Fanfiction

So, over a month later, I have finally bullied myself into sitting at my computer and typing out this blog post. A while ago, I said that I would post some fanfiction I’d written recently, so this is it.

I wrote this in about 10 minutes in a random notebook during my biology class, so I’m not too sure how good it is. Personally, I’d score this a 6 or 7 out of 10, but then, I’m a harsh grader.

Anyway, if you’re a fan of Doctor Who, continue reading! I’d promise you like it, but then, that’s up to you, isn’t it?

Side note: I write best in 2nd person, so that’s why this fic is in 2nd person. Yeah, it’s slightly odd, but I find it easiest to write like this. Why, I have no idea.

So, without further ado, I present to you my writing once again:

Maybe It’s The Hair

You put your earbuds in, fiddling with the left one as you walk down the street. The left earbud never fails to fall out within five minutes of putting it in, so you make a halfhearted attempt to wriggle it into your ear enough that it stays put. You finally manage to fit the damn thing in, and turn your attention to your phone.

You quickly scroll past the instrumentals and take a glance at the slower music before moving on. You feel like listening to something fast-paced, the type of song that gets your heart pounding, your blood racing, and makes everything you do look and sound badass. You look through the playlist named simply, ‘cool.’ How about AC/DC? No. Arctic Monkeys? Not today. Daft Punk? Not the right song. You make a right and turn down a quieter road, still focused on your phone. A gust of wind blows and you pull your scarf tighter around your neck.

Suddenly, something shoots out from an alleyway and latches onto your right arm. You look down, but the thing holding onto you is like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Tan, three-fingered, and heavily callused, the hand pulls you further into the alleyway. A face emerges from the shadows. Wait, is that … Mr. Potato Head? A head domed and ugly, with a heavy brow, sunken eyes, an upturned nose, and a strange smile stretched across it’s face, the creature before you could only be described as utterly and wholly alien.

“Yes, you will make a fine piece of bait to catch the Doctor,” it says. It’s voice has an almost robotic echo, and it sounds raspy and weirdly accented.

“W-wait, what doctor?” You stammer as it turns and begins walking back down the alleyway, keeping a firm grasp on your arm. As the thing steps into a bit of light, you see that it’s body is covered in some sort of metallic armor, the type that cheesy overly-fake sci-fi TV shows put on their ‘aliens.’

It does not answer you, choosing to continue on. You pull on your arm, trying and failing to get the creature’s grip to loosen. “Hey man, I’m just looking to get home,” you say, trying to speak calmly. By the look on the creature’s face as it turns to you, you’re definitely in some deep shit. You hurry on. “I don’t know any doctors around here, I’m just passing through because I missed my bus and I have to get home–”

The creature laughs in its deep rough voice and you squirm. The laugh emitting from the creature sounds threatening and fake and just wrong, as if such a creature should not ever be laughing.

“We’re not just looking for any human doctor, boy! We’re searching for the Doctor! The greatest protector of humanity in this universe, and an old enemy of my race.” It’s funny, but you could have sworn that the creature had almost sounded proud when it told of having an old enemy.

You open your mouth and start to pull air in, curious about this ‘race’ the creature spoke of, but before your lips can form a word, a hand clamps down hard over your mouth. You freeze, but the creature doesn’t notice. The owner of the hand leans forward and quickly whispers into your ear.

“Hello there, I’m the Doctor, and I’m going to get you out of this mess. I’m going to need you to stay calm, run when I tell you to, and follow me carefully. I’ll explain once we’re in a safer place. Now, in a few minutes, something is going to happen. I can’t tell you what, as I don’t really know myself, but trust me, you’ll know it when you see it. But anyway, when that something happens, you’re going to need to run. Fast. It’ll be the fastest you’ve ever run, and you can’t let your legs give in. All I ask is that you keep running. It’s, literally, a matter of life and death.” All this is said at an alarmingly quick pace, and you find yourself struggling to take in the sudden flow of information.

The (Doctor? Mysterious savior? Random prisoner?) leans forward again. “Got all that? Nod once if you do, and nod twice if you’d like me to explain it again. I’d really prefer that you nod once though, because we’ve not got much time before the–”

An explosion literally rocks the ground, and you are thrown backwards. The creature lets you go and runs off toward what you assume is the source of the explosion without a second thought for you. The (Doctor? Handsome hero? Prince Charming? Co-conspirator?) catches you before you hit the ground and sets you back on your feet. You turn around and look, really look, at him. He has brown hair that sticks up in the front, huge brown eyes, and is a little bit taller than you. He is also wearing a manic, truly insane grin that eerily resembles the Cheshire Cat’s famous smile.

