AND a spyro for you so GET ONE OF YOUR MANY MINIONS TO DO IT.

jeez. *huffs*

lol <333

[lolab.livejournal.com]

oyes. pls can i have some moar pls? *holds out bowl pitifully*

[monamour-x.livejournal.com]

PUPPPPYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!! that's not fair. :/

here:

Brendon sings.

He sings when he’s sober. He sings when he’s drunk. He sings when he’s showering. He sings when he’s cooking. He sings when he’s watching movies. He sings when he isn’t watching movies. He sings when it’s one in the morning and he can’t sleep so he has to go on top of the tour bus and belt his heart out until one of the guys stumble outside and yell at him to ‘get inside or they’ll end his sorry ass for being so loud’ (usually it’s Ryan). He sings when he eats. He sings when he dreams (August 8th, 2006). It’s what he does. It’s his thing.

So, really, no one is surprised when he plops down at the piano in the middle of the “FBR Love Party” (thank you, Pete) and begins messing around with the keys. It’s really nothing special at first, no specific song or tune to really catch anyone’s attention. It’s just him and the keys, his heart and his mind, playing whatever improvised melodies he comes up with. No one hears. No one notices. They are all too busy talking and laughing and drinking with each other—enjoying one another’s company.

Except Ryan.

He’s sitting to the right of Spencer and Pete, who are having some intense conversation on the likelihood of Spencer dating Pete’s sister. Ryan doesn’t even have to be listening to know that the answer to that is a big, fat NO. And he’s not—listening, that is. At least not to the two musicians to his left.

He is, however, listening to the soft whisper of the piano, singing a subdued song from the corner of the room, lost in the mindless chatter that fills the room like static in the background.

Ryan spares one last glance at his two friends before scratching his arm absently and standing up. Not a single eye in the house glances up to follow him as he makes his way over to Brendon. The singer even doesn’t look up as he approaches, merely scoots down a little, leaving just enough space for a Ryan-sized body to plop down next to him on the piano bench.

For the most part, Brendon remains motionless whenever he plays the piano. It’s an odd change of events, seeing as the hyperactive musician is nearly vibrating with pent up energy most of the time. But, when placed in front of a piano, he is completely still, save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and his arms, trailing across the keys like they were made specifically to do so. It’s practically entrancing, and Ryan finds himself watching the younger boy in awe. The singer looks so different than he did not ten minutes ago—slightly tipsy, barking out laughter at the stupidest things as he nursed the mouth of a Corona Bottle—that it’s almost laughable. No longer sporting a goofy, lazy grin, Brendon’s face is now stoic as he concentrates deeply on the music his hands are creating.

[monamour-x.livejournal.com]

“Beautiful,” Ryan comments, and Brendon’s mouth twitches.

The melody falters and the younger boy lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head and dropping his hands from the piano. He rolls his head to grin widely at Ryan and then giggles to himself, again.

“You’re so strange,” Ryan tells him, rolling his eyes fondly.

“Strange and drunk,” Brendon corrects, then laughs again. Ryan’s not sure if this is something to be pointing out proudly, but he doesn’t say anything and just softly smiles back at his band mate.

“Never a good combo,” Ryan adds.

Brendon makes a face. “I can be stranger, you know, my dear friend Ryan.”

“Well, you can’t be any more drunk,” Ryan mumbles under his breath and Brendon, drunk and distracted, doesn’t hear him. Then, the older boy raises and eyebrow and pretends to study Brendon. It’s another few seconds before he speaks again. “I doubt it,” he concludes.

Brendon just smirks in response. Ryan immediately recognizes that face. It’s the face the singer always gets whenever he feels “put up to a challenge.” It’s his competitive face and, if you ask Ryan, is highly unnecessary under the circumstances.

Placing his hands back on the piano, Brendon shimmies his ass against the bench and gives one last knowing glance in Ryan’s direction before starting out a simple melody. Ryan’s about to ask what the musician is doing, and why he is being so goddamn weird about it, until he recognizes the song. And before he can even begin to protest, Brendon is singing.

[lolab.livejournal.com]

E;LKAJSVJAWR A;EJFP EIOAJ WPOIRJ APWOIJAPOI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE IT. why do you always write what i love. i love you. moar. nao. pls. need. NEED MOAR.

[monamour-x.livejournal.com]

*yawns* *stretches* *snuggles*

bed now...long day...no energy...so sleepy...

tomorrows friday...means lots of time to write, mmkay? that should make you smile. :)

love you, too. <3