An Ancient Hymn to Love by fannishliss
Genre: character study, metaphysical
Characters: Death, April Kelly, Reapers
Word Count: 1800
Spoilers: Through 9x03
Summary: In the beginning, Death as well was there, the darkness against which God created light. And there was light, and the evening and the morning were the first day. And Death saw that it was good.
I love the insertion of Death into the familiar origin story--and the way it works as a refrain throughout the narrative. The way this fic puts forth the ever-presence of Death is just fantastic, both as a devastating force (as evinced in the loss of April's parents) as well as a tangible source of strength--as evinced in April herself. In both narrative and narration, as like Death steps forward just enough that we can see him, see his workings in places that would otherwise have been invisible.
It's April Kelly's exegesis, wrapped into a retelling of the Biblical origins of the world, reinscribing Death into the story of Life. What's not to love?
Sh$% Dean says by counteragent
Genre: drabble, twist ending
Characters: Dean, Sam
Word Count: 150
Spoilers: Through 9x01, takes place at some point later in S9.
Summary: Dean’s non-sequiturs are getting weirder, Sam thought.
counteragent says it best; in the comments she notes her desire to explore that moment when a secret becomes so embedded that it's partly that you will not tell it--and mostly that you can't. In the briefest of words, this is that fic. But don't be put off by the word count--every syllable is double-edged and poised to kill.
A tiger by its tail by counteragent
Genre: slash, horror, mindfuck, and…is fantastic bar ambience a genre?
Characters: Dean, Sam, Ezekiel
Word Count: ~2800
Spoilers: Through 9x01; takes place (much) later in S9.
Summary: Dean hasn't been drunk in a long time. He and Sam haven't done this in a long time, either.
If you're the sort who occasionally speed-reads or skims fic--and I confess, sometimes I do--my advice for this one: SLOW. DOWN. It's worth every moment. Hot as hell, saucy, a little muddied; it's all the love and comfort and normalcy you've ever wanted, without taking the edge off of anything. There's a moment where Dean feels--and this is his word--"cherished." And yet--and yet.
The real horror of this fic isn't found in gothic tropes, or deprivation, or the sort of dead-pan darkness and blood and toil typical of the genre. Or even in the more pristine, reserved moodiness of other horror stories, the ones that hold things back, invite terror into empty spaces. This fic gives--and in so doing, makes you realize how very much there is to lose. (Or how much has already been lost.)
FUCK YEAH S9.
In other news, I'm having one of those bizarre moments where I want to flee from all of my responsibilities--here meaning the fandom ones, not the RL ones. The RL ones go without saying. XD But that's silly, because I don't have any fandom responsibilities, since it's all…voluntary. idk I just feel like I should be doing things for HT's themed week like post recs or clips and such--all things I planned to do; planned to do, in fact, every day of the themed week and failed to do for all of them. Because I don't really feel like it, and I'd rather just write non-HT fic. WHICH SHOULD BE TOTALLY OKAY. It is totally okay; objectively, I know that.
But it still makes me feel like a bad mod. :\