![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
B5 fic: "Small mercies" [Londo/G'Kar]
Title: Small mercies
Summary: Sometimes, a brief respite from solitude is all that one can hope for. For Londo, it might even be enough.
Timeline: Set post-s5, some years after the events of "Fall of Centauri Prime".
Characters: Londo/G'Kar
Rating: Uh... PG-13? It all stays within the realm of the suggestive.
Disclaimer: Owned by JMS and Babylonian Productions.
Thanks to: My wonderful betas,
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
selenakand kangeiko. (k, here's your birthday present - officially now. Without those tons of edits of yours, I would never have worked as hard on this, so you've earned it!) Small mercies
How many holes in a life before it falls apart? In mine, they seem so great in number that one false step could send me tumbling straight to hell. Or a different kind of hell, at least, than the one where demons perch upon one’s shoulder.
Ironic, is it not? Of all the things I feared when accepting this life, boredom I think ranked last on my list. Yet what else could one call it, this clinging sense of resignation that gnaws at the skin, that has permeated every pore of me, until I feel sick and bloated with futility. It hardly helps that I am surrounded by fools, deaf and blind to what little clues I can give. Or perhaps I am wrong, and it does help; perhaps their foolishness is all that keeps my own ego afloat, and I should kiss their feet in gratitude.
It would be easier by far if I weren’t alone. In the past, there was always some companionship to be found; if not with a friend, then at least for a night’s comfort in a lady’s arms. And at the end, of course, there was Vir, who somehow managed to fill every void in my hearts, even those that I did not know existed. Except, inevitably, the one left by my Adira… though the Maker knows the boy did try.
Perhaps more than the talking, I miss the little things between us: bickering over who had better taste in music; hungover breakfasts of jála and toast; the casual closeness that we had. Dear gods, I must have poked and pinched and patted him a million times over; surely he thought me insane at first! I never realized before how often I touched him; how much I needed the certainty of that touch.
How I crave any touch, any company, right now. Loneliness is a cruel bedmate, you know; it makes us act in ways we do not want to. Like how I nearly laid hands on a woman today.
Oh, it was nothing shocking, or in any way inexcusable - yet the ease with which it happened sobered me like little else could. I had gone for a walk in the gardens, as I often do when the tedium of state affairs threatens to choke me, and something about her made me freeze in my tracks. Desire had nothing to do with it at all; if anything, it was the manner in which she raised her face to me, without a hint of reservation. Before I knew it, my hand hovered a mere inch from her crown, and it took all the strength I had to pull away and walk past her. The worst of it was that she smiled as I did so, while I could have screamed at my own weakness.
Only afterwards did I truly understand: her eyes held that same innocence I once saw in Vir’s, before my actions drained it out of him.
°
At night, at least, I do not mind the solitude. It is only at night that I open the windows, to find the only companion left to me. The motions are so familiar by now that my body goes through them unbidden: curtains, panes, latches, shutters, I unpeel them as feverishly as one would a lady’s dress, aching to bare the world beyond. And she is a lady still, my Centauri Prime. Watching her in starlight, unblemished by the scars that disfigure her by day, I can almost see the future I am fighting for.
Time, however, is no longer on my side. I can feel in my bones that I am fading, as all things are – especially those that most deserve to remain whole. Or perhaps it is just that my eyes have become weary; perhaps there are still pinpricks of light to be found, but I simply fail to see them.
It is not just hope that slips from me. The visions of my death, the ones that haunted me for years, have all but stopped, and I find that I almost mourn them. Some nights I lie awake and grope for them in memory. How cruel, that they would be taken from me just as I start to grasp their meaning.
What I am sure they mean is this: death, when it arrives, will be a comfort rather than a curse. I admit that some nights I am selfish, and wish for that comfort to be delivered to me sooner. But then I think of Vir, burdened with his own destiny, and I know I should hold out for as long as I am able. He is much stronger than one would give him credit for, you know; stronger in a way than I have ever been. And to think that I once believed him incapable! How I hope that he will be all right in the end, that the future he longed for is still within reach. A wife, a home, a chance for happiness: such small things, and yet... It is a future I cannot grasp right now, though I will give my all for it nonetheless.
Among those drying husks of dreams, one face has clung to me the longest. What irony, that I would miss the sight of him in my nightmares; a fact, I am sure, he would find most amusing. For me to be desperate enough to wish for his company, to have him strike me about the head once more with volleys of self-righteousness… well, I must be in dire straits indeed. Yet lately I find I cannot quite recall his features, and his name has begun to taste strange to me.
