fingers crossed

[mwestbelle]

Word on the street is Iago will be home this evening so, *fingers crossed* I need my baby. It would be awesome if they fixed him, but I don't care if they didn't--he's still totally useable, and I'm really against sending him into HP because (a) OMG UNKNOWN AMOUNT OF TIME WITHOUT MY LAPTOP I'D DIE and (b) Geek Squad told us they were pretty sure it was a software issue, and my warranty only covers hardware. Soooo...it would be cheaper and easier for me to just buy a monitor for desk-use when I get back to school. I just. I want him back now, and I really hope I don't have to try to argue with my Dad about sending it in or not.

Other news: I wrote some Gerard/Frank for the Dirty Talk and some Gabe/Pete/Mikey for the Frottage meme...I am exceptionally proud of myself for actually getting something *done* for pornomemes (I LOVE THEM SO) as well as writing some of a special fic for my bb and doing some collab with him. I'm learning to love the Google Docs, and it might become a new deal for me? IDK, I still love my good old' word processors, but I think I'll at least start keeping copies of my stuff on my Google, in case, IDK, I am without computer and still want to get shit done. :)

Still looking for a job...I sent my resume to another temp agency, so hopefully I'll hear more from them? Haven't heard one way or the other about my interview :(

Comments

[iamsupernova.livejournal.com]

THAT IS THE SOUND OF ME TELEPORTING TO THE GABE/PETE/MIKEY

NOM

[mwestbelle.livejournal.com]

I ENVY YOUR AWESOME SOUND EFFECTS

[lyo.livejournal.com]

Holy fucking hell. Gabe/Pete/Mikey. *runs over to read*

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

NOM NOM NOM YOUUUUUU~ I hope Iago is back with the parentalssssss

[eyes--so-deep.livejournal.com]

Good luck with your job!!!

Also, I hope your lappy returns safe and sound...I know it would be hard without mine.

have some noms

[thelemic.livejournal.com]

The mood changes razor-fast, and before he knows it he's pressed against the door, arms pinned to it. He doesn't know how it went from casual conversation to her voice lowering, expression darkening and a "Don't move."

She's pressing him against the door, too, hard enough that the contours of it are starting to dig into his back, the places where the wood isn't smooth. He can hear the laughter of her friends on the other side but on this side it's nothing but tension, thick enough to be cut with a knife. His breathing is getting more ragged, too, and it only makes her lean closer, until he looks up and her lips are right there.

One side of her mouth quirks up and she leans forward, pressing her lips to his. And then it's a fight with himself not to make a sound even as he kisses back, wanting to move closer but he's pinned. Her nails are digging into his wrists, just the right side of too-hard.

She pulls back with a wet sound, just far enough to speak against his lips. "No noises." And then she drops down, to her knees and he bites his lip hard. She lifts up his shirt just a little, presses a kiss to his navel and then pulls it up further, until it'll stay up. But this time she's not kissing his tummy, the way it curves just beyond the waistband of his pants. She looks up once and then leans down, bites at it gently and then a little harder, sinking her teeth in.

He gasps, head back against the door, praying no one wants to talk to either of them. She looks up with a warning look of 'don't do it again or I'm stopping' and he nods dumbly, fingers digging into his palms. She bites down again, then, hard, right at the very edge of the skin, until it feels like the skin is broken. He looks down and god, there's just a little tint of bloodred on her lips and her teeth.

"This is good?" she asks, leaning down again, and all he can do is nod.