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Jul. 3rd, 2004 11:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsI thought this comment problem was over but I guess not considering that I didn't get half of mine for one entry.
We're heading off to the kite festival today, or at least we're supposed to be. It's pouring down right now and if it doesn't stop soon the festival will be a wash out. We'll go somewhere though, Corey had an excellent report card yesterday so we're celebrating.
I have more ficlets for you poor people. I've decided not to put any of these on my site, maybe I'll shove them in memories, I don't know *shrugs*
Lastly, I have to join in with the people who downloaded the Firefox browser, tabs are great!
Okay, these are for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jaciesplace The first is sort of a joke we have going, so if it's cracked out it's meant to be *g*
“This is stupid,” Justin complains bitterly and Lance doesn’t blame him. He hasn’t looked in a mirror since putting on his own outfit. The clown suit looked bad enough on the hanger, he doesn’t need to know what it looks like when he’s wearing it.
They’re all used to cracked out themes for photo-shoots but this one beats them all hands down. At times Lance wonders what they’ve signed up for. They all want fame but the mentality of any publicity is good publicity is wearing thin, especially when they have days like this.
Foreign magazines seem to thrive on insane ideas, and they have to do them all, however ridiculous they’re made to look. As soon as they’d seen the outfits they’d known today was going to be one of those shoots. At the time Lance had thought nothing could be worse than Chris and Joey’s pantomime cow costume, then he’d seen JC’s dame dress and his own garish clown outfit.
The photographer had enthusiastically talked about unifying the different areas of performance but Lance suspects he really wants to humiliate them, especially when he walked away laughing and talking rapidly in German with his assistant.
“I’m not coming out.”
Grimacing as the stiff ruffled collar stuck in his chin yet again, Lance looks at the screen where Justin uncharacteristically went to change. “You have to come out, we’re late as it is.” Carefully walking in his huge shoes, Lance pulls the screen aside and is immediately glad of the thick make-up that lines his face, that way Justin won’t see how red he gets as he tries to stop his laughter.
Justin is dressed in a pink tutu and leotard and his long legs are covered by pink shiny tights. He looks alternately furious and embarrassed and Lance feels bad for him, but he also knows they have to do this shoot, however stupid it is.
“It’s not that bad, at least you don’t have to wear fake breasts like JC,” Lance lies quickly as he fights the urge to poke at the tutu that sticks out at a right angle from Justin’s waist. “Come on, you know we have to do this. You don’t want Lou on our back do you?”
Lance hates using Lou as a threat, but it works as Justin walks from the room with a dignified grace that’s pure Timberlake. The others laugh of course, it’s stupid to think they won’t but after the initial burst of laughter is over they settle down, knowing they all look as bad.
Later, after Lance has done his individual shots with buckets of confetti and a tiny car he has to wedge inside, he sits on the sidelines, laughing as JC adjusts his fake breasts that are obviously lopsided.
“We’ll forget about this one day won’t we?” JC asks hopefully, and Lance shrugs. They might forget about the things they were made to do one day, but he doesn’t think so. How can they when pictures will exist of Justin sitting on a low stool, all long pink legs and scowling face as he pretends to milk a cow that’s distinctively shorter at the front than the back. Things like that will never be forgotten.
The second is
Justin leans in, a sliver of tongue visible between his slightly parted lips, and carefully draws another line. He’s so close Lance can feel each exhaled breath, and see every flaw of his skin, not that there’s many, this is Justin after all.
“Keep still,” Justin says softly, and the words glide over Lance, making him shiver at the sensation as the final line is drawn. “You’re done.”
Justin steps back, looking satisfied, then carefully places the pencil on the dresser before impatiently grabbing Lance’s t-shirt and pulling until he stands up. “Come and see. It looks good.”
Lance has no choice but to follow, and he blinks his eyes which feel hot and heavy as they stand side by side in front of the mirror. His first impulse is to scrub away the black that lines his eyes. He looks ridiculous, like a child playing dress-up and he brings up his fists, ready to rub away the evidence.
“Don’t,” Justin wraps his hand around Lance’s and pushes it back down. “You look good. I promise.”
Unsure, Lance looks at himself again, seeing the carefully smudged eyeliner that Justin laboured over, and the hint of colour that stains his lids. Even his lashes are different, black instead of blond and they seem longer somehow, darkening his eyes. The contrast between his pale complexion and even paler hair is jarring and Lance looks at himself, trying to understand what Justin sees.
“You’re so hot,” Justin says, and without looking away from their reflections, he runs his thumb under Lance’s eyes, gently brushing against long lashes.
Justin takes an audible breath, and Lance is amazed once more that he can affect him like this. Taking another look at himself he still thinks that he looks strange, but Justin obviously doesn’t agree and Lance is willing to trust his judgement.