It is madness to long to see him again.
°
Great Maker, it has happened. I have finally gone insane.
The thought grinds to a halt in a haze of panic, cutting my limbs out from under me. The next thing I know, the throne presses into my back while I sit panting gracelessly, hands without purchase on the polished gold sides. That I spent the past half-hour drinking hardly serves to prop up my dignity. It is a pitiful display, really, quite unworthy of an emperor; yet at this point I cannot be bothered to care. What I do care about is the shadow in the doorway, which would in fact look perfectly normal in these surroundings, yes, perfectly normal at all – were it not for the Narn following behind it.
A delusion. The truth. A delusion. My fingers pluck at the velvet as if it were a flower, nerves screeching denial at every truth I pass. How gloriously prophetic, that my madness would take such a shape. I have half a mind to pretend it is real; to get up and have a talk to him, ridiculous as it seems. But then he bows, with just that hint of irony, and pretence becomes utterly redundant.
Dear gods, he hasn’t aged a day.
“G’Kar,” I breathe, and now I feel old as well as shaken. With effort, I push myself up from the throne, head swimming as the brivari reasserts its presence. I am dimly aware that I should be making some display of welcome here, should at least attempt to act reasonable, but what comes out of my mouth sounds more like the monosyllables of a stroke victim than the gracious words of a monarch.
“G’Kar, you fool… why did you come back?” My posture is nearly as cramped as my voice, and I struggle to snap them both back into shape. “Which part of ‘you should not be here’ is so hard to comprehend? It isn’t safe here, I said, so–”
He huffs – a rush of history – and I almost feel like my old self again.
“Please, Mollari; should I defend myself now for coming to visit you? This is a free universe, is it not?”
I am tempted to ask him precisely what is free about it, but of course that would hardly be useful, or wise.
He takes another step towards me, cheeks curving into the driest of smiles. “It is good to see you, too, Londo.” His mouth closes uneasily around the first name, and I startle at the sound of it. “Even when you are rambling; I should have known a life of luxury would fail to mend that habit of yours.”
My Keeper stirs in its brivari-drenched haze, settling down again to the thumping of my hearts. Life of luxury. I feel tipsy. So he does not know. Thank the Maker for small mercies, at least. A breath, and then another, burst from my lips in quick succession, as I realize I am not getting nearly enough air.
“My habits?”, I manage. “And what old vices have you indulged in, hmm, gallivanting around the galaxy with a woman in tow?” There is a sweetness to the banter that nearly pulls me under, and it is all I can do to keep my voice from cracking.
The gleam of his good eye gives him away. Oh, he knows something, for certain; the flicker is gone before it truly registers, but I’d swear I saw concern in there. That, in itself, is sufficient cause for worry; trust G’Kar to come bursting in on a mission of rescue, only to find it is his own life that needs rescuing.
I decide then and there not to let him out of my sight. How I will manage that, though, is something else entirely.
“I must admit, G’Kar,” I go on, cautious, “I was rather surprised when Vir told me about your… departure. Somehow I did not believe you the type to – what is it the Earth people say? – ‘go off quietly into the night’.”
He blinks but otherwise ignores that last comment, instead latching on to what I said before. “About Vir.”
“Hmm?” I frown, halfway into lowering myself back on the throne.
“Vir Cotto." He cocks his head, as if checking if I am still in possession of my senses; something tells me he is not much convinced by what he sees. “I met him a little over a week ago, stopping over on Babylon 5 on my way to Minbar. He seemed concerned about you; told me you were having a difficult time… ‘adjusting to the balance of power’, I believe is how he put it. I came to see if he was right.”
Vir. Great Maker – all those years, and he stilll hasn’t given up on me. It was inevitable, I suppose, that he would speak to G’Kar, though I cannot quite picture the scene in my head. They were never truly friends, those two; respect had a way of keeping them apart, rather than drawing them closer. I wonder what they talked about, when they were not too busy fretting over me. The fretting, I am sure, is what brought them toghether – for of course G’Kar is as guilty of that as Vir, much as he would hate to say it aloud.
For the first time, I look at G’Kar – truly look at him – and notice he is not quite as young as he appeared. Not that he’s aged, exactly… But there are lines in his face that weren’t there before, lines of joy and sorrow both, and I wonder if beneath them he is still the man I knew.