“Come along, now, we’ve got work to do.” He grabs your hand and starts running back toward the road, and you, strangely, find yourself stumbling along behind him. His grip is loose enough that you could easily pull your hand from his, but for some unfathomable reason, you trust him.

Maybe it’s the hair.

Posted in Doctor Who, FANFIC, Writing | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

No one loves Snape like Snape loved Lily…

Because Snape wasn’t in love with Lily. He was obsessed, and that’s a really big difference from being in love with a person.

But anyway, this is a character analysis (aka meta post) about Severus Snape, because I felt like you guys (that’s the readers, obviously) needed a break from the complete radio silence and recently-blogged sexuality angstpost. Also, I told my English teacher that I was going to write a post and actually put it online this week. (Hi, Mrs. N!)

So, getting back to the point: Severus Snape.

Look at the bitchface on this man, like damn son I would kill to be able to pull off a bitchface like that man can.

I’ve got a little thing to confess: I love Severus Snape. I love his snark, I love his sarcasm, and I think he’s a pretty terrifyingly badass character.

I also think he’s an abusive, petty, neglectful bastard who can’t teach for shit. (Yes, I can recognize flaws in my favorite characters)

1. Severus Snape was a bad teacher.

There is no doubt about it: Severus Snape was a bad Potions professor and an even worse Headmaster. I’ve got some stuff to say about his position as Headmaster, but let’s talk about his Potions position first, shall we?

Harry Potter

See this adorable little nerd right here? Snape wants to crush him under his boot like a worm.

When Harry Potter walked into Hogwarts, Snape made it his mission to abuse, mistreat, neglect, and otherwise harm him. This is evidenced by Snape’s actions during Harry’s first Potions lesson, when he called on an unprepared, uneducated student who had only known about magic for a few months before his arrival at Hogwarts. Obviously, to fire questions at one’s students on the first day, when it is perfectly logical and reasonable to assume that at least a few of those same students have never brewed potions before, is a bad way to teach.

Snape went above and beyond this. He asked Harry, specifically, “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Snape then continued to pepper Harry with questions, taking points off when Harry didn’t know them. Admittedly, I do see the point in wanting to know if your students had actually cracked open their schoolbooks during the summer, but Snape directed his questions only at Harry, and scorned Hermione when she tried to answer them. We see Snape from Harry’s biased point-of-view, so our perspectives of the Potions professor are somewhat tainted, but anyone who had observed that first scene would have realized that what Snape did was, at the very least, slightly unethical.

An addendum to this scene: Some fans have theorized that Snape meant something when he asked Harry about asphodel and wormwood. Apparently, in the Victorian language of flowers, asphodel is a type of lily meaning ‘my regrets follow you to the grave,’ and wormwood means ‘absence’ and symbolizes bitter sorrow. When you apply these meanings to the question Snape asks, its meaning changes to something along the lines of “Lily’s death is bitterly regretted.” Honestly, I think this is just J.K.’s mastery at work again, and isn’t supposed to be an intentional message from Snape to Harry. Besides, does Snape really expect Harry, an 11-year-old, to know the Victorian language of flowers? A pureblood first year might know the meaning of Snape’s question, but seeing as Malfoy was in Harry’s class and didn’t show any signs of having realized what Snape was allegedly trying to say, it’s pretty doubtful.

Snape continues to torment Harry throughout his years at Hogwarts, blaming him for others’ innocent mistakes–one notable incident occurred when Neville messed up his potion and Snape told Harry off for ‘not stopping Neville from doing the wrong thing.’ In his judgements, Snape is clearly biased against the houses Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, but has a vendetta for the Golden Trio in particular. Several incidences of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle tossing things into Harry’s potion in the middle of class, and Snape rounding on Harry for messing up, have occurred throughout the series. Obviously, Snape chooses to let the Slytherins have free reign in his classroom, and tries to thoroughly and completely squash anyone else who tries to achieve greatness under his foot.

Hermione Granger

This little girl? Snape hates her too.

