The "Dear Wired Magazine" series, by Everyone's lost but me! (PG-13)
Fandom: TRON
Pairing: Quorra/Sam
Length: ~30K words in 8 parts
Author on LJ: seriousfic
Author Website: http://fuckyeahmelancholy.tumblr.com/
Warnings: Fluff, angst
Why this must be read:
IMHO, most modern “romantic comedies” are neither funny, nor convincing love stories. This fic, however, is both. The author writes Quorra as a quirky naif and Sam as a smartass with issues, and manages to do so in a way that doesn’t make me want to claw my eyes out. In fact, I was charmed from the beginning, when Sam takes Quorra to her first fair:
"Alright. Whaddya wanna do first?"
Quorra just stared at the lit-up Ferris wheel, the big top rippling in the breeze, the million-and-one things to do that she'd never done. "It's so beautiful."
No. He was not going to do that thing when he looked at her face, as incredibly cute as it was, and said 'Yes, it is.' He wasn't Matthew McConaughey.
"Yes, but it smells funny."
She looked at him and laughed. Like he was Matthew McConaughey. She stifled it with a fist over her mouth, since she was still sorting out when was and wasn't an appropriate time to laugh. "Sorry. I would like you to win me a stuffed animal in a game of thrown projectiles first. It should be fluffy."
***
This was ridiculous. He had won in gladiatorial combat with a light disc, why was he having this much trouble knocking over a bunch of cans with a ball?
"Try to make the ball spin at a rate of at least four revolutions per seconds," Quorra suggested, kneading her hands together as she watched.
He missed again. Slapped another five down on the wooden counter. Eyed the man in the booth. "I am winning a member of the animal kingdom with stuffing inside it."
***
"I don't believe one of the victory conditions of thrown projectiles is to hit the operator in the crotch, grab an elephant, and run," Quorra said, clutching her elephant, running.
"That game was rigged," Sam replied. "In here."
They ducked into a sideshow. The only light came from a glowing cylinder with an "alien fetus" inside. Sam thought it looked more like the result of a one-night stand between a Cabbage Patch doll and a blowtorch.
"Okay," he said, after they'd switched jackets and security had probably drifted off. "What next?"
It’s a treat watching these two crazy kids flirt; learn about each other; deal with paparazzi, online commentators (“What does he see in this basic bitch? Does she even know how to color-coordinate? She looks like she's auditioning to play the first female Doctor Who”) and real person slash (“Why would anyone think Alan and I are having sex? Is it because I tweeted I'd go gay for Nathan Fillion? That's it, isn't it? It's not my fault, he's an amazing actor, and he seems like a very tender lover”); fall out; reconcile; go on the best date ever; and fend off assassins.
Seriously, Hollywood, take notes.
“ Dear Wired Magazine, I Never Thought This Would Happen to Me But...” (link to first chapter)
Pairing: Quorra/Sam
Length: ~30K words in 8 parts
Author on LJ: seriousfic
Author Website: http://fuckyeahmelancholy.tumblr.com/
Warnings: Fluff, angst
Why this must be read:
IMHO, most modern “romantic comedies” are neither funny, nor convincing love stories. This fic, however, is both. The author writes Quorra as a quirky naif and Sam as a smartass with issues, and manages to do so in a way that doesn’t make me want to claw my eyes out. In fact, I was charmed from the beginning, when Sam takes Quorra to her first fair:
"Alright. Whaddya wanna do first?"
Quorra just stared at the lit-up Ferris wheel, the big top rippling in the breeze, the million-and-one things to do that she'd never done. "It's so beautiful."
No. He was not going to do that thing when he looked at her face, as incredibly cute as it was, and said 'Yes, it is.' He wasn't Matthew McConaughey.
"Yes, but it smells funny."
She looked at him and laughed. Like he was Matthew McConaughey. She stifled it with a fist over her mouth, since she was still sorting out when was and wasn't an appropriate time to laugh. "Sorry. I would like you to win me a stuffed animal in a game of thrown projectiles first. It should be fluffy."
***
This was ridiculous. He had won in gladiatorial combat with a light disc, why was he having this much trouble knocking over a bunch of cans with a ball?
"Try to make the ball spin at a rate of at least four revolutions per seconds," Quorra suggested, kneading her hands together as she watched.
He missed again. Slapped another five down on the wooden counter. Eyed the man in the booth. "I am winning a member of the animal kingdom with stuffing inside it."
***
"I don't believe one of the victory conditions of thrown projectiles is to hit the operator in the crotch, grab an elephant, and run," Quorra said, clutching her elephant, running.
"That game was rigged," Sam replied. "In here."
They ducked into a sideshow. The only light came from a glowing cylinder with an "alien fetus" inside. Sam thought it looked more like the result of a one-night stand between a Cabbage Patch doll and a blowtorch.
"Okay," he said, after they'd switched jackets and security had probably drifted off. "What next?"
It’s a treat watching these two crazy kids flirt; learn about each other; deal with paparazzi, online commentators (“What does he see in this basic bitch? Does she even know how to color-coordinate? She looks like she's auditioning to play the first female Doctor Who”) and real person slash (“Why would anyone think Alan and I are having sex? Is it because I tweeted I'd go gay for Nathan Fillion? That's it, isn't it? It's not my fault, he's an amazing actor, and he seems like a very tender lover”); fall out; reconcile; go on the best date ever; and fend off assassins.
Seriously, Hollywood, take notes.
“ Dear Wired Magazine, I Never Thought This Would Happen to Me But...” (link to first chapter)