If any, today was a prime example of what it means to be unsalvageable.

And yet, this story has a happy ending! Eventually. I swear.

( No good, very bad day, culminating in this: )

Jules: ::in a towel and hastily-procured shirt from Jon, hair dripping all over the commons floor:: Hey, my roommate locked me out of our room.
Murphree Area front desk girl: Do you have ID?
Jules: ::tries not to wring her neck:: No, I must've left it in my other towel.

It may not have been my day.

But then!

( I'm generally much more of a listening person, so feeling sparkly and intelligent and just being competent in a social situation always leaves me disproportionately happy. )

And really, there's nothing that a double shot of espresso in a grande Gingerbread Latte won't fix. I'm much too awake even proportionate to the kind of awake I would be if it were an hour I'm supposed to be awake instead of the impossibility that is my being awake at all right now.

The haven't-seen-them-therefore-new-to-us pictures of Justin and Britney are really too, too adorable. Those crazy kids. I've been having Issues with Britney being written off as an inconsequential beard in the story of Justin's life lately because yo, those two were the real McCoy.

And Rio! silentfire is so my hero for sending over Rio! I know exactly one line, the first of the chorus, and have been singing it randomly for the past week. Maddening, I tell you.

slimslash is the sweetest thing in all the history of sweet things. Just as a general note.

And now I'm warm, drugged to the gills with endorphins, my legs are silky smooth, and my desktop's changed from dacey's ingenious wax museum Justin/JC manip to just JC, singing his little heart out with a starburst of pyrotechnics going off behind him and looking more beautiful than any one creature has any right. There's a deficit of pretty in the world, and it's all JC Chasez's fault. Damn if I'm not grateful.

However briefly, the world is good again.

Justin Month, Day Twenty-Four

It seems I am a woman of few words today.



Word to all our mothers.

Back of a Car by Jae

Chris twisted his hips, thrust a little harder, and Justin's groans changed pitch, became louder, higher. It would never occur to him to cloak that neediness. It would never occur to him that Chris would hear it and remember it and might make him pay for it somehow. Justin opened his eyes and took a hand off the car door, cupped Chris' chin.

"Stop thinking," Justin said, and kissed him, and for a moment Chris did.

What Jae said. Justin might give his trust with the utmost caution but when he does it's unconditional, almost to a fault because nothing is as perfect as he hopes. But Chris might be.