This is further demonstrated in GoF, when Snape happens upon the Trio and Malfoy’s troupe of Slytherins fighting in the hall. As far as I can remember (I don’t have a copy of the 4th book on hand right now), Malfoy (?) hexes Hermione with Densaugeo, making her two front teeth (which she happens to be very self-conscious about) grow incredibly large. I think she was described as looking like a beaver in the book. Anyway, Snape looks around. He sees the evidence of a fight, and his eyes land on Hermione, who, at this point in time, is almost sobbing. Or at least I think so. But anyway, he says, “I see no difference” in Hermione’s appearance, and this sends Hermione into tears, and she flees the scene.

Additionally, Snape berates and humiliates Hermione countless times throughout the series; when she tries to help Neville, he tells her to stop; when she tries to answer a question, he calls her a know-it-all; he refers to her as the ‘Gryffindor know-it-all’, part of the Trio.

Some people have claimed that Snape hates and insults Hermione so much because she reminds him of another really smart, skilled female Gryffindor Muggleborn: Lily Evans.

What do I think? I think this is a bunch of crap. Yes, there are many surface similarities between Hermione and Lily, but wouldn’t Snape have tried to treat Hermione nicely, if he was supposed to have regretted Lily’s death so much? I don’t know about you, readers, but if I were reminded of a dead love by this precocious little kid, I wouldn’t treat them like shit. But anyway, let’s go on to Neville.

Neville Longbottom

And this innocent kid? Snape ruined his self-esteem.

 

Boy, have I got a lot to say about Neville and Snape.

From the very beginning of his 7 years at Hogwarts, Neville was constantly undermined, beaten down, and mentally and emotionally abused by Snape. Yes, abused. It is abuse if one of the people you can trust to take care of you insults your every attempt to learn, you know. Snape constantly talked down to Neville, told him he was nothing, and yelled at him every time he messed up, while making no attempt to correct Neville’s mistakes and teach him the correct methods of brewing.

Also, I want to talk a bit about a small moment in the 3rd book, PoA.

When Remus Lupin, the Defense teacher in 1993, brought in a real live Boggart for his third-years to face, Neville’s worst fear was Severus Snape. His worst fear wasn’t his parents lying dead on the floor, or Voldemort reborn, come to kill them all, or even a small phobia. It was his goddamn Potions professor. A teacher is someone you can trust, and at Hogwarts especially so. They do board there for 10 months out of the year, of course. But even if you can’t exactly trust your professor, you’d probably know them well enough that you wouldn’t really fear them. Except when you hadn’t done your homework.

But Neville? Neville was scared. He was scared of one of the only authority figures in his school life, because in his three years at Hogwarts, Snape had done nothing for Neville but insult him, laugh at his attempts at brewing, and completely undermine Neville’s enthusiasm and self-esteem. And to make things worse, Snape probably knew it. No, he definitely did. In canon, Snape treated Neville considerably worse after the Boggart lesson, because he had heard that Lupin had coached Neville to imagine Snape in Augusta Longbottom’s clothing. Like I said, abuse.

Snape really fucked up Neville’s education, in summary. And watching the frustration and hate grow in a young boy for a valuable subject and skill, to the point where he would shudder when talking about Potions or Snape, is just so sad. Because, as we saw in DH, Neville is a hero, in his own way. He helped kill Voldemort, stood up to the whole of the Death Eater army and the Dark Lord, and organized children into a veritable army. And this makes me wonder; if Snape had been a real, caring, good teacher, what would Neville have managed to accomplish in his Potions class? Would he potentially have gone on to invent the Wizarding World’s equivalent to a cancer cure? Maybe a better version of the Wolfsbane potion?

I have no idea. And that makes me sad. Because, if Neville, the boy ridiculed by pretty much everyone in his own house, was able to do such great things, how many other students has Snape’s negligence and shitty-as-hell teaching skills ruined?

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Let’s sit back and summarize for a second, just to review what we’ve seen of Snape.

  • He undermined and ruined many students’ potentials
  • He neglected his teaching
  • He outright abused many of his students

Right.

Keeping all that in mind, let’s proceed to the topic of:

2. Lily Potter

(damn, this is a long post. 1540 words written already, and I still haven’t reached the Marauders yet)

Snape and Lily’s friendship is a very…complicated thing. The two were friends from their pre-Hogwarts years to right after the 5th-year OWLS. Then, Snape did the unthinkable: he called Lily a Mudblood.

