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if you read nothing else in this post, read the last paragraph!!!
The printer is making death rattle noises. There are four of us currently here, in an office of 20+. None of my favorites are in. At least five of the people who aren't here are out for the entire week. So much jealousy. So much. I know my vacation is coming but I want it to come FASTER! I really miss having a winter break this year. This is the first year I've ever not finished reading through the Yuletide archive before having to go back to school/work. I am only up to the beginning of the M's in the fandom list; I'm a little over halfway there. I want to read more and more and more, but I'm trying to avoid fan fiction while at work, especially since my wireless access is no longer cutting it and I can't do internets on my laptop.
Basically, this is a pointless post about how bored I am and how cranky I am that I have to be at work today when I could be at home reading fanfic, kink meme-ing, and RPing. Ridiculous complaints are ridiculous, but I am still so happy it is a four-day work week.
(If you want a good laugh, go through Rotten Tomatoes' section for Sherlock Holmes. Some of the less flattering reviews are uproarious. I sat by myself at the reception desk this morning, as no one called and no one came in, just laughing my ass off. Bad reviews are the best! Writers always come up with their best turns of phrase in them.)
So this is a Give Me Things to Write and I Shall Endeavor to Write Them post! You all know my fandoms and what I am willing to try (for the record, a few ideas off the top of my head: Sherlock Holmes (new movie or oldschool canon), Iron Man, Glee, Sons of Anarchy, The Mentalist, NCIS, Bones, How I Met Your Mother, iCarly, National Treasure, M*A*S*H, Hellboy, Firefly, True Blood... there are many many many things I'm willing to try that aren't on this list, so feel free to request others if you know I am familiar with the source material). I can't write anything dreadful or explicit due to being at work, but otherwise, I'm pretty easy. Give me a character or characters, a pairing, a situation you want to see somebody in, a word or a song lyric or a phrase... Crossovers, crack, angst, romance, gen, whatever else, and general ridiculousness are all a-okay. Just give me something to jot short things about. For the love of God, please. D: D:
Basically, this is a pointless post about how bored I am and how cranky I am that I have to be at work today when I could be at home reading fanfic, kink meme-ing, and RPing. Ridiculous complaints are ridiculous, but I am still so happy it is a four-day work week.
(If you want a good laugh, go through Rotten Tomatoes' section for Sherlock Holmes. Some of the less flattering reviews are uproarious. I sat by myself at the reception desk this morning, as no one called and no one came in, just laughing my ass off. Bad reviews are the best! Writers always come up with their best turns of phrase in them.)
So this is a Give Me Things to Write and I Shall Endeavor to Write Them post! You all know my fandoms and what I am willing to try (for the record, a few ideas off the top of my head: Sherlock Holmes (new movie or oldschool canon), Iron Man, Glee, Sons of Anarchy, The Mentalist, NCIS, Bones, How I Met Your Mother, iCarly, National Treasure, M*A*S*H, Hellboy, Firefly, True Blood... there are many many many things I'm willing to try that aren't on this list, so feel free to request others if you know I am familiar with the source material). I can't write anything dreadful or explicit due to being at work, but otherwise, I'm pretty easy. Give me a character or characters, a pairing, a situation you want to see somebody in, a word or a song lyric or a phrase... Crossovers, crack, angst, romance, gen, whatever else, and general ridiculousness are all a-okay. Just give me something to jot short things about. For the love of God, please. D: D:
no subject
(1/2)
guest starinvestigate a serial killer and is kidnapped by him (and ultimately rescued by the L.A. NCIS team)."Hi McGee," Abby says cheerfully, navigating her rolling suitcase with one hand and her cell phone with the other. "I was going to text Gibbs but then I realized Gibbs doesn't text so I thought I'd text you but then I couldn't text and walk at the same time so I probably should have gone back to Gibbs but I already had your number dialed."