Frowning, he takes a step closer to the throne, as if seeing me for the first time as well. “You’ve changed, Mollari; something happened to you. What –”
“Changed for the better, yes?”, I interject, wanting suddenly nothing more than to draw a laugh from him. “Good liquor ripens with age, does it not?”
“Oh, naturally,” he retorts, picking up the gauntlet with proper grace, “Unless, of course, it was old to begin with; then it will only go to waste.”
We do not laugh at that, although it was a decent try. I am actually surprised when he moves in closer, stepping over the awkwardness as if it weren’t there.
“Dear G’Quan, listen to me… And to say it was you who once talked too much.”
His hand comes down to settle next to mine, and I know that there is nothing to it; that I should just toss back a chuckle to match his own, and all will be as it was. Yet my eyes remain drawn to that gloved wrist, the merest sliver exposed of the skin. Another inch, and I could be touching him.
I can hardly believe when he beats me to it.
°
He is asleep now, his breathing harsh yet oddly soothing, shuddering through my bones like bursts of rain. The sleep of the innocent, or of the damned, I wonder?
My head aches dully, courtesy of the two now-empty bottles lying discarded on the floor. The pain, of course, is nothing to me. If anything, I relish it, knowing that my Keeper – who is, by now, as wide awake as I am – is affected by it just as much. I indulge for a moment in that sweet knowledge, before I let myself be distracted by Narn arms and palms and fingers splaying across my side. For some reason, I have turned my back on him while sleeping, and the thought of this fills me with sadness.
Still, it is fitting. For if he is to live, I must turn from him, as I have turned from anyone unfortunate enough to have touched my heart. As I had to turn even from Timov, from whom in my most fanciful dreams I had not expected such folly.
My memory must be slipping again, draining from me what little remains of last night. Were it not for G’Kar lying beside me when I woke, I might not have recalled anything at all. Even now, as I try to knit together those brief, disjointed flashes, it feels rather like snatching at leaves in a storm.
I remember him helping me up from the throne: a strangely intimate moment, made more intimate by the hand pressed into my back, and I still reeling a little with surprise. Then the endless walk towards my chambers, which he entered with me without asking permission. From the way he held my eyes, I could tell that he was shaken: by my age, my weakness, the fight that appeared to have gone out of me. He came to me, I think, believing he could make a difference. But as the hours passed, and I poured out brivari with increasingly unsteady hands, I saw him understand the hopelessness of it.
I remember that we talked for a while, sad and serious words that are lost to me now, words in which I could only hint at what was wrong, though I think he saw through all of them. How we were seated first on opposite sides of the table; then, suddenly, found ourselves shoulder to shoulder on the couch. How, in that mild, insufferable way of his, he said:
“Take off that dress, Mollari. Truly, white isn’t your colour.”
At first I laughed, sure he was joking, till I saw in his face that he was not.
For a moment I think I wept, although I cannot now be certain when. Surely it was not when my voice faltered at his touch; or when his fingers sought and fondled my throat, lightly squeezing my breath into ragged gasps. Neither was it when he leaned in to close the distance; nor after that first, heady crush of mouth on mouth, which swept away any thought I might have had of being shocked.
It was only as he reached to unbutton my coat, the warmth of lust stirring within me while my Keeper stirred without, that I was shocked, though at no one but myself, for failing to anticipate this outcome. Two bottles I had emptied; two jewels filled with sweet escape. Yet it was waking now, my constant companion, clumsy and bloated and ruthless with alcohol, to slip tendrils of glee into my thoughts. Perhaps that is when the tears started; or else after I drew his hand away, knowing while I did that he would not fight me.
In the end, the buttons remained unopened. Instead we lay together like old lovers, embracing fully clothed atop the sheets.
°
How quaint, I think, meeting hard Drakh eyes; how utterly pointless, that he should keep his voice so quiet, the grey-scaled face so empty of expression, while in my mind he sets his fury loose. That he would be furious is hardly surprising; in fact, I wanted him to be, if only to remind myself that my actions still have meaning. Oh, there will be punishment; of that I have no doubt. But I will feel nothing of it, nothing at all, because somewhere between here and Minbar, a small craft is hurtling into safety, carrying with it all of my hopes.
“You allowed him to leave.”
I almost smile as I feel the pain setting in. “He knew nothing. I told him –” Breathe, Mollari. Just – “nothing. He held no interest for you, I assumed.”
