Fire Has Never Been so Welcomed

Yes, this is about White Collar, and it will probably be seasoned, sprinkled and generously dashed with SPOILERS and all sorts of SLASHY comments, like the could be any other kind of comments regarding this  "Oh dear, I love it so much" series. I mean, I've been checking out Dr. House, and it is catching me, and no little merit on that goes to no other than Hugh Laurie - amazing how good can that man look - and yet still, White Collar... it got me hooked. But then again, you've already knew that.

For WEEKS now I've been hooking on Fox Channel every Tuesday night to peek at Mr.Hot and Mr.Good do what they do best: come up with all kinds of unseeming plots only to repeat every once in a while how Neal will get canned if the suspect isn't (kinda like "there will be an arrest, no matter who, but there will be one"), Peter has some trust issues with Neal, but can't live without him and goes ignoring his wife more than what's healthy (it spells CRUSH with capital letters for me), while Neal keeps rubbing up to him, all smiles and puppy eyes (Sam Winchester would have a thing or two to learn from him), suffers like some maiden locked in a tower (and he is... kinda locked in a tower) everytime Peter doubts him, and does everything in his power - legal, ilegal or borderline - to please him. All this while kept on a leash, which up to this point he seems to enjoy greatly. Then now, as you are eased into the series, things get... warmer. Personal space gets reduced almost to strict bodily occupied space, as they are constantly so on each other's face as if they were trying to physically fit a 15' TV screen. They are often so close to each other that the only way to look into each other's eyes is by crossing them.

Not that I mind.

Then comes "the speech". Subtext is quickly replaced with Neal confessing his absolute and greatest "trust" in Peter... even above Kate. If you are an otaku, a manga reader or a yaoist (or all at once), this particular scene may have taken you back to one so many shojo mangas where the weakened/drugged (yeah, because Puppy-boy was tripping on chill-pills) half confesses his or her love to the Hero or Heroine of the story. All slashers of the world, I'm positive, sneered "Trust... suuuuuuuuuuure". All wholesome, family-centered, Republican, homophobes probably either turned off the TV and sore not to watch that pack of fruit cakes ever again, or performed extreme denial-reasoning procedures on their brains, hoping to convince themselves that Neal is evil and he's so stupid he thinks he can seduce Peter the same way he picks up chicks, and yeah, he's probably Democrat... but this is not a gay scene.

Then comes Peter ruffling up Neal's hair and Neal letting him like the good little boy he is. And Peter chops off a big chunk out of their personal space, and Neal kinda clings to his side, and Peter comes even closer, and then Peter totally ignores Elizabeth, Chuck bless that slasher woman's heart, and Mozzie runs with messages from Neal to Peter, and Neal worries about the words Peter says to him, and Peter can't care less for anything, brushed off his wife, but at the sole mention of Neal, he drops everything and charges ahead.

Plot thickens because in the most classic slasher fashion there is one episode where oh-dear, Peter must go live with Neal. A question comes to my mind: Do they have J.L. Langley on the payroll? Here quoting Bobby Singer from Supernatural "Vegas' money is on Yes".

A lot of moments go by, mostly gestures, attitudes, half words and stuff of the sort, enough to keep up the slasher bonfire, but not so much that would either create so much expectation you would necessarily have to get them in bed and rename the series "Gay Collar". After all, you gara keep the promise to the wide audience, and this is a series about a thief, an conterfeiter working with the FBI.

Then comes the season's last episode, a clear promise of a second season, and boy if I am not waiting for it with great impatience and deep hunger. Loose ends kind of seem to get tied, only to untie others even more twisted, pack the plot with as much questions and potential as it can take, get the box, give the box, say the standard good-byes... ask Elizabeth about who she and Peter... and the question in the mind of all (since Elizabeth answers about how she knows Peter is her one), is whether Neal is questioning is feelings about Kate... and about Peter? Yeah, yeah, blame it all on the slasher eye... whatever, and then in the last scene, Peter catches up with Neal and does his best to convince him to stay. Kick Kate's butt and stay with him. Neal visibly wavers, doubts and his resolution is as firm and set as custard, yet still decides to go. Peter then asks him why is he the only one he didn't say good-bye to.

"Because you're the only one who can change my mind."

I'm sure I have read that in so many yaoi stories... yeah.

A smile, a contented, happy, smile.

"Am I?"

