(no subject)
Pssst. If you just got added - this is lonesomeoctober's fic journal. Just so you know.
Now, the real point of this entry: IT IS MIDNIGHT HERE SO OMFG HAPPY BIRTHDAY DUIA. It doesn't matter that all I really, truly know about Billy Martin consists of the following:
a) his name
b) that he is possibly the prettiest anything ever, and I want to have his gay little children
c) that he probably smells like oranges Benji oranges.
d) he is vegetarian.
e) I like his clothing line, and once I got a character in an RPG up to level 27, and I giggled. A lot.
f) Sometimes I read a quotation of his and it makes me sad that I don't know him, because we might share a brain. At least part of one.
Anyway! That's all I know, and I still write Beelee anyway. *nods*
Title: Super-Duper Title of Doom that Will Eventually be Decided Upon
Pairing: Duia requested it so you know it's retarded. ;) Read it and see!
Warning: live without warning In my world, everyone is gay, and that includes celebrities I like. And then sometimes I am considerate enough to let them have sex in my brain, and I write it down. In conclusion, this story contains MALE/MALE RPS FIC (OOOOH, SPOOKY) so run away if you're afraid of this.
Dedication: Duhhh. Pour ma chere cousine Duia, avec beaucoup d'amour. T'aime.
Notes:: This is a drabble, and shall become a something bigger at some point very, very soon. Because I think I might like writing the strawberry, even if writing my freaking idol is keeeeling me. Also . . . I want to go to Peru.
Sometimes Billy thinks the strangest things at the wrong times. For example, at an awards show after-party, his bandmates are strewn throughout the room, schmoozing with various celebrities. Billy, however, is leaning against a wall, lost in thought, wondering why people from Peru are called Peruvians instead of Perunians, aside from the fact that the former sounds kind of cool and the latter sounds like some kind of gardening tool.
"Penny for your thoughts." The nearby voice startles him; he hadn't noticed anyone approaching.
"Just thinking about Peru," he says with something that is half-smirk, half-smile, turning to see the face of the person who's actually bothered to talk to him. His eyes involuntarily widen when he sees who it is.
"Peru," Billie Joe says, lips quirking. "You ever been?"
Billy shakes his head. "Nope. So . . . um." It's usually not this hard for him to converse, but he's finding it hard to concentrate, so he sticks to the very basics of polite conversation. "I'm Billy, by the way."
Billie Joe nods. "I know," he says, and Billy's mood soars, because there's something incredible about one of your long-time heroes knowing who you are. "I'm Billie Joe," he says, and the introduction is completely needless.
Billy just smiles. All thoughts of Peru may not be completely out of his mind, but they've at least relocated to somewhere in the back of his head.
*
END SNIPPET ONE. Ummm . . . that kind of sucked. Sorry, chere. Shall write more tomorrow.
Now, the real point of this entry: IT IS MIDNIGHT HERE SO OMFG HAPPY BIRTHDAY DUIA. It doesn't matter that all I really, truly know about Billy Martin consists of the following:
a) his name
b) that he is possibly the prettiest anything ever, and I want to have his gay little children
c) that he probably smells like oranges Benji oranges.
d) he is vegetarian.
e) I like his clothing line, and once I got a character in an RPG up to level 27, and I giggled. A lot.
f) Sometimes I read a quotation of his and it makes me sad that I don't know him, because we might share a brain. At least part of one.
Anyway! That's all I know, and I still write Beelee anyway. *nods*
Title: Super-Duper Title of Doom that Will Eventually be Decided Upon
Pairing: Duia requested it so you know it's retarded. ;) Read it and see!
Warning: live without warning In my world, everyone is gay, and that includes celebrities I like. And then sometimes I am considerate enough to let them have sex in my brain, and I write it down. In conclusion, this story contains MALE/MALE RPS FIC (OOOOH, SPOOKY) so run away if you're afraid of this.
Dedication: Duhhh. Pour ma chere cousine Duia, avec beaucoup d'amour. T'aime.
Notes:: This is a drabble, and shall become a something bigger at some point very, very soon. Because I think I might like writing the strawberry, even if writing my freaking idol is keeeeling me. Also . . . I want to go to Peru.
Sometimes Billy thinks the strangest things at the wrong times. For example, at an awards show after-party, his bandmates are strewn throughout the room, schmoozing with various celebrities. Billy, however, is leaning against a wall, lost in thought, wondering why people from Peru are called Peruvians instead of Perunians, aside from the fact that the former sounds kind of cool and the latter sounds like some kind of gardening tool.
"Penny for your thoughts." The nearby voice startles him; he hadn't noticed anyone approaching.
"Just thinking about Peru," he says with something that is half-smirk, half-smile, turning to see the face of the person who's actually bothered to talk to him. His eyes involuntarily widen when he sees who it is.
"Peru," Billie Joe says, lips quirking. "You ever been?"
Billy shakes his head. "Nope. So . . . um." It's usually not this hard for him to converse, but he's finding it hard to concentrate, so he sticks to the very basics of polite conversation. "I'm Billy, by the way."
Billie Joe nods. "I know," he says, and Billy's mood soars, because there's something incredible about one of your long-time heroes knowing who you are. "I'm Billie Joe," he says, and the introduction is completely needless.
Billy just smiles. All thoughts of Peru may not be completely out of his mind, but they've at least relocated to somewhere in the back of his head.
*
END SNIPPET ONE. Ummm . . . that kind of sucked. Sorry, chere. Shall write more tomorrow.