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minxyRL writing update: made the 500 word goal for today. Yippee! Most overtyped word for today: prokaryotic.
Fannishly:
Aw, my GIRL! YES!
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rydra_wong beat out many, MANY slash entries to win the coveted title of 'I Killed Fandom' with her story Leonine! And I most heartily agree that this story is contributing to general Global Warming. 'Grats, Beauty. Most notably for winning with a less recognized (though no less deserving) pairing. Cameron/Teal'c, and seriously HAWT.
*dances for Rydra*
Other (really deserving) winners are here, the p0rn battle entries themselves (it's hard to go wrong, really) are here.
I *is shy and proud all at the same time* have been nominated for my first fandom award for the Sam/Daniel fic One Half of the Equation (which I always intended to be p0rnier, but ended up merely PG rated, alas, as their angst issues took precedence) in the Isis Awards which are for Stargate's less common het pairings. The nominations have been posted on the site for reading, though voting doesn't begin until the 15th. I'm fairly tickled that I was nominated, so THANK YOU, lovely nominating people!
[tangent: y'all know, and by that I mean 'heads up new people,' that I have a list of links on the right hand side of my LJ, right? My own fic, my rec lists, links to other pages of note like Pepe's Place and the Isis Awards... just FYI]
And I thought it was time to post the Jack/Daniel p0rn I entered Signe's battle with. It's short comment p0rn, but I am thinking of letting them continue. I'll let you know.
Title: Lip Service
Rating: it's P0RN, people.
Word count: 553
Pairing & Fandom: Jack/Daniel, SG-1
Jack never kissed him.
There were fingers digging in his hip, hands palming his ass, gentle nails down his back and graffiti drawn with fingertips all over his face and thighs and back.
Jack had touched him, deep and shallow and hard and soft, everywhere; even deep into the center where only three lovers had ever gone, with a skill and a surging and a decisiveness that had Daniel momentarily gasping, but never speechless.
Jack never touched him with his mouth. Daniel knew what Jack’s breath felt like on his shoulders, but not his teeth. Knew how intuitive Jack could be with his hands over nipples and skin, but had never felt spit there. Daniel had felt fingers drag along the vein from the base of his cock to the explosion of nerves below the head; felt Jack’s palm and long fingers allow him to push through, dry or lubed. He had felt Jack’s body around him, wrapping him up and grounding him and giving him something to sink into, to make rigid with sudden pleasure, to surprise with tenderness, to make come; but never in his mouth. Daniel had never felt Jack’s tongue on him, the heat of his mouth the way he’d felt the heat of his words or his hands or his cock or his ass.
It left Daniel with a tension that never disappeared, even when the world disappeared into wet strings of come over Jack’s fingers, running down his pant’s leg, leaving drops on the carpet. Even then. Not sated.
“Fuck you, Jack.” He said, reviving, pushing against Jack’s slumped form with his chest, off the front door and to the wall, sloppily reversing who had pinned whom. Daniel’d just missed planting Jack’s head in the corner of a picture frame, but the man didn’t seem to mind. His eyes, while still half lidded, had a spark in them already, ready.
“That can be arranged, Daniel.” In a voice that was an insistent reminder of sex; sex just happened, sex promised, sex never crossing that line.
Daniel’s knees held Jack’s legs apart. Forearms pressed shoulder and elbow into the wall. Daniel’s hands were open, fingers splayed against the texturizing under the paint, between Jack’s temple and the picture frame.
Mouth mere inches from Jack’s. Noses almost touching at the tips. Daniel jutted his chin and tracked his mouth, hot breath and almost touching, over Jack’s chin, across his cheek, back to his mouth, his mouth, in an almost-kiss. Head tilted, lips less than an inch apart, a few hairs, they could have held a bullet between them. He shaped the words carefully, since he spoke so low, so close, almost all breath, “Fuck you, Jack.”
Jack’s eyes darkened, heavy lidded. Daniel could feel his breath as Jack opened his mouth, felt the shift as he raised his unpinned hand between them. The smell was strong, of sex and lust and salt and gunpowder. Jack pushed the tip of his index finger through dry lips, then curled his tongue around it and licked it clean. He drew a second fingertip across his lower lip, and then across Daniel’s; Daniel started when he felt the cool tingle of liquid drying and darted his tongue out to taste.
Jack’s eyes were on his mouth as he leaned in and whispered, “That can be arranged, Daniel.”
.
Fannishly:
Aw, my GIRL! YES!
rydra_wong beat out many, MANY slash entries to win the coveted title of 'I Killed Fandom' with her story Leonine! And I most heartily agree that this story is contributing to general Global Warming. 'Grats, Beauty. Most notably for winning with a less recognized (though no less deserving) pairing. Cameron/Teal'c, and seriously HAWT.*dances for Rydra*
Other (really deserving) winners are here, the p0rn battle entries themselves (it's hard to go wrong, really) are here.
I *is shy and proud all at the same time* have been nominated for my first fandom award for the Sam/Daniel fic One Half of the Equation (which I always intended to be p0rnier, but ended up merely PG rated, alas, as their angst issues took precedence) in the Isis Awards which are for Stargate's less common het pairings. The nominations have been posted on the site for reading, though voting doesn't begin until the 15th. I'm fairly tickled that I was nominated, so THANK YOU, lovely nominating people!
