After that bit of tut-tutting, I have a special present for you! In need of something to help you procrastinate? Here are three (3!) special fics for you to have and to hold from this day forward.
1. First, we have "Daughter of a Legend," a Hidalgo fic. Yes, fanfiction.net is full of surprises, and this AU about Frank's daughter is one of them. It's short and snappy, but what really makes the story is the narrator's attempted Southern accent.
Howdy, ya’ll, my name’s Cassie Hopkins. I grew up with my mom and daddy in the States, but mom’s from Arabia. She’s kind of a princess, actually. My daddy’s a cowboy from South Dakota. How’d they meet? Well, I think it’s kind of romantic (usually I hate that kind of stuff, bein’ a tomboy and all).
2. If you don't enjoy horses and painful dialect, try something ten times more excruciating -- "The many problems of the one they call Will Turner". In script form and twenty-one arduous chapters long, I have read only the first five lines of the story and intend to go no further.
Aragon:*babbles insults and rambles as he is dragged out the door and kicked down 43 flights of stairs by Security (aka Agent Smith and Elrond)
Me- ..Stupid Aragon...thinks he so great...well...we'll still see if he thinks he's still so great, by putting him the middle of a new Murder surrounded by rocs and Frodos. He fears Frodos..
Jack- interesting...*drinks more Rum*
An attempt at humorous crossovers gone horribly, horribly wrong.
3. Our final story is a Hornblower fic entitled "Dying Embers". It tries, o! it tries, and yet it flounders like a newborn babe thrown into a lake to learn to swim all alone. If that nauseating simile hasn't interested you, then just read it for the stilted speech. The best part is the ending, but I wouldn't want to give anything away, so here is the opening instead:
A tall, thin and dark-haired Englishman (Horatio Hornblower, if you haven't guessed), stood staring into the flames of a fire in a poky sitting room of a Kingston inn. The fire, of course, was not necessary for it was a hot Jamaican summer and the chattering of tropical birdsong could be heard through the bolted shutters. The day before Horatio's dearest friend had died.
It gets right to the point, and doesn't even stop along the way to make the assumption that the reader might have a brain! How darling.