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Jan. 10th, 2006 11:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyOkay, this is an update for the benefit of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
midnight_violet, AKA Jock Jock, who seems far more susceptible to corruption than Smaller to have good taste, and therefore might possibly be interested in the phenomenon of fanfiction; might, in fact, be a potential slasher.
*steeples fingers*
Eeeeeeexcellent.
A few recommendations, then, of stories that to me run very close to canon, exercise very good characterisation, and possibly have hints of slashy goodness (how did that happen? *looks angelic*)
Oh, and a couple of things by me. For no good reason.
A couple of these things I've mentioned before, so I'll just paste the recs again, save overstretching my brain. XD
Good Omens
City of Angels by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
bravecows
Crowley/Aziraphael, PG-13
A crossover with Neil Gaiman's "Murder Mysteries", which can be found in "Smoke and Mirrors", but it's not necessary to have read it to understand this fic. A little fic from before Crowley "sauntered vaguely downward" which helps you understand both Aziraphael and Crowley much better. It hints rather than states, and what it hints at is heartbreaking in the implications. I adore this fic.
Aziraphale brightened.
"But I don't really think of it as demotion," he said. "After all, I have been given a wonderful opportunity to work on Books. You know, I think it's going to be quite important. Nothing on the scale of Love or Inspiration, of course, but Books are going to be much more important than mere records of other things. They will become a part of History -- maybe you've heard of History? It's quite a new concept. Very important. I believe Books will play quite an instrumental part in it. They will transcend their original purpose."
"And," he added, "they'll look very nice when they're all lined up neatly, too."
~~edited to add that I love this story all the more now that Raguel is brilliantly played byunravels over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
milliways_bar. I'm perfectly happy to admit to shallowness.
Falling Rain byariastar
Crowley/Aziraphale, mildly PG
This story is one I'd recommend to anyone entering the fandom, because it's a perfect complement to canon. It just fits, and makes me happy, and is so well characterised. Definitely take a look at this one, love.
A blessed horse. He’d never gotten on with horses. And they had hooves – rather big hooves that could easily crush his body. While that would take care of the getting-recalled-to-Hell problem, Crowley hadn’t particularly wanted to go back to Hell in the first place. Even when the alternative was stowing away on some creaky little boat. Besides, dying was so messy. Crowley hissed.
The horse seemed affronted by this. It whickered and took a step closer to him.
“Get away!” Crowley hissed at it, using words this time. “Bad horse! Bad!”
“Oh dear,” said a voice from the doorway. “I was rather thinking the animals might not all get along. Come here, my dear. I’ve got some hay for you …”
The horse immediately lost interest in Crowley and trotted off towards Aziraphale, who was standing in the door, his arms full of hay and a very kind smile on his face.
Crowley curled further into the shadows. Thrice blessed stupid angel. He’d probably sent the idiotic horse over on purpose.
Having finished depositing the hay in a convenient trough, the angel wandered nearer to his corner. Crowley briefly entertained thoughts of what might happen if he bit the angel’s stupid sandaled foot.
Discorporate by me.
A/C, PG.
Don't worry, it's short.
There had been a slight incident with a pterodactyl.
As far as he’d been able to hear, before everything had faded to a rather painful black, the man at the Museum had been terribly apologetic, which he had been rather pleased about. It was nice to know that standards were being maintained in some small way. It was small comfort, however, as he sat in the Waiting Room.
Or, at least, he would have been sitting, had he had a body. That was rather the point of the exercise.
Harry Potter
Deus Ex Machina by Silvia
H/D, PG-13
(Oh my GOD I FOUND IT AGAIN! I have been looking for this damned thing FOREVER!)
Such a funny story, it literally had my crying with laughter. Draco decides that the best way to defeat Harry Potter is to write an epic poem. Yes, it really is that silly. Yes, you really should read it.
Draco mildly returned his gaze. "Have you ever considered that it's not always me putting everyone up to everything?
"No," Ron stated emphatically. "Because it is."
"Perhaps it's simply your irresistible cheery disposition."
"..."
"Maybe he's simply a small yellow flower, and you are the sun towards which he turns."
"..."
"There are no words that describe the depth of my hate for you," Ron said.
"Wait, can you repeat that? " Draco said excitedly, feeling about his pockets, "I'm going to write that one down."
