As you've probably noticed, this journal is obsolete now. I still get emails from it, so feel free to alert me to broken links or tell me if you liked a fic, but it won't be updated.
I still rec at my main journal, surexit
, although not exclusively. ♥ to all of you.
] by celli
Broken air conditioning and beer and sex. "There is some law of physics," Dan said, "that requires your air conditioning to die on the hottest days of the summer."
"There is?" Casey asked.
"And whose law is it that you have to come over and share my lack of air-conditioning with me, instead of staying home and broiling in your own place? Rydell's Law of Misery Loving Company?"
"McCall's Law of Good Housekeeping." Dan turned until he was nose-to-nose with Casey on the tile floor. "You keep your kitchen cleaner--much cleaner--than I do. Can I have a beer?"
] by Todesengel
I find Alec quite a difficult character a lot of the time, but he is a lot easier to love in this story. Beautifully written.There was blood on his boots. Dark, wet blotches on the worn leather, like ink carelessly dripped onto a page. Absurdly enough Alec found his attention focused entirely on this fact, ignoring the body on the ground and the giddy thundering of his heart. He found himself annoyed and when Richard came back from cleaning off his sword, he said "I do wish you'd be more careful, Richard. You've gotten blood on my boots and you know that I'll never be able to get it out; and these were nearly new."
Richard shrugged. "Give them to Marie. Besides, it's hardly noticeable."
Alec hmmed quietly to himself and stared at his boots and that led his eyes, quite naturally, from the spray of blood to the body. He stared, hard, and his skin felt tight and strange, blood roaring like sex, like the drugs. The world tasted like glass on his tongue, like crystal -- cool and sharp and brilliant, prismed, faceted.
[The Scene Isn't What It's Been
] by skoosiepants
Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas.
Tour dating! Adorable tour dating, makes me laugh and go all heart-eyes.Kevin’s got a can of soda in one hand, and he’s trying to look as small as possible, leaning back against the bus kitchenette wall – there’s enough people there that everyone’s spilling out into the lot, and Kevin’s seriously considering a retreat. Bill’ll never even notice he’s gone.
Kevin glances towards the door, and when turns back around, the shirtless guy is right in front of him, still staring, and the parrot squawks, “Pete’s a douche!” and Kevin presses back against the wall as hard as he can; he’s never been a big fan of birds.
“Uh.” It is very clear to Kevin, now that the guy is practically on top of him, that the guy is Bill’s very own Mike Carden and that he’s very, very drunk. “You, um, cut your hair.”
[I See You Left Your Blinker On
] by reliablemachine
Backseat car sex, and a nice sharp Arthur voice.Arthur's not entirely blaming Eames for how completely chaotic everything is right now, but if he hadn't changed his mind at the last second about what hair colour he thought the mark liked best, maybe a waiter projection wouldn't have noticed the tall, slender blonde becoming a tall, slender redhead mid-stride, and then maybe Arthur's path of escape he'd so carefully plotted out wouldn't have been blocked by seven restaurant security guards without warning (and really, since when do restaurants, even dream restaurants, have security guards?).
What he's really saying is that hindsight is 20/20 and that Eames's fickle-mindedness may or may not be the reason Arthur is currently vaulting over a chain link fence in waking life, in an attempt to outrun the three very real security guards who showed up when their mark started screaming.
[Playing A Poor Hand Well
] by steals_thyme
Dan loses everything and has to stay with Rorshach - the interplay between the two of them is intricate and complicated and really well-written.Rorschach has become very still, inkblots drifting slowly between different pseudo-expressions, all of them stern. The kitchen is quiet save for the clock ticking and the periodic gurgle of the coffee percolator. "Can show you how," he says finally.
Dan can usually follow the lateral thinking and occasional disconnect, but he's perplexed this time. "Huh?"
"How to survive," Rorschach clarifies. He stiffens, squaring his shoulders, inscrutable gaze fixed somewhere over Dan's right shoulder. "Can stay. At my place. If you like."
