February Festival ~ Day 1 ~ Great Opening
This is in response to pensnest's suggestion that we do a February Festival.
My apologies for posting this late, but at least I’m getting it up here!
Coldhearted by Jae
I. The Bet
Afterward they could never remember whose idea it was. Chris swore it wasn't his, and Lance was just as certain he hadn't come up with it. It could have been Joey, except for the whole sleeping with men thing, and everyone agreed that Justin was so drunk he could barely stand, much less come up with an intricately detailed bet involving carnal knowledge of a pop sensation. No one ever thought it was JC.
There was a lot of beer, everyone remembered that, and a lot of boasting, most of it from Justin, and somewhere in the haze of pot smoke the bet was born.
"Ew," Justin said, lying the length of the couch with his head in JC's lap. "Backstreet Boys? Do we have to sleep with all of them? Cause I'm not sleeping with all of them."
"Nah," Joey said. "Just the one."
"I call Nick!" Chris and Lance said at the same time.
I know, I know, this story gets recced all the time, but there’s a reason for that. Every time I read the first few paragraphs I get sucked right into it again, and even though I know how it ends I still enjoy the journey.
A Fairy Tale by Katie
Chris had been in bed by 11:45 for once, so he was a little surprised when he woke up a frog. He probably should have been more than a little surprised, but it turned out that frogs' brains were kind of small and inclined to serenity. Except for those moments when flies wandered by and suddenly everything was RED-HOT PREDATOR and then back to serenity.
Flies weren't half bad.
**
The thing that amazed JC the most was that frogs could totally press cell phone buttons with their little pointy toes.
"No, seriously, Chris is a *frog* and what you're excited about is that he called you on his cell?" Lance asked, watching morosely as one-fifth of their band basked in a saucer of water.
"This is so going to fuck with our choreography," Justin said. He was keeping his distance, not willing to risk warts.
This is a short, perfect little piece of crack.
Come Back New by Velma
JC loses his way somehow, sometime between LA the first and LA the second. It isn't intentional, it's no one's fault, but it happens.
And he's miserable as a result. Pop Odyssey is his own personal hell, his descent into Dante's Inferno. At night, after shows, he crawls onto buses or into hotel rooms, his back to the others, and sleeps. Sleeps and sleeps and tries to shut the world out. He's lost.
Lost, and he doesn't know how to fix it, how to get back to where this was good. Where this was fun and he enjoyed it and it wasn't a paycheck, a job. It was a living. It was his life.
He sits in a dim, smoky club in LA and watches Tony sing, just him and a guitar. Tony's practically naked up there, and all alone, and JC has never wanted something so badly. He's never been so terrified of something in all his life.
He wants to be Tony, get inside his skin, go Freaky Friday and just be him for a few days. He tells Justin this one night. Tells him when it's late and they're tired and they've all had a few too many beers, and JC's not exactly thinking straight. Because Justin, really, is the last person he should talk to about this.
In this story JC is depressed, and he spends a lot of time envying Tony’s artistic freedom. Chris helps JC learn to trust in himself again. I like the characterizations of JC and Chris, and I really want to bitch-slap the Justin in this fic.
My apologies for posting this late, but at least I’m getting it up here!
Coldhearted by Jae
I. The Bet
Afterward they could never remember whose idea it was. Chris swore it wasn't his, and Lance was just as certain he hadn't come up with it. It could have been Joey, except for the whole sleeping with men thing, and everyone agreed that Justin was so drunk he could barely stand, much less come up with an intricately detailed bet involving carnal knowledge of a pop sensation. No one ever thought it was JC.
There was a lot of beer, everyone remembered that, and a lot of boasting, most of it from Justin, and somewhere in the haze of pot smoke the bet was born.
"Ew," Justin said, lying the length of the couch with his head in JC's lap. "Backstreet Boys? Do we have to sleep with all of them? Cause I'm not sleeping with all of them."
"Nah," Joey said. "Just the one."
"I call Nick!" Chris and Lance said at the same time.
I know, I know, this story gets recced all the time, but there’s a reason for that. Every time I read the first few paragraphs I get sucked right into it again, and even though I know how it ends I still enjoy the journey.
A Fairy Tale by Katie
Chris had been in bed by 11:45 for once, so he was a little surprised when he woke up a frog. He probably should have been more than a little surprised, but it turned out that frogs' brains were kind of small and inclined to serenity. Except for those moments when flies wandered by and suddenly everything was RED-HOT PREDATOR and then back to serenity.
Flies weren't half bad.
**
The thing that amazed JC the most was that frogs could totally press cell phone buttons with their little pointy toes.
"No, seriously, Chris is a *frog* and what you're excited about is that he called you on his cell?" Lance asked, watching morosely as one-fifth of their band basked in a saucer of water.
"This is so going to fuck with our choreography," Justin said. He was keeping his distance, not willing to risk warts.
This is a short, perfect little piece of crack.
Come Back New by Velma
JC loses his way somehow, sometime between LA the first and LA the second. It isn't intentional, it's no one's fault, but it happens.
And he's miserable as a result. Pop Odyssey is his own personal hell, his descent into Dante's Inferno. At night, after shows, he crawls onto buses or into hotel rooms, his back to the others, and sleeps. Sleeps and sleeps and tries to shut the world out. He's lost.
Lost, and he doesn't know how to fix it, how to get back to where this was good. Where this was fun and he enjoyed it and it wasn't a paycheck, a job. It was a living. It was his life.
He sits in a dim, smoky club in LA and watches Tony sing, just him and a guitar. Tony's practically naked up there, and all alone, and JC has never wanted something so badly. He's never been so terrified of something in all his life.
He wants to be Tony, get inside his skin, go Freaky Friday and just be him for a few days. He tells Justin this one night. Tells him when it's late and they're tired and they've all had a few too many beers, and JC's not exactly thinking straight. Because Justin, really, is the last person he should talk to about this.
In this story JC is depressed, and he spends a lot of time envying Tony’s artistic freedom. Chris helps JC learn to trust in himself again. I like the characterizations of JC and Chris, and I really want to bitch-slap the Justin in this fic.