itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
My Yuletide story:

Sightlines and Hemlines (2037 words) by Thassalia
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Amelia Peabody - Elizabeth Peters
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Amelia Peabody Emerson/Radcliffe Emerson, Ramses Emerson/Nefret Forth Emerson
Characters: Nefret Forth Emerson, Ramses Emerson, Amelia Peabody Emerson

Holidays have come to mean an adjustment in perspective.


I've had a tough time focusing on anything, and while I love these books, it was a struggle to find a story in them that needed telling. But I got possibly the most extensive, thoughtful feedback ever from the recipient so I dearly hope that it did, in fact, make her happy!

I received this lovely story for Holly Black's The Coldest Girl in Cold Town, which is one of the few vampire stories that I really dig, with a really great protaganist and a genuinely sexy love interest.

On the Road to Love (1667 words) by Taste_of_Suburbia
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Coldest Girl in Coldtown - Holly Black
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aidan/Tana Bach/Gavriel (Coldtown)
Characters: Tana Bach, Aidan (Coldest), Gavriel (Coldest)
Additional Tags: Romance, Angst, Fluff, Threesome - F/M/M, Pre-Book(s), Post-Book(s), Set during book, Family, Friendship, Families of Choice, Human/Vampire Relationship, Character Study, Pre-Slash, Yuletide, Misses Clause Challenge

“There’s a party I snagged next Friday.”

One thing Tana’s learned: there’s always a party.

itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
Mostly, I feel like I HAVE to post here when I post fic. Like, post here or it didn't happen. Maybe I just like the nostalgic comfort of the platform and the lovely people I met here.  Basically, because [ profile] rubberneck did all the heavy lifting for Frog in a Blender, I wanted to write her a present to say thank you. And it got away from me.

There's a Dearth of Poetry About Spies (17786 words) by Thassalia
Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Rating: Explicit
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Clint Barton
Characters: Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Tony Stark
Additional Tags: Post-Iron Man 3, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Spies, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Supposed to be a sex romp through Europe but it got away from me, Sex is totally a plot
Summary: "It’s truly a fantasy, and one she could spin, for him, but spies don’t work like that -- in breathless, charged teams. They need steady hands, even heart rates. And if she were somewhere she thought she’d get caught she’d just leave, or lie. Eliminate the threat one way or another."

Spies, and control, and figuring out how to see each other clearly. Bruce and Natasha fail at the sex romp through Europe. Well, they fail at the romping. Starts mid-IM3, continues until AoU but isn't particularly compliant.

itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
So a few months ago, I emailed the Hussies, a little desperate.  "I don't know what to do...I'm having all these FEELINGS after Age of Ultron.  How is that NOW I'm having Marvel/Avengers feelings, fannish, obsessive feelings...and about a pairing that fandom seems to hate?"

And then I gushingly broke down the deep, obsessive need to find and read ALL or ANY thing that was Natasha Romanoff/Bruce Banner because kick-ass, super smart, super competent, super controlled female character and brilliant, slightly unstable scientist who could destroy everything around him with his own control issues? It did, in retrospect, really seem like my thing... And it turned out that it was also [ profile] rubberneck's thing, even though we both kind of looked at how it played on in AoU, shaking our head's and thought, "We can do better."

So we slung it back and forth across time-zones for six dizzy, frantic weeks until we finished a draft and had a timeout and inquired about how one did fandom in this speedy social media age.  Six weeks. 70,000 words, and I won't lie, Feldman is as always the brains of the operation, and the competencies, and the effortlessness and the sheer, solid work. If there's a phrase that catches the eye and ear, odds are she wrote it. If there's plot that makes sense, she drove it.

But this story has ended up being one of the things I'm most proud of being a part of, because it was unexpected, and kind of needed at a tough time in my life, and because writing with [ profile] rubberneck is truly one of great joys of my life.

