Four more, varying lengths, most long. And I mean *long*.
Keep Your Head Down by Kat Reitz and Tzigane
Clark College fic. Cute. Very, very cute. I have the same problem with the pacing, but I do like this interesting--concept--way much. A really good story.
Land of the Blind by Kat Reitz and Tzigane
Fucked up. And in a positive, good, cheering way of extreme wrongness. And I say with all my heart, I felt good about it. I mean, dirty. But good.
Family Portrait by Kat Reitz and Tzigane
Big AU, Lex as a semi-Kent. It works. Really well. It's long. Ten hour read, I think, but I didn't time myself either. But my legs did go numb and I dind't sleep at all Sunday night--ask anyone who saw me at work on Monday.
Nonstop to Nowhere by Kat Reitz and Tzigane
Big AU, Clark as a Luthor. The brother thing just never stops being hot, does it? No. Lionel's an ass. I'm particularly full of joy for the entire AU of what happened at the school. Cause there is too much pink in the world.
The same basic critics applies to all--it drags sometimes for me in some of the sections. But Lex's inner voice is hysterical. Hell, *Lex* is great, period, and so is Clark. Very *very* well drawn relationship, good solid stories, a hell of a lot of fun to read, as I have yet to close the SSA's search page because I keep thinking if I hit refresh enough, I'll get another story from them. Cause I am *that* enchanted.
And for something different.
Comme si de rien n'était by Jane St. Clair, ST:TNG/VOY
Picard/Paris slash. It's--really. Well. *Good*. And considering I can't think of Picard as a sexual creature at *all*--leave me alone on this one--wow. The hot. And the manipulative. And I love Tom Paris more than many kinds of chocolate. Not more than *all* kinds, but more than many. So you know. It's dirty desk sex.
In other news, Supervisor called us in to tell us that she *knows* she's been hard on us, and it's only going to get much, much worse, as The People Upstairs in HHSC are very disappointed in our performance. Because nothing stirs the troops like the faint hope of--no, wait, there was *nothing* in that meeting about hope. It was more a "maybe everyone should just quit, becuaes trust me, you can't *hope* to do all this that we'll be giving you to do."
Right. That was where I heard the word *hope*.
I am this close to not giving a damn. My zen place is coffee. And jeans. And possibly, Christmas, where I will decorate and completely lose myself in the season. All one day fo it, since we only get *one day off* for the entire season. Through New Year's. That's *it*.
Coffee. My zen place is *coffee* and Family Portrait.