Dear Patrick Stump,

Okay, so both Pete Wentz and Frank Iero are married. This knowledge spoils a whole lot of my hopes for your gay future, I don’t mind saying. I realize that you could potentially be gay with any number of stunningly attractive or even quite ordinary young men, of course. However, I am a bit particular in regards to your gay requirements, and thus concerned. (See list below).

Patrick Stump’s Gay Requirements, According to stungunbilly

• Short. He’s got to be wee enough to make eye contact with Mr. Stump.
• Unconventionally hot, or unconventional and hot. Tattoos a plus. May need but refuse to wear glasses.
• Charming and witty, or thinks he’s charming and witty. Should angle for the limelight, in any case, thus sparing P. stress.
• Musician of some sort, preferably with an appreciation for soul music, but at least involved enough to spend many hours in technical discussions (without trying to gnaw off own leg).
• Should be adored by women, thus ensuring some sort of vetting process for likely douchebag behaviors. (And yes, Microsoft spell check, douchebag  should be run together like that. It’s colloquial, vile software minion of Bill Gates.)
• Should be bisexual, if possible, and thereby contribute to the many moments of sexual confusion we expect to discern in our celebrities.
• Absolutely must adore The Stump, without discretion or subtlety.

I need a list of possible candidates, stat.

Enormous Respect for Your Professional Demeanor in the Face of Gay Drought,
stungunbilly (the 3rd)

Like a fish with a purple elephant head, I've been feeling a little at odds with myself.

Let me make a nice list on the subject. I've been:

1. Consuming more published works than fan works; and more weirdly, almost as much visual media or audio books as written works.
   
2. Getting a bit ambitious in my work. Still working on a plan for school.
   
3. Biking around the neighborhood of an evening for fun alone.
4. Taking up interest in houseplants, especially orchids. My work desk is a little paradise, now!
   
5. Actually spending more online time playing Kingdom of Loathing (www.kingdomofloathing.com) than reading anything.
   

But the balance has been restored. I read a really enjoyable Clark/Lex story by bagheera_san, and fell for Clark and Lex again for maybe the fifth time. "Inseparable" was written for a contest by PL Nunn, and whisks the boys to a mythical land where they are, naturally, handcuffed together with special cuffs, which thankfully prevent Clark from ruining the plotline with his powers. Faced with pretty boys bathing in rivers and the forced proximity of passionate enemies, the convincing balance of hostility and repressed desire, and Pam's pretty pictures, can anyone blame me for  my deep appreciation of the Lemurian leadership?

Oh! And I also have just this moment watched up through episode 9 of 11 of Zettai Kareshi. Which I really love, in the most sincere and non-cynical way. I was probably warped by reading I, Robot at a very young age.

Zettai Kareshi includes:

1. A love robot, utterly handsome and devoted. Perhaps a little overenthusiastic.
2. A lonely young woman, sincere and sweet, yet downtrodden. She can make delicious pastries when not angsting over her failures in romance.
3. A young heir to a fortune he has no interest in, with a strong emotional attachment to really good cream puffs.
4, A mad scientist with a genuine fondness for his creation.
5. A kindly, wise bar owner, who hires anyone who is at loose ends in the plot.
6. Random unkind yet potentially salvageable people, including:
       a. A false friend, who enjoys dating only those who belong to others.
       b. A cranky brother, given to eating cake with an extremely constipated expression.
       c. A desperate housewife  landlady, who really ought to get her own lovebot, since she's funnier than the heroine.
       d. Evil corporate "chiefs", ready to throw aside the creation of worthwhile goods in favor of profits.

And more!

It's adorable.

Now I crave Japanese television. Arigato gozaimashita, zany Japanese tv execs.

We had a pretty huge fire here this week; the whole town smelled like smoke. My place is fine, far from the mountains, but the county is overtaxed with expenses and it won't be good for anyone local. It was par for the course, really, as the week was full of unpleasant events that could have been worse but still sucked. Case in point: my first negative fortune cookie fortune ever read, " Today your mouth is moving but nobody is listening." Cheery!

I've been online very little, have in fact been reading actual books and riding my bike, even watching a bit of television when not doing the necessary. Most of my online time has gone into my favorite game, Kingdom of Loathing. Great distraction from stress, and I am glad of it.

The Dresden Files novels are enjoyable so far. Well, the first one is, which is as far as I've gotten. I haven't started the television version yet, but I plan to do so. There is definitely slashy potential in the book, but I like the most prominent woman character enough to want to read het in the series as well for a change.

Black Books is silly and funny and very, very slashy. I love that the episodes are less than 25 minutes long, the perfect length for a funny break. Manny is adorable, but I enjoy Bernard and Fran immensely. Every episode is a surreal set up for some ridiculous punchline.  I don't recommend it to recovering alcoholics or their children, though. Not quite as triggering as Poppy Z. Brite, but then nothing is.

Avatar continues enjoyable, with an upgrade to somewhat intriguing.

So, flist, how's by you? Also, if I missed any comments, I apologize; I've not been able to check my email often. I will answer everything, non-scout's honor.

The Wentz has done the deed. Not surprising, somehow. I hope they are happy and healthy and boring, for their sakes, and if they aren't it'll be interesting grist for some mill somewhere, undoubtedly. Good luck, Wentz!

My favorite bit of fan fiction dealing with the wedding is the mild non-story story of Ryan Ross and the topiary, found here. linzeestyle is a funny person. And possibly was hiding in the bushes, or inside Ryan's man-purse.

In the less bandomy portion of today's news, Flight of the Conchords is quite hilarious and also very slashy, and may well be at least somewhat about us.

Today the California Supreme Court acted justly and legalized gay marriage!!!

I love my state.

I've been especially vagabondish lately, faithful to no fandom at all, even Jack Harkness. In fact, for the first time in close to a decade, I'm not primarily in fannish things when online. It's kind of weird, and I don't expect it to last. Not a single impulse to craft a story or write, and that's particularly weird, although I've been feeling creative about decorating and, of all things, my clothes. I'm not generally one of the world's shoppers, but anyone can have a weird month.

What I'm finding myself doing in my online time is following -ism debates, researching health and body image issues, and reading meta and the comprehensive text w/links of various kefuffles with an eye to sociological analysis. I'm just as into it as I usually am into fannish materials, which is really weird.

This sort of thing has happened before, and it will most likely pass quickly, but I'm going with it because I always use my leisure time for things that stimulate me.

I have been watching more tv than usual, but not much.

Here are some of the shows/books/comics I've been reading/listening to/watching:

• La Femme Nikita. Just the first few eps so far, and I'm enjoying it far more than I expected to. I really like Nikita, and want to read femmeslash about her if I can find the right pairing. This may not last, as the larger picture of the show is creepily authoritarian in many ways and also sexist and just plain irritating with the giant plot holes. But I like Nikita. I kind of want her to end up wiping out the unit and escaping to become a librarian or something in another country. Or maybe a travelling musician as part of a band.
  
• Hellblazer. Oh, John Constantine.
  
• Jennifer Crusie. Not my thing, clearly. She makes me cringe a lot.
  
• Philip Pullman. Cool, intriguing ideas, interesting characters, lucid prose, dynamic storytelling. Obnoxiously elitist, but I can take it.
  
• Weeds. Hmm. I really enjoy some elements, but there is a lot that pushes me past interested into very uncomfortable, and it isn't the main plot. Not ready to form a solid opinion yet.
  
• This interesting article on wearing shoes vs. going barefoot: "You Walk Wrong".
  
• The infamous Boob Project and fallout. What an absolutely abhorrent social context  and verbal category screwup. I was deeply concerned at how this would affect con culture and the safety and happiness of fans. But the many, many intelligent analyses and responses from especially women but also men made me feel much better.  I wish we could have spared his use of the term "Open Source", however, since I consider the Open Source software development concept to be one of the best social and intellectual movements of the last twenty years. 
• Various kerfuffles (you all know which ones). I will say here, however, that it is "kerfuffle", not "kerfluffle", and though a thousand errors should change that in the lexicon, to me it shall always be wrong. Oh, and furthermore? "Nonplussed" means "surprised and confused". Not "unruffled". Here endeth the lesson.
  
