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wow, that is a lot of tags
Caught up on SPN today. I suppose I have some things to say but I am apparently godawful at meta (even more so than usual!) when it comes to this show, so I'll content myself with wondering where the hell all the Dean/Bela porn is, because hot dang.
But
setissma is having a Baby, it's cold outside drabblefest over at her journal and the current contributions, including my little ficlet in which I cruelly deface a perfectly harmless Russian folk tale, are looking QUITE LONELY, so anyone SPN-inclined should head over there and leave scribbles/icons/randomness of their own.
Now: fic recs! You should realise that I read very little fanfiction; I don't follow any communities, so everything I read is either written or recced by my friends.
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private_meek -- Like A Swallow, Diving -- Heroes, Nathan/Mohinder
Here's one more body brought back to life, he thinks, one more resurrection. Our season of miracles drags on. Without end.
I could insert a whole thing here about how fucking thrilled I am that Art is writing stuff again, but instead you should just go and read this. I don't really read Heroes fic and I certainly wouldn't have considered this pairing, but the fic is perfectly...balanced. Words and families and hollow spaces.
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fryadvocate -- Seems Far From Home, Seems Farther From You - Doctor Who/Stargate: Atlantis, Martha Jones in Atlantis
She'd watched Japan die, one foot already on a new continent, her heart miles above the planet.
This is hardly news, but Fry has a real knack for original concepts, and for manipulating the canon evidence until it has reached an angle that is new, and confronting, but absolutely true. This is not a happy fic, but it's a true one, and all of her characters are spot-on.
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spikeyboots - when colour goes home into the eyes - Harry Potter, Sirius/Regulus
The face beside him belongs to both boy and monster; the youth is cold-hardened in him, sweet oil pressed from a piece of bread, to mouth, to fingers, to paper. The paper absorbs and distorts, fibres melting together and outwards; this boy’s skin is so.
I long ago stopped passing judgement on ANY Harry Potter pairings (although I have retained an inexplicable detestation of almost anything involving Snape) because the fandom can pull jewels out of the weirdest places, and the Black family is such a fucked-up place that Sirius/Regulus is pretty standard as fandom interpolation goes. ANYWAY. This is a dusty and miraculous portrait of a cityscape, and of the complexities of death, memory and surrendered consequence. And the words are beautiful.
~
Blah blah fandomness. Still totally obsessed with Bones, still drowning happily in OTP, still prepared to tear down mountains with my TEETH if it will get me some good Booth/Brennan fic so that I don't end up writing ridiculously romantic cohabitation fic of my own, because IT WILL HAPPEN, YOU GUYS, and then my carefully-constructed reputation as a writer of shining and ruthless cynicism will be destroyed forever.
But
Now: fic recs! You should realise that I read very little fanfiction; I don't follow any communities, so everything I read is either written or recced by my friends.
# By
Here's one more body brought back to life, he thinks, one more resurrection. Our season of miracles drags on. Without end.
I could insert a whole thing here about how fucking thrilled I am that Art is writing stuff again, but instead you should just go and read this. I don't really read Heroes fic and I certainly wouldn't have considered this pairing, but the fic is perfectly...balanced. Words and families and hollow spaces.
# By
She'd watched Japan die, one foot already on a new continent, her heart miles above the planet.
This is hardly news, but Fry has a real knack for original concepts, and for manipulating the canon evidence until it has reached an angle that is new, and confronting, but absolutely true. This is not a happy fic, but it's a true one, and all of her characters are spot-on.
# By
The face beside him belongs to both boy and monster; the youth is cold-hardened in him, sweet oil pressed from a piece of bread, to mouth, to fingers, to paper. The paper absorbs and distorts, fibres melting together and outwards; this boy’s skin is so.
I long ago stopped passing judgement on ANY Harry Potter pairings (although I have retained an inexplicable detestation of almost anything involving Snape) because the fandom can pull jewels out of the weirdest places, and the Black family is such a fucked-up place that Sirius/Regulus is pretty standard as fandom interpolation goes. ANYWAY. This is a dusty and miraculous portrait of a cityscape, and of the complexities of death, memory and surrendered consequence. And the words are beautiful.
~
Blah blah fandomness. Still totally obsessed with Bones, still drowning happily in OTP, still prepared to tear down mountains with my TEETH if it will get me some good Booth/Brennan fic so that I don't end up writing ridiculously romantic cohabitation fic of my own, because IT WILL HAPPEN, YOU GUYS, and then my carefully-constructed reputation as a writer of shining and ruthless cynicism will be destroyed forever.

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*follows pretty links* Now I have fic to distract me from painting! Heh.
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And with Bela, she is still growing one me. So, hmmm. I am amused by our differing opinions! XD
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I am experimenting with eternal closed loopsFixed now!no subject
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UM. For you...champagne and mortal danger! Go!
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I can't help you with the Booth/Brennan fic, because I've found very little quality stuff. I can tell you that fandom calls the ship "Semperance", which never fails to send me into a blind rage.
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