(no subject)

( Русский язык )

And that's two grammar points in one day! Score.

And now would be where I complain about PT making me more sore instead of less, except I don't mind this kind of sore. This kind of sore is where my body goes oh, Christ, why did you abuse me like this? and I go shut up, it's good for you.

Exhausted last night. Went to bed somewhat early, as you may or may not have noticed. And I woke up feeling not much different, which was vastly annoying. Still tired. Now have a headache, which does not bode well for the day. Leotard is still not here, which may mean a somewhat frantic poking of the web or trip to various malls to see if I can find something suitable. Which is deeply annoying. On the other hand, makeup may arrive today if I'm reading this right. I have makeup coming, leotards coming, and now I've forgotten what the fuck else I ordered (which is mildly annoying) but something is coming via FedEx. So I'll have that at least. ... Need to update my list of shit which I have.

Tonight, writing. Oh dear god the writing I have to do. And frying some rice, and trying on a wig. There may be pictures. This weekend I need to put on my bathing suit and/or my spaghetti string top and go wander around outside so my Cheetara does not have embarrassing farmer's tan, because I do. Writing and that's probably about it because I have gotten so behind on writing it isn't even funny. And I need to contact my SciFi BigBang artist. Everything is fucking well slipping out of my head. I have no idea what to do about the fact that said artist isn't familiar with the actual scifi portion of my fic (which I was afraid of, it's not a common American fandom at least) other than link him/her/it to the movie on the web. Ah well. Better the movie, i suppose, than the books.

And, um. Oh, heh, yeah. Something I meant to rant about yesterday, apparently a sheriff in Dallas said that they need to work on reducing the incidence of rape by warning women to take a friend or two along if they plan on drinking to make sure they don't drink too much in front of a man. Because, you know, blaming the victim for getting drunk and saying that's why the victim got raped is, um. ... Yeah, I got nothing. Not to mention the implication that women are stupid and men can't control themselves. Not to mention the implication that rape only exists if it's male on female. I'm sure male rape victims and women who have been raped by women all over the country thank you for that, Sheriff Dumbass. Twit.

And now I really do have to hustle my butt on out of here. And take some aspirin before my head explodes. And and and. Ugh. Brain no worky today.

(no subject)

( 日本語 )

Well, that's done. Dear lord, I think my splitting headache has finally gone away with the application of about a litre of water and 550 mg of naproxen sodium. Take that, head.

Slowly running down the long list of things to do today. Among them: contact SciFi Big Bang artist, write up the rest of the prompts at least for the next several months, German, drop spindle practice. Try not to die. I actually had one or two other writing tasks but I've now completely forgotten them in the time it took for me to go to the kitchen, get some water, and come back. I suspect at least one of those is start kicking my ass on ... Christ, I can't even remember. Desert novel thing. I have lost all track of time and the only reason I am not running into myself all over the places is because the physics of this world do not permit such activity. Or else I would be. A lot. This isn't Red Queen Running, this is Red Queen Tripping Over Her Own Stupid Feet And Falling Flat On Her Ass.

On the plus side, my family seems to be determined to keep throwing money at me for my medical bills? I'm not worried about paying my medical bills, per se, it is irritating to have them, but I'm not worried about it. It's also nice to have family throwing money at me, I guess. Anyway, it's equally nice to know I'm probably not going to have much of them for a little while yet. I've got another PT on Wednesday after UPS has at least theoretically gone, and that'll be good. But apparently after the initial evaluation the price drops considerably. I like this.

Ugh. I kind of want to email to check on my leotard order. I might, later today. It seems like this store might be the equivalent of our store, so I'm not too worried, but the damn thing was hard enough to find the first time. Ah well. Still can't remember what the hell else I meant to do. Maybe that's enough for one day. Maybe I should walk up to the lingerie store before the end of the day and buy stockings. Ye-es. I can do that, at least.

(no subject)

( Deutsch )

First discovery of the evening: I don't know how to put on a wig. More correctly, I don't know how to put up my hair to put on a wig. Fortunately, this is what the internet is for. Second discovery of the evening: Fried rice tastes decent on the 1-2-3 (1 tbsp mirin, 2 tbsp sesame oil, 3 tbsp soy sauce). Third discovery of the evening: I suck at taking pictures of my own face. I suppose this is what professional photographers are for! Or tripods and timers.

