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neshel.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2009-08-01 01:16 pm
neshel.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-08-01 01:16 pm
Unmade by entangled_now (R)
Hi all! I'm ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
neshel and I'll be driving the Heroes Van for August!
I have a wee obsession, and his name is Sylar. As such, he will be in most, if not all (I haven't finished deciding yet), of the fics I will be reccing this month.
Fandom: HEROES
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Length: 16k in 2 parts
Author on LJ:entangled_now
Author Website:library_of_sol Fic Masterlist
Why this must be read:
I have been a big fan ofentangled_now's fic, in several fandoms, for a long time now; however, there is one fic that always jumps to the forefront of mind when I think of her, and this is it.
Written from Peter's point of view, this fic takes place post V2 in the sparse, bleak setting of an all white cell, with a simple clear divider seperating him from his fellow prisoner: Sylar. Being captured and experimented on is a popular theme in the Heroes fanfic world, but this fic stands out prominently among them. Peter's panic, his despair, and the way he teeters on the edge of insanity is beautifully characterized. The connection he forms with Sylar, that they form with each other out of necessity, is deftly woven. The characterization displayed through Peter's thoughts and a series of conversations is brilliant.
This is a dark, harsh fic, that pulls no punches, but I promise you it is worth reading through to the end.
--
"I don't remember how I got here either."
Sylar's eyes sweep his face, a mistrustful search for lies, for anything underneath the words. He'll find nothing, nothing at all. Because it's true and Peter is as bewildered as him.
"Bennet," Sylar says quietly. "Bennet has a fondness for putting people in glass cases."
"Bennet wouldn't have done this." Peter says and Sylar's expression is question and irritation and something that might be disgust.
"Assuming people are incapable of things is at best stupidity and at worse immaturity."
"I never said he was incapable," Peter says angrily. "He left, he left the people that were tagging us, collecting us."
"So whoever they are, minus Bennet, it amounts to the same thing."
"Which is?"
"Captivity, torture, death."
"Trust you to assume the worst."
"It's not an assumption, it's experience," Sylar says simply, flatly.
--
The food stays the same, day after day after day it's the same dull selection of vegetables and meat products with the occasional burst of fruit generosity. Someone, somewhere has calculated the bare minimum amount of healthy food needed to keep two grown men alive and moving.
Judging by the artificial night they're forced to endure it's been at least a few weeks, Peter's going to lose track soon with nothing to write on and no way to tell the time. Though Sylar, infuriatingly, always seems to know what time and day it is.
Their captors have never once shown their faces or given any indication that they're anything other than observers.
Sometimes Peter even has his doubts about that. Maybe they're just feeding them and keeping them drugged and that's it.
Though that seems an incredible waste of resources.
It appears there are resources to waste though, the tray appears in the same place every morning, with no answers and no explanations. Peter has taken to leaving the empty tray in various parts of his cell, just out of curiosity, or possibly stubbornness.
The fact that they were both being drugged, regularly, in their sleep is something he could only be furious about for so long.
There's nothing in the morning to take his anger out on, no one to demand answers of.
All that's left is the tray.
He pushes it away with the edge of his foot now and considers Sylar's question.
Sylar likes questions.
Unmade
neshel and I'll be driving the Heroes Van for August! I have a wee obsession, and his name is Sylar. As such, he will be in most, if not all (I haven't finished deciding yet), of the fics I will be reccing this month.
Fandom: HEROES
Pairing: Peter/Sylar
Length: 16k in 2 parts
Author on LJ:
entangled_nowAuthor Website:
library_of_sol Fic MasterlistWhy this must be read:
I have been a big fan of
entangled_now's fic, in several fandoms, for a long time now; however, there is one fic that always jumps to the forefront of mind when I think of her, and this is it. Written from Peter's point of view, this fic takes place post V2 in the sparse, bleak setting of an all white cell, with a simple clear divider seperating him from his fellow prisoner: Sylar. Being captured and experimented on is a popular theme in the Heroes fanfic world, but this fic stands out prominently among them. Peter's panic, his despair, and the way he teeters on the edge of insanity is beautifully characterized. The connection he forms with Sylar, that they form with each other out of necessity, is deftly woven. The characterization displayed through Peter's thoughts and a series of conversations is brilliant.
This is a dark, harsh fic, that pulls no punches, but I promise you it is worth reading through to the end.
--
"I don't remember how I got here either."
Sylar's eyes sweep his face, a mistrustful search for lies, for anything underneath the words. He'll find nothing, nothing at all. Because it's true and Peter is as bewildered as him.
"Bennet," Sylar says quietly. "Bennet has a fondness for putting people in glass cases."
"Bennet wouldn't have done this." Peter says and Sylar's expression is question and irritation and something that might be disgust.
"Assuming people are incapable of things is at best stupidity and at worse immaturity."
"I never said he was incapable," Peter says angrily. "He left, he left the people that were tagging us, collecting us."
"So whoever they are, minus Bennet, it amounts to the same thing."
"Which is?"
"Captivity, torture, death."
"Trust you to assume the worst."
"It's not an assumption, it's experience," Sylar says simply, flatly.
--
The food stays the same, day after day after day it's the same dull selection of vegetables and meat products with the occasional burst of fruit generosity. Someone, somewhere has calculated the bare minimum amount of healthy food needed to keep two grown men alive and moving.
Judging by the artificial night they're forced to endure it's been at least a few weeks, Peter's going to lose track soon with nothing to write on and no way to tell the time. Though Sylar, infuriatingly, always seems to know what time and day it is.
Their captors have never once shown their faces or given any indication that they're anything other than observers.
Sometimes Peter even has his doubts about that. Maybe they're just feeding them and keeping them drugged and that's it.
Though that seems an incredible waste of resources.
It appears there are resources to waste though, the tray appears in the same place every morning, with no answers and no explanations. Peter has taken to leaving the empty tray in various parts of his cell, just out of curiosity, or possibly stubbornness.
The fact that they were both being drugged, regularly, in their sleep is something he could only be furious about for so long.
There's nothing in the morning to take his anger out on, no one to demand answers of.
All that's left is the tray.
He pushes it away with the edge of his foot now and considers Sylar's question.
Sylar likes questions.
Unmade