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what if you're making me all that i was meant to be (lessons in intimacy) -- part five

Dec. 26th, 2012 | 02:05 am


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what if you're making me all that i was meant to be (lessons in intimacy) -- part four

Dec. 26th, 2012 | 02:05 am


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what if you're making me all that i was meant to be (lessons in intimacy) -- part three

Dec. 26th, 2012 | 02:02 am


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what if you're making me all that i was meant to be (lessons in intimacy) -- part two

Dec. 26th, 2012 | 02:01 am


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what if you're making me all that i was meant to be (lessons in intimacy) -- part one

Dec. 26th, 2012 | 01:45 am

title: what if you’re making me all that i was meant to be (lessons in intimacy)
rating: pg-13 for language
pairing: sean/tom
author: me
disclaimer: this is not real. i do not own these boys.
word count: 23, 500
credit: first half of the title belongs to chris daughtry.
a/n: here comes the litany of thank-yous...
emma: you managed to be exactly what i needed at the time i needed it. i was and am so lucky to have you; our teamwork produced this, which i’m really proud of and happy with.
deb: your enthusiasm is unparalleled. okay, maybe you weren’t able to offer anything constructive aside from “asfhjdkkhdka" this time around, but trust me, that helps too. one of my favourite parts of writing is hearing what you have to say afterward and putting those hearts in your eyes.
erika, sharon, brittany, steph, nancy: thank you guys so much for your help and your input. the story is much better for it.
summary: tom would tell him this later, once the words were no longer dangerous and uncertain, like a grenade thrown with closed eyes. that during that first winter, he’d truly felt that sean could walk into a room on the bleakest, most unhopeful of days, and transform it. forgotten were the angry winds that shook the trees and the windowpanes; simply unthought of was the decision he’d made to stay inside until june, maybe later. he wouldn't be speaking theoretically: sean had done that more than once.

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paperplanes.

Jan. 4th, 2012 | 05:06 pm

Title: paper planes
Pairing: Tom/Jon
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 685
Author: Me! (mindscomeloose)
Disclaimer: This never happened.
A/N: This was written about something Nancy,  ofvanity wrote . It’s a companion piece, and the bit at the beginning is hers. Thanks for permission. <3 Hope I did it justice.

-paper planes.
in photography class. with boredom leaking from their fingertips and excess amounts of paper. tom built paper planes and sent them soaring across the room, into jon's grip. with scribbled out ideas, scribbled out suggestions. ideas tom hardly spoke on paper. ideas that were meant for snuggled sighs, meant for swaying hips and swerving lips. across the room in safety.


i.

Tom was going crazy, or at least it felt like that. The classes he had been taking had sharpened his vision in a matter of months, and sometimes he worried that it had been too much. He didn't just filter out what he was photographing, he saw everything. Swirls of smoke in the grimy light in the late late late night hours, so late it was almost morning. Each and every stitch on the cable-knit sweater the girl in front of him wore. The tastebuds on the tongue of the dog that followed him to and from school some days. Wrinkles on the hands and faces of everyone he shook hands with: professors, relatives, acquaintances. He probably would have memorized all of the sidewalk cracks had it not been for Jon.

With a clumsily folded paper airplane, a jotted, why the long face, conrad? and a crooked smile, Jon started something. Tom wasn't quite sure what that something was, whether it was purely a vehicle to pass the lackluster lecture time or it if was intended to garner momentum as time passed. Whether it would leave a dull ache or a ripple of pleasant nostalgia when it was gone, because it surely would be soon enough. What Tom did know was that when he was with Jon, the world blurred. The visual cacophony Tom usually encountered was still there, but less so. He was able to see the world less intensely, as if Jon's relaxed disposition had saturated him from the inside out. He no longer got the painful headaches he used to feel from taking in the world, one centimeter at a time.

ii.

The first time they slept together was an accident. Tom hadn't wanted to go home, had passed out instead on Jon's couch. And Jon, not wanting to move him, had stayed pinned under him for the better part of the night, so close Jon couldn't tell where he ended and Tom began. Tom smelled like bitter, chemical, developing fluid blended with the syrupy booze-of-the-week that had been on sale at the liquor store. Jon slept lightly; it was hard to sink too deep with the feel of Tom's stubble coarse against his neck. It would leave it pink and raw like a sunburn.

The second time they slept together hadn’t been. Each move had been deliberate, careful with the decision to go at this sober. Jon's hands quivered as they undid the catches on his shirt, then reached for Tom's pants. Tom held Jon's hands steady on his hips as he let out a whimper and Jon had never been more thankful for the sound. The buzz of Tom's lips to the curve of Jon's shoulder echoed through Jon's whole body as Tom bucked against him, the ohs and whispers and sounds Jon didn't even have words for.

Afterward, in the rumpled sheets, Jon was reminded of the time before: their limbs wove, strangely beautiful like tangled yarn.

"It's like without you I'm in sharp focus. But so sharp that nothing is hidden; every stray hair, every faded freckle, I see that. But with you, I'm in bokeh. And I like that."

The words were said simply, breath clement on Jon's face. Though Jon didn’t have Tom’s half-blessing half-curse for observance, for seeing things that typically went unnoticed, he could still trace the undertone. And I need that.

