This is Shirasade‘s fic and vid recs collection, starting 2015. (Unfortunately my recs from 2005 onwards were hosted on Delicious and went bust with the site, although I found an unsorted bookmarks list from 2010.)
Because I moved from Delicous to Tumblr and now WordPress, the older posts don’t look quite so pretty.
Posts will be shared:
Find everything sorted by Fandom and Pairing in the archive or by searching:
“I’m not going to say it back,” Archie whispers. Betty chokes out a sob, but nods and does her best not to collapse against him. “That doesn’t mean what you think, though, Betty.”
She lifts her head slowly, her face wet from tears, and looks up at him with her brows raised. “It doesn’t?”
Archie looks around tentatively, then finds her gaze, holding it, and shaking his head: a firm no. He doesn’t say anything, but he does slide his hands to her cheeks and thumb away her tears. He does rotate his wrists and tip her face up. He does let his eyes search over her features before he leans down and kisses her in a way that makes Betty feel like her whole body has been submerged in a tub of warm water.
Someone has been in his bedroom. Someone who’s hungry. Nothing else is disturbed or missing.
It’s still an intrusion and he’s Captain America. He’s expected to call SHIELD with their forensics. He has deadly enemies, one of them above all others on SHIELD’s wanted list. Yet all Steve can do is stand at the window staring out at what he can see of the city three stories below, his insides knotting up with hope. The files described the Winter Soldier as an expert tracker. If any of Steve’s enemies could find where he lived it would be him.
That should have given Steve twice as much reason to call in SHIELD. The Winter Soldier is out there to kill him and to be in his sights is to die. But he’s Bucky too, in there somewhere, and after all the years they’ve scraped for food together during the Depression, the thought of Bucky out there hungry is too much to stomach.
His arm has slipped around Bucky’s hips in his sleep and after a moment Steve gets what it is this time. Bucky is hard from being pressed so close and the complete ignorance in his face of what a person would do here is awful. The distance HYDRA and their mindwipes carved between them is awful when the Bucky he knew would have turned to him for a kiss and rolled on top of him without a thought. But all that closeness of feeling like one person is buried now under the blankness they left and the grueling struggle to learn how to live his life again.
The truth is that Illya doesn’t pick up on Napoleon’s unconventional preferences until they become mission relevant. Then it’s all ice water in his veins, heat on his cheeks, eyes cast to the splay of his boots on their hotel carpet because he does not want to be caught looking shocked.
It shouldn’t be shocking. So many small, confusing things about Napoleon are making sense now, converging and collecting to form a neat profile in Illya’s mind. Of course, he thinks again. Of course, of course.
Aww, although I’ve only ever seen the first 2.5 seasons, you have no idea how pleased I am to see that apparently Betty and Archie are in fact endgame. This video shows their (long, long) journey beautifully. Childhood best friend ships FTW!
She pulls off her clothes by rote, brain still reeling with gunfire and flying patterns and tactical moves, and steps into the shower block.
Kara freezes, eyes shooting wide open for the first time in two days.
Standing under the nearest faucet, hands on the wall, head bowed under the spray is Lee Adama. Water sluices down his back, between his shoulder blades, over pale skin and bulging muscles, every inch proving that life can indeed imitate art and the CAG’s callsign was no joke.
Naked bodies are generally about as interesting as the bulkheads on a battlestar. Kara never stares, didn’t even when she was rook.
But this is Lee. And she’s wondered for far too long to stop staring now.
Helo stood up and moved closer to Kara, resting a hand on her shoulder. “My point is that Lee isn’t a casual sex kind of guy. He’s gonna want more.”
A warm rush surged in her stomach at Helo’s words, but Kara tamped it down. Because Karl was wrong. She shrugged off his touch, walking over to her desk for no particular reason. “Well, he’s leaving in a few days anyway, so what does it matter?”
“Yeah he is. And you’ll still be here. “ He leveled earnest eyes at her. “Kara, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Kara bit her lip. “I won’t,” she grinned brightly, just a few seconds late. “I can handle this.”
Lee thinks about arguing with her, trying to persuade her that they’re going to make it alive. Instead he says, “Bright, shiny futures are overrated anyway.”
She’s silent for a moment, her elbows resting on her knees, her face half obscured by the shadows. He looks at her from the corner of his eye. He knows she doesn’t want to be protected, but he wants to, he can’t help it.
“And now we can’t even play frakking triad,” she mumbles after a few minutes.
There’s nothing else to do, so he bursts out laughing. Her head whips towards him, surprise flashing briefly on her face, then she joins in. By the time the laughter stops she’s leaning heavily on him, and they’re too close for comfort and he can feel her breath on his lips and really, damn him for not being able to think when she’s looking at him like that, her mouth quirked in a grin and her face framed by messy bangs.
Something sizzles between them, elastic electricity stretching between their bodies. Lee feels her chest heaving; her breasts graze against his arm and they both startle almost guiltily. They don’t stop looking at each other, though; maybe the end of the worlds really is all it takes to bring Lee Adama and Kara Thrace together. It would figure.