I know my PM feature does not work. I don't know why, exactly, but it appears to hate me. So if I've PM'd you and you're trying to reply, post here and I will get back to you as soon as humanly possible.

Lately, I have noticed that a great many people do not have these round-up posts, and as I find it greatly annoying when I search for fic, I figure it would be rather hypocritical for me not to have one too. Even if I haven't actually written all that much, yet. (I kid not - it takes me about a month to write a thousand words, mostly because I have very specific moods I must be in, mostly because I'm so goddamn tired all the time. Anyway. Whine, whine, want some cheese & crackers with that?)

( ashen sky, lightning storms; deltas to desert plains, wartime on every border )

...Is the explosion of Mt. Saint Helens an okay reference to make, when writing Doctor Who fic, or is too American? I'm not assuming that people would know any details - because hell, that doesn't happen in America either - but if I walked up to someone in London and said, Mt. Saint Helens, would they get the essential gist of it, that I was talking about explosive destruction on a large scale? And if not, what would be the UK equivalent of a super-large, super-hot disaster be? Have there been any explosions / great fires recently?

I swear to God, this story kicked my ass, but hopefully I kicked it right back. It was a sort of personal challenge - I wanted to see if I could do a, the creepy, and b, a mostly-linear story that didn't involve my usual scene breaks. That part was very hard, I tell you. Anyways, housekeeping: Quite a bit borrowed from Celia Bell's "The Impossible Fate of William Minnafee", though I don't recommend the story. The Mary in question refers to Mary Mallon, otherwise known as "Typhoid Mary".

For the Imprisonment square on my cliche_fic bingo card.



MARY, MELUSINE, MARY, MEDEA
SGA; PG-13. McKay/Sheppard.

( Read more... )

To all you fanmixers out there:

BY THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY OR PROFANE STOP PUTTING SIA'S "BREATHE ME" IN YOUR MIXES. FOR SRS. IT IS THE MOST OVERUSED SONG THAT WASN'T RECORDED BY THREE DAYS GRACE. HALF THE TIME IT HAS ABSOLUTELY NO RELEVANCE TO YOUR MIX.

Also, what is with all the Twilight fanmixes? Really. I love fanmix, but this has grown from an irritation to an obsession. It is driving me crazy.

It is so much harder to remix a good author than a bad one. You know why? Because it seems that they've thought of everything already, whereas the bad ones leave plot holes the size of lower Manhattan! I suppose it's my fault, really; I have this insane devotion towards things having additional meaning. It can't just be pretty, oh no - it has to add some new dimension to the story.

I just don't get it. Why is this so hard?

...But I was wrong! Grievously so! To wit: this hilarious Ovid poem, as (rather liberally) translated by Peter Green.

The Amores: Book One, Poem Three

Fair's fair now, Venus. This girl's got me hooked. All I'm asking from her
Is love - or at least some future hope for my own
Eternal devotion. No, even that's too much - hell, just let me love her!
(Listen, Venus: I've asked you so often now.)
Say yes, pet. I'd be your slave for years, for a lifetime.
Say yes - unswerving fidelity's my strong suit.
I may not have top-drawer connections, I can't produce blue-blooded
Ancestors to impress you, my father's plain middle-class,
And there aren't any squads of ploughmen to deal with my broad acres -
My parents are both pretty thrifty, and need to be.
What have I got on my side, then? Poetic genius, sweetheart,
Divine inspiration. And love. I'm yours to command -
Unswerving faithfulness, morals above suspicion
Naked simplicity, a born-to-the-purple blush.
I don't chase thousands of girls, I'm no sexual circus-rider;
Honestly, all I want is to look after you
Till death do us part, have the two of us living together
All my time, and know you'll cry for me when I'm gone.
Besides, when you give me yourself, what you'll be providing
Is creative material. My art will rise to the theme
And immortalise you. Look, why do you think we remember
The swan-upping of Leda, or Io's life as a cow,
Or poor virgin Europa whisked off overseas, clutching
That so-called bull by the - horn? Through poems, of course.
So you and I, love, will enjoy that same world-wide publicity,
And our names will be linked, forever, with the gods.


While I understand that the more academic translation is perhaps not quite as ribald, I quite prefer this one. People don't seem to understand poems in a historical context - witness the Canterbury Tales. It's hard to remember that most of the Classical poems we read today were written in a different language and then translated, into a language that barely resembles what we speak today; that the formality we associate with epic poems and "thee" and "thou" wasn't, at the time, particularly formal at all. I suppose I like this version of the Ovid poem because, had I been around in 20 or so BCE, this is pretty much how I would have understood it to be: a funny, light-hearted, occasionally rude ode to love, certainly not worth the pompousness it's given today.