Frog in a Blender (70287 words) by Thassalia, feldman
Chapters: 15/15
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov
Characters: Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Thor (Marvel), Maria Hill, Nick Fury
Additional Tags: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Red Room, Team Dynamics, Super Soldier Serum, Identity Issues

When she notices Banner's attention she doesn’t discourage it, because he lives a similar lie. Pretend this is safe, pretend he’s containable, pretend that unchecked aggression doesn’t tend toward slaughter. She can give him that much, as easily as letting him turn her foot over gently in his warm hands and build a hypothesis that she’d rather he left alone.

itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
I've finally decided to set up a fannish Tumblr since I couldn't help myself any more:

If you're over there, let me know!
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
So as [ profile] feldman and I continue to bask in our mutual adoration, and write this thing that I think is really fucking good (and may have a very limited audience, but fuck it, we're delighted), I've started thinking about archiving my Farscape stuff, and the sundries, up on AO3. Which is intimidating, not only because of the need to find it on here, on Leviathan, on wherever, format it, post it, proof it, etc. But also because, despite a vast amount of NOT WRITING that I've been doing, I'm a better writer now, or probably, I've got more confidence in my ability to write about something other than physical and emotional boning, and I'm a little...embarrassed, I guess, about the indulgences I allowed myself in a lot of those pieces.

So, the questions, for those of you who have undertaken the archiving process:
a) Worth it?
b) How hard is it - formatting-wise?
c) Did you do another editing pass? Did you retool the stories, or just archive them as is?

All thoughts are appreciated!
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
So we went to see Age of Ultron, and after countless movies, I finally caught the fannish bug again, and I tried to dive into AO3, and (briefly, terrifyingly) tried to understand how fandom worked on Tumblr (and got immediately turned off by how fucking easy it is to be loathsome as well as joyous, which I don't remember being as prevalent on LJ, but YMMV, and a small fandom, and maybe we just gossiped and trashed-talked the civilized way - to each other, and via IM.) But I proposed my unpopular fannish opinion to the Hussies, and sometimes, the universe knows when you need a win, and needless to say "BAM, new fandom" and swoony sigh, writing with one of my all-time favorite writers and humans [ profile] rubberneck,'s such an incredible rush, such a high to have both that obsessive love, but more, a place to put it and a story that has far surpassed the obsession itself in terms of what I want from the fannishness.

I want THIS story, I want to keep writing it, and I keep thinking about it, anticipating what will come next with this giddiness and inspiration that I had forgotten was possible. And at the point when I was just kind of bursting with this joy, when I had to post SOMETHING about it, I checked into LJ to find that my partner in crime had hit a similar point: I had thinky thoughts about Age of Ultron...

Fandom, I can't even. You've given me some of the best things in my life.

But I'm staying off of Tumblr! (Except for the GIFs. I can live with the GIFs).
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
My dad had a massive stroke about 12 years ago which he survived. Various ailments have had him in and out of the hospital periodically since then, but nothing life-threatening. The Saturday before the Super Bowl, my stepmother called and said he'd had a bad nosebleed and had been admitted. Since then, he's suffered incidents of low blood pressure which has lead to further stroke activity, and ultimately we've made the agonizing decision to transfer him to in-patient hospice where he will either pass away or recover enough to be sent to a full-time nursing or care facility. Either is a miserable end to a largely full and complicated life. But he's pretty mellow right now. He sleeps a lot, eats very little, and recognizes about half of his visitors. He can have his dog when he wants, chocolate for every meal, and the undivided attention of those who love him because he's only "present" for about 20 minutes at a time.

My grief is something thick, and heavy, and awful. I can put this whole feeling behind me for hours, sometimes days at a time until it slams back into me that the father I knew, even the one I'd come to know again post stroke - the difficult, selfish, needy, desperate man who still had a sense of humor, who sometimes valued cool over kind, but also loved with a big, messy effort - is not coming back. That I may lose him completely very soon. That the loss is more likely than not. It's awful. It's life. It's terribly unfair.

And I want to write, but I don't want to write about this. However, the grief is providing this grey, odorous blanket over my ability to even come up with ideas, topics, anything.

