February Recs Challenge, Day 16
Happy Friday, all. The Very Scary Thing I had to do for work this morning went okay, I suppose -- could've gone better, could've gone worse. I'm just glad it's over!
I'm a little more than halfway through this February recs challenge, and it's been interesting. I've never attempted to post every day like this before, and I have to admit that some nights I'd rather just sit and read fic rather than try to say something intelligent. ;-) But I'm definitely having fun going through all my old favorite fics to find something to rec every day.
For my own edification, the pairing tally so far:
Harry/Draco: 3
Remus/Sirius: 2
Gen: 2
Threesomes: 2 (1 slash, 1 het)
Other slash: 6
Today, we add to the gen total.
Six Acts/Infinity by fictionalaspect
Pairing: Harry, various others
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of blood/mild torture. AU-ish. Ambiguous references to character death.
Summary: There is no beginning and no end to the murmurs.
My Comments:
I always respect authors who are willing to experiment with writing styles outside their comfort zones, even if the resulting fics don't always work. This fic is an example of that, although for me it does work, particularly in the way the author uses mood and atmosphere and visceral detail.
The plot is a bit cryptic; without giving too much away, Harry is taking part in a magical ritual that involves a certain level of self-sacrifice. But this fic isn't really about the plot -- it's about the ritual itself, the heavy weight of it, its theatrical qualities, its sexual undertones.
I'll be the first to admit that I'm not positive exactly what happens at the end. (I do have my theories.) But I kind of like the uncertainty -- it left this fic lingering in my mind for a while after I finished it.
Excerpt:
There is no beginning and no end to the murmurs; only dry, brittle fragments of voices cracked and aching, tongues saw-dust dry and hurriedly re-wet. The voices sing a chorus of broken repentance, harmonizing like spring frogs buried in muck, awaiting the heavy glow of the summer sun.
Harry pulls on the bonds, feeling the lashes strain and pull at his skin, testing the safety of the mercurial strands that hold him firmly in place. The sweat drips hesitantly down his temple, as if even the tiny droplet is afraid of him. It burns the gashes in his pale skin and makes it crawl. His skin shivers in the heavy air.
Harry doesn’t look up, doesn’t flinch, and the murmurs grow louder. He is stretched out, pulled thin across the back of the stone, the awkward angle thrusting his fragile hips and bones towards the late August sky.
I'm a little more than halfway through this February recs challenge, and it's been interesting. I've never attempted to post every day like this before, and I have to admit that some nights I'd rather just sit and read fic rather than try to say something intelligent. ;-) But I'm definitely having fun going through all my old favorite fics to find something to rec every day.
For my own edification, the pairing tally so far:
Harry/Draco: 3
Remus/Sirius: 2
Gen: 2
Threesomes: 2 (1 slash, 1 het)
Other slash: 6
Today, we add to the gen total.
Six Acts/Infinity by fictionalaspect
Pairing: Harry, various others
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of blood/mild torture. AU-ish. Ambiguous references to character death.
Summary: There is no beginning and no end to the murmurs.
My Comments:
I always respect authors who are willing to experiment with writing styles outside their comfort zones, even if the resulting fics don't always work. This fic is an example of that, although for me it does work, particularly in the way the author uses mood and atmosphere and visceral detail.
The plot is a bit cryptic; without giving too much away, Harry is taking part in a magical ritual that involves a certain level of self-sacrifice. But this fic isn't really about the plot -- it's about the ritual itself, the heavy weight of it, its theatrical qualities, its sexual undertones.
I'll be the first to admit that I'm not positive exactly what happens at the end. (I do have my theories.) But I kind of like the uncertainty -- it left this fic lingering in my mind for a while after I finished it.
Excerpt:
There is no beginning and no end to the murmurs; only dry, brittle fragments of voices cracked and aching, tongues saw-dust dry and hurriedly re-wet. The voices sing a chorus of broken repentance, harmonizing like spring frogs buried in muck, awaiting the heavy glow of the summer sun.
Harry pulls on the bonds, feeling the lashes strain and pull at his skin, testing the safety of the mercurial strands that hold him firmly in place. The sweat drips hesitantly down his temple, as if even the tiny droplet is afraid of him. It burns the gashes in his pale skin and makes it crawl. His skin shivers in the heavy air.
Harry doesn’t look up, doesn’t flinch, and the murmurs grow louder. He is stretched out, pulled thin across the back of the stone, the awkward angle thrusting his fragile hips and bones towards the late August sky.