V's journal

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 19:16:58 GMT

Just finished reading Stephen Fry's "Moab is My Washpot". God, how I love this man.

Totally random due South recs

Sat, 28 Feb 2009 23:40:04 GMT

Turtle Eclipse of the Heart by belmanoir [Awww, so cute!]
Kowalski/Vecchio, PG, 1512 words, first time, post-CotW. Summary: Vecchio decides he has to win over Kowalski's turtle.
Ray wasn't sure why he even tried to date anymore. Maybe he should just give up and figure he'd be godfather to Fraser's kids when Fraser got around to having them. "His turtle hates me too," he confided. "Today when I tried to pick it up, it scratched me so hard I'm still bleeding."

"Perhaps you startled him, Ray. Turtles are quick to feel threatened."

Ray laughed. "Kinda like Kowalski, huh?"

Little Voices by zabira [Mindreading!Fraser. GLEE!]
Fraser/Kowalski, NC-17, 3000 words, first time. Summary: He wants to give Ray the same privacy he gives everyone else, and he doesn't want to, in equal measure. When he's not paying strict attention, his mind will seemingly reach toward his partner.
Normally, he tunes it out. It's just a buzz of meaningless noise in his head, with the occasional crisp pop of a single word or phrase coming to him context-free. When he needs to, he can stretch his not-hearing and catch more of what the people around him are thinking and feeling, but he tries not to do it unless he has to. He doesn't need to know what Huey had for breakfast, what Turnbull is doing on Friday night, how often Welsh's thoughts stray to Francesca, so he just—doesn't listen.

Then there is Ray.

Meeting the Curve by catwalksalone [Funny, sweet and adorable. *hearts*]
Kowalski/Vecchio, PG-13, 1000 words, established relationship, post-CotW.
"Let me get this straight," says Ray, furrowing his brow and staring into the empty beer glass as if it had some magical sense-making powers. "You want us to get married because the Tampa Bay Devil Rays got renamed to the Rays?"

"Yeah," says Kowalski, hunched and barely glancing at Ray from his seat on the next barstool over. "You gotta problem? You think I'm not good enough or something?"

Last Wishes by mojokid [Gentlemanly Fraser at his best. *g*]
Fraser/Kowalski, PG-13, 1458 words, first time. Summary: ‘Fraser, we’re both going to be dead in about five minutes. What does it matter?'
‘Please, Fraser. Just fucking kiss me. We probably don’t have time for anything else, but we can still—’

‘I’m saying no, Ray.’

‘I’m a good kisser! I’m good at everything, I’ve been told, I can get you references—’

‘I can only imagine, Ray. But listen—’

Benton Fraser by mizface [Filk!!! \o/]
Fraser/Kowalski, G, 306 words.
There were two policemen in Chicago town,
In Chicago town there were two
And they did partner with a Mountie and wolf (deaf wolf, half wolf)
This is their story, ‘tis odd but it’s true.

There Are Places in the World Other Than Here by brigantine1 [This! This is the Vecchio I love!]
Kowalski/Vecchio, G, 781 words, pre-slash, post-CotW. Summary: Ray Vecchio has an epiphany or two.
Ray shuts his eyes against the rain. "I was out," he wheezes. "I was warm and toasty in Florida, but I couldn't make it work, I just... So I came back here, and I took back the badge, 'cause it was familiar, you know? It was something I knew I was good at, but now look at me. I'm lying here in the rain on the freaking sidewalk, bleeding all over cold Chicago concrete and ruining a perfectly good mohair coat. What am I, nuts?"

Close, but no Cigar(ette) by mizface [Vegetables! They are good for you! *g*]
Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio, PG, 300 words, established relationship, post-CotW. Prompt: "aubergine".
Vecchio slapped his hands on the table as he sat down. “It’s just a meal, for crissakes!“ He glared. “Some people around here insist on disgusting things like pineapple pizza, but do we complain?”

Backwards by spuffyduds [Yummy and intense!]
Fraser/Vecchio, R, 460 words, first time/established relationship.
Ray was wrong about Fraser.

Not about the "maybe he's not totally straight?" part. Thank God. But back when Ray was just...thinking about it, picturing Fraser (but it was more than a picture, there was imagined sound and imagined smell and Ray touching himself thinking about Fraser touching him)...back then he always figured Fraser would have that control thing going even in bed, would be calm and slow-moving.

Alone, Together by secretlybronte [WOOBIES! OMG, SO GOOD]
Fraser/Kowalski, NC-17, 4000 words, first time, post-CotW, some angst. Summary: Ray can't make it alone and Fraser just keeps calling.
"Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Which maybe I don't even care about. I do not even care about it at all. But it has been ten years since I had somebody. Why don't I get to have somebody, Fraser? What'd I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. Love is... Love is very complicated."

Ray snorted. "You think? 'Cause I think it's pretty goddamn easy." Ray drank the last of his coffee with a shaky hand. "Seems to me you make someone feel special every day and that's supposed to be enough. Only it ain't. And then it's just you and your turtle and then you get a partner and then your partner leaves and your turtle dies and..." Ray stopped and listened for a moment. "Are you typing? Are you typing on the phone with me? I do not think that is polite. I do not think that is the way Canadians are polite, Fraser."

New wank! Kittens vs puppies! Join in! Politely! rolls eyes

Wed, 18 Feb 2009 22:42:10 GMT

Dear due South fandom. Cease this stupid shit immediately. I have chronic depression. You are not helping.

Also, you are way smarter than this. Pairing preferences? Really?

P.S.
You know what makes me want to start a polite bitchfest (not that I'm actually doing it 'cause I'm that awesome and restrained)?

People not reading comms' rules, bad grammar, awful layouts, tiny fonts, read-my-horrible-fic summaries, general stupidity and ignorance.

Now THAT (any of that) is what I call a WORTHY REASON, not some freaking reading preferences.

Gardino slash list

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 16:09:07 GMT

New due South master list:

Louis Gardino fic (slash only)

Currently 20 stories (not counting sequels). Mostly Kowalski/Gardino, but a few other pairings as well.

As always, let me know what I've missed, self pimping is encouraged, etc.

Harry Potter recs

Sat, 17 Jan 2009 22:33:43 GMT

A collection of awesome stories for your reading/rereading enjoyment. I was in the mood for HP today. :)

What Dire Offence by miriam_heddy
Snape/Harry, NC-17, 18600 words, first time. Summary: In which Harry learns how to teach and discovers, along the way, that it's not the size of the desk nor the length of the robe that defines the measure of the man. Post-War Harry/Snape.
It was quite different—viewing it all from the teacher's table. They were all so very loud that he suddenly felt a small bit of empathy for Snape, because there were no spells one could safely perform to quiet them down, and though he could mute his own hearing, he certainly couldn't do it all the time or he wouldn't be able to hear their seemingly endless questions, most of which he found himself answering with, "Hang on. We'll get to that later, after we've covered the basics."

The voice in his head that added, "Assuming you dunderheads manage to master them, which I highly doubt" sounded awfully familiar, and it was only with some effort that he kept them from slipping out of his own traitorous mouth. Not that the children would have heard him over the shifting in their seats and the rustling of parchment and the scratching of doodling quills—was that supposed to be him with the owl-wings attached to his head? The upside-down drawing winked at him from the front row and he sighed heavily. How many points was that one worth?

To Keep Calendars in the Absence of Time by r_grayjoy
Snape/Lupin, NC-17, 17350 words, first time. Summary: Severus finds that there can be many reasons to keep track of the days, even in a place where time has no meaning.
There was no question about it, then. This was not the "real" Spinner's End, and Severus was most decidedly deceased. The latter was not terribly surprising, all in all. Although he might have hoped for a better end than messy death via the Dark Lord's pet snake, Severus had never truly expected to survive the war. He was also somehow not surprised that no one had shown up to welcome him to the afterlife. In fact, he had seen no evidence of another person yet at all. The street was still, and no sound disturbed the scene save the chirping of birds and the occasional crick of insects.

Beginning to feel ridiculous standing out on the worn cobblestones and waiting for something to happen, Severus moved towards the last house on the row out of old habit. Turning the knob, he found the front door unlocked. With a push, the door swung inward, scraping the floor near the end of its arc as it had begun to do in recent years. Severus reached into his robes and was relieved to discover that he still had his wand. He didn't know whether magic worked here, or whether he could even be harmed, but the length of wood in his grip was reassuring nonetheless. Wand in hand, Severus stepped through the door.

How to Circumvent a Fidelius Charm by florahart
Albus Severus/Severus Snape, NC-17, 7450 words, first time. Warning(s): I assume there's no need to warn for age difference--this is set seven-plus years post-epilogue. Summary: Albus Severus wants to meet (and, uh, enjoy) a hero he's heard of all his life. Severus wants to remain in hiding. Albus Severus, however, is persistent.
"It would be idiotic of me to write letters to your father," Severus pointed out. "The reason you had to work to find me is that I am a recluse. Do you know the word? It means I live away from people. In hiding. Not wanting to be found. I enjoy my solitude, you see, and don't need irritating teenagers in my home."

"Course I know the word; I'm not an idiot. I make no promises as to whether I'm irritating. Anyway, yes, I see your point, but what I got instead was better. Mystery bills, you know. And, I mean, he could have just been fucking around on Mum, keeping some bird set up somewhere, but it made more sense that he'd not have two enormous secrets. Because honestly, Mum's mind is painfully easy to poke about in--"

"You're a Legilimens?"

"Sure. Dad taught me. Not that hard, once you get the knack. You know that. Anyway, Mum didn't know. She doesn't know that Dad knows where you are, either, exactly--I mean, she has this idea, but I think he doesn't really want her to realize he actually keeps you. So, either he had two secrets, you and a mistress, or the mystery bills were you. Unless you are his mistress. So to speak."

Severus blinked several times. "You're quite cavalier about the notion of your father running around behind your mother's back. And no, I am not his …paramour."

A Matter of Size by swtalmnd
Snape/Harry, NC-17, 5252 words, first time. Warnings: AU, Crack, Chan (16), voyeurism. Summary: Harry has a small boy's fascination for big things.
After that, even the memory of Bill didn't have the same appeal as it had once held, as if some of the shine had been worn off by his own anticipation of a new image to take its place. He still wanked, of course, but not as often or as satisfyingly. So much so that by the time the Order's plans went into effect Harry was a little ball of confused teenage lust and not much else.

That must have been why, instead of the distraction spell he was supposed to cast after killing Voldemort, he Banished everyone's clothing.

His own remained intact, of course, because even accidental magic couldn't overcome Harry's deep-seated fear of having people see his inadequacies, but everywhere around him there was naked flesh. Those closest had even been knocked onto their arses and Snape in particular looked quite put out to be in such an ignominious position. Harry's eyes made the inevitable journey from Snape's prominent nose, down past hairy nipples, a concave stomach and jutting hipbones, and straight to Snape's package.

Snape's huge, beautiful package.

By the Book by sarcasticpixie
Albus Severus/Scorpius, PG-13, 12200 words, first time. Warning(s): Teenage erections, rampant faux-Briticisms, casual alcoholism, and an ice sculpture that may not be suitable for children. Summary: Scorpius Malfoy was thirteen when his parents divorced. He’d always known it would happen someday, but he didn’t expect it to be so bloody loud.
Scorpius likes to compare the people in his life to his favorite literary characters, because not only are those characters as real to him as his family and friends are, he can put them away when he wants time to himself. His father is Dickens’ Charles Darnay, of course, with a bit of Bronte’s Heathcliff thrown in for good measure. He loves his grandmother, but she’s Scarlett O’Hara down to the bone. Mother has been and always will be Becky Sharp. Rosie could never be anyone other than Elizabeth Bennet, and her brother, the round and doddering Hugo, is a perfect Mr. Collins.

He’s known Al Potter for going on six years, but somewhat incredibly, he’s never been able to find a suitable character for him.

He finds this deeply distressing.

Also distressing is the way Al has looked ever since they returned from the summer holidays. He’s always been a thin, pale boy, but as he closes the heavy door behind him and comes to sit next to Rose, Scorpius is struck by exactly how translucent he seems. He’s pulled the hood of his crimson Gryffindor sweatshirt over his head, and in the firelight, he looks like nothing so much as an extremely overanxious monk.

An Eye for an Eye by arsenicjade
Snape/Draco/Harry, NC-17, 45309 words, first time S/D/H, established relationship S/D. Summary: Harry owes Draco a Life Debt.
Harry knew he'd hit on the key to something, he just wasn't sure what it was. "Are you ill?"

"Do I look ill, Potter?" Malfoy glared.

Harry glared right back. Malfoy gave in first. "They're not for me."

"Then seeing as how my Life Debt is to you, this is really none of my business, is it?"

"Damn you, Potter." Malfoy's words were barely able to make it past the tensing of his lips. Harry thought there might have been tears at the corner of his eyes, but Malfoy had turned his head slightly as if to hide his face. "Shall I beg? Shall I beg for his life? Because despite the fact that all you have ever known is school-era sweethearts and a couple of short-lived affairs of the heart" he sneered the words at Harry, "some of us know what it means to live and die for another. If you think his life is not in anyway connected with mine, then you're a fool."

"You've always believed that."

"I was hoping, desperately, that you would prove me wrong." Malfoy visibly composed himself and looked at Harry. His features were somehow blank and embittered all at once. "Please," he begged, "if the debt means anything to you, please."

Harry wondered why he'd ever thought hearing Draco Malfoy beg would make him smile. "Take back that thing about my love life."

"For the love of- Your love life is exactly what any healthy British wizard's, aged 29, should be. Now will you help?"

A Choriambic Progression by cimmerians
Snape/Harry, NC-17, 92000 words, first time. Warning: please note that within the confines of this story, while Harry has indeed reached the age of consent, he has not yet reached his majority, and yet he's fooling around. Kids today! Summary: Harry learns a lot over the summer. Smut happens. It's all terribly exciting.
"She cursed you too?"

An eyebrow rose, no less daunting for the dried blood crusted in it. "No, you idiot--she cursed you. You deflected it--directly onto me. Remind me to thank you for that later."

Oh. "So... you're cursed?"

"Yes," Snape hissed peevishly.

Harry looked him over. "What kind of curse?"

Snape looked away from him. "I don't know."

Harry paused, trying to recollect whether he'd ever heard Snape say those words before. No, he didn't think he had. But he had no time to relish such a novel experience, as Snape turned back to him, and spoke as if he grudged the words. "It felt... old. Ancient. And it certainly wasn't pleasant."

No. Harry could believe that much, as he'd endured the initial parts of it. "She said... there was something about not having a merciful death."

Snape glared at him. "Well, we'll have to be on the alert for signs of me dropping dead from your incessant, infernal nattering, then--I believe that would fulfill the requisite conditions quite nicely."

Apparently Snape didn't want to talk about it. Harry shrugged. "So... what do we do now?"

due South recs: rentboys ahoy!

Thu, 15 Jan 2009 20:26:53 GMT

You know what brings JOY into my world (and yours, hopefully *g*)? HOOKER!AUs!!! \o/ Cracky or serious, funny or angsty - they are JOYOUS!