The agony swells in the wake of his anger, distracting me for just a moment. But there is nothing to it, really; no taste of blood on my lips, not the bursting of my hearts inside my chest. Nothing but skin and skull and bones and eyes – garnet eyes, uneven in the darkness – and a name and face that are strange to me no longer.
This was it, I think; the height of our intimacy. This close we’ve come, no closer, until the very end.
In the end, of course, there will not be a handwidth between us; not enough space to even draw breath.
no subject
*applauds wildly*
*clasps fic to bosom*
no subject
Um... could I also keep *half* of it, pretty please, to clasp to mine? Or - okay, I'll settle for a third. A quarter, even! Just... for lack of a live Londo to clasp, you know?
And - thanks. A lot. *blushes*
no subject
no subject
no subject
Gut-wrenching: Oh, yes. Both of them. So much. *sniffles*
no subject
However long it took you to finish it, it was worth it. It was good from the beginning and kept becoming better with every part. And that last line is just amazing!
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to hug my Londo action figure for a moment.
no subject
*waaaaaaaaaaaants*
Hug it for me, too, please? Or - well, maybe an action figure isn't the most huggable thing around, given that it's plastic... You don't suppose they sell Londo dolls somewhere, do you? With real hair?
Glad to hear you enjoyed it!
no subject
no subject
no subject
Aside from that, my favorite bit was this: "They were never truly friends, those two; respect had a way of keeping them apart, rather than drawing them closer." That is very perceptive and leaves me thinking a lot about G'Kar and Vir.
no subject
About that last line: it's funny, but I seldom start writing a fic from the beginning, or finish at the end. Here, the last two scenes were actually the ones I wrote first. On the other hand, for some reason I tend to keep the opening scene - and sentence - until the last. Not sure how 'normal' that is - do you usually write in the logical order, or do you switch around too, according to mood and inspiration?
Vir and G'Kar: yes, so much potential there, and the show didn't really do them as much justice as it could have. The few scenes they had together (e.g. Vir apologizing in the elevator, with G'Kar cutting his arm counting the drops of blood as dead Narn) were marvelous, but there was never any true closure between them that we were shown - unless there's something in Crusade or the movies which I haven't seen? I'd love to put that thought into a fic, one day...
no subject
I probably would have related more if there had been no slashy penumbra, but that's me, and not you, and not lots of other people.
I can't remember any scenes with Vir and G'Kar in the movies. I haven't seen Crusade (yet). Vir is important in Thirdspace. I'll have to check that out.
I usually write the first scene first, often it comes all at once, like some sort of vision. I used to write exclusively linearly...from beginning to end. The End. Now I'll write out a later scene if it comes to me and wants out early. Otherwise I risk losing it while it's new and shiny. Driving is a hazard, cause I think of plots and scenes in the car a lot. My husband just got me a little handheld voice recorder, thinking I could use it to dictate ideas or lines, but I'm not sure about it. I guess he doesn't want me driving off the road in a haze of inspiration!
no subject
To be honest, I've never been much for slash pairings myself, and Londo/G'Kar is the first one I'm wholeheartedly into. Not sure why; I think it has to do with both of them being tragic and lonely and isolated from their own people (except Vir, of course), and middle-aged and not all that handsome (so no typical slash material), combined with the delicious irony of one-time enemies finding that they're, essentially, the only ones who understand each other. Plus, they're both very much in need of some happiness, and I don't see any other option for either of them, apart from pairing them with an OC, which I feel would lack emotional impact. Still, despite my over-enthusiastic squeeing about them (I'm still new enough to all of this that I tend to get carried away a little), when it comes to fic I'm still a gen writer at heart; I certainly don't see myself getting beyond the occasional kissing scene anytime soon. 'Small mercies' is my only story that's even remotely slashy, and the ones I'm working on now are all gen. Incidentally, for babylon5_love I'll be doing a Vir & Londo friendship fic, which may be more your piece of cake. ;) And 'Acts of contrition' is pure gen too, essentially a s5 missing scene set on Centauri Prime.
So tell me - why Lennier/Ivanova? :)
Thirdspace I've seen, but sadly, G'Kar is not in it. And I don't think Vir is in Crusade?
Using a voice recorder in the car: hmm, that doesn't sound any less hazardous than thinking about story ideas. :) Also, dictating lines doesn't seem that simple to me. I hardly ever think up a sentence in one stretch; I need to see it written out in order to polish it further. But practice makes perfect, I guess!
no subject
(Anonymous) 2009-09-07 10:44 am (UTC)(link)I will look forward to Vir & Londo; love those two. Vir's arc is one of my favorites, how he grows and matures. It's the inverse of my poor Lennier's.