...That is, if I'm allowed to actually talk about this under the rules of remixredux09.

Any takers?

1. I got my cliche_bingo card today. It is very, very pretty, though I'm rather disappointed it didn't include age regression or genderswap, as I was looking forward to doing those. Maybe I'll do one of those for the big ol' center square. Oh, and in related news, I'm obviously insane and begging to be overworked. But still. Twenty-five opportunities to twist, pervert, reinterpret, and otherwise mangle cliches, in any fandom (though I have a feeling that "any fandom" is going to be "mostly Merlin and SGA but possibly another one or two in there"). I absolutely adore doing that! I'm already becoming slightly hypnotized by the possibilities. Aren't you?



2. So, Design for Living: finally got to go see it last night, with the typical Washington, DC theatre crowd - and there is a typical Washington, DC theatre crowd, no doubt about it. Middle-aged women out for a night on the town, old sophisticates of both sexes, men and their blonde trophy wives, gay couples in their late thirties, and the occasional professor, all of them clearly advertising that they are out for CULTURE and not to split their sides open laughing. The play was rather hilarious, though - the first act and the beginning of the second both dragged, but it was a necessary expositionary sort of dragging, and then Gilda left, and Leo and Otto got shitfaced drunk, and there was rolling around onstage, and throwing shoes, and kissing, and it was hilarious. The third act? A complete riot. The actors completely overacted it, but they were having fun and we were having fun and so nobody cared, and then there was more kissing, and Leo and Otto's matching penguin suits, which were similarly hilarious but also provided a very nice tableau with Gilda's green dress when she sat between them. All and all, it was a light, witty comedy with a cute, romantic menage à trois - not particularly thought-provoking or deep, but entertaining nonetheless, and a nice palate cleanser between the heavier Ion and King Lear.

3. I am so psyched about Merlin right now. I mean, what's there not to love? Magic and mysticism! Extended outside canon! A femmeslash pairing that is like the McKay/Sheppard of SGA, sort of the fandom all-weather tires: can be sweet or hot or fucked up or with hope or out of it, or any combination of the above, and more! Merlin and Arthur are cute and interesting, but it's Gwen/Morgana I find fascinating - both the characters and the pairing - and I really hope that in the second season, they allow both these women dignity as well as growth. I have no problem with Morgana eventually falling apart; I just hope it will happen slowly, so she isn't taken over by the gibbering crazy she was showing in the finale - so we can see this lovely, strong, proud, and intelligent woman for a little while yet.

Behold: my latest failure, aka the mcshep_match drabble that ate Tokyo. As you may have guessed from that introduction, it is, eh, slightly longer than allowed - about 500% bigger - and so cannot be posted on their very cool drabble tree, which is a shame, because I think it's a very cool and creepy follow-up to a previous drabble (in case you're interested, it's this PEACE one).

people don't win wars. wars win wars.

The light is cold here. On the outer edges, where undertide and current flow, the walls are being eaten by the ocean salt. They have, perhaps, a thousand years left; more, if the shields were expanded. They're at minimal levels for now, edges sacrificed to save the center, the critical areas only: gate-room, power-station, stasis room and the man it holds. Between life support, shields, and the AI, the ZPM has, perhaps, ten thousand years left. Less, if the shields are expanded. Something must - 0000011101. Something must go. It's Atlantis or her prodigal son; Isaac and Abraham, struggling to tie each other to the altar. Each vying for more time, more time. A year more of survival. Two. Trapping each other in mazes and looping codes, in echoes of echoes. One disintegrates while the other survives, and Rodney and his city battle it out in silence. He's winning, so far. And that's important, because every minute is a chance someone will rediscover the city, time for a cure to be found. Because the thing is - the thing is -

The thing is, he's pretty sure he existed, once. Pretty sure he loved, and occasionally hated, and was more than this eternal game of cat-and-mouse, this cruel either/or, architecture or anatomy. He's as much a machine as the city. He can feel what he's doing to her. She's been quiet for a while, though - hiding somewhere in the control room. The bulk of her processing is in essential sections, or he would have - 010. He would have cut her shields and left her to the sea. Should probably check server AR-940, just in case. Must remember that; very important thing. Because the thing is - one slip and he's - one slip and -

He does remember. Must remember; very important. A comfort he could still - 10110011110. Still give. "I remember," his subroutines would say. If he were anything more than a whisper of light and code, he would reach past the glass - mouth to mouth, breathing out, thumb sweeping over the angry lines of infection running under the skin. He gave up ascension for this: to protect the last known carrier of the Wraith's virus, their final revenge, their time bomb sunken under the sea.

