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Jun. 1st, 2007 05:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsCorey's been off on half term this week, so there's been a lot of sleeping in and going out. Yesterday the beach where I read my book in the sunshine, and also trips to the cinema. Not that I went in, instead I stayed in the bar and chatted with the best friend as our kidlets went in alone.
Also, Big Brother has started! An example of how sad we are. We'd arranged to go bowling with the best friend. We go to the late night sessions which are £1 a game, but found out they'd been cancelled due to the school holidays. I phoned Jill and after chatting a while we both admitted not being that worried about not going because we'd miss Big Brother. Told you it was sad *g*
Fannish wise, I'm so gone on Mag 7 still. So very gone. I must have read 89078268192 stories lately, and still I have no desire to stop reading more. My shiny new OTP makes me want to squee and while I haven't joined any comms yet it's just a matter of time.
I have a dragon story due next week and not many words. I do know what I'm doing and will be alone tonight and most of tomorrow, so, dragon writing time is then. I also need to get sorted on the pop_appreciate week. I was sorting things out with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cardalia but her computer must have totally broken down :(
I haven't anything to add to the whole LJ went boom thing. Just, I know things were handled badly, but I totally believe it was upper managements fault. I know LJ has some awesome people working for the company, and I trust them. I do have other journals but I never use them, and doubt that will change. I've no plans at all to go anywhere. I like it here too much.
I should be writing Dragons, but instead I can share some of the first kisses I've done for that meme last week. Also, some of you guys are just wrong! *g*
Chris/Lance.
Lance can tell of a multitude of first kisses.
That first day where everything changed and he was left floundering as his world shifted under his feet. His mom was in bed and he was sitting alone in a strange kitchen, drinking coco from a mug that wasn’t his own. Chris had come in with a clatter of noise, bitching about the bastards that didn’t tip and how he’d never get that sauce stain out of his shirt. Then his expressions softened and he stopped between door and fridge, wrapping his arms around Lance’s body and holding on. He smelt of sweat and grease, and Lance focussed on the burn across Chris’ hand, his vision fuzzy as Chris kissed the top of his head, saying, ‘things will be fine.’
The time on the road – Lance doesn’t know where, just that it was hot and dusty and the trees stood stark against a deep blue sky – when the air conditioning was going full stop and still it felt too much. They were all on one bus, lazing away the hours with movies and conversations that dwindled into hazy nothings. Lance was lying on the couch, his arm hanging down toward the floor, smiling when Chris took hold of his hand and pressed a kiss to Lance’s palm, looked up at him, winked and said, ‘hi.’
At the hotel. It was late -- five past two – and the show had finished hours before. The last die hard scrum of fans had been cleared, and Lance juggled two teddies and a letter as he opened his door. Chris had been waiting inside, holding up a key card in answer to a question Lance hadn’t needed to ask. Chris’ mouth tasted of mint and his touch spun unspoken words, declarations that Lance felt against his skin, bone deep and anchored for years.
Lance can tell of a multitude of first kisses, but he never will.
Dean/Brennan. And OMG! You do not want to know how much this prompt made me flail. Because man, they'd so meet each other all over the country and there'd be macho alpha dog battles going on, and they'd clash and have hot sex and just, guh!
They’d first met at some godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere. A plague of fucking locusts and a diner that served pie so old it could be classed as prehistoric. Then Dean had met him, the jackass with the smile and an attitude like he owned the town.
He’d strutted past the diner, fucking strutted and Dean had felt his hackles rise, remaining expressionless as the bell over the door jingled as the jerk stepped inside. He’d smiled at the waitress, saying something that made her giggle as he turned a chair, straddling it as he looked through the ancient menu, the cracked plastic sheet looking small in his hands.
“Dean. Dean.” Sam had hissed, and he’d kicked Dean in the shin. “Stop staring already.”
All Dean did was slouch further in place, his shoulders dragging down the window with a low pitched squeak.
The asshole had looked up then, assessing, coolly looking from Sam to Dean. As if he had every right to sit and stare. Then he’d stood, all liquid smooth movements and inclined his head toward the bathroom at the back of the room.
“Dean.”
Ignoring Sam, Dean had stood too.
The bathroom was small, and before he’d even closed the door he was pinned against the wall, looking up into brown eyes that defied him to fight back. Dean did, in a clash of teeth and fingers digging into skin. His thigh shoved hard between the guy’s legs, meeting each challenging touch with one of his own.
That first kiss resulted in a bust lip and a bruise along his jaw, but it was worth it. When he left the diner, Brennan’s number in his pocket and the taste of his blood in his mouth.
Captain Jack/Chris. Which hello. Holy hotness! I have this universe in my head where Chris travels with Jack, because man, it would be fantastic!
