The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation

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children of dune - leto 1
Things Heard

I love my Austrian copatriots. I do. I am oh so patriotic and spirited and blah-de-blah. But right now? They scare me.

*loves them all*

This, however, does not preclude the feeling that if josselin does not finish scalping Justin really damn soon, I could very well go into decline and die. Just die. Right in the middle of my keyboard. It would be tragic.

Places to Go

Because a.) I'm behind, and b.) I spent my weekend writing Justin trying to avoid getting laid. Don't ask. Really.

The Queer As Folk Grocery Store Challenge. Many authors, many stories, none attributed. Big guessing game of joy and all.

Things I Want to Run Away From aka The Wip Collection

To lower the level of trauma involved, only things I actually think there's a chance in hell I'll finish.

How It's Gonna Be (QaF) -- in which I honestly think I must have been on some low-quality narcotics when I thought this was a *good* idea. Seriously.

This, Too (SV) -- this is actually done! rageprufrock has it. And is Doing Things to it. I'm not sure what that involves, but see? Totally not my responsiblity. Whoo!

Soundless (QaF) -- Pyjamafic for jaymalea Right now, I'm averaging one line every week. Expect it to be done sometime in 2008.

Foray (QaF) -- Daphne/f with velena It's her turn, dammit.

Look and See (QaF) -- Brian/Justin, Brian/Michael, etc. In pieces on my hard drive.

The Rain Gods (SV) -- It's there and it's doing nothing much, but it has the potential to eventually move. I'm still sulking because the crash that took my CD and DVD drivers also took the original first three pages and my memory is for shit.

And some others I've tinkered with, including, surprisingly, The Yard.


Because I am an utter coward and also, because the idea of being disciplined amuses me, I decided to be misskatherine's official NaNoWriMo cheerleader, in lieu of doing anything productive myself. Oddly, she thought this meant giving useful advice.

*sighs* At least she didn't ask me to get out my uniform.

Child Quote

On getting marked down for talking in class:

"My head told me to stop, but my heart told me to keep talking. And my heart's much more important."

This is what I get for letting him watch afterschool specials. That's *it*. Only educationally deficient cartoons from here on out.

I'm going to go sulk about something for a while. I don't know *what* yet, but I'll find something.

God, I'm bored. I'm *looking* for things to peeve me. Any suggestions?

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Go make it move and I will scalp Justin faster.

A tall brunet with killer abs walks by, and Justin takes a second to appreciate the long, slim lines of his body, the way he moves like he's the center of the known universe and knows it. Justin can't help it if he was imprinted young on type. A short, steamy glance from equally dark eyes is even better. Justin almost says something, almost gets up, because, okay, so he doesn't trick, he *can't* trick, but he can dance, but the second he shifts, oh yeah, he can't do that *either*.

The guy's gone when Justin looks back up, and James is grinning at him like he's the funniest thing ever. "Boyfriend keep you on a short leash?"

Justin remembers a certain evening only a few weeks back and cracks a grin. He can't help it. Brian doesn't play power games often. He doesn't need to. But when he does.... "Yes."

I'm working on it. *smiles sunnily*

:P So am I.

* * *

Brian was stiff--every muscle of his body was taut with tension, and it certainly wasn't helping Justin avert his nightmares. Finally he sat up.

"Jesus fuck, Brian," he said. "Do you want me to wear a bag over my head, or what?"

Brian flinched visibly, and got off the bed and stalked into the bathroom. Justin huffed out a sigh at him, then stole the duvet and padded over to the couch, trying to curl the blanket around himself so that his feet weren't left out in the cold.

Brian joined him a minute or two later, which was vaguely surprising, but he still didn't look Justin in the eye, which wasn't surprising at all.

Slowly, tentatively, Brian slid an arm around Justin's shoulders, which was perhaps the first time he'd wilingly touched Justin since the incident. Justin didn't say anything, but snuggled in a little closer. Brian was still tense, but was relaxing every second, whereas when they were on the bed, he'd seemed to be a spring coiling tighter every second.

"Are the scars really that ugly?" Justin asked sleepily, and then *he* immediately tensed, regretting that question. It made Brian tense up again too, which was what he had been trying to avoid, and he cursed at himself.

"No," Brian said finally, his voice rough. "It's the bed. I the fuck can you lay on the bed and not..." he trailed off.

