Romany (romanyg) wrote,

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Fic rec: 5-1/2 Months in Havenport by fainn

When I'm writing, I tend not to read - not only because of my limited time, but because I'm insecure regarding my abilities and their limitations. And, as invariably happens, when I decide to break my own rule, sitting down with my morning coffee and not yet ready to write, I click on a random fic. And that fic happens to be so well-crafted, resonant, that I'm left quietly reeling, breath stolen and my insecurity rejoices.

This is that fic.

Although I rec sporadically, randomly, I try to rec less well-known writers, fics that have been passed over. This is fainn's first foray into the fandom and her flist is small. Although she's posted a link to a popular community, she's received few comments on this, and certainly not the number this incredible piece deserves.

This is Bruce/Clark, SupaBat, whatever you want to call it. Many on my flist don't read that particular fandom or pairing, but if someone outside the fandom were to ask me for a starting piece, I'd certainly point them here. One only needs to go into this with basic cultural knowledge or having seen some of the movies. There's no porn here, but what you'll find is great emotion, what it means to be a hero, the great personal cost of being that hero, how the world needs them but resists them all the same. There are no easy answers but there is hope.

This fic incorporates much from T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland", but it's not obtuse and you don't need to be familiar with the poem at all to read this, to appreciate the understated but powerful details, the sparse dialogue that says so much.

This is in two parts and I'm posting links to both here since the first part, unfortunately, doesn't link to the second.

Title: 5½ Months in Havenport
Author: fainn (fic journal: komyakusuji)
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-13 for a kiss and themes.
Summary: An ordinary crisis leads to them to a wasteland, where they find despair and themselves.
Word Count: 9,
Notes: Written as part of a study of T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland. Personal experiment with verbal collage. hyacinths.

part.two.: lilacs.

Now I have to go chase my insecurity about the room as it's laughing and taunting me with "Ha ha! You'll never write again!", grapple with it while my children blink at me and tell each other that their mother is indeed crazy.
Tags: recs
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