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| The Hills Ran Red; James/Lars, very light Kirk/Lars, R | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: February 20, 2011, 2:57 pm (6,097 Views) | |
| youthanasia | October 4, 2011, 11:53 pm Post #76 |
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Poor Twisted Me
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There is literally nothing in life I want more than another part to this story. Seriously.
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| Isis | October 4, 2011, 11:59 pm Post #77 |
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TEA + CUDDLES
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Motherfucking THIS. Seriously one of my favorite slash stories of all time, right here. AUDREY WRITE MORE T_T |
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| ElisabethOrion | October 5, 2011, 12:40 am Post #78 |
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I'm creatively constipated.
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:horns2 Gimme moar gimme moar.
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| Jungleland | October 5, 2011, 2:02 am Post #79 |
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HUG PEOPLE
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Aw man, my ego was beginning to shrink I actually have the So What I need for details right next to me. Will try to write more tonight. |
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| Isis | October 5, 2011, 4:19 pm Post #80 |
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TEA + CUDDLES
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REALLY? ;; omg. This makes me so excite omg. askldjf jtgioe djklf the more Hills, the better.
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| Jungleland | October 23, 2011, 5:26 am Post #81 |
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HUG PEOPLE
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(there was a 'new' part here, it's gone now)
Edited by Jungleland, January 7, 2013, 6:29 am.
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| Isis | October 23, 2011, 5:46 am Post #82 |
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TEA + CUDDLES
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HAPPY ANNIVERSARY~ Write more. >> Anyway, god. My heart. ;; Poor Lars. kdjf ugh. |
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| Lars Mi Amor | October 23, 2011, 3:20 pm Post #83 |
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Lars the Great
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This did not disappoint me at all.... oh Lars :c
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| Jungleland | October 23, 2011, 3:27 pm Post #84 |
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HUG PEOPLE
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Glad it didn't
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| Voxx | March 1, 2012, 12:06 pm Post #85 |
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Some Kind Of Monster
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Okay, so... I read this fic in its entirety while I was still a lurker here and I think it was probably one of the first slash fics that I really, truly enjoyed! I think the relationship between Lars and James here is truly endearing. Lars' fear is so completely realistic I feel afraid for him!!!!So no pressure or anything, but I just wanted to comment and finally say how much I enjoy/love this fic and you're writing! Maybe, hopefully, you'll update in the future!?
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| Jungleland | March 1, 2012, 6:09 pm Post #86 |
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HUG PEOPLE
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Hee, thanks ![]() Believe it or not I'm still trying to write the rest. And I may have to scrap what I've written so far after lots of thinking, so it may just take even more time. lol |
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| Isis | March 1, 2012, 6:21 pm Post #87 |
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TEA + CUDDLES
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JUST WRITE IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT (after Biffno) WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITE lol /fangirl |
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| Jungleland | March 1, 2012, 6:26 pm Post #88 |
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HUG PEOPLE
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| Jungleland | January 7, 2013, 6:37 am Post #89 |
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HUG PEOPLE
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So if you actually read that tiny bit I posted last year, hope you forgot what it said. Ignore it. I finaaally managed to reach some kind of ending so here it is. The muses did whatever they wanted throughout, and it'd really take 20 more chapters to get that James where he was supposed to get. After so many years I'm tired of it (I have around 6 versions of this chapter, it drove me a bit crazy) and out of ideas for it, too. So here you go. Still hope people who still care about this story won't be too disappointed ![]() -- Lars's neck hurts like hell when he wakes up. There's a pounding in his chest and in his head too. After all these years, hangovers only got a little better--when he slowed down on the Jager and stopped banging his head against the walls. And they're proof he's still alive, if anything. "Made it through the fucking night?" "Yeah." His mouth is paste. His eyes won't open yet. James isn't standing too far, though. He can hear that. "Fuck." "I called room service." He clears his throat. "Got you tea." Lars's eyelids are willing to show him a tiny slit of the outside world. "Why are you being nice?" "You can always fuck off to your room." "No, no." He lifts a hand, like telling James to wait. "It's..." ...time to run to the bathroom. It tears his eyes open and he sees it on the right, a white little room still bathed in darkness and smelling of soap when he kneels in front of the toilet. No time to fumble for a switch. James makes a disgusted noise on the other side. As if he'd never done that to Lars, who always knelt down with him. Holding his long hair. Brushing his cheek. Taking care of him afterwards until he went back to sleep or shoved him out of the room. Good times. Bright neons suddenly light the room, and James's naked feet step into his field of vision when he's done wretching. Only spitting in the dirty water, trying to get most of it out. And keeping his blinded eyes mostly closed. "You done?" "I think...so." "Take a shower." The feet go away--he can hear the skin lightly stick to the tiles. "You stink." It takes time to get