• Posts on race in bandom. Yeah, we always need a little improvement. Reminders help keep me conscious.
• The Fatosphere. So intriguing! Fat people rock.
• Craft/food/stuff books.
• Science! I love science, like a Rodney loves cake. Lately it's been Cosmos with Carl Sagan. Such an awesome ubergeek guy.
• Avatar. You'll be shocked to know it's about the One Boy Who Can Save the World. It's also funny and cute and has nice artwork. I also like all of the characters. The fight animation is pretty sweet, too.

I've also been running about outside a lot. And I have a new bike, which I adore passionately and may write object slash about at some point.

So, how's by you?

Running around a lot, and doing things a lot, but I jotted this down after watching Doctor Who and Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang.
I was trying to figure out what was in Jack's head.


Now to clean my filthy, filthy hair. Mmm, shower. And breakfast!

Also: WTF, Pete Wentz?!
I've really missed saying that.

I've been all but completely absent for the last, oh, month or so. I have actually spent very (relatively) little time online, and what time I did spend was primarily reading Torchwood/Who fiction or making sure everyone on the flist was still ticking along. I left a bunch of unfinished projects in the dust (sorry rue_quercus!), and yet though I feel regretful of flakiness, it was still mostly a good thing.

Rediscovering the world of exercise has been fantastic. Having pulled a muscle in my abdominal wall around the end of October '07, I was unable to do any kind of workout for MONTHS. I still had to work and keep up my home, but all of it was very painful and rather aggravating to do. But finally in early Feb. the doctor gave me the green light to start walking and dancing and etc. again.

It was none too soon, as I'd been packing on weight and feeling horrible. That wasn't all bad, though, because it led me to interest in the Health at Every Size movement, also known as the Fat Acceptance movement (thank you flisters who linked!). It has been a revelation. What time I had online these last two weeks has been spent reading up on fat issues and the CDC and it's current (Bush-appointed! What a shock.) head, who not only mis-represents her research results but outright lies about statistics. (There is a big difference between 25,000 deaths and 400,000 in a year, wouldn't you agree? The AMA actually debunked her, but strangely enough the headlines show no sign of that happening.)

It's been strange, working out and eating carefully to regrow muscle and get fit again, and simultaneously getting more comfortable with weight gain and learning to forgive my body it's vulnerabilities. Kate Harding at Shapely Prose is a hero to me. The SO has been working out and listening sweetly to the whole FA/HAES enthusiasm, too. I think there was a little relief that I had found something besides Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, or Captain Jack Harkness to talk about.

So here I've been walking and dancing, buying fitting clothes (thanks again, HAES people!) and getting interested in cooking for both taste and nutrition again. Now I'm intrigued by yoga, and thinking seriously about joining a gym. Mostly I like to get my exercise outdoors or at home where it's convenient and less evitable, but it would be nice to have access to machines.

Anyone a member at a gym? What franchise? What do you like and/or hate about it? Do you use the membership enough to make it worthwhile?

Hey, folks, this is kind of freaky. It's an article about prescription drugs in drinking water. Apparently it's not just the military and non-prescription drugs.

Dear Bandom,

It's not you, it's me.

Well, okay, it's partly you. I mean, sometimes you scare me silly. I like to believe you'd never beat me, but I've seen the bruises on some of your old flames, so...

But it's not about that. It's... This is harder to say than I thought it would be.

I've met someone else.

Don't get me wrong! I'm not LEAVING you. For every secret hate meme, you've got a Patrick Stump, a Frank Iero, or a Jamia Nestor. Sometimes you make me twist inside with tenderness, even while I'm squirming over another embarrassing thing you've said. You're in my heart, now.

It's just, I haven't felt this way in so long. I keep finding myself staying up late at night, thinking about this other fandom. It's bright and wonderful, heroic in unexpected ways, and it calls to every part of me. I knew I'd get along with it, but I never thought I'd be this swept away.

I know it'll never really love me back completely, but three little words can make me forget that. Three little words that mean adventure, and excitement, and all the riches of the universe. So I still care about you, bandom, I still want to be with you, it's just.