The Children bycopperbadge
No pairings, gen
A post-war angst-fest that makes me cry every single time I read it. It's so subtle- frequently sad stories feel manipulative, feel like the author is deliberately pushing you toward a certain feeling, but this fic is just beautiful and heartbreaking, and made me like Draco, which is rare.
"Do you know what they call us?" Draco asked. "I expect you do, you're out
in the world more often than I am -- "
"Call us?"
"Yes. Their name for us. Like the Boy who Lived. The Dark Lord. People
always have to /name/ things."
He could sense her surprise. "No, I didn't know we...had a name."
"They call us the Children. Because we're still only kids, don't you see.
The Children who fought Voldemort and won."
Autumn Showers by me
Remus/Sirius, PG
Again, very short, and kinda melancholy.
Remus' life, he had once decided, could be separated neatly into stages by his relationship with umbrellas.
Due South
Bar None bycesperanza
Fraser/Kowalski, PG-13
Because you cannot rec Due South without reccing Speranza. It's kinda impossible. This'd be one of the less explicit of her stories, and I can't remember which others are because head injury, so. This one it is. XD
The man was settled comfortably into the sofa next to her, his hands loosely laced over the front of his pale blue sweater. His hair was dark and slightly messy, his face fixed in an expectant expression as he leaned closer to the lady, head cocked and obviously trying to tune his ear to her voice.
It was Fraser, and Ray felt the floor kind of reel underneath him, because he would never, ever have recognized him in this crowd. He'd been looking for red serge and a military posture, and the guy sitting across from him didn't have either.
Hell, Ray would have bet that Fraser's spine didn't even bend like that.
Reference byresonant8
F/K, PG
Another author, another no-brainer. Resonant writes gorgeous F/K - mostly NC-17, admittedly, but I have no doubt you'll be reading her stuff in no time at all.
*grins evilly*
As you say." Fraser tipped his head sharply to one side, then to the other. His neck made unsettling cracking noises. "Perhaps we should pursue other sources of information, since this one isn't proving very useful."
"Yeah, good idea, Fraser. Next time try having those good ideas before my eyeballs shrivel up, OK?" When he stood up, his chest felt tight from hunching over the machine. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward, lifting his arms as far as he could. "Jeez, I hate libraries."
And, as a final rec, Recs by KindKit of smutless stories, all of which I read, all of which I enjoyed.
I hope you find something in there to suit, lady. :)
midnight_violet, AKA Jock Jock, who seems *steeples fingers*
Eeeeeeexcellent.
A few recommendations, then, of stories that to me run very close to canon, exercise very good characterisation, and possibly have hints of slashy goodness (how did that happen? *looks angelic*)
Oh, and a couple of things by me. For no good reason.
A couple of these things I've mentioned before, so I'll just paste the recs again, save overstretching my brain. XD
Good Omens
City of Angels by
bravecowsCrowley/Aziraphael, PG-13
A crossover with Neil Gaiman's "Murder Mysteries", which can be found in "Smoke and Mirrors", but it's not necessary to have read it to understand this fic. A little fic from before Crowley "sauntered vaguely downward" which helps you understand both Aziraphael and Crowley much better. It hints rather than states, and what it hints at is heartbreaking in the implications. I adore this fic.
Aziraphale brightened.
"But I don't really think of it as demotion," he said. "After all, I have been given a wonderful opportunity to work on Books. You know, I think it's going to be quite important. Nothing on the scale of Love or Inspiration, of course, but Books are going to be much more important than mere records of other things. They will become a part of History -- maybe you've heard of History? It's quite a new concept. Very important. I believe Books will play quite an instrumental part in it. They will transcend their original purpose."
"And," he added, "they'll look very nice when they're all lined up neatly, too."
~~edited to add that I love this story all the more now that Raguel is brilliantly played by
unravels over at milliways_bar. I'm perfectly happy to admit to shallowness.Falling Rain by
ariastarCrowley/Aziraphale, mildly PG
This story is one I'd recommend to anyone entering the fandom, because it's a perfect complement to canon. It just fits, and makes me happy, and is so well characterised. Definitely take a look at this one, love.
A blessed horse. He’d never gotten on with horses. And they had hooves – rather big hooves that could easily crush his body. While that would take care of the getting-recalled-to-Hell problem, Crowley hadn’t particularly wanted to go back to Hell in the first place. Even when the alternative was stowing away on some creaky little boat. Besides, dying was so messy. Crowley hissed.