So I reach out to this community with a request - the same one I always seem to come to everyone with: Give me a prompt, a topic, a sentence, a meme, a character or an idea. Point me in a direction, even if it's the wrong direction. I'll write about fandom, about fans, about characters, about myself. I'll write fic, I'll write fiction, but I need direction.

We've been watching Agent Carter with glee, The Blacklist with embarrassed pleasure (yes, it's sort of terrible, but it's so...watchable). I'm a season and a half into The Good Wife. I've been reading tons of fluffy romance, very little of substance, but I'd attempt book fandom if I know it. We're caught up on Doctor Who, and yes, I've seen Jupiter Ascending. I didn't make it in time to sign up for Yuletide this year, so I'm also happy to look at small fandoms or fill in wishes from wishlists.
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
I have finally been at home for more than five days, a rarity in the past three months, and am itching to do some writing. However, my past promises to write keep getting broken, so I offer a meme stolen from everyone:

Give me a character and I will tell you...

* How I feel about this character
* All the people I ship romantically with this character
* My non-romantic OTP for this character
* My unpopular opinion about this character
* One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.
* Something about them I consider true, even though it's only my head canon/fanon

I am woefully out of touch with most of fandom, but odds are I still have opinions on characters I only know peripherally:)

Saturday and Sunday was the LA Times Festival of Books, and while mostly we ambled around not stopping much of anywhere due to a friend's new dog who is learning all about WALKING WHERE THE PEOPLES ARE OMG! I was able to get a ticket to Rainbow Rowell's signing, where I spent $40 on two hardbacks I owned digitally (which were totally worth it - somehow, reading Fangirl in hardback made me love it even more) and got to, however briefly, interact with the completely delightful Ms. Rowell. The booth hosting the signing had printed on the tickets that there would be NO POSED PICTURES, something that was immediately thrown to the winds when RR declared that she'd love to take photos with her fans.

I may have cried when she signed "Eleanor and Park", I won't lie. There was something so delightful about seeing all of these fangirls of all ages (mostly teens and early 20s, but not exclusively) with their shirts and their enthusiasm, and just their general...taking up presence in the worldness that made me nearly as weepy.

I also saw a stunningly beautiful young Muslim woman wearing jeans, a TARDIS t-shirt, boots, and a hijab carrying a copy of "Fangirl". Only the very basics of good manners kept me from asking if I could take her photos.
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
I...there aren't really adequate words for me to express how I feel about this movie even being a movie, let alone this sort of lush romanticism that's getting sprinkled around it like it's this sappy, genial period piece of a thing. And maybe the movie will be, but... I LOVE this book. I love it's excesses and time travel and over-writing and philosophizing and WINTER. I love all of it's wonderful, bruising absurdity, and love, and epicness and I cannot on any level imagine what persuaded them to try and film it when the wonder of it is getting lost in the chill, snowy paradise of fin-de-siecle New York and a new age that doesn't exist.

So, I will undoubtedly force M. to go see it with me because I lack all willpower and because while he is fair too tall, there's something insane enough in Russell Crowe's face that he will make a fine Pearly Soames.

So, thoughts? Other fans of this book? Are you going to go see it? Are you dreading it? Excited? Both?
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
Okay, [ profile] haphazardmethod wanted the best cat story. I don't even know which cat to start with.

My sweet Georgie was full of mischief, which included being lost for several days when he wandered out of our non-functioning screen door and was locked out by my roommate. Several days of teary searching and heartbreak, and I'd given him up as coyote snacks when my neighbor called me from the complex next door. She'd found Georgie in their laundry room (which was outside). She took him home and I went to fetch him from her apartment where I found him underneath her end table. I knelt down and he immediately crawled out, onto my half-crouch of a lap, as if to say, "So about that outside thing..."

This was far more traumatic than his other escape attempts which usually involved him going directly under the house where he had to be fished out by my roommate who was able to wriggle through the grate and grab the cat and haul him back out.

