Fangirly Friday
Greetings, fellow fans! Under the cut you'll find 13 fic recs in 13 different fandoms, mostly book-based ones (variety is the spice of life, as they say). The fandoms are sorted alphabetically for your tidy-minded pleasure. I hope you'll find something you enjoy, and please remember to tell the authors if you do!
(Mods, I'm a little unsure whether to tag the last rec as 'Peter Pan', seeing as it's based on a particular book, but I will do as you think best. <3)
Fandom: Around the World in Eighty Days
Title: Constant is Change
Author: rainbowjehan
Link: Here
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Summary [mine]: Nine years after the events of the novel, Fix is back in London, determined to set things right.
Why I fangirl this: Because Phileas Fogg and Princess Aouda aren't the only ones who deserve to be paired up. *g* This is a charming, well-written coda to Jules Verne's novel, uplifting, funny, and touching at the same time. I walked around with a big grin on my face for days after having read it.
Excerpt:
"I wondered if you were still living here with Mr. Fogg."
"Of course," said Passepartout proudly. "As if I'd leave him. Mr. Fogg is the best master a man might have, and, Monsieur Fix," he glanced at Fix coldly, "one of the most honourable."
"I don't doubt it."
"You did."
"And I admit I was wrong."
"Nine years later!" Passepartout cried indignantly.
"And at the time when I first realised my mistake. I'm sure you remember."
"Of course! Mr. Fogg was splendid. I'd no idea he could use his fists that way."
"Mm," said Fix feelingly, rubbing his jaw.
~~~
Fandom: Crime and Punishment
Title: Punishment and Grace
Author: Dorinda
Link: Here
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Summary: A scene set during Chapter 3, when Raskolnikov wakes from his fever and Razumikhin looks after him, plus an epilogue. "It was a great love, a faithfulness that could not be borne any longer."
Why I fangirl this: I'm amazed by how well this story captures Raskolnikov's inner thoughts. The writing is gorgeous and the characterisations impeccable, Razumikhin's devotion heartbreakingly juxtaposed with Raskolnikov's attempts at withdrawal.
Excerpt:
"Oh, you are ill, Rodion Romanovich, and no mistake," said Razumikhin, peering into each of his eyes in turn. "But we shall soon have you well again. You just haven't eaten properly. So you'll eat what Nastasya brings you, won't you, there's a good fellow."
Intolerable. This closeness, the pressure of his limbs, even his cool breath brushing across Raskolnikov's brow...It felt cold and seething at once, a river whirlpool, and tangled round him like fresh spiderwebs. Why must everyone press against him so? Why would Razumikhin not see that Raskolnikov could no longer be touched, that he was sinking further and further away, into a realm where Razumikhin could not and must not follow?
Throughout his delirium, Razumikhin had been close by. Flashes of memory came to him, but enough remained dark and confused that he could not be certain he had not given himself away. And with every second Razumikhin remained so close, the danger surely heightened. He must be gone, he must! Not only from Raskolnikov's side, but from his life entire! But sunken into himself, watching Razumikhin's face showing every shade of feeling, like wisps of summer cloud, Raskolnikov knew he must be careful. If he pushed Razumikhin, ordered him, even struck him, Razumikhin would surely just blink his warm, puzzled eyes and hold him closer, pity and cherish him, call back the doctor. It was a great love, a faithfulness that could not be borne any longer. He took a breath, and with a convulsive shudder he let the red haze creep up over his vision once more, backing into a corner of his mind like a desperate and wounded beast.
~~~
Fandom: The Da Vinci Code
Title: The Book and the Sword
Author: Matilde
Link: Here
Rating: R
Status: Complete
Summary: Memories and reflections in Silas' and Aringarosa's lives. (slight AU)
Why I fangirl this: Although I wasn't impressed by The Da Vinci Code, I did want to know more about Silas and Bishop Aringarosa, and this captivating story explains so much about them. It gives me the chills, but in a beautiful, haunting way.
Excerpt:
"Father Ignacio says God has a sword in one hand, and a book in the other," he explains with a touch of arrogance in his child's voice. "And the men of el Caudillo are His sword, and the men of the Church are His book."
"Father Ignacio says a lot of things," Clara dismisses with a sigh. Her fiancé - Manuel thinks he remembers her talking about him, but he rarely pays much attention - has gone with the army somewhere in the North to destroy the rebels that live on the frontier. The Reds, they are called. Red, the color of Hell, as father Ignacio often points, red, a color they embraced themselves, out of their own free will, like an open rejection of the love of Christ. Some of God's signs are clearer than others. Manuel knows that if father Ignacio hadn't become a priest, he would be a soldier too. He's young enough and strong enough to fight, and often his eyes become narrow and his gestures quicken and it seems like the words of his sermons are no longer enough to express his righteous anger.