The horse seemed affronted by this. It whickered and took a step closer to him.
“Get away!” Crowley hissed at it, using words this time. “Bad horse! Bad!”
“Oh dear,” said a voice from the doorway. “I was rather thinking the animals might not all get along. Come here, my dear. I’ve got some hay for you …”
The horse immediately lost interest in Crowley and trotted off towards Aziraphale, who was standing in the door, his arms full of hay and a very kind smile on his face.
Crowley curled further into the shadows. Thrice blessed stupid angel. He’d probably sent the idiotic horse over on purpose.
Having finished depositing the hay in a convenient trough, the angel wandered nearer to his corner. Crowley briefly entertained thoughts of what might happen if he bit the angel’s stupid sandaled foot.
Discorporate by me.
A/C, PG.
Don't worry, it's short.
There had been a slight incident with a pterodactyl.
As far as he’d been able to hear, before everything had faded to a rather painful black, the man at the Museum had been terribly apologetic, which he had been rather pleased about. It was nice to know that standards were being maintained in some small way. It was small comfort, however, as he sat in the Waiting Room.
Or, at least, he would have been sitting, had he had a body. That was rather the point of the exercise.
Harry Potter
Deus Ex Machina by Silvia
H/D, PG-13
(Oh my GOD I FOUND IT AGAIN! I have been looking for this damned thing FOREVER!)
Such a funny story, it literally had my crying with laughter. Draco decides that the best way to defeat Harry Potter is to write an epic poem. Yes, it really is that silly. Yes, you really should read it.
Draco mildly returned his gaze. "Have you ever considered that it's not always me putting everyone up to everything?
"No," Ron stated emphatically. "Because it is."
"Perhaps it's simply your irresistible cheery disposition."
"..."
"Maybe he's simply a small yellow flower, and you are the sun towards which he turns."
"..."
"There are no words that describe the depth of my hate for you," Ron said.
"Wait, can you repeat that? " Draco said excitedly, feeling about his pockets, "I'm going to write that one down."
The Children by
copperbadgeNo pairings, gen
A post-war angst-fest that makes me cry every single time I read it. It's so subtle- frequently sad stories feel manipulative, feel like the author is deliberately pushing you toward a certain feeling, but this fic is just beautiful and heartbreaking, and made me like Draco, which is rare.
"Do you know what they call us?" Draco asked. "I expect you do, you're out
in the world more often than I am -- "
"Call us?"
"Yes. Their name for us. Like the Boy who Lived. The Dark Lord. People
always have to /name/ things."
He could sense her surprise. "No, I didn't know we...had a name."
"They call us the Children. Because we're still only kids, don't you see.
The Children who fought Voldemort and won."
Autumn Showers by me
Remus/Sirius, PG
Again, very short, and kinda melancholy.
Remus' life, he had once decided, could be separated neatly into stages by his relationship with umbrellas.
Due South
Bar None by
cesperanzaFraser/Kowalski, PG-13
Because you cannot rec Due South without reccing Speranza. It's kinda impossible. This'd be one of the less explicit of her stories, and I can't remember which others are because head injury, so. This one it is. XD
The man was settled comfortably into the sofa next to her, his hands loosely laced over the front of his pale blue sweater. His hair was dark and slightly messy, his face fixed in an expectant expression as he leaned closer to the lady, head cocked and obviously trying to tune his ear to her voice.
It was Fraser, and Ray felt the floor kind of reel underneath him, because he would never, ever have recognized him in this crowd. He'd been looking for red serge and a military posture, and the guy sitting across from him didn't have either.
Hell, Ray would have bet that Fraser's spine didn't even bend like that.
Reference by
resonant8F/K, PG
Another author, another no-brainer. Resonant writes gorgeous F/K - mostly NC-17, admittedly, but I have no doubt you'll be reading her stuff in no time at all.
*grins evilly*
As you say." Fraser tipped his head sharply to one side, then to the other. His neck made unsettling cracking noises. "Perhaps we should pursue other sources of information, since this one isn't proving very useful."
"Yeah, good idea, Fraser. Next time try having those good ideas before my eyeballs shrivel up, OK?" When he stood up, his chest felt tight from hunching over the machine. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward, lifting his arms as far as he could. "Jeez, I hate libraries."
And, as a final rec, Recs by KindKit of smutless stories, all of which I read, all of which I enjoyed.
I hope you find something in there to suit, lady. :)