Captain Jack Harkness.

I know you'll understand.

Be Back before I Left (Probably),
stungunbilly

Aaaaaand, back to no sleep and way behind.

I'm happy, though; just bleary-eyed and susceptible. I've had time to read very little, I'm too sleepy to write anything but crack which will never get posted, but my house is no longer so scary and the workload is blessedly up to date. I think the cat has remembered that I am sometimes ambulatory when at home, too.

I did get to watch The Devil Wears Prada, which, wow. I love Meryl Streep, but I am so not a fashion person. It all seemed so funny to me, even the parts where I was supposed to cringe. Like, poor fat A. Hathaway! In her uber-frumpy... prep outfit! If those people came to California, they would all spontaneously combust (and not even make much ash) when they saw the glorified pajamas some of us Leftians wear as business attire. I mean, Andy had on lipstick! And clothes over every part of her body! Clearly haute couture.

I'm also suddenly femmeslash-obsessed. The golden glorious realization struck me suddenly last night at 3AM; nobody writes my pairings AND my favorite tropes. At least THAT I KNOW OF. So since I couldn't sleep anyway I googled, and lo! 

Now I have Andy/Miranda and Faith/Kate and Kaylee/River to read, and am clammishly happy. But, yeah, also a zombie.

Braaaaaains. 

Because they gave me weekends.

I was a zombie all week, and last night my system flipped me the bird, around 6PM, and crashed until around noon today. Now I feel human again! It's marvelous. I almost forgot I normally am a pretty energetic person.

I'm so far behind on replies and email and the flist, so I apologize to anyone and everyone to whom I owe a response. First thing I have to do is clean my home, so that the SO doesn't: A. Run away which, no or B. think we live in a cave and it's okay to leave detritus where it falls. I'm holding myself to a really mellow standard, though, so I don't fail to have some time for the important things, like writing and reading about writing (which I never before had any urge to do, what do you know) and also trying to catch up just a little.

If I spend a little time defeating the Naughty Sorceress in the Kingdom of Loathing, who is to judge?

hth_the_first has linked to an interview that I hope everyone I know will read. I will need to research this fellow more thoroughly, but at a glance this is consistent with things I have heard from a variety of sources. Freedom of religion in our armed forces is fundamental to all of the other freedoms in America, and certainly affects the rest of the world in various ways. It can't hurt to pray for this guy and his struggle, whatever your faith may be. Or maybe more than pray.

Apparently I have lost my mind. Having escaped the vicissitudes of academia once, I am actually, willingly considering returning to it. Meep.

My transcripts are a mess, I went to a university which didn't generally give letter grades at the time, and who knows if I'll even get in? Not me. Especially since I'm practically having a panic attack just reading through the application forms. Joining a band is looking better and better.

I plan to give it a shot, though. That Masters is looking pretty good professionally, and I have hopefully learned a thing or two since my undergraduate days. I'm certainly going to find attendance easier, since I'll be taking most of my classes online (hopefully.) That is, of course, if I get accepted. I wonder if lying down and begging them to only look at my first 200 course units will work?

How does one explain to a board of judgy judgers that, yes, one was stricken by what one later recognized as serious depression for the last few years of college life, but one is generally a good egg and valuable student? And that the combination of "not turned in", "poor attendance", and "excellent understanding and analysis" is actually a triumph of the human spirit?

I'll set up an aca-filter if it looks like I'll need to break down in tears on the internet frequently.

Wish me luck.

I'm napping tonight, bigtime. Don't do anything too amazing while I'm gone, okay?

rue_quercus , I"m still very much yes with the Black Parade plan. I will hopefully nap enough this evening to not be a zombie by tomorrow evening. I have more thoughts, and I'm hoping to seed a dream. Wouldn't that be cool? I'm going to try, at least.

Meanwhile, have some amazingly young and adorable Stephen Colbert, aka The Ballsiest Man in America.

I had a stressful Wednesday, and wrote this during my lunch. It is what it is.

Disclaimer:
The following piece of short fiction isn't an actual story, more a short set of mutually-related ideas. It's also very much not true. Please skip it if it's about you.