So here, have some recs:

Two For the Money by riadsala
Fraser/Kowalski, NC-17, 1212 words, AU, first time. Summary: Ray and Ben are two hookers who’ve been hired to perform for a john. Written, if you can believe it, for the hooker au prompt at stop_drop_porn.
“Wait, you want us to what?” Ray glanced at Ben beside him and then back at the john.

“I told you. You, fuck him.” The portly gentleman indicated first Ray then Ben. Ray huffed and scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s just that when guys hire two hookers-“

“Escorts, Ray.” Ray rolled his eyes. Fucking Ben, he was like the Dudley Do-Right of hookers.

Something Forgets Us Perfectly by nos4a2no9
Fraser/Smithbauer, NC-17, 4481 words, AU, angst. A/N: This piece is sort of a self-contained prequel to the Rentboy AU, a due South story I've been working on for about a year and a half. It seems that believably turning Constable Benton Fraser into a male prostitute is tough--who knew? and I wrote this short scene between Fraser and a client to try and wrap my head around the concept. I hope to be finished the Rentboy AU by early summer (hopefully I'll have a better title by then), so this will give you a taste of what I've got planned. Sex and angst, basically.
The request for his company came down the whisper-stream of desk clerks and taxi drivers and hotel bellboys. His services were never in high demand, caught as he was in the negative space between the street hustlers on Halstead and the escort services that rented whole floors in the skyscrapers along Dearborn Avenue. Unorthodox though it was, his network of contacts was successful and on Thursday evening at seven oclock Benton Fraser had a client.

The hotel itself was familiar in its dry, dusty shabbiness. He knew of several very much like it scattered throughout Chicago. The hallways smelled of mold and dry rot, and the dusty orange carpeting that coated the lobby floor was badly ripped and stained. The first time hed been here with a client Fraser had apologized for the condition of the rooms, but the man had simply shrugged, stripped and pushed Fraser to his knees. That had happened years ago and this time, Fraser decided, any explanations or excuses would probably be unwarranted. Whoever had summoned him here would have few illusions worth preserving.

The Two Gentlemen of Chicago (AKA Scenes From A Cheesy Porn Film) by bjohan57
Fraser/Kowalski, NC-17, 2566 words, AU, first time, humour. A/N: AU…very AU for one of them. This comes under the warning of “cheap and cheerful” fiction.
He was now on his fourth glass. Triple shots. Ray felt pretty and witty and…bright.

It had been exactly 35 minutes since he rang the Waterfall escort agency using the number he found in the vandalised phone-box, and spoke to a smooth-voiced lady, identified as “Crystal”:
“Uh, yeah, do you do hookers?”
“We supply professional escorts, sir. Would you like to hire one for the hour?”
“Yeah, I mean uh...yeah.”
“Do you have a physical preference?”
“Not blonde, absolutely, positively no-one blonde. And big. Yeah, tall and not blonde. Someone who isn’t Stella, ok? The exact opposite of my ex-wife.”

Louis of the Night by china_shop
Kowalski/Gardino, NC-17, 1650 words, AU, first time.
But it was what it was and he was what he was, and he was where he was, which was the backstreets of Boystown on a quiet Tuesday night. On a mission. Top secret -- just like going undercover, he told himself, not that he'd ever done that yet. But one day. Sam had said one day he'd make detective, get out of the damned uniform and be somebody. For now, he still had something to prove, and that something was here, end of the alley, two flights up.

He'd overheard a couple of guys in Vice joking about this place, saying it was stuck in the seventies and weirdly un-skeevy despite that. Ray threw his shoulders back, cracked his neck, and figured what the hell. Had to find out sooner or later if he really was wired this way.

Identikit: the Musical! by bethbethbeth
Fraser/Kowalski, PG-13, 850 words, AU, first time, humour. Written for the ds_flashfiction Badfic challenge. Prompt: Ray Kowalski has punk rock in his SOUL...but hard times mean he has to moonlight as a hooker. When he's caught up in a vice crackdown, he thinks the dream is over. But if Detective Fraser has anything to say about it, things are just beginning... AU, NC-17 for sex and eyeliner and MAJOR angst. (Watch out for Dief in a special cameo!!).
(The curtain rises and we see Detectives Huey and Dewey booking Canadian punk sensation Ray Kowalski. The two cops taunt him)

Huey and Dewey:
All you'll get is a cell somewhere
Rock-hard mattress with bedbugs there
No belt, no bail, who'll care?
Oh, won't it all be loverly?

Not much food (good or bad) to eat
Big bad cellmates providing "heat"
You'll learn to watch...your seat
Oh, won't it all be loverly? [2]

~~~

Aaaand ... a bonus! Pornstar!RayK AU! [Yes, I know pornstars =/= hookers. Seriously, I know. Just, come on. PORNSTAR!RAYK. \o/ Can you blame me for reccing it here? *g*]

Red and Blue and short sequel by shoemaster
Fraser/Kowalski, NC-17, 1300 words, AU, first time.
Ray had done the Mountie thing once a few years back. Of course, he hadn’t been allowed to wear a real uniform; it was hard to get the RCMP to approve the use of their dress reds for use in a blue movie. His had different buttons and that kinky strap thing was on the opposite side. It hadn’t really mattered; it wasn’t like he wore the thing for very long.

He’d looked pretty good though, just not as good as Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. “I’m terribly sorry to say that it was one of your producers, Mr. Brandauer, that kidnapped your colleagues. He was attempting to coerce them into, ah-” Fraser flushed.

“I get the idea, Red.”

~~~

Many happy (re)readings, have fun and spread more joy! :)

ETA: Also, I have a cuddly polar bear! \o/ Thank you, dear anonymous!

House M.D. recs

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 22:01:09 GMT

For some reason I was craving House/Wilson these past several days. And since trying to find good new House fic is like looking for a needle in a haystack* (seriously, House fandom, why so many badfic? And where is my porn? *hides*) I went and reread some of my long-time favourites.

180 Degrees by movies_michelle
House/Wilson, NC-17, 6930 words, first time. Summary: Remember to always turn into the spin.
House hated Wilson at that moment. There he was, sprawled on the other side of the couch watching this stupid horror movie, relaxed, drunk, and more appealing than anyone had a right to be. House intensely wished he were the kind of person who would take advantage of a drunken friend. In fact, he'd always thought he was that kind of person.

When House Met Wilson by rageprufrock
House/Wilson, R, 970 words. Summary: Truth is a relative thing.
House tells Cameron he met Wilson at a Doctors Without Borders interest meeting. He was there to steal the food—his own conference being two floors overhead in the same hotel—and Wilson was there to gather into his chest great heaps of pamphlets, wander around bright-eyed about saving babies with distended stomachs in the war zones of Sudan and Somalia.

Acceptable Terms by rubberbutton
House/Wilson, PG-13, 2300 words, first time. Summary: So...why does House ruin all of Wilson’s relationships?
Wilson nodded once. “Yeah, but here’s the thing—the reason she’s changed her mind? Apparently someone wrote her a letter outlining my history of infidelities and explaining what a cad I am. Can you just believe that?” His eyes narrowed into a blistering glare and he dug out a folded sheet of yellow legal pad paper from his pocket.

Some By Virtue Fall by nestra
House/Wilson, R, 1274 words, established relationship. Summary: "But experience had taught him that nothing lasted forever, especially nothing good."
In defiance of everything House had ever experienced in his life, sex with Wilson actually did get better each time, from the first hurried groping to the first time Wilson had clambered on top of him. But experience had taught him that nothing lasted forever, especially nothing good, and from the way his leg was starting to shake, it seemed like the time had come. At least Wilson hadn't noticed anything yet, lost in his own world of quiet moans, and part of House was proud of the fact that he could make Wilson stop thinking like a doctor and just be a selfish bastard.

Things To Do Before You Die by thedeadparrot
House/Wilson, PG-13, 1682 words, first time. Summary: In which Wilson turns thirty-eight and a half, thinks about kittens, and doesn't have a midlife crisis. But not necessarily in that order.
House takes a moment to smirk, and Wilson's wondering if he should start investing in underground bunkers in East Europe, because that's House's "I totally have a plan, and you're going to hate it" smirk. Wilson is kind of terrified by that smirk. "Well, seeing as it's your thirty-eight and a half birthday, I thought you might want to go through your list. Get started on your midlife crisis."

Bananas, Red Meat and Clorox by ticcyyy
House/Wilson, NC-17, 2100 words, established relationship. Summary: House threw the door to Wilson’s office open, and it would’ve been a random, intrusive visit like any other if it wasn’t for the plastic bag House was holding in his hand.
He felt the bed shift again as Wilson slumped back against the pillow with a sigh. “You really should’ve stuck with the non-relationship talk. Way less of a mood killer than you telling me my semen tastes like livestock.”

House tsked and turned his head, opening his eyes to look at Wilson. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

All the Effects of Intoxication by agentotter
House/Wilson, PG-13, 2985 words, established relationship (sort of), a bit of angst. Summary: When Wilson crawls out of bed in the morning, there's a technicolor hickey over the point of his hip, and he moves gingerly, trying not to jostle his hangover.
This only happens when they're drunk, so far gone from sane and sober that just stumbling out of the cab and up the front walk takes serious effort. Wilson gets really happy when he's plastered, and House gets so mellow he's practically unconscious, and every movement they make is clumsy, fumbling, thick.

Strawberries by elicia8
House/Wilson, R, 4207 words, first time. Summary: House and Wilson go strawberry picking!
Wilson checks his mirrors and pulls away from the curb. "It's an important conference," he says once we're moving. "Cuddy asked for a favor. I don't mind."

"You say that now. Wait until you meet her bondage collection." I adjust the volume on the stereo until it's flirting with annoying. "And you're wrong. It's not an important conference."

"It's Cushing's. It's her field."

"It's the Ugly Disease. Cuddy's there to represent."

Best-Kept Secrets by ticcyyy
House/Wilson, NC-17, 3900 words, established relationship. Summary: House has a lot of secrets. Wilson is one of them.
Sometimes, House likes it best when Wilson fucks him. In fact, he likes it most when Wilson fucks him, always. He feels strangely safest when he surrenders to Wilson. Cocooned, surrounded, consumed. He likes it when Wilson is all around him, above him, in him, everywhere. It's the kind of slow burning numbness that whiskey brings, or Vicodin. A kind of stillness. A place of complete calm. Belonging.

Distancing by astolat
House/Wilson, R, 1763 words, first time/established reationship. Summary: For now, House is fine with enjoying the view.
It would be almost trivially easy to have him. Get him into a cab, take him home, spread him out on the couch and grope him a couple times through those jeans, and House is pretty sure Wilson would roll over for him. If there's anything Wilson can't resist even under normal circumstances, it's someone who wants him. The trick would be keeping him.

* at least if it's not your main fandom

A bunch of Yuletide recs

Wed, 31 Dec 2008 12:17:25 GMT

All list-like, without any comments, 'cause I'm lazy. Or busy. Something like that. Anyway, here are 24 fantastic stories. They are all very much glee-worthy and I loved them dearly. Yay! :)

Die Hard 4.5 : I'll Be Hard for Christmas
Die Hard 4, McClane/Farrell, NC-17, 15277 words, first time. Summary: Subcommittee bingo, flashbulb gauntlets, and gay sex scandals - oh, there's no place like Capitol Hill for the holidays!
He'd always meant to get together a new plan, one besides "be in wrong place on wrong day at wrong time, save everyone, go on tv, impress ex-family." He'd just never gotten around to it. At least Plan A always worked for a while; but the overhead was a real bitch. This time around, he had no chance at forming a plan at all. The media was everywhere, all over him.

Not With a Bang But a Whimper
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Harry/Perry, NC-17, 7692 words, first time. Summary: Destiny doesn't always go the way you expect.
Harmony told me that we needed to talk. I figured I'd done something stupid like forgetting an anniversary, but no. Instead she sat me down and confessed that she was this thing called `polyamorous'. I thought she was telling me she had some kind of disease, and I got all upset and held her hand and promised that I'd love her no matter what. And then she finally explained what she meant, and...yeah, I didn't take that so well. See Harry; see Harry's psychotic break. Break, Harry, break!

Suburban Decay
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, gen, Harry, Perry, PG-13, 3570 words.
Now, if Harry was in charge, this is where he'd be jumping around the place in the narrative, getting all mixed up, telling you about how we wound up in a parking garage, with a bunch of zombies after us, instead of concentrating on whatever larcenous activity he was supposed to be undertaking. I'm more disciplined than Harry, which is not difficult. Your average toddler is more disciplined than Harry.

Training Day
Hot Fuzz, Nicholas/Danny, R, 1282 words, established relationship. Summary: Nicholas didn't expect weapons training to be an exercise in frustration.
"Weren't you the one who told us we've got to be more professional around the station?" Wainwright continued. "I don't think having Sgt. Butterball demonstrate your weapon servicing technique falls under condoned station behaviour or appropriate topics of conversation. Says so right there in that manual you wrote, don't it?"

And This Time I'll Remember
Hot Fuzz, Nicholas/Danny, PG, 2858 words, first time. Summary: Nicholas Angel knew it was going to be a bad day when he woke up on Christmas Eve face-to-face with a dead body.
"Shit," said Nicholas, and went from sitting down to standing without any of the bits between. This was probably a metaphor for Nicholas Angel's life right now, because as far as he knew he'd gone from pub-with-Danny to waking-up-next-to-dead-body without any in-between bits. "Shit," Nicholas said again for good measure, and took a look around.

Tokens of Affection
Hot Fuzz, Nicholas/Danny, R, 12608 words, first time. Summary: It seemed to Nicholas that there had always been an element of answering-back in the gifts that he and Danny gave each other.
What was worse, between the increased tensions and petty vandalism that came along with the holiday season and getting the finishing touches on the new police station in order, Nicholas severely doubted he'd have time for a proper shopping run to Buford Abbey. He feared that if he even so much as let on that he had plans in that direction, Danny would want to come along. And if Nicholas knew anything about himself by now, it was that he could deny Danny nothing.

Rebuilding
Wilby Wonderful, Duck/Dan, PG, 1133 words, established relationship.
When Dan and Duck moved in together, about half a week after Dan was released from the hospital, Dan didn't realize that it would essentially be the two of them and the whole town. People don't talk - at least, not to their faces - so that's not the thing. And it's not that their friends [...]

bodies in motion
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, PG-13, 1656 words, established relationship.
The first day is easy. It's packing and unpacking boxes, shifting furniture; hard work pure and simple. It's keeping Cody entertained on the trip to L.A. until Zach switches off driving with Shaun halfway there. They're both tired -- more like exhausted -- emotionally, from fielding Cody's questions about Jeanne, about Poppy, and physically, because Zach's not even sure how he came to have so much shit.