*narrows eyes*

Not the answer James was expecting, and that makes him smile even more. Emmett shows up with drinks before James can say anything else, and Justin takes the glass gratefully, downing half before putting it aside. "You boys okay?"

"Fabulous." Justin licks his lips, watches James' eyes follow. He'd almost forgotten that part of this. "See anyone you like, Em?"

That Emmett's eyes flicker to James isn't good, but Justin thinks he can handle this. The worst of the muscle pain's receded, leaving aches and soreness, but not that much worse than after he and Brian have both been in the mood for taking sex very, very seriously.

"Slim pickings," Emmett says dismissively, eyes on James again. "Feel like dancing?"

Even Justin can't think of a reason to stop them, though God knows, he tries. James tosses him another look before following Emmett, losing themselves so fast in the crowd that Justin blinks, wondering if he lost time there. The hard beat has been working its way up his body by inches since they came in, taking over his fingers to tap on the bar, and right now, he would do anything, anything at all, to be able to get the fuck up and follow.

Watch from a discreet distance. Like two feet or so.

A brush of someone sitting down beside him. "Hey."

Justin doesn't look up, taking another drink of water. "Fuck off."

When he lifts his head, the guy's gone. Good. He's not in the mood anyway. Staring at the glass, Justin makes a decision and looks at the bartender, chatting up some too-thin blond with hygeine issues. God, they'll let anyone in here these days. "Beam,"

They don't ID him--at least, not anymore. He gets a once over that makes him want to snap something witty, but he doesn't feel too witty right now. Dropping cash on teh bar, eh takes a drink in a dirty gulp, shutting his eyes against the sharp burn. He *is* this stupid, but he's got to get out there, now.

yes, yes!! PoorHurt!Justin and bad James!!

He *is* this stupid, but he's got to get out there, now. Yes- don't like Justin drinking of the Beam & getting more anxious about James out there dancing with Emmett.

"I don't really remember it," Justin says softly.

Brian stiffens again.

Justin shifts over so he's half on Brian's lap, mostly just so the man can't escape while he's talking. "Not like...last time," he pauses, realizing how fucked up his life must be that there are multiple times he's had head injuries. "But's not what I think of when I'm in bed." He tilts his chin up to look at Brian, who's still stubbornly looking away at the wall. "With you."

Brian swallows. "Are you sure you didn't like the house?"

Justin shudders just thinking of all of that antispetic whiteness, and the giant guard dog who tried to slobber all over him while he tried to unobtrusively sidle away. "I didn't like the house," he tells Brian firmly.

Brian looks almost disappointed.

"I like it here." Justin continues, but that was the wrong thing to say, because Brian flinches again.

"Let's not talk," Justin offers, and that seems to relax Brian a bit. "Just hold me so I can get some sleep, now, okay?" He pushes on Brian a bit to get him to lie down on the couch.

he pauses, realizing how fucked up his life must be that there are multiple times he's had head injuries.
Waaaa!!!! & Poor Brian who just can't bear the memories now of the Loft- along with his aversion to parking garages & baseball bats!
*needs to be held now, too!*

It's not the easiest thing to navigate a dance floor when every bump makes you wince, but Justin gets by with a hard smile and wishing any and all non-fatal STDs on the person attached to every hand that grabs his ass. Any other time, the attention would be great, but the people keep *moving*, trying to pull him in, and he's on a mission, and how the *hell* did he think he'd find Emmett in this? Sweat's slicking his forehead, and he wipes at it absently, wishing he'd thought to bring the water with him.

The firm jerk of hands on his hips drag him to a painful stop, and Justin hisses a breath, trying to turn around, but he's held immobile against a bigger body, and short, uncomfortable flashbacks stop his breath.

Oh hell no. Not now.

Warm breath in his ear, making him twitch. "Looking for someone?"

Son of a bitch. "Where's Emmett?"

He's manhandled around, Jesus, this guy can't dance either. Then again, he may not be trying, and Justin bites his lip, jerking back against the confining hands holding him way too close.

James smiles down at him, setting a slow, undulating rhythm that with anyone else would have been hot. "Don't know. Ran off for some reason."

A few seriously nasty possibilities flash, but there's no point in upsetting Emmett, so why would James bother? The constant pulling is killing him, so Justin gives up, letting his body fall into automatic while staring up into mocking eyes. "You that bad a dancer?"

"You tell me."

