Title: Broken Dreams
Author: Spacemonkey
Fandom: Metallica
Rating: R
Pairing: James/Lars
Summary: Lars doesn't think.

Notes: For cobrasnaps...again. She challenged me to write a story based on/influenced by/while listening to "Alright" by Pilate and voila! A month late, I did it. YAY. It's really sad, if you listen to the song and wanna get deep into the story, and I would prefer you don't, because it was written uber quick.



Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

Any mention of Metallica, any associated entites, or any copywrited material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copywrited material.


( Lars wakes up early )

Yeah, okay, I'm still going on about my birthday, but shhh! I just splurged on my one and only present for myself, excluding all the other presents I bought for myself in the last few days, but I'M AWESOME!

Trin, I finally became a member of THE METCLUB!!! Standard only, because I have my registation due on my car this week and am not actually working while away, so therefore I don't have much money on my card, but as soon as I get some money (ie, as soon as I get my tax back in a few weeks) I am upgrading to full, because I WANT A T SHIRT AND ACCESS TO AWESOME! But omg, I have access to MissionMetallica and stuff and its awesome and omg, SoWhat! And eeeeeeeeeee!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ANITA( logos_00 ) FOR YESTERDAY/KINDA TODAY (the 6th). SORRY I WASN'T, STUPID STUPID FAMILY, WE HATES THEM!

Also, happy birthday to jonstewartisgod YAY!

And finally, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! *breaks hip*

So I'm at the fry station, minding my own business and bagging hash browns, when suddenly there's a noise behind me. Several noises. Several voices. Singing, out of tune of course, because that's the only way to sing Happy Birthday. I turn around, and all the crew currently on are standing behind me singing, and my manager is holding out a choc muffin with a candle stuck in. I turn bright red, they continue singing, and the customers in dining room join in, and I want to DIE.

Of course, I'm all awkward and stuff, and then they finish singing and I blow out the candle and all the customers are laughing at me, and I have to turn to them and say "it's not actually my birthday till Monday" but then my manager cuts in and does this sweet little speech about how he knew I wasn't going to be there on Monday, so they knew they had to jump in, how he hopes I have a wonderful day, bla bla and I almost started crying, the ASSHOLE. Then I take the muffin, which I am currently trying to choke down because it's disgustingly sweet, and leave it for later, and everyone buggers off. I thought my embarrassment would be over for the day, but noooo. Manager decides he feels the need to spend half his time standing behind me and telling customers "21, SHE'S ALMOST 21!"

Which of course started everyone on "I remember when I first met Carina, I thought she was only 15, I was shocked when I found out she was 20, bla bla bla, I'M AWESOME"

...stupid birthdays.

ETA: Happy Independence Day, all ye Yanks on thine Flist!

This is so fucked up and wrong. I loved this man so much, he was like my tv grandfather.

DEAR TRIN,

JAMES AND LARS WOULD LIKE TO WISH YOU A VERY HAPPY FOOKING BIRTHDAY, AND IF YOU DON'T ENJOY IT, JAMES MIGHT JUST KILL YA. LARS WILL WATCH AND BE ADORABLE WHILE DOING SO, AND THEN THEY WON'T HAVE SEX AFTERWARDS...SO YOU BETTER ENJOY YOUR GODDAMN BIRTHDAY!!


Oh yeah, I'd also like to say love and omg yay, happy birthday. Fic will be coming tomorrow...:( sorry. I literally just got home from the city after spending all fucking day either in the car or walking or getting my mouth violated, and now I have to go to bed because I hate my life and work, so I shall finish the eppiczor porn tomorrow. EEE!!!!





Got my braces off, btw all. My teeth are actually white and shiny underneath. Who knew?




ETA/PS/What the fuck ever: Another present Trin...




1, I want whatever Jason is on. 2, flying looks fun and 3, Lars needs to turn around, stat.

Yo, Anita. What you want for your birthday, babycakes? I got Trin all worked out, and myself all worked out (sitting back and letting everyone pamper me, but of course), but you...WHAT DO YOU WANT, MY DARLING????


PS. Looking at my last 4 posts, they've all used James/Lars icons, and Lars is on the left in all of them...I find this odd.

Title: Systematic Breakdown
Author: Spacemonkey
Fandom: Metallica
Rating: R
Word Count: 216
Pairing: James/Lars
Summary: Lars knows he should leave.

Notes: And part two... :DPart three is a work in progress, lol.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

Any mention of Metallica, any associated entites, or any copywrited material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copywrited material.


( Lars offers him a drink, a smoke and then some cash and a hotel room key. )

Title: Four AM
Author: Spacemonkey
Fandom: Metallica
Rating: R
Word Count: 267
Pairing: James/Lars
Summary: James is all about feel. Lars prefers to listen.

Notes: One of three fics that got worked on when I was "having a nap"...I NEVER SLEPT, FUCK YOU PHONE.


Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

Any mention of Metallica, any associated entites, or any copywrited material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copywrited material.


( when James stands in a room, it belongs to him )

Drunk.

Lol, Trin....check your rockfic account. I fail so much, I know.