Laying In
Shelter, Zach/Shaun, R, 4518 words, established relationship. Summary: Family, too, is an act of creation. It takes time.
At Thanksgiving, Cody is asked to draw his family in kindergarten. He draws himself in the middle, the way kids do. Then Zach and Shaun on either side, holding his hands. He draws the dog he keeps asking for, because he's a smart kid. Then Gabe, close, and Dad farther, and Jeanne farther still.

Fanfare, Fan Fiction, and the Fourth Wall
Boston Legal, gen, Alan, Denny, PG-13, 3574 words. Summary: Alan defends a fan fiction writer sued for copyright infringement, and Denny learns about slash.
"They're girls, that's what," Denny said. "There are sexy stories on here about girls." / "Oh yeah," Audrey said, nodding. "That's called femmeslash. Not as popular, but..." / "People want to get rid of this?" Denny shook his head. "These stories must be protected! Take her case, Alan. We're talking about the first amendment here!"

Backwards and Wearing High Heels
Boston Legal, Alan/Denny, PG-13, 1202 words. Summary: "Anything Denny Crane can do, I can do backwards and wearing high heels."
"She's magnificent," Denny confided. "Like an amazon. She's tall," he added in that weirdly reverent way he had for the oddest quirks of human anatomy. If Denny was anything, it was an equal opportunity lecher. "And the jugs on her," he went on, cupping the air with his hands.

Little Miss Curious
Little Miss Sunshine, gen, Olive, OC, PG, 406 words. Summary: Here's Olive!
"A homophobe, Olive," Mr Bingle said with all the dignity he could muster, "is a person who has an irrational dislike of homosexuals. A homosexual," Mr Bingle said hurriedly in anticipation of Olive's next question, "is a man who likes men, and there's nothing wrong with that!"

Before You Understand
Little Miss Sunshine, gen-ish, Olive, subtle Frank/Richard, PG, 1166 words. Summary: Olive thinks Uncle Frank is weird, but the okay kind of weird.
Uncle Frank is weird, but he's the okay kind of weird. Not fun weird, like Pop Rocks, but okay weird, like Necco wafers. Or Dad's jazz. Dwayne says that's why he's staying with you for a while, "because he's found his own kind." You ask Mom what that means and she doesn't say anything. According to her, Uncle Frank needs some time to get back on his feet, but you know that can't be it. He can walk just fine.

Nine Steps in a Circle
Little Miss Sunshine, gen, Frank, Dwayne, PG-13, 5716 words. Summary: Frank and Dwayne try to figure out what comes next.
"No! Just, fuck!" Dwayne yelled, slamming the bedroom door. Frank tried to stay very still, but he'd probably jumped a little and he dropped his book. "Sorry," Dwayne said to him and, sitting down on his bed and pushing his hands back through his hair, added, "Fuck!" / "Would you like me to go somewhere else?" Frank asked. / "No." Dwayne lay down and stared at the ceiling. Frank tried to relax in his own bed, but [...]

breathlessly
Billy Elliot, Billy/Michael, G, 884 words. Summary: Billy and Michael may or may not run into each other in the middle of a street on a rainy day.
There is a chance this never happens, because later, later, later, in that next life, the one that comes after this, Billy has black and white paint on his hands, a forgotten lick along his jawbone, and Michael is holding a bouquet of flowers in his slightly trembling hands, smiling in a manner that's almost painful.

Paradise Lost
LOLcats, Basement Cat/Cheezburger Cat, Ceiling Cat, NC-17, 971 words. Summary: Being the story of one BASEMENT CAT, in which, through many travails and desperations, he attains his true desire. Warnings: exhibitionism, voyeurism, bdsm, topping from the bottom, rimming, whisker play, virgin-kink, hastily-researched feline homosexual practices.
It was the fifth of December, in the year of Ceiling Cat 18--, when a complete and most distressing melancholy swept over Basement Cat; his basement all at once too dark and close, the heat of the dryer oppressive and fetid.

Mission Report
3rd Rock from the Sun, Sally/Mary, PG, 982 words. Summary: The aliens discover Sexual Experimentation.
Report # (not sure, Tommy will tell you) for the Big Giant Head
Mission: Earth
Submitted by: Sally Solomon
Re: Lesbian Experimentation

And do the other things
3rd Rock from the Sun, Tommy, other characters, PG, 4277 words. Summary: Tommy is not from Mars; Tommy is also not from Venus.
The Information Officer filed his packet for retirement like two tube-weeks after the crew returned to Homeworld. Maybe less. Anyway it was a record turnaround. "I'm gonna build a little house, maybe on Lake Rutherford," he mused, cooing at the tiny pink hybrid Eric Travis and smooching him with all his purple tubules. "Make my own furniture, grill in the backyard, watch professional tetherball, you know, American dream." In reality, he missed his girlfriend.

Incalzando
Sherlock Holmes, Holmes/Watson, PG, 1044 words, some angst. Summary: On the anniversary of Mary's death, Holmes reflects on his relationship with Watson.
Another two hours. He doesn't need to see the clock; the waiting is etched in his bones and the angle of the sun on his face. Two hours until he has his Watson back in the flat. Two days, based on prior habit, until he has him back from the graveyard. Back from her.

Pursuit
The Fast and The Furious, Brian/Dom, PG-13, 11306 words, pre-slash.
Brian leaned against the wall and watched the passing cars. The wall was fucking uncomfortable and so were the pants, but the cars were sometimes hot enough to distract him - the occasional Apollo-modified Audi or tricked-out Impala made up for all the off-the-lot Lexuses, the Beemers, the yuppiemobiles driven by assholes looking for some cock to suck before they raced home to their Mrs. Asshole and 2.5 Assholes in Training.

The Birthday Party
Blackadder, series 2, gen, Blackadder, Queenie (Princess at the time), Baldrick, Percy, Melchett, PG, 4375 words. Summary: Twelve-year-old Edmund Blackadder dreads attending Lady Elizabeth's birthday party, but it turns out to be an interesting day indeed.
Edmund sighed again. "No, Baldrick. Lady Elizabeth is a princess, even if they don't call her that, and she chops people's heads off when they give her presents she doesn't like. Besides, she's a girl. Why would I want to go to a girl's party?" Edmund's lip curled, and he watched the apple peel fall onto the table in a spiral, then sliced the fruit into quarters.

Radished
Blackadder, series 3, gen, Blackadder, Baldrick, Prince George, PG-13, 2633 words. Summary: This is an imaginary epilogue to the events of "Amy and Amiability', in which, if you recall, Edmund Blackadder succeeded in collecting a £10,000 reward for the capture of Miss Amy Hardwood, also known as The Shadow. Of course he then immediately lost it to his idiotic employer Prince George.
Blackadder: [strikes him] No, it is not the same thing, really. I swindled him fair and square. Morally, in every sense that counts, that money is mine. Which is why, Baldrick, it is perfectly proper and right that we should have stolen these two fancy dress outfits and stupid hats, and that we should waylay his Royal Highness here on High Wycombe Heath and relieve him of that £10,000.

The Aunt and the Ankh
Jeeves & Wooster, gen-ish, Jeeves, Wooster, a hint of Jeeves/Wooster, PG, 5194 words. Summary: "It would seem that Miss Bassett has her heart set on an Egyptian-themed wedding." / "Will this involve everyone wrapping themselves in gossamer drapes and clasping asps to ye olde bosom?" / "I fear so, sir."
I assure you it was not in my plans to find myself, on the night of Madeline Bassett's wedding to the abominable Spode (round two), dressed in a skirt and clinging to the wall outside the window of her nuptial chamber of bliss. Had I been given the choice, I would have greatly preferred to be in the deepest jungles of Borneo, but alas, circumstances did not permit such luxury.

Jeeves and the Christmas Spirit, or, Turkey in the Offing
Jeeves & Wooster, gen, Jeeves, Wooster, G, 3002 words. Summary: Christmas at Brinkley Court. What could go wrong?
"I merely wished to suggest that Christmas might be more pleasant if we remained here rather than travelling to a house-party, sir. There is much to recommend the capital in the festive season. Moreover, I believe the party at Brinkley Court is to be large and, if I might speak frankly, sir, M. Anatole does not enjoy cooking Christmas dinner."

More dSSS recs

Fri, 26 Dec 2008 21:49:22 GMT

Reconstruction [Perfect Fraser voice. Seriously. PERFECT.]
Fraser/Vecchio, R?, 9600 words, first time.
"Fraser, I took three weeks off work, and we're gonna rebuild that damn cabin if it's the last thing we do, so pack up your rucksack and the mutt and let's go," Ray had said, and we had. Of course, it wasn't quite that simple. I did have a fairly serious head wound and a fortunately much less serious concussion, which nonetheless required a night's observation in the nearest hospital. After that [...]

Cooperation (Now with Added Mountie) [Yay! My favourite kind of Ray banter! Snarky and funny. \o/]
Gen-ish, Vecchio/Stella, implied Fraser/Kowalski, PG?, 2850 words, established relationship, post-CotW (in Chicago).
"Yeah, well, I don't see anyone offering 'cept me, and anyway, I got experience." Kowalski leaned forward a fraction, making his chair wobble dangerously. Ray made a mental note to requisition a real desk chair with actual wheels on it before Kowalski killed himself. Not that Ray cared, mind you; he just figured that the paperwork on that kind of thing would be a real bitch.

Prepping for Adventure [So much SQUEE. OT3 on the quest! Rays bonding! Sneaky Fraser! *cuddles fic*]
Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio, Kowalski/Vecchio, R?, 4700 words, first time, post-CotW.
Ray tries screaming "Benny" and the wind whips it away, and then he tries yelling "Kowalski" and the wind stuffs it back down his throat. And everything's white everywhere, he can't even tell anymore which direction the snow's blowing, it's just solid white. He's gonna die, he's gonna die, and it's so not fair because, looking back on it, he's made a lot of decisions that ought to have gotten him killed.

Again, This Time [Gorgeous, beautifully written story. Oh, Fraser! *pets him*]
Fraser/Kowalski, NC-17, 2600 words, first time, a bit of angst.
"I love you," Ray says during the commercial break, halfway through the Leafs game he knows Fraser has been looking forward to for weeks. There's even bark tea and a pineapple-free pizza. It might not be the stuff of great romance, but Ray figures all this stuff is as close to romance as the Mountie would ever get, so when he guesses the moment's right, he takes a deep breath and just says it.

A Half-Wolf's Christmas in Chicago (Five Things Diefenbaker Likes About Christmas) [This one? I ADORE. Awesome Dief!fic. \o/]
Gen-ish, Dief, Fraser/Kowalski, G?, 1400 words.
Christmas in Chicago is too much peppermint and fake pine scent (Dief almost believes that Benton's nose suffers as much as his own) and, sometimes, trees that look real but aren't. Those make Dief sneeze the worst.

Christmas Away From Home [Fraser, Ray and their adult daughter. Great future fic.]
Fraser/Kowalski, PG?, 5150 words, established relationship, kid!fic, post-CotW, a bit of angst.
Fraser could tell by the set of Ray's shoulders that he knew Fraser was there, but it appeared he was out of the sightline of the camera by the way Margaret went on, confiding and unselfconscious, "It's like Depot. Half the time I was there I was just trying to do well enough that nobody would, I don't know, find me out. I always felt like I was there under false pretenses."

dSSS recs

Thu, 25 Dec 2008 23:52:16 GMT

Sleeping is Believing [BOYS!!! Snarky, cute, insecure boys! *smishes them together*]
Kowalski/Vecchio, PG-13?, 4200 words, first time.
He stopped at the foot of the bed and studied Kowalski. His hand was curled loosely on the hospital blanket, middle finger slightly extended. Yeah, even unconscious, Kowalski was giving the finger to the whole world. And even unconscious, he radiated energy. If it weren't for the dressing on his temple and the oxygen tube across his upper lip, Ray might've thought he was faking it.

Experimental Share [Guh. Mmmm, rimming. Hot like burning! *flails*]
Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio, NC-17, 1900 words, established relationship, post-CotW.
Jesus, it was good, so good. Ray had never felt anything like it--more intimate even than being fucked, and with Benny holding him down he couldn't move the way he wanted to, so everything Kowalski was making him feel ricocheted around in him like he was a pinball machine and just built and built.

(if) this is feeling merry [Domesticity! Baking cookies! Adorable Vecchio! Sweeeet.]
Fraser/Kowalski/Vecchio, PG-13?, 1150 words, established relationship, humour, post-CotW.
Someone had to step in and be the Grinch, right? So when he walked into Fraser's apartment one day and saw him and Kowalski kissing - yes, under some damn mistletoe - he may have overreacted. "Seriously? I've been out in the cold for hours, trying to find a guy who held up the Dollar Store with a candy gun - without either of my partners, by the way - and you two are up here making out without me!?"

Outcast [Whimsy AU. Fascinatingly interesting. *wants MOAR!*]
Gen, Vecchio, Kowalski, PG?, 1100 words, AU, a bit of angst.
I'd stay somewhere else if I could -- God, would I ever -- but it's not like I can get a normal job anymore. Chicago PD took one look at my lifestyle and said thanks, but no thanks, we don't hire your kind. Like I'm some kind of leper or something. I tried to get the ACLU to take my case, but they're too busy with traditional minorities to bother with me. The night I told Kowalski that, I thought he'd blow a gasket.

pull a breath like another cigarette [So much love for this. Awesome RayK voice. And guys, they are playing a game of crossdressing chicken. With EYELINER. *hearts*]
Fraser/Kowalski, R?, 2450 words, first time.
And that was it for Ray's fantasies about Fraser in eyeliner. He didn't even bring it up, because Fraser obviously didn't want anyone to know and he was so freaked out about the thought of Ray wearing it that he couldn't even talk about it later, just went on like it never happened and they were fine, two regular guys watching hockey and eating pizza who just happened to both like Clinique better than Cover Girl but who didn't, under any circumstances, talk about it.

New master list: dS/dS6D crossovers

Tue, 23 Sep 2008 19:52:37 GMT

This list's been (mostly) ready for over 3 months, but, seeing as my life sucks, I'm just now making it public. Had a couple of hours to finally finish it this weekend and here we go, new due South master list:

dS crossovers with dS6Degrees fandoms (slash, gen, het)

Currently 48 stories (not counting sequels) in 13 crossover fandoms.

What you'll find there: crossovers between due South and dS6D fandoms. Note that it’s due South Six Degrees, not Canadian Six Degrees. Basically it means that I’m restricting the list of crossover fandoms to those featuring actors who played the main roles in due South series (PG, CKR, DM). 'Cause, hello, I'm only human.

Frankly, I'm uncomfortable posting this new list when all the other ones haven't been updated for god knows how long... But I figure better now than never, right? :)

ETA: I usually try to read, if I haven't already, most of the stories while list compiling and to leave some feedback to the authors. At least a couple of words, 'cause I think it's kind of rude to read and not to comment if you liked the fic. But this time around I wasn't so good with feedback, for different reasons. For that, I'm sorry. Guys, if your fic is on the list and the words "have not read" aren't attached, it means that most likely I loved your story to bits. Llassah, Tara (omg, that bsg thing!), Nos, all the rest of you my pretties, YOU ROCK! The level of writing in this fandom always astonishes me.