Chris first saw Jack in a bar. It was crowded, too many bodies crammed into too small a space and Chris felt a hand curl against his side. He'd looked back, and up, and frowned when some guy wrapped his hand in Chris' braids.
"Neat." He'd said, and tugged gently. "It gives you something to hang onto."
Which was a lame line and Chris had heard it multiple times before, but it was different that time, when the words were accompanied with a blinding smile. They didn't even talk, not really. With Jack pretending that the crowd meant he had to stand plastered against Chris' back, and Chris letting him.
Jack had ordered cocktails --swirling blue and pink with tiny umbrellas balanced inside -- and he'd pressed them into Chris' hand with an elaborate bow. Laughing along with Chris' scowl.
Jack's hand was warm, his fingers soft, and he'd held on tight as they finally wavered toward outside. Stepping from warmth and noise into the realities of the night. Cold wind and sharp edges and Jack had leaned forward, his hand resting against Chris' cheek. His kiss tasted of alcohol, layered over something Chris didn't understand at all.
"I'll find you again." Jack had said, and his coat billowed behind him as he walked away.
Lamp/Pecker. Which reminds me. There's going to be a Camp Sparkle the Remix next year! I can't fully say how happy this makes me. Anyone that's interested in maybe going, go join![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sparklyukfans and check out the poll. You too can hang with amazing popslashers, because they're awesome. And you'll learn about Lamp and Pecker, Brian's duck. Wait, don't run, this is a good thing.
Lamp's centre was cold, his wax caught in a permanent mass of frozen curls. He hadn't been needed for weeks, left abandoned on his shelf, eagerly waiting for that moment when a fangirl remembered that he was alive. Only then would his wax bubble, his glass shine and his liquid glow as he was reunited with one of the men he loved so much.
He didn't even care if he was broken, or made evil yet again. At least he'd have attention, not be left here, growing dusty and alone.
"QUACK!"
Something shuffled across the floor, then in flurry of flapping feathers, Pecker landed on the shelf. Pecker was the latest addition to the house 'o boyband crack. Arriving weeks before, his beady eyes gleaming, his beak wide in triumph. None of them had the heart to tell him things would change, and soon he'd be nothing but a memory.
For days Pecker had wandered the rooms. Past the tree frogs that huddled in a corner. The llama that nibbled at the carpet. The couch that occasionally moved, disturbing the goldfish that swam in their bowl.
Finally Pecker understood. That you were only important for days, sometimes only hours. It was something they'd all been forced to face, but still. It was hard.
"QUACK"
Lamp's wax quivered when he looked at Pecker. Noticing the emotion in his eyes. Pecker opened his beak, tapping it against Lamp's glass.
Lamp bubbled then, wax melting as he realised that he really wasn't alone.
Lynn/Nysnc. Sadly not all at the same time.nopseud asked for Chris/Lynn, then changed her mind and asked for Joey/Lynn. So I did them all, because she made us soup and puts me up despite me going mute each time and is just awesome. I just wish I had time to make them better.
Kissing Chris had never been in Lynn's plans. She'd never listed kiss Justin's best friend next to check passports and buy more aspirin in her diary. Yet she'd done it all the same.
A warm summer night and she was sitting outside, the moon casting silvery light across the pool. A shared bottle of wine, one glass, whispered words, and Lynn leaning forward for a kiss. The glass falling, and Lynn's hands against Chris' sides, holding on as he ran his fingers over her back, his thumb along her jaw.
Weels later and it was ended by guilt. Chris'. Never her own.
****
Joey was one brief dizzying night of passion. Both home-sick and tired and needing. Joey's hand under her skirt, his fingers pushing aside her panties as he leaned over her, pressing her against the bed. His eyes closed and mouth open, panting her name as she moved against him, her knees up as she licked into his mouth, refusing nothing he gave.
It was lust. Scratching an itch -- nothing more.
****
It was a night of bitter memories and razor sharp words. Lynn smiling as she steered Lance from the room, past the crew and Justin who glared toward them, watching Lance's every move, making Lynn's skin prickle with the unspoken words. Suddenly she was twisted around, her back to the wall. Lance's stubble scraping across her skin, his fingers twisted in her dress.
It was a kiss that meant everything and nothing, built to make a point and on jealousy alone.
****
They danced, bodies pressed close and JC singing in her ear, dirty words and breathless sounds. Licking along her neck as his hands slipped lower, cupping her ass. A twisting movement and they fell on the sofa, JC's hip bony against her side. Helping him forget with each sure movement and lingering kiss.
The only thing left in the morning was a piece of paper, thank you scrawled over a smilie face.
****
The first kiss was one of a million. Each one based on love. It was supposed to be wrong, but how could it be? When Justin moved beneath her, his lips soft and his hands clammy, his expression one of devotion as she taught him all he needed to know.
