(no subject)
Sep. 7th, 2006 02:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsIf you like to read Chola you need to get over to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ephemera_pop's journal right now. I asked her for chola in the five things meme and just, hmmmmmmmmm
I have more to share myself. Mutant X, The Sentinel, Supernatural and Pop. Now I've never written a word of Supernatural before, so, eeeeep!
frayen asked for
Five times Dean never had sex with Sam when he really should have
They've been tracking this bastard for days now. A new town, and they arrive to tell tale signs. Charred trees, their branches snapped and trailing to the floor. Townsfolk with empty eyes, hunched over and broken inside. It's too late, they're always too late.
All they can do is push past the grasping hands, keep looking forward, never back.
Dean's back itches as he eases into his car, slow, steady, don't show the nerves that clench down his spine. Shut the door, wait until Sam's inside, then squeal away, creating dust that conceals the crowd, death hidden in a swirling cloud.
"All those people." Sam's fingers are tapping against the window, one two three, and he's hunched up small, knees up, eyes hidden behind a sweep of hair. Dean wants to comfort him, but there's nothing to say. Death is ingrained in their skin this week.
"If we'd gone faster...." Dean keeps driving, it was impossible to go faster, and Sam knows that. "If we'd got there earlier. It's all so senseless."
Dean shifts in his seat, presses the pedal that little bit faster, pushing his car to the limit.
"All those people."
Sam's working up into an almighty brood, and Dean needs to nip this in the bud. "Sam...." The words dry in his mouth, crumbling into dust when Sam's hand lands in Dean's lap, stroking, fingers massaging. The movements are jerky, painful in their intensity, and Dean tries to move away. "What the fuck?"
"I'm sick of death, Dean." Sam's looking forward, staring into the darkness.
"This isn't the answer." Dean takes Sam's hand, moving it to the side. They keep driving, silent, tracking.
Later, when Dean's alone, he wonders if things could have been different. If stopping back then would have changed anything. Thing is, he'll never know.
~*~*~*~
It's a stupid bet. The first to jack off, to come, scores the rooms for the next five towns. Easy yeah? Dean finds it isn't easy at all. He feels like he's thirteen again, throwing a boner at the slightest thing. A breeze across his crotch, the feel of his fingers when he takes a piss, hell, he'd nearly creamed his pants watching the waitress chew on her pen.
It sucks, but it's a matter of pride now, no way will he let Sam win.
"Dean."
Dean gulps and looks away. But it's too late, he's already seen Sam walk across the room. Naked, hair slicked back, beads of water glistening on his skin. It's not fair and Sam's a bastard.
"Dean, this is stupid. Forget the bet and come here."
Sam's patting the bed, an obvious invitation. Dean screws shut his eyes, recites Latin curses until the throbbing in his dick goes away.
~*~*~*~
They've learned a lot on those road trips, countless miles eaten in the dead of night. Often they listen to music, Dean tapping the steering wheel as Sam curls up to sleep. Other times they talk. Some words are easier exchanged in the dead of night, becoming softer, slipping free of traps that have held them for years.
Numerous journeys and Sam learns that Dean plays for both sides, but despite that choice, loneliness gnaws at his insides. It's a heavy knowledge, Sam's known love, and wants Dean to know it too. To understand that love choked in duty isn't the best he can do. Sam can provide that love, offers it on yet another journey. See the wants in Dean's eyes, even as he says no.
~*~*~*~
They'd had this argument, this stupid argument about nothing at all. Now Sam's left in the hotel room, bad porn and hand lotion followed by a night of sleeping alone. Dean pays for it through, and Sam delights in watching each scratch, each squirm. Until finally he relents, and they visit the chemist in the next town.
~*~*~*~
It isn't often Dean gets embarrassed, but faced with a roomful of women and a camera he feels the telltale heat of a blush. It's not that they want to film him, he's been asked that before. But filming him with Sam? That has to be a no.
It doesn't matter how hungry he is, how badly they need a room. What he has with Sam is special, and no way will he share it with the world.