This post is brought to you by depression, exhaustion and my stupid uterus

Fri, 19 Sep 2008 23:46:23 GMT

Hello, f-list. This is one of those "I'm not dead yet" posts. Just thought I'd let you know. :)

I last posted over 2 months ago, but I'm not completely out of the loop. I still scroll through my flist from time to time and bookmark stuff, I just don't have time to read any of it. Which is SAD AND AWFUL. And don't even get me started on DS_Match_2. *cries*

What else, what else... Obviously, there's almost 4 months' worth of fic out there that I have to add to the lists, and I have absolutely no idea when and if I'll have the time to actually do it. /o\ Well, I do have some free time this weekend, but I'm planning to spend it doing laundry and finally reading some due South fic, so... nope, no lists updating.

As to what's happening in my RL, [ETA: deleted 'cause paranoid.]

Also, I have cramps. My lower back is killing me. Whaaaah.

/emo

~~~

To make this post fannish, have a bunch of Hot Fuzz recs (nothing new here though, all the stories are *at least* several months old):

Funny How the Night Moves by ldhenson
Nicholas/Danny, PG, 985 words, pre-slash, hurt/comfort.

'I...I just brought you something. I can't stay long.'

Even in the darkness Danny's look of happy anticipation is unmistakable. 'Is it a box of Cornettos?'

'That's against the rules,' he says; then, less certainly: 'No. Er.' He reaches for the dimmer switch, dials it up to get just enough light to see by.

Danny squints at the pot as Angel nestles it carefully between the paws of the oversized plush monkey that has permanent residence on one of the bedside chairs, ensuring that the vessel has enough space and the contents won't tip. 'You went to buy a plant for me? Is that one of those peas lilies?'

'Peace lily,' Angel corrects automatically. 'And no, I didn't.'

Long Shot by kassrachel
Nicholas/Danny, R, 3300 words, first time, angst.

He ought to turn around and come back later, or else make a racket so Danny knows he's there, but for some reason he doesn't. He creeps closer and crouches to listen, and the next thing he hears is Doris.

"You don't need to hide it," Doris says, sounding less brassy and more kind than usual. "Everyone knows, you know."

"You could keep pretending you don't, then," and it's clear Danny's been crying. Because it's the anniversary of his mum's death, of course, and Nick's heart goes out to him. He sounds distraught, and it's all Nick can do to keep himself from rushing in to offer comfort.

"It's obvious you're sweet on him," Doris says.

Nick revises his theory hastily; nothing to do with the late Mrs. Butterman, then. Who on earth is Danny sweet on, and why didn't Nick know about it? Somehow he misses the little matter of the pronoun, though when he replays the conversation later in his mind it will be all he can think about.

Good Boys Too by joandarck
Nicholas/Danny, Andy/Andy, PG-13, 11750 words, first time.

"I beg your pardon?"

There was a touch of defiance in the shrug, and the usual mix of aggression and nonchalance. "Couple of gays having lunch at the pub. Butterman and Doris went to go have a look-see."

"You have got to be kidding me."

Cartwright was snickering silently to himself, although what he found amusing escaped Nicholas completely. Wainwright let out a long stream of smoke and watched it go, his eyes almost crossing, before saying, "Thought you were gettin' used to our country ideas of fun."

"Do you seriously mean to tell me that a person's apparent sexuality is considered sufficient reason to go and gawk at them in this town? And by officers of the law, no less?" Nicholas could feel his nostrils flare and his ears starting to heat up. He had great confidence in, and indeed fondness for, all his officers, but there were times when they still surprised him. And not pleasantly.

"Well, it's interesting, innit? No gays in Sandford."

Somewhere in the T's and sequels Somewhere in the Night, Animal by pepperlandgirl4
Nicholas/Danny, NC-17, 3450+3460+1600 words, first time. Summary: Set some months after the end of the movie. There's DVDs and kissing and switching off.

Nick drank from his beer, watching as Danny leaned forward on the couch, his eyes wide as Kurt Russel portrayed a very conflicted Wyatt Earp. They were somewhere in the T's now, but despite their proximity to the end of the alphabet, they still had dozens of DVDs to watch. Dozens of reasons for Nick to come over after work, or after a pint at the pub. Dozens of reasons to fall asleep on Danny’s couch, sitting a little too close to him. And Nick knew for a fact that once they reached the end, Danny would be all too happy to start over at the beginning.

The music became louder, more intense as Wyatt Earp, his brothers, and Doc Holliday began the long walk to…Nick frowned. He wasn’t quite sure where they were going. He hadn’t been paying close attention to the movie. Watching Danny’s reaction to what was happening on the television was always more fun.

Stars Fall on Sandford by annlarimer
Gen-ish (very), Nicholas/Danny (est.rel if you squint), PG, 4000 words, some humour. Summary: Nicholas Angel, Destroyer of Worlds.

Danny knew a lot of the constellations, and even some single stars. His Dad had taught him a few, and he was perhaps the only child in the history of Sandford Primary School to keep their names in his head past exam times. The Plow (or, if you prefer, Bear), the Other Plow (or Extra Bear), the Girl Who Looks Like a W, The Flying Horse That's More Like A Square Than a Horse Really, Orion (Danny always remembered him from Men in Black) with his little belt -- missing a loop apparently, because it dangled -- and The Two Tiny-Headed Blokes.

They were all so still and tall.

He wondered who lived up there. Maybe, right now, on a Bear's snout or a Bloke's foot, somebody with a really good telescope was looking this way, and could see him.

Danny waved, just in case. Hello there. Sandford Welcomes You. We really mean it now.

Fur Pie by tawg
Nicholas/Danny, PG, 1800 words, first time. Summary: Nicholas and Danny find a productive way to spend their time. A/N: Painfully domestic. I decided to write fluff fic, and this is it. There is pie, and kittens, and kitchen snark. There is no, y’know, reason for any of the above. I just like pie. And kittens. And projecting.

Nicholas kept looking at him.

“It’s a cat, Nick. It’ll be fine.”

Nicholas kept looking at him.

“Nick,” Danny whined.

Nicholas kept staring at Danny. His bit at his bottom lip, like he was trying to keep it from trembling.

“You fucker,” Danny exploded. “You absolute cock. Fine. Feed the cats, feed them all. Give them names and collars with bells and spend your evening knitting them tiny little demeaning jumpers.”

Nicholas grinned, the heartbroken look vanishing like it was never there. “You’re so emotional, Danny,” he chided. “You’re probably right though. Most of those cats look like utter freeloaders.”

Danny frowned as he introduced pastry to pie dish. “Most?” he asked cautiously.

Four Times Nicholas Angel Wanted to Kiss Danny Butterman (And One Time He Did) by lozenger8
Nicholas/Danny, PG-13, 1300 words, first time.

Ever since Sandford residents had cleaned up their act in regards to murdering innocent people and dumping the bodies underground, the town had looked less than pristine. Mars bar wrappers adorned the gutters, there were plastic beer-can holders floating in the wishing fountain, and used condoms enmeshed with autumn leaves --- none of them used by Nicholas. Which was not his first thought, by any means. It was at least sixth on the list.

What Nicholas failed to do when he put an end to the Neighbourhood Watch Alliance 'Happy Fun Time Killing Spree' (and wasn't he more than a little disturbed when he found the documentation designating it as such) was put in place appropriate committees that could oversee all of those little jobs the NWA did as well as bludgeon, set fire to, and maim.

Cheer Up (You Miserable Fuck) by lozenger8
Nicholas/Danny, PG-13, 1730 words, pre-slash. Summary: Friendship is a whole new uncharted territory that Nicholas has to navigate through carefully, and he takes it slowly, because he doesn't want to ruin it.

It's not like he's never been touched, because he has, plenty of times before. He's been stabbed, which is a lot like touching, only with metal and blood involved. But he still sits awkwardly next to Danny, occasionally glancing his way, registering the heat radiating out from his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

He has a closeness with Danny he's never had with anyone else, and sometimes feels will never have with anyone else ever again. Because when he's with Danny, he's not actually lonely. Confused, yes. Unsure, always. But lonely? Never.

It's partly that realisation that holds him back. He's always afraid he's going to say it. That at any given moment he'll blurt it all out in a dramatic monologue.

Like A Fish by dr_tectonic
Nicholas/Danny, PG, 1200 words, established relationship (?), humour. Summary: Nick & Danny get ready to go out for dinner.

"Danny, what's this?" Nicholas Angel contemplated a stuffed... something. It was small, green, and plush, and he would have called it a cuddly toy except for all the tentacles. And the wings. And the strangely bumpy head with evil orange eyes. It had been sitting on top of the small television in Danny Butterman's bedroom.

Danny leaned his head out of the bathroom. "Oh, him? That's dread plush Cthulhu, that is." He pronounced the name, as best Angel could tell, having only ever read it, correctly. Danny turned back to the mirror. "Oh, dammit, now I've messed up me tie." He started over, muttering. "Twice 'round the tree and into the hole..."

Angel looked askance at the thing in his hands. "What, as in H.P. Lovecraft? Eldritch terror from beyond the depths of time and space?"

"Yeah. Cute, innie?"

Learning Aid by tawg [cutest thing ever, seriously!]
Nicholas/Danny, G, 600 words (and a diagram!), established relationship. Summary: Danny can’t quite figure something out. Nicholas tries to help.

“I just don’t get it,” Danny said.

“Get what?” Nicholas replied.

“Why you like me.”

Nicholas shifted. He had been – rather comfortably – slotted between Danny and the back of the couch, both their feet hanging over one arm. He now draped himself over Danny’s stomach, resting his chin on Danny’s chest. “Because you’re amazing,” he said.

“But I’m not,” Danny said in the kind of voice that queried ‘what, you’ve haven’t noticed this yet?’.

“Yes you are,” Nicholas replied, stretched out over Danny like a lizard on a rock. “You’re fun, and smart, and incredibly good looking-”

A Boy's Book of Practical Magic to Mystify, Baffle and Entertain by annlarimer
Gen-ish, Nicholas/Danny, PG, 2950 words, some angst. Summary: For this trick, he'll need a volunteer from the pavement. You, sir, the man with the fucking enormous knife in your chest! Don't be shy, now.

The first time he visited his father in prison, Danny stood in the waiting room, shifting nervously from foot to foot, looking round suddenly at every strange noise. What with it being a prison and all, there were a lot of strange noises. His head only made them stranger.

"This would be a lot easier if I could just hate him and not go," he told Nicholas Angel

Nicholas looked up from a moldering issue of OK!, pretending to relax in hopes of making Danny feel better. "I don't think it would."

"Yeah. You're probably right."

The door opened, and a guard called Danny's name.

Nicholas patted him on the shoulder. "Enjoy the strip search."

"What?"

Nicholas grinned at him.

Standard Deviation by karolja
Nicholas/Danny, PG-13, 450 words. Summary: Boys' Night In runs into a slight complication.

"Oh. Don't know about that." Danny frowns down at the player again. "Suppose I'll have to take it into town and have it looked at tomorrow."

"I suppose so." Nick looks away in turn, down at his still un-touched beer. He could -- he might -- oh, sod it.

"Well, then." Danny pushes the currently-defunct DVD player back into place and stands up, wobbling a bit from having sat too long. Nick steadies him, and offers him the other bottle. Danny grins, accepts it, and takes a long swallow, ignoring the glass, as usual. Nick watches his throat flex and feels humiliatingly obvious.

"A Bit of Fry and Laurie" FTW!

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 19:54:29 GMT

Just because I can! And 'cause Fry and Laurie are THE BEST! \o/ :)

Major Donaldson

Censored

Psychic Spoon Bender

Tricky Linguistics

theatre and some salad

Mr. Burmie

Polite Rap

The word "gay"

My Dear Boy

The Lovely Stephen Fry

OH GOD. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. :)

due South recs

Sun, 06 Jul 2008 18:06:51 GMT

Some new (posted this week) stories that I enjoyed muchly:

Another Roadside Attraction by alex51324
Gen, Fraser, Kowalski, PG-13, 1976 words, humour. Summary: Fraser has a lot to learn about road trips.

[Ray and Fraser on a road trip with Fraser behind the wheel. So FUNNY! *g*]

Ray tried to think of something that would leave him wanting to eat a sandwich that even the wolf wasn’t interested in. “Well, suppose the car breaks down. In a cell phone dead zone. And then when we go to walk for help, we both break both of our legs. And we can’t flag down a passing car for help because--” He searched for a plausible reason, but didn’t find one. “Because everyone else’s car has broken down too. If that happened, we’d be kicking ourselves for passing up a chance to stop at a giant cow with a snack bar.”

Trample Down Barbed Wire by catwalksalone
Kowalski/Vecchio, R, 2300 words, first time, some angst, post-CotW.

[Another road trip for your enjoyment. Nothing funny *here*. If you love your Rays, go and read this RIGHT NOW. This story will make you HAPPY. \o/]

Those are some serious ants Vecchio has in his pants. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We're in the middle of nowhere, Stanley. You're not gonna find an anonymous blowjob in the restroom here. Communicable diseases, sure, but you probably already got a full complement."

Ray's head whips around. His brain is having trouble keeping up with his ears. "What the fuck, Vecchio?"

Rules of the road by miss_zedem
Fraser/Kowalski, PG-13, 1000 words, post-'first time'. Summary: Ray's starting to worry about Fraser.

[Fraser and his annoying mountie ways. Very cute fic!]

"Yes, Fraser, up. I just drove through a stop sign without hardly taking my foot off the gas, and you don't got a lecture for me? No Inuit story? No feel-good bullshit about keeping people safe?" I pause, giving him time to rag on me about my language. Nothing. He just sits there, staring at his goddamn hat on the goddamn dash like it's got all the answers to the freaking universe written on it.

Simply Green by dessert_first
Fraser/Kowalski, NC-17, 3700 words, first time, cross-dressing, undercover.

[This fic hits my kink button really hard. Just guh. HOT HOT HOT. And sweeeeeet! And... and... "transvestite hooker librarian"!!! There. :)]

"But Ray," Fraser says again, and how does he do that? "I'd feel more comfortable if you—"

"Fraser, I am not gonna be your pimp, okay!"

It could maybe say strange things about their working relationship that no one in the busy bullpen even bats an eye at this. Conversations keep going, telephones keep ringing, Huey keeps taking some guy's statement, Dewey keeps laughing that obnoxious laugh at something Frannie said…

Ray tries not to think about it.

Ingenuity by primroseburrows
Fraser/Kowalski, PG-13, 1292 words, kid!fic, established relationship. There's also a prequel set in the same (AU) universe - Tangles, gen, 670 words.

[KIDFIC! Lovely, lovely kidfic! Yay! *flaily arms*]

Ray peeled off his coveralls and hung them on a hook. "Hey, Gracie, how come you didn't ask your Dad about the Red China stuff? He's the walking history book, not me."

Grace shrugged and shucked off her own coveralls. "Because he'd take an hour to answer me."

"Good point," said Ray, and together they trudged up the hill to the house.

Sometimes by bertybertle
Fraser/Kowalski, PG, 2172 words, pre-slash/established relationship, partly post-CotW.

[This is so very beautiful. Quiet, gentle, poetic, a bit angsty. Such a great story!]

But the words aren’t there. He can almost feel the shape of them in his mouth – almost make the sounds of the tantalising fragments that dance wildly just on the edge of his consciousness.