up and to the sink to rinse his mouth. His clothes are thrown over to the corner. They do stink--of sweat and smoke and alcohol. The first good feeling of the morning (is it even the morning?) wanders through his body when warm water hits him and his hurting back and his aching neck. He's in James's shower. The James he kissed again last night. James who didn't punch him, who didn't kick him out yet. James who looks like he gives a shit today. Sort of. The thought makes his heart bounce in a way that has nothing to do with murmurs. Maybe it was all worth it. There's a white robe hooked on the door that he can put on. His feet leave dark marks on the floor of the room as he walks toward the big bed, tying the soft belt around his waist. James is sitting there, munching on something, watching television with bored eyes. They don't look toward him when he sits and takes hold of his tea. Nice and warm. He doesn't even want to think of today's planning yet. Just enjoy the feeling of hot air rising up to his cheeks. There's only a puddle of water left at the bottom of the cup when James clears his throat again. "Last night, you said something in Danish." "Uh hu." When his face was hidden in the softness of James's sweater. Soothing softness. "Well, what did it mean?" I need you. "You remember everything you said when you were shitfaced?" Lars asks back. James still stares at the little screen, where a woman describes in details how wonderful their new vaccum cleaner is. "Sometimes." And he really does not remember half of what he said. He remembers the touches. He remembers the Danish... "What did I say?" "You asked stupid questions." "I ask myself stupid questions all the time. It's what smart people do." And he remembers that one question too. "Would you give a shit if I died?" "That's one." "Well?" "Well," James says, and takes a quick look at his watch. "Time to hurry the fuck up and go. Get some clothes on in your own room." He watches him turn the TV off and sit on a chair nearby to put his black shoes on. Then James adds: "Get out already." "It's okay. I can ask you again and again later. Like after the show." He tightens the knot of his belt and walks to the door. James is ready to leave, too, sliding his arms in his leather jacket. "On the plane. During the shooting tomorrow." "Whatever." The door open, they both go in opposite directions. Lars turns around, walking backwards, to see Jason waiting in front of the elevator at the end of the corridor. He sees him looking at James. Looking at Lars. Then the door. Then James again. Lars grins. ** Interviews, trip, show, whatever else--it all goes smoothly. His heart is going smoothly, even as he's walking back into the dressing room, his Calvin Kleins sticking to his thighs. The crowd was hot, and James acted as normally as his heartbeat--Lars suspects both could be just calm before the fucking storm. He tried to meet James's eyes throughout the day and tries again. They flicker to him--and nothing. The little group of lucky fans who were selected to freeze their asses off with them in Utah are already waiting in one corridor when he comes out. They must have been waiting for some time. Jason is already in front of them, signing things, being his fan-loving self. They look like Lars used to, standing there backstage with their idol and photos to be signed, pictures to take. He never really took pictures, he never filmed. Di'Anno asking if he feels like smoking hash and getting high will stay right here in his brain as just a memory that won't fade away. What would his fans answer? Jason must have some weed somewhere. Wanna get high? What would they say? They would turn their eyes to James. Because James would find a way to be here and hear that question of all fucking questions. "Hey! Lars!" Jason's overly cheery face smiles at him from the middle of the corridor. Two of the fans lighten up. Someone grabs his t-shirt before he can go forward. He sees James in his mind for a second, towering over him and frowning down at him. But it's Steffan, nice and smiley Steffan, asking him about a future So What article the kids are going to write themselves. He's in the middle of discussing their supervision when James swiftly walks past them. Not a look. Lars does look, though, and watches him strut to Jason. That other best buddy. "Lars?" They laugh with the kids. Jason leans in to whisper something in James's ears. "Uh." He turns around when James bends down to hear better. "Yeah. Go on." "More arguments?" He shrugs. As usual. "You don't look good." "I haven't been good in fucking weeks." "And he's not helping." He shrugs again. "Let's just board that fucking plane." Somehow, he manages to get his seat next to James after sharing some "hi" and some "how are you" with the fans. They'll keep everyone else busy. And they should keep him busy, too. He may get more amicable after some sleep. The plane takes off and shakes through the clouds. He watches Los Angeles get smaller and smaller, feeling the familiar pressure on his chest. Still no murmurs. "So?" he asks when the belt sign lights up. "Would you give a shit?" James folds a page of his magazine. Something about sports and snow. "You're still on that?" His focus stays on the article Lars can't read from where he is. He looks across the plane, almost giving up on an answer for the time being. Kirk is there with his I-know-everything smile and I-see-everything eyes. Then James says: "I don't know." "Huh?" The magazine is open on his thighs. His focus shifted to the night sky. "I don't know what I'd do." And it shifts back to his lap. "Anyway." He's not sure what to answer back. A "Thanks" comes out. His fingers brush another one of James's sweaters and they stay there, resting on his forearm. James's other hand turns a page. His own fingers go up, feeling softness again, and are close to skin. The back of a hand. There's an exasperated sigh, so Lars whispers quickly: "That's all I'm doing." He gets a little nod. His thumb caresses a patch of skin for a moment, then slides back on cotton. His eyes start to close on his hand on James's arm, on the tiny writing of a sport magazine. It's little things like this that count. And he'll be able to have more of those. And more. Until finally... Finally... |
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| Isis | January 7, 2013, 2:24 pm Post #90 |
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TEA + CUDDLES
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I'm so happy you finished it hon. It was a good ending. It fit. You already know what I thought, I left a lengthy review on Rockfic and it'd be silly to copy-paste it here. But Lars got what he could get out of this (extremely realistic) James. Well done.
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