quigonejinn: (hornblower - the last crossing)
The whole world needs to be reading this fic by [livejournal.com profile] atropos_too, yo. It made [livejournal.com profile] despatches this morning/evening/whatever, but oh man. I'm sitting in the 9th floor of a four star hotel in the shopping district of an inland city that's 40 miles from one of the biggest deserts in the world, and I swear I can smell the sea.
His breath smokes on the pillow. The sheets, washed only in salt water for the last five months, can never be fully dried; they suck up the damp air of the cabin.
Melancholy and atmospheric and intensely Age of Sail. I think I would have done certain elements differently, but man, there isn't enough of this kind of fic in fandom. It's just wonderfully Hornblower and sea and quiet and full of what I love best about Hornblower and Bush and Forester's writing. I mean, pieces like this could get me enjoying adjectives and adverbs again. :D

Hornblower, Reflective.
quigonejinn: (persuasion - don't even cry)
It's a misery of an end-of-October day. Screw being responsible and doing work; I stayed up until 4AM last night re-reading old fandom favorites of mine, and man oh man. I'll never stop loving this by Diane Coffin and this by Cynthia Martin.

And is there anything even a smidgeon wrong with Wrong by [livejournal.com profile] billytaylor? And Close Quarters (1 2 3 4 5 6 7) oh WIP of my heart, one of only two WIPs that I love enough to follow across weeks and months and years if need be when I have problems sitting still through a single TV show even with all the commercials cut out. I have the attention span of somebody whose first memory of television is MTV and who grew up during the day of Windows multi-tasking, and yet I love this multi-chapter fic like burning and feel that if I someday write something half as rich and engrossing as "Close Quarters," my work as a writer will be done.

And oh this, which makes me squeal like the hopeless, hopeless, hopeless fangirl I am everytime I see it.

It's not schmoop, bitches. It's high fucking art. Don't make me break a bottle and come after you.

June 2017

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