In the HP canon, as J.K. has structured it, to call someone a Mudblood is, in a pinch, really fucking terrible. I’d wager it’s worse than calling someone the n-word, especially since that word has been removed of most of its shock value with pop culture. White boys, y’know? They just never stop calling each other f****ts and n****rs. (“Woo, yeah, let’s go make light of minorities’ struggles by calling each other derogatory insults!” seems to be the mentality I’ve seen.)

So, keeping in mind the sheer horror and intensity of the word ‘Mudblood,’ let’s proceed.

Snape and Lily, at the point in time before the Incident, were great friends. Though Lily disapproved of Snape’s associates in Slytherin, and Snape, in turn, disapproved of James Potter’s constant flirting with Lily, they were still the closest things to best friends they would ever be, up until the Incident.

The Incident itself is a pretty horrifying thing. Imagine that you’ve had a friend for, oh, about 6-8 years now. You share several very important secrets (the magic thing, for one) and you’re pretty much always seen together, even though everyone in your school disapproves of your friendship. You think you’re probably going to stay friends forever, and you plan to stay that way. Then, your best friend in the world calls you the most demeaning, insulting thing ever known to man (or wizard, in this case). Obviously, you’re going to feel betrayed, destroyed, like your friendship is now worthless. You probably never want to talk to your former friend again. Thing is, he keeps trying to talk to you.

That was probably Lily Evans’ reaction to the Incident. It’s entirely reasonable that she would act aloof, cold, and even rude to her former best friend after these events, no? Then why is it that people insist that Snape should have married Lily, and that Lily should have, in the words of a certain Tumblr user, “just sucked it up and forgiven him”?

Honestly, Snape merely fancied himself in love with Lily. He wasn’t in love with Lily, he was in love with the idea of her. He stalked her to the point of obsession, obsession so severe that his Patronus mirrored hers exactly.

Creep.

That’s not love. Having your Patronuses match doesn’t show love, it shows obsession. What James Potter had with Lily is a different matter. James’ Patronus was a stag. Lily’s, a doe. They were a pair, the two of them. Snape’s Patronus matched Lily’s, not because he loved her so much, but because he was obsessed.

Besides, if the real Lily Potter, not the construct Snape had built in his own mind, were alive, and if Snape were to tell her of his affections, I bet she would bitchslap him so hard there wouldn’t be anything left of him for James.

Seriously.

A man abuses your child for six years, plots to sacrifice the lives of your husband and child so that you can live, helped in the alienation of your elder sister, completely hated your husband and his friends, exposes your friend’s ‘furry little secret’ to the world, and then tells you he’s in love with you?

Because, of course it’s completely in character for Lily to say “OMG, I want a love story in which my best friend calls me a racial slur and then proceeds to join a terrorist group based on killing people of my heritage and then accidentally endangers me and tries to bargain the lives of my child and the man I love away in exchange for me like some creepy bartering system and in causing my death decides to protect my son out of guilt but really spends his entire childhood being an asshole to him – OH WAIT”

Basically, telling people you think Snape’s actions in the first six books and most of the last book are completely justified by his betrayal of Voldemort and ‘love’ for Lily is the cue for me to whip out my 2k+ metapost and slap you with it.

Also, telling people you “love them like Snape loved Lily” isn’t really a good thing.

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And that’s the end of my hella long spiel on Snape. For now.

I mean, I really appreciate his snarkiness, but he doesn’t make for a character that symbolizes ‘good’ nearly as much as people think he does.

That said, I think Severus Snape is motherfucking fabulous.

And with that said, I think I’ll end the post here. This monster’s almost 2,400 words long, so…

Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I’m working on a Who fic I think some of you guys’ll like. A lot. So keep your eyes open, I guess, and check back at this blog for more soon!

Posted in Blogging, Books, Fandom-related, fangirl stuff, Potterstuff, Theories | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

There’s something you should know about me…

First of all, I want to apologize to those of you who check my blog every week hoping for a new post. I know who you are, and I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be making any new posts for a while. Extenuating circumstances have sapped most of my enthusiasm for writing. In short, life’s been a b*tch. Yeah.