Marlowe - who is just as co-dependent but way more high strung, on the other hand, crafted his great escape attempt when he was a little less than a year. He'd been slowly but steadily growing a tiny hole in my bedroom window screen into a larger hole, and one night before we went to bed, I noticed that the whole looked big enough to put a small cat head through. I commented on it, and M. replied that a whole cat couldn't fit through that hole. Just to be safe, I duct-taped it up and we went to bed.

I woke up early, about 6 a.m. and realized that Marlowe (usually crashed on top of me one he fell asleep at about 5:30) was nowhere to be seen. I looked over, and realized that the duct tape was gone and that the cat head shaped hole was not an entire cat shape rip. I started to shriek and ran through the apartment, throwing open the front door just in time to see a black streak go past, round the corner over the 5 foot high chain link fence, and up the second part of the fence.

Apparently, the big bad world had been a little to much for tiny Mo who was trying to get back in after his great big escape. I grabbed him, hauled him back inside, and then went back to investigate the damage. He'd clearly gotten out, and then couldn't get back in because the differential in height from outside was so much greater. He could jump up to the level of his exit hole but he lacked the trajectory to go through the hole. Plus, the screen was nailed in so he couldn't push it out. He had, however, pulled the opposite window screen off (that window was closed and locked) with such verocity that it was bent in half from his efforts.

He repeated this trick a few months ago in the new apartment when he sliced a hole in the screen door in the living room, and we awoke to find him sitting outside our bedroom door, like "Hi guys. I get that you don't want me coming through the apartment. I made a new route."

Most Mo stories involve the things he eats (cat litter, pennies, bok choy, popcorn, french fries, kale), or climbs (everything), or rolls off of (everything else. He's like living with all of the three stooges at once). He is a font of entertainment.

Oh cats.

The little cat, Brand X, is a font of entertainment in a different way. Like when she tore a big fancy box from Anthropologie to tiny bits over the course of a night's sleep (although to be fair, there wasn't much sleeping) and then when she'd reduced the box's size by half, dragged it over to her waterdish, where she drowns all of her favorite things - the stuffed mice, the stuffed fishes, my hair ties, my bras and socks, the curtains...

She also got on the counter last night (a no-no) and when I saw her up there, rolling on it with the most dazzling of nipped out intention, she grabbed the edge of the holiday ribbon that was up there, and zipped down off the counter, through the dining room and to the bedroom. However, the ball of ribbon stayed on the counter, and just unspooled so it was like Theseus and the freaking minotaur through our house.

Cats. cats cats cats.

Also, they both tried to eat the Christmas tree, and Mo ate several ornaments, including an angel my great grandmother had made. We found the crocheted body, and the halo, and her hair in another room, but still haven't found the cloth head.

One final cat anecdote - since they don't live in the same room, we often put Mo in the office so the little cat can romp with the peoples. When this happens, she selects whichever toy he's most fond of out of his toy bed (she has an unerring instinct for this) and carts it off to the bedroom like a great big "fuck you monster." This was never funnier than when she stole a giant birdy on a stick that was four times her size, but she is merciless about her choices.
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
My Year in Review 2013

Read More )
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
[ profile] boofadil asked for my best convention story.

I have two, I think.

The first is not really a convention story, per se. When M. and I had first fallen in love (in that deep, knowing you're committed to each other, can't be without each other way, had just realized we were spending the rest of our lives together way and were mostly revolting everyone around us) he had to go down to Comic-Con for work. We'd been planning for me to go down on Saturday anyway because I'd never been, and this way I'd have him to show me around and keep me from freaking out about the crowds. Part of the surprise he had waiting for me were press passes to the Doctor Who panel (this was post "A Good Man Goes to War" but before the show had come back for the fall). He had finagled them from some BBC-A folks and was super excited to surprise me. He had watched about half of the beginning of that season and various episodes I'd shown him, but was mostly just trying to woo me, and his enthusiasm at the time had a lot to do with my enthusiasm. Since we actually had press passes, which meant we didn't have to wait in line, we dawdled, and then decided to head over to the room about 15 minutes before the panel started. I kept tell him that we needed to hurry, that it would be full, but he didn't really understand the scope of New Who love, and so we got to the room that he thought it was in and...empty. He checked, and realized it had been moved to Hall H on the other side of the universe from where we were. We then had to dash across Comic-Con (a difficult feat at the best of times) and arrived BARELY on time, to slide into the last available press seats. 30 seconds later and we'd have been shut out!

