I've got this thing about the story-telling tradition, you see. And how our histories are made up of stories and if we don't tell them, we'll lose them. And once they're on their second or third generation re-telling we've already mislaid parts, shed them from our memories, so we have to fill in the gaps or learn new ways of telling the same story. Anyway. I'm trying to remember, for my sake and for my niece and nephew and whoever comes next. This is what happens:
Written for picfor1000. Apparently original fic (or highly fictionalised reality) is my thing for that now. Thanks to my Nny for once again providing the confidence I needed to get this posted. *hugs her*
My picture prompt is here and you should go and look at it if you want to feel warm and happy on the inside.
PG, 1000 words
WARNING: Mention of miscarriage (but not an unhappy ending). Please use a pre-reader if you have concerns.
"I'm keeping this one," she said, fierce and low as a tiger's growl. "I'm keeping him."
Hey, guys! Let's celebrate! Because today is the birthday of soupytwist, one of the most wonderful people to grace this planet. I love her for many, many reasons--she is unutterably kind and thoughtful, she's sharper than Pullman's subtle knife, she is a big ball of caring and enthusiasm and squee and she has a great rack. WHAT? I'm not above the shallow.
But here's the thing. You may (or may not) have noticed that in random, nebulous ways my health has pretty much sucked this last year. It's been a tough 12 months for me, but it would have been way, WAY worse without the summer weekend of clappy hands and the following epic e-mail trains of squee and flail and deeeeeep thought between soupytwist and me over the Big Gay Love of Tim and Tony and the awesome of NCIS in general. Honey, you made all the difference. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I'm so lucky to know you, KD-K, I'm glad you're part of my life. Happy, happy birthday to you, girlie girl. *squishes so tight*
So, for you, here's the boys. This is set around 708/709 which you probably STILL haven't seen (holiday!fail) but you are the most spoiler-happy person I know, so, you know, there's that. There are some very specific things that are in there for you--you'll know 'em when you see 'em. ♥
Many thanks to the lovely celli for beta. *squishes you also*
Tim/Tony, PG-13, 5000 words, some dialogue lifted directly from the show. Thanks, writers!
There are feelings. Tony's having feelings and they're not nice ones. At least, he doesn't think they are, he's usually too busy interrogating others' motives to have any time to spare for his own. Plus, there's the whole thing where emotions are messy and if his mom ever taught him anything, it was to keep his room tidy.
So that sequel you wanted to the boys meeting as wee!folk? I wrote it. Oh, hai thar, time on my hands. soupytwist looked it over and declared it fit for duty. (See what I did there?) This title taken from the poem A Soldier, by Rupert Brooke.
Tim/Tony, 2600 words, established relationship, PG-13, sequel to At the Going Down of the Sun--you probably should read this first, I doubt it'll make huge amounts of sense without it.
Returning to Arlington, Tony makes an unexpected, but not unwelcome, discovery.
I had this weird urge to write Tim and Tony meeting for the first time as little kids, and then I remembered it was Remembrance Sunday (I know you US guys do Veterans Day on the 11th) and somehow this was what came out. The title is from the poem, "For the Fallen" by Laurence Binyon.
I remember you, those who died, and those who survived. I remember you. And this may seem like a strange offering (and it is), but offering it is all the same.
Thank you to soupytwist who tells me I'm not crazy and wants to cuddle wee!Tim.
2800 words, gen, G, very pre-series so no spoilers
Tony's going to tell Uncle Jack just how pissed off he is at him for dying. At least, that's the plan. Only somehow Tony's plans never work out quite the way he expects.
To solve my writing woe (self-indulgent OHNOES! crap, don't worry), I wrote fic. Yay, me? It's a little angstier than usual which was interesting for me to write. See what you think.
Beta by my darlingest soupytwist, for whom no squishes are too many.
Tim/Tony, 3600 words, PG-13, set between 701 and 702. (This is not the post-ep fic I planned to write but it's the one that got written.)
Tony has a headache. Nothing showy like a migraine--no flashing lights or spectacular vomiting for him--just the regular unpleasant kind, a thousand tiny kung-fu black belts synchronized-punching the area behind his eyes over and over again. The kind where if you take your hands away from your head long enough your brain will split in two and sloppily slide out of your ears, squelching underfoot.
This may well be the post-ep fic that you are looking for, in that it's post-ep and also fic. Other than that, ymmv.
Post-703 (The Inside Man), 2700 words, PG, enthusiastic thumbs up from soupytwist but it's highly possible she was drunk at the time so do with that what you will.
This is not the post-ep fic you are looking for, sorry! For shetiger who gave me the adorable prompt Tony brought Tim a cookie, but he eated it. And he feels reallly, really bad about it.
That's all you need to know. Except. 2000 words (getting better at this 'ficlet' thing), no spoilers, though in my head it takes place between S6 and S7. Read-through by my dearest soupytwist.
The title of this fic is from Secret Lovers by Atlantic Starr. I totally blame schtroumph_c because she gave me the prompt (which you can see here but it gives away the plot if that kind of thing bothers you) and inadvertently ear-wormed me with that dreadful, dreadful song. So as punishment I wrote her 5000 words of fic. Er, there's something wrong with that equation. (Am I ever not going to fail at writing comment fic that's like, you know, an actual comment? Doubtful.)
ANYWAY.
Secret boyfriends, that's what they aren't... Set in that vaguely nebulous time after 702, so I've got, what, less than three days before I'm potentially completely Jossed. AWESOME. The usual (and pretty) eyes of soupytwist passed over it and deemed it fit for consumption.
comments.)
contemplative
loved
cold
anxious
bemused
yeah, baby
pleased