Someone calls out something from a window across the street, and it resonates in the solemn silence of the soldiers' departure, strange and shocking ; Manuel's heart freezes for a moment - was it an insult? He couldn't make it out. But Clara's hands don't tighten on his shoulders and he immediately hears the soldiers responding with their cry of battle, the powerful, radical cry of their sacrifice, the one that makes Manuel's breath hitch every time he hears it. The one that reminds him of the cross, of the blood, and paralyses his mind with fascination. Their voices rise three times.
"¡Viva la muerte!"
~~~
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Title: Her Rightful Place
Author: Luthien
Link: Here
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Summary: Emily discovers that it's best to be careful what you wish for because you might just get it.
Why I fangirl this: I'm always in awe when an author can write a spot-on, ic story about an unsympathetic character, and still make me feel for her/him. I also have a weakness for the outsider's POV, and Emily is definitely an outsider here -- an uncomprehending witness to the development of Andy and Miranda's relationship. A lovely story, funny and painful in all the right places.
Excerpt:
Emily's so shocked that she almost asks Miranda if she wants anything else. Something has happened in the hour and a half since Miranda left the office for the lunch appointment identified only as "personal" in the schedule. This morning, Miranda had grudgingly granted Emily an extra ten minutes on her lunch break so that she could go to the doctor's office, with the rider that it was hardly before time to get the cast taken off since 'No reasonable person would think that graceful deportment should be too much to ask for in my personal staff.' And then, this afternoon, Emily returns to... this. Something has happened, but Emily has no idea what that something might be.
She pulls herself together and seats herself at her desk, opening Miranda's schedule for the rest of the week and cross-checking against her 'to do' list. Across the room, Samantha's eyes are like saucers, but she doesn't say anything. She's learnt that much in the time she's been here. Samantha - 'Call me Sam' - reminds Emily all too much of Andrea, except that Samantha at least has some inherent interest in fashion. That, and she lacks Andrea's irritating knack for unexpected competence. Fortunately, Miranda tolerates her, though nothing more than that - so she's unlike Andrea there, too.
Emily glances briefly in the direction of Miranda's desk and takes very great care not to notice that Miranda's just sitting there, staring into space.
~~~
Fandom: Earthsea
Title: The Dragon Year
Author: espresso_addict
Link: Here
Rating: 12
Status: Complete
Summary: Flint can no more comprehend his wife of a week than talk to a dragon.
Why I fangirl this: First of all, I'm proud of having prompted this story. Second, this is a beautiful portrayal of Tenar's relationship with her first husband, Flint: a farmer and an ordinary man, who doesn't understand his foreign wife, but who still loves her. It's the meeting of Atuan and Gont, of strange forces and everyday life, and it's masterfully told.
Excerpt:
Flint fetched the lantern from the lean-to. The sleet had stopped while he was inside, and the stars were out above the mountain. Before he set out, something made him go back into the kitchen. It was as if he might somehow repeat his earlier homecoming and get it right this time: his dinner steaming on the table, the fire crackling, and his wife smiling up at him.
She was standing by the hearth, as white and cold and silent as the ashes.
He stood like a post and stared at her, the lantern swinging in his hand and casting crazy shadows that chased each other around the walls. Afterwards he wondered what he'd been looking for, waterweed twined in her hair?
He set the lantern down on the table with a heavy clunk and went towards her. As his shadow touched her, she shuddered. Anger born from the death of his grief welled up inside him. 'Why weren't you here when I got back?' he said. He took her hand. It was as cold as if it had been carved from ice. He rubbed it between his own.
She tried to pull away. 'Don't,' she said.
He folded her in his arms. She struggled for a moment, then sagged against his body. 'Why weren't you here,' he said, stroking her face over and over. 'Why weren't you here.'
~~~
Fandom: Harry Potter
Title: Flowering and Deflowering
Author: wwmrsweasleydo
Link: Here
Rating: Adult
Status: Complete
Summary: A mystery at Smeltings.
Why I fangirl this: I've been somewhat obsessed with Dudley Dursley lately, and this is the story that started it all. Hilarious and hot, it's a short fic about how Dudley discovers that some things -- such as flowers -- really aren't that bad. The cast is all-Muggle, but don't let that scare you; not once did I miss Harry & Co. The ending would make Severus Snape howl with laughter.
Excerpt:
"See you in prep." Piers stepped away. "Watkins minor gave us his Greek to copy."
"Nice one." Dudley swaggered up the stairs, pushing a couple of First Years out of the way.
As he retrieved his stick from his study bedroom, he noticed that there was something on his pillow. Something red. He moved over to the bed. It was a flower. He didn't know anything about flowers (he wasn't a pansy) so he didn't know what it was called. His expensive education meant that he could name its parts: stamen, sepal, stem ... What the fuck it was doing on his pillow, though: that was a mystery.
He lifted it casually and somehow didn't quite manage to drop it in the bin, instead sticking it out of sight between two sheets of tissue paper at the back of his dictionary. If that happened to press it, never mind. He didn't care one way or another.
He had a full and active life: Nerds had to have their heads flushed, geeks had to be persuaded to write his essays, wimps had to hand over their tuck and weirdos simply refused to wedgie themselves.
He tried to concentrate on these, the important things in life, but confusion about that flower distracted him. Someone must have put it there. There weren't any girls in the school. There had to be an explanation. It must mean something.
~~~
Fandom: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Title: Party Aliens
Author: daegaer
Link: Here
Rating: R
Status: Complete
Summary [mine]: Ford brings a scandalised Arthur to one of the Guide's office parties. A little coaxing to get in the party spirit is needed.
Why I fangirl this: There is nothing I don't love about this story -- it's hilarous, sexy, in-character, written in a wonderful Douglas Adams-like style, full of brilliant little details and quirks that make it read like a lost chapter from the books. Because, of course, Ford/Arthur is just meant to be.
Excerpt:
'Stop it,' Arthur said, as Ford nuzzled into his hair. 'It's not nice.'
'What? No one on Earth ever even kissed someone in public?' Ford said, giggling.
'Not me,' Arthur said, trying to ignore the incredulous laughter beside him. 'And if I did, it was different.'
'Ah,' Ford said solemnly, 'because it involved members of your own species or because they were female?'
'Er,' Arthur said, suddenly aware he was quite close to being rather rude to Ford. 'No, er. It was just different, all right?'
He took a deep drink to cover his confusion, and Ford smiled widely. Arthur lowered his glass suspiciously. Ford's smiles were usually crazy and worrying. This one was crazy, worrying and calculating.
~~~
Fandom: Horatio Hornblower (the novels)
Title: Telemachos: Or, The Genealogy of Buggery
Author: Resonant
Link: Here
Rating: Adult
Status: Complete
Summary: A venerable Navy tradition is passed along.
Why I fangirl this: I think this story could serve as a marvellous example of how to write sex scenes, especially in historic fandoms -- the language is gorgeous without being purple, honest without being coarse, always making it clear what happens without reading like a biology textbook, as it were. The story is scorching hot (my first reaction was a none-too-eloquent keyboard smash), but it's worth reading for the elegant writing alone.
Excerpt:
But he didn't think Longley was asleep. He could hardly have said how, unless a certain muscle tension was transmitting itself from one body to another, but he was somehow convinced that Longley was awake and that the touch was intentional. And the next moment proved him right, as Longley's thumb swept over his thigh: slow and cautious, but unmistakably a caress.
Now came the difficult part: to signal his own willingness to participate, while at the same time doing nothing that would later allow his conscience to accuse him of inveigling a subordinate, a youth hardly out of adolescence, into breaking the laws of God and man. He hadn't been in this situation for many years, and he'd never been in it with the additional complication of being captain. And he could never forgive himself if he misused his authority.
He wondered how Pellew had managed the moral quandary, though he supposed he himself had rather taken matters into his own hands, as it were, leaving the captain with only the necessity of making him stop or letting him continue.
Now he began to understand the smile that had appeared on his captain's face before he'd kissed it clumsily away.
He himself smiled without opening his eyes.
~~~
Fandom: Keeping Up Appearances
Title: Beneath the Wallpaper
Author: purplefluffycat
Link: Here
Rating: R
Status: Complete
Summary: Elizabeth acquires some new wallpaper; Richard is sent to investigate.
Why I fangirl this: This fic was written for meeeee, and I love it to bits -- it hits so many of my kinks, from the delightful humour to the spot-on characterisation to the way Richard finds sudden and unexpected happiness next door (thanks to Hyacinth's wild schemes, at that). purplefluffycat's stories are always a treat to read; I keep hoping for more KUA fic from her.
Excerpt:
The back door had barely closed behind Elizabeth's slightly-tea-spattered form before the tirade started. "I simply do not believe that's possible! How could she be going around buying Liberty wallpaper? The hand-printed, limited-edition sort, as well! There must be some mistake."
Richard looked up from his newspaper. He considered just trying to hide behind it, but some sort of response was clearly going to be necessary. "Perhaps she just liked it."
Hyacinth assumed her expression that informed him he had been irredeemably stupid. "Well of course, she liked it, Richard. What sort of right-thinking person wouldn't like it? No, the question is, how on earth could our neighbour - who is probably subsisting on some sort of spinster's allowance from her husband who's never there - possibly stretch to the very finest wallpaper this nation can produce?" An anxious glance about their own sitting room and a shake of the head. "We'll have to redecorate. Every room."
~~~
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Title: Lomendánar (Little Love for the Things of My Love)
Author: vulgarweed
Link: Here
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Summary: The Shepherds of the Trees have drawn a bitter lot, and no one knows this better than one who was different.
Why I fangirl this: It's rare to find a story from the perspective of an Ent. To find a beautifully-written, heart-rendering love story from the perspective of an Ent, however, is even rarer. This gorgeous, melancholy tale, written mostly as a monologue from Skinbark's POV, has the added advantage of making you see a certain canon character in a completely new light.
Excerpt:
Hear me, O Kementári, Yavanna. For who other has the length of years to hear my lament, and who other has the desire?
Will you send your sister, the grey-cloaked, the sorrowing, to walk among us, in our lomendánar, our gloaming?
Even the tears of the Valar are not our tears. Even your long years are not ours.
I will tell my tale in mine own tongue, for the Children of Ilúvatar who gave us their language come no more beneath our branches. The Firstborn are no longer in their power, and the Secondborn are no longer young, so I perceive our doom is near at hand.
Would only that we could only pass away with our charge fulfilled, and the trees we loved no longer endangered by careless axe and cruel design. Alas, I fear they shall suffer even more in the ages to come without us.
Let me tell you what I have known. I beg of you to listen to me, Lady, for I know you have more years to spare than even I.
~~~
Fandom: Mean Girls
Title: Sink
Author: salmon_pink
Link: Here
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete
Summary: The fighting doesn't really stop, it just takes a different tack.
Why I fangirl this: The summary says it all, really -- this is hot, vicious enemy!sex at its finest. Both Janis and Regina are extremely in-character, and even as they fling insults at each other, there's the shadow of their former friendship underneath it all, giving the story a melancholy tinge.
Excerpt:
“And why should I be careful?” Janis snapped back with as much sarcastic curiosity as she could muster. She knew she was walking into a trap, knew that she was only giving Regina the perfect opening for more acid insults, but she refused to leave the deliberate tease hanging. They did a pretty good job of avoiding each other around school, but there were some places that were common ground, such as Ms. Tindley’s Spanish class and the girl’s bathroom which they were currently squaring off in. And Janis wasn’t about to let this latest feud spill out into the corridors, preferred to keep it here, private, away from prying eyes and Regina’s pack of yipping sidekicks.
Regina tilted her head in that innocent, doe-like way she’d perfected before they even hit puberty, arms folding over her chest. “Because, silly, it’s a privilege for you to be able to use the girl’s bathroom as it is. You don’t want to be seen causing any kind of trouble in here, do you? It wouldn’t be that difficult for someone to start a petition insisting you only use the men’s…”
Oh, Janis was going to kill her.
~~~
Fandom: Moby-Dick
Title: Taniwha
Author: norah
Link: Here
Rating: R
Status: Complete
Summary [mine]: A retelling of the opening of Moby-Dick from Queequeg's point of view.
Why I fangirl this: Taniwha is a triumph. Not only is it a beautiful love story, it's also full of nuances and depth, exploring the story of a character who's constantly seen as 'the Other' in canon, and giving him a voice and a gaze of his own. It's everything I love about fanfic, and more.
Excerpt:
It was perhaps my fatigue that caused me to overlook the other body beneath the covers; fatigue, and the sheer surprise of it. The Spouter was cheap and mean, sure, but I had thought that my coin had ensured that my narrow bed at least was my own. In any case, I saw him not until I had put my things away, and sung my karakia to cleanse myself of the day’s tapu.
I brought out my little tiki carving, a crude likeness of the atua I’d found many voyages ago on a strange island, but which nonetheless reminded me of home. Out of whimsy, I had taken up the habit of offering it a bit of biscuit in the evenings, like the burnt offerings of the Roman Christians or the incense of the East. That done, I lit my pipe (a soothing indulgence I’d picked up from my fellow sailors) and climbed into my bed.
I noticed him then; how could I not? His yell was loud enough to raise the dead, and had I not had my pipe clamped firm between my teeth, I might have shouted as well. I attempted to restrain the intruder as he thrashed about in the blankets and shouted incoherently, and urged him to identify himself.
~~~
Fandom: Peter and Wendy
Title: A Hundred Years Ago
Author: trifles
Link: Here
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Summary [mine]: Wendy gets to know Peter's nightmares.
Why I fangirl this: This story leaves me breathless every time I read it. It's devastatingly painful, in the best of ways -- as beautiful and merciless as Peter Pan himself. When I first found it, my memories of the canon was somewhat murky and I therefore didn't see where the story was going at first, which made the ending even more shocking. But even upon rereading, I can't help being floored by how utterly brilliant and powerful this is, the apparent simplicity of style perfectly showcasing the underlying sadness of Neverland.
Excerpt:
She nearly missed the next dream down. It had slipped to one side and got caught in the lining. Wendy wondered what possible dream it could be. She pried it out gently, and tried to smooth it as best as possible. It was an odd picture she saw in there. She didn't quite know what to make of it.
A boy -- that tall one she'd seen twice before, with the blue eyes and pale skin -- and a very small mirror. He was staring at it, and seemed to be saying things very quietly. The angle from which she viewed him doing this was awkward, as if someone had happened upon something that they were not certain they should be witnessing. A moment later (for really, this is Peter, and he does not approve of such things as good manners, though he is perfectly capable of them if no one tells him so) the image rushed forward and pulled the startled pale boy away from his mirror, and the dream, as Wendy thought it was, ended there.
Wendy, for all that she is very good and motherly, was not terribly knowing about some things. If she were really clever, she would have known to ask me what it was the boy with the mirror had been saying.
But as I like Wendy, I showed her the way of charming the full story from these things: She turned the whole dream over and watched it from the other side.
(Mods, I'm a little unsure whether to tag the last rec as 'Peter Pan', seeing as it's based on a particular book, but I will do as you think best. <3)
Fandom: Around the World in Eighty Days
Title: Constant is Change
Author: rainbowjehan
Link: Here
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Summary [mine]: Nine years after the events of the novel, Fix is back in London, determined to set things right.
Why I fangirl this: Because Phileas Fogg and Princess Aouda aren't the only ones who deserve to be paired up. *g* This is a charming, well-written coda to Jules Verne's novel, uplifting, funny, and touching at the same time. I walked around with a big grin on my face for days after having read it.
Excerpt:
"I wondered if you were still living here with Mr. Fogg."
"Of course," said Passepartout proudly. "As if I'd leave him. Mr. Fogg is the best master a man might have, and, Monsieur Fix," he glanced at Fix coldly, "one of the most honourable."
"I don't doubt it."
"You did."
"And I admit I was wrong."
"Nine years later!" Passepartout cried indignantly.
"And at the time when I first realised my mistake. I'm sure you remember."
"Of course! Mr. Fogg was splendid. I'd no idea he could use his fists that way."
"Mm," said Fix feelingly, rubbing his jaw.
~~~
Fandom: Crime and Punishment
Title: Punishment and Grace
Author: Dorinda
Link: Here
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Summary: A scene set during Chapter 3, when Raskolnikov wakes from his fever and Razumikhin looks after him, plus an epilogue. "It was a great love, a faithfulness that could not be borne any longer."
Why I fangirl this: I'm amazed by how well this story captures Raskolnikov's inner thoughts. The writing is gorgeous and the characterisations impeccable, Razumikhin's devotion heartbreakingly juxtaposed with Raskolnikov's attempts at withdrawal.
Excerpt:
"Oh, you are ill, Rodion Romanovich, and no mistake," said Razumikhin, peering into each of his eyes in turn. "But we shall soon have you well again. You just haven't eaten properly. So you'll eat what Nastasya brings you, won't you, there's a good fellow."
Intolerable. This closeness, the pressure of his limbs, even his cool breath brushing across Raskolnikov's brow...It felt cold and seething at once, a river whirlpool, and tangled round him like fresh spiderwebs. Why must everyone press against him so? Why would Razumikhin not see that Raskolnikov could no longer be touched, that he was sinking further and further away, into a realm where Razumikhin could not and must not follow?
Throughout his delirium, Razumikhin had been close by. Flashes of memory came to him, but enough remained dark and confused that he could not be certain he had not given himself away. And with every second Razumikhin remained so close, the danger surely heightened. He must be gone, he must! Not only from Raskolnikov's side, but from his life entire! But sunken into himself, watching Razumikhin's face showing every shade of feeling, like wisps of summer cloud, Raskolnikov knew he must be careful. If he pushed Razumikhin, ordered him, even struck him, Razumikhin would surely just blink his warm, puzzled eyes and hold him closer, pity and cherish him, call back the doctor. It was a great love, a faithfulness that could not be borne any longer. He took a breath, and with a convulsive shudder he let the red haze creep up over his vision once more, backing into a corner of his mind like a desperate and wounded beast.
~~~
Fandom: The Da Vinci Code
Title: The Book and the Sword
Author: Matilde
Link: Here
Rating: R
Status: Complete
Summary: Memories and reflections in Silas' and Aringarosa's lives. (slight AU)
Why I fangirl this: Although I wasn't impressed by The Da Vinci Code, I did want to know more about Silas and Bishop Aringarosa, and this captivating story explains so much about them. It gives me the chills, but in a beautiful, haunting way.
Excerpt:
"Father Ignacio says God has a sword in one hand, and a book in the other," he explains with a touch of arrogance in his child's voice. "And the men of el Caudillo are His sword, and the men of the Church are His book."
"Father Ignacio says a lot of things," Clara dismisses with a sigh. Her fiancé - Manuel thinks he remembers her talking about him, but he rarely pays much attention - has gone with the army somewhere in the North to destroy the rebels that live on the frontier. The Reds, they are called. Red, the color of Hell, as father Ignacio often points, red, a color they embraced themselves, out of their own free will, like an open rejection of the love of Christ. Some of God's signs are clearer than others. Manuel knows that if father Ignacio hadn't become a priest, he would be a soldier too. He's young enough and strong enough to fight, and often his eyes become narrow and his gestures quicken and it seems like the words of his sermons are no longer enough to express his righteous anger.
Someone calls out something from a window across the street, and it resonates in the solemn silence of the soldiers' departure, strange and shocking ; Manuel's heart freezes for a moment - was it an insult? He couldn't make it out. But Clara's hands don't tighten on his shoulders and he immediately hears the soldiers responding with their cry of battle, the powerful, radical cry of their sacrifice, the one that makes Manuel's breath hitch every time he hears it. The one that reminds him of the cross, of the blood, and paralyses his mind with fascination. Their voices rise three times.
"¡Viva la muerte!"
~~~
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada
Title: Her Rightful Place
Author: Luthien
Link: Here
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Summary: Emily discovers that it's best to be careful what you wish for because you might just get it.
Why I fangirl this: I'm always in awe when an author can write a spot-on, ic story about an unsympathetic character, and still make me feel for her/him. I also have a weakness for the outsider's POV, and Emily is definitely an outsider here -- an uncomprehending witness to the development of Andy and Miranda's relationship. A lovely story, funny and painful in all the right places.
Excerpt:
Emily's so shocked that she almost asks Miranda if she wants anything else. Something has happened in the hour and a half since Miranda left the office for the lunch appointment identified only as "personal" in the schedule. This morning, Miranda had grudgingly granted Emily an extra ten minutes on her lunch break so that she could go to the doctor's office, with the rider that it was hardly before time to get the cast taken off since 'No reasonable person would think that graceful deportment should be too much to ask for in my personal staff.' And then, this afternoon, Emily returns to... this. Something has happened, but Emily has no idea what that something might be.
She pulls herself together and seats herself at her desk, opening Miranda's schedule for the rest of the week and cross-checking against her 'to do' list. Across the room, Samantha's eyes are like saucers, but she doesn't say anything. She's learnt that much in the time she's been here. Samantha - 'Call me Sam' - reminds Emily all too much of Andrea, except that Samantha at least has some inherent interest in fashion. That, and she lacks Andrea's irritating knack for unexpected competence. Fortunately, Miranda tolerates her, though nothing more than that - so she's unlike Andrea there, too.
Emily glances briefly in the direction of Miranda's desk and takes very great care not to notice that Miranda's just sitting there, staring into space.
~~~
Fandom: Earthsea
Title: The Dragon Year
Author: espresso_addict
Link: Here
Rating: 12
Status: Complete
Summary: Flint can no more comprehend his wife of a week than talk to a dragon.
Why I fangirl this: First of all, I'm proud of having prompted this story. Second, this is a beautiful portrayal of Tenar's relationship with her first husband, Flint: a farmer and an ordinary man, who doesn't understand his foreign wife, but who still loves her. It's the meeting of Atuan and Gont, of strange forces and everyday life, and it's masterfully told.
Excerpt:
Flint fetched the lantern from the lean-to. The sleet had stopped while he was inside, and the stars were out above the mountain. Before he set out, something made him go back into the kitchen. It was as if he might somehow repeat his earlier homecoming and get it right this time: his dinner steaming on the table, the fire crackling, and his wife smiling up at him.
She was standing by the hearth, as white and cold and silent as the ashes.
He stood like a post and stared at her, the lantern swinging in his hand and casting crazy shadows that chased each other around the walls. Afterwards he wondered what he'd been looking for, waterweed twined in her hair?
He set the lantern down on the table with a heavy clunk and went towards her. As his shadow touched her, she shuddered. Anger born from the death of his grief welled up inside him. 'Why weren't you here when I got back?' he said. He took her hand. It was as cold as if it had been carved from ice. He rubbed it between his own.
She tried to pull away. 'Don't,' she said.
He folded her in his arms. She struggled for a moment, then sagged against his body. 'Why weren't you here,' he said, stroking her face over and over. 'Why weren't you here.'
~~~
Fandom: Harry Potter
Title: Flowering and Deflowering
Author: wwmrsweasleydo
Link: Here
Rating: Adult
Status: Complete
Summary: A mystery at Smeltings.
Why I fangirl this: I've been somewhat obsessed with Dudley Dursley lately, and this is the story that started it all. Hilarious and hot, it's a short fic about how Dudley discovers that some things -- such as flowers -- really aren't that bad. The cast is all-Muggle, but don't let that scare you; not once did I miss Harry & Co. The ending would make Severus Snape howl with laughter.
Excerpt:
"See you in prep." Piers stepped away. "Watkins minor gave us his Greek to copy."
"Nice one." Dudley swaggered up the stairs, pushing a couple of First Years out of the way.
As he retrieved his stick from his study bedroom, he noticed that there was something on his pillow. Something red. He moved over to the bed. It was a flower. He didn't know anything about flowers (he wasn't a pansy) so he didn't know what it was called. His expensive education meant that he could name its parts: stamen, sepal, stem ... What the fuck it was doing on his pillow, though: that was a mystery.
He lifted it casually and somehow didn't quite manage to drop it in the bin, instead sticking it out of sight between two sheets of tissue paper at the back of his dictionary. If that happened to press it, never mind. He didn't care one way or another.
He had a full and active life: Nerds had to have their heads flushed, geeks had to be persuaded to write his essays, wimps had to hand over their tuck and weirdos simply refused to wedgie themselves.
He tried to concentrate on these, the important things in life, but confusion about that flower distracted him. Someone must have put it there. There weren't any girls in the school. There had to be an explanation. It must mean something.
~~~
Fandom: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Title: Party Aliens
Author: daegaer
Link: Here
Rating: R
Status: Complete
Summary [mine]: Ford brings a scandalised Arthur to one of the Guide's office parties. A little coaxing to get in the party spirit is needed.
Why I fangirl this: There is nothing I don't love about this story -- it's hilarous, sexy, in-character, written in a wonderful Douglas Adams-like style, full of brilliant little details and quirks that make it read like a lost chapter from the books. Because, of course, Ford/Arthur is just meant to be.
Excerpt:
'Stop it,' Arthur said, as Ford nuzzled into his hair. 'It's not nice.'
'What? No one on Earth ever even kissed someone in public?' Ford said, giggling.
'Not me,' Arthur said, trying to ignore the incredulous laughter beside him. 'And if I did, it was different.'
'Ah,' Ford said solemnly, 'because it involved members of your own species or because they were female?'
'Er,' Arthur said, suddenly aware he was quite close to being rather rude to Ford. 'No, er. It was just different, all right?'
He took a deep drink to cover his confusion, and Ford smiled widely. Arthur lowered his glass suspiciously. Ford's smiles were usually crazy and worrying. This one was crazy, worrying and calculating.
~~~
Fandom: Horatio Hornblower (the novels)
Title: Telemachos: Or, The Genealogy of Buggery
Author: Resonant
Link: Here
Rating: Adult
Status: Complete
Summary: A venerable Navy tradition is passed along.
Why I fangirl this: I think this story could serve as a marvellous example of how to write sex scenes, especially in historic fandoms -- the language is gorgeous without being purple, honest without being coarse, always making it clear what happens without reading like a biology textbook, as it were. The story is scorching hot (my first reaction was a none-too-eloquent keyboard smash), but it's worth reading for the elegant writing alone.
Excerpt:
But he didn't think Longley was asleep. He could hardly have said how, unless a certain muscle tension was transmitting itself from one body to another, but he was somehow convinced that Longley was awake and that the touch was intentional. And the next moment proved him right, as Longley's thumb swept over his thigh: slow and cautious, but unmistakably a caress.
Now came the difficult part: to signal his own willingness to participate, while at the same time doing nothing that would later allow his conscience to accuse him of inveigling a subordinate, a youth hardly out of adolescence, into breaking the laws of God and man. He hadn't been in this situation for many years, and he'd never been in it with the additional complication of being captain. And he could never forgive himself if he misused his authority.
He wondered how Pellew had managed the moral quandary, though he supposed he himself had rather taken matters into his own hands, as it were, leaving the captain with only the necessity of making him stop or letting him continue.
Now he began to understand the smile that had appeared on his captain's face before he'd kissed it clumsily away.
He himself smiled without opening his eyes.
~~~
Fandom: Keeping Up Appearances
Title: Beneath the Wallpaper
Author: purplefluffycat
Link: Here
Rating: R
Status: Complete
Summary: Elizabeth acquires some new wallpaper; Richard is sent to investigate.
Why I fangirl this: This fic was written for meeeee, and I love it to bits -- it hits so many of my kinks, from the delightful humour to the spot-on characterisation to the way Richard finds sudden and unexpected happiness next door (thanks to Hyacinth's wild schemes, at that). purplefluffycat's stories are always a treat to read; I keep hoping for more KUA fic from her.
Excerpt:
The back door had barely closed behind Elizabeth's slightly-tea-spattered form before the tirade started. "I simply do not believe that's possible! How could she be going around buying Liberty wallpaper? The hand-printed, limited-edition sort, as well! There must be some mistake."
Richard looked up from his newspaper. He considered just trying to hide behind it, but some sort of response was clearly going to be necessary. "Perhaps she just liked it."
Hyacinth assumed her expression that informed him he had been irredeemably stupid. "Well of course, she liked it, Richard. What sort of right-thinking person wouldn't like it? No, the question is, how on earth could our neighbour - who is probably subsisting on some sort of spinster's allowance from her husband who's never there - possibly stretch to the very finest wallpaper this nation can produce?" An anxious glance about their own sitting room and a shake of the head. "We'll have to redecorate. Every room."
~~~
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Title: Lomendánar (Little Love for the Things of My Love)
Author: vulgarweed
Link: Here
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Summary: The Shepherds of the Trees have drawn a bitter lot, and no one knows this better than one who was different.
Why I fangirl this: It's rare to find a story from the perspective of an Ent. To find a beautifully-written, heart-rendering love story from the perspective of an Ent, however, is even rarer. This gorgeous, melancholy tale, written mostly as a monologue from Skinbark's POV, has the added advantage of making you see a certain canon character in a completely new light.
Excerpt:
Hear me, O Kementári, Yavanna. For who other has the length of years to hear my lament, and who other has the desire?
Will you send your sister, the grey-cloaked, the sorrowing, to walk among us, in our lomendánar, our gloaming?
Even the tears of the Valar are not our tears. Even your long years are not ours.
I will tell my tale in mine own tongue, for the Children of Ilúvatar who gave us their language come no more beneath our branches. The Firstborn are no longer in their power, and the Secondborn are no longer young, so I perceive our doom is near at hand.
Would only that we could only pass away with our charge fulfilled, and the trees we loved no longer endangered by careless axe and cruel design. Alas, I fear they shall suffer even more in the ages to come without us.
Let me tell you what I have known. I beg of you to listen to me, Lady, for I know you have more years to spare than even I.
~~~
Fandom: Mean Girls
Title: Sink
Author: salmon_pink
Link: Here
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete
Summary: The fighting doesn't really stop, it just takes a different tack.
Why I fangirl this: The summary says it all, really -- this is hot, vicious enemy!sex at its finest. Both Janis and Regina are extremely in-character, and even as they fling insults at each other, there's the shadow of their former friendship underneath it all, giving the story a melancholy tinge.
Excerpt:
“And why should I be careful?” Janis snapped back with as much sarcastic curiosity as she could muster. She knew she was walking into a trap, knew that she was only giving Regina the perfect opening for more acid insults, but she refused to leave the deliberate tease hanging. They did a pretty good job of avoiding each other around school, but there were some places that were common ground, such as Ms. Tindley’s Spanish class and the girl’s bathroom which they were currently squaring off in. And Janis wasn’t about to let this latest feud spill out into the corridors, preferred to keep it here, private, away from prying eyes and Regina’s pack of yipping sidekicks.
Regina tilted her head in that innocent, doe-like way she’d perfected before they even hit puberty, arms folding over her chest. “Because, silly, it’s a privilege for you to be able to use the girl’s bathroom as it is. You don’t want to be seen causing any kind of trouble in here, do you? It wouldn’t be that difficult for someone to start a petition insisting you only use the men’s…”
Oh, Janis was going to kill her.
~~~
Fandom: Moby-Dick
Title: Taniwha
Author: norah
Link: Here
Rating: R
Status: Complete
Summary [mine]: A retelling of the opening of Moby-Dick from Queequeg's point of view.
Why I fangirl this: Taniwha is a triumph. Not only is it a beautiful love story, it's also full of nuances and depth, exploring the story of a character who's constantly seen as 'the Other' in canon, and giving him a voice and a gaze of his own. It's everything I love about fanfic, and more.
Excerpt:
It was perhaps my fatigue that caused me to overlook the other body beneath the covers; fatigue, and the sheer surprise of it. The Spouter was cheap and mean, sure, but I had thought that my coin had ensured that my narrow bed at least was my own. In any case, I saw him not until I had put my things away, and sung my karakia to cleanse myself of the day’s tapu.
I brought out my little tiki carving, a crude likeness of the atua I’d found many voyages ago on a strange island, but which nonetheless reminded me of home. Out of whimsy, I had taken up the habit of offering it a bit of biscuit in the evenings, like the burnt offerings of the Roman Christians or the incense of the East. That done, I lit my pipe (a soothing indulgence I’d picked up from my fellow sailors) and climbed into my bed.
I noticed him then; how could I not? His yell was loud enough to raise the dead, and had I not had my pipe clamped firm between my teeth, I might have shouted as well. I attempted to restrain the intruder as he thrashed about in the blankets and shouted incoherently, and urged him to identify himself.
~~~
Fandom: Peter and Wendy
Title: A Hundred Years Ago
Author: trifles
Link: Here
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Summary [mine]: Wendy gets to know Peter's nightmares.
Why I fangirl this: This story leaves me breathless every time I read it. It's devastatingly painful, in the best of ways -- as beautiful and merciless as Peter Pan himself. When I first found it, my memories of the canon was somewhat murky and I therefore didn't see where the story was going at first, which made the ending even more shocking. But even upon rereading, I can't help being floored by how utterly brilliant and powerful this is, the apparent simplicity of style perfectly showcasing the underlying sadness of Neverland.
Excerpt:
She nearly missed the next dream down. It had slipped to one side and got caught in the lining. Wendy wondered what possible dream it could be. She pried it out gently, and tried to smooth it as best as possible. It was an odd picture she saw in there. She didn't quite know what to make of it.
A boy -- that tall one she'd seen twice before, with the blue eyes and pale skin -- and a very small mirror. He was staring at it, and seemed to be saying things very quietly. The angle from which she viewed him doing this was awkward, as if someone had happened upon something that they were not certain they should be witnessing. A moment later (for really, this is Peter, and he does not approve of such things as good manners, though he is perfectly capable of them if no one tells him so) the image rushed forward and pulled the startled pale boy away from his mirror, and the dream, as Wendy thought it was, ended there.
Wendy, for all that she is very good and motherly, was not terribly knowing about some things. If she were really clever, she would have known to ask me what it was the boy with the mirror had been saying.
But as I like Wendy, I showed her the way of charming the full story from these things: She turned the whole dream over and watched it from the other side.