] by toft_froggy
This is charming and a little heart-breaking."Titus Pomponius," he says. His hand is strong and sweaty, and he has fine hairs coming in at the sides of his cheek and chin; he must be several years older than Marcus. "Isn't often I see anyone civilized sitting on the top of a carriage."
Marcus glows, and is momentarily flustered by the overt friendliness. Perhaps, he thinks, the boy has mistaken him for someone older. "Marcus Tullius Cicero, it's lovely to meet you," he blurts out, feeling angry at himself for being so gauche.
[Most Likely To
] by kaneko
This is just a really lovely fic, and it made me smiley and happy.High-school gossip peaked sometime between middle school and graduation. Around the ten-year-reunion mark there was a second, smaller spike during which complex sums were worked out (receding hairline -2; law school +1; appearance on Wheel of Fortune +3) to create a whole new map of failure and success. After that, though - after the reunion - you were pretty much listening to dead air.
] by bravecows
I feel like this is the fic that I've wanted since I read the Psmith books. I mean, I didn't know that I wanted it, because I was very small at the time. (Mike and Psmith were probably my first ever OTP, and I had no idea that that was what they were.) But if I had been aware of what I wanted, this would have been it. It's absolutely amazing. The Wodehousian dialogue is a sparkling example of absolute perfection in the field, and the characterisation is beautiful. Overall, it's a beautifully formed little gem.Exertion always made Psmith chatty. Where others, having acted and braved and done, rolled over onto their sides and got down to the serious business of having their forty winks with no further ado, Psmith settled back and pondered Life. Not for him the drooping eyelid, the whiffling snore, the foetal curl into the bedclothes. The pillow was to Psmith as the Clapham Common platform to the working Socialist.
[Get Together Now
] by softlforgotten
A really adorable bit of high schoolness - I love baby!BFF!Ryan&Spencer.Spencer wheezed, but Ryan was fairly confident it was all an act. Ryan didn't weigh enough for Spencer to get grumpy about Ryan being sprawled out on his back like this, so he just tucked his head over Spencer's shoulder and nuzzled at the side of Spencer's face for a moment until Spencer stopped being grumpy. Spencer was a pretty awesome best friend, and Ryan wasn't a very good one at all. He'd been reliably informed, though – by Alex and Z, who knew their stuff – that part of friendship was cuddling. Ryan was doing his best.Hiiiiii. I have 55 thousand million bandom recs to work my way through, since rather than actually cataloguing them I've just been saving them to my delicious under the tag 'rec'. So I don't know when or if they'll see the light of day. Maybe now! Maybe next year! Maybe never!
[Remember What You Started With (It Was Nothing At All
] by dimmingdivine
There's something very beautiful about this fic, full of warmth and love even when things are going wrong. It's perfectly measured and paced, and the writing is lyrical.Later, with streetlights flickering vaguely through the window and a dusky strip of sunrise creeping up from beneath the trees, Ian fusses stiffly and stretches ‘til he can rest his pillow on Marshall’s thighs, setting his head down gently so as to keep from waking him.
Ian is wide awake and uncomfortable, and kind of pissed that Singer had weaseled his way into the back when Sonny and Johnson got up to drive, and he envies the fact that Marshall has somehow drifted off as much as he kind of wishes Marshall was awake to keep him company. Maybe he's up after all, because Ian exhales a quiet sigh and then Marshall’s fingers are threaded loosely in his curls, working absently through the tangled strands. He whispers, “Shh, rest,” when Ian takes a breath to mumble gratefully (apologetically) into his knee.
Ian still can’t fall asleep, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t that much easier to close his eyes.