Ray thinks that the great writers and orators have used them all up – that there were a finite number of words to be spoken, and Ray has come to the party too late. Whitman has already said it, Shakespeare got there first or Tolstoy used the last of them. Someone else, someone smart, got Ray’s quota of words. So all as he’s left with is the yearning, the desperate need to explain himself and nothing to do it with.

Warm and capable of earnest grasping by belmanoir
Fraser/Vecchio, NC-17, 4421 words, first time, angst. Summary: Ray isn't impressed by Keats' poetry...at first.

[Fraser, Ray and the aftermath of "Victoria's Secret". Angsty and very, very hot. Brilliant RayV!voice. Hmm, what more to say? It's Belmanoir, people! *clutches fic to bosom*]

"It was perhaps ungenerous, Ray. But Keats was very young and dying of tuberculosis and believed his fiancée's affection to be more shallow and fleeting than his own. Recent scholarship suggests he may have misjudged her, but--"

"So he's saying, 'hey, you don't appreciate me now but when I'm dead you'll be gagging for it, but it's cool, I forgive you'?"

Fraser tilted his head, his mouth curving. "In essence, yes."

"Real big of him. If I were her I'd have hit him with my purse."

Oh, and I almost forgot. Thank you, dear anon, whoever you are, for such a cute and cuddly polar bear! *hearts* :)

Supernatural recs

Wed, 18 Jun 2008 16:43:57 GMT

Some happy-making SPN recs:

Alligator Alley by causeways
Sam/Dean, PG-13, 1023 words, established relationship, future!fic. Summary: In which there is a devil alligator, a t-shirt gets destroyed and Dean is maybe a little pudgy.

Sam's about to crack another joke but instead he just stares. Logically he's known that Dean's thirty-five for a while now, but he hasn't really thought about it until now. He's seen Dean every single day for the past seven years, has felt Dean's body over and under and beside his own for six, but now, seeing Dean covered in water, mud and alligator guts, he notices what he didn't before: the fine layer of fat softening out the lines of Dean's muscles, the way Dean's gut pushes over the top of his jeans. A lifetime of fast food and sitting in the car has finally started to catch up with Dean, Sam thinks. It hasn't slowed his reflexes, not so that Sam's noticed, but the pudge is definitely there, and Sam needs to have his hands on him all of a sudden.

Palatine by setissma
Sam/Dean, R, 7300 words, first time, bodyswap, humour, hurt/comfort. Summary: Bodyswap, featuring inappropriate erections, Dean being a total jackass, Sam collecting seashells, Hallmark cards, a sprained ankle, and backrubs.

One minute, he’s leaning over to look at the enormous spell book in Sam’s lap, sounding out a couple of phrases while they’re stopped at a red light, Sam messing with the radio. The next, he’s in the passenger seat while Sam’s nearly running Dean’s goddamned car into a Toyota.

Dean opens his mouth to yell, because his fucking brother should definitely know better than to run his car into anything, even in the event of sudden place switching, then realizes – suddenly and abruptly – that he’s still sitting in the driver’s seat.

His head turns, startled, without Dean doing anything.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean says, and the words come out of Sam’s mouth.

Kokomo by destina
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 6207 words, established relationship. Takes place between 2x20 and 2x21 (after that whole alternate reality thing). Summary: Dean needs a vacation, a beer, and a hug from Sam. Whether he likes it or not.

"Sam! Where the fuck are we?"

"Florida," Sam said, looking way too smug for Dean's comfort. He handed the donut to Dean, who took it without thinking, and waggled the brochures in Dean's face. "We're on vacation."

"The hell we are," Dean hissed. "We just had a vacation. We've got work to do."

"That wasn't a vacation." Sam popped the trunk and started unloading bags. "That was you being weirdly involved in inappropriately normal work, while I actually did the hunting for a change. We're supposed to be hiding out, remember? Off the radar." He dropped the lid of the trunk and turned on his heel, headed for room 18. "This place is off the radar."

"This is not hiding out," Dean said, following helplessly, a trail of brochures slipping from his hands like glossy breadcrumbs. "This is..."

"Vacation," Sam said. He turned to Dean, eyes narrowed. "I got the room for a week. Suck it up."

High-Minded by alethialia
Gen, Sam, Dean, PG-13, 6797 words, humour. Summary: Dean accidentally gets high. Sam deals really well.

“Dean, why are you stripping in public?” Sam asked. He walked closer to Dean, eyes shooting beams of light as he looked around, shifted.

“The sun wanted to show me something,” Dean informed him, grinning at the way the little squiggles in Sam’s forehead came out to play. He poked at them, laughing as they ran away from him, even as he tried to press them, catching in Sam’s skin, but little rivers of yellow followed his fingers instead.

He wondered who would win in a battle between the squiggles and the squares. Probably the squares. They could multiply. Saucy bastards.

“Are you high?” Sam breathed, skin going red behind Dean’s fingers. Then purple. Then a deep, deep blue that would put the sky to shame and Dean covered Sam’s face with his hands, not wanting the sky to see it. It’d be jealous and take Sammy away.

The Art of Manly Hugging by sevenfists
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 1700 words, first time, a bit of humour, a bit angst.

Sometimes, you know, Dean just needs a goddamn hug.

It's nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of dudes are into hugging. Like in that movie, with the football. Dean can't remember what it's called, but he definitely remembers there was hugging in it. And football dudes are pretty manly, if you ignore the whole ass-slapping, tight pants thing.

He can't have Sam knowing about it, though. Sam has ugly hair, stupid clothes, and a talent for sniffing out Dean's weak spots and exploiting them mercilessly. Dean knows that if Sam found out about the hugging thing, he'd never hear the fucking end of it.

So he's subtle about it.

Buffyverse recs

Sun, 08 Jun 2008 14:45:10 GMT

First, to all of you German football fans on my f-list: GOOD LUCK!!! Not that I think you'll need much of it in this match. :)

Some BtVS/AtS recs:

Graven Image by tabaqui
Angel/Gunn, NC-17, 1900 words, some angst.

The sun was a cage. Insubstantial prison, and Angel paced just beyond its intangible, ravenous bars. Avoiding, as far as he could, the assessing stares of the others. Cordelia, who looked as if she wanted to slap him and Wesley, who looked as if he'd already been slapped. And Gunn, who just watched with that limpid predator's stare, his dark eyes half-lidded, his arms crossed.

The air still smelled of her. Of Darla. Her scents of violet and cedar, overlaid with a new scent, a scent unfamiliar and unknown. Human scent, of sweat and fear and hate. Of sickness, hidden rot and damp.

"Act of Nature" Series by wesleysgirl and janedavitt
Giles/Xander, NC-17, 78600 words, first time/established relationship, angst. Summary: Set post 'Chosen'. Giles and Xander deal with the aftermath of a tragedy and their feelings for each other.

Giles waited for the Iona ferry to dock with a passivity that might have passed for patience to the casual observer. He had left London early that morning, each leg of his journey becoming shorter and slower as he swapped plane for car and car for boat. The driving urgency to reach his destination had left him with his first glimpse of the island, and now feet that had paced an airport lounge and pressed hard against the accelerator pedal in his hired car felt rooted to the rough concrete.

He looked beyond the looming, sturdy lines of the ferry to the small island. Iona's white sand beaches lay wind-smoothed and soft and the rocks and thin, short grass were a blur of grey and green to his tired eyes.

The Full Xander Harris Experience and sequel Holidays on the Hellmouth by mireille719
Xander/Larry, PG-13, 16400+20700 words, first time/established relationship, humour. Summary: "We hang out," Xander said. "And then you'll understand that I'm completely serious when I tell you that I am one hundred percent, completely and totally, straight." / "You're one hundred percent, completely and totally, insane." Sequel: When your boyfriend goes away to college, the passage of time gets measured in holidays.

"You've been walking around for the past year thinking I came out to you, and all it takes is me saying 'I like girls' for you to change your mind?" Why hadn't he thought of that before? he wondered. Oh, yeah, because it was stupid, that was why. If "I'm not gay," hadn't worked, why would "I like girls" make a difference?

Football players, he thought, trying not to roll his eyes.

"Seriously, I get it now," Larry said. "I just hadn't realized you were bi."

Beholder by kimberly_a
Spike/Xander, PG-13, 5400 words, first time. Summary: Xander deals with the loss of his eye.

Andrew picked up where Xander left off in Africa, so when Dawn headed out for a summer studying Greek in Athens -- and, less officially, studying some obscure demon dialects with a woman "friend" of Giles's who lived there -- and Buffy was itching to leave Rome for a vacation with her latest non-human boyfriend, it only made sense for Xander to housesit.

So he found himself in Rome. Alone again. But at least this time there was tv and beer and porn and a comfy bed to sleep in.

It was like paradise.

With his "retirement pension" supplied by the Watchers Council -- "The Council can afford it, Xander, and you have most definitely earned it" -- he could live relatively comfortably, though not lavishly. It helped that he wasn't paying rent.

Rome was a larger, more urban, more crowded city than he'd lived in before, and the difference was a bit overwhelming, especially after nearly a year wandering the villages and empty spaces of Africa. The insano-traffic was like nothing he'd ever seen. But he loved the cafes, the open-air movies

Hot Fuzz recs

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 14:50:13 GMT

In which Danny and Nicholas get to know one another intimately (abridged version) by tawg
Nicholas/Danny, PG, 1100 words, post-'first time', humour.

“So,” Danny started, “when did you… you know?”

Nicholas looked lazily over at him. A lazy Nicholas was a completely foreign object to Danny. That said, a lot of things that had just happened in this room were pretty foreign to Danny. “Know what?” Nicholas asked.

“Know that you were…” Danny paused, and struggled with both words and the rather pathetic blush that was suffocating him from the inside. “Into guys,” he finished lamely.

“Nineteen eighty-seven,” Nicholas replied promptly.

Danny stared at him. “I was thinkin’ more in terms of an event,” he said slowly.

Untitled by calathea
Nicholas/Danny, G, 640 words, pre-slash. Summary: something about Nick giving Danny gifts.

So Danny was trying to be more... more something, about Nick's little gifts. More adult. More Nicholas-like. He was also trying not to look with longing at the machine in the motorway service station on the M4, with the big claw and the tank full of stupid cuddly toys, except there was this HILARIOUS rabbit, with a cowboy hat, and yeah, the cowboy hat maybe brought back some memories that weren't all good, but rabbit! In a cowboy hat! Wicked!

Danny Butterman's Magical Box o' Love by koshiroryuu
Nicholas/Danny, PG, 1800 words, first time, humour. Summary: Independence Day is a shit film. It's absolute bollocks. They could've been watching gay porn!

Danny Butterman did not hide DVDs, which was why Nicholas was so surprised one evening to spot, near Danny's foot, what appeared to be the corner of a small cardboard box full of them shoved haphazardly underneath Danny's sofa.

"Danny," he said, "Are those DVDs in that box?"

"What box?" said Danny, and he kicked it, hard, out of sight. Nicholas heard something crunch.

Five Things that Never Happened in Sandford, Gloucestershire by annlarimer
Gen-ish, Nicholas/Danny, PG, 4500 words, five AU ficlets, pre-slash, angst, character death, some humour. Summary: You know those things that happened? These aren't them. They. Oh, whatever.

"It would appear the heavens have opened."

Angel's got this bit down cold. Rain, suitcase, plant, keys, fascist, hag, fascism, bless you.

He's tried not checking in, buying a fun-cam, and going straight to the crypt for photos. But of course they've been watching him since his train arrived. (There's probably nothing the matter with his cottage at all -- he's been put in the Swan because it's easier to keep track of his comings and goings.) The NWA are always waiting for him, and his only consolation is that he gets off a few cutting insults at Frank before he's shot or stabbed. That sort of thing is normally beneath him, but it's worth it for Frank's expression of surprise.

In any case, experience says it's best to check in.

How to Take Care of a Japanese Peace Lily by fivil
Gen-ish, Nicholas/Danny, PG, 1400 words, pre-slash, some angst. Summary: The two most important relationships in his life are the peace lily, and his best mate.

"Why'd they call it a peace lily, though?" Danny wants to know. His big hand is reaching for the flower but Nicholas' own blocks it.

"I'm not sure," Nicholas replies honestly. "Perhaps because its flowers are white."

"They've not had many wars in Japan, I s'pose," Danny says, "since, y'know, that movie Seven Samurais. Oh, my mum had water lilies in the garden."

They're a completely different family of flowers, but Nicholas doesn't point this out, instead brushes some of the earth off the side of the pot and then places his hand on Danny's shoulder.

"I'd love to see them," he says and even if not a fan of botany, Danny looks pleased.

One And One Is Two by prairiestar
Andy/Andy (pre-slash), Nicholas/Danny (established relationship), PG-13, 4000 words.

"Ta, Danny." Doris stood, and turned an appraising eye on the two detectives. "I've got an better idea, though. I'll buy the next two rounds for everyone-" a small, surprised cheer went up around the table- "if Andy gives his little partner there a nice, thorough snogging."

Wainwright's confident grin went slightly sour, then fell off his face. Cartwright's eyes flashed panic and he looked down. And after beat of silence... laughter blossomed all around the table. Doris beamed triumphantly at Wainwright, took a small bow, and then took her seat.

"Well played, PC Thatcher." Nicholas's eyes twinkled as he looked at her with new admiration. "Bravo."

"Yeah, well." Doris nodded, graciously accepting the compliment. "I ain't without a sense of feminist wotcher-callit, empowerment, no matter wot you lot might think sometimes. Plus..." And she directed Nick's gaze towards the birthday boy with a fond smile. "I knew he'd like it."

"Oh, come on! Do it!!" Danny yelled, delighting in the Andys' embarrassment.

Encounter at Cooper's Farm by pandonkey
Nicholas/Danny, PG, 1073 words, first time. Summary: Nicholas finally notices something.

Before half a moment had passed, the bull broke his stare and bore toward them, and Nicholas and Danny turned in one synchronized motion to run. The bull was close behind them as they neared a brush-covered ditch at the bottom of the hill, and Danny took a quick look behind him, grabbed Nicholas, and flung the both of them down at a roll into the ditch. They heard the bull, seemingly thwarted by their sudden disappearance into the overhanging greenery, go tearing past overhead.

They lay face-to-face on their sides in the ditch, breathing hard. Nicholas grinned approvingly – and rather proudly – at Danny. “You’ve really become quite good, you know.”

Danny blushed, his face going an even brighter red than it had from the running. “Eh, well, I’ve learned from the best.” He smiled, meeting Nicholas’s eyes – then his gaze shifted down a bit. The glance lasted the barest of seconds before Danny looked away again, tilting his head as if to listen. “S’pose we’ve lost him?”

The Man with the Stick by annlarimer
Andys, Nicholas/Danny, PG, 100 words, humour.

How large is the stick up Nicholas Angel's arse?

due South recs

Sat, 31 May 2008 15:23:25 GMT

Some dS recs (mostly oldies but goodies), more or less randomly taken from my bookmarks. Various slash pairings.

Ring and sequel Still Ringing by Matthew Haldeman-Time