A sharp jerk that sends hot pain down Justin's back, and Christ, the man's grinding against him, leaving fingerprints burned into the skin of his hips. Height, strength, age, and sheer, overwhelming presence. On any other night, a trick pulling this shit would be on the floor and unencumbered with *any* possibility of sex for awhile.

Any other night, Justin wouldn't come here drugged half out of his mind and shooting--at least, not for non-recreational purposes. He's such an idiot.

I'm reading a fic where Justin just got to lounge in a jet-whirlpool bath tub- & I just want to take Your!Justin and put him in that tub to soothe all his aches & bruises & take him away from James' hands!!

After the session, the shrink explains to Jennifer what they're planning to do, and Justin sort of lurks by the entrance to the shrink's building, standing in the shadow of the awning with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up.

The shrink is explaining earnestly, and Jennifer's nodding, and casting worried looks at Justin by the door and Brian leaning against the side of the Jeep, and then finally she turns to Justin.

"You ready to go, honey?"

Justin steps out into the sunlight, and then walks over towards the Jeep. "I'm going with him," he says, and that might be the first thing he's said all week.

God, I need *sleep*.


Dragging his gaze up, Justin sees James' slow smile, the way he tilts his head. One hand leaves his hip, the other tightening to compensate, and Justin winces when a big palm pushes into a fresh bruise. Christ. Then James fingers sift through his hair and this is going really wrong places fucking *fast*.

"Let go." Ground between his teeth, his voice sounds like broken glass.

"You sure?" Another grind that sends Justin's lip between his teeth, and James' hand tightens in his hair. "I'd think you'd be more interested in finding out what I know."

Know? What?

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

James smiles, wide and too-pleased, leaning closer, and for a horrified second, Justin thinks the man might try to kiss him. He pushes a hand into James' chest, and the fucker only laughs, pulling him onto the balls of his feet. Hot, humid breath against his ear. "I know where he is."

Justin freezes. No. He can't. He doesn't. He--shit. Fuck. "You don't know shit." But he might. The fucker might. And he-- "Let the fuck go."

For a second, he actually doesn't. Like they aren't in the middle of a public place, like Justin isn't perfectly capable of making a big enough scene for *someone* to notice. Of course, this is Babylon, and James might be counting on bystander apathy. And he just might be counting right.

Justin's never been really alone before, not like this.

Dark eyes flicker away from Justin's, glance over his shoulder, and Justin sees them freeze, narrow, a look that Justin's familiar with, because he's seen it on a lot of faces. And suddenly, James doesn't seem quite so terrifying, comparatively speaking.

The grip on his hip loosens even as he's pulled back, stumbling, Jesus *Christ* that hurts, a little pull at his hair when James doens't let go fast enough, and Justin doesn't even bother looking up, because he'd know this man in his sleep, even if the man in question didn't have a death grip that promised really bad, bad things.

Great. Just fucking *great*.

You think *you* need sleep. It's 6:30 in the morning here and I haven't slept at all 'cause I've been playing solitaire writing a paper.

Luckily, this last section woke me up, though, and I think I have a paper-worthy insight now. Maybe.

Damn, I lost at Spider again.

*giggles through a long yawn* It's right now 12:26 AM. I SHOULD BE IN BED.

I swear, I burned out brain cells.

Spider hurts me. I dont' think I've ever won it. Ever.

*growls at solitaire-like games* They all hate me.

*grins* Good luck on the paper!

No sleep yet!!!! Who Who!!!

It's Brian isn't it?? Returned to Pitts early to check up on Justin & his injuries?? right???!!! no sleep for you yet!!

You can't leave it THERE!

"I'm going with Him"

*sniff* Ohhhh!!! The memories- Love the re-use of that Line!! *sniff*

When It's All Said And Done

Justin steps out into the sunlight, and then walks over towards the Jeep. "I'm going with him," he says, and that might be the first thing he's said all week.

You know, years and years and years from now, when a competent mental health professional is taking that backward walk to see how Brian and Justin managed to forge a life for themselves after the Odious Scalping Incident of 2001, I believe they may just point to this one moment in time as the starting point of all the healing.

{Sigh}. Lovely.

he and Brian have both been in the mood for taking sex very, very seriously.

*combusts* I love those moods.

Ohhh!!!! Poor Justin & his scars!!

& Poor Brian!! He can't relax with his Justin in the Loft bed anymore!! ;'-(

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