“Come on,” pushing Justin toward the bed, Lance looks at the make-up spread across the dresser. “I want to do you now.”
We're heading off to the kite festival today, or at least we're supposed to be. It's pouring down right now and if it doesn't stop soon the festival will be a wash out. We'll go somewhere though, Corey had an excellent report card yesterday so we're celebrating.
I have more ficlets for you poor people. I've decided not to put any of these on my site, maybe I'll shove them in memories, I don't know *shrugs*
Lastly, I have to join in with the people who downloaded the Firefox browser, tabs are great!
Okay, these are for
jaciesplace The first is sort of a joke we have going, so if it's cracked out it's meant to be *g*“This is stupid,” Justin complains bitterly and Lance doesn’t blame him. He hasn’t looked in a mirror since putting on his own outfit. The clown suit looked bad enough on the hanger, he doesn’t need to know what it looks like when he’s wearing it.
They’re all used to cracked out themes for photo-shoots but this one beats them all hands down. At times Lance wonders what they’ve signed up for. They all want fame but the mentality of any publicity is good publicity is wearing thin, especially when they have days like this.
Foreign magazines seem to thrive on insane ideas, and they have to do them all, however ridiculous they’re made to look. As soon as they’d seen the outfits they’d known today was going to be one of those shoots. At the time Lance had thought nothing could be worse than Chris and Joey’s pantomime cow costume, then he’d seen JC’s dame dress and his own garish clown outfit.
The photographer had enthusiastically talked about unifying the different areas of performance but Lance suspects he really wants to humiliate them, especially when he walked away laughing and talking rapidly in German with his assistant.
“I’m not coming out.”
Grimacing as the stiff ruffled collar stuck in his chin yet again, Lance looks at the screen where Justin uncharacteristically went to change. “You have to come out, we’re late as it is.” Carefully walking in his huge shoes, Lance pulls the screen aside and is immediately glad of the thick make-up that lines his face, that way Justin won’t see how red he gets as he tries to stop his laughter.
Justin is dressed in a pink tutu and leotard and his long legs are covered by pink shiny tights. He looks alternately furious and embarrassed and Lance feels bad for him, but he also knows they have to do this shoot, however stupid it is.
“It’s not that bad, at least you don’t have to wear fake breasts like JC,” Lance lies quickly as he fights the urge to poke at the tutu that sticks out at a right angle from Justin’s waist. “Come on, you know we have to do this. You don’t want Lou on our back do you?”
Lance hates using Lou as a threat, but it works as Justin walks from the room with a dignified grace that’s pure Timberlake. The others laugh of course, it’s stupid to think they won’t but after the initial burst of laughter is over they settle down, knowing they all look as bad.
Later, after Lance has done his individual shots with buckets of confetti and a tiny car he has to wedge inside, he sits on the sidelines, laughing as JC adjusts his fake breasts that are obviously lopsided.
“We’ll forget about this one day won’t we?” JC asks hopefully, and Lance shrugs. They might forget about the things they were made to do one day, but he doesn’t think so. How can they when pictures will exist of Justin sitting on a low stool, all long pink legs and scowling face as he pretends to milk a cow that’s distinctively shorter at the front than the back. Things like that will never be forgotten.
The second is
Justin leans in, a sliver of tongue visible between his slightly parted lips, and carefully draws another line. He’s so close Lance can feel each exhaled breath, and see every flaw of his skin, not that there’s many, this is Justin after all.
“Keep still,” Justin says softly, and the words glide over Lance, making him shiver at the sensation as the final line is drawn. “You’re done.”
Justin steps back, looking satisfied, then carefully places the pencil on the dresser before impatiently grabbing Lance’s t-shirt and pulling until he stands up. “Come and see. It looks good.”
Lance has no choice but to follow, and he blinks his eyes which feel hot and heavy as they stand side by side in front of the mirror. His first impulse is to scrub away the black that lines his eyes. He looks ridiculous, like a child playing dress-up and he brings up his fists, ready to rub away the evidence.
“Don’t,” Justin wraps his hand around Lance’s and pushes it back down. “You look good. I promise.”
Unsure, Lance looks at himself again, seeing the carefully smudged eyeliner that Justin laboured over, and the hint of colour that stains his lids. Even his lashes are different, black instead of blond and they seem longer somehow, darkening his eyes. The contrast between his pale complexion and even paler hair is jarring and Lance looks at himself, trying to understand what Justin sees.
“You’re so hot,” Justin says, and without looking away from their reflections, he runs his thumb under Lance’s eyes, gently brushing against long lashes.
Justin takes an audible breath, and Lance is amazed once more that he can affect him like this. Taking another look at himself he still thinks that he looks strange, but Justin obviously doesn’t agree and Lance is willing to trust his judgement.
“Come on,” pushing Justin toward the bed, Lance looks at the make-up spread across the dresser. “I want to do you now.”
