Hokay so, I'm taking a break at work & am bored, but can't really work on anything longer than "short" because I won't be on break for too much longer. SO: first 5-10 (I seriously doubt it'll go over five, but juuust in case) people to comment with a request get a drabble written. (Like 100-300 words, most likely.) There is one rule, which is no
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IDEK. D:
(uhhh, I could maybe guess, but what does "timestamp" refer to?)
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"Jesus, Jim, some of us are trying to eat," gripes Bones.
Jim just mashes the piece of toast the rest of the way into his mouth, humming with bliss. "Fuck you," he mumbles happily through crumbs. "Do you know how long it's been since I had Nutella and toast?" He finishes the last bite off, closing his eyes and letting the delicious dark hazelly-chocolate taste sink into his tongue. "Too fucking long, Bones. Too. Fucking. Long ( ... )
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THIS IS EVERYTHING I COULD I HAVE EVER DREAMED OF WANTING AND MORE, BUT BETTER!!!!!!!!
PLUS GROUCHY!BONES IS AMAZING.
...It suddenly occurs to me that a conversation between Oscar the Grouch and Bones could be hilariously awesome. new broTP now, IDEK.
OH HELL YES JIM, GET YOUR COSTCO SIZED NUTELLA AND MAKE OUT WITH SPOCK IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. ALL THE TIME. AND BONES CAN BE ALL FML! ALL DAY, IT WILL BE AMAZING ♥ ♥ ♥
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"You need to sleep."
"Nah. Sleeping is for un-awesome people," Jim tosses back over a yawn, scrolling through his PADD and trying to find a specific tactics article he read last semester. He knows he loaded it--now he just needs to find the fucker, hiding in amongst his million other tabs ( ... )
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Jim turns clumsily to him, squinting up. "Yeah? Well it is, okay? It--" and normally he'd never say something this stupid out loud, but god, his mouth's running away without him, and the words come tumbling out without his consent-- "if I fail this, it's like failing you, okay ( ... )
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"if I fail this, it's like failing you, okay?"
*Dies a little inside* Oh, Jim! You can be such a woobie.
Thank you so much for writing it :)
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...please?
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Here's the thing: Jim can't stand not knowing things.
Seriously, it's always been that way. It's why he ate glue in kindergarten (his mom's third of many calls to poison control), why he kissed Susan Jackson in fourth grade (no, her lipgloss didn't taste like strawberries), and why he picked up that first Dizzy Gillespie tape in that tiny secondhand bookstore when he was eleven (it felt solid and right). He's just a curious person. Can't let sleeping dogs lie.
So at first he thinks it's just that--that Spock's a mystery. There's his enormous talent, for one; Jim's left a little in awe every time the guy puts bow to strings, because man, the sounds he pulls smoothly from his violin? Incredible. Indescribable. And while Jim's wondering how he got so good, he starts noticing the way that Spock concentrates on whatever he's doing, with all of himself focused so intensely. Like doing his best at whatever-it-is is the most ( ... )
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I especially loved this line:
Most of the time, his face is blank with that deep concentration, so when he does give you an expression it's like--like a prism, one little line of white light refracting into something absolutely beautiful. ♥♥♥
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