That doesn't go with an answer. Peter tries again, pleads his case, tells him that he has people there, he has a place and Neal walks off, stops and seems truly tortured, thorn between his... love? A matter of Peter or Kate to choose from, and it nearly seems as if he's going to choose Peter, or he would choose Peter but he has decided long ago for Kate, who is the one who got him break out of prison and risk everything for love, when (and here I remember Agent Hendricks from Supernatural, now Wilkes in White Collar) the jet he was about to board, where Kate was waiting for him (and I hope she really was in there!) explodes in a bliss of golden fire. Quite an explotion and quite a mass of flames for such a tiny plane.

Neal screams and goes berserk, Peter holds him from behind, restrains him and keeps him safe, which is quite metaphorical as that's what he always does, that's his role: worry for Neal and so restrain him, keep and eye on him to keep him safe.

If we are all lucky, Kate will go to the roasted-chicken hell or heaven, I don't care, but won't pull a Winchester and will stay dead. If we are lucky we will have another season with Neal and Peter and more of this "closing on each other" thing that's going on. If we are really lucky, Alex will be the next to die, and will do so soon. After all, like I told Carrie today over the phone: "Supernatural hardly has any more women on the cast, but you don't see the fans complaining!". After all, if you wanna see women, watch The L Word.

Really, Tuesday is my favorite day. Today... NCIS: Los Angeles. Time to see Chris O'Donnell and L L Cool J hit it. Odd but there my ultimate favorite, like I've told you before, is Linda Hunt in the role of Hetty Lange. I mean, Chris and LL go out of their way to make slashy remarks and sometimes pull slashy stunts, but still Hetty is there the star. You rock, Girl!

International TGIF day?

Given the fact that Dad managed to get himself yet another sick-leave (and I'm positive it's some ruse he and some friendly doc are cooking up, because nobody gets so many days ever so often for a hurting wrist), my options to reach the office were either take a caravan of buses or ask a coworker to give me a ride. Since this particular coworker, Smurf, pointedly asked why have I stopped going with him, I decided to call him and ask him if he can give me a ride. Well, that and the fact that his girlfriend is simply adorable and the sweetest, most precious person I have met made me jump at the open offer and call them early. Andy, the adorable Smurfette, picked up the phone and said, God bless her tender soul, that sure thing.

So they gave me a ride. After greeting, Andy's first comment was "Finally Friday!" with such a festive, happy countenance as if it were some long awaited holiday. Then again, for a Friday that's not an unusual expression, but it struck me that gathered, overworked, quite Andy would make such an enthusiastic exclamation before me, after all we are not kin nor we are coworkers or best friends, just friendly acquintances. Perhaps what struck me was the source, not so much the content of the exclamation or the tone itself. Well, Patrick knows. Either way, surprising or not, it was  - well - a true statement.

Then, after fulfilling my due-diligence with a task left from yesterday (Oh dear Patrick, Carrie!!! It was so AWESOME!!! Gonna go over it again and again and again! Totally... wow!), I leaped up to the net, came here and what do I see but Dragonfly also celebrating the Friday. My coworkers also, in disorganized chorus, sighed this day with relieve and joy, planning even, signing up to a hearty lunch complete with a good, cool bottle of beer. On a week day? Never. On Friday? A must.

I myself, since I don't have any date with any of my friends - sad but true -  was thinking about tying my weekly NCIS with a nice, cold bottle of Smirnoff Ice. (I'm not much of an alone beer drinker, but I totally adore drinking Smirnoff while watching TV.) It is Friday after all and the world seems to be consumed in celebrating it, so why wouldn't I? (Specially when tomorrow I'll have this AWESOME 4-5 hour White Collar marathon?) So, in face of the facts presented, yes, I will celebrate this Friday, and hope everybody else is also up to do so.

Once again a week has gone by without me either mailing Calendulina's letter nor getting on with Sonja's letter. It has gone by without meeting with Shimmy Gin, whom I'm missing like Hell, not meeting with Carrie, and boy we need to meet! Then again, Carrie and I fixed this thing yesterday over a one hour phone conversation: we will meet on Monday in order to gap about how awesome this week's and last week's Supernatural episode was (hope this week's is good, 'coz ain't haven't seen it yet, but last week's was a freaking Oh-Dear-Patrick! with all the "Your demon lover, Brady" and "Did you kissed him?" and holding, grabbing, pulling, trumping over each other and awkward hand landing on hip-ass- upper (VERY UPPER) thigh. One word there, I don't know about Dean, but Jensen did lost all his male-touch-virtue (if such a thing exists) there), and then delve into the Sweet-Patrick-White Collar-is-heaven-and-Neal-is-awesome followed by the deep, intellectual, philosophical discussion over whether Neal Caffrey is or is not one of the Ukes of Destiny. My money is on "yes", and I'll do my best to prove my point. I mean, he is not a Mochizuki, that's granted - though if you look up to it closely.... - but he is quite Ryo Maclean quite often, or a Draco-in-Draco-Snape, as we concluded yesterday, and he can hardly go seme, specially when he bows to El, so yeah, he IS a total uke. But that is next week Monday. This week Friday is "pass da booze, brotha!"