Oh, and for anyone who doesn't already know, this is Ryan Ross. He's the guitarist for Panic! at the Disco, and he writes the lyrics. Brendon Urie is the lead singer. He can play several instruments as well. Aren't they pretty? The other two guys in the band are the drummer, Spencer Smith, and the new bassist, Jon Walker. This is Ryan's cult.

Dear Anonymous Candy Heart Sender,

You made my day!
There was stress, and tension, and an unexpected meeting on Wednesday. I was anxious, and nail-bitey, and wound too tightly to write anything but Ryan Ross' co-dependent fixation on the Brendon rumors. Sleep was tricky, and the morning came too soon.
But today, there were candy hearts.

Somehow, it's all rainbows again.
 
Chalky, colorful candy love,
stungunbilly

1. ethrosdemon has posted a picture of Brendon "Big Poppa" Urie in the shower, wet, with another boy. It's beautiful. NON PRE-BANDOM FOLKS GO LOOK. I SWEAR IT WON'T INFECT YOU AND IT'S PRETTY.

2. The Kingdom of Loathing. An adventurer is you! (and me, because I SO RULE THIS GAME. I just took down the Filthworm Queen in one swift and sure blow.) AuK, was it you who first set me on this path? I think it might have been. If so, I thank you. This is the ultimate game for text-people who like stick figure graphics and silly yet funny Gen X &Y jokes. Every day it reaffirms my geekitude.

3. The Brotherhood II. Wow. I have this to say about it:





SEKRIT NOTE: Yes, I have been drinking caffeinated beverages again. Oops.
Oh, and rue_quercus: Thinking about writing the Black Parade thing seriously. More ideas welcome.

The sky is trying to sweep my town out to sea today. No telling how long the power is going to last, so I'm posting while the posting's good.
Now that the Frank/Patrick story has been posted, I could theoretically be working on the therapy story, or the supernatural au, or the possible Fastlane short. I could even be catching up (I am SO BEHIND) on my flist. Instead, we keep losing power, and I am checking over emergency supplies and alternatively napping with the cat.
If I owe you comments or replies or (fragilistikal) that one scene I was planning on sending this evening, well. Keep your fingers crossed.

P.S. Storms are SO AWESOME YAY.
Also, maybe I should post a story on an actual community again one day? Hmm.

Okay, finally trying to place everything in one convenient location. This was written eons ago for one of oxoniensis' challenges, and largely because foxmonkey is so lovely.

There are a number of possible versions of this story floating around; one is much longer and angstier, and resolves into different pairings. Another is lighter and sillier, generally more fun. This is quite probably the first of two stories, but it may be changed or deleted or re-posted at some point, depending on my mood and whether or not Frank grows his hair out, and/or Pete Wentz changes the world in some unpredictable way.

Make suggestions if you feel so moved! Any kind, and whether I follow them or not, I will definitely read them carefully and take your input seriously.

I actually think quite highly of both Mr. Iero and Mr. Stump, and their behavior in this story in no way reflects my view of their actual maturity levels, Frank in particular.

To the non-bandom folks on the flist: thanks for being so patient with my latest infatuation. I'm watching Fastlane and warming up to SG:A again this week, so there may be other content soon. In particular, I want to do a "Things I've Learned" in SGA RPS sometime this month. Suggestions or thoughts on the subject would be embraced.

Anyone around for a beta? I've got a draft of one possible version of the Frank/Patrick story. 

But for now, since I can't post *good* writing, or even recs (although, just a side-note; if you love Bob Bryar and GSF, check out xanphibian's insanely funny MCR Bob-buster) I'm going to post horrible last lines.  (The SO and I made a list of heinous story enders, and so you lucky people get the last five.)

Yay for sneaking off to stealth post!
I've managed to get in a tiny bit of writing time; mostly on the Frank/Patrick sex thing, but a tiny piece of the therapy story and well. This quick little piece.

I'm going to be travelling around for the next four or five days, with only occasional net access, so if I need to reply to you or am not responding, that's what's happening. The SO and I are going to eat fudge and cinnamon toast and parent food, and also hopefully spread a little love around. It's been an amazing roller-coaster year in chez stungunbilly, and some of the happiest things have come from you folks on the flist.
Thanks, so much, for everything.
I hope you all have a really wonderful whatever-you-celebrate-or-don't, and happy slash/het/gen-ing to everybody. See you next week!

