May. 17th, 2009

karanguni: (Default)
Since I haven't done up my DW ones -- Pick whichever you'd like to be on!

1. Beta-filter babies -- my general beta-filter, which is really more of a 'here let me post stuff at you'. Contrary to the name, you don't actually have to beta anything; I occasionally call out in pain/for opinions, but it's totally cool if you just want to read and stuff. Warnings that my brain when on beta mode usually operates like a bizarre machine that hasn't been oiled in a few decades. 8D

2. Bat-pauper AU -- since I loveth this AU to death, I filtereth random things that I jot down for it here.

:D I recently posted some FFVII stuff to the beta-filter section, so if anyone's interested, there you go. \o\

Psst, if you're on those filters on my LJ, I think I/should have added you to the DW filters. If you can't see the latest beta-filter post beneath this one when you think you should, poke me with a stick!
karanguni: (RUFUS looks)
This fic officially took my brain, injected a thousand CCs of politics into it, beat it up and left me staggering about wildly. I haven't written something like this, I think, since Empery.

The last (and crowning) jewel of the Honourable Men triple bill (they're all standalones, though, so no need to read through).

I humbly request that you give this one a try. ♥ Okay going to go expire from exhaustion now.

Year One

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII (BC through CC)
Characters: Lazard-Tseng-Rufus, Veld, Reeve, does the City of Midgar count?
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Spans through Crisis Core and Before Crisis backstory. You don't need to know BC, but it helps, and there's a tiny appendix at the bottom of the fic to help you if you'd like.
Summary: From the journals of Urban Development, filling in the lives and empty spaces in Midgar.

7575 words and Midgar being alive.

One gets the impression that we shall soon be bringing them brighter futures as well. )

 

A universe of unmapped grief and love
And new master light is beyond
The pleiades and plow and southern stars.

O soaring
Icarus of outworld, burn bright
The traceries of known skymarks,
Slide the highway planets behind
Your clear waxed wings.

Go conquer the everywhere left
Beyond your sad confinement
In a predicted bonehouse,
Witch thrown riddle of flesh
And water.

O soar until nothing
remains but great glittering holes
In the black godspun shirt over your head.

- John Fairfax