Shut Up, and Let Me See Your Jazz Hands

So I am in a weird, introverted place right now, fic-wise. Very new=bad, old=good. Which is a little weird to be doing on a new computer, because usually when I get like this, I just stay offline and dive into the approx. five years worth of saved files. It's very soothing, on several levels. But the new computer doesn't have my files, as moving them is going to mean a whole reorganization thing that is very, very overdue and very, very intimidating. So I'm using the Doom Index to find what I want and 1) holy crap, that's a lot of broken links and 2) there are so many things I was sure I recced that I just haven't. Currently blowing my mind? I have apparently never recced that FatF fic with the attempted drawing and quartering (oh, fandom; so many things I never expected to type).

And I'm just looking at things and boggling at some fandoms, because I love those guys, what do you mean I've only recced them three times? And holy crap, I was actively reading in that fandom for five minutes, how are there 30 stories in Mixed Multiples alone? And like, I would never have called Due South one of My Fandoms, it's more a fandom-I-am-adjacent-to, but I've recced it kind of a lot for so little investment.

Anyway. I will be in my little corner, reading Unfinished Business and First Prime and the promise of monsters and What Might Have Been and HP & the Nightmare of Futures Past and other long, shiny stories that I know won't hurt me by randomly inscribing Elvish on Rodney's engagement ring, or including surprise bad time travel, aka, immutable timelines are bullshit, or surprise killing Brendon Urie, omg.

Although I may be back to regale you with my Perfect Royal Pains Fic that I spent an hour fantasizing about at work (femdom, very physical and dirty and with orgasm denial and humiliation and maybe something happens in a public place, like he gets her off and has to go back to the party with the smell of her on his fingers and he just has to hope no one notices and also that he doesn't come in his pants because oh my god, did that really just happen and. Um. Yes. As you can see, it calls to me).