Two new members!
Welcome to taffetablue and deora-mystic! I apologise for the delay, but I have about one hour on line a day, these days.
So, without further ado, here are the fics that gained my attention. I also read others of theirs, so please go and read their earlier fics too.
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Direction (PG) by taffetablue -
A SB/RL fic and a beautifully written portrait of their post-school relationship, and very cleverly "illustrated" with polaroids too.
Ships coming into view on the horizon and a directionless dawn at sea; a slow rise, this business of falling in love. Remus tries to judge the time in thirty-six degree shadows and the number of times he thinks of Sirius in a day: forty-five; must be time for lunch, but all his precision falls short of accuracy in the face of such alarmingly large numbers. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, and he swallows them whole.
taffetablue was showcased on hp_spotlighting but if you get time go and read her other stuff too. I particularly liked Casualties of Movement (SB/RL) PG too - which is just as beautiful.
Two-Knut Cheap Trick Magic by deora_mystic (DM/HP, DM/LM) R Don't be put off by the title! An almost Tim Burton surreal little story of a Prince who grew up and didn't inherit his father's crown. Perfect.
Once upon a land there was a castle, a wizard, a prince, a devil.
Now, a flora based on blood and ashes is developing in the area. There are also graves - marble graves, covered-by-ivy graves, rusty graves - scattered on the land. Graves that shine with different colours at different times of the day, a real pleasure to see, honey to the blind eyes.
There’s also a tall man by a grave, rooted to the ground like a tender shoot and swaying in the pale breeze. He too shines differently at different times of the day - brilliant golden, tame auburn, frosty blue and even invisible on some nights. Same pleasure to same blind eyes that may feel the cool sting of the died-down magic or hear the hushed voices of the gone.
He wishes night or dawn would just come already because he’s growing sore with impatience. Still, he never sketches exhaustion or haste. He never covers his eyes, never blocks out the light. What if they were to come at exactly when he’s not looking?
No, he never rests, never brings magic back into the land. Never hopes for someone to just turn off the lights.
Welcome both of you - I hope you try the challenges!
So, without further ado, here are the fics that gained my attention. I also read others of theirs, so please go and read their earlier fics too.
.
Direction (PG) by taffetablue -
A SB/RL fic and a beautifully written portrait of their post-school relationship, and very cleverly "illustrated" with polaroids too.
Ships coming into view on the horizon and a directionless dawn at sea; a slow rise, this business of falling in love. Remus tries to judge the time in thirty-six degree shadows and the number of times he thinks of Sirius in a day: forty-five; must be time for lunch, but all his precision falls short of accuracy in the face of such alarmingly large numbers. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, and he swallows them whole.
taffetablue was showcased on hp_spotlighting but if you get time go and read her other stuff too. I particularly liked Casualties of Movement (SB/RL) PG too - which is just as beautiful.
Two-Knut Cheap Trick Magic by deora_mystic (DM/HP, DM/LM) R Don't be put off by the title! An almost Tim Burton surreal little story of a Prince who grew up and didn't inherit his father's crown. Perfect.
Once upon a land there was a castle, a wizard, a prince, a devil.
Now, a flora based on blood and ashes is developing in the area. There are also graves - marble graves, covered-by-ivy graves, rusty graves - scattered on the land. Graves that shine with different colours at different times of the day, a real pleasure to see, honey to the blind eyes.
There’s also a tall man by a grave, rooted to the ground like a tender shoot and swaying in the pale breeze. He too shines differently at different times of the day - brilliant golden, tame auburn, frosty blue and even invisible on some nights. Same pleasure to same blind eyes that may feel the cool sting of the died-down magic or hear the hushed voices of the gone.
He wishes night or dawn would just come already because he’s growing sore with impatience. Still, he never sketches exhaustion or haste. He never covers his eyes, never blocks out the light. What if they were to come at exactly when he’s not looking?
No, he never rests, never brings magic back into the land. Never hopes for someone to just turn off the lights.
Welcome both of you - I hope you try the challenges!