L/I came about mostly because I wanted Lennier to come back, and not just to die in the Telepath War (stupid JMS.) I wanted redemption and re-birth and new beginnings. I wanted Susan to be happy, and was a) never convinced that Marcus could do that for her and b) the Marcus thaw stories left me cold (aargh, the punnery!) It's AU in that I have Susan returning from the Rim in 2270, but instead of becoming a General and desk-bound in Geneva, quitting the Force to run the Anla'Shok while John is still alive. That gives me lovely John&Susan and Susan&Delenn interactions too. Lennier returns, a changed man from his adventures in exile (and that is crucial), and they click. It's a long story, and I took a long time to set the whole thing up. They are both so wounded and so cautious it took a bit of maneuvering to get them together.
It's a bit like your Londo & G'Kar needs. In short, we love them, and want them to be happy, in as much as they are capable of it.
no subject
no subject
I unpeel them as feverishly as one would a lady’s dress, aching to bare the world beyond. And she is a lady still, my Centauri Prime.
I love how deftly you catch Londo's passionate love for his planet and people, it's a love and devotion that reminds me of TOS Kirk and the Enterprise--unselfish and all-encompassing.
I have half a mind to pretend it is real; to get up and have a talk to him, ridiculous as it seems.
Auuughhhh. This is just...one of my favorite tropes in fic is when a character sees someone yearned-for and thinks they've finally gone mad, and it fits so very well here.
For some reason, I have turned my back on him while sleeping, and the thought of this fills me with sadness.
That's a beautiful little touch--I've done that myself and I know the sort of pang at the unconscious betrayal of your own body against your heart.
“Take off that dress, Mollari. Truly, white isn’t your colour.”
Best come-on line ever. Insulting and yet with a deeper implied compliment and concern at how G'Kar hates to see him as Emperor. Your writing of G'Kar is so perfect for this first-person POV, as the reader can see clearly how he's come to cherish and care for Londo even though Londo doesn't seem quite able to see it himself (how could he, the poor dear man...)
when his fingers sought and fondled my throat, lightly squeezing my breath into ragged gasps.
jshdjkhfsuudfnujfjkj I had never considered how the throat as an erogenous zone would be so intensely resonant for these two. Hot and bittersweet, and my heart broke that Londo couldn't go through with it, but it's clear that G'Kar understands.
And those last two lines. Just... *bows*
Thank you for this, it's so beautiful.
no subject
THIS is exactly the Londo/G'Kar I would have wanted to write myself.
Ooh, write some write some write some! *jumps up and down squeeing* Seriously, there's precious little Londo/G'Kar around as it is, and I'm not even aware of anyone else who's still writing it these days - so: no better time than today to jump on the barricades for these two. ;) Incidentally, I'm always up for requests, so if there's anything else you'd like to see written, please, just fire away and I'll give it my best shot!
And - yeah, this was really one of those fics that needed writing. I was aching for some form of comfort or hope for post-season 5 Londo, however small - just anything, to ease those 20 years of hell that canon gave us. Also - I don't know if you read the "Legions of Fire" trilogy by Peter David? The novels deal with the period in between Londo's coronation and his death, and while they do a pretty good job in tying up loose ends, they make hardly any attempt to bring G'Kar into the picture... Hence, the fic.
Your writing of G'Kar is so perfect for this first-person POV
Thanks, great to hear it worked for you. I actually found the first-person POV much harder than I'd imagined, partly because of that very tight perspective, but also because Londo has this slightly pompous way of talking (and thinking) that can easily slide off into the artificial. I sweated and cursed on it for weeks, and I still can't pass any objective judgment on whether or not I got it right in the end. So it's good to get feedback on that (and even better when it's positive feedback ;) )
it's a love and devotion that reminds me of TOS Kirk and the Enterprise--unselfish and all-encompassing.
I've never made that link, but - yes, I suppose that is true: for both of them, it's the only true home they have, and they both consider it the single most important woman in their lives, the one they always come back to when the others are taken away. Very good point! Oh, by the way, I saw on your LJ you wrote a number of ST: TOS fics? I'll have to check those out. *rubs hands*
This is just...one of my favorite tropes in fic is when a character sees someone yearned-for and thinks they've finally gone mad, and it fits so very well here.
