Post-ep for “Agent Afloat,” and Hoyden suggested I title this something to do with sloppy seconds, just for truth in advertising, but I just don’t think I could do that to myself. I mean you guys. Really. Anyway, SUPER NC-17.
All right, this might be avoidance.
Quick post-SWAK missing scene for NCIS, technically gen, but I mean, come on:
I sort of really want to write a Regency NCIS AU, where young Anthony is trapped caring for his younger siblings (only Timothy and Ziva–aka, Zinnia–now that Caitlin died of fever the year before), and must marry a wealthy woman in order to get Timothy (the rightful heir to their duchy since naturally, Tony is illegitimate) to Eton and Zinna a debut and he works for horrible, crotchety old widower Gibbs, who loathes all but his darling niece Abby and his dearest friend, oddball doctor friend. Anthony is fabulous at seducing women but nobody wants to keep him, and although he’s made his way through half of the ladies of the ton, or rather, they have made their way through him, nobody wants to make an honest man of him–except possibly Gibbs, who is a Marquis of some wealth and Oh my God this story gets worse the more I try to justify it. Of course, it could be worse. I could be writing the SGA version of this where John is being blackmailed into marrying Kolya and Rodney had to stop his wedding, because despite having fallen madly in love with Lady Samantha Carter at house party, he realizes in the end it is John, her enchanting brother and not her to whom he has given his heart ARRRRRGH SOMEBODY STOP ME. GOD DAMN THESE STUPID JULIA QUINN NOVELS.
I watched a lot of TV this week, folks, but given that I had not one, but two lengthy job interviews, one of which was so poorly managed that they wrecked my entire day’s planned schedule and I ended up missing all of work I do not have the spirit to talk about them at length — so, superfast run-through of this weeks hits and misses utter the jump. (more…)
House? You win. Seriously. I just — win. Lots of win. Will be elaborated on at a later date, also known as “probably tomorrow.” You are my emotionally and somewhat physically abusive rich husband who sleeps around a lot, but God damn do you hit me good.
Eureka? Not as impressed, even though I could hear psychic screams re: Michael Shanks’ guest appearance all the way from New York. You can’t let House beat you. House beats everybody, especially its wife (read: me), so I have to like you more. You’re the strapping, unaware and sexually alluring (yet innocent) pool boy who scoops my leaves, and who always wishes I’d leave my husband and stop drinking so much. You think I’m pretty, and like that I read books, etc. etc.
Bones? ILU!!!! You are my one true friend in this deathtrap, and we do pilates and talk about wanting to bang my pool boy together. Oh, and David Boreanez is so adorable in you, and even more adorable in conjunction with Bones — so adorable that I spent most of the episode making this noise: SQUEEEEEEAK. Also, I loved the moment where Bones finally confronts Booth about how he could have kept Zac from going and — okay okay, I’ll write it up tomorrow. Fine.
Last but not least:
NCIS? I really hate Jenny Sheppard. I also feel really bad for Jean since, and I am not even joking here, for most of the latter half of season four the only bearable plotlines on the show, for me, were the ones about Tony and Jean’s relationship. I wanted them to have unnaturally attractive children together — and okay, come on. I loved the twist about DiNardo. You know you didn’t see it coming, either. In conclusion: will write big OMG treatise soon.
(Oh, and today at work? I started to write something called “How Jane Sheppard Got Her Groove Back.” I think it’s officially time to hate myself.)
• Eureka starts again soon. Whatchya gonna do about that, eh? Huh, huh? [This is a challenge, for those that are too drunk to figure it out. ;)]
Jack was man enough to admit that he wasn’t man enough to deal with John Sheppard on the warpath — hearsay though it was, the last time the guy had lost his temper an alien planet (God, Jack thought, I hate this town) had lost a few continents. John Sheppard, Jack knew, was not a guy to be fucked with.
It turned out that was true on two levels.
“McKay, you have to understand,” he said reasonably, “I can’t let you kill him.”
McKay clearly disagree.
“I clearly disagree,” he snarled back, pointing a very large and tantalizingly shiny weapon at Herman Rothschild — poet, artiste, experimental weapons designer for the U.S. military and maneater.
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Do you really think this is a fair punishment for you know, accidentally hitting on John?”
“Oh, sure,” Rodney said, furious, “because someone can ‘accidentally’ manufacture a gay bomb and set it off while locked in a room with someone else’s significant other.”
