Happy birthday to me! (And many of you too.)

I am a quarter of a century old today. It feels at once like quite a lot and hardly anything at all. Twenty-five years, and still straddling the border between adolescence and adulthood.

...That's about all I've got; for once, I'm not feeling particularly maudlin or even introspective. Perhaps it has to do with just having returned from a relaxing and fun week with synn, jumping straight back into work today, not having too much time in which to brood, and/or becoming naturally less, rather than more, morbid with age.

To celebrate, there will be fic later. It's not new, exactly -- I'm still working on the two stories due in August -- but rather that long story I mentioned on the 1st, soon to be unlocked. Nothing says happy birthday like an inbox full of comments, right?

Also! Very happy birthdays to those of you who are celebrating/have celebrated around now: synn, purrlia, firestorm717, alisel_kat (much belated), elynross -- am I missing someone?

Last year, I invited all of you to tell the stories of your usernames. You are still invited to chip in over there. This year, I will merely be a geek and list some celebrities who share(d) my birthday: George Bernard Shaw, Aldous Huxley, Carl Jung, Stanley Kubrick, André Maurois, Mick Jagger, Nana Visitor (Kira on ST:DS9), Helen Mirren, Kevin Spacey, Sandra Bullock and Kate Beckinsale. How strange the ways in which we feel connected to people.

Fic! "The One in Which Wilson Plays a Mafia Punching Bag so House Can Comfort Him," NC-17, 1/3

Title: The One in Which Wilson Plays a Mafia Punching Bag so House Can Comfort Him (A Birthday Tribute)
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9,900
Spoilers: "Mob Rules"
Warnings: Meta and violence and slash, oh my. Specific warnings at the top of each part.
Summary: "Hello," she said, and gave Wilson an earnest smile. "We're going to play with some hurt/comfort today."
Disclaimer: I do not own House, Wilson, the Arnello brothers, Grey Eyes' gang, nightdog_barks or her simulacrum.
Author's Note: A meta hurt/comfort fic begun on nightdog_barks's birthday back in April, finished many weeks later, and presented now to you with her blessing. While this story stands on its own, as an homage it borrows heavily from Nightdog's work, including plot points, characters, structure/format, objects and phrases. It's sort of a continuous game of Spot The Nightdog Reference, and I invite you to play along!


( Wilson knelt on the floor in the dark basement... )

"The One in Which Wilson Plays a Mafia Punching Bag so House Can Comfort Him," NC-17, 2/3

Warning for Wilson-bashing.

Full header at the top of Part One

( Wilson groaned around the gag, his body a throbbing mass of pain. )

"The One in Which Wilson Plays a Mafia Punching Bag so House Can Comfort Him," NC-17, 3/3

(Full header here.)

Warning: This chapter is rated NC-17 for m/m sexual situations and issues of consent. Also, there are references to past mistreatment but only a little actual hurt in this chapter (in the first two short sections).
A/N: An especial shoutout/apology to daasgrrl because I inadvertently lifted one of her ideas from her glorious story Interference for a segment in here.


Part 1
Part 2

( 'It's simple, really,' she said. 'All I'm asking the two of you to do is make sweet, sweet love while I and my very appreciative audience watch.' )