Someone give me a starting sentence, I'm blocked. Wait, don't. I should go to bed. But starting sentence.......................



Interview went okay. Meh. My boobs looked fantastic in new top, for all those interested.

After painstakingly recreating James circa 2002 (with complimentary set of black rimmed glasses!) I then decided that there just wasn't a hairstyle to properly fit Lars circa any time, so I went with the classic shaggy weird emo thing and made his eyes really green and shoved some shorts on him to make it clear to me and only me that this man, as close in height to James as he was, was in fact Lars Ulrich, computer generated spouse of one James Hetfield, and he wasn't going to be messed with. No. These two were basass motherfuckers alright, posing for their family snapshot cuddling against each other.

The mansion building was time consuming, with every detail having to be perfect, as we all know that if there isn't a three block space all around the bed and a bathroom near by, it's a sign that the terrorists win. There were manly pinball machines and work out machines and art and the extra manly espresso machine, everything a man could want and more. And I also added some nice purple wallpaper. So the boys moved in, took a look at their manly things and I thought "yes, love the television. LOVE THE THIGHMASTER! LOVE EACH OTHER!"

With all the awesome things I gave them, you think they'd be amazed. But no, my two morons spent all day playing with the little toy car that goes vroom. Undeterred, I forced them into the sexing, but they quickly returned to the car and I hated everything in the world. When hating everything in the world, adoption seems like the only way to go. Someone to vent to, and possibly shake. So I got a baby. It was a girl. A little black girl. I named it Cali. Lars was overjoyed. James kinda liked the little thing, as long as I kept him away from the toy car that goes vroom. Or the tv. Or the pool. Or staring blankly into space and speaking gibberish. But he was there on occasion when Lars left Cali on the floor of the kitchen to...you know, go to bed and stuff.

But alas, things were going great, I had put so much effort into my little world of not doing my schoolwork. But just as I thought "my, this seems like the perfect time to save my game", compy went AHA! And updated my stupid virus protector and as it turned out, that was too much for compy to handle and the entire system froze. I cried, not caring about anything other than the fact that I'd gotten James to look perfect, something I knew would never happen again. No, next time, he'd end up looking like THE THING. So, quietly I turned off my computer, vowing never again would I play Sims 2. It was strangely reminiscent of last year when I vowed never again to play Sims 2 after my character died. Or the year before when I vowed never again to play Sims 2 after my brother created his own character in my neighbourhood and stole Sam from her loving husband Daniel, leaving the whole situation for me to find out the next day when they were trying to kill each other.

In conclusion, I shall play it again tomorrow.


Also, I have a job interview tomorrow. Undisclosed Cafe Manager position. Sounds...interesting. But ALAS. My breasts have struck again. I went to try on my old nice interview shirts to see what one screamed loudest "GET ME THE HELL AWAY FROM MCDONALDS" only to find they now saucily state "Oh my, I do think I just popped a button with the power of only my left nipple. Lets fuck". It's possible that predicament might just get me the job tomorrow, provided the hiring staff consists of either a lesbian or a male. Or both. Hmm...but no, now I gotta buy a stupid new shirt, all because of my giant boobs. WHY? WHY? AND HALFIN UPDATED LIKE THREE TIMES, BUT STILL NO PICTURES. OMG. CHEEK KISSING, WHY HAVEN'T I SEEN YOU YET?

PMOMG, Im so drunk, ui git [rroblems.



ETA, like HOURS later:

At the time, my violently vomiting and erm, falling asleep on the couch after 6 glasses of red wine in around a half hour seemed a bit extreme, but looking back, I'm not suprised I managed to sleep through half of Master of Puppets and up to NEM on The Black Album before people came home. Ughhhhh.

If my parents ask (and if they do, then ... well, that would be interesting and weird) my throwing up was completely unprovoked, ahem. THAT'S WHAT THEY GET FOR ABANDONING ME! But now Mum thinks I'm all sick and stuff, because I throw up maybe once every 4 years, and only when I'm really ill (I've never been sick drinking). But, hey, she's pampering me now. Win?

UGH, I FEEL SHIT AND HAVE OPEN TOMORROW. I CAN HAS LARS KISSING JAMES PIC NAO, HALFIN? NAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

The part of me will be played by myself, for I am naturally gifted and stunning and good with both children and animals...my ass is also insured.


So, today:

Me: Man, look at all these people demanding food while I am hating mankind. Jeez, I wish I was watching manporn right now. Annoyed. Angry. Motherfucking going to KILL!!

Boss: Bondie, get in here!

Me: *grumbles under breath as she stomps on wet floor away from needy customers to get to office* Whaddya want?!

Boss/Other Boss: *look at each other, brows raised* Did she just say Whaddya want???

Me: *long suffering inward sigh, don't have time for this shit, Halfin STILL HASN'T POSTED KISSING PIC* I meant it nicely, of course. *totally didn't, is fuming*

Boss/Other Boss: Oh, well if you meant it nicely... *Boss produces piece of paper*

Me: *eyes off paper, growing apprehensive about my behaviour 15 seconds ago* What's that?

