JC Month - Day One
Jun. 1st, 2003 11:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aruanThis probably won't be a regular occurrence, but I make no promises.
JC is a very beautiful man. Not a word one throws around casually about anything, even less often about men, but he's absolutely stunning. I make no reserves about this. The luscious curly hair, the kind blue eyes, the pillowy lower lip, the dancer's lithely muscled body. But he's also this enchantingly endearing person, with the typical artist's disregard for practicality and an unconditional love for the subjectively beautiful, which in his case seems to mean all that glitters. He'd be the kind to compose you love songs while forgetting to stir the contents of the pot you asked him to keep an eye on. You can't help but love him.
Hm. And here I thought good JoLa was hard to find.
Red Hot Cool by Betty Plotnick
"When I'm done here, okay, C?"
He reaches around Lance's body -- just to mute the screen, not turn the computer off, because his life is still worth something to him, even in this state. He's giggling with almost no sound, just his breath ruffling Lance's barely-damp hair. It's a game. JC is stubborn. He loves his life, except for three hours after a concert, when he feels like he's wasting it, locked in place, killing time when he should be having it all.
JC lives and breathes for the music he makes, and I believe he does get up every morning and thank whoever he feels needs thanking for having provided him the chance to do so because he downplays his own talent so readily. The pacing in this story is amazing in the way it reflects JC's energy and mood, things he gets from rock & roll rather than the more conventional sex and drugs. Also, it's kinda very intensely hot. I like JC wanting things, I like that he's not afraid or self-doubting, and has enough matter-of-fact assurance to spare for his intended. Mmm.
*
In other news, I am both Slut!JC and Slut!Joey. There are worse things in life.
JC is a very beautiful man. Not a word one throws around casually about anything, even less often about men, but he's absolutely stunning. I make no reserves about this. The luscious curly hair, the kind blue eyes, the pillowy lower lip, the dancer's lithely muscled body. But he's also this enchantingly endearing person, with the typical artist's disregard for practicality and an unconditional love for the subjectively beautiful, which in his case seems to mean all that glitters. He'd be the kind to compose you love songs while forgetting to stir the contents of the pot you asked him to keep an eye on. You can't help but love him.
Hm. And here I thought good JoLa was hard to find.
Red Hot Cool by Betty Plotnick
"When I'm done here, okay, C?"
He reaches around Lance's body -- just to mute the screen, not turn the computer off, because his life is still worth something to him, even in this state. He's giggling with almost no sound, just his breath ruffling Lance's barely-damp hair. It's a game. JC is stubborn. He loves his life, except for three hours after a concert, when he feels like he's wasting it, locked in place, killing time when he should be having it all.
JC lives and breathes for the music he makes, and I believe he does get up every morning and thank whoever he feels needs thanking for having provided him the chance to do so because he downplays his own talent so readily. The pacing in this story is amazing in the way it reflects JC's energy and mood, things he gets from rock & roll rather than the more conventional sex and drugs. Also, it's kinda very intensely hot. I like JC wanting things, I like that he's not afraid or self-doubting, and has enough matter-of-fact assurance to spare for his intended. Mmm.
In other news, I am both Slut!JC and Slut!Joey. There are worse things in life.