Peace out.

P.D.: Thanks to Smurf for providing a picture of the Smurf-mobil.

Good

I have this awesome idea for a White Collar fic. Really good, or so I think. Well, in my head is quite good, truth to be told, and I would like to read and re-read that story, but, evidently, if I don't write it down, nobody will, right? What's about? Well.... nah, won't tell you yet, but it does involve frisking and the Miranda rights and cuffs. I dunno if it came from what I saw on NCIS: Los Angeles last night, or the thoughts that re-reading Wild Rock put in my head, but it is a nice, plausible plot. Or so I think. Oh well, if I decide to do it, I'll let you know, and if I upload it somewhere I'll send you the link.

3rd Day of the Week

Yesterday was a perfect, perfect, PURRRRRRFECT day for me. No, it wasn't an exceptionally good day at work, specially since Dumby-Doo, the new secretary of the Direction assigned me a meeting room for the afternoon, butit seems she lacks either the information, the system, the power or the mojo to do it and make it stick, and so the Noppy-Noo assistant, who does possess all the power of Grayskull, and so it's invested with the mojo, gave the same meeting room to someone else, and made it stick. Meaning? Not much, just that I had people coming from another frotting district for a meeting and I didn't even had a chair to sit them. No biggie, though, as I've got Ro to lend me her office, where a discarded round table and three already-depreciated chairs offered Zo, Leli and I a place to sit and talk business. In the end, though there's pressure from every corner of the Earth (as usual) to get the stuff going, I made my point poking all the soft points and having them checked again. In the middle of the meeting my attention was drawn then to yet another tender point and, needless to say, I poked it and bursted it open. Taking these matters in hand and making them get around was good, was great, was awesome, but it wasn't that thing that made my day purrrrfect. My day was made purrrrfect by White Collar. Dear, let me tell you that the more I watch this series, the more I love, I love, I love it! (Me going Mr. Darcy? Nah...)

Being the good and considerated friend I am, I hurried to send an SMS to Carrie so that she doesn't forget to watch it. To my utter surprise she told me she wasn't gonna, but she would wait to Saturday to watch the marathon on Fox.Well, I think that's a follower, a converse I lost to the cause. I mean, even though it was me who converted her into Supernatural, it was me who brought the Winchesters into her life (she did had a faint idea of them, but not as forceful as after my preaching), she now walks by the ULTIMATE DELICATESSEN of White Collar? What's wrong with her!? Specially when I detailed for her the events to happen in the last episode (I read the full recap of the episode here), and TOLD HER that there would be HELPLESS DRUGGED CONFESSIONS made. What self-respecting slasher would EVER let such a delectable, pairing-canonizing event go by unseen? Well, all I have to add to this is that Youka Nitta wouldn't be proud of it. Oh, and the episode? Delicious as ever. Matt Bomer looks yummy with glasses. I'm sure Carrie would just love that. The plot was somewhat worn off, reheated from so many references to corruption in the organ transplant lists, and, to my personal opinion, it could have been better prepared, deeeper reaching, a bit stronger on the social aspect of it, which was barely brushed over, then with unexplained, magical solutions handed at the end as if the Disney-Rule-For-Happy-Endings-Were-Law, which, honestly, took from the tone and the shine the episode could have had. I mean, sure, I watch White Collar for the guy, because if I wanted some meatier crime solving I would turn to Miss Marple, to any Procedural Cop Show, and if I wanted a guaranteed happy ending I would turn to the Disney Channel. Yet still, I may love that hot piece of human the producers dangle before our eyes, but eventually I would love to see more than sex appeal and heavy-slash-duty.

Now this. Heavy-slash-duty. This episode was quite peppered up with it. (I'm totally, totally buying the series! But should I buy it at once or wait for the Black Friday? Hn, hard question.) If I had to compare and pair up the guys with Manga equivalents... well, in this episode Neal was quite...Ranmaru (Kizuna) like, in the sense of being nice, soft, uke-ish and concerned about others' wellbeing. It oozed all over the uke-ish aura, and the soft, good guy, all-to-make-others-happy vibe of Ryo Maclean from Fake (a manga I almost know by heart), with the here and there outbursts of recklessness proper of Dee Laytner (Fake). He was to die for, and I don't usually die for ukes.

