July 19th, 2005

lemming

(no subject)

I have discovered I can save myself a lot of stress archive-hopping by assuming that whatever story I click will involve mpreg tentacle sex and brace myself. Surprisingly, this makes pretty much three quarters of everything readable, even with wonton thing, the probate/prostrate/prostate thing, the prehensile thing, and the thing I can't talk about anymore becuase I always start crying.

Seriously, try it. You will find, nine times out of ten, you will really find you like the story. It's that tenth story that's the killer, really.

Things and Those

I started, strangely enough, to start thinking of my rec page and updating it with current fandoms. I started with Atlantis, since it's still fresh enough to remember where the stories are, and of course there can't be that many.

I said that then. I say now, after coding one hundred and ten recs, that wow, I kinda underestimated there. Harry Potter came in second, and I can't find my page of Smallville links, which means I may need to poach off of svmadelyn again to remember which ones I like. And I could swear I had some House ones somewhere, but hell if I can find them now. *sighs*

My fingers hurt. Also, my head hurts, becuase nothing would do but I *re-read half the stories I was reccing*. Anyway, hopefully have that done this weekend. I still have a few stray stories to chase down that I have to sadly summarize as "Well, the aliens made them have sex, and a bathtub was involved" and "the aliens made them have sex, but pollen was involved" and the classic "the aliens made them have sex, and there was so much bondage involved". Because I have discovered that aliens making people have sex is apparently second only to being well armed as Kink of the Millenium in jennland. Thank you God, flashfic, and Atlantis. That is so something I needed to know. No, really. THANK YOU.

You know, I don't do memes enough. Gakked from wearemany

1: Name your ten favourite titles from stories you've written (or, if you're not a writer, just name your ten favourite titles).

I'll go one better and tell you why.

Standing in the Common Spaces - Smallville/Spiderman the Movie, Lex Luthor/Peter Parker, Lex/Clark Kent, Peter/Mary Jane, some really strange Peter/Clark
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A Memory of Waking - Smallville, Clark/Lex
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On the Merits of Chicken to Soothe the Savage Beast - X-Men the Movie, AU, group
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On a Man and His Penis - X-Men the Movie, Logan/Rogue
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In Pursuit of a Sensation - Star Trek Voyager, Paris/Torres
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In a Thousand Miles - X-Men, Logan/Rogue
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In the Absence - Smallville, Lex Luthor/Lucas Dunleavy
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Don't Blink (Or You'll Miss it) - Queer as Folk, Brian
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Colder in My Skin - Queer as Folk, Justin, Brian/Justin, etc.
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Pretty When You're Mine - Smallville, Clark/Lex
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2: If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence/paragraph/whatever from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).

Like I don't whore myself out whenever possible.

"No. I can--" Clark pushes off the wall and almost holds his balance. A second upright, then he's stumbling, groping for purchase on smooth tile, and Lex is across the room, jerking the door open and catching Clark before he falls into the wall. Bones he can feel moving beneath his hands, black circled, bloodshot eyes, yellow skin as fragile as parchment, and that feeling again--that other Lex, who wants to tell him how this is done. We do *this*. We touch him and stroke him and comfort him. We bathe him and dress him and tell him how proud we are of him and then we fuck him. We tell him we love him and he believes it as much as we do.

--Landscape, Smallville, unposted

Clark wakes up with an unfamiliar grogginess, the kind that comes only after sleep, the real kind, the kind that lasts forever, rested everywhere, every muscle loose, feeling--God, good. So good. Good enough not to want to move, just lay there, surfacing by inches, first to the warmth of the bed beneath him, the heavy, unfamiliar bedclothes, the slide of fine cotton sheets against his skin at his first experiemental shift. So good. So *fucking* good.

--Pretty When You're Mine, Smallvlle, wip

Turning, sleek and sophisticated in dark blue wool and boots, she looks like exactly what she is--the smartest, most dangerous woman alive, watching him with the professionally blank expression of a journalist with an interviewee they can't stand. "Fourteen hours ago, someone leaked to Daniel that Lex Luthor has been caught engaged in a extramarital affair in the White House during a reception for the Prime Minister of Japan."

--Breathe Dust, Smallville, Somewhere'verse, unposted

This morning, they had a briefing, where Sheppard said nothing at great length and strapped on weapons with a degree of enthusiasm that Rodney found just a little creepy, and not a little hot. Hot in that way that fatigues, dress uniforms, and army issue boots become the height of sexy when that makes up the entire range of clothing choices for whoever you take to bed, and that, in a single sentence, is why Rodney hates the military. Midriff tops and short skirts, not to mention *jeans*, never hold a candle to a artistically unbuttoned uniform jacket these days. Hell, the closest he's come to seeing skin recently is the week the environmental controls went off and suddenly, everywhere, short sleeves, bare arms, and, for one glorious moment at the Atlantean three to five pm, boots shed, and God, *ankles*. Closest to sex, too, but that's not entirely new, just a continuing theme of working too often with too-small groups of too-many annoying people.

--These Things, Stargate Atlantis, unposted

He should be. He should be asleep in that frightful mound of military issue blankets and thinking that one day, he's going to wake up to discover Sheppard's stripped naked, gone native, and become one with nature, and God, Rodney can *imagine* hunting him down and talking him down off some kind of alien tree to abandon his stick-spear and rejoin civilization. Not to mention that he'll have to explain to Elizabeth how none of them managed to notice that Sheppard just might be on the edge of some kind of really spectacular, public kind of collapse.

--Sleeper, Stargate Atlantis, unposted

There are stupid things he misses. Not the obvious ones, really. He doesn’t miss coffee like he thought he would, and he doesn't miss television. He doesn't miss beds with sheets and interior plumbing and lights that turn on with a thought. Sleep. Fried food. His laptop. All those things he would kill to get back. All of those things he *has* killed to get back. And there's little chance he won't do it again.

It's just--not what he misses.


--Mirror, Stargate Atlantis, unposted