Frowning, Jack turned to Herman. “Did you do that?”
Flushing, Herman said, “There was only a 56 percent chance it would work.”
“And a 100 percent chance I was going to kick your ass for it!” Rodney shouted. “He’s still feeling up nurses in the medical ward — and they’re probably enjoying it!”
Jack sighed. “I hate this town.”
• Gibbs and DiNozzo undercover in a gay bar. (Also, Dear Whoever Wanted This: You and I are clearly soulmates.)
Gibbs had drawn the line at leather pants.
“I still think they would have been a good idea,” Tony whispered, lips close to Gibbs’ ear, and Gibbs looked over Tony’s shoulder into the grinding crowd and figured every other pervert in the room thought it would have been a good idea, too.
“DiNozzo,” Gibbs snapped, “no boyfriend of mine would be allowed out in public dressed like a streetwalker — capishe?”
Tony pouted. “Killjoy,” he said, and whirled around to the bar, glitter in his eyelashes. “I’ll have a blowjob, please,” he told the bartender, and Gibbs muttered, “Oh, for crying out loud — !”
“On BJ, coming up,” the bartender said, all business, and grinned. “I’ve never seen you guys around here before — new in town?”
Leaning over the bar, Tony bent over dramatically. Gibbs took some time to growl at everybody advancing on them, which he recognized defeated the ultimate point of the sting but he felt he had to draw the line somewhere: yes, Tony was pervert-bait, no Gibbs didn’t have to like it.
“Well,” Tony confided in the bartender, “new on the scene.”
“I see,” the bartender said, smiling, handing Tony his shot. “Here you go.”
Winking, Tony purred, “Thanks, handsome.”
“DiNozzo,” Gibbs growled.
The bartender, a man with excellent self-preservation instincts, laughed, “I go by John, actually — but it’s nice to meet you both.” He winked, moving down the bar, “Anyway — welcome to the Boom Boom Room; ladies night is Thursdays.”
More forthcoming!
(10) The story in which — and I could not make this up if my life depended on it — Tony is a cop falsely accused of corruption in a world still ruled by Roman concepts, and is rescued into manslavery by Gibbs. Who then takes him to Italy and keeps him naked (a lot). In between, there’s a cameo with Nick and Grissom, who appear for no other reason other than to give Grissom an opportunity to spank Nick half to death out of master-ly love.
(9) The story in which Draco Malfoy discovers that one can put drumsticks up their bottom, and Lucius discovers it is possible to be jealous of an inanimate object — at least until your son starts inquiring about putting his daddy’s thing up there with the drum sticks.
(8) The story in which Lex Luthor actually gets picked up as Overlord Kal-El’s sexual plaything. Only it was really bad. I’d say the magical “w” word but then it’d give it away like that.
(7) The story in which (God, it causes me physical pain to think about this one) Rodney McKay’s first military-background boyfriend was gay-bashed to death and so he was thereby vilified by said boyfriend’s family for causing his demise, his second big gay boyfriend used to emotionally and physically abuse him to the point that — and this is where it gets really amazing — Rodney is afraid to be yelled at. Which is just terrible for him and John since John’s father murdered his mother in front of John’s very eyes so he’s very prone to rage blackouts and yells at Rodney in their joint therapy sessions.
(6) The story in which Booth is injured in a horrible accident and Brennan has to take temporary custody of Parker, Booth’s son — and everybody calls Brennan “Tempey” and she and Parker BOND IMMEDIATELY LIKE MOM’S AND LITTLE BOYS WHO ARE MEANT TO BE YOUR BABY ARE WONT TO DO. And then she and Booth get married.
(5) The story in which Tony has a literal nervous breakdown after Ziva invites the entire NCIS gang over to her house for dinner and does not include him — and that continues onward with all characters realizing in mute horror that Tony is so depressed and totally cutting himself and that Ziva didn’t even try to invite him, so they start tormenting her as much as possible to get her back for breaking Tony’s heart. Even Gibbs vows to get her back for this unspeakable wrong against his boy man sorry wrong story having PTSD flashbacks to the Roman Empire one.
(4) The story in which Clark has shitbabies. All you bitches in SV fandom know which one I’m talking about. Don’t look at me like that. You read it, too.
