This will be the last entry I make on this journal - from now on, all my fannish goings-on will be happening at my new comm, volehole. Please friend there if you liked my (sporadic) posts here - I promise I'll be updating that baby a lot more often, and also be making (new!) themed rec lists every month (at least), starting later today.

I'll still be keeping this journal around, because anybody who's linked to my fic will have linked here, but again, I'll be posting everything new at volehole. So, see you there?

I think it's mostly laziness with the logging-in and logging-out. That, and the fact that I would much rather be posting everything to 20thcenturyvole, but can't because my brother and sister read it and I really don't want my big brother asking me about my NC-17 slash. Surely I'm paranoid, you say; it's not like he'd deliberately read it (or at least part of it) just so he could assess how much he was going to mock me later. You don't know him, flist; he totally would.

Poll #1100843 Because everything is made better by polls, including laziness:
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 4

Should 20thcenturyvole phase out Volefan and start up a private community instead?

Polls make me feel better. Now, onto actual fandom:

If you haven't read leahwoof's The Soul and the Company Store (a remix of lavvyan's WIP Male Enhancement) yet, RUN, do not walk. If there is even a shred of love for science fiction in your soul - and I don't mean SciFi channel, I mean Isaac Asimov and Philip K. Dick, which should give you a glimmer of what this story is about - then this story will make you want to offer Leah your firstborn child. The link takes you to all the story notes, and from there to the first part of the story. Set aside several hours; in fact, set aside a full evening, making sure you don't have to get up early in the morning. It's a novel, but trust me, this is worth it.

I really want to ramble like the geeky English major I am (I once wrote an exam essay on the philosophical implications of cyborgs, you know), but that would be very spoilery and basically take me the entire afternoon. I will add, though: if you want more after this and you happen to be a due South fan, I would recommend following it up with troyswann's Real Boys, which is even more Philip K. Dick-ian and currently has a sequel in progress. The themes of what it means to be born, to be conscious, to be real, are all as present there as they are in Leah's story.

(Man, flist: when I get an iPod - and I will some day, even if it means robbing an Apple store - I will hunt down every podcast of every wonderful story in this and every other fandom and stick 'em on there before I even consider taking up the space with music. I can't wait for someone to podcast The Soul and the Company Store, because it just reads like one of those stories that should be read out loud in all its length. And yes, that's a hint.)

~

In other news, I haven't watched Heroes, SGA, or any other currently-airing American TV for - well, damn near a month now. I am going to be eating up bandwidth like Pacman pellets when I get back to New Zealand, flist, and I will not care how it slows everyone else down. I did, however, watch The Peacekeeper Wars, and all I can say is: *flail* Also, Braca/Scorpy OTP 4eva. That is all.

A place where I MUST DIVERT YOUR ATTENTION IMMEDIATELY:

wintercompanion is a community set up by wojelah and trobadora to be - as wojelah put it - "a nefarious plot to get us more Ten/Jack." And what more worthy cause?

Go on! Leave prompts, sign up, pimp it far and wide, for surely there is not enough Ten/Jack in the wide world.

Ganked from ignipes and strangefrontier:

When you see this post, quote from Doctor Who on your LJ.

"I lied to you, because I liked it. I could pretend, just for a bit, I could imagine they were still alive, under the burnt orange sky. I'm not just a Time Lord; I'm the last of the Time Lords. The Face of Boe was wrong; there's no-one else."

"What happened?"

"There was a war. A time war; the last great time war. My people fought a race called the Daleks, for the sake of all Creation, and they lost. We lost, everyone lost. They're all gone now; my family, my friends, even that sky. Oh, you should have seen it, that old planet! The second sun would rise in the south and the mountains would shine. The leaves on the trees were silver; when they caught the light every morning it looked like a forest on fire..."

- The Doctor and Martha, Gridlock.

*shrieks*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!

*runs around like headless chicken*

*stops for breath*

AH! *gasp* AHH! *gasp* -GH! *waves hands*

( Cut for marginally more coherent spoilers. Also, wow, length. )

That took me three hours to write. Gyah. Must go to bed now.

Vidding the Yellow-Eyed Demon's attempt at the apocalypse to "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash: theoretically awesome, Y/N?

Also, GIP.

Dear Dean Winchester,

Grand Funk to put your brother in the mood? OH MY GOD STOP MAKING ME LOVE YOU.

No, really, stop making me love you. I have essays.

Verklempt,

Me.

P.S: Nooo, that level of investment in your brother's love life isn't subtextual at all.

~*~

No, really, the first time in MY LIFE that I can watch a show and consistantly name that tune. Why yes, my dad does have a gigantic record collection and a fully-functional turntable, why do you ask?

Seriously, flist, I am now three episodes away from the end of the first season, and I hear those three are a doozy, as is the first of the second season, so I'm waiting until they're all downloaded so I can watch them in a big chunk. In the meantime, I may get a start on those 1700 words that are due on Monday. Or I may find something else to distract me until bedtime. Uh, yeah, behold a master at work.

(I need a Dean icon right now.)

ETA: Finally watched up to 201. God, people, how did you survive that hiatus? *clutches chest* Oh, Dean!

Also, um, wow, John. ( Uh, cut for fanwanking on the subject of John Winchester, which is sort of an I-understand-but-do-not-empathise deal. )

Clearly, the Petrellis are the gateway drug of gay incest pairings (and oh my God, I can't beleive I just typed that), because while looking for one last way to distract myself last night, I started reading astolat's Supernatural fics, and no longer found myself squicked out. And, um, now I've read all of them and want more, goddammit.

I mean, okay: if you've been reading either of my journals, you know that I am, like, the one person on LJ who managed to avoid Supernatural when it ate fandom in much the same way that SGA had the year before, and I've held out this long, but it snuck up on me, okay, so UNCLE, ALREADY. *spreads arms* TAKE ME, JENSEN ACKLES, I'M READY. BRING ON THE BROYAY.

*toes ground*

I assume there's a download comm?

FLIST. HELLO. WHY IS NO-ONE POSTING IN A FLAIL OF CAPSLOCKS ABOUT TONIGHT'S DOCTOR WHO OR, MORE IMPORTANTLY, THE TRAILER AT THE END OF IT? Except wojelah, who was, like, the only one that I could see.

Doctor Who desperately needs an awesome newsletter like SGA has. Then I could read all the flail the morning after and bask, you know? Also, I'd know that there were more than, like, four people writing good Who fic on the whole of LJ. (Also, what the hell, Auntie Beeb? Two weeks? Is this something to do with football? It's something to do with football, isn't it. God, if it's because of a snooker tournament you are going to have a riot on your hands.)

But seriously: flail with me, flist! COME ON. FLAIL. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.

Subtitle: Vole really doesn't want to be making this post, because she fears an army of angry nymphomaniac lavender bees swarming towards her over the horizon.

Ages ago - before Christmas ago - I may have, obliquely and like a total fic-tease, promised lavvyan a story for her birthday. I'm not even sure I can remember the prompt now - no, wait. Yes I can: John begging for Rodney's life. I remember I was all angsted-out, so I decided to incorporate it in some teh funneh way instead. I... I haven't written that part yet. In fact, I got stuck on page three somewhere around New Year's and haven't been able to write another satisfactory paragraph since.

So, I'm going to post what I've got here, mostly as a meek and pathetic offering, but also because, while I'm not ready to declare this one quite dead, I could maybe use a second opinion. And some defibrillators.

( Lavvyan's poor, unseasonal birthday fic - PG, John/Rodney, with additional Millers. )

Yes, it is kind of set in the House Is Not A Home 'verse.