On the other hand, this time Peter was quite Dee Laytner, minus the "bend the law where it doesn't fit the plan" attitude, except here and there, the same way Ryo Maclean would. When it came to the undercover scheme, dear Pete was chosen as the decoy to lure the "guardian" or "gate keeper" lady, some hot assistent who basically decided who enters, who leaves (or something like that - to put it simple), given the fact that said lady wouldn't react to Neal's charm, but jumped at Peter like a drowning man to a lifesaver. Usually Neal handles the seduce'em and distract'em part of the job, so dear Petey wasn't comfortable on the part, giving a way a quite strong Yuuen (Wild Rock)-like vibe.(And he didn't even had to dress like a gal!) 

Silly situations follow, a few quite dummy sequences regarding the domestic life of the Burkes (to which Neal seems to have integrated as some sort of junior partner that, not being much younger than the senior partners, can be bossed arround by any of them, following a quite parent-child mechanic, where Pete can berate Neal, but then Neal turns to El with puppy eyes and a "but I can, can't I?" and El can reverse the berating of Pete) where more and more we get the idea that El is a hardcore slasher and more like the best friend of Pete living with him in quite a Will&Grace arrangement.

Other than the usual twists and turns, Neal resourcing to "skills from the Dark Side", or "Dark Arts" to solve crimes (like there's no chance in hell he could do so legally, nor with the aid of the FBI because somehow the FBI - in this case or even the X Files cases - is just so helpless and incompetent), and then the constant, already boring, pending menace that "either Caffrey solves this case and catches the guy or he is going to jail for good this time", (Dude, cut it off or we are going to get so annoyed, so fed up not even prancing him naked would do the trick for us anymore) which are already a commonplace - and not necessarily a funny one - this time the show kicked it up a notch with the slashing audience. If you ask me it was a deliberate teasing of the audience, just like now many shows have been doing it. Talk slash, insinuate slash, and you'll get a booming rating. 

Sorry, now-a-days the "Who's the Boss?" kind of perpetual man-woman sexual tension doesn't even sell cookies. People, the audience wants the next step, the next level and that's the slashy hinting. You can find it in Supernatural - a show I love, hitting now the 5th season, which wasn't looking pretty until they started embracing the slashiness of the situation, and now they are in the Stay-4-Sure list. NCIS: Los Angeles started hitting that tune and it's going somewhere. Castle... Castle didn't. Castle went Who's the Boss and... well, let's see how long it survives.

Anyway, pedaling back to White Collar, the purrrfection, the sweetness came, as predicted, with the druging thing. Sure, Pete runs to save Neal's hide, that's not a first, though it still feeds the rabid slashers, goes not-so-kosher in the rescuing, gets to the lad, by following his mellow, singing voice (I'm sure there must be a fairtale with a similar plot... or plain and simple refer to Ulyses and the Sirens) and finds him, oh dear, the almost canon situation in this fandom, sweetly, helplessly bound to a bed. Naturally, even druged, Neal can pick the locks, and as in any PWP (PWP: plot-what-plot. Refers to fics that have no plot but jump right away into the sex scene. Basically, porn.) fanfic, where the most abhorrently irrational, stupid situations which requiere a GAPING lack of common sense to happen... well, just like that, Neal does pick the locks, but remain in bed, waiting to be rescued. Dude, you can't go any more PWP than that! And as far as I know, decorum leaves this one privilegde for fanfickers writing PWP fics, like R to NC-17 rated, because that's the point, so why, oh why the screenplay writers did? Or was it actually a fanfic that got mixed with the real script and then it was too late to exchange it? Well, not that I really complain, I love PWP, but it did was... fan pleasing over the top. I do complain though, because that was so fanfic like and we didn't even got... you know... the "cookie".

Sweet Neal was as if written into a fanfic. Dear, smiley, ukeish. Pete, awkward here and there, did try to do the Knight in Shiny Armor part carrying the lovely drug pumped beauty in his arms, but again, awkward-trumped-slashy-hope. Still, stating his current uke-ness, Neal, trying to walk on his feet landed flat on the floor more times than imagined. Hand on mouth, close body contact, and then the drug hazed confession of trust, a trust that trampled that of the most important people in Neal's life (and honestly, this is where suddenly I was stabbed with suspition, thinking that it seemed prepared, and maybe Neal wasn't as out of himself as one would think, that was playing a part to tie Peter more to him, to get him to trust him more). Upon confession Peter went Dee Laytner, but not as in smooching the bejesus out of him, but in going back and STEALING the tape that would have prooved Neal broke into the hospital. Neal's response?