Fourth discovery of the evening: Why yes, I do still have fits of negative body image. Ugh. That was a much less welcome discovery.

Right. Um... something. I had a thought but it went away. I'm still not sure which wig to use or if I shoul wait and get better about putting on the damn wig, or look in the shop across the street. Decisions. And Mark Sheppard perhaps being evil again. My complete lack of surprise, let me show you it. I swear, if he turns out to be a good guy it will be the first time and I really will be surprised.

Nngh. Poor self image still nagging. On the plus side, I have my lunch packed, my German done, pretty much the only thing I have to do in the next two and some odd hours is write. And possibly put some books away and do a couple dishes, which will take all of ten minutes. So... I had probably better get started on that, hadn't I? Yes. And stop dwelling on whatever it was that I think I saw in the mirror, because half of it was probably my own imagination and god knows what else the rest of it was. It's 8pm, quite possibly some of it was exhaustion. And some of it, yes, was me needing to get in better shape still. Ongoing battle. But, christ. I need bigger boots to stop on this thing.

[Title] Response to Stimuli

Title: Response to Stimuli
Fandom: Navy NCIS
Characters: Abby/Gibbs
Word Count: 600
Rating: Surprisingly PG
Summary: Abby teases Gibbs until the inevitable conclusion.
A/N: This seemed like a kinkier idea at the time! Written for kink_bingo "Rubbing/Grinding"



Abby should know better than to tease Gibbs by now. Every time she did she wound up thinking that exact same thought in almost those exact same words, and somehow a week, two weeks later, she was teasing her man again.

This time, it was the damn lollipop. "Abs. Take that out and talk to me." About evidence, of course. They were working a murder investigation and it was important, she knew it was important, and she did take out the lollipop and give it to him straight, but no one had ever said she couldn't have a little fun with her work, right? Gibbs listened, nodded. She could see him planning behind those pale blue gunslinger eyes of his, his mind quick at work. One of many, many things she loved about him.

"Good work, Abs."

But his hand was a little tighter than usual around her waist, and he held her just a little bit closer. She could feel the heat from his body through her lab coat.

It was a murder case. Which meant they were all working around the clock, almost, until it was solved. Which meant that she went home to her apartment and her cold sheets and he stayed up fussing or thinking or talking to Fornell. She saw him mostly when he came down to her lab, and he still gave her little more than a smile and a rub of the shoulder or back. And he still stood close enough that she could smell his aftershave and shampoo.

He knew what that did to her. Of course he did, the wily old bastard.

Three days later when the case broke and she could go over to his house again for celebratory Chinese and, well, shenanigans, she didn't find him there. Not on the main floor, and not in the basement working on his boat. Which didn't mean that he wasn't in the house, of course. Abby had the feeling he was there, and that usually meant that he was. "You're behind me, aren't you," she muttered, spinning around to face...

... nothing. Damn.

"'course I am," he whispered in her ear. She would have jumped and spun around, too, except his arm around her waist kept her from moving. And his body was pressed right up against hers.

And he was really warm.

"You snuck up on me," she accused, but it was hard to do that without grinning. He could sneak up on anyone, and while she could always tell when he was around it was sometimes hard to know just when he was right behind her. Not that it was hard to tell he was right behind her now. His body was practically hot, pressed up against hers.

"I told you to watch your back." Except that had been work, and this was playful. Very playful.

And she should really, really remember not to tease Gibbs by now, but she did have to just wriggle, just a little, rubbing up against him and making him hiss and her gasp as he slid his hands down her arms again and pulled them behind her back, one hand firm around both her wrists.

"That isn't going to do much, you know," she taunted him. She should really stop teasing him. "I can still do this." And she wriggled her hips again. One more time. Daring him.

"Yeah? And I can still do this." He chuckled, especially when she squeaked as he hoisted her up over his shoulder and carried her off to bed.

Yeah, she should really stop teasing him like that.