New Fic!

Written for the Sandys' Small Change - A JC Challenge that featured lyrics by Tom Waits. Mine were:

all my friends are married
every Tom, Dick, and Harry
you must be strong
to go it alone

Here or gussied up on my site.

( JC coughs a little, hating to cover pump duty even though Dale had called in sick. The fumes hurt his throat and dealing with the pissy people is just easier when there's a glass partition involved. While not much better, it is somewhat cleaner. He sells packs of gum all day and overhears the strangest things. )

Feedback of all kinds is welcome, below or at iwan2kno@ufl.edu.

More than words, y'all.

I've yet to go back and comment on everyone's entries but I'm fresh out of class and onto celebratory food things, but man. In some way, maybe the fact that it's been everyone else reminding me that my birthday's coming up has been due to the fact that I really didn't think I had much in the way of opportunity, mode, or time to make this one memorable. But so far today, I've:

-finished and timely posted challenge fic which couldn't have happened without people who know exactly who they are
-been serenaded by thrice the boys collectively and once by JC individually, not to mention the Beatles and Arrogant Worms cameos as well
-found sparkly things in the mail with promises of Junior's cheesecake (can I just take this moment to *swoon*) to come
-been privy to a special birthday greeting by the two boys I love together best
-frolicked with Australian calendar models
-the PuppyShelters are back up and four again, which is only relevant if you squint and tilt your head just so
-been gifted with poignant TimberTrickery, text messages and phone calls galore, beautiful renderings of the men and lady of Lord of the Rings, and a lyrics-based icon project that made me sniffle like the deep-down schmoop-loving wee girl that I am
-and many, many other lovely well-wishes of good health, naughty boys, and good fortune for the coming year.

All thanks to you wonderful people. And there's still another five hours to go! Strife? Feh. What strife.


[ETA: Just got off the phone yet again - my brother's solution to the masses of homework I have to do tonight? "Show a geeky kid your boobs and tell him to do it for you." His sage words as to how I should deal with the fact that I have to be up at six o'clock tomorrow morning? "Just remember to drink lots of water and that way you won't get a hangover." Should I still choose to forgo his wisdom, "get drunk as soon as possible." I love him "".]

Justin Month, Day Thirty

That was me tonight, except about six years older with a martini glass and my girly frou-frou mango margarita. Mmm. Happy you month, baby.

Going to the Chapel by Lise

The proposal had gone like this:

Justin had got down on his knees in the middle of Lance's favorite restaurant in New York. "Lance," he had said, "there's a hundred people here, for your birthday, and they're all going to laugh at me if you say no," and then he pulled out a really nice ring, and then added, "and I can't take the ring back, so even if you say no, you'd better like the fucking ring."

Oh, Justin. There's nothing like a good author wallowing in her OTP, and Lise does it with an honest compassion that's absolutely charming.