It seemed a fair trade. Food and sleep and sex, to be able to remember - to remember John, when no one else would. To hold that knowledge, share it, read himself out like a book to whomever could help. He carries instructions for - 001011. For the stasis chamber, John's medical records, all the research they'd had on the Wraith virus, anything that could help, and underneath, in hidden files and encrypted video: more whispers, of video golf and rings. A moment of joy, high in the atmosphere. Strong hands. A machine's memory of hot sheets and skin on skin. (And the thing - the thing he has to remember is - )

He's the bible of John; genesis and revelations both.

Iran: *explodes*

I don't pretend to know anything but the bare bones about this whole affair, but reading this, it's... it's something. I don't know if I can properly articulate it, I don't know if I even have the right to - because in a tangental sense, James Ransome was right, I haven't held their babies - but I can say that it's sobering in the extreme. All this... humanness - the beatings and abductions and killings, and the courage of the people risking being beaten and abducted and killed, but still googling and Twittering and marching - is a wonder, and horror. Especially for me, I suppose, for Americans who just had the forty-fourth peaceful transition of power in the history of their country, and have never known any other way, but for the grace of God or Allah or George Washington or whomever-the-fuck. We made such a big deal of it. And it was a big deal - it was - but still. We didn't have blood running in the streets. This collective Twitter transcript, it's an education in revolutions themselves, because you have pages and pages of reported deaths and rumors and instructions, and then suddenly you have something like, "please RT urgent does anyone know whats happening near saiee park? my daughter is near" and you think,

oh fuck,

these are people we're talking about here.


IN COMPLETELY UNRELATED BUT INFURIATING NEWS: Thank you, assholes. I don't believe I've ever properly articulated how grateful I am for the right to exist. You know, like every other American. (Though for some reason they have the right to exist and the right to marry.) Just - ack. THE STUPID, IT BURNS.

...I would totally cut a John Sheppard vid to this song.

Been watching Inferno again, and my initial impressions have held up: John is an ass, but a lovable one; Rodney likes being ordered around, and looks stupid with really short hair; Elizabeth is incompetent; Chancellor Licus is an ass, and not a lovable one; Teyla and Ronon are both made of AWESOME; the writers have no imagination when it comes to alien sets - I think I saw an IKEA desk in there at one point - and the early-seasons civilian mission jackets are hideous. The only thing that's changed is my perception of Norina. The first time I saw the episode, I recall being very not impressed, to the tune of, "dear Lord, it's another dumb blonde". And I wished very, very hard that the writers would stop using that character. But rewatching it with intent to write, I actually saw that: hey! Norina's not so bad! For the first fifteen minutes or so, she's annoyingly subservient, but by the end of the episode, she's cracking snarky jokes, remaining cool and unruffled when everything around her is falling to pieces, and flirting with not just one, but two hotties, and seeing straight through both of them. Seriously. Just watch the last ten minutes or so, and you'll see what I'm talking about. Besides, first impressions in disaster situations? Not usually so flattering. I'd like to see how you behave when your Chancellor plops you into a roomful of advanced alien technology, tells you that the safety of your people depends on making it work, and then a group of people wearing weird clothes arrives and technobabbles, makes a bunch of references that you can't understand, and then tells you that your planet is going to EXPLODE.

( Life is a game of bavat, but that doesn't make it any less serious, or any less fun )

When I first heard "La Familia" off of trinityofone's Four Quartets playlist, I was not impressed. Being a rather good classical singer myself*, I tend to, eh, look down on those artists who have childish, or nasal, or talk-singing voices - one of the reasons that I still cannot get into the Mountain Goats, despite their obvious brilliance - and Mirah was like, okay, yet another girl-soft indie songwriter, move on. But I am so glad that I gave her another shot, because really, she's kind of brilliant. Gorgeous imagery, songs about sex & complicated relationships, and boom-boom bass lines? I'm listening to Advisory Committee and am completely hooked, with eleventy million fic ideas spiraling off each song. (Chief among them: a rather angry "Cold, Cold Water" McKay/Keller fic dealing with this.)

Also, the comments at SongMeanings are so cute.


*And yes, that was the sound of my horn tooting you heard.

Been catching up on personalheroes. It's so much fun to see people construct these characters out of barely nothing, and such an inspiration, because other people think of things you never would. Very useful for fic writers, too. Often, when I start out writing a character, I really don't have the faintest clue about their personality - construct them along the way, a sort of free association exercise - but that doesn't really work for Big Bang-length stories. Really, I need a SGA personalheroes. Does anyone know if there's anything like that floating around out there?