Five things Brennan loves about Jesse
Not that he's sex obsessed or anything, but Brennan really loves that Jesse can mass his body parts at will. Come on, who wouldn't?
Everyone knows they're a couple, but Jesse still continues to phase through Brennan's bedroom walls. Which is fine, Brennan loves waiting for him, the prickle at the back of his neck as Jesse suddenly appears. However, the phasing directly into bed has to stop, there's only so many times Brennan can take the shock. The manly shock, he doesn't shriek like a girl, despite what Jesse says.
Brennan's lived his life based on harsh reality, and that meant developing a hard outer shell. Always willing to fight his own corner, do what needs to be done. It's left his hands bloody at times, his soul tainted in many ways. Jesse understands, but most important of all, doesn't care. When he's with him Brennan feels the memories of past sins wash away.
Jesse's a tech geek, loves nothing more than messing with computers, his mind obsessed with codes and sleek powerful machines. Despite secretly thinking they're obsolete, he hands Brennan a book each week. Fingers dusty, he says I was passing the shop and thought why not? Brennan knows he wouldn't have been close at all.
Brennan's not a sap, never will be, but when Jesse's bent over the computer like that. Concentrating so hard, his hair falling in his eyes, he's the most beautiful man alive.
Five times Jim outsmarted Blair
Jim doesn't mean to be nosy, but it's hard not to listen when Blair's in the loft. Maybe he could have concentrated on something else, but Blair was talking about dating agencies and meeting people online. That couldn't happen, Jim had enough keeping track of Blair's real life dates without adding cyber freaks too.
A quick call to the agency, a verbal flash of badge, and Blair's account was shut down. Jim felt guilty for all of a minute, but it was for the best, especially when he can comfort Blair, tell him people don't know what they're missing when he doesn't get any calls.
~*~*~*~
Blair can't understand it. He thought Jim would hate tantric sex, all the breathing, the concentrating and slow pace. Turns out he loves it, and Blair squirms in place, desperate to come as Jim closes his eyes and hums.
~*~*~*~
"Come on, man. You can do this."
Barely hidden frustration, and Blair's hands are on Jim's face. The rasp of fingertips under Jim's eyes, warm palms, the soft heat of breath as Blair leans close.
Jim pretend sighs, lets impatience school his expression as he stares into the distance, easily seeing for miles. Not that he's going to admit that. Not yet anyway. Blair's hands feel nice, so why ruin a good thing?
~*~*~*~
Blair thought he was going to die. Damn if Jim would let that happen. Maybe he didn't want to indulge in the mystical stuff. He still knew it was there.
He wouldn't let Blair die.
He wouldn't!
He'd do whatever it took.
The panther roared.
~*~*~*~
Birthdays were nothing but rituals to mark the passing of the years. Blair didn't need those, he had plenty of rituals of his own, mass produced ones didn't appeal at all. He'd first realised that when he was five. When his birthday passed without mention and the shiny truck of his dreams was wiped away. Since then his birthdate was nothing but a number. Just another day, a marking of time that was always ignored.
"Happy Birthday!"
A chorus of cheers, friends filling the loft as Jim stood in the background and smiled. Arms full of gifts, a birthday banner draped over his shoulder, Blair thought maybe there was something to this ritual after all.
mickeym asked for
JC breaks up with Bobbie and it seems he'll never smile again. On the outside he's fine, his usual self with the fans and media that crowd their every move. Inside though. Inside he's a mess. He's spending hours in his bunk, curtains closed tight and the muted wail of tortured music wraps around the burr of the road. JC is pale, eyes shadowed and there's only so much tiptoeing around Chris can physically do.
Pulling back the curtain, he grabs the sheets and pulls. CDs rain to the floor, bouncing along the bus in sparkling circles of light.
"Come on, we're going out." They're in the middle of nowhere, dark fields and a road that stretches for miles. The bus is stopping anyway, pulling onto the grassy verge.
JC frowns, but emerges from his bunk, squinting in the dim light. "Where are we?"
"No idea, but we're still going out."