[tangent: y'all know, and by that I mean 'heads up new people,' that I have a list of links on the right hand side of my LJ, right? My own fic, my rec lists, links to other pages of note like Pepe's Place and the Isis Awards... just FYI]
And I thought it was time to post the Jack/Daniel p0rn I entered Signe's battle with. It's short comment p0rn, but I am thinking of letting them continue. I'll let you know.
Title: Lip Service
Rating: it's P0RN, people.
Word count: 553
Pairing & Fandom: Jack/Daniel, SG-1
Jack never kissed him.
There were fingers digging in his hip, hands palming his ass, gentle nails down his back and graffiti drawn with fingertips all over his face and thighs and back.
Jack had touched him, deep and shallow and hard and soft, everywhere; even deep into the center where only three lovers had ever gone, with a skill and a surging and a decisiveness that had Daniel momentarily gasping, but never speechless.
Jack never touched him with his mouth. Daniel knew what Jack’s breath felt like on his shoulders, but not his teeth. Knew how intuitive Jack could be with his hands over nipples and skin, but had never felt spit there. Daniel had felt fingers drag along the vein from the base of his cock to the explosion of nerves below the head; felt Jack’s palm and long fingers allow him to push through, dry or lubed. He had felt Jack’s body around him, wrapping him up and grounding him and giving him something to sink into, to make rigid with sudden pleasure, to surprise with tenderness, to make come; but never in his mouth. Daniel had never felt Jack’s tongue on him, the heat of his mouth the way he’d felt the heat of his words or his hands or his cock or his ass.
It left Daniel with a tension that never disappeared, even when the world disappeared into wet strings of come over Jack’s fingers, running down his pant’s leg, leaving drops on the carpet. Even then. Not sated.
“Fuck you, Jack.” He said, reviving, pushing against Jack’s slumped form with his chest, off the front door and to the wall, sloppily reversing who had pinned whom. Daniel’d just missed planting Jack’s head in the corner of a picture frame, but the man didn’t seem to mind. His eyes, while still half lidded, had a spark in them already, ready.
“That can be arranged, Daniel.” In a voice that was an insistent reminder of sex; sex just happened, sex promised, sex never crossing that line.
Daniel’s knees held Jack’s legs apart. Forearms pressed shoulder and elbow into the wall. Daniel’s hands were open, fingers splayed against the texturizing under the paint, between Jack’s temple and the picture frame.
Mouth mere inches from Jack’s. Noses almost touching at the tips. Daniel jutted his chin and tracked his mouth, hot breath and almost touching, over Jack’s chin, across his cheek, back to his mouth, his mouth, in an almost-kiss. Head tilted, lips less than an inch apart, a few hairs, they could have held a bullet between them. He shaped the words carefully, since he spoke so low, so close, almost all breath, “Fuck you, Jack.”
Jack’s eyes darkened, heavy lidded. Daniel could feel his breath as Jack opened his mouth, felt the shift as he raised his unpinned hand between them. The smell was strong, of sex and lust and salt and gunpowder. Jack pushed the tip of his index finger through dry lips, then curled his tongue around it and licked it clean. He drew a second fingertip across his lower lip, and then across Daniel’s; Daniel started when he felt the cool tingle of liquid drying and darted his tongue out to taste.
Jack’s eyes were on his mouth as he leaned in and whispered, “That can be arranged, Daniel.”
.
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-01 06:29 am (UTC)Oh, I would totally do the same thing. *g* Because someone else's picture is *shiny* and anything I draw is... well, mine, and all I can see are the flaws.
Am such a lazy BUM. I waste so much time sometimes. *reapplies nose to grindstone*
*gently applies Grindstone Ointment to nose* Safety first, you know.
Tonight we prepped another PCR, and I got to explain how to calculate the Master Mix again to almost everyone. We were all very loopy again, telling dirty jokes in between calling out lot numbers and stock concentrations of reagents. I got to make the step-down concentration of 2 of the primers for the class (big whoop, 50uM stepped down to 10uM to be used in a final working concentration of .25uM... easy math), and it was fun. Not as fun as titrating a solution to pH, but fun. *g*
Then I got to program the thermocycler, and was generally obnoxiously happy all night. I bounced, I sang, I couldn't have had the grin wiped off my face with a 2x4.
The Annoying Comp Sci Teacher was giving out post-it notes stuck to the test forms of the few of us who got perfect scores on the exam (speaking for myself it was through sheer dumb luck and a touch of divine intervention). Since we don't keep the test forms, she gave us the post-its to take home and "put on the refrigerator."
When I didn't keep mine she questioned me, and I said "No, second grade was a long time ago." I have a mixed bag of feelings about this teacher. She's clearly trying hard, but just because some of the class is having trouble with the material doesn't give her the right to speak to us like idiot gradeschoolers. I'm only there because I *have* to have the class for graduation.
Jesus, today we learned the difference between serif and sans-serif fonts.
And even THAT didn't touch the Happy. *g*