I was delighted and the panel was wonderful, and M was desperately spoiled for the big reveal (even though I told him to close his eyes). But that present was such a sweet gift, and the panel itself turned him into a huge fan, to the point where we had wonderful Dalek cake toppers (knit by the marvelous[ profile] rubberneck) on our wedding cake. Even if our love for the show flags, we'll always feel fond and nostalgic, and he still gives me little Doctor Who gifts on the holidays (this year was a Fez and Bowtie necklace, and tiny sonic screwdriver earrings made out of beads).

The second--oh it's so hard to come up with a single second. Possibly [ profile] cretkid,[ profile] crankygrrl,& [ profile] rubberneck and I slugging bourbon out of a flask hidden in the trunk of my car at 9:30 in the morning to steal our nerve up to go get a photo taken with Ben Browder and Claudia Black for [ profile] fbf. None of us are autograph or photo with or breaking that fourth wall between character and actor folks, but we'd decided to do it, and we had to steal our nerves, and we had our Hussy shirts on, and we could not have been more sweaty or nervous or unsettled, and yet we trooped on in, and got our photo, and swooned a little (both by just how good BB smelled) and this declaration of us as "a fine group of hussies."

I think my other favorite memory, though, is more complicated. The first Farscape convention I attended was a wonderful, and terrifying experience. Wonderful because I met so many online friends, and terrible because I was riddled with nerves over being fannish in public, and because of the crowds, and so many small things that truthfully attending the cons helped me over come (although it's never helped with my squick-by-proxy thing at fans, or people, asking absurd and thoughtless questions or acting like there's not a difference between media and reality. Fandom can be life, but the source material is still media. Worthy of discussion, but not a blank slate to bring poor socialization to a public forum and inflict it on people). One of the people I met at that first con was Emily, via [ profile] cofax7 and I had no idea how that meeting would influence my life. She lived in LA, but we didn't really have friends in common (yet) in a day to day, non-fannish way. But it was Em and she was always eager to welcome new people into her life - a skill that challenged me.

A month later, I'd posted about wanting to see Jude and Tom McRae (at the height of his influence on fandom) and she asked to go with me. I was already going with a non-fannish friend, but I said sure, and then sweated all night about the meetings of those two worlds. How on earth would I explain Em? I even thought, briefly, about ignoring her phone call about where to meet, but ultimately, I steeled my nerves and called her back. But it was Em - cool in any situation, unflappable, good-natured, and embracing of everyone. Unashamed of fandom, unashamed of her love of anything, and she just...stopped me in my tracks. I was so grateful for her, for those qualities of hers, the way she made everything feel both utterly normal and like an acid trip.

And the next year, at the next con, she was someone who was part of my orbit, who I had slowly and carefully come to love and admire, and be flummoxed by and worried for, but adored. She was this shining star in a crowd, and she sat down at dinner (30 minutes late) and ate half of what I'd ordered, and was just...more herself than anyone I've ever known. It made me want to start folding in and out, bringing in the parts of me that it had seemed so important to hide, and to re-examine judgements and secrets and fears.
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
So, even though this is my fifth (sixth?) year doing Yuletide, I convinced myself it was due the 24th and not the 22nd, and am sort of fucked. Sigh. Double sigh.

This was not the year to try and finish something, and so I am thrilled to answer questions, but it might be a few days as I flail through a story!

A story, I might add, that finally got some momentum now that I KNOW I don't have time to write it. Isn't that always the way.