But that’s not the main reason I’m writing this post. I’ve decided to post this because

  1. I’m done with hiding a part of myself, at least online. (For the people who know me offline and still check this blog, I ask you not to judge me.)
  2. This is a backwards way of telling my friends who still read my blog who I am. Because otherwise, I’m terrible at saying stuff like this in person and would probably definitely f*ck it up.
  3. I felt like writing about something I really care about and actually showing it to people, for once.

A few things you should know about this post:

  1. This was originally written in response to a prompt my teacher gave us in class once.
  2. I’m still figuring my sh*t out, so don’t take the last sentence as set in stone. I’m still working myself out.
  3. Read the whole thing before you comment below, yeah?
  4. The statistics provided about Floridian law in one of the last few paragraphs are sourced from trustworthy material and are completely true as of March 10th, 2014.
  5. A few warnings for homophobic/transphobic slurs and treatment.

Alright, here we go.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

(In response to the prompt: “Have you ever broken someone’s heart? Have you ever had your heart broken?”)

As far as I can remember, I have never broken someone’s heart. Sure, I had the typical screaming matches with my parents, family, and former friends, but both members always seemed to bounce back from those fights, and there were many occasions of teary reconciliation on both ends. And you know what? I’m happy that I’ve never broken a heart. I’m happy that I’ve never had my heart broken, I am!

But, I’m also scared.

I’m scared that I’ll break my family’s heart when I tell them I’m not straight. I’m scared that my heart will break when I come out. I’m scared that by coming out, I’ll unearth deeply-rooted homophobia in parts of my family tree. I’m scared that my aunts, uncles, and cousins who are deep believers in heterosexuality will shun me. Hell, the atmosphere in my extended family was bad enough when one of my cousins got pregnant before she was married, and she was 22 and engaged at the time. If three of my aunts had the audacity to completely ignore her for months, what might happen to me when they find out I’m not straight? I’m scared that I won’t be accepted at family reunions, should I choose to bring a girlfriend along. I’m scared because I’ve heard of hate crimes and lynchings for less. A Muslim girl living in the US was killed because her father saw her holding hands with another girl, so what would happen to me if I were to kiss a girl in the company of certain relatives?

I’m scared that I’ll estrange some of my friends when I come out to them. I’m scared that I’ll never be looked at the same way again. I’m scared that I might lose the friendships of people I value, and I’m afraid because I know that that will hurt me. I’m scared that some people will spread nasty rumors about me at school, and I’m scared because I won’t know how to handle them. I’m scared because one of my friends who lives on the other side of the country suffers from severe gender dysphoria and isn’t allowed to dress like a boy or take testosterone because his parents are unsupportive and bigoted, and when he calls me and cries into the phone, I can’t do anything to help him. I’m scared because one of the people I know was severely injured, almost raped, and nearly killed because he chose the wrong person to come out to. I’m scared because when one of my friends called another boy a faggot,tranny, and a shemale because of his haircut, no one called them out on it. I’m scared because some of my friends have been bullied because they were brave enough to be themselves. I’m scared because I’ve heard horror stories about students, parents, and teachers bullying high school, middle school, and even elementary school kids because of their sexual or gender identity. I’m scared because sometimes, one of my friends makes a homophobic joke and everyone laughs along.

I’m scared because same-sex marriage is currently banned in Florida, and, because of the huge number of conservatives in my state, doesn’t seem to be changing anytime soon. I’m scared because, according to Florida law, I wouldn’t have the right to visit my wife if she were to be hospitalized, because we’d technically be a same-sex couple; because if I married a woman, our marriage wouldn’t be legally recognized in 33 out of 50 states in the US; because Florida law does not give me any protection against employment discrimination if I were open about my sexuality or gender identity; because if I wanted to rent an apartment with a girlfriend, there aren’t any current state laws that would stop a business from refusing us rental based on our sexuality. I’m scared because there hasn’t been a Florida law passed yet that addresses school bullying based on sexual or gender identity.