Boss: *hands me paper and pin* YOU'RE CREW MEMBER OF THE MONTH! *long spiel about how I'm such a valued employer, always nice to people and polite and making people laugh and feel at ease, shakes my hand*

Me: *overwhelmed*

Boss: *shoves me out of office with many compliments and pats on back*

Me: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! *but also, holy shit, fucking embarrassed, the ONE TIME I'M FUCKING RUDE AND I GET AN AWARD* *spends rest of life embarrassed about said incident*

Other Boss: LOL

ATTENTION TRIN! HALFIN'S SITE IS BACK UP, AND I DIED:

June 3rd

We now sit in rush hour traffic for two hours, right through the centre of Prague, to get to the venue, the Slavia Stadion Eden. It's only been open a week, it is like being in a giant brand new kitchen centre, bright white. I like it for shooting. James hated the lighting - too bright. Started shooting Lars and James when Lars gave James a loving peck on the cheek.

Oh my.....


...ATTENTION ROSS HALFIN. WHY THE FUCK IS THIS PICTURE NOT UP? THERE IS NO, I REPEAT, NO EXCUSE.




Oh yeah, getting my hair cut tomorrow. I want some sort of fringe thing except not...blast, I hate getting my hair cut, I HATE IT. Also, was in a shit mood today at work, and it's always great when that happens (and it doesn't happen often) because people sense it even though I still put on a smile, and they don't make me do stuff. AWESOME!


SO ROSS HALFIN. I AM MENTALLY PROJECTING MY ICON YOUR WAY IN AN ATTEMPT TO GET THE RECREATION 10+ YEARS LATER, YOU FUCK.

Title: Fingerprints
Author: Spacemonkey
Fandom: Metallica
Rating: R
Word Count: 655
Pairing: James/Lars
Summary: Lars knows he should leave.

Notes: For cobrasnaps...again. She challenged me...again to write a story based on/influenced by/while listening to "The Good and The Bad Guy" by My Brightest Diamond and voila! Struggled with first paragraph for about two hours, then wrote the rest in 15 minutes. HOORAY FOR ALCOHOL.

Oh yeah, and it's totally fucked up. AGAIN, ALCOHOL. HOORAY.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

Any mention of Metallica, any associated entites, or any copywrited material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copywrited material.


( They’re both so fucking drunk he could scream. )

....

I will not slash James and Flea, I will not slash James and Flea, I will not slash James and Flea, I will not slash James and Flea, I will not slash James and Flea....

Lol, for some reason this REALLY cracked me up. Wiki vandalism ftw!

Okay,so explanation time. Even if I would love to leave my customer spitting somewhat ambiguous.

I didn't mean to spit on him. I opened my mouth to randomly blather while he tried to place his order and gtf away from the crazy lady, and this giant slab of mouth goo went flying and narrowly missed his face. Got some on his jacket. He looked at me like OMG, and I stared at him like OMG, and then I screamed "I SPIT ON YOU" like I was Monica Gellar-Bing and then started to shriek with laughter like a mad woman, not even saying sorry because it was so fucking funny and he quickly placed his order, paid and drove off while I was still giggling. It was epic.


Clearly, I'm in need of some sanity.

So, starting with work woes. Saturday, I had open. And night before, Marc came home. With friends. Went out to party while I tried to sleep. Fell asleep around midnight. Marc comes home from party at 2 30 and I snap awake becuase, hello, I wake up at fucking any little sound. Then Marcs friend comes home just as I'm falling back asleep. And violently throws up for a good 10 minutes. I decide I'm not going to sleep at all after that. And I don't. Kinda puts you off sleeping and living after that sort of noise. So...tired. Then Deanne and Marc are home so I get no sleep all weekend, and then I was 8 am start on MOnday and thats okay, but still early, and then Tues is open again and omg no sleep again. And as it turns out, I get pulled into doing 5 30 - 9 then 11 - 4. Somehow. So OMG SO TIRED YESTERDAY, I NEARLY DIED. WHICH IS PROLLY WHY CUSTOMER SPITTING WAS SO FUNNY.

Ah fuck it, who am I kidding? It would have been funny anyway. And then today, I has 8 am again. And thats till 1. Then Bombers all "hey, sup, what are you doing after work?" and I'm like "Oh noes" and he's like "SUCKER, I KNEW YOU WERENT DOING ANYTHING BECAYSE YOU'RE A SAD LITTLE WHORE" and I had to work till 3 30 because they had a meeting and then Bomber was like "it's okay, it'll be quiet...whore" and then a class of 50 kids came in and we nearly died and I glared at him, like "quiet my ass, how dare you?" and he was all "hey, at least you didn't get pulled out of a meeting to serve these little shits" and I'm like "no, but I got pulled out of living at home instead of working" and he would have laughed if this actually happened and said "QUIT LYING, YOU DON'T HAVE A LIFE, WHORE" and slapped me, and I wouldn't be able to argue because it's true. Sheeeeeeeeeet.

Ruh roh. I dind't mention Metallica at all in this post. Crap. Um. Wall sex. Pool sex. James and Lars, wall sex and pool sex. Hugging. Dorky hugging. Angst. Manlove. Manangst. MOTHERFUCKING BATTERY!