In the meantime, the big cat still wants to eat the little cat, but he's momentarily decided to settle for eating the poor wee Christmas tree. He's magnanimous that way.
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
It's already mid-December, and I'm stuck on my Yuletide assignment and I need some writing mojo and practice, so if anyone wants to play... (I've stolen the second half of the month from [ profile] vonniek in theory and practice and appreciate being able to copy and paste those clean dates:) Feel free to choose dates, but I suspect I'll pick and choose as I go:)

Dec 17
Dec 18
Dec 19
Dec 20
Dec 21
Dec 22
Dec 23
Dec 24
Dec 25
Dec 26
Dec 27
Dec 28
Dec 29
Dec 30
Dec 31
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
So this weekend I gorged on all of the media I've been waiting for: Catching Fire, Doctor Who, and Fangirl. And none of it let me down.

Catching Fire )
Doctor Who )

Fangirl and Eleanor & Park )

If anyone wants to discuss any of these things, I would love to! Particularly the books!
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
We went to play Doctor Who trivia last night, and ended up squarely in the middle (in part because there were several tables of 10 people, which seemed a little unfair, except the winners were two cheerful middle aged dudes). But, as if all of the push from BBCA and the media in general wasn't compelling enough, I watched the end of Season 6 again, and I know that it's flawed, and I know Moffat is all over the place on so many things, but none of that dampens my enjoyment of River Song, or of 11. Or of the Ponds. Sigh.

Also, the level of fangirl swag on display was beautiful and astonding - tardis sweaters, and hairbows, and t-shirts. Suspenders and fez's and backpacks. I myself have beautiful "Don't Blink" earrings that my husband bought me for Christmas. It was truly a room filled largely, but not exclusively, with excited,excitable fangirls and it was strange to feel so connected with the source material and so removed from the "fannishness" of it, considering I turned M. into a true convert ( a zealous, emotional convert). But my own fannishness is so rooted in the 11th Doctor, and I don't know why. I'm not much for Clara (although I don't think it's her fault), but I love 11's silliness, profundity, and charm and I love the Ponds, and I love River Song, despite any of the fannish blowback towards Moffat and I cannot wait for Saturday.

I know fandom has moved on to shinier, newer, differently problematic sources (so often ones that continue to involve white dudes writhing around with various other white dudes), but I want to wallow in my nostalgia. I want adventure fic with 11 and River. It has to be out there, right? I'm so out of the loop that any recs would be welcome!

Also, for those of you needing to get folks into a new fandom, but lacking the appropriate resources, I now have a delightful, inexpensive solution for you: Liz Tells Frank: The Skip It Watch It Guides

It is delightful. It is useful. It is the perfect holiday gift. (And I may have a tiny personal investment in it's success:)
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
Dear Yuletide Writer,

First, I apologize for failing to put my LJ address on my submission. In my defense, I was fast running out of minutes to still sign up and hadn't really considered what to ask for! Still, that doesn't much help you. So, I'd like to thank you in advance for the gift. Yuletide is mostly the only fannish thing I still participate in, but I love it, and I feel like my own participation is my yearly tithe to fandom, which I still very much love, and which has given me so much.

So, the things I love - generalized - because I honestly don't remember all of what I request for Yuletide (so above).

a) stories about young women being bad ass (intellectually, emotionally, physically, quietly) and any combination thereof. I know I requested The Westing Game. If that's what you're writing about, I very much love Turtle, Angela, and the friends/family they created and have. I seriously have no problem with any story ideas, but I'm a fan of holiday stories, so feel free to write about an extended Wexler holiday.

b) reworkings, retellings, remixing - I know there's a fairytale in there. I'd love to see a modern take on it.

c) fun, romping, kissing, growing up, solving mysteries, out-smarting, competence, banter, angst, and puzzles are all fair game

Things I don't love:
character death, angst for the sake of angst, infantilization of grown-ass characters, character assassination in general. I'm not much of a slash fan for the sake of it, but I have no objection to it if that's your bag and you can make me believe that these characters really dig each other.

Basically, I'm a big fan of story and story telling and I'm truly grateful for whatever Yuletide gift I receive!

Thank you in advance!
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
The fabulous [ profile] rubberneck has offered insta-fic from a list of tropes. People, take her up on this offer.

