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Greetings and salutations, LJ!
Did anyone notice I was gone?
::echoing: gone, gone, gone...::
Okaaay, then.
Migraines stink, work interferes horribly with fandom, and etc.
While I was gone I watched a whole un-fandom-related film! Well, actually, I lie. Scully was in it. It's called "The House of Mirth", and it made me cry like an infant at the end. I loved it.
I am working on a real story, which may or may not ever see the light of day. But, at least I'm working on it.
And Now for Something Completely Different.
~
Home
by serpentinegratificationbilly
They’d been young, even Chris, and he’d liked Justin’s house because it was big and fancy and the kind of house he’d never been allowed to play in when he was a genuine child. JC’s house was immaculate but comfy, in the same way that JC was both extraordinarily beautiful and constantly rumpled. Joey never stayed at his house unless he brought Kelly there, and Lance’s place was full to the rafters of an annoying ferret.
Then they got older, and Chris didn’t like staying in Justin’s house because it was big and fancy and the kind of house he’d never been allowed to play in when he was a genuine child. It had white couches that stained easily if you spilled beer on them, and people who wore expensive watches, and women who sneered at him for being over thirty and letting his business fail. The play station was hidden in Justin’s bedroom where it was suddenly awkward for Chris to go.
They were still best friends, Justin said so. But Trace was around all the time. It wasn’t the same. And besides, the house was on the other coast, the one with the rappers who laughed at Chris for his clothes and barely bothered to pretend it was a joke.
JC said that Lance would make it to space, Justin was gonna be a huge star, Chris wasn’t old, and Joey wasn’t fat. Chris liked staying with him in his LA home with the weird gray paint outside and the bouncy couches inside. Unfortunately, JC was inclined to keep Brazilian models and personal assistants around a lot and kept going to dinners with Tony that lasted until three in the morning.
Joey was too caught up in the whole RENT thing to go home much at all. And Lance was breaking Chris’ heart every five minutes by having stupid backers. It was terrible, how much Chris missed them both all the time. He even missed the stupid ferret. When he caught himself reading Doctor Seuss books and trying to learn how to say “I do not like them, Lance-I-Am,” in Russian, he knew he had to act quickly.
Justin wasn’t happy to be dragged out of bed, and neither was Alyssa. She did, however, look very cute naked. Chris wanted them all to drive out and watch the sun rise from the deck of the Queen Mary, and maybe play tourist a little. When Justin commented that the sun *set* over the Pacific, Chris took offense at the implication he didn’t know this. Ayssa decided Justin had stupid friends, and mentioned Trace’s attempt to get an autograph on his buttcheek.
It took Chris, Alyssa, and a hastily-summoned JC to talk Justin out of waking Trace up to kick his ass. The Queen Mary tour was scrapped, but Chris felt better anyway. Especially when JC made Chris come home with him and promised Justin he’d be kept out of trouble.
It was nice to be important enough to have to be guarded.
The lawsuit was big, and terrifying because it reminded him so much of Lou. The plaintiffs said cruel things, as if they were legal facts. The first day of negotiations seemed endless. JC tried to be optimistic, but told Chris he could always count on him for food and shelter, which wasn’t really encouraging.
Except that when JC took him to his house and made him soup, massaged his shoulders, and told him to consider himself at home, it was maybe more than a little nice. And when he got a bit maudlin, saying how much he missed the other guys, JC took him up to his own bed, which was soft and comforting. He woke up there, too, with warm JC wrapped around him. He thought maybe it was home, after all.
~
end transmission
Did anyone notice I was gone?
::echoing: gone, gone, gone...::
Okaaay, then.
Migraines stink, work interferes horribly with fandom, and etc.
While I was gone I watched a whole un-fandom-related film! Well, actually, I lie. Scully was in it. It's called "The House of Mirth", and it made me cry like an infant at the end. I loved it.
I am working on a real story, which may or may not ever see the light of day. But, at least I'm working on it.
And Now for Something Completely Different.
~
Home
by serpentinegratificationbilly
They’d been young, even Chris, and he’d liked Justin’s house because it was big and fancy and the kind of house he’d never been allowed to play in when he was a genuine child. JC’s house was immaculate but comfy, in the same way that JC was both extraordinarily beautiful and constantly rumpled. Joey never stayed at his house unless he brought Kelly there, and Lance’s place was full to the rafters of an annoying ferret.
Then they got older, and Chris didn’t like staying in Justin’s house because it was big and fancy and the kind of house he’d never been allowed to play in when he was a genuine child. It had white couches that stained easily if you spilled beer on them, and people who wore expensive watches, and women who sneered at him for being over thirty and letting his business fail. The play station was hidden in Justin’s bedroom where it was suddenly awkward for Chris to go.
They were still best friends, Justin said so. But Trace was around all the time. It wasn’t the same. And besides, the house was on the other coast, the one with the rappers who laughed at Chris for his clothes and barely bothered to pretend it was a joke.
JC said that Lance would make it to space, Justin was gonna be a huge star, Chris wasn’t old, and Joey wasn’t fat. Chris liked staying with him in his LA home with the weird gray paint outside and the bouncy couches inside. Unfortunately, JC was inclined to keep Brazilian models and personal assistants around a lot and kept going to dinners with Tony that lasted until three in the morning.
Joey was too caught up in the whole RENT thing to go home much at all. And Lance was breaking Chris’ heart every five minutes by having stupid backers. It was terrible, how much Chris missed them both all the time. He even missed the stupid ferret. When he caught himself reading Doctor Seuss books and trying to learn how to say “I do not like them, Lance-I-Am,” in Russian, he knew he had to act quickly.
Justin wasn’t happy to be dragged out of bed, and neither was Alyssa. She did, however, look very cute naked. Chris wanted them all to drive out and watch the sun rise from the deck of the Queen Mary, and maybe play tourist a little. When Justin commented that the sun *set* over the Pacific, Chris took offense at the implication he didn’t know this. Ayssa decided Justin had stupid friends, and mentioned Trace’s attempt to get an autograph on his buttcheek.
It took Chris, Alyssa, and a hastily-summoned JC to talk Justin out of waking Trace up to kick his ass. The Queen Mary tour was scrapped, but Chris felt better anyway. Especially when JC made Chris come home with him and promised Justin he’d be kept out of trouble.
It was nice to be important enough to have to be guarded.
The lawsuit was big, and terrifying because it reminded him so much of Lou. The plaintiffs said cruel things, as if they were legal facts. The first day of negotiations seemed endless. JC tried to be optimistic, but told Chris he could always count on him for food and shelter, which wasn’t really encouraging.
Except that when JC took him to his house and made him soup, massaged his shoulders, and told him to consider himself at home, it was maybe more than a little nice. And when he got a bit maudlin, saying how much he missed the other guys, JC took him up to his own bed, which was soft and comforting. He woke up there, too, with warm JC wrapped around him. He thought maybe it was home, after all.
~
end transmission
