So I'm working on my i_reversebang. I got paired with a mind-bogglingly beautiful piece of artwork. It's actually one of my favorite fanvids of all time (no pressure, none at all, nope, nada, zilch, my fic will absolutely measure up) ... I'm not too big a fan of genre of fanvids because I have no experience in sifting through for the nuggets of fandom gold like I do with fanfic. I've been sifting through fanfic since I was pre-pubescent, you know. I knows how to sift that shiznit.
So I'm 3k+ into the fic for this. Have a snippet. “I wouldn’t be able to tell,” Mal said to Eames, running a hand through his hair, “you could tell me lies about your name now and I wouldn’t know because I never actually knew, not when it was real-“
“It’s real now, Mal,” Eames said, pulling her hand out of his hair. “It’s real right now.”
She bit the corner of her lip. It looked like half a smile, severed and mangled beyond recognition.
“-what is your name, though, the one for now?” she asked. “I wonder if it’s the same because I think of you with that name, not the one that-“
He tried to laugh, to make it lighter. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, right? Really, what’s in a name?”
His smile was forced, hers wasn’t even a smile anymore, and there was too much silence in the room.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I don’t-“
Now for a rec or two! ☆ I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't publicize this wonderfuliciousness of wonderfulosity ASAP: sweet on you by moogle62, also a WIP. This fandom is exploding with WIPs. GUYS THIS IS A BAKERY!AU. YOU KNOW YOU SAW TSN AND YOU WERE LIKE DAYUMN I COULD USE A CAKE RIGHT NOW. THIS FIC COMES WITH CAKE. AND EDUARDO MAKING CAKE. AND THEN HE MAKES MOON EYES AT MARK. WHO MAKES MOON EYES BACK. IT IS GLORIOUS.
☆ Another WIP from the tsn_kinkmeme: come out of the shade by anon. Jesse is the playwright and Andrew is playing his verysemi-autobiographical character. It also features the usual gang of TSN RPF + Emma Stone. BUT GUYS. This fic is--in my imagination, right--written in the 40s by someone as classy as IDEK Lauren Bacall or something. That is what is happening in my head--not reality, right, because there is no way that this fic connects to the 40s except viz my imagination--and it is so lovely.