Okay, look here and *see* her meanness.
I'm contemplating that entire fifty icons thing. It's like Fangirl Farr or something all over my friendslist. I'm not sure I even *have* fifty icons to put up all at once. Do most people?
Though really, the horrors I could come up with, considering the ickiness I'm capable of in icon-making....
How to Be Heartless
*computer goes down as client (C) comes up. N is one of the other clerks*
C: I need a Medicaid card.
J: Let me check--the computer's acting up....
*does things. Computer mocks.*
J: Okay, it looks like it's not going to work. We have two options. One--
C: Not going to work? I've been waiting *two (baaaaad word) hours* and you couldn't have told me this before?
J: It was working before.
*unkind sidenote--C had a silver ball stud in the skin just below her nose, upper part of the upper lip. from distance, jenn's desk, say, looked like really large pimple. jenn gets little entertainment sometimes.*
C: So it's not working.
J: *feeling bad* Not right now, but--
C: *says several unkind things and stares at jenn in a not-very-kindly way*
C: Well, (baaaaad word) You people are a pain in the (baaaaad word) ass.
*jenn abruptly loses all sympathy*
J: *huge sunny smile* And you have a great day too!
N: *waving at departing back* Have a lovely day, ma'am!
I make my own fun.
Places to Go
Didn't I say I was behind? Mean-writery josselin.
While We Tell of Yuletide Treasure: Secret Santa in Obscure Fandoms I keep looking at the list, thinking, I could do that, I could do *that*, but then again, what if they ask me for like, Baron Harkonnen slash?
Okay, so at least it would be canonical, but the movie? Scarred me for *life*.
At least I'm not seeing Pokemon. Yet.
Things I Don't Want to Do But Probably Will Anyway
I actually said that I'd never write another crossover, but in LJ the other day, Joss mentioned Lex/Justin, and well, Lex is slashable with like, tree bark. So of course, the first thing I thought when it was mentioned was not "oh, what*ever*" but rather, is there a good reason for Justin to be in Metropolis?
*shakes head* He just isn't a tights kind of boy. At least, I hope not.
Though I could just send them both to Chicago. I send everyone to Chicago to traumatize them fictionally. Chicago for Trauma, New York for good sex. Canada for falling in love and running away. Texas for cage fighting. California for Deep Revelations and Stuff. Once I sent people to Phoenix to dance. Because I can.
He burned on nothing but air for hours before they left. Softer now, boots kicking at nothing when Brian pushes the loft door open before the sun's touched the horizon outside.
A ball of golden, boneless boy slung over one shoulder, giggling into his back, fingers worked into the waist of his jeans. Scratching every so often, just to make him shiver. Liquid when spilled onto the couch in a tangle of silver mesh and leather, smiling at the ceiling with glassy eyes.
Brian's hands comes away slicked with glitter, the smells of alcohol and sweat, teenage boy, and a long night on the floor.
"Playtime's over," Brian tells him, and Justin closes his eyes on a smirk, tiny pink tongue slicking parted lips.
He watched Justin for hours tonight. Incandescent in motion, wrapped in light and sound and feeling, and Brian remembers how he tasted, metal and vodka coating his tongue. They don't id him anymore, if they ever did.
"What did you take again?"
Justin opens his eyes on the ceiling. "Sing the song."
It's stupid. "A, B, C, D..."
"E. E. E." He's laughing, feet kicking into the air like Gus. "I'm so high."
Bent back against the bathroom wall, legs wrapped around his hips, Justin licked the hit out of Brian's mouth, eyes closed like this. Sharp little nails sinking into the back of his neck. Soft, pretty mouth whispering dirty things against his lips.
Justin sits up, fingers twisting in the collar of Brian's shirt, pulling remorselessly. "Brian," Justin whispers against his ear, wet and warm. "Have you ever noticed that the loft smells like carrots?"
And then there's this. "Bedtime."
Justin's fluid beneath his touch, melting against him once his feet touch the floor. Something to be picked up and carried along, humming some crappy hip hop from CDs Brian would never allow in the loft.
Brian doesn't bother with the lights. He could find his way in perfect dark.
Justin spreads across the bed as slow as honey, fingers restless on the duvet as he lifts his head. "It's kind of like being blind in here." Even in the dark, Justin finds him effortlessly, one leg sliding around the back of his thigh, and Brian lets himself be pulled against the platform. "I'm not, am I?"
"No." Brian braces one arm on the bed to keep his balance. "Try opening your eyes."
Justin's pulling him down, mouth soft and warm. This easy twist of his body, and Justin's straddling him, eyes wide and dark. "That helps. Did you know that you're glowing?"
"You're so fucking high."
"Like--like fluorescence. Luminescence." The SATs were unfortunate, Brian thinks, watching Justin's forehead screw up in concentration. "Bright. Something really, really holy."
Brian snickers. Some people find religion in church, but Justin tends to find it in orgasm. Not so different--both find him on his knees. "You think that, Sunshine."
He's close enough to see the smile, flash of white teeth and then Justin's pulling at Brian's shirt and then his own, murmuring about heat exhaustion and preventing strokes in this reasonable tone that would sound so much better if he wasn't tilting starboard the entire time. He's loose enough to roll onto the bed, high enough to just stay there, shirt caught under his arms and staring up at the ceiling like it's the Sistine Chapel. Or like it's promising him the world's best blowjob. "This is so cool."
Someone make this thing move or I swear, I'll kill them both in bed just so they'll leave me alone. Pajamafic my ass. They won't even undress, dammit.
*sulking with a good reason now*