#dorkorific

[betty-fran]

#my fanfiction recommendation column

a passage that sings by dorkorific

part 1 / part 2

"What do you want," Chris says with some irritation, "an affidavit, in triplicate? I like you, asshole. You've known that for years." "You like a lot of things. Twizzlers. Clogs. Crank, and also the sequel to Crank. Phil Collins. Your taste is questionable."

Okay, so I never actually read fanfics about real people (let alone write about them), that's my rule because, hey, these are real guys who have nothing to do with the characters they play, and they have a right to respect for their personal space. But there are three important reasons for this rare exception to the rule:

This is really well written. It's a bit of literary snobbery, a play on words, but also a bit of American dissidence, good literary taste, it reminds me of my summers on the beach with a Kerouac paperback, Vanity of Duluoz, his latest, where he switches from topic to topic in a completely nonsensical order, and do you think how much port he had to drink to do that? But I love it with all my heart. So damn, yeah, it's pretty well written.

Maybe it's a little bit of vindictive feelings towards Zachary Quinto's interview, where he bluntly states that there's something wrong with people who see K/S relationships as anything other than friendship, because “I think both Kirk and Spock, and definitely me and Chris, are only good friends. Any suggestion otherwise has more to say about the person making that suggestion than it does about the character's lives.” And I’m like, damn, how can you be so homophobic? Like, no shit man, we love the things we love, just because it's what resonates with us, helps us feel whole, because it makes us happy, but as long as it's not ruining someone's life, why is it a problem? No one criticizes you for choosing a book to read before bed or a partner to greet the morning with. So yes, I can read a fanfic once that violates my ideas about a real person's personal space, just as his words violated my ideas about a fan's personal space, so it's fair. Besides, it was still a typical K/S.

I just wanted to use this young Chris Pine's photo somewhere. He's such a nerd here. It's so cute and reminds me of my primary school. My best friend had the same glasses, I had the same cap, and we would hide from the teachers in the closet, arguing about who was cooler, Magneto or Professor Xavier.

[wolfstarshipping]

The Shoebox Project by dorkorific & ladyjaida in Audio and Video by greeniron

@hprecfest day 3 prompt: a podfic

Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter

Summary:

The Shoebox Project is a multimedia story of Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Lily Evans in their last years at Hogwarts and first year after school. This is an audiobook and video compilation (and completion) of the collective attempts to podfic the SPB between 2004 and 2014.

Comment:

I've already posted a fic rec for the shoebox project years ago and have raved about this fic on many occasions over the years, but in my eyes this fic absolutely deserves its fandom classic status. And if you've ever wanted to read it but didn't want to download all the pdf files, I highly recommend checking out the podfic version! It's so lovely and it also includes all the art in the videos. I will try to find the tumblr post because I think I remember reading a meta post talking more in depth about the different recordings, but a little bit of that history is mentioned on ao3 as well, and I think the fact that the podfic consists of so many different recordings, done by different groups of fans over the years who were then collected and completed, speaks for the impact this fic has had on the fandom and the love it has deservedly received over the years.

[wellconstructedsentences]

'I like to remember everything,' Remus says, very quietly, so as not to wake him. 'As it was.Because moments by themselves aren't enough; they're just—they're like photographs. They move a little, they wave, but they aren't everything. You can look back on a moment and say, "In that moment I was happy," or, more often than not, "In that moment I was sad," or "In that moment we were all berks," but you can look back on everything and think, "That was good." Because when all the moments come together, when all the songs meet up with one another, you get something whole and complete and wonderful, people you loved and people you hated and a fondness for them you may not be able to recapture but everything you remember about them being somehow more than they really were, because that's what remembering everything does. When I'm old, I think, I'll look back on this and I won't remember, "That time Sirius thought, if he lit a fart on fire, he could make a star come out of his arse," but I'll probably remember the stars themselves. I won't think, "He nearly choked me when he grabbed onto my tie," but I will think about the stupid doggy noises you're making even right now, even while you're sleeping. It probably means remembering everything and not jumping from moment to moment like life is a game of leapfrog and should be taken experience to experience like lily pads is foolish, because I won't remember you're often a berk and James is often a berk and Peter can be impressively inane and I am such a wet blanket with such a large nose it's a miracle you don't hate me. I'll just remember that I talked for five minutes to a friend who was already sleeping and I was happy anyway.' Remus pauses, sighs, and thumbs the side of Sirius' jaw, not noticing the path of his fingers. 'You're not going to remember any of this. Which is probably good, since this, my friend, is definitely babble. I hate Gillyweed. It makes you think everything is profound when, in reality, you're talking to yourself and no one else can translate the language that is You.'

The Shoebox Project by Jaida Jones and Dorkorific

[quietflorilegium]

"Basically this: I wish you were around so I could throw quiche on you."

Remus Lupin, ladyjaida and dorkorific, The Shoebox Project

[fuckyeahawesomeficquotes]

Remus has read plenty of novels in his lifetime. Big, fat ones, Muggle and magic alike, and all of them full of love and death and noble sacrifice, some of them quiet, some of them thunderous and agonizing. He’s read about lovers crippled by death, sobbing for weeks on the floor; and about men who dwindle, go dark behind the eyes, who stop feeling altogether. But none of them, he realizes now, ever really got round to explaining the everyday weirdness of loss: the way things get quiet, and bright, and far away, and how everything is slightly out of focus, mis-timed--except when they aren't, sometimes, some things that make no sense. The enormity of his hands, up close, and the sharp lines on his fingers; and the sense, not that time is moving slower, but that he is somehow more strangely, distantly aware of every second that goes by. Every movement in his chest and stomach exhaling, inhaling. The soft muscles on his eyelids contracting. The shallow, rucked pattern on the sofa, tiny blue cross-stitch hairs rough against his cheek and huge close to the eye.

that the science of cartography is limited, a Harry Potter fic by dorkorific

[fuckyeahawesomeficquotes]

He likes—in theory—the smell of butter frying, and the hiss and pop of sausages, and in practice he likes the way the pilot light flickers like wings crossing. What he cannot afford he imagines, because this is the way Remus Lupin lives his life, because he cannot really afford very much.

that the science of cartography is limited., a marauder's era Harry Potter fic by dorkorific

[murderfeathers]

'If I didn't take hopeless cases, Prongs, I'd've locked you out the second you got here, and I'd've kept all the tea for myself.' He's had to train himself to wickedness, as well, a mischievousness that isn't quite his own. It's a refined job at patching James' and Sirius' habits together and adopting them, a third nature grafted over his second nature, which stands tall ever, cement and concrete and marble and so much stone, over the first. Those are instincts he wasn't born with, but they're entirely his own. He positions himself resolutely against them. It's a constant struggle that can't afford Sirius shaking water over him, touching him with wet fingers along marred skin, remnants of past moonlight.

Shoebox Project, Part Two

[murderfeathers]

Sirius watches the dark door where Remus has gone, absently shrugging off his jacket. He is not a particularly deep thinker when it comes to other people -- their tics, their surprises, their strange animal needs, all seem to him something of a waste of time and much better communicated by straight talk or at least straightforward deceit -- and so it unsettles him that he is so much aware of every part of Remus's existence. There are times when Remus's presence in a room makes him feel like the sun, and then there are times like this, when Remus makes him feel large and clumsy as a blind elephant. Sirius, who has been trained to move elegantly since he could barely move at all, cannot decide if this off-footedness that Remus inspires in him is horrible or fascinating.

Shoebox Project, Part Two