“You are such a photographer,” Jon said, and he laughed, because he wouldn’t have expected more than a photography-laced comment from Tom, and he had been gifted one. It pushed against a rarely-touched place inside Jon that he’d thought had been forgotten.

I need that, too.

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and i don't feel a thing except your hand in mine (tell me nothing will ruin us) part two

Nov. 25th, 2011 | 12:29 pm

i had to put it in two posts!!!Collapse )



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and i don't feel a thing except your hand in mine (tell me nothing will ruin us) part one

Nov. 25th, 2011 | 12:23 pm
mood: excitedexcited

Title: and i don’t feel a thing except your hand in mine (tell me nothing will ruin us) - part one
Rating: PG-13 for angst and swear words and a little violence.
Pairing: Sean/Tom, Spencer/Ryan
Characters: Sean, Tom, Jon, Pete, Nick, Butcher, girl!Spencer, girl!Ryan, girl!Brendon, and Mike Carden.
Author: Me! (mindscomeloose)
Disclaimer: I can assure you, this never happened.
Word Count: 13,000
A/N: Enormous thanks to Deb, Erika, Nancy and Stephanie for your devotion, enthusiasm, ideas, and flails about this fic. I love you guys. ♥
Also, “thevanvlizzle" as Sean’s screenname - entirely Deb’s fault.
Beta: Erika (restlesslikeme) ♥ and Stephanie - thank you for doing this on such short notice.
Credit: The Fold and Gold Motel for the use of their words in my title.
Summary: it had been an unspoken agreement that they would go to ihop and not one of those swanky steak joints. it was just understood; like everything else about their prom experience, they weren’t going to settle for something conventional. it was almost like they were refilling their nerve at the pancake house with sugar, not booze. plus, they really liked ihop.

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As Long as Your Heart is Beating it Should Never Beat Alone

Oct. 9th, 2011 | 10:04 am
mood: happyhappy

Title: As Long as Your Heart is Beating it Should Never Beat Alone
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jon/Tom
Author: Me! (mindscomeloose)
Warning: Depression, a couple of swear words. Talk of existentialism and the human condition.
Disclaimer: This never happened. I do not own them.
Word Count: 2,120
Credit: Jack’s Mannequin for your inspiration in your fantastic new album. They also get credit for the title text.
A/N: Props go to Paisley, Erika and Deb for generally being thrilled about this. <3
Summary: Despite his best efforts, Tom remained resolutely listless, like a wilting plant. And that was when Jon realized that Tom was only going to get better if he wanted to, and no amount of exclamation points and talking to him like a toddler was going to change that.

     we are all just people, runningCollapse )

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365

Aug. 26th, 2011 | 04:36 pm
mood: giddygiddy

title: 365
pairing: sean/tom
rating: pg [500 words of shmoop]
author: me ! (mindscomeloose)
disclaimer: i do not own them. this never happened.
a/n: huge thank-yous to erika and deb, of course!
summary: he knew sean would say a gift wasn't necessary, that, cheesy as it was, tom was his gift, but everyone liked getting things, especially from the heart. even sean couldn't deny that.

+

an·ni·ver·sa·ry [an-uh-vur-suh-ree]
noun
1. the yearly recurrence of the date of a past event:
2. the celebration or commemoration of such a date.


+

       a year. that’s fifty-two weeks, 365 days, 525,600 minutes.
       of course tom couldn’t forget.
       in the beginning, he and sean had disagreed over what exactly the term anniversary meant to them; they had eventually settled on the day they realized that what they had - conversations that lasted well into the night, absolute honesty, a sense of displacement when they were apart - was love. january 18th of last year.
       yes, tom had known love - most everyone had, in some form - but not love like this. the difference was in the details - which one of them would carry the other up the stairs when they’d both had a little too much to drink, who would the first to start the fight and who would be the bigger person and apologize first. and who would go the extra mile to say, “you’re doing great,” on your worst day, even if it wasn’t true.

+

       sometimes things hatched better in tom’s head; he had such big ideas but sometimes they just didn’t translate into whatever they were supposed to, what he’d expected. that was what had happened with sean’s present, tom had to admit. for weeks he’d been mulling over the idea of writing for sean, for the date, an epic love poem or something, but when he sat down to write, regardless of whether it was a blinding computer screen or the simplicity of a pen and paper in front of him- it wasn’t working.
       he had tried standing. not any easier.
       lost in translation, that was what he was.
       that was where this idea had come in; he’d ended up with a hodge-podge of sorts and compiled it into his gift. he wasn’t quite clear on what to call it; haikus, poems, vignettes all blended together in a way tom hoped made sense. some of it could even be passed off as lyrics. he would sing it if that was what sean wanted. he probably wouldn’t want to, but he would.
       sean was the only one tom would let hear him sing. sean would insist on it at every corner, liking how words sounded in tom’s voice, gravelly and deep. sean had more than once said he wanted to bottle it. tom just blushed. he knew sean would say a gift wasn't necessary, that, cheesy as it was, tom was his gift, but everyone liked getting things, especially from the heart. even sean couldn't deny that.
       it wasn't his best work, and definitely not as good as sean’s - there was a reason sean was the writer and not him - but he knew how good sean was at recognizing effort. he’d seen that in tom, learned that from him: sometimes imperfection showed greater promise than impeccability.

+

        after tom was presented with his gift and sean with his, sean did ask tom to sing for him.
       tom did.
       sean loved it.

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