The door opens, and the chilled night wind invades the bus. Justin dives for his papers, weighing then down with his hand as Chris pushes JC outside. Shivering and silent as they stand against the side of the bus.
"I'm gonna be okay you know," JC says, words spoken to the night air.
Chris pushes his hands deep in his pockets, he knows JC will be okay, he's always okay.
"I mean, it's probably for the best. Life has a way of showing what's right, and she wasn't it. I think fate has other plans for me." JC's staring up, as if reading a message written in stars. "I can't. Not yet, when it's so soon, but. Wait for me."
Chris looks to the stars too, but there's no message for him. Then again, he doesn't need one. Not when JC's hand is warm against his back.
~*~*~*~
The space bulls were cool, but damn were they hard to ride. It's not like they just had to sit and hold on, no, they had to dance on the damn things. Knees in, thighs pressed tight, bounce as high as you can go. They all became used to being flung to the floor, landing in a laughing heap to the catcalls of crew. Mostly they landed alone, but today Chris had been flung left, JC right, and somehow they'd crashed down together.
A tangle of arms and legs, then JC is looking down at Chris. He's kinda gross, sweaty after hours of practice, his hair matted to his forehead but JC can't help bending that little bit forward, snatching a kiss before rolling away.
Chris always remembered that kiss, not many relationships started in the shadow of a bull.
~*~*~*~
Chris is puzzled when Justin knocks on the side of the bunk. This is his time with JC, the few hours they have together in relative privacy. Chris is used to lying listening to music, writing to his mom until he finally falls asleep. Now though, Justin is looking at him, obviously waiting to speak.
"What is it, Justin?" Chris turns off his player, and doesn't bother to be polite, he's the one lying here night after night, he doesn't need to be polite.
Casual, Justin leans against the side of the bunk, a deliberate pose designed to show skin. "JC wants you want to join us."
"And do what? Be an appreciative audience for your sex games. I don't do that."
"No.That's what I like to do." Justin bends down a little, expression knowing. "You and JC. You've wanted it long enough." He leaves then, and Chris is left staring at the ceiling of his bunk. He should say no, he's not a toy to be used like this, and knowing what he's missing will make it hurt even more.
He waits all of a minute before joining them.
~*~*~*~
"You know, I could do them myself." Chris is scowling fiercely. His hand hurts and this is embarrassing, like he hasn't been able to tie laces since he was a kid.
"I know you can, but it's quicker if I do it." JC looks up, unimpressed with the frustration fuelled anger that Chris flings his way. Deft movements and the other lace is tied too, and JC's standing, brushing at his knees "I don't mind doing it." He smiles, carefully cradling Chris' hand in his own, pressing a gentle kiss over swollen fingers. "I'm going to get my stuff."
Chris stares after JC as he hurries away, scowl easing with the knowledge that JC's going to stay.
~*~*~*~
It was a long held dream. Boy meets boy, boy loves boy. Boys live happily ever after, but dreams never work that way. Now it's years after that first meeting, and Chris knows it's not going to happen. The window of opportunity is well past, left behind with past glories and the ghosts of sparkly pants.
Except dreams are hardy things, reborn with the slightest spark. A late night, an hour long call, and JC's heading Chris' way.
Finally,musiclover03 asked for
Five titles for Chris'/Nigel's 11 album.
The FKA Rides Again.
Trash Tunes
Mr Pinky and his Four Friends
Jiggles and Giggles
Vroom.
Five songs Chris has written about JC.
The Ballad of Woe. -- Chris can never forget the time JC's favourite pants developed a hole.
Bite Me -- Because JC does, often. Sometimes he draws blood, the kinky bastard.
Tongue and Whiskers -- JC does this thing with his tongue, and his scruff burns just right, and....
Toy Town Baby -- Have you seen JC's toy bag? It's more like a chest!
Ditto -- Because they love to watch Ghost, and you know, ditto. Always ditto.
That's it. No brain bleach needed this time. I did promiseseiyaharris I'd try for 5 happy fluffy things like time, and I did try! That counts right?
ephemera_pop's journal right now. I asked her for chola in the five things meme and just, hmmmmmmmmmI have more to share myself. Mutant X, The Sentinel, Supernatural and Pop. Now I've never written a word of Supernatural before, so, eeeeep!
frayen asked for Five times Dean never had sex with Sam when he really should have
They've been tracking this bastard for days now. A new town, and they arrive to tell tale signs. Charred trees, their branches snapped and trailing to the floor. Townsfolk with empty eyes, hunched over and broken inside. It's too late, they're always too late.
All they can do is push past the grasping hands, keep looking forward, never back.
Dean's back itches as he eases into his car, slow, steady, don't show the nerves that clench down his spine. Shut the door, wait until Sam's inside, then squeal away, creating dust that conceals the crowd, death hidden in a swirling cloud.
"All those people." Sam's fingers are tapping against the window, one two three, and he's hunched up small, knees up, eyes hidden behind a sweep of hair. Dean wants to comfort him, but there's nothing to say. Death is ingrained in their skin this week.
"If we'd gone faster...." Dean keeps driving, it was impossible to go faster, and Sam knows that. "If we'd got there earlier. It's all so senseless."
Dean shifts in his seat, presses the pedal that little bit faster, pushing his car to the limit.
"All those people."
Sam's working up into an almighty brood, and Dean needs to nip this in the bud. "Sam...." The words dry in his mouth, crumbling into dust when Sam's hand lands in Dean's lap, stroking, fingers massaging. The movements are jerky, painful in their intensity, and Dean tries to move away. "What the fuck?"
"I'm sick of death, Dean." Sam's looking forward, staring into the darkness.
"This isn't the answer." Dean takes Sam's hand, moving it to the side. They keep driving, silent, tracking.
Later, when Dean's alone, he wonders if things could have been different. If stopping back then would have changed anything. Thing is, he'll never know.
~*~*~*~
It's a stupid bet. The first to jack off, to come, scores the rooms for the next five towns. Easy yeah? Dean finds it isn't easy at all. He feels like he's thirteen again, throwing a boner at the slightest thing. A breeze across his crotch, the feel of his fingers when he takes a piss, hell, he'd nearly creamed his pants watching the waitress chew on her pen.
It sucks, but it's a matter of pride now, no way will he let Sam win.
"Dean."
Dean gulps and looks away. But it's too late, he's already seen Sam walk across the room. Naked, hair slicked back, beads of water glistening on his skin. It's not fair and Sam's a bastard.
"Dean, this is stupid. Forget the bet and come here."
Sam's patting the bed, an obvious invitation. Dean screws shut his eyes, recites Latin curses until the throbbing in his dick goes away.
~*~*~*~
They've learned a lot on those road trips, countless miles eaten in the dead of night. Often they listen to music, Dean tapping the steering wheel as Sam curls up to sleep. Other times they talk. Some words are easier exchanged in the dead of night, becoming softer, slipping free of traps that have held them for years.
Numerous journeys and Sam learns that Dean plays for both sides, but despite that choice, loneliness gnaws at his insides. It's a heavy knowledge, Sam's known love, and wants Dean to know it too. To understand that love choked in duty isn't the best he can do. Sam can provide that love, offers it on yet another journey. See the wants in Dean's eyes, even as he says no.
~*~*~*~
They'd had this argument, this stupid argument about nothing at all. Now Sam's left in the hotel room, bad porn and hand lotion followed by a night of sleeping alone. Dean pays for it through, and Sam delights in watching each scratch, each squirm. Until finally he relents, and they visit the chemist in the next town.
~*~*~*~
It isn't often Dean gets embarrassed, but faced with a roomful of women and a camera he feels the telltale heat of a blush. It's not that they want to film him, he's been asked that before. But filming him with Sam? That has to be a no.
It doesn't matter how hungry he is, how badly they need a room. What he has with Sam is special, and no way will he share it with the world.
Five things Brennan loves about Jesse
Not that he's sex obsessed or anything, but Brennan really loves that Jesse can mass his body parts at will. Come on, who wouldn't?