I’m scared because if I ever become a published author, I know that some parents would shun my work because of my sexuality, as if that were related to what I put down on paper. I’m scared because some people say that the abbreviation ‘LGBTQIAP+’ is “too confusing” for them, and refuse to recognize the ‘QIAP+’ part of their community. I’m scared because when Rick Riordan made one of the characters in the Heroes of Olympus series gay, people said that sexuality was something too confusing for children to understand, as if the romance between Percy and Annabeth was something not addressing sexuality. I’m scared because up until the age of 12, I wasn’t aware that any sexuality other than being hetero was normal or allowed, and I thought of myself as wrong, a freak, needing to be fixed. I’m scared because the other day I read an article about a little boy who killed himself, because one day he wore a pink dress to school and he was hated so much because of that clothing choice that he couldn’t stand it. I’m scared because I’ve seen normal people called nasty names and made jokes of and targeted because they had the audacity to be openly gay or bi or pan or ace or gray-a or demi or trans or bigender or genderqueer or genderfluid or anything that’s not the cisgender heteronormative way of life.

I’m a closeted pansexual gender-questioning teenage girl who’s scared of breaking hearts and having her heart broken, and I don’t know what to do.

Posted in Humanity, Me | Tagged , , | 15 Comments

Loki, Gender and Costume Design in Thor: The Dark World

themeepingkoala:

THANK YOU THIS IS WONDERFUL

Originally posted on Miriam Joy Writes:

This post will probably be long, but I was asked to write it (and I’ve been wanting to since I went to see this film), so at least I know I have one reader interested enough to read to the end. Oh, and there are lots of pictures.

Edit: I’ve noticed this post is getting a lot of traffic, which is AWESOME, but hey, I’m really skint, so while I hate being the writer who constantly self-promotes, maybe some of you unexpected visitors would be interested in checking out my ‘Books’ tab? Okay, I feel guilty just writing this. I’m gonna go now. Thanks for reading.

I am by no means the person best qualified to write this post. I’m not a long-term Marvel fan who grew up reading the comics and I still haven’t read them. I jumped on the Marvel bandwagon when the Avengers came out, like…

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Your Creation Museum Report

Originally posted on Whatever:

Yes, finally, ladies and gentlemen, I present you with your Creation Museum report! Thank you for your patience. Our report today has two parts: The first part is a photographic tour, with all the snarktasticness you’ve been no doubt hoping for. Click on the first picture and cruise on through. It’s long — 101 pictures — but, hey, you guys paid top dollar, so I don’t want to skimp. The second part, a think piece, if you will, is directly below. It’s no less snarky (as you will soon discover), but also somewhat more thoughtful. Enjoy.

ON THE CREATION MUSEUM
By John Scalzi

Here’s how to understand the Creation Museum:

Imagine, if you will, a load of horseshit. And we’re not talking just your average load of horseshit; no, we’re talking colossal load of horsehit. An epic load of horseshit. The kind of load of horseshit that…

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HALLOWEEN

Halloween is nearly upon us, readers. In preparation, I have temporarily changed my theme to Strange Little Town.

And yes, I haven’t posted in literal months… Yeah, there’s no good reason for that. I guess I just got lazy needed a break.

But anyway, I chose Strange Little Town in honor of a post series some friends of mine have invited me to join in: the Month-Long Halloween Extravaganza! Every week until Halloween, I’ll be posting something Halloween-related. Now, I suppose you want to know who will be joining in.

On Mondays, you can find a new post on Strike A Spark, run by River.

On Wednesdays, you can find a new post on Cloud’s World Of… written by Cloud.

And on Fridays, you’ll see a brand new post on this blog right here, written by me.

The post theme changes every week, and will include everything from creepy crafts and short stories to haunting recipes and the history of Halloween. It starts today (Oct. 1) on Strike A Spark, so head over to River’s blog right now for some Halloween awesomeness!

Posted in Awesomeness, Blogging, Halloween Extravaganza | Tagged | Leave a comment

Writing is hard.

Writing is very, very hard. Unless you’ve got a good prompt, of course. Recently, I was on Tumblr, scrolling through my dashboard. I saw a post that basically dared someone to write a fanfiction about another Tumblr user and the character of their choice and submit it to said Tumblr user. Since nearly everyone I follow likes Doctor Who, Supernatural, Sherlock, or all three, I thought this would be easy to write. I was wrong.

It took me three and a half hours, but I came up with three different versions of the same ficlet. One focuses on the Doctor Who universe, one on the Supernatural universe, and one on the Sherlock universe. I honestly don’t know which one I like best, but I thought you guys could choose for me. Warning: slight spoilers ahead for all three fandoms.