[L.A. Made Me
] by smithereen
Gorgeous, Adam and Joe are both very sweet and lovely and it's also hot like burning.Lisa gives Joe this look right when they walk up to the table where her friends are waiting in the closed off VIP area at the back of the club, like she isn't sure if Joe's going to be freaked out or something. Which okay, Joe doesn't know that many guys who wear as much make-up as her friend Adam is wearing. There's a difference between TV make-up and the smeared eyeliner Adam has on, the thick eye-shadow that looks black until the light hits it just right, and then it looks blue. His hair is like five feet tall with this electric blue chunk right in the front of it. And he's wearing this crazy leather jacket with spikes and stuff on the shoulders, and this metal fringey stuff on the sleeves that Joe instantly wants to touch. He doesn't dress like anyone Joe's ever sat down and had a conversation with. Not in a bad way. Joe kind of thinks it's awesome. He looks like he's about to go somewhere really exciting, like he's dressed up to go somewhere imaginary right after he leaves here.
"Hello, Pretty," Adam says as he stands up. He's really tall. He looks Joe over as he shakes Joe's hand, slowly, like he doesn't care if Joe notices him looking.
] by snakevsladder
So amazing, and so sad.Pete doesn't know Frank as well as he knows a lot of people but he's always thought of him as a pretty cool guy: energetic, enthusiastic, eager. An easy to get along with kind of guy. Friendly.
Frank doesn't look quite so friendly right now.
He'd called Pete up out of the blue and suggested they go to a bar, hang out, catch up, bands and business; Pete remembers thinking it was sort of odd, because Patrick's living with Bob at the moment, and their bands are pretty intertwined during all this recording. Frank had seemed cool enough at the beginning of their rendezvous though, chatting away about Skeleton Crew and Clandestine and the bands and the crazy fan stories that Pete's mostly already heard from Mikey; but then, now, on their third beer each, Frank turns to Pete, fixes him with a steady stare and turns the talk right around to Mikey himself.
[Summer Into Dust
] by paloma_cayendo
Gorgeous, fluffy and fabulous, written with an assured lyricism.When they were getting dressed in their adjacent stalls, Pete realized with a shock his hoodie was gone - and then, when he stepped out, still pulling his shoes on, he saw Mikey snuggling his chin into it. "Hey," Pete said, feeling a lot less offended than he sounded. "That's mine, you dick." Mikey beamed and tucked his hands into the pockets, and the black was startling and vibrant against his jawline, enough to make Pete's back tense up in a way that was painful.
"I'm borrowing it," Mikey said. He looked natural in it. Pete wanted to complain but he didn't.
And it was the way he stood in it that convinced Pete, once and for all. It was the first time Mikey had worn Pete's clothes but the air around him crackled with confidence in a way that said, this will not be the last time. When Mikey took out his cell to check his messages, he put it back not into his jeans pocket, but the hoodie pocket. Pete thought it might've been sexual, in a way. The casualness radiating off Mikey in even, strong waves. It certainly felt that way - sinking into his bones and making him want to throw his arm around Mikey's shoulders.
[The True Story Of What Never Happened
] by airgiodslv
Oh God, I normally avoid 'X discovers fanfiction' stories like the plague, but Peeeete compelled me to read this. And it's fantastic, wicked sharp and hilarious.Pete grins and squashes himself onto the couch next to Patrick, taking up an awful lot of room for someone with basically no ass. “I wrote something. Wanna read?”
“Sure.” He’s expecting lyrics, or musings on the meaning of life and the empty existence of humanity in the universe, or possibly a dirty limerick rhyming Joe Troh with blow a ho, but what he gets instead is a short story. His brow wrinkles. “You…wrote up the story of us going to the diner for cheese fries last week?”
“Yes, but pretend like you don’t know we did that.” Pete’s still grinning; that many teeth on display makes Patrick wary. “It’s a good story, right?”
[Hell Yeah I'm The Motherfucking Princess
] and [You Can Stand Under My Umbrella
] by impertinence
Fantastic fairy tales, hilarious and awesome.Before Pete could splutter any death threats, another voice spoke from the depths of the cave. "Frank," it said, sounding almost ridiculously sardonic, "what have I told you about insulting the guests?"