She was his mother and she'd do anything for him. Anything.
Also, Big Brother has started! An example of how sad we are. We'd arranged to go bowling with the best friend. We go to the late night sessions which are £1 a game, but found out they'd been cancelled due to the school holidays. I phoned Jill and after chatting a while we both admitted not being that worried about not going because we'd miss Big Brother. Told you it was sad *g*
Fannish wise, I'm so gone on Mag 7 still. So very gone. I must have read 89078268192 stories lately, and still I have no desire to stop reading more. My shiny new OTP makes me want to squee and while I haven't joined any comms yet it's just a matter of time.
I have a dragon story due next week and not many words. I do know what I'm doing and will be alone tonight and most of tomorrow, so, dragon writing time is then. I also need to get sorted on the pop_appreciate week. I was sorting things out with
cardalia but her computer must have totally broken down :(I haven't anything to add to the whole LJ went boom thing. Just, I know things were handled badly, but I totally believe it was upper managements fault. I know LJ has some awesome people working for the company, and I trust them. I do have other journals but I never use them, and doubt that will change. I've no plans at all to go anywhere. I like it here too much.
I should be writing Dragons, but instead I can share some of the first kisses I've done for that meme last week. Also, some of you guys are just wrong! *g*
Chris/Lance.
Lance can tell of a multitude of first kisses.
That first day where everything changed and he was left floundering as his world shifted under his feet. His mom was in bed and he was sitting alone in a strange kitchen, drinking coco from a mug that wasn’t his own. Chris had come in with a clatter of noise, bitching about the bastards that didn’t tip and how he’d never get that sauce stain out of his shirt. Then his expressions softened and he stopped between door and fridge, wrapping his arms around Lance’s body and holding on. He smelt of sweat and grease, and Lance focussed on the burn across Chris’ hand, his vision fuzzy as Chris kissed the top of his head, saying, ‘things will be fine.’
The time on the road – Lance doesn’t know where, just that it was hot and dusty and the trees stood stark against a deep blue sky – when the air conditioning was going full stop and still it felt too much. They were all on one bus, lazing away the hours with movies and conversations that dwindled into hazy nothings. Lance was lying on the couch, his arm hanging down toward the floor, smiling when Chris took hold of his hand and pressed a kiss to Lance’s palm, looked up at him, winked and said, ‘hi.’
At the hotel. It was late -- five past two – and the show had finished hours before. The last die hard scrum of fans had been cleared, and Lance juggled two teddies and a letter as he opened his door. Chris had been waiting inside, holding up a key card in answer to a question Lance hadn’t needed to ask. Chris’ mouth tasted of mint and his touch spun unspoken words, declarations that Lance felt against his skin, bone deep and anchored for years.
Lance can tell of a multitude of first kisses, but he never will.
Dean/Brennan. And OMG! You do not want to know how much this prompt made me flail. Because man, they'd so meet each other all over the country and there'd be macho alpha dog battles going on, and they'd clash and have hot sex and just, guh!
They’d first met at some godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere. A plague of fucking locusts and a diner that served pie so old it could be classed as prehistoric. Then Dean had met him, the jackass with the smile and an attitude like he owned the town.
He’d strutted past the diner, fucking strutted and Dean had felt his hackles rise, remaining expressionless as the bell over the door jingled as the jerk stepped inside. He’d smiled at the waitress, saying something that made her giggle as he turned a chair, straddling it as he looked through the ancient menu, the cracked plastic sheet looking small in his hands.
“Dean. Dean.” Sam had hissed, and he’d kicked Dean in the shin. “Stop staring already.”
All Dean did was slouch further in place, his shoulders dragging down the window with a low pitched squeak.
The asshole had looked up then, assessing, coolly looking from Sam to Dean. As if he had every right to sit and stare. Then he’d stood, all liquid smooth movements and inclined his head toward the bathroom at the back of the room.
“Dean.”
Ignoring Sam, Dean had stood too.
The bathroom was small, and before he’d even closed the door he was pinned against the wall, looking up into brown eyes that defied him to fight back. Dean did, in a clash of teeth and fingers digging into skin. His thigh shoved hard between the guy’s legs, meeting each challenging touch with one of his own.
That first kiss resulted in a bust lip and a bruise along his jaw, but it was worth it. When he left the diner, Brennan’s number in his pocket and the taste of his blood in his mouth.
Captain Jack/Chris. Which hello. Holy hotness! I have this universe in my head where Chris travels with Jack, because man, it would be fantastic!
Chris first saw Jack in a bar. It was crowded, too many bodies crammed into too small a space and Chris felt a hand curl against his side. He'd looked back, and up, and frowned when some guy wrapped his hand in Chris' braids.
