Epic Fic Post
We have some really long ongoing fics in the kinkmeme, and I thought it might be nice if we had a seperate place to keep track of them all. Any fics over 20-30ish chapters and spawning two or more memes should have links to at least the first post on each meme here. Ideally, I'd want links to every individual story thread with something saying
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The ride to Jon’s house is quiet, pleasantly so -- that is, until Laurie catches Larry’s eye in the rearview mirror and sees the hint of anger there, the hard set of his mouth that means she’s done something wrong, though she can’t figure out what. Perhaps she’s being too affectionate with Jon…but no, that doesn’t make any sense. Out of all her real friends, Jon is the only one her dad actually likes. He’d been thrilled, in fact, to learn that they were going to the dance together.
When they pull up at Jon’s place, Laurie announces that she’s going to walk him to the door, and hops out without giving Larry a chance to object. They kiss at the front door, quick and chaste, but it is her first-ever goodnight kiss, and that might be enough to get her through whatever fit her dad is about to throw.
She slides back into the car and immediately spots the problem, heart sinking. On the stretch of seat between her and Larry is an English assignment from several weeks back. It bears an A-, but somehow she suspects In this instance, the content matters more than the grade.
“Dad, I can --”
He cuts her off without looking at her, eyes focused straight ahead on the road. “We'll discuss it when we get home, young lady.”
Laurie stares glumly out the window, wishing he'd at least turn on the radio or something. The silence stretches on, even more oppressive now, without the pleasant distraction of Jon beside her. She tries to formulate excuses, but really, there is nothing to excuse, and her mind keeps sliding away from rational thought toward dread of the clearly upcoming argument.
Finally the car comes to a stop, and she trails miserably inside after her dad. “Sit,” he says, pointing at the couch. She does, and he tosses the paper on the coffee table, looming angrily over her.
“It's just a story,” she blurts out. “It was an assignment, to write a science fiction or fantasy story, and my teacher really liked it --”
“And what about these?” he demands, pulling two very familiar notebooks from a shelf. “More English assignments?” Sarcasm drips from his voice.
“You went through my things,” she says, welcoming the anger that is creeping into her own voice.
“I wouldn't have to you if you weren’t lying to me,” he replies, and the truth of it sends a twinge of guilt through her, but the unfairness spurs her on.
“How dare you --” The words are overdramatic, childishly so, weakening any argument she might have had, but they’re out of her mouth before she can stop them.
“How dare you disobey me!” he hisses, suddenly in her face. “You live in my house, young lady, and while you do, you'll follow my rules.” Eyes blazing, she opens her mouth, about ready to tell him where he can shove his ridiculous rules, but, probably luckily for her, he cuts her off again, only getting started. “Everything you have - this apartment, your bedroom, that dress, the pen and paper to write this foolishness,” he shakes the notebooks at her, “I pay for. These are my things and I will go through them if I please.”
He flips through the books, and she curses herself and her friends for dating so many entries. “I told you I wanted no more of this. I think you know I didn't mean writing little stories instead of running around in the woods. How many hours to be spent on this when you could've been doing schoolwork, or out having a life like a normal 13-year-old girl?”
She's doing fine in school and she does have a life -- as evidenced by the lovely evening he‘s in the process of ruining -- but he doesn't give her a chance to respond. “Well, I'm going to be very clear this time. I don't want you hanging around Dan or Walter anymore. I don't care for their influence. I don't want to hear about them and you're not to speak to them unless it is strictly school related. And no more ’Watchmen’ stuff,” he adds, managing to make it sound like a dirty word.
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She can tell he’s winding down, getting to the part about how he has her best interests in mind, but before he gets a chance, Sally appears in the doorway, wearing a nightgown and a scowl. “Go to your room, Laurie,” she says, and Laurie complies, slamming the door and collapsing onto the bed, tears brimming in her eyes. It's not long before shouting echoes through the house, snippets of it reaching her ears.
“-- needs to get her head out of the clouds, damnit!”
“She’s still a child, and --”
She's torn between not wanting to hear this and dying to know what they're saying about her. Finally the curiosity wins out, and she creeps out into the hall.
“-- changed since we were kids. You separated me from my friends, from people I cared about, and you will not do the same to my child!”
“Your child is living in my house and she will do as I say!”
“What the hell do you think you're doing?”
The response is muffled, but Sally's “You will not!” is clear as day. At the sound of a scuffle, Laurie retreats back into her room, curling up on the bed, back pressed to the headboard, knees hugged to her chest. She feels numb and exhausted, mined buzzing blankly, watching with mild, detached interest as tears fall on to her dress, little dark blue splotches spreading on the fabric. She begins to drift, and has just about fallen into a fitful sleep when the door opens nearly an hour later. She startles back to full awareness as Sally crawls onto the bed beside her, holding the notebooks.
“He ripped out a few pages before I could stop him, but I think I taped them back in the right order,” she says, passing them over. Laurie flips through and nods listlessly, sniffling, and then she’s sobbing into her mother’s shoulder. Sally holds her, stroking her hair gently. When she’s calmed down, she says softly, “He really is trying to look out for you. He just doesn't know he's doing it all wrong.”
“It's not fair,” Laurie sniffs, hating the childishness, but unable to help it.
It is unfair. Unreasonable, too, and she's already told Larry that. To Laurie, she says, “Don't let him tell you who you can be friends with. Dan and Walter are good boys. He'd know that if he bothered to get to know them.”
Something in her voice makes Laurie look up. “Like Eddie was a good boy?”
Sally chuckles softly. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Why doesn't Dad like him?” She's not sure why she's asking this now, but somehow it seems to fit.
Sally smiles wistfully. “I'll tell you when you're older.” It’s an answer Laurie hates, but she knows that’s all she’ll get out of her mother on the subject.
They talk well into the night, and by the time Sally gets up and returns to her own room, Laurie is fast asleep on the bed beside her.
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And Larry. Seriously, if I ever write a book about parenting adolescents, one whole chapter would be DO NOT GO THROUGH THEIR STUFF, THEY WILL NEVER EVER EVER TRUST YOU AGAIN. EVER. AND THEY'LL BE ALL PISSED IN THE FIRST PLACE. This is actually the first part of this I've read, since I'm one of those hypocrites who writes epics but doesn't read other people's until they're done, but it's very good.
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