I may have consumed just a bit too much caffeine again today. Every time I do this I comment all over the place, if I get any 'net time, and then the next day I turn bright red when I see how, erm. Giddy I have become.
Most people drink The Booze and post, but I am much more likely to post excessively shameful stuff under the influence of too much soda/coffee/chocolate/herbal extracts that act like caffeine. I look at pictures of Brendon Urie with Red Bull and think, yeah, that boy doesn't really need that, does he? I bet he isn't allowed near computers when he's on that stuff.
Fortunately for me, work is crazy-crazy and other things are demanding a lot of time, so my window of opportunity for posting is limited. I keep trying to get enough time in to finish the Frank/Patrick short that has distracted me from the Pete/Patrick therapy story, and I'll write, like, one paragraph and then have to stop and go do Life Stuff. It's sad.
I really want to spend about an hour right now, writing Frank doing kinky things to Patrick.

Oh, this meme is going around. I'll defy my own conventions, and participate.

If you had me under your command and could make me write anything, regardless of whether or not I know the fandom or if anybody even writes fic in that fandom and no matter how crack-addled it might be, what would you love to see me write?

No promises, but I should get a day or two off soon.

Since I posted something with only subtext, I'm going to post my comment shorts here.
Maybe one of these days I should actually post my SGA John/Ronon comment response in my own journal, too. Hmm.

Unrelatedly, here are pictures of Ryan Ross doing stuff that, frankly, looks fun to me, but also a little creepy. Kind of like me writing about him having sex, when I think about it. Thanks to ethrosdemon    for the link.

~
~

Pulled some more bits and pieces into vaguely post-able shape. I really want a beta for Chanakwanzaamastice. THIS IS NOT REALLY A STORY BECAUSE IT HAS NO SEX IN IT. Also, no gay only subtext. These are the boys who show up in the short piece below: Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, Andy Hurley, Joe Trohman, Bob Bryar. No geese were injured during the production.
Also, some of this may be true, but not on purpose.

ETA: Okay, fine. Here's something a little raunchy, because technosage is just that cool and Kassie gives great prompts.

I am dizzy with attachment to the latest bit of whimsy from the keyboard of impertinence. My heart is fuzzy and leaping with a sort of ridiculous exaltation, and hey, yours should be too! Gerard Way is a ghost hunter, and so is Mikey Way, and they suck at hunting, but with so much charm. Frank Iero is the vampire who saves them from themselves and less charming dangers as well, and I'm not even telling you the best part.
Go forth! Seize joy! Here.
But do read the warnings.

Bad News:
Terry Pratchett has developed early-onset Alzheimer's. I adore the man's mind, and this made me terribly sad today.

Weird News:
South Korean scientists clone glow-in-the-dark cats. I'm not kidding. See?

In less traumatic news, Pete Wentz is still beautiful even when he's dancing on broken limbs, not getting enough sleep, and taking pain killers. Here's a sample of him in this state:



I have part of maybe two, maybe six stories written. I'm not sure, exactly, I just know that I can't put it all together yet. There's the story that explains why Patrick is a slob compared to, for instance, Bob, but a neat freak compared to half of his band. And there's the story about Patrick thinking, after reading the Advocate article, that maybe Pete's constant provocations aren't flirting after all but actually mean Pete hates him. Then there's the one where Patrick decides that, now Pete is apparently heterosexual, he can join in the fun stage gay without it being a big deal. Then there's the one about how Frank and Patrick have this intense sexual affair but really can't get along in any other way. That last is just in the planning stage, though, and since I can't make them end up together in my mind will have to involve Pete and Gerard plotting evilly (and successfully) to break them up. (Which, okay, I love the idea of. Kassie, was it you who said Gerard is all sarcasm? I love that way of seeing him, it makes good story.) I just want to hide in a cave with my laptop and write, and have Patrick-shaped elves bring me hot chocolate and rub my feet until I have made all of these ideas conform to my needs.