1. Doctor Who

You’re in your room, absent-mindedly scrolling through your Tumblr dashboard. You pause to reblog a fic dare post, hoping it’ll happen but doubting it will anyway. You scroll on until you see a post about Cas, Dean, and the absence of personal space between the two. You reblog that as well.

Your mind goes back to that fic dare post. You’d really love it if someone were to follow up and write a fic about you. It’d be fun to read, you think. “Ah well, it’s never going to really happen anyway,” you say to yourself.

Still, you refresh your dash, hoping for a new message to show up. There is nothing. The anons are absent today. “Bored,” you say, just to hear the sound of your voice. If only you had a gun and a spray-paint smiley face.

You scroll some more. Hmm, that Star Trek post’s good. Maybe I’ll reblog it. Wait… What’s this? All the posts on the dash have suddenly gone black. It’s as if they have been censored. W-what’s happening?

The black expands, turning the familiar blue of the dashboard background black as well. It creeps across your window, growing and growing. It consumes the address bar and the dock. Soon, it has nothing left to eat. Your entire screen has gone black. You tentatively press a key, hoping the computer has simply gone to sleep. You know it hasn’t.

Suddenly, the blackness jumps out, somehow escaping from the screen. It touches your desk, and the desk goes black. You frantically scoot your chair away, watching in horror as the terrible darkness spreads across your walls, across your possessions, turning your entire room black. You risk a glance out the window. Outside, everything has gone dark, even the sky. The stars are going out, you quote. Funny that something that was once in a show is happening in real life.

While you were distracted, the black has crept onto your chair. You jump up, but it is too late. The color spreads quickly across your skin, sharp prickles of pain following in its tracks. As you close your eyes, you vaguely wonder why your dash has color again. You black out.

——————————————————–

You wake up to the sound of something whooshing and a man’s voice saying something. You blink your eyes open. Where am I? Your room has been mysteriously replaced by an orange-y ochre-colored wall with strange dents scattered across.

Wait. This looks familiar. You look to your left. Faded red Converse stand there. You follow the brown pinstripe-clad legs up, up, up, until your eyes stop on a familiar face. “Doctor?”

The man you know as both David Tennant, Scotsman, and the Doctor, Time Lord, gapes at you.

“What? How do you know me? Do I know you?” He rushes out, clearly curious as to your sudden appearance in–Ohmygod, you’re in the TARDIS. “More importantly, how did you get here?” The question brings your attention from fangirling back to the Doctor.

“Well, Doctor,” you say as you slowly sit up. “It’s a long story. But then, we’ve got all the time in the world, don’t we?”

He grins quickly. “I like you. Now, you’ll explain everything as soon as I can get the TARDIS into the vortex. Can’t stay here right now, it’s not really a good idea.”

“Where are we?”

“… We might be on Krakatoa, and it might be a few minutes before the eruption…”

Your eyes widen, then you chuckle. “You’d better get moving then, shouldn’t you?” The Doctor rushes over to the console in response, starting a long and complicated dance around it.

“Actually, change of plans. We’re going to Earth, early 2000s. I’ve just got to pick up a friend and then we’ll be off.” he says as he shifts the wibbly lever to the right and presses several buttons. You recognize the blue stabilizers and giggle as he presses all the buttons but the blue ones.

As the TARDIS begins to emit the whooshing noise you remember, the Doctor smiles manically. “Allons-y!”

* * *

2. Supernatural

You’re in your room, absent-mindedly scrolling through your Tumblr dashboard. You pause to reblog a fic dare post, hoping it’ll happen but doubting it will anyway. You scroll on until you see a post about Avatar: The Last Airbender. You reblog that as well.

Your mind goes back to that fic dare post. You’d really love it if someone were to follow up and write a fic about you. It’d be fun to read, you think. “Ah well, it’s never going to really happen anyway,” you say to yourself.

Still, you refresh your dash, hoping for a new message to show up. There is nothing. The anons are absent today. “Bored,” you say, just to hear the sound of your voice. If only you had a gun and a spray-paint smiley face.

You scroll some more. Hmm, that Dean-is-a-Disney-princess post’s good. Maybe I’ll reblog it. Wait… What’s this? All the posts on the dash have suddenly gone black. It’s as if they have been censored. W-what’s happening?

The black expands, turning the familiar blue of the dashboard background black as well. It creeps across your window, growing and growing. It consumes the address bar and the dock. Soon, it has nothing left to eat. Your entire screen has gone black. You tentatively press a key, hoping the computer has simply gone to sleep. You know it hasn’t.