"I take it you're on the ground?" Timmy sounds a little out of breath; Abby thinks she probably interrupted him in the middle of running some kind of bizarre late night Gibbsian errand.
"You take it correctly!" she tells him, stepping around a family of five (the little girl staring after Abby's Doc Martens and dog collar, which wasn't the best choice ever for an airport security day). "Baggage bagged, security circumvented, and door about to be ... dove through. Dived through?" She wrinkles her nose. "That alliteration didn't work out the way I'd planned. Ignore that."
She pulls her suitcase out into the big area where -- actually, she doesn't know the technical term for it. Arrivals gate? Giant open space where people wait with bated breath for loved ones and wave homemade glittery signs welcoming them home? Abby totally digs that part of traveling, watching the happy reunions and all, but her flight from L.A. arrived in D.C. at 12:16 A.M. EST (man is that a lot of acronyms at once), which makes it barely 9:00 in Abby's still-in-California mind, which is always disconcerting. But anyway -- getting in after midnight means that there are less travelers and not so many little kids wanting to hug Daddy home.
"Hello?" she asks into the phone. "Hel-lo? You know, McGee, that long pause after someone stops saying something is usually a cue for you to--"
"Sorry," he breaks in. "Sorry, I just had to -- There you are."
Abby frowns. "There what is? What in the name of Linux is Gibbs making you do for him?"
"Gibbs isn't making me do anything for him," says McGee, his voice echoing strangely, and then she looks up and sees him standing about five feet away. Cell phone held to his ear, he gives her a wave even as he breaks out into a smile. "Hi."
"McG--" Abby starts to say into the phone, then she stops, closes the phone, and drops the handle of her suitcase. "McGee, what're you doing here!" She launches herself at him, beaming, and from the way he holds fast even after being hit with an onslaught of Goth, he's either been working out lately or knew that was coming and braced himself for it. Maybe both!
"I thought you might need a ride home," he says into her hair, his arms wrapped around her almost as tight as hers are around him, and Abby smiles with her mouth closed against his shoulder and her eyes squeezed shut.
(2/2)
"Are you sure?" he asks. " 'Cause some of 'em were pretty cool."
"Yes," says Abby firmly. "I'm completely sure. You can tell me all about your hacking-the-TSA escapades later." From his immediate guilty silence, he most likely actually did hack the TSA to figure out her flight number. Awww! goes Abby's internal monologue. That's so sweet! She sniffles against his shoulder, and she feels him grip her hip a little harder.
"Abs?" he asks quietly, his low voice just above her ear. "You okay?"
"I'm copacetic." It's said pretty genuinely as she untangles herself from what was a long hug, even by her own standards. "Um, so, I was thinking," she says brightly, pragmatic, "you said you're here to give me a ride home, but your place is closer to Dulles than mine and I'm really not-so-tired, so--"
"You want to kick my ass at Call of Duty?" he guesses, after a moment.
Abby considers this, then says, "I'm not much of a kicker; it'll probably be more of a light massage." McGee looks torn between laughing and choking, which cheers her immensely. "I mean, unless you wanted to go to slee--" Tim leans in and kisses her cheek. "--eeep." She beams at him. "Aw, McGee! You're the best." Grinning back, he grabs her suitcase before she can get to it. Abby's not always all about the men-showing-chivalry thing, but in this case, it's nice. She hooks McGee's free arm in hers, and she says happily, "Home, James.
"--Your home, not mine."
"Got it," says McGee, and he steers her out the door, into the car, into his apartment complex, and in front of a big beautiful gaming console, where they play Call of Duty and Medal of Honor until Abby finally starts to droop at 4:30 in the morning and McGee carts her off to bed, and really, it isn't that hard to convince him that no, he shouldn't sleep on the couch with all those bookshelves for company; he should be in his own bed. It doesn't take more than a couple of tugs on his arm and some sleepy assurances, and Abby falls asleep tucked against Tim's side, under his arm.
Re: (2/2)