Kowalski/Vecchio, Fraser/Turnbull, NC-17, 16500+5500 words, established relationship, angst, humour. Summary: Wherein Benton Fraser's vocabulary fails him; Ray Kowalski's tub is full of socks; and Ma Vecchio goes postal over an OFC. Sequel: Wherein the reader will find Ren's thoughts on Victoria, Fraser's attitude toward Turnbull, and, ooh! ooh! a Ray/Ray sex scene!

Fraser and Turnbull as Mountie freaks. Ray and Ray and relationship problems. RayK taking care of foster kids. What's not to love? I adore this story. :)
"I just don't get it, Fraser." Ray drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I just do not get it. I don't get him," he amended. "I don't get him at all."

Ben stayed quiet, for once. He knew that Ray needed to talk, so he'd be a friend and listen.

"I mean, he's great with kids. His sister's kids. He likes kids. I know he likes kids. And he knows I've always wanted kids, it's not some big woo-hoo shock there, I've always been real clear on, 'Hey, I want kids.'"

"Yes, Ray."

"So he should expect me to want to get kids. What, did he think that I'd just want kids forever and never try to have any? Since when am I the sort of person who just sits around and pines quietly? I want it, I'm going to get it. I don't sit on my hands and whimper."

Now there was an interesting image. Ben was courteous enough to replace the picture of Ray in his head with one of Ren. Oh, very nice.

Dog Days of Winter by pir8fancier
Fraser/Kowalski, R, 1347 words, first time. Written for ds_flashfiction's Holiday Party, prompt: "Fraser, do you mind explaining what your wolf is doing?"

Diefenbaker as a cupid. Heheheh. Delightful! :)
And now we were in Ray's apartment, having divested ourselves of our coats and boots not three seconds earlier. Instead of plopping himself down on what is now known as "Dief's chair," he went completely berserk and began running around the two of us, nipping at our heels, barking and growling at us the entire time.

"Diefenbaker! Stop this instant. Stop! STOP! Fetch. Fetch the nice ball," I faked a throw, but Diefenbaker didn't even follow my hand. "Heel, Heel! Run. STOP!" I screamed at Diefenbaker an entire dictionary of commands to no avail.

"Fuck, fuck! Fraser, goddammit! Do something!" Ray screamed as the growling became more menacing when we tried to escape to the bathroom.

Both of us began yelling more commands; well, I yelled commands, while Ray screamed threats. "You are dead meat, furball. Hear me? D.E.A.D. M.E.A.T."

Due North by lemonlashes
Fraser/Vecchio, PG-13, 2000 words, AU, first time, angst. Summary: "I first came here on the trail of my father's killer..."

A great little AU in which Vecchio and Fraser's roles in the Pilot are reversed. Awesome RayV voice.
He's covered in snow and he's wind-burned, too. His voice is what Ma calls milk-chocolate tenor as he says "That's the last time he'll fish over the limit again," and I realize for the fourth time today that I've lost my mind.

Before I can go ask him what the hell, he's getting called in for a yell-at by his lieutenant, or whatever they call them here. Don't I know that drill, huh? But it's another thing I'll never have to deal with again. No pointed words from Welsh, no reprimands formal or informal, no nagging about the outstanding caseload. No badge no gun no radio...

Now he's coming back out of the office. I go to block him from brushing past me, like I would brush, and that lonesomecrazed part of me's thinking about what the bump'll feel like. But he stops before we make contact.

"I do beg your pardon," he says. His eyes are bright, his cheeks pink. He's so clean he almost sparkles. Snowflakes are melting in his hair as he frowns. "You must be from the Chicago police."

A love like theirs by marcellapolman
Fraser/Kowalski, Vecchio/Welsh, R, 7000 words, post-CotW. Summary: Victoria is a witch and she comes back and finds Fraser having sex with RayK!!! And she turns them both into kids!!! And RayV has to find out how to change them back!!! Is Frannie a better babysitter than Turnbull? What do Thatcher and Stella think? Why are Ray's parents at the station? And who exactly picked Welsh to explain the birds and the bees?.

Written for the ds_flashfiction Badfic challenge. Victoria turns Fraser and RayK into 12-years-old kids. I know, this is supposed to be "badfic" but I can't help but be charmed by this story. So, so adorable! And call me a pervert, but Vecchio/Welsh is hot. So there!
“She took our dogs,” Stanley continued. “So we had to walk all by ourselves to the nearest town.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I nearly froze to death three times, didn’t I Ben?”

Turning a couple of shades paler, Benton nodded. “Yes, Ray, you did.”

“But you saved me!” Triumphant look. Proud voice.

Ray got the message loud and clear. Seated next to him was Stanley’s boyfriend Benton Fraser, superhero.

“All right, guys,” he said, “I think it’s time we paid a little visit to someone who knows a thing or two about magic and witchcraft and stuff.”

“Cool,” Stanley said, and his voice dropped to confidentiality level when he added, “you know, my hunches tell me that that woman we met might have been a witch.”

Ray squeezed the boy’s boney shoulder and thought, Kid, you’re going to make a damn fine detective some day.

Faster, Diefenbaker! Mush! Mush! by yahtzee63
Kowalski/Vecchio, PG-13, 2265 words, first time, humour, post-CotW.

Ray and Ray on an insanely funny road trip from Chicago to New York, trying to catch up with Fraser who's in a hot pursuit of a criminal.
However, they both agreed the absolute worst news was that Fraser had commandeered a taxicab in the name of the Canadian government and Queen Elizabeth II, leaving an irritated, newly anti-Canadian taxi driver on the sidewalk. Both the stolen car and a checker cab containing a Mountie and a wolf had just been reported speeding past the Indiana state line.

"I don't know what's scarier here," Kowalski said. "The fact that a criminal's on the loose or the fact that Fraser's driving."

Vecchio envisioned the mayhem on the highways, then decided not the envision that any more. "He'll get his man eventually," he said. "We both know that."

"Yeah, but which man?" Then Kowalski closed his eyes, leaning against the police station door. "And, yeah. The suspect. Right."

The Line by cesperanza
Fraser/Kowalski, NC-17, 2400 words, first time.

Fingerfucking. Kitchen table sex. I'm just... GUH. HOT LIKE BURNING!
Finally Fraser forces his eyes away from my dick and finds my face, and I can't help it--I tilt my head a little and grin at him. "Take your jacket off, Fraser. Stay a while," and Fraser glances down at himself like he's only just realized that he's still dressed. He nods jerkily, and then wrenches the jacket off and lets it fall to the floor behind him, Mountie manners completely gone to hell. His blue shirt, carefully ironed, stretches over his shoulders--and okay, maybe Fraser isn't my normal type, but I'll bet I'm not his type either. I'd lay money on it.

Fraser pushes my legs apart and steps between them--and then just folds himself down on top of me. I wrap my arms around that nice-looking blue shirt, hugging him to me, rubbing his back. Fraser buries his face in my neck and just breathes me in. He's all heavy and warm, and trying to calm down a little before he fucks me, I think.

Untitled and sequel by aerye
Kowalski/Vecchio, Fraser/Joe Dick, PG-13, 200 words, humour, crossover with Hard Core Logo.

Hilarious cracky crack. Children's talk! Eeeee! *g*
See RayV. See RayK. See Diefenbaker. RayV and RayK are boyfriend and boyfriend.

Diefenbaker is not. He is a Dog. Okay, Wolf. Half Wolf. See Diefenbaker whine.

Bruises, Bandaged by estrella30
Fraser/Kowalski, NC-17, 2950 words, established relationship, post-CotW, a bit of angst. Summary: "Fraser dips the edge of the washcloth into a bowl of warm water, and tilts Ray's head so it leans back against the kitchen chair."

Ray gets a bit hurt while hunting for dinner. Fraser worries. OK, more like freaks out. Fraser and his abandonment issues are a fascinating theme to explore and I love this little take on it. Plus, HOT SEX!
"Jesus," Ray mutters. He looks up at Fraser and narrows his eyes. "Can you be a little nicer, for Christ's sake?"

"I'm being as nice as I can," Fraser answers, his voice curt. "Now sit still."

Ray's foot taps impatiently on the floor and he blows out a breath as Fraser wets the washcloth again and presses it against Ray's forehead.

"Leave that there," Fraser tells him. He turns around and goes to the bathroom, pulling a tin of ointment and a roll of bandages from the cabinet. One inch lower and he'd be barreling his way through the snow right now, on his way to the nearest hospital, because Ray could quite possibly have lost an eye. One inch lower and God knows if Ray would have been able to make his way back home from the woods. And if he couldn't, and Fraser didn't know where to start looking for him, and he was stuck out there all night, hurt and alone -

Meme + SGA recs

Mon, 26 May 2008 19:54:48 GMT

I'm feeling kind of lurkery lately. Like, I'd be reading f-list, see something I really relate to and think: "yes, definitely, what she said" and then... not comment. I mean, I've never been very social on lj when it comes to RL emo-ish stuff, but right now I have to make a conscious effort to comment on fannish, meta-ish posts. And I fail most of the time. Apathy or something like that. Work, work and no fun equals one exhausted V, I guess. Don't overwork yourselves, kids.

Quote meme, snagged from mergatrude. Go here (scroll to the bottom of the page and check boxes). Keep refreshing until you've collected five quotes that really resonate with you, then post them to your journal.

- People drain me, even the closest of friends, and I find loneliness to be the best state in the union to live in.
Margaret Cho, weblog, 10-30-03

- If little else, the brain is an educational toy.
Tom Robbins, US novelist (1936 - )

- One should as a rule respect public opinion in so far as is necessary to avoid starvation and to keep out of prison, but anything that goes beyond this is voluntary submission to an unnecessary tyranny, and is likely to interfere with happiness in all kinds of ways.
Bertrand Russell, Conquest of Happiness (1930) ch. 9; British author, mathematician, & philosopher (1872 - 1970)

- Theology is never any help; it is searching in a dark cellar at midnight for a black cat that isn't there. Theologians can persuade themselves of anything.
Robert Heinlein, US science fiction author (1907 - 1988)

- Quality is never an accident; it is always the result of high intention, sincere effort, intelligent direction and skillful execution; it represents the wise choice of many alternatives.
William A. Foster

And to give this post some fannish content, have some SGA recs. These are mostly longish fandom classics I've been re-reading bits and pieces of lately (umm, "lately" meaning "since January" *g*).

Flinch by maisierita
McKay/Sheppard (one-sided, unrequited), R, 2200 words, ANGST. Summary: Rodney can't read people, Rodney is always oblivious, so Rodney had always been safe, would have never figured it out, but now he knows, and when John had touched him, he'd flinched.

John figures it out the morning after Rodney doesn't ascend, when John's still feeling pulse-pounding gratitude that Rodney is still here, and alive. He figures it out as soon as he brushes by Rodney in the briefing room, and Rodney flinches away.

It's small, a brief tensing of muscle that shifts Rodney's arm away, so inconspicuous he doubts anyone else would have even seen it, but John sees it, feels it, and it makes his stomach sink. He feels vaguely nauseous, but he sits in his seat and smiles at everyone and pretends that everything's okay, everything's perfect, everything's normal.

Inside, though, he's shaking, and he has to keep his hands in his lap because they're trembling, too. He should have guessed – actually, he had guessed, but he should have known. It's just his luck, and fuck the Ancients anyway; fuck them and their lethal ascension machines that grant people the ability to read your fucking mind.

Weddings, Plural, and a Yak by cesperanza
McKay/Sheppard, NC-17, 17700 words, first time, kidfic.

By the eighth time John Sheppard married Rodney McKay, they were old pros at the wedding thing, having weathered not only an Ouishan blood wedding, but also a twelve-hour Avalonian handfasting, a Malanese necklace-exchange, and a Thurtu joining ceremony that invoked a fire-god and featured seven kinds of cake.

So when the Yerulian Ambassador explained that his people liked to mark the formation of a political alliance with the celebration of a wedding, John just elbowed Rodney and said: "Want to get hitched?"

Rodney hardly looked up from his computer tablet. "Sure, yeah, whatever," he said.

The Yerulians took Rodney somewhere to get dressed, and the Village Elder was right in the middle of going over the ceremonial vows with John when the shouting started, and suddenly everyone was running. John pulled his gun, burst out of the hut, and followed the crowd to the edge of the village, and when he finally pushed his way through the thick pack of spectators he found Teyla and Ronon standing over Rodney, who was collapsed flat on his back on a rough-hewn bench, one hand clasped to his heart.

"It is all right," Teyla said, turning to him. "It is over."

"What is?" John asked.

"I think I'm having a heart attack," Rodney gasped.

"Rodney has been very heroic," Teyla said calmly. "He has saved a child from a bear."

"More of a yak," Ronon said.

The "Farm in Iowa" Universe by sheafrotherdon
McKay/Sheppard, NC-17 overall, about 150000 words, AU, first time (part 1), established relationship, kidfic. Summary: John inherits a farm, Rodney ends up entirely out of his element, and there is much ado about baseball.

John's grandpa dies July 27th, six days after he turns eighty-two. He's buried long before the news reaches Antarctica, and John's left with a note from the minister who conducted services, a newspaper clipping about the funeral, and the key to a farmhouse he hasn't seen since he was twelve. The key's dull and scratched, and for reasons John doesn't entirely understand, he hopes this is the one his grandpa used to tuck under the doormat when he headed into town.

He shoves it under his pillow, and heads out to the chopper. There's nothing to be done about it now, and his grandpa always said work could cure pretty much anything.

He takes the supply run, does his best not to think about Iowa overmuch, but there are only two months left of his tour, and suddenly there's someplace he can go when he's through. A lifetime in the military's made him good at pushing away unwanted thoughts, but this time none of the usual tricks seem to work. He lies awake at night, kept from sleep by memories of summers flecked with gold and the sting of bug bites in the late afternoon. He can't decide if everything he remembers is soaked with sunlight because he's tired of freezing, or because his memories are sepia-toned.

By the time he packs his duffel and checks his locker for the last time, he's still not entirely accepted what he's about to do. But four days later he's in a cab, $46 on the meter and rising, speeding down a county road, looking for the farmhouse around every September bend.

Fourteen Years by hth_the_first
Ronon/Sheppard, McKay/Sheppard, NC-17, 12304 words, first time/established relationship, angst, some hurt/comfort. A/N: Ronon. Ronon. Some other people. Ronon.

The fifth year he was on Atlantis, he started sleeping with John Sheppard.

It all happened so fast he almost wasn’t sure how it started. They were washing up in the gym showers after working out together, which wasn’t unusual, and then all of a sudden his hand was on the back of Ronon’s thigh, stuttering gently against wet skin as his fingers skimmed over Ronon’s ass. Ronon stared at him, frozen in amazement, because even in his fantasies it was always more...complex. It wasn’t just this, this easy, fond touch.

Lost in Waiting by laceymcbain
McKay/Sheppard, NC-17, 14800 words, first time, angst, hurt/comfort. Summary: "You can’t have it both ways, Colonel. If you haven’t had any relationships, either you’re having the occasional one-night stand or you’re not having sex at all.”