But anyways. Here's what I have so far, for Rodney (John, Norina, Teyla, and Ronon to come). Interestingly, I seem to have my Rodney-character fleshed out the most in my head. I don't think that's a result of favoritism - though I do rather love him - as much as that I have a very definite idea about him. In my head, there's much more freedom with the other characters' backgrounds: Teyla could have had a close relationship with her father or been raised mostly by Charin. Her role as leader could have been elected, fought for, or chosen because of her father. She could have been a mischievous child, or a more serious one. Ronon could have had a more Earth-style nuclear family, or been raised in a state-centered institution. He could have been an only child, or not. Melena could have been the only relationship in his life, or not. John could have known his mother, or not. Dave could be his half-brother, or his full one. Whereas I know, with absolute certainty, where Rodney came from, and what his family/childhood was like.

( It's not paranoia if everyone's out to get you )

From tju_tju_tju_tju, whom I haven't talked to in absolutely forever (sorry, tju_tju_tju_tju!):

YOU'RE ON MY FRIENDS LIST, I want to know 28 things about you. I don't care if we've never talked, never really clicked, or if we already know everything about each other. I really don't. You are obviously on my flist, so let me know with whom I'm friends!

1. Your Middle Name:
2. Age:
3. Single or Taken:
4. Favourite Film:
5. Favourite Song or Album:
6. Favourite Band/Artist:
7. Dirty or Clean:
8. Tattoos and/or Piercings:
9. Do we know each other outside of LJ?
10. What's your philosophy on life?
11. Is the bottle half-full or half-empty?
12. Would you keep a secret from me if you thought it was in my best interest?
13. What is your favourite memory of us?
14. What is your favourite guilty pleasure?
15. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you:
16. You can have three wishes (for yourself, so forget all the 'world peace etc' malarky) - what are they?
17. Can we get together and make a cake?
18. Which country is your spiritual home?
19. What is your big weakness?
20. Do you think I'm a good person?
21. What was your best/favourite subject at school?
22. Describe your accent:
23. If you could change anything about me, would you?
24. What do you wear to sleep?
25. Trousers or skirts?
26. Cigarettes or alcohol?
27. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together? (If you have no idea, just say something crazy, it'll entertain me!)
28. Will you repost this so I can fill it out for you?

Good news in, folks. Apparently, the lord of mercy and possibly incorrect test-checking has smiled down upon me, for I just found out that I passed my certification exam. Somehow. (Though I do not yet have the nifty little plastic card that says I did, so theoretically there's still enough time for the decision to be revoked.) I'm simultaneously terrified, disbelieving, and ecstatic, because there is a little voice in my head insisting that I am SUPER-EMT! Faster than a speeding ambulance, more crafty than your average passerby! Jumping around in cape and tights (but with my underwear underneath my clothes), waiting to save that woman about to be hit by a bus or that old man at the bus stop that will surely experience a myocardial infarction in three, two, one -

As E so kindly put it: God save the Virginians.


Also, I really need an AWESOME! icon. With that AWESOME! kinda feel. Does anyone have any suggestions?

1. I swear. I am so fucking pissed right now. I have a cough I can feel in my shoulders. And I was the twenty-sixth signup for mcshep_match. And, and I also took my certification exam and made one stupid mistake. I'll find out in two weeks, though, so in the event of failure, I have two things to say: one, always trust your first instinct, and two, fuck c-spine.

2. Upon the altar of the gods of fanfic I lay my offerings to multiverse5000, which are - of course - posted late because I'm generally an idiot.


THE WASTE LANDS
SGA & Doctor Who; River Song/the Doctor, PG-13.
Written for - duh - multiverse5000. Title from T.S. Eliot.

( Read more... )

...Does anyone know of any particular episode that features Sam and Vala walking next to each other somewhere - in the SGC, in a field, what have you - in mission gear? I'm trying to finish my assignment for the thelittlebang art, but my efforts to find good screencaps to start with are ineffectual, at best.

To be clear, I'm looking for a pose something like this (just better quality, and again with the mission gear):

Despite having a billion other things to do - my multiverse5000 fic, studying for my certification, Big Bang, sleeping, Big Bang - I trotted this weird little vaguely anthropological piece out at fuck o'clock in the morning. Why? I don't know. Probably just to be able to use this title. Though I did not love the novel, I have loved Kerouac's concept for a long time.

Coincidentally, I'm now a flaming redhead. Yowch. That "dark auburn" dye was a lot stronger than I thought.



THE SUBTERRANEANS
SGA; Gen, PG-13.
Written for the sga_flashfic A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words challenge.

( Read more... )