I don't have a title for this yet........that is if I decide to complete it
So I was going to write a fic for Kradam bigbang-I had an idea and plot and all, but because of comps and being sick I didn't really have to time to get enough done in time for the deadline. Anyways I still had the idea kicking around in my head-basically Kris is a struggling Jazz musician in New Orleans and Adam won American Idol in season 8. I was reading Stephane Lambiel/Johnny Weir fic and 'Voodoo' came on my I Tunes and all of sudden I was inspired to write. Here's what I completed, let me know if it's worth writing more. Goes without saying that this is totally un-beated.
“Are you coming?” Charles barks at Kris.
“Where?”
Charles gives him an exasperated look. “To the parade of course. The big parade, with the king.”
“Do I have to?” Kris isn’t really in the party mood-he’d rather just go home and take a nap, maybe smoke a bowl, and go to sleep.
Charles apparently is a mind reader. “You are not going home. I know you are just going to go home and be lame and get high. This is Mardi Gras season man, and you are living in New Orleans. You haven’t gone to one single parade this whole season, and you’ve had weeks. You will go this one-it’s the big one, there’s a king, and plenty of beads.”
“Do I have show my man bits to get the beads?”
Charles smirks, “only for the king of this particular parade.”
Kris looks at him quizzically.
“Dude, you really haven’t been listening to me this last week have you?”
“Who’s the king…or whatever Charles?”
“Adam Lambert, you know the guy who won American Idol. Isn’t he your type?” Charles smirks.
“Just because I’m gay and he’s gay doesn’t mean that he’s my type. I’m not attracted to every guy you know.”
“How would you know? You’ve only been “out” for four months, in which, I might add you haven’t made any effort to get laid. How do you know what your type is?”
“Well I don’t think Adam Lambert should really be my test case.”
“Whatever man, you should still go out though. Who knows, it’s Mardi Gras, anything could happen, you might even get laid, even if it’s not by the “American Idol.” You just need to go out, so drop that guitar-it’s not like you’re going to get any calls to perform tonight, everyone’s going to be out having fun, which is what you are doing now.”
Charles’ isn’t going to broker any argument Kris can see. There is no way he’s going to be able to get out of this. “Fine, let’s go, but I’m not dropping my pants.”
Charles smirks, “you say that now, wait till I get a couple of drinks in you. You may be a pot head, but I know for a fact that you can’t hold your liquor.”
Kris groans, “oh great, what did I get myself into.”
“You’ll thank me tomorrow buddy.”
This is how Kris ends up drunk along St. Charles at 3 o’clock in the afternoon.
i don't have an explanation for it either
In other news there is a winter storm warning here, and I have a day off of work tomorrow. Awesome!
“Are you coming?” Charles barks at Kris.
“Where?”
Charles gives him an exasperated look. “To the parade of course. The big parade, with the king.”
“Do I have to?” Kris isn’t really in the party mood-he’d rather just go home and take a nap, maybe smoke a bowl, and go to sleep.
Charles apparently is a mind reader. “You are not going home. I know you are just going to go home and be lame and get high. This is Mardi Gras season man, and you are living in New Orleans. You haven’t gone to one single parade this whole season, and you’ve had weeks. You will go this one-it’s the big one, there’s a king, and plenty of beads.”
“Do I have show my man bits to get the beads?”
Charles smirks, “only for the king of this particular parade.”
Kris looks at him quizzically.
“Dude, you really haven’t been listening to me this last week have you?”
“Who’s the king…or whatever Charles?”
“Adam Lambert, you know the guy who won American Idol. Isn’t he your type?” Charles smirks.
“Just because I’m gay and he’s gay doesn’t mean that he’s my type. I’m not attracted to every guy you know.”
“How would you know? You’ve only been “out” for four months, in which, I might add you haven’t made any effort to get laid. How do you know what your type is?”
“Well I don’t think Adam Lambert should really be my test case.”
“Whatever man, you should still go out though. Who knows, it’s Mardi Gras, anything could happen, you might even get laid, even if it’s not by the “American Idol.” You just need to go out, so drop that guitar-it’s not like you’re going to get any calls to perform tonight, everyone’s going to be out having fun, which is what you are doing now.”
Charles’ isn’t going to broker any argument Kris can see. There is no way he’s going to be able to get out of this. “Fine, let’s go, but I’m not dropping my pants.”
Charles smirks, “you say that now, wait till I get a couple of drinks in you. You may be a pot head, but I know for a fact that you can’t hold your liquor.”
Kris groans, “oh great, what did I get myself into.”
“You’ll thank me tomorrow buddy.”
This is how Kris ends up drunk along St. Charles at 3 o’clock in the afternoon.
i don't have an explanation for it either
In other news there is a winter storm warning here, and I have a day off of work tomorrow. Awesome!