Rodney’s sitting up now, trying to make eye contact in the dark, and John turns into the pillow and refuses to look. He can feel the muscles in his face tighten and he tries desperately to find the casual smirk he usually tosses off when he needs to talk about sex like he knows what he’s doing. He’s been doing that all his life—it shouldn’t be that hard. He knows how to lie—it’s as natural as breathing, and yet, at this moment in time, he can’t think of anything that Rodney would believe.

“John?” Rodney says again, and out of the corner of his eye John can see the hand fluttering just over his shoulder, and he tenses, ready for the touch, but it doesn’t come.

Rodney lets out a long breath and says, “Jesus Christ. That explains a hell of a lot.”

"On Life and Living" Series by wesleysgirl
McKay/Sheppard, NC-17, ~80000 words, first time/established relationship, AU, angst, kidfic. Summary: if Atlantis exists it's without John and Rodney.

It's been more than a year, and John still can't believe that Elizabeth's gone. Every morning he wakes up and feels his heart skip a beat as he realizes that he's alone in the bed, and every night as he falls asleep the little sounds in the room -- the faint hum of the clock, the sounds of cars on the street outside -- that don't include her steady breathing make him want to cry.

He doesn't, though. He learned his lesson on that one.

At first, right after she died, it wasn't so hard. They'd been waiting for it, preparing, and when it finally came he knew what he had to do. There was a list four pages long of calls to make, errands to run, ideas for distracting Kayla from the worst of other people's emotions, and being able to check off each item was what kept John going from day to day. He'd thought there'd be a sense of relief when he'd finished, made that last check mark, but he was wrong; that was when it really started to hit him. He couldn't indulge, though, not when there was Kayla to think of. Mature beyond her years and able to keep her own emotions in check, his eight year old daughter falls apart completely when other people cry.

John stuffs his emotions until she's in bed, then runs on the treadmill for an hour, sometimes two, until he's soaked with sweat and dehydrated enough that tears won't fill his eyes no matter what he thinks of. Not the long months of watching Elizabeth lose weight until she was practically skeletal, so fragile-looking that John was afraid to do more than touch her. Not the last month at home, hospice workers taking their house away from them and turning it into an almost-hospital that, in the end, John was hardly sure made it worth it.

The Neighborly Detective and the Tragic Woobie Widower and sequel A Promise Made by elayna88
McKay/Sheppard, NC-17, ~50000 words, first time, AU, kidfic. Summary: Detective John Sheppard starts his new life in suburbia and becomes steadily captivated by his neighbor, Dr. Rodney McKay, and his son Timothy. This fic started because I wondered why Rodney never got to be the tragic woobie widower in fics.

John was wearing a dress the first time he saw Timothy McKay. It was a lovely, slinky, black dress, and John felt absurd in it, even more so as he swung his long legs out of his car and looked into the boy's inquisitive face, dominated by serious blue eyes. "Umm…hi."

"Hello," the child said gravely. "Are you the new neighbor?"

"Yes. I'm…ah…John Sheppard." John rather wished he hadn't dumped the wig on the car seat. Maybe then he could pretend he was a woman and hope that the child wouldn't notice his height or awkwardness in the high heels in the dusk. Joyce Sheppard, his visiting sister who would then disappear and never reappear.

"I'm Timothy McKay. I live there." He pointed next door to the large two-story house with the best yard on the block. Perfect green grass, neatly manicured bushes, patches of beautiful flowers, all so gorgeous, especially in comparison to John's trashed-out yard. John reminded himself that bad upkeep was the main reason he'd been able to afford moving into this neighborhood. "With my dad. My mom had a dress like that. She used to wear it for parties. Have you been to a party?"

"No. I don't usually wear dresses. This was for work."

"It's really pretty."

"Yeah, I guess." John stepped out of the car, glancing down at his legs, looking so weird shaved bare, the black dress dropping almost to his bony knees. "I don't normally wear this kind of thing."

Supernatural recs

Mon, 12 May 2008 19:20:31 GMT

The Song of the Treadmill by tabaqui
Sam/Dean, NC-17, long, angst, first time, AU.

It doesn't end with a bang, or a whimper. It doesn't end in ice or fire or with some rough beast, eternally slouching toward an impossible Bethlehem. It ends as it began, with a bargain – a deal. Life for life, soul for soul – Sam for Dean forever, Amen.

Sam can't flip those switches – can't find the end to unravel the skein. But he can trade Hell for Heaven, and he can make sure that someone – two someones – are waiting there for Dean.

I can't leave you, Sam. I'm the big brother – I'm supposed to take care of you.

It's my turn. It's my turn, Dean. It'll be okay. Angels watching over us, remember?

I remember, Dean says. All that they've done and seen is in his eyes – every emotion he's ever let through shining there for Sam to see. Burning away the tiredness that has settled on Dean's shoulders in the last handful of months, leaving nothing but warmth and brightness and...happiness. Dean strides away into light and shadow – to the arms and hands and smiles that welcomed him into life. It breaks Sam's heart and mends it, all at once.

And then Sam's alone and the angel is there, smiling a sideways, crooked smile. Tatterdemalion in blue and black, mud on the sides of road-broken boots.

So. You ready? the angel says, and Sam sighs and sniffs. Wipes his eyes with the palm of his hand and takes a deep, deep breath.

Yeah, sure. Let's go.

Find Me in the Dark by nekare
Sam/Dean, PG-13, 1800 words, first time, some angst. Summary: Amnesia fic, baby.

When you wake up, you have a name stuck on your throat. Dean, you say out loud, while lying on a bed you don’t recognize and staring up at a moldy ceiling you can’t place, and then you realize that that word is just about all you remember.

Dean, you say again, and someone answers What, and you startle so hard you end up falling off the bed.

Turns out, the other guy doesn’t know who he is either. You both sit on your beds, staring at each other, trying to figure something out. You end up fighting over the ownership of the name you remember. You claim that you’re the one that remembers it, so it should be yours, logically. The other guy says that he was the one that answered to it, so it should be his. You bicker over it, end up wrestling on the floor, and it feels so familiar it hurts.

A Rose by Any Other Name (Would Be Just As Gay) by causeways
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 673 words, established relationship. Summary: Sam and Dean spend the night at a bed-and-breakfast. With rimming.

"Dude," Dean says, taking in the room: the lone four-poster with lacy white curtains; the pale pink paint on the walls; the floral carpet and the floral curtains and the flowers on the bedside table in a vase, fuckin' pink roses even. "This is the gayest thing I've ever seen."

"Oh yeah, and whose fault is it that we got the honeymoon suite? I don't know, maybe I'll blame the guy who had his hand on my lower back when we were checking in downstairs," Sam says.

"The guy who—aww, for cryin' out loud," Dean says. "That wasn't gay."

"Right," Sam says. "Because this whole thing isn't gay at all. Like, if I licked your ass open, that wouldn't be gay at all."

Oh, it is love by fleshflutter
Sam/Dean, PG-13, 1200 words, post-'first time'.

In the time it takes for Sam to roll over and burrow his head deeper under Dean's arm, lips brushing the soft skin of Dean's side in a butterfly kiss, Dean goes from mostly asleep to completely freaking out.

Sam is an octopus when asleep and it doesn't seem to matter how much Dean scoots and shuffles over the sticky bed sheets, he's still tangled up in Sam's long arms and legs. And Sam gets all whimpery and frowny the harder Dean tries to escape. He starts scooting and shuffling right along with Dean, until Dean ends up balanced precariously on the edge of the motel bed, just as wrapped up in Sam as he was when he woke.

By then, Dean is hyperventilating. There is a big loud INCEST siren sounding in his head that won't shut up and it's very hard to ignore when his baby brother is all naked and cuddly in the bed with him.

The Sunless Land by lyra_wing
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 11670 words, AU, first time, angst. Summary: High-school AU, in which Sam and Dean don't know each other. But, of course, not everything is what it seems.

Sam doesn't know why it's so easy to talk to Dean, not awkward at all, nothing like any first date Sam's ever been on. Does this even qualify as a date? And why the hell can't he stop thinking like a twelve-year-old girl around Dean?

Sam asks, "What about you?"

"Just me and my dad." Dean looks out the window, out at the parking lot, and his expression is unreadable when he adds, "I had a little brother once."

When more clarification doesn't come, Sam prompts, "Once?"

"Last time I saw him, he was six months old." Dean looks uncertain now, and he glances at Sam, as if he's wondering why he's telling Sam all this.

Sam suddenly feels like he should tread very carefully. He's walking into a minefield. "What… what happened?" Sam asks quietly.

At that, Dean seems to... shut down. His eyes get dark, guarded, and he mutters, "I don't know."

Fuck or Die by casspeach
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 9347 words, first time, angst.

It had never, in his entire life, occurred to Sam that he needed to be worried about Dean in the context of a succubus. Vampires, werewolves, demons, zombies, golems, restless ghosts, poltergeists, jilted women, jealous boyfriends and angry fathers, yes. Sexual demons that get their kicks from guys who can't or won't get laid? Not so much.

Sam was pretty sure that was why this got so far before he realized what was going on.

He and his brother have lived in close quarters for most of their adult lives so it wasn't like it was a new experience for Sam to wake in the night and realize that Dean was having one of those dreams. Apparently it was a doozy too. The sound of Dean and sex—asleep or awake, alone or with smuggled-in company—was the soundtrack to Sam's adolescence, and he was pretty much past finding it weird that it made him hard. He used to wonder sometimes, lying in his dorm room at Stanford, if any of his classmates had ever jerked off to the noise of their brother eating out the waitress from the diner down the street. He figured even those who had, ever, probably didn't still think about it. So much for his plans to be normal. Back in the present though, this was normal, standard, business-as-usual.

Leader of the Pack by astolat
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 14904 words, first time, angst, humour. Summary: The hellhounds were milling around her legs, almost high as her waist: pale white hides and red eyes, long red tongues lolling out between their stained teeth, all of them panting like the exhaust of an eighteen-wheeler and staring right at him.

"What the hell," Bobby growled, coming out of the house rubbing his eyes.

"He's got the goddamn hellhounds with him!" Dean said.

"I couldn't just leave them," Sam said.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because they're hellhounds, Dean!" Sam said. "What do you think they're gonna do if I let them loose? They keep trying—" He swallowed and looked down. "That's why I've had to—I can't control them without using the demon blood," he said after a moment. "They keep trying to go off hunting, so I have to—"

"Well, that's great," Bobby said. "How long do you think you can go stirring up demon blood inside you before you start turning into one, Sam? You keep this up—"

"What do you want me to do?" Sam said. "Just set them loose, open season on everyone? Hand them back to the crossroads demon so she can turn them on other people?"

One of the hellhounds yelped, hopefully. "Fuck," Dean said.

Harvest by astolat
Sam/Dean, PG, 1000 words, first time.

Sam woke up on a back road somewhere between Vermont and New York. It was October, and the air rushing into the windows smelled like crackly leaves and fireplaces. Dean had one hand on the wheel and the other resting along the window, humming soft to himself; the radio was off. Sam was still somewhere in that muzzy after-sleep haze, not ready to move yet. He just stayed where he was, slouched into the corner, and looked at Dean a while. Dean, alive and safe, with nothing more than a few thin white scars and a streak of gray at the temple, where the hellhound's claw had caught him.

consumed by either fire or fire by flambeau
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 3000 words, first time. Summary: How can we sleep when our beds are burning?

"It's personal," Sam said, and okay, well, that definitely explained the heavy breathing. Dean grinned. Then Sam's face changed. "It's really weird, though. It's like someone else is trying to get me to have, you know, those kinds of dreams, and they keep picking things out of my brain that are... wrong."

Dean sat back. "Oh, great. Didn't I check you for curses just two days ago?"

"I'm not cursed," Sam said.

"That's what I'm saying," Dean said. "So it's got to be something else. You picked up any new stuff recently, clothes, I dunno, a book? Jewelry? Or wait, I know, that chick at Dunkin Donuts was totally giving you the evil eye."

"I haven't been poisoned by a cursed donut, either," Sam said, and now he sounded downright snippy.

"How do you know?" Dean got up and paced across the room. "Could be anything." He turned around and stopped. "It could be the bed."

"Dean," Sam said, exasperated, and then he paused. "Actually, yeah, you could be right."

"I'm always right," Dean said. "Let's burn it."

Kinetics by sevenfists
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 1600 words, established relationship. A/N: [...] and wanted "Sam fucking Dean really hard and Dean begging for it."

It's not like Sam doesn't know what he's doing. He does. He knows what it means when Dean turns off the radio and drives in silence for miles, and he knows what to do about it. He knows what it means when Dean buys a microbrew instead of a six-pack of whatever's on sale.

He knows what it means when Dean drinks too much at a bar and starts hitting on the girl with the biggest tits and the fewest clothes, and he knows what to do about that, too.

"Come on," Sam murmurs, closing his hand around Dean's elbow. "It's time to go."

Dean makes a face, but manages to tear his eyes away from the girl's cleavage. "Ain't that late yet, Sammy," he says.

"I know," Sam says. He steps up behind Dean and curls his other hand around Dean's hip. "I didn't say it was late. I said it's time to go."

"Oh," Dean says. "Huh. Well." He drains his beer and salutes the girl with the empty bottle. "Nice meetin' you, uh."

Coast On Through by philalethia
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 7857 words, established relationship. Summary: A post-first-time fic. With a lot of sex.

Three weeks after Sam and Dean fuck for the first time, Dean spends the night with a woman he meets in a bar in Philadelphia. He catches Sam's eye from across the room, quirks one eyebrow, and Sam raises an eyebrow of his own and takes a sip of beer.

It doesn't bother Sam. Why should it? It's not like they're dating, not like they're in some exclusive relationship where Dean is the only person Sam can ever see himself loving or screwing or whatever. They're brothers. Sam figures dating your brother is too fucked up even for Winchesters.

The beer makes Sam more sleepy than he'd like, so he makes himself a pot of coffee when he gets back to the motel. The caffeine ends up keeping him awake all night. He watches infomercials and jerks off while George Foreman talks to him about grilling. Watching steaks cook reminds him of Dean, and then he's remembering the time he walked in on Dean fucking a pair of twins, the look on Dean's face, how Dean probably looks like that right now. Sam licks his fingers clean when he's done and is surprised to find that his come tastes really good on a coffee-burnt tongue.

When Dean comes back the next morning, he's got a hickey beneath his ear and a deep frown on his face.

anywhere except the mouth by sweetestdrain
