Too Sweet (Due South story)
| Fanfiction | |
|---|---|
| Title: | Too Sweet |
| Author(s): | Resonant |
| Date(s): | |
| Length: | |
| Genre(s): | slash |
| Fandom(s): | Due South |
| Relationship(s): | Fraser/Kowalski |
| External Links: | online here |
Click here for related articles on Fanlore. | |
Too Sweet is a Fraser/Kowalski story by Resonant.
Reactions and Reviews
Best FF That Proves That, Even Though Canadians Are Fine People in Many Respects, You Should Never Eat Anything They Invented.** Too Sweet, by Resonant, aka resonant8. Due South, Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski.
Did I...did I somehow not recommend this before? Because I don't have it marked in my database or in my set list, but...I feel like I've recommended it. And I definitely planned to recommend it. So today you get five stories, because if this one isn't a repeat, it should be. (Note: when I get done with all my tagging - on that distant and glorious day - we will never have this conversation again! Maybe! Although if the limit actually is 100 entries, we will, at least when it comes to due South!) I love this story. I love everything about it. Re-reading it today made me forget about both my orange and my troubles for a full half-hour, and, seriously, I can't imagine higher praise than that. If you've read this before, well, you'll be clicking on the link anyway, and if you haven't - read it. Or print it out and keep it by you against the time when you really, really need it, for that dark night full of coughing and unwelcome relatives and two inches of floodwater when only a solidly happy story can save you. Because there's Ray being absolutely Ray, right down to his reasons for marrying Stella, and Fraser baking, and horrible mutant Canadian not-cookies, and just...god, it's the perfect recipe. For...for happiness. No, really, I mean that. Hmmm. May have overdosed on decongestants, though. Better check that.
-Footnotes-
* This title is, yes, directed at a specific person. I'm assuming I don't need to name names. Remember, specific person: if your current mantra fails, switch to, "At least she's not Lionel Luthor. At least she's not Lionel Luthor." Again, it won't help, but at least you'll have an amusing Lionel MPreg mental image to help while away the hours.
** It is possible that Canadians in the reading audience may take offense at this or feel it is unjustified. I have one word for you people: poutine.***
*** But, seriously, I do love the more northerly residents of this fine continent. I do. I don't even hold the poutine thing against you, despite the scientifically-provable fact that my single experience with it (at the tender age of 11) was responsible for 30% of the therapy I needed in my teen years. Just...don't get creative in the kitchen, please. Stick to foods invented in Italy. I'm begging you.[1]
The story's title explains it all, really. This is a super-adorable domesticity fic that may cause cavities if not enjoyed properly--like followed immediately with a PWP, or a Hurt/No Comfort. It will also make your inner 13-year-old girl squee with joy, too. Just a warning.[2]
References
- ^ rec by thefourthvine at Slashy Nominations 122: Yummy Yummy Yummy I've Got Love in My Tummy, June 21, 2005
- ^ "October 20, 2009 Livejournal". Archived from the original on 2023-12-10.