Thank you for signing up to write a story for me! You're one of 12 people (one of whom was me) who offered to write for The Parent Trap, one of 7 people (one of whom was me) who offered to write for Heinlein's multiverse, and/or one of 9 people (one of whom was me) who offered to write for Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego?, and I love you for that alone.

If you check out my userinfo, you'll find a 'thon policy which implores that you be true first and foremost to the prompt and your muse, and to consider whether I'd like a story as, at most, a secondary concern. I stand by that, but I also recognize there is a sense that a yuletide story is explicitly a gift in a way which most 'thon fics aren't, so feel free to surf through this journal to get a feel for me (let me note that nothing to see here is my incest tag), and here's a little bit more, if you are interested, to help you understand how I relate to the specific texts and characters in the fandoms I've requested and what I might like.

I'm drawn to what I call will-to-poweriness, the adolescent fantasy, the desire to exceed oneself that also draws me to things like superhero comics (one of my fandoms is, indeed, X-Men) and fantasy shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer (which is my main fandom). My especial kink is children and teenagers who prove themselves to be the equals (or betters) to adults because they are just that awesome. All of this comes through in my requests, I think. There is a clear will-to-poweriness in Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego?, most of all in Carmen herself, of course, beyond good and evil, doing whatever she wants whenever she wants because she can, stealing things for no good reason except as an expression of her superiority, the former ACME agent engaged in a perpetual game of cat and mouse. But also, on one level, in Zach and Ivy, the young (!!) ACME agents who pursue her, and on another level, in Player, just as much a teenager, radically empowered within the world of the game she plays and manipulates, Carmen's eternal antagonist. And likewise in The Parent Trap with Annie and Hallie and in Heinlein's novels with Laz and Lor; both sets of twins are constantly getting the better of the adults who surround them, setting up their own "parent traps" so to speak.

This, actually, is where my interest in incest comes from: with these radically autonomized figures no real problematization of consent is possible, an argument I make more fully in this post from 2006. But don't feel like you have to write incest if you've matched up with me on Heinlein or on The Parent Trap; I'd much prefer experiencing the characters as you see them behaving in-character as you see them than twisted out of shape to force them into bed with each other. The most important thing is to preserve the canon dynamics--I have my trusty 'cest goggles for everything else. Although if you throw me a bone in making it subtexty, that's wonderful too. (Finding a way too insert gratuitous nudity or close touching into The Parent Trap shouldn't be too difficult. Getting Laz and Lor to wear any clothes at all might be.)

Although, really, Laz/Lor is pretty much canon, no? But there is a way in (my corners of, I don't know whence you hail) fandom that we use sex as a metaphor for emotional intimacy, so that twincest becomes the deepest, strongest type of interpersonal communion imaginable--and this is the dynamic I'm looking for with Annie/Hallie and Laz/Lor, the way their strongest bond is to each other, and if you feel most comfortable providing that bond in a non-sexual way that's still absolutely wonderful.

( more on the parent trap )

( more on where on earth is carmen sandiego )

( very little about r.a.h. )

Thank you again for writing a story for me. Be true to your own muse, and I'm sure I'll love the result!

Yours in La Mancha,

Episkopos Reverend Alixtii O'Krul V, TRL
Church of St. Jesu the Heretic, Discordian

( spoilers for tonight's VMars ) off the top of my head I don't know how to conjugate the plural of machina--help anyone? ( More spoilers )

Yeah. I really have to say, not as good as Torchwood. Be cool again, Veronica. Be will-to-powery. Or have you matured beyond that? Is that little piece of Kitty Pryde Lilly Kane inside you dead?

Oh well. 5 days until the next Torchwood!

Gilmore Girls

I really liked it. Plot stuff was good, nice developments, dialogue was fun, Alexis is still hot. Two thumbs up.

Although what was up with those act breaks? I mean, I know, "fade out on scary monster" isn't so much an option in this genre, but still.

Veronica Mars

Honestly, only look under the cut if you're really bored. Short story is I enjoyed it. Under the cut is random impression recorded as I watched.

( spoilers, sorta )

Anyone who has been following this LJ knows I am a defender of seriality. I (in theory if not always in practice) wait until a work is finished to start posting but still serial post it anyway, and always use the same anecdote about my brother complaining about how shows on DVD are missing something without the commercials. It's an intellectual position designed to give the author as many tools in their toolbox as possible, because most of my flist are talented writers whom I trust to use those tools effectively. The anticipation, the frustration, the withdrawal: these emotions, while not always pleasant, are sometimes what we need even if they aren't what we want. (Yes, I will go to the grave defending Joss for that quote.)

But don't think for a moment that I'm immune to the pleasure of inhaling an entire chaptered fic or season on TV. There's something wonderful about being so caught up in a fictional universe that one loses track of the soi-disant "real world" (which makes me think about how it has been way too long since I've read a novel, especially a long one).

Of course, the simple truth is that for the most part, the only practical mechanism for producing such detailed worldbuilding and depth of story is a serial one. So we have a paradox; we must embrace seriality in order to eschew it.

Which is a (characteristically, for me) long-winded way of saying that I've spent the last week or so mainlining episodes of The 4400. I watched season 1 (such as it is) last Saturday, and watched season 2 (again, such as it is) Thursday and Friday.

The 4400, while excellently done science-fiction, isn't nearly will-to-powery enough (which is one of its strengths, actually) for it to earn the sort of love I have for Buffy or Veronica Mars. (When they start the spin-off series Tess of the 4400, on the other hand....) But I think it'll settle in comfortably with my other minor fandoms.

( Vaguely spoilerish? )

( Quotes )

It's Bufferverse Day 2005. So. . . .

Why do I love the Buffyverse? ( Well, why do I? ) Buffy allows me to vicariously live out the adolescent fantasy without ever treating me like a child: it assumes that I'm culturally literate and can get a joke about Sartre or Arthur Miller, that I can follow a complex plotline drawn out over several years, that I'm interested in the depths of human emotion, and that I care about the characters as more than just fighters of evil. That I am prepared to face some of the darker sides of human nature. That I will notice the gender and racial politics at work within the show. That my desire for knowledge, my desire for power, and my sexual desire are all intertwined and that it is possible to engage them all at once.

Buffy is intelligent television.

The show isn't afraid to blur the line between hero and villain. Angel, Spike, Darla, Drusilla, Amy, Willow, Faith, Wesley, Giles, Anya, Lilah, Lindsey, Eve, Quentin, Roger, Illyria, and even Buffy herself challenge the clear and easy distinction between hero and villain and make it extremely clear that "normative" is not always the same as "good." In doing so, the show flirts with the fascination I and others feel for the villain, recognizing it as not essentially something belonging to the Other (the monstrous, the vampiric), but something which is essentially human. We empathize and identify with Faith and Willow as they go evil--and as we confront them on the screen, we confront ourselves.

( Read more... )