"Neat." He'd said, and tugged gently. "It gives you something to hang onto."
Which was a lame line and Chris had heard it multiple times before, but it was different that time, when the words were accompanied with a blinding smile. They didn't even talk, not really. With Jack pretending that the crowd meant he had to stand plastered against Chris' back, and Chris letting him.
Jack had ordered cocktails --swirling blue and pink with tiny umbrellas balanced inside -- and he'd pressed them into Chris' hand with an elaborate bow. Laughing along with Chris' scowl.
Jack's hand was warm, his fingers soft, and he'd held on tight as they finally wavered toward outside. Stepping from warmth and noise into the realities of the night. Cold wind and sharp edges and Jack had leaned forward, his hand resting against Chris' cheek. His kiss tasted of alcohol, layered over something Chris didn't understand at all.
"I'll find you again." Jack had said, and his coat billowed behind him as he walked away.
Lamp/Pecker. Which reminds me. There's going to be a Camp Sparkle the Remix next year! I can't fully say how happy this makes me. Anyone that's interested in maybe going, go join
sparklyukfans and check out the poll. You too can hang with amazing popslashers, because they're awesome. And you'll learn about Lamp and Pecker, Brian's duck. Wait, don't run, this is a good thing.Lamp's centre was cold, his wax caught in a permanent mass of frozen curls. He hadn't been needed for weeks, left abandoned on his shelf, eagerly waiting for that moment when a fangirl remembered that he was alive. Only then would his wax bubble, his glass shine and his liquid glow as he was reunited with one of the men he loved so much.
He didn't even care if he was broken, or made evil yet again. At least he'd have attention, not be left here, growing dusty and alone.
"QUACK!"
Something shuffled across the floor, then in flurry of flapping feathers, Pecker landed on the shelf. Pecker was the latest addition to the house 'o boyband crack. Arriving weeks before, his beady eyes gleaming, his beak wide in triumph. None of them had the heart to tell him things would change, and soon he'd be nothing but a memory.
For days Pecker had wandered the rooms. Past the tree frogs that huddled in a corner. The llama that nibbled at the carpet. The couch that occasionally moved, disturbing the goldfish that swam in their bowl.
Finally Pecker understood. That you were only important for days, sometimes only hours. It was something they'd all been forced to face, but still. It was hard.
"QUACK"
Lamp's wax quivered when he looked at Pecker. Noticing the emotion in his eyes. Pecker opened his beak, tapping it against Lamp's glass.
Lamp bubbled then, wax melting as he realised that he really wasn't alone.
Lynn/Nysnc. Sadly not all at the same time.
nopseud asked for Chris/Lynn, then changed her mind and asked for Joey/Lynn. So I did them all, because she made us soup and puts me up despite me going mute each time and is just awesome. I just wish I had time to make them better. Kissing Chris had never been in Lynn's plans. She'd never listed kiss Justin's best friend next to check passports and buy more aspirin in her diary. Yet she'd done it all the same.
A warm summer night and she was sitting outside, the moon casting silvery light across the pool. A shared bottle of wine, one glass, whispered words, and Lynn leaning forward for a kiss. The glass falling, and Lynn's hands against Chris' sides, holding on as he ran his fingers over her back, his thumb along her jaw.
Weels later and it was ended by guilt. Chris'. Never her own.
****
Joey was one brief dizzying night of passion. Both home-sick and tired and needing. Joey's hand under her skirt, his fingers pushing aside her panties as he leaned over her, pressing her against the bed. His eyes closed and mouth open, panting her name as she moved against him, her knees up as she licked into his mouth, refusing nothing he gave.
It was lust. Scratching an itch -- nothing more.
****
It was a night of bitter memories and razor sharp words. Lynn smiling as she steered Lance from the room, past the crew and Justin who glared toward them, watching Lance's every move, making Lynn's skin prickle with the unspoken words. Suddenly she was twisted around, her back to the wall. Lance's stubble scraping across her skin, his fingers twisted in her dress.
It was a kiss that meant everything and nothing, built to make a point and on jealousy alone.
****
They danced, bodies pressed close and JC singing in her ear, dirty words and breathless sounds. Licking along her neck as his hands slipped lower, cupping her ass. A twisting movement and they fell on the sofa, JC's hip bony against her side. Helping him forget with each sure movement and lingering kiss.
The only thing left in the morning was a piece of paper, thank you scrawled over a smilie face.
****
The first kiss was one of a million. Each one based on love. It was supposed to be wrong, but how could it be? When Justin moved beneath her, his lips soft and his hands clammy, his expression one of devotion as she taught him all he needed to know.
She was his mother and she'd do anything for him. Anything.
