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crack_van2012-03-30 07:22 pm
flywoman.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2012-03-30 07:22 pm
Sensational by Mercy (R/NC-17)
This is my last rec for House here on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
crack_van. It's been a pleasure introducing you to my favorite recent fics and vids. Hopefully we won't have to wait quite so long before someone else volunteers to drive!
And when you leave feedback, make sure to tell 'em that you arrived via thecrack_van!
Fandom: HOUSE M.D.
Pairing: House/Wilson, references to House/OFC
Length: one-shot
Warnings: Hand jobs, references to drug and alcohol abuse, brief references to S&M, scat and auto-erotic asphyxiation.
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mercycroft41
Author Website: Author's Fic on LJ
Why this must be read:
Mercy definitely qualifies as a new author as she only posted her first House fics to comms about a week and a half ago. They are not perfect - she is unapologetic about Briticisms, and anachronisms appear as well - but she brings a unique perspective to House/Wilson fandom that has everyone excited. This fic in particular features a fresh, original House voice that is a little chilling but totally believable in its rapidfire switches between his current case, his past experiences, and his real-time sensations. Like poor Wilson, you may not be quite sure what hit you.
---- The door rattles, and opens to reveal Wilson. I take another Vicodin. The rattle of the bottle is yellow, like its colour.
‘Where are my popsicles?’
‘What?’
‘My popsicles? Didn’t you get my message?’
He fishes his phone out of his work trousers and looks at the screen.
‘You left it forty-five seconds ago.’
‘Your phone must be malfunctioning.’
‘Your brain must be malfunctioning.’
---- It couldn’t be Lupus. Foreman would’ve rung me to say a fever had spiked – with that unmistakable ‘I’m right’ note of triumph in his voice. The answer’s there. I just know it is. It’ll come to me in the next hour. ---- I take another Vicodin. ----
I was a drug addict even before the infarction. Even before I truly knew what unbearable pain, and the burning urge to make it end, really meant. Come to think of it, even before the end of my childhood. There were curious and unemotional experiments I’d conduct on myself. At the age of six – how far could I fall without breaking a bone? Twenty feet from the tree in the backyard. Twenty-one feet and I broke my collar bone. At seven – how far back could I bend my own left arm before I started to cry with pain? An angle of sixty-two degrees. At eight – how much Night Nurse could I swallow before passing out or throwing up? Four-and-a-half bottles. ----
‘Did you at least bring beer?’
‘I came straight from work. I brought my briefcase, my headache and the certain anticipation that you’d begin to demand things the minute I walked through the door.’
‘Get the six-pack out of the fridge, then. We’re watching The Kardashians.’
Sensational
crack_van. It's been a pleasure introducing you to my favorite recent fics and vids. Hopefully we won't have to wait quite so long before someone else volunteers to drive!And when you leave feedback, make sure to tell 'em that you arrived via the
crack_van!Fandom: HOUSE M.D.
Pairing: House/Wilson, references to House/OFC
Length: one-shot
Warnings: Hand jobs, references to drug and alcohol abuse, brief references to S&M, scat and auto-erotic asphyxiation.
Author on LJ:
mercycroft41Author Website: Author's Fic on LJ
Why this must be read:
Mercy definitely qualifies as a new author as she only posted her first House fics to comms about a week and a half ago. They are not perfect - she is unapologetic about Briticisms, and anachronisms appear as well - but she brings a unique perspective to House/Wilson fandom that has everyone excited. This fic in particular features a fresh, original House voice that is a little chilling but totally believable in its rapidfire switches between his current case, his past experiences, and his real-time sensations. Like poor Wilson, you may not be quite sure what hit you.
---- The door rattles, and opens to reveal Wilson. I take another Vicodin. The rattle of the bottle is yellow, like its colour.
‘Where are my popsicles?’
‘What?’
‘My popsicles? Didn’t you get my message?’
He fishes his phone out of his work trousers and looks at the screen.
‘You left it forty-five seconds ago.’
‘Your phone must be malfunctioning.’
‘Your brain must be malfunctioning.’
---- It couldn’t be Lupus. Foreman would’ve rung me to say a fever had spiked – with that unmistakable ‘I’m right’ note of triumph in his voice. The answer’s there. I just know it is. It’ll come to me in the next hour. ---- I take another Vicodin. ----
I was a drug addict even before the infarction. Even before I truly knew what unbearable pain, and the burning urge to make it end, really meant. Come to think of it, even before the end of my childhood. There were curious and unemotional experiments I’d conduct on myself. At the age of six – how far could I fall without breaking a bone? Twenty feet from the tree in the backyard. Twenty-one feet and I broke my collar bone. At seven – how far back could I bend my own left arm before I started to cry with pain? An angle of sixty-two degrees. At eight – how much Night Nurse could I swallow before passing out or throwing up? Four-and-a-half bottles. ----
‘Did you at least bring beer?’
‘I came straight from work. I brought my briefcase, my headache and the certain anticipation that you’d begin to demand things the minute I walked through the door.’
‘Get the six-pack out of the fridge, then. We’re watching The Kardashians.’
Sensational