wook77 | Twitter, Work, Azkatraz and a Rant (TWAR)

I had a rant about authors behaving badly but, meh, it's nothing that hasn't been said better by others. I'll sum and say, if you cannot step back from a bad review and/or concrit to the point that you are flaming the person(s) (ie, posting their phone numbers and encouraging people to call them and tell them what a douche they are (and/or the fandom equivalent), wishing death and destruction upon their heads, namecalling, etc) then you might be the one in need of wood for a cross upon which to martyr yourself.

I started using my Twitter tonight. I finally got an app that makes sense for me. You can follow me, just drop me a line as to who you are if you want me to add back. Please? I've gotten quite a few troll/sock/random empty journal friendings even before I started using it so if your twitter name isn't the same as your LJ name, can you let me know here?

Plus, I've protected the entries for the next week or so. Accidentally followed my employer and then unfollowed, blocked and flocked. I'm such an idiot. I meant to hit another button and, instead, BAM - following and bringing my fandom info into my work.

ETA: LOL I forgot to mention that I'm wook77 on Twitter. I'm an idiot /eta

Azkatraz next week! BWEE! Anyone interested in going to Six Flags San Francisco Bay? Supposedly it is accessible via public transportation and I'd really really like to go to it. Anyone? If you buy your tix online, it's $29.99 a ticket.

My ever-so-douche-y boss at Fry's scheduled me to work 6-midnight on Wednesday before my flight on Thursday which is at 5am. Thanks for nothing, you jerkface. There's a reason I requested off for the 15th.

My Kirk Sammich fic is done and at the betas.

I really like this whole not stressing over deadlines and writing what I want thing. It's rather fun.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's been eating him up inside for too damned long now, distracting him when he should be focusing on his studies. He manages to brush it away when he's in surgery, but just barely; the thought buzzes around his consciousness like a mosquito.

He wants Jim.

He can't help himself. He wants his best friend, and he's maybe sick for wanting him, but he's blown a million chances in his life. His two constants are Jim and Starfleet. Even Joanna is growing, changing into someone unrecognizable; the last time he talked to her he swears he could hear her rolling her eyes like her mother used to do, like she was going to say Oh, Len at any moment and heave a sigh like he was the most ridiculous man in the world who tested her patience with every fiber of his being, every breath he breathed, every step he walked.

So maybe it makes sense that he wants Jim, after all. Starfleet he's got, surgery he's got; he's been a doctor for years already, after all, and Jim's the one uncertain want-need in his life right now.

Fuck.

He can eliminate Jocelyn from his thoughts almost completely, but Jim is always there, nagging, not like Jocelyn nags, but a Jim-nag which is different and annoying and arousing, and fucking naked (not fucking naked, but, fuck, he's naked, and it's not like Bones hasn't seen it a million times before and knows exactly what to picture by now without even having to try) half the time, lately, and damn but that's distracting.

It all comes to a head over a bottle of bourbon (of course, how could Bones have taken the chance any other way, coward that he is?) and a game of rummy (stupid juvenile game, but Jim likes it, so it's okay).

Jim grins up at him. "Winner gets a blowjob from the loser," he says, and Bones just stares. "Jesus, I was kidding," Jim says, but the smile's half-gone from his face and Bones shakes himself. Not now. Not now.

"Yeah, sure," he laughs, but he plays mean, and he wins, and he raises an eyebrow at Jim, silently challenging him.

Jim stands, wiping his palms on his pants, and, fuck, he's nervous, Bones realizes, and he can't react to Jim kneeling in front of him until Jim's already got his pants open, his fingers searching.

"Fuck—Jim—" Bones stammers, jerking away. "I don't—you don't have to."

"Maybe I want to," says Jim, and he grins wickedly, and that's about all Bones can handle. He closes his eyes and puts his hand over Jim's, which is staying dangerously close to the evidence of Bones's arousal—and, shit, he is aroused, isn't he?

"You know I always win rummy," Jim continues, and Bones tries hard to concentrate on what Jim's saying through the fog of alcohol surrounding them both. Yeah, Jim does always win. Mostly always. Or always-mostly, fuck, whatever, and it doesn't matter because Jim's hand is moving again and this can't be happening.

"I was the one who was supposed to take the chance," Bones slurs, and he opens his eyes to find Jim staring up at him.

"What?"

From somewhere beyond alcohol and arousal, he finds conviction. "I was—let's not. Jim. Please."

"Shit," says Jim, and he slumps in a heap at Bones's feet. "Shit," he says again, and it's so defeatist Bones can't take it.

"Come on," he says, standing, and he hauls Jim to his feet, and before thinking or anything stupid like that can get in the way, he grabs a fistful of Jim's ratty old t-shirt and jerks him forward and kisses him hard, and Jim says ah and kisses back, and Bones can feel himself falling, falling, and this wasn't how it was supposed to happen but okay, okay, okay.

It's too much.

That thought breaks through, and Bones staggers backwards.

"It's all wrong," he says aloud, and he looks at his bed and Jim grabs him and kisses him again, and they somehow make it on to the bed and get naked and shit shit shit this is all wrong. Love was supposed to come first.

And, shit, not love, he's more fucked up than the thought. Not love. Just Bones and Jim.

They're both too fucked up, though, and sex and love and naked and Jim and want all swirl dangerously downwards until Bones loses consciousness and the last thing he registers before sleep is Jim, hard, and Jim, tangled, and Jim, snoring, and. Jim. And in the morning, Jim. And truth. And okay.

HO

MAH

GAWD

ASDFKLASJDFLAKSDUGFADIUVZXCKLVJZIBUA"EPGAFBJZDFLKBJZLKFBJ

Dude.

dude.

I'm so beyond dead. I was hoping for it last night cause you had said maybe and I fell asleep with my computer on my chest and then I saw this and as;dlfkjas;ldfj;asldjkf;

seriously so good. GOD. I dont even have coherent thoughts on parts I like or anything cause it's all just too good.

Yayyyyy! So glad you liked. ♥♥♥

Oh, wow. I cannot appropriately express my HUGE love for this awesome, awesome ficlet that is hot and sweet and painful and...HUGE LOVE!

Thank you!

*combusts a little* HOT!

This fandom will be my death (too many mental fireworks :P)

Hee, thank you!

Here via

wook_77's rec.
This is absolutely gorgeous. You've got them both just right. I especially loved this: "Come on," he says, standing, and he hauls Jim to his feet, and before thinking or anything stupid like that can get in the way, he grabs a fistful of Jim's ratty old t-shirt and jerks him forward and kisses him hard, and Jim says ah and kisses back, and Bones can feel himself falling, falling, and this wasn't how it was supposed to happen but okay, okay, okay.
And Bones? "Love was supposed to come first." I think it already has.

Aww, thank you!

Ooh. The thing about Joanna is really heartbreaking. And the rest of it is wonderfully angsty. Just go with it, Bones. :-)

Thank you! ♥

And yes, he thought, and Jim said yes and he kissed his bright boy and no it was supposed to be different but wait yes Jim said yes and yes Bones said yes Bones will Yes.

Because a little Joycean stream of consciousness is the BEST way to end pr0n.

Bravo.

Twitter, Work, Azkatraz and a Rant (TWAR)

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