Everyone knows they're a couple, but Jesse still continues to phase through Brennan's bedroom walls. Which is fine, Brennan loves waiting for him, the prickle at the back of his neck as Jesse suddenly appears. However, the phasing directly into bed has to stop, there's only so many times Brennan can take the shock. The manly shock, he doesn't shriek like a girl, despite what Jesse says.
Brennan's lived his life based on harsh reality, and that meant developing a hard outer shell. Always willing to fight his own corner, do what needs to be done. It's left his hands bloody at times, his soul tainted in many ways. Jesse understands, but most important of all, doesn't care. When he's with him Brennan feels the memories of past sins wash away.
Jesse's a tech geek, loves nothing more than messing with computers, his mind obsessed with codes and sleek powerful machines. Despite secretly thinking they're obsolete, he hands Brennan a book each week. Fingers dusty, he says I was passing the shop and thought why not? Brennan knows he wouldn't have been close at all.
Brennan's not a sap, never will be, but when Jesse's bent over the computer like that. Concentrating so hard, his hair falling in his eyes, he's the most beautiful man alive.
Five times Jim outsmarted Blair
Jim doesn't mean to be nosy, but it's hard not to listen when Blair's in the loft. Maybe he could have concentrated on something else, but Blair was talking about dating agencies and meeting people online. That couldn't happen, Jim had enough keeping track of Blair's real life dates without adding cyber freaks too.
A quick call to the agency, a verbal flash of badge, and Blair's account was shut down. Jim felt guilty for all of a minute, but it was for the best, especially when he can comfort Blair, tell him people don't know what they're missing when he doesn't get any calls.
~*~*~*~
Blair can't understand it. He thought Jim would hate tantric sex, all the breathing, the concentrating and slow pace. Turns out he loves it, and Blair squirms in place, desperate to come as Jim closes his eyes and hums.
~*~*~*~
"Come on, man. You can do this."
Barely hidden frustration, and Blair's hands are on Jim's face. The rasp of fingertips under Jim's eyes, warm palms, the soft heat of breath as Blair leans close.
Jim pretend sighs, lets impatience school his expression as he stares into the distance, easily seeing for miles. Not that he's going to admit that. Not yet anyway. Blair's hands feel nice, so why ruin a good thing?
~*~*~*~
Blair thought he was going to die. Damn if Jim would let that happen. Maybe he didn't want to indulge in the mystical stuff. He still knew it was there.
He wouldn't let Blair die.
He wouldn't!
He'd do whatever it took.
The panther roared.
~*~*~*~
Birthdays were nothing but rituals to mark the passing of the years. Blair didn't need those, he had plenty of rituals of his own, mass produced ones didn't appeal at all. He'd first realised that when he was five. When his birthday passed without mention and the shiny truck of his dreams was wiped away. Since then his birthdate was nothing but a number. Just another day, a marking of time that was always ignored.
"Happy Birthday!"
A chorus of cheers, friends filling the loft as Jim stood in the background and smiled. Arms full of gifts, a birthday banner draped over his shoulder, Blair thought maybe there was something to this ritual after all.
mickeym asked for JC breaks up with Bobbie and it seems he'll never smile again. On the outside he's fine, his usual self with the fans and media that crowd their every move. Inside though. Inside he's a mess. He's spending hours in his bunk, curtains closed tight and the muted wail of tortured music wraps around the burr of the road. JC is pale, eyes shadowed and there's only so much tiptoeing around Chris can physically do.
Pulling back the curtain, he grabs the sheets and pulls. CDs rain to the floor, bouncing along the bus in sparkling circles of light.
"Come on, we're going out." They're in the middle of nowhere, dark fields and a road that stretches for miles. The bus is stopping anyway, pulling onto the grassy verge.
JC frowns, but emerges from his bunk, squinting in the dim light. "Where are we?"
"No idea, but we're still going out."
The door opens, and the chilled night wind invades the bus. Justin dives for his papers, weighing then down with his hand as Chris pushes JC outside. Shivering and silent as they stand against the side of the bus.
