akamine_chan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
akamine_chan) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2008-05-17 11:21 pm
akamine_chan) wrote in crack_van2008-05-17 11:21 pm
About A Girl by simplystars(G)
Fandom: DUE SOUTH
Pairing: Margaret Thactcher
Length: 2,900 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
simplystarts
Author Website:stars_fic
Why this must be read: Because Meg Thatcher was a shamefully wasted character and sometimes during the series you'd catch a glimpse of what she could have been, given half a chance to develop fully.
simplystars is a extremely talented writer, clear and concise, understated and elegant. But like a river, there's swirls of emotion under the seemingly formal words, fast running currents of anger and despair, of life and of love.
In About A Girl,simplystars shows us a what-might-have-been about Meg Thatcher, growing up a lonely, intelligent girl, taking advantage of her talents, moving up in the world. And she does it in such a way that by the end of the story, you are absolutely sure this is cannon. It's that real, and that true to what should have been Meg's character.
Her father still loved her. She still curled up in his lap at the end of the day, hiding her face against his chest and breathing in the scents of tobacco and leather and wool as they sat together in the wing-backed chair in his study. But because he was so quiet, because his arms tightened around her as if he was lost and powerless to do otherwise, she assured him that school was fine. That she had friends, that she was happy. She distracted him with perfect report cards and so he did not question the bruises on her shins. She changed from her school clothes as soon as she got home, hiding the smudges of ground-in dirt and frustrated tears at the bottom of the laundry basket.
One Saturday afternoon they took a walk together, meandering through the wood to the pond. Her father stood silently, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets, as Meg picked up rock after smooth rock and side-armed them across the glassy surface of green water. The rocks tumbled one after another, skittering and skipping wildly, while the tightness she had carried in her chest for the past year loosened just a bit.
Her father did not ask, and Meg did not tell, that her skill had been refined by months of pelting sticks and stones in self-defense; because names did hurt, and bullies didn't hesitate to mock a motherless classmate – but they'd learned, eventually, a healthy respect for her aim and range.
About A Girl
Pairing: Margaret Thactcher
Length: 2,900 words
Author on LJ:
simplystartsAuthor Website:
stars_ficWhy this must be read: Because Meg Thatcher was a shamefully wasted character and sometimes during the series you'd catch a glimpse of what she could have been, given half a chance to develop fully.
simplystars is a extremely talented writer, clear and concise, understated and elegant. But like a river, there's swirls of emotion under the seemingly formal words, fast running currents of anger and despair, of life and of love.In About A Girl,
simplystars shows us a what-might-have-been about Meg Thatcher, growing up a lonely, intelligent girl, taking advantage of her talents, moving up in the world. And she does it in such a way that by the end of the story, you are absolutely sure this is cannon. It's that real, and that true to what should have been Meg's character.Her father still loved her. She still curled up in his lap at the end of the day, hiding her face against his chest and breathing in the scents of tobacco and leather and wool as they sat together in the wing-backed chair in his study. But because he was so quiet, because his arms tightened around her as if he was lost and powerless to do otherwise, she assured him that school was fine. That she had friends, that she was happy. She distracted him with perfect report cards and so he did not question the bruises on her shins. She changed from her school clothes as soon as she got home, hiding the smudges of ground-in dirt and frustrated tears at the bottom of the laundry basket.
One Saturday afternoon they took a walk together, meandering through the wood to the pond. Her father stood silently, hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets, as Meg picked up rock after smooth rock and side-armed them across the glassy surface of green water. The rocks tumbled one after another, skittering and skipping wildly, while the tightness she had carried in her chest for the past year loosened just a bit.
Her father did not ask, and Meg did not tell, that her skill had been refined by months of pelting sticks and stones in self-defense; because names did hurt, and bullies didn't hesitate to mock a motherless classmate – but they'd learned, eventually, a healthy respect for her aim and range.
About A Girl