"Do it all I like since they're never real?" Frank grinned and slid down Mikey's back again, wrapping his arms around the other speaker.
"Frank? As in, the thief Frank? Prince Gerard's lover?" Pete's eyes widened. "You're the one I was going to buy the penises from!"
Maybe, he thought desperately as all eyes focused on him, maybe he could just conquer the Ramen Kingdoms through the power of cripplingly embarrassing silences.
[Moving To Hong Kong On Business
] by pearl_o
Sort of melancholy but not grim, and with an edge of sweetness.Pete could admit, in retrospect, that it had probably been a stupid idea. Pete was used to having stupid ideas, though, and this one wasn't even in the top ten. Because even if it was dumb, it was a pretty harmless type of dumb, not something that affected his life much at all.
It wasn't a big deal, was the thing, and it had been a couple of weeks since the last time Pete had bothered to stop and think about it when he got the call from Mikey.
He sat straight up in his chair, beaming, at the sound of Mikey's voice. "Hey, Mikey, what's up?"
Mikey said, his voice completely flat, "Kiddo, I need a divorce."
[How To Get Gerard To Fuck Frank In The Morning
] by fluffontop
Canonically implausible morning sex, and it's fantastic established relationship porn."C-coffee," Gerard says.
"Orgasms first," Frank pants a little from the effort of holding on to Gerard. Determinedly, he slides a hand down the front of Gerard's fuzzy and kind of sweaty pajama pants. "Come on, don't tell me you want coffee more than a blowjob right now?"
"C-coffee," Gerard says again. Gerard is as hard as Frank is, it's just that he looks more annoyed than excited. His eyes are unfocused and his hands are shaking slightly, and his mouth is curled into a sour, sort of dangerous expression.
"In a minutes," Frank promises, "I just want to tell you about this nice dream I had," he starts, seductively, but then Gerard's elbow makes contact with his stomach, making him go "omph," instead, "Gerard, come on."
[The One Where They're All... Ducks?
] by sunsetmog
Pete/Mikey, Frank/Gerard. But honestly, they're ducks. So it's relatively irrelevant.
AMAZING. I can just picture their little ducky faces.Gerard swam backwards sometimes, just because he could.
He would be careering down the middle of the lake, backwards, and he would be shouting out to the other ducks, Sometimes it's okay to want to swim backwards. Sometimes it just has to be about what makes you feel good. Just remember it isn't wrong to want to swim backwards!
Ray used to think he was messing around. When he realised Gerard was genuine in his desire for all the ducks to embrace their inner swimming orientation, he stopped rolling his eyes and just started swimming closer to Gerard and Mikey, in their slipstream. Sometimes he swam backwards too, but he preferred seeing where he was going rather than where he was coming from. And he wasn't as good as Gerard at figuring out reversing, and had crashed into Gerard bottom-first on more than one occasion. It left him feeling uncomfortable, but Gerard had taken him under his wing and just said it's okay to swim forwards too, you know.
Mikey sometimes swam sideways, just because.
[The Long & Winding Road
] by snakevsladder
This is set in an almost contextless space, a fascinating storytelling technique that really works here. It also features a unicorn. Awesomecakes.Gerard and Mikey fall victim to that last one there; they have a pretty okay life, and then for a while they have a pretty not okay one. It reminds Mikey a lot of the time when he was five and tripped over something and broke his glasses and for a while the world was blurry and confusing and he wasn't sure what was going on, because even though he can see fine this time, the world is still pretty confusing, and he's not entirely sure what is going on a lot of the time. Gerard makes up metaphors, sometimes, to make it easier, and because they make Mikey smile. They're walking down a road, a long one: it's dark and there are cracks they have to not trip over and shadows lurking around that they have to avoid, but pretty soon the happy ending's going to come into sight.
"You'll spot it first, probably," Gerard says one time. "The glasses probably mean you can see better than I can."