Ah, well... My being a less-than-experienced fic writer and reader means I'm not always aware of what's a trope and what isn't. That can be positive (a fresh perspective, so to say) but it can just as well just be an "ouch" experience. I'm relieved you think this wasn't the latter. ;)
Best come-on line ever
Hot and bittersweet
You know, I love those kinds of compliments. *g* Even more so because this is basically a story with no sex, so I'm delighted to hear it manages to be erotic even without that.
and my heart broke that Londo couldn't go through with it, but it's clear that G'Kar understands.
*nods* Of course he'd understand - he can probably read Londo better than the man can read himself... *hugs G'Kar tight with one arm and clutches Londo with the other*
And I just - I wanted to write them actually sleeping together, but in the end, I couldn't do it. It just wouldn't have fitted, I think, either with the mood of the story or with my mood while writing it, so... Ah, well, that's for another time, perhaps. :)
So, just to say it one last time: thanks again for that gorgeous, gorgeous comment. And also - despite my loving the compliments and the squee, I'm always open for points of criticism or suggestions for improvement. Really. *g*
no subject
I actually found the first-person POV much harder than I'd imagined, partly because of that very tight perspective, but also because Londo has this slightly pompous way of talking (and thinking) that can easily slide off into the artificial.
I was really impressed at tackling first-person Londo! I can't imagine many more challenging POVs to write from--as you say, I'm sure he takes forever to get somewhere and is likely to get sidetracked just as things get interesting by contemplating the proper shade of brocade or vintage of brivari.
Oh, by the way, I saw on your LJ you wrote a number of ST: TOS fics? I'll have to check those out. *rubs hands*
Sadly, I think it's just three--and two are drabblish. I'm kind of intimidated by writing K/S, I have to confess! The new movie helped by flooding my flist with so much K/S that it no longer felt like such a...weighty pairing (I shipped then before I knew what shipping was!)
Ah, well... My being a less-than-experienced fic writer and reader means I'm not always aware of what's a trope and what isn't.
It's not a common one, but since I used in my first slashy fic I ever wrote (for Blakes 7) I have a special fondness for it. :)
Oh, and I hope you don't mind that I friended you, so I don't miss other fics and also because you have fun meta! :)
no subject
Yes. Whoo! *cheers loudly* But seriously, go for it. Much as I'm complaining about too little fic being written for them, writing a not-so-polular pairing in a small fandom (at least, compared to ST or HP and assorted giants) has its advantages, too. For one, the feeling that everything's been written (which I get, for example, with ST:TOS) is completely absent here; there's still plenty of uncharted territory left! ;)
As for re-watching, did you know there's a rewatch community here at lj? They're called
The Peter David trilogy: mmh, I'm in two minds about it myself. It really does explain a great deal, which I loved, but I didn't find it the literary masterpiece that most of the rave reviews on Amazon seemed to suggest. The lack of G'Kar I didn't mind that much, though it was a bit of a missed opportunity; and P.D. has a pretty decent Londo voice. It was more the writing style I found a bit rushed and/or forced sometimes. But that may have been personal taste, as many people seem to like it a lot anyway.
K/S I've never actively shipped, but I can certainly appreciate fic about them - though I tend to go for the platonic/suggestive rather than the explicit (which is, actually, my preference for most slash). And I can totally understand being intimidated - though, in the line of what you told me with regards to clichéfic, I'd say feeling intimidated is just as unnecessary as feeling apologetic! :)
Of course I don't mind the friending, on the contrary, I'm thrilled - my reader contingent has just gone up by about 30%, imagine that! :D In any case, I hope you'll continue to enjoy what I'm writing.
no subject
This was it, I think; the height of our intimacy. This close we’ve come, no closer, until the very end.
In the end, of course, there will not be a handwidth between us; not enough space to even draw breath.
God. So beautiful, that intimacy. ARGH I love them.
no subject
no subject
I think I've read some of your stuff at the AO3 before, actually! I'll have to go surf through there. I know I've read the one that's set on earth, and thought it was one of the best B5 fics I'd read. I'll look forward to reading more!
no subject
And thank you! Not all of my B5 fics on AO3 are equally up to par (especially some of the older, shorter ones could really use a reediting round) but there are some stories there that I'm still quite happy with! The story you mention (this one, I think?) is one of them, as are Bearing Witness and Desiderata. (Sorry for the self-promotion, and of course no obligation to read; but should you be taking a look, I'd rather you start with the good and not the 'meh' stuff, you know? :) )