My desire to post more is strong. My time and incentive is weak. Do the math.

However, I will crib many memes I see going on right now.

I've liberated this meme from [ profile] troyswann and [ profile] _minxy_ but I'm putting my own spin on it. If you want answers to any of these questions/topics, tell me which one:
Read more... )

Or, in which I steal from Feldman, Pick a trope from this list and provide a fandom/pairing and I’ll tell you something about the story I’d write for that combination (i.e. write a snippet from the story or write not!fic or tell you the title and summary for the story I would write).

+ bodyswap
+ pretending to be married/fake dating
+ high school/college AU
+ telepathy
+ handcuffed together
+ snowed-in
+ next-door neighbors AU
+ secretly a virgin
+ be careful what you wish for
+ accidental baby acquisition
+ truth or dare
+ sharing a bed
+ road trip
+ groundhog’s day/time travel
+ curtain fic/domestic fic

Thank you to the thefted:)
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
I've been working on a series of essays, one of which turned into a rant against those people who inevitably post on any article that suggests being overweight is not a sin against humanity about how it is "IN FACT A SIN AGAINST HUMANITY YOU EVIL PEOPLE LACK DISCIPLINE AND ARE A DRAIN ON DECENT SOCIETY."

I know it's pointless to rage about them. It just...I hate being told what to do. And I hate, and have always hated, the idea that ANYONE thinks they have a right to an opinion on my body and my choices, if those choices don't effect other people. There's something about the tone of those folks that makes me insane in a different way than the normal ignorant, opinionated assholes do. It's that feeling of...the superiority of the disciplined, I suppose. The "I don't overeat, or indulge, and I exercise, how freaking hard is that?" smug superiority of those who think that its a justification to be an asshole about someone else, the last vestige of allowed judgement. It's old ground, but it never fails to boil my blood.

As a writing exercise, however, it's ending up more rant than exploration, and then becomes equally pointless. I can only say "fuck them in their fucking face" so many times before it lacks impact. And possibly couth.

Our relationships to our bodies are so complicated - the love and hate, the acceptance and rejection, and while I don't think that men have it any easier, there is the doubly challenging feeling as a woman (for me as a tall woman in addition) of feeling like I take up too much space. Like I'm somehow using more resources with those extra inches. Writing about those feelings is equally complicated - there are so many layers of identity and identification, wanting to always side with those being oppressed, decried but never wanting to be completely identified with them, and the shame in that dichotomy. The work it takes to acknowledge that shame, identify those feelings, and boot them out the door.

Which is to say that I'm back-burnering that essay for awhile to finish the sports vs. sports narrative piece*, particularly appropriate as football season has started and my husband has literal dreams of the Eagles finishing well this season and sinks into depression at their defeats, and I look at him in bafflement and then conjuring up the feeling of a terrible episode or a recent cancellation and remember that sports fans are people too.

*Sadly, the sports piece desperately underutilizes the word fuck. It's like it's not even my writing.
itsallovernow: (No-Kerne)
I'd love to commit to posting every day, although I suspect it's a losing proposition. Still, my goal is to write more this September and this seems like a way to start. I have all these half-finished essays, these lingering story thoughts but nothing sticks these days. I need a focus, and I need some follow through.

So, we're watching Orange is the New Black and it's so good. Just so, so good. I have many thoughts, but we haven't finished the season yet, so I'll come back to it. But such amazing relationships, and moments and gooey smart things to think about, and so many great women, and women's connections, and interactions and...characters.

Also, my husband's web series (which he wrote, directed, produced) is finally airing. It's a history of the cocktail, with a snazzy host, and some great drink techniques included and it looks amazing. (Not that it seems like it will be amazing, but the visuals and the "look" of the show is really solid, really beautiful and it will make you long for one of the cocktails you see in front of you). This week's episode is on gin, filmed at two of my favorite places in LA, and proving that I really need to invest in a bottle of chartreuse.

Check it out:

(YouTube is somehow not letting this show up in Canada. I don't's the link on the website:


itsallovernow: (Default)

January 2016

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