Post Every Day Fanfic Meme - Day 01

Gakked from china_shop

So I see that I haven't posted since MARCH! and that's just insane, because I've been writing posts in my head for months! I also have a few partially written posts that never seem to get finished. But, This weekend is vacation time for me, and china_shop  just started this 30 day meme, and I thought - I can do that! (Maybe. If I get a bunch of posts ready and then just put them up every day).  I do have to warn you though, my list is going to be overly filled with Cesperanza, Resonant, and Astolat, with high percentages of Due South, Stargate Atlantis, and American Idol (I know!). So here is my 1st post of hopefully 30 in a row:

Day 01. A fic with a great opening
cesperanza's Juggling Act

I. The Parrot.
So this whole mess begins with Frannie and her goddamned masturbating parrot.

BEST OPENING LINE IN ALL OF FANDOM. The rest story is just an amazing, crack-filled romp surrounding an angsty chewy center. You spend most of the story laughing your ass off, while simultaneously shaking your head mournfully and thinking, "Oh Ray. Just pull your head out."

But really, The Bodyguard has the most classic RayK opening ever:

I. CHICAGO
This was not hockey. Ray put his elbows on the bar, shoved his hands into his hair, and stared dolefully up at the screen. This was not hockey. Hockey was this game you played with sticks and a puck. You skated around and tried to whack the puck toward the net, maybe even into the net—which was good, getting it into the net, they gave you points for that. Then the big sign with the score on it would change, and that would be pretty good, too. It might say something like

Oilers 4, Blackhawks 1

or

Oilers 4, Blackhawks 2

instead of:

Oilers 4, Blackhawks 0

which was what it had said for a really goddamned long time now.

The bartender drifted his way and swiped his empty beer glass off the bar. Ray glanced at him and pointed to the tap, signaling for another.

Four-zip would probably be the final score, he should probably face that now. At this point, it would take a miracle to turn it around—-like maybe somebody could drop a piano on Bariev, who didn't seem to be capable of missing a shot, even if he were blindfolded, spun around three times, and in a different stadium entirely.

< snip> and then the intro of the real story:

He heard Fraser take a deep breath. "I'm at a pay phone at the Civic Opera House. Olga Kassilov is a famous Russian ballerina who defected to Canada in 1983. She's currently a guest at the Consulate, and she's requested that I be her bodyguard and escort her to a number of local cultural events—"

Ray frowned and stole a glance up at the television set. 4-1, thank you, God. "So what, the opera's bad or something?"

"The opera's fine, Ray," Fraser said tightly. "The problem is Ms. Kassilov. Her interest in me appears to transcend even the broadest notion of 'security'. Or perhaps we're simply not defining 'bodyguard' in the same way. There may, I suppose, have been a translation error—"

Translation error? It took him a second and then he got it. "Fraser—are you saying she's hitting on you?"

"Hitting on me?" Fraser sounded desperate now. "Ray, she's beating me to death."

And you're off and running, again with the classic Speranza 1-2 punch of angst overlain with zany humor.  Because this story has layers, and will make your heart clench up, and just as you think you can't stand it any longer, here comes Olga, and the fireworks start flying again.

( The Complete List )