(3) The story in which John Sheppard is kidnapped and made a harem slave/sex slave/man slave/cock slave/some kind of sexually exploitive slave that eroticized forced sexual intercourse. YES THERE ARE A LOT OF THESE TO FUCKING CHOOSE FROM.
(2) The story in which Caldwell spends a lot of time having questionable-consent sex with Sheppard and unironically forces Sheppard to call him “Daddy.” And then General Hammond joins in or something. I try not to think about it too much — it was that blue page with the yellow text, and once I realized what I was highlighting to read, I nearly slapped myself stupid. (This is the same genius that brought us Kavanagh Has Violent Rape-Murder Fantasies About John! story.)
(1) The story in which — uuuuuuuuuuuugh — John has a seriously exploitive semi-sexual relationship with not at all mildly autistic Rodney McKay.
Title: Strictly on a Need to Know Basis
Rating: PG
Summary: “For fuck’s sake, Gibbs — is this some kind of exchange program that I don’t know about?â€
Fast and unbetaed and totally irredeemably dumb.
I write (silliness) in moments of extreme stress, and given that my flight to Seattle is tomorrow afternoon, I’m feeling fairly justifiably stressed. I’m equal parts scared and psyched here, folks, but I think in the last hour I’ve been tilting more toward “scared” than psyched, which is not awesome.
Also! Those of you who are Seattle natives or live nearby, if you don’t already have my phone number, drop me a line at rageprufrock at gmail dot com and let me know if you want to hang out — I’d love some company on my first few days in the Emerald City, and well, basically anytime at all. I love: smut, bars, and long walks on the shoreline and also talking about televised gay. Come on people, be my friend.
I’ve been reading an embarrassing amount of NCIS fic lately — keep in mind, 90 percent of it is appalling. Like, I’m not joking guys, really appalling, the type of stories where Gibbs gives Tony a collar which inspires him to cry and weep in gratitude at his Master or also the ever-popular Tony gets gaybashed and Gibbs tears everybody a new asshole after he attack’s Tony’s. And I like that shit. It’s like everybody has the right ideas and does like eight kilos of coke before attempting execution.
And then you stumble across a writer like Sequitur on — wait for it — ff.net. She/He writes astonishingly good NCIS genfic, with a strong, strong undercurrent of smart and awesome, and her balance of the relationship between Gibbs and his team and Tony and his team and Gibbs and Tony especially, are knock-you-over awesome.
• Rictus — Even if you’ve never read NCIS fic before, or know nothing about the show, I’d recommend you give at least Rictus a try — it’s gritty and doesn’t pull any punches, and it’s the story of how Baltimore PD Detective Anthony DiNozzo ended up meeting and working with Gibbs. It’s a work in progress, but with fourteen extremely meaty chapters that have already telegraphed the ending. I can’t say enough wonderful things about this story, about how it made me cry and laugh and ache for Tony, and how Gibbs’ reluctant concern for him shines through with admirable subtlety. It’s hard to write these two, to get the voices down, and it’s even harder to write crime stories, a real mystery, and to do it justice while addressing all the emotions involved. I couldn’t put it down. I know at least one of you mentioned a passing familiarity with the X-Files fandom, and if you were ever knee-deep in the casefile stories of yore, you’ll probably remember things like The Abyss Looks Back — this? Kick’s Abyss’ ass. I’m naming this the official best NCIS fic I have read to date, bar none, regardless of pairing.
• Ten Nonlinear Moves — This is a story about how Tony and his team manage after Gibbs leaves them in the third season finale, Hiatus (pt 1 and 2). Written in scenes and snapshots with just brilliant images and wonderfully vivid details, it’s the kind of story that describes the way memory comes in fits and spurts. Funny and sweet with an underlying thread of longing to it — and this story is just so fundamentally Tony: so much caring and worry and brains wrapped up in jokes about flowcharts and mass invites to go see Snakes on a Plane. Not to be missed.
All right folks, happy reading!
And as I was pursing this line of thinking as I was — I’m not joking — on my knees scrubbing out my apartment (God damn moving), my iPod kicked in with Melissa Ferrick, “Drive,” and I said, out loud to my roommate’s conditioner: “Oh my God. That is totally Gibbs and Tony’s fucked up sex song.” I love the idea of multimedia and intertextuality, so if I could program songs to cue up in stories, I’d do it, and if there was a scene where Gibbs was shoving Tony up against a wall and pinning his wrists to the wall, whispering in his ear, I’d totally be playing this song.