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 1196 words, established relationship. A/N: is tentatively set in early-to-mid-season one.

For a moment, Dean remembers Sammy at fifteen, and it takes a glimpse of scarred skin and a well-muscled stomach for Dean to convince himself that any time has passed at all.

Sam grips Dean's forearms, not to stop him or direct him but just to have something to grasp. Dean knows where he's coming from, knows Sam's probably feeling that same tugging in his chest that drives Dean crazy, the kind that creeps up on you and pulls your heart out through your dick. Everything's too clear all of a sudden, means too much, and all Dean can do is keep pulling at Sam's cock and refuse to look him in the eye.

Sam lets out a strangled noise and folds forward, his mouth resting hot and open on Dean's forehead. Not really a kiss, but the exhalation of air makes Dean shiver, makes him light-headed. It's another couple seconds before he realizes his hand is wet with Sam's come. Sam is gripping his arms so tightly Dean knows he'll find bruises later.

Res Gestae by dreamlittleyo
Sam/Dean, Sam/f, R, 51271 words, first time, angst. Summary/AN: When Dean disappears on a hunt, the last thing Sam expects is the help of another psychic in trying to find him. The search doesn't go well, and when Dean walks back into his life, it's with news that tears the world out from under them both. And yeah, some het made it in here. I was surprised, too.

By day two Sam gives up all pretense of investigating the hunt and focuses everything he's got on being really goddamn freaked out about Dean. Because it’s been two days and he still isn’t answering the dozens of calls Sam has left him. By day three, Dean’s cell doesn’t even ring out before sending him to voicemail, and Sam is running out of places to look and people to question.

On day seven, Sam decides he’s had enough. He’s looked everywhere, torn the whole damn town apart in search of something resembling a trail, and he's got precisely jack squat. There’s nothing else he can do here, so he packs up the car and makes a new plan.

An ominous cloudbank has moved in by the time Sam checks out and throws the last of their gear in the trunk. He’s vibrating with seven straight days of panic, about to climb in the car, get his ass on the interstate and pray for the thousandth time that someone at the Roadhouse can tell him anything, when a shrill “Wait!” makes him freeze and turn.

He watches with eyebrows up to his scalp as a small, plain woman runs straight at him from across the parking lot. She looks like she’s barely legal to drink, young and worried beneath flopping bangs, a small duffel swinging wildly behind her as she moves.

Driving Down the Darkness by nutkin
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 40000 words, first time, angst. A coda to season one.

Dean turns the heater on after he claims his bed, and they listen to it thud warningly.

"You hungry?" he finally asks.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah?" Dean scrubs a hand over his face. He's looked pale for a week now, skittish like he's not quite sure what to do or say. "Am I starting to look like a hot dog yet? Dude, the last time you ate anything was yesterday afternoon. I know you want to keep your girlish figure, but you can't just starve."

They took the state of Nevada in one day; not bad for six hundred miles.

The last time he left California had been Christmas. He and Jessica flew to her grandparents' house in Houston. They had suitcases instead of duffel bags, shuffled in lines through mall-like airports and chewed gum to keep their ears from popping. It had been uneventful and fast, watching the state lines blur together below them. Nothing like the road, where you feel each one rattle through your bones. Jess had rested her head on his shoulder and kissed him, light and soft and in that way that made a quiet noise when they broke apart. Later, she'd fallen asleep right there, and he'd smiled down at her thick curls and then out the window.

"I'm fine," he says again, and flops face-down on the bed.

Bulletproof by smokeringhalos
Sam/Dean, NC-17, 1467 words, established relationship. Summary: Sam has three bulletproof kinks, and Dean has one of his own.

Sam has three absolutely bulletproof kinks. They're just about as girly as you'd expect. But since they make his dick hard, his brain stop, and can cut through any kind of resistance in a heartbeat, Dean really couldn't give a flying fuck how girly they are.

Maybe it's a little weird, okay it is a little weird, that he remembers exactly how he discovered each of them. It's no weirder than Sam remembering random shit about the early Christian church or obscure demon lore from a trip to the Cloisters in New York once a million years ago. If you ask him over a couple of drinks, he'll tell you it says a lot about them, what they have memories for. If you ask him over a few more, he'll tell you it doesn't mean shit, because Sammy never forgets anything they've done together. He just holds the memories different.

Anyway, he remembers he learned the first kink in Guthrie, Oklahoma, where they met Andy, before all hell broke loose. Sam was sitting on the sidewalk staring into the abyss, that's how Dean thinks of it, when you get to feeling like nothing you can do will ever be enough. If you let it get to you, you'll tip over the edge and never stop falling unless someone gives you a hand out.

4 AM. PEGGING ON MY MIND

Sun, 11 May 2008 00:58:35 GMT

This fandom seriously needs a fic in which Stella fucks VECCHIO with a strap-on. Dirty, DIRTY, very NC-17 PWP. I'm just saying.

*off to sleep*

Blackadder recs: series 4

Sat, 10 May 2008 15:49:20 GMT

"Blackadder Goes Forth" recs:

Back to the Front by bethbethbeth
Gen-ish, Blackadder, Melchett/George (implied), PG, 2650 words, humour. Summary: When Blackadder learns that General Melchett is about to return to London permanently, he borrows a leaf from Baldrick's book and comes up with a clever plan. Not surprisingly, things don't go quite as planned.

"I mean to say...working so closely with the General." The normally fatuous expression on George's face had metamorphosed into a combination of fatuous and wistful. "Bit of a family tradition, you know. Seeing to the General's needs."

"Is it?"

"Oh yes, Sir. Don't know if I ever mentioned this, but my Uncle William fagged for the General at Harrow. He was Mother's youngest brother. Just a wee thing when he went away to school, she told me, but apparently he was absolutely tenacious whenever there was a tight spot. Got stuck right in, she used to say."

Rabbitholes and Foxholes by mmulberry
Blackadder/Darling, PG-13, 1400 words, first time. Summary: Darling shares a secret with Blackadder.

Under the desk is safe, is warm, is cozy. Like a rabbit hole, not a foxhole. A little cave that can take you to a new place, that is all that is real until you wake, and you're where you were before the spell took hold. Darling's desk is big and broad, with flat top above and the safe place below. The safe place isn't just the knee well, it's in his arms in the darkness.

It all started in a raid. Blackadder was called by Melchett in confusion about a short back and sides, and stranded at Staff HQ when Driver Parkhurst's car broke down trying to find the real barber. The drone of planes and the high-pitched whine sent the two current occupants of the office diving for cover.

"I say Blackadder, this is my desk, go find your own cover."

Nostalgia by curtana
Gen, Blackadder, George, Baldrick, PG, 600 words, humour. Summary: The scent of spring.or something.is in the air!

"[...] So, George, somehow you are scenting spring in this rancid air?"

"I am, sir. And spring always makes me nostalgic for school."

"I didn't know it was physically possible to be nostalgic for school."

"Oh yes, sir! It's just the start of Trinity term, and that means cricket, lumpy porridge, fagging, caning..."

"In the unlikely event that we ever get leave again, lieutenant, I'll be sure to bring you to Mistress Mollie's in Cheapside. She can take care of most of that.... Perhaps not the porridge."

"It just wouldn't be the same without the porridge, sir."

No Man's Land by deralte
Blackadder/Darling, PG, 2400 words, first time. Summary: Edmund thought going over the top was the end.

He was surrounded by whizzing bullets; the pessimistic side of him was well satisfied when one slammed into his leg, causing him to stumble forward into an unseen crater. His landing was soft, mostly because there was someone else under him. Someone alive by the sound of their moaning.

"Get off!" he heard them protest. Ignoring the fire in his leg, Edmund rolled off the man - not because he had been feeling charitable, but because the soldier's gun had been digging into his chest.

"You might want to try pointing that revolver somewhere other than up," he said testily. He could have been shot - again.

"Didn't... know I still had... a gun," said a familiar voice.

After the Push by Kate (not Bob)
Blackadder/Flasheart, PG, 3600 words, pre-slash, angst.

We had exchanged blows, and then Flash had abruptly decided that this made me his best friend in the world. We'd gotten rat-arsed on a bottle of fine scotch he kept in his kite, and he had almost won me over by head-butting Darling---but then had immediately lapsed back into Arrogant Git mode. Seeing him approach now, I thought, Oh bloody hell. I'm dying. Go away.

"Have no fear, Flasheart's here!" he shouted. "Woof! Break out your booze,
boys, the--Oh, my God!"

To my vast astonishment, his ruddy face went fishbelly-white and he sank to his knees in the mud. Was that really an expensive silk aviator's scarf he was using the wipe the blood from my lips?

"Slackbladder, it's me--Flasheart." He said, in a voice completely different from his usual bellow. "Hang on. You're going to be all right."

I dragged in enough air to croak out, "It's...Blackadder...you..git..."

General Staff by mishamcm
Melchett/George, NC-17, 800 words, first time, humour. Summary: Bottoms up.

Melchett made his way around the desk as the Lieutenant entered, snapped sharply to attention, saluted, and announced, "Lieutenant the Honorable George Colthurst St. Banleigh reporting for duty, Sir!"

By the time George completed his name the General had completed the circumnavigation of his desk and returned the salute. "George, my boy! Good to see you! At ease, man, at ease."

George fluttered into a more relaxed posture. "Thank you, Sir. Splendiferous as always to see you again."

"And how goes the war in the trenches, George?"

"Excellent, Sir, couldn't be better. Giving old Gerry the right old boot, Sir."

Field Marshal by lakester
Gen, Blackadder, Baldrick, George, Darling, Melchett, PG, 5600 words, humour. Summary: Christmas eve 1914. Turnips, pigeons, footballs and cards.

German officer: Let me have it, Private. Ah, a note from the other side.

Trooper 2: Really, 'cos my grandmother died recently and she said she'd let wanted to know how her boy was doing.

German officer: No from the other, other side.

Trooper 1: Ah, the Allies.

German officer: It reads. 'Summons to a football bout. Evening. Approach like you be. No shooters. Transport your own grub/swig. P.S. Please send Bertie to Pte. S. Baldrick, 1945th, Allies, In a drain, Europe.' Football and a lack of grammar - must be the English.

Fast Away the Old Year Passes by Jimmy Jazz
Gen-ish, Blackadder/Darling, PG, 2200 words, pre-slash. Summary: On that famous Christmas eve of 1914 when singing crossed no mans land, Captain Kevin Darling was wearing wet trousers and an elf hat.

Blackadder switches to expression number two and looks cross. "Why are you standing out in this weather waiting for imaginary deserters in wet pants? You're about as likely to stop someone from running off as they are to be running off." He throws Darling's elf hat over the top of the trench.

Darling is about to respond as viciously as he knows how when they hear singing. Silence and singing.

"It isn't..." he says.

Blackadder cocks an ear. "It is. Give me a leg up, Darling."

Unwilling, but still curious, he does. If he calls him Darling again like that, he can always drop him and hope he hits his head.

The Further Adventures of the Gorgeous Georgina by youofwales
Melchett/George, PG, 9500 words, humour, AU, slight crossover with Jeeves&Wooster. A/N: Begins during the events of "Major Star", just after George has explained Melchett's nickname for him. Summary: What if Blackadder decided to take advantage of Melchett's attraction to Georgina?

“It’s a difficult task you’re undertaking, Lieutenant. Not just anyone can do this kind of undercover work. You’re not only helping your fellow soldiers escape from the bleak and desperate situation in which they now find themselves—you’re doing this for the noblest of reasons. King! Country!”

“Hurrah!” George cried, swept away by the patriotic feeling of it all. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, speaking from between his fingers. “Sorry, sir.”

Blackadder smiled benevolently. This was the best mood he’d been in for some time, George was sure. “It’s all right. Quite understandable given the circumstances. But you mustn’t call me sir anymore, Georgina.” He winked at George.

New dS master list

Tue, 06 May 2008 22:38:01 GMT

Hi, all. It's been what? Three weeks since I last posted? *crawls out from under a rock* Yeah. My news: new job is OK-ish, mostly; my dear relatives are fucking me in the brain; I'm depressed and freaking chirping birds, green grass, smiling people and spring in general irritate the hell out of me.

Anyway, back to fandom. New due South master list:

"fuck or die" fic (slash only)

Currently 22 stories (not counting sequels). What you’ll find there: stories in which some external forces (criminals, aliens, hypothermia, sex pollen, etc) compel the characters to have sex.

Enjoy! :)

Lists news + a tiny dS rec

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 21:19:35 GMT

Final (more or less) results of the "unusual format" list reorganisation:

- epistolary fic
- documentation!fic
- illustrated fic
- 'script form' fic
- poetry
- 'unusual format' fic (all the rest of the oddball fic *g*)

Also, have a wee due South rec. An excellent mood booster, satisfaction guaranteed in under 30 seconds:

Gluttony by shayheyred
Gen, Dief, Fraser, Kowalski, G, 100 words, humour.

The bestest Dief!fic EVER. Hysterically funny! :)

::Shinyboots, I want MORE--::

drive-by questions

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 22:01:45 GMT

Update on me: found new job, starting Monday; haven't read a single due South fic in almost 2 weeks, am busy with the suckage that is family problems; if you posted something that you think fits one of the lists - never fear, I still read f-list and bookmark all the stuff, so I'll add all the new fic to the lists next week (probably), after my monumental catch-up on reading.

ANYWAY.

I'm reorganising "unusual format" list and have several questions for you, guys:

1. Epistolary fic: told through the use of letters, journal entries, e-mails, notes, etc.
A "shopping list" story? Or, for example, Fraser making a list of pros and cons of hooking up with Ray? Would you consider it an epistolary fic?

2. There's a bunch of fic out there told through the use of images: comics, pic!fics, illustration!fic, etc. What collective name would you use for that kind of stories?

3. So far I have: epistolary fic, documentation!fic, that image thing fic, non-chronological fic.
I'm stuck on where to put stories like: various lists, fics in script form, quizzes, "Benton Fraser Operators manual", "Choose Your Own dS Porn Adventure", "Scrabble", "The Fraser Record (Excerpts)", etc.
Any ideas? Some other categories? Or do I just leave everything uncategorised as simply "unusual format"? Help me, oh wise f-list!

V's journal

Totally random due South recs

New wank! Kittens vs puppies! Join in! Politely! *rolls eyes*

Gardino slash list

Harry Potter recs

due South recs: rentboys ahoy!

House M.D. recs

A bunch of Yuletide recs

More dSSS recs

dSSS recs

New master list: dS/dS6D crossovers

This post is brought to you by depression, exhaustion and my stupid uterus

"A Bit of Fry and Laurie" FTW!

due South recs

Supernatural recs

Buffyverse recs

Hot Fuzz recs

due South recs

Meme + SGA recs

Supernatural recs

4 AM. PEGGING ON MY MIND

Blackadder recs: series 4

New dS master list

Lists news + a tiny dS rec

drive-by questions

New wank! Kittens vs puppies! Join in! Politely! rolls eyes