ext_2300 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
vaudevilles.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2007-04-18 10:32 pm
vaudevilles.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-04-18 10:32 pm
Something to Talk About by Mary the Fan (R)
Fandom: POPSLASH
Pairing: Chris/Lance
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marythefan
Author Website: Mary's LJ Fic Index
Why this must be read: Just gorgeous. A clueless over-protective Chris who had no idea that Lance was gay. Now he knows he's worried. About Lance. Probably. And himself. Sorta.
Plus Mary has a list of popslash cross-dressing stories here and some popslash genderf*ckery links here for which I thank her immensely much.
"He didn't tell anybody," Chris says, pushing his free hand up under his bandanna and through his hair, dropping his head back against the mattress. It's suddenly an effort to keep his voice steady. "Because we weren't talking about it. Jesus."
Chris remembers this feeling of helplessness, although he's only ever related it to hollowness in his own stomach and 11-year-old hands roughened by farm work and edged with paper cuts from the brown bags at the grocery store that paid him under the table because he was too young to be on the books. And in solving that problem, he'd managed to create a whole new one, the same fame and fortune that freed his family creating a cage for Lance. He laughs, short and sharp and ugly.
Something to Talk About
Pairing: Chris/Lance
Author on LJ:
marythefanAuthor Website: Mary's LJ Fic Index
Why this must be read: Just gorgeous. A clueless over-protective Chris who had no idea that Lance was gay. Now he knows he's worried. About Lance. Probably. And himself. Sorta.
Plus Mary has a list of popslash cross-dressing stories here and some popslash genderf*ckery links here for which I thank her immensely much.
"He didn't tell anybody," Chris says, pushing his free hand up under his bandanna and through his hair, dropping his head back against the mattress. It's suddenly an effort to keep his voice steady. "Because we weren't talking about it. Jesus."
Chris remembers this feeling of helplessness, although he's only ever related it to hollowness in his own stomach and 11-year-old hands roughened by farm work and edged with paper cuts from the brown bags at the grocery store that paid him under the table because he was too young to be on the books. And in solving that problem, he'd managed to create a whole new one, the same fame and fortune that freed his family creating a cage for Lance. He laughs, short and sharp and ugly.
Something to Talk About
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject