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ds_recsredux2006-10-30 10:45 am
pearl-o.livejournal.com) wrote in ds_recsredux2006-10-30 10:45 am
What We Talk About When We Talk About Wolves, Heavy Bag, Leaving Normal
Title: What We Talk About When We Talk About Wolves
Author: Penelope Whistle
Pairing Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: PG
Length medium
Why I'm reccing this fic: This story isn't especially long, or plotty, or porny, and it's the only due South story by this author. All of that makes it easy to forget about it sometimes -- but that just means you get to find it and discover it over and over and over again and be filled with joy. The dialogue here makes me absolutely melty, it's so spot-on.
"I don't like to disillusion you, Ray, but Diefenbaker licks a lot of things. If licking means love, we might say that Dief loves Francesca or even fecal matter from--"
"That is disgusting. Dis. Gusting. Why can't you let me have this? Why can't you just agree that the wolf loves me? It's a small thing, but it would mean a lot to me. I'm not asking you to agree that Sharon Stone loves me or that Stella loves me or even any other human be--"
"If it makes you feel better, Ray, then I'm sure Diefenbaker is quite fond of you. He's told me so on many occasions."
"Fond. He's fond of me."
"Yes, the supporting evidence being the fact that he hasn't eaten you. Yet."
What We Talk About When We Talk About Wolves
Title: Heavy Bag
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katallison
Pairing Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17
Length medium
Why I'm reccing this fic: You know that feeling you get when you're reading a really good story, that heavy ache right in the middle of your chest? This story defines that for me. It's Ray, boxing, and it's Ray's head, in all it's fucked-up jumbled wishful glory.
If feelings were all it took, Ray would have shredded the bag himself, by now, but he keeps punching anyway, wilder and harder, panting, until all the pictures, the snapshots from last night that've been cycling through his head all day like some crazy slideshow, fade to black, until there's no more room in his head for words and no need for them.
He never knows the right words anyway, to frame up what he's feeling, the words that'll hold it all together and straighten it out and make it make sense. Like what he felt for Stella, from the first day he met her, that feeling inside him that was so huge, that big quivering mess of intensity that he could barely keep in his own skin, that kept wanting to break open and spill all over. He'd called it love 'cause he didn't know what else it could be, that was apparently how people felt when they fell in love, and so he kept calling it that, even when it turned different, angry and fearful and terribly needy, like a black hole trying to suck everything in. But she'd told him that wasn't love, that couldn't be love, and so he'd stopped trying to find a word for it and just lived with it instead, lived with the way it took over his body and cramped up his belly and burned in his legs, and he'd kept coming back to this gym. Not as often, and not to fight, but just because hitting something helped him keep it all together.
Heavy Bag
Title: Leaving Normal
Author:china_shop
Pairing Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: R
Length short
Why I'm reccing this fic: Pretty much all ofchina_shop's stuff is guaranteed to be well-written and satisfying, but this story is my very favorite of hers. The structure here is awesome on its own -- especially the way the reality and construction of it mirrors the progress of the story -- but really makes it special is the way it balances the two conflicting sides we get of Fraser. Is Fraser a superhero, perfect guy with a pure heart and the strength of ten men? Or is he a woobie, a lonely guy surrounded by death and loss and trying to find justice and do the right thing? How can he be both?
Ray drives until he runs out of gas. He walks three miles to a gas station and gets a lift back to his car. Then he goes home.
Ten minutes after he walks in the door, there’s a knock and Ray knows it’s Fraser. Ray’s gut twists, because he knows he’s fucked it up and, better than most, he knows there’s no easy way to make it right. He answers the door.
Fraser stands there, out of uniform again. He’s holding a video cassette. Fraser’s face tells a story, and the story is that Fraser’s been standing across the street—maybe for hours—waiting for Ray to get home. Ray understands this. He understands the ten minutes’ grace, too.
Leaving Normal
Author: Penelope Whistle
Pairing Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: PG
Length medium
Why I'm reccing this fic: This story isn't especially long, or plotty, or porny, and it's the only due South story by this author. All of that makes it easy to forget about it sometimes -- but that just means you get to find it and discover it over and over and over again and be filled with joy. The dialogue here makes me absolutely melty, it's so spot-on.
"I don't like to disillusion you, Ray, but Diefenbaker licks a lot of things. If licking means love, we might say that Dief loves Francesca or even fecal matter from--"
"That is disgusting. Dis. Gusting. Why can't you let me have this? Why can't you just agree that the wolf loves me? It's a small thing, but it would mean a lot to me. I'm not asking you to agree that Sharon Stone loves me or that Stella loves me or even any other human be--"
"If it makes you feel better, Ray, then I'm sure Diefenbaker is quite fond of you. He's told me so on many occasions."
"Fond. He's fond of me."
"Yes, the supporting evidence being the fact that he hasn't eaten you. Yet."
What We Talk About When We Talk About Wolves
Title: Heavy Bag
Author:
katallisonPairing Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: NC-17
Length medium
Why I'm reccing this fic: You know that feeling you get when you're reading a really good story, that heavy ache right in the middle of your chest? This story defines that for me. It's Ray, boxing, and it's Ray's head, in all it's fucked-up jumbled wishful glory.
If feelings were all it took, Ray would have shredded the bag himself, by now, but he keeps punching anyway, wilder and harder, panting, until all the pictures, the snapshots from last night that've been cycling through his head all day like some crazy slideshow, fade to black, until there's no more room in his head for words and no need for them.
He never knows the right words anyway, to frame up what he's feeling, the words that'll hold it all together and straighten it out and make it make sense. Like what he felt for Stella, from the first day he met her, that feeling inside him that was so huge, that big quivering mess of intensity that he could barely keep in his own skin, that kept wanting to break open and spill all over. He'd called it love 'cause he didn't know what else it could be, that was apparently how people felt when they fell in love, and so he kept calling it that, even when it turned different, angry and fearful and terribly needy, like a black hole trying to suck everything in. But she'd told him that wasn't love, that couldn't be love, and so he'd stopped trying to find a word for it and just lived with it instead, lived with the way it took over his body and cramped up his belly and burned in his legs, and he'd kept coming back to this gym. Not as often, and not to fight, but just because hitting something helped him keep it all together.
Heavy Bag
Title: Leaving Normal
Author:
china_shopPairing Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: R
Length short
Why I'm reccing this fic: Pretty much all of
china_shop's stuff is guaranteed to be well-written and satisfying, but this story is my very favorite of hers. The structure here is awesome on its own -- especially the way the reality and construction of it mirrors the progress of the story -- but really makes it special is the way it balances the two conflicting sides we get of Fraser. Is Fraser a superhero, perfect guy with a pure heart and the strength of ten men? Or is he a woobie, a lonely guy surrounded by death and loss and trying to find justice and do the right thing? How can he be both?Ray drives until he runs out of gas. He walks three miles to a gas station and gets a lift back to his car. Then he goes home.
Ten minutes after he walks in the door, there’s a knock and Ray knows it’s Fraser. Ray’s gut twists, because he knows he’s fucked it up and, better than most, he knows there’s no easy way to make it right. He answers the door.
Fraser stands there, out of uniform again. He’s holding a video cassette. Fraser’s face tells a story, and the story is that Fraser’s been standing across the street—maybe for hours—waiting for Ray to get home. Ray understands this. He understands the ten minutes’ grace, too.
Leaving Normal