"I'm gonna be okay you know," JC says, words spoken to the night air.
Chris pushes his hands deep in his pockets, he knows JC will be okay, he's always okay.
"I mean, it's probably for the best. Life has a way of showing what's right, and she wasn't it. I think fate has other plans for me." JC's staring up, as if reading a message written in stars. "I can't. Not yet, when it's so soon, but. Wait for me."
Chris looks to the stars too, but there's no message for him. Then again, he doesn't need one. Not when JC's hand is warm against his back.
~*~*~*~
The space bulls were cool, but damn were they hard to ride. It's not like they just had to sit and hold on, no, they had to dance on the damn things. Knees in, thighs pressed tight, bounce as high as you can go. They all became used to being flung to the floor, landing in a laughing heap to the catcalls of crew. Mostly they landed alone, but today Chris had been flung left, JC right, and somehow they'd crashed down together.
A tangle of arms and legs, then JC is looking down at Chris. He's kinda gross, sweaty after hours of practice, his hair matted to his forehead but JC can't help bending that little bit forward, snatching a kiss before rolling away.
Chris always remembered that kiss, not many relationships started in the shadow of a bull.
~*~*~*~
Chris is puzzled when Justin knocks on the side of the bunk. This is his time with JC, the few hours they have together in relative privacy. Chris is used to lying listening to music, writing to his mom until he finally falls asleep. Now though, Justin is looking at him, obviously waiting to speak.
"What is it, Justin?" Chris turns off his player, and doesn't bother to be polite, he's the one lying here night after night, he doesn't need to be polite.
Casual, Justin leans against the side of the bunk, a deliberate pose designed to show skin. "JC wants you want to join us."
"And do what? Be an appreciative audience for your sex games. I don't do that."
"No.That's what I like to do." Justin bends down a little, expression knowing. "You and JC. You've wanted it long enough." He leaves then, and Chris is left staring at the ceiling of his bunk. He should say no, he's not a toy to be used like this, and knowing what he's missing will make it hurt even more.
He waits all of a minute before joining them.
~*~*~*~
"You know, I could do them myself." Chris is scowling fiercely. His hand hurts and this is embarrassing, like he hasn't been able to tie laces since he was a kid.
"I know you can, but it's quicker if I do it." JC looks up, unimpressed with the frustration fuelled anger that Chris flings his way. Deft movements and the other lace is tied too, and JC's standing, brushing at his knees "I don't mind doing it." He smiles, carefully cradling Chris' hand in his own, pressing a gentle kiss over swollen fingers. "I'm going to get my stuff."
Chris stares after JC as he hurries away, scowl easing with the knowledge that JC's going to stay.
~*~*~*~
It was a long held dream. Boy meets boy, boy loves boy. Boys live happily ever after, but dreams never work that way. Now it's years after that first meeting, and Chris knows it's not going to happen. The window of opportunity is well past, left behind with past glories and the ghosts of sparkly pants.
Except dreams are hardy things, reborn with the slightest spark. A late night, an hour long call, and JC's heading Chris' way.
Finally,
musiclover03 asked for Five titles for Chris'/Nigel's 11 album.
The FKA Rides Again.
Trash Tunes
Mr Pinky and his Four Friends
Jiggles and Giggles
Vroom.
Five songs Chris has written about JC.
The Ballad of Woe. -- Chris can never forget the time JC's favourite pants developed a hole.
Bite Me -- Because JC does, often. Sometimes he draws blood, the kinky bastard.
Tongue and Whiskers -- JC does this thing with his tongue, and his scruff burns just right, and....
Toy Town Baby -- Have you seen JC's toy bag? It's more like a chest!
Ditto -- Because they love to watch Ghost, and you know, ditto. Always ditto.
That's it. No brain bleach needed this time. I did promise
seiyaharris I'd try for 5 happy fluffy things like time, and I did try! That counts right?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-09-15 06:23 pm (UTC)As for the TS ones, yeah, I have to second what Linda said; I'd love to see some of them extended to ficlets/fics :-)
You rock, sis, woohoo!