"You steal that for me?"

...

Okay, can ANYONE see this as anything but... evidently... slashy? Really, anyone. Any? Just one hand? Please? Yeah, I thought so.

After this, needless to say that I am a fan, I will own the series and all the seasons they do, and currently, I love this series so, so, so very much, I even place it over Supernatural.

Tuesday is my new favorite day of the week.

On the Deep Heart of Soul and Mind Transportation

"Las 9:37 y todo sereno" (9:37 and all quiet), would howl the old watchman on the streets of some Spanish or Spaniard town. And in all truth it is. I expected more of a ruckus, but things are soft and quite, safe from the Sun, that's rising up against my shaded, polarized window, pumping up the heat as if it where the one thing I needed to accompany my daily glass of bubbly, dark, refreshing Coke. The door to my office, made of glass and metal is open, held that way with a broken piece of light gray plastic that came off from whatever unidentified piece of furniture we all hope is not missing it. See? I don't mind having or not an office. I can work fairly well with the door open.

I can't work, though, without my music, so I hooked up my earplugs on, and pushed the play button on my iTunes letting the gates open for the flood of Dutch music (in English) break to the levees of silence and pour unsuspected into my ears in the sweet voice of Sharon den Adel, waiting for her glorious duet with Anneke Van Giersbergen. (And this is that very thin, very fine, very fragile point where all my cells, pouder for a moment a whim, to just push everything aside and say yes, I love them and if that makes me a lesbian for the lenght of the song, fucking be it. Those two worth it.) Music, this particular music is just... so transporting. Their voices, the sounds instruments and throats conjure cast such a dark, maddening hex upon us, dribling in our ears like the poisin in the King's ear in Hamlet. It makes us fly. It makes me fly. They make me fly. It's like the voices of dark angels guiding you in the chilly black night sky, in a trail of kisses and feathers towards an unknown destination that might be dooming, might be enlightening, but the trip itself splits self from body, consciousness from soul, rips you to your components, untangles the human and spread it so far apart pieces doesn't seem to match anymore. This looks a lot like a great day. 

I've plans to meet with Carrie for some fangirling, basically all about Supernatural - what else? -  and the last Episode "The Devil You Know", and the episode before that, and perhaps a few others down the way. After all, going the series down the trackthey are taking only two things are worth to do: fangirling and fanfic-ing. Not that I can complain, because at least Dean has finally stopped going all Twilight every time Sam breaths, and Sam has been losing his Marianne Dashwood mood too, so things are going back to two-hot-brothers-kicking-the-supernatural, with a few glitches on the way, totally forgivable because they are handsome. I know, that's so sexist, but I'm not watching the series because they are smart of curing cancer, or are you? (Yes, I'm a straight woman who appreciates male beauty VERY MUCH! Is there a problem with that?)

I'm thinking also about talking to her about my latest (one of them, at least) fangirling, fanslashing discoveries. You know, because among girlfriends all good things must be shared, and this one is so awesome! It's White Collar. As a matter of fact yesterday I proded the net for some pieces and found a few quite... ummm... so, cannon makes Neal the uke? Interesting. ^_^ Not like I oppose, oh dear no. It's just interesting that from... 15 stories I found basically none of them let dear Mr. Caffrey take any role other than the passive one. Could it be due to his anklet? Could it be due to his charm? Could it be due to the fact that he's basically pussy whipped by Kate? Be it as it may, I guess I'll keep... ummm... researching the phenomenon, looking for all other possible scenarios to the case. Another thing I noticed, Hell, the way they play Agent Burke makes you look again at the plain, kitten gentle, slightly goofy, won't-kill-a-fly, clueless FBI agent. The phenomenon here is much like the Snape phenomenon: he's not supposed to be much, just some plain, flat, graceless spot on the wall, the "annoyment center", but fanfickers pick 'em up from the dust their creators leave them and push 'em up, make them into breathtaking gods. When it comes to the point where you can't decide between Caffrey and Burke, and find yourself oddly leaning towards Burke a bit more, that's the grand, the unstopable, the all transforming, all taking, all possessing power of fanfickers.