Suddenly, the blackness jumps out, somehow escaping from the screen. It touches your desk, and the desk goes black. You frantically scoot your chair away, watching in horror as the terrible darkness spreads across your walls, across your possessions, turning your entire room black. You risk a glance out the window. Outside, everything has gone dark, even the sky. Something’s wrong.

While you were distracted, the black has crept onto your chair. You jump up, but it is too late. The color spreads quickly across your skin, sharp prickles of pain following in its tracks. As you close your eyes, you vaguely wonder why your dash has color again. You black out.


——————————————————–

You wake up to the sound of a car engine’s low rumble and a man’s voice saying something. You blink your eyes open. Where am I? Your room has been mysteriously replaced by a road you lie on.

You look to your left. Faded shoes stand there. You follow the denim-clad legs up, up, up, until your eyes stop on a familiar face. “D-dean? Dean Winchester?

The man you know as both Jensen Ackles and Dean Winchester gapes at you. The surprised expression on his face is quickly replaced by a suspicious glare.

“How do you know my name?” He says, wary but curious about your sudden appearance in–Ohmygod, you’re in Supernatural. “More importantly, how did you get here?” The question brings your attention from fangirling back to the hunter staring down at you.

“Well, Dean,” you say as you slowly sit up. “It’s a long story. But I can tell you that I’m not a demon, not an angel, and not anything else supernatural.” You can’t resist slipping the pun in, though you know he won’t understand it.

He splashes you with holy water. You smile at him. “See? Not a demon. Now, d’you know anywhere a girl can get some nice pie and a drink?”

He nods slowly. “I know a place, yeah.”

“Ok. Er… Where are we?”

“We’re somewhere in South Dakota.”

Your eyes widen, then you chuckle. “You’re going to see Bobby then?”

He nods again. “Do you still want that pie? If you do, come on.” He jumps into–Holy shit, it’s the Impala. As you climb in, you casually remark “Nice car.”

He looks sideways at you. “Thanks. Now, let’s get ourselves some pie.”

* * *

3. Sherlock

You’re in your room, absent-mindedly scrolling through your Tumblr dashboard. You pause to reblog a fic dare post, hoping it’ll happen but doubting it will anyway. You scroll on until you see a post about how Tumblr user Pizza is probably some sort of demon. You reblog that as well.

Your mind goes back to that fic dare post. You’d really love it if someone were to follow up and write a fic about you. It’d be fun to read, you think. “Ah well, it’s never going to really happen anyway,” you say to yourself.

Still, you refresh your dash, hoping for a new message to show up. There is nothing. The anons are absent today. “Bored,” you say, just to hear the sound of your voice. If only you had a gun and a spray-paint smiley face.

You scroll some more. Oh look, it’s a relic of the Mishapocalypse. Maybe I’ll reblog it. Wait… What’s this? All the posts on the dash have suddenly gone black. It’s as if they have been censored. W-what’s happening?

The black expands, turning the familiar blue of the dashboard background black as well. It creeps across your window, growing and growing. It consumes the address bar and the dock. Soon, it has nothing left to eat. Your entire screen has gone black. You tentatively press a key, hoping the computer has simply gone to sleep. You know it hasn’t.

Suddenly, the blackness jumps out, somehow escaping from the screen. It touches your desk, and the desk goes black. You frantically scoot your chair away, watching in horror as the terrible darkness spreads across your walls, across your possessions, turning your entire room black. You risk a glance out the window. Outside, everything has gone dark, even the sky. The stars are going out, you quote. Funny that something that was once in a show is happening in real life.

While you were distracted, the black has crept onto your chair. You jump up, but it is too late. The color spreads quickly across your skin, sharp prickles of pain following in its tracks. As you close your eyes, you vaguely wonder why your dash has color again. You black out.

——————————————————–

You wake up to a loud bang and a man’s voice saying something. You blink your eyes open. Where am I? Your room has been mysteriously replaced by a different room, wallpapered with black and white VIctorian-esque designs.

Wait. This looks familiar. You look to your left. Formal black leather shoes stand there. You follow the black-clad legs up, up, up, until your eyes stop on a very familiar face. “Mycroft?”

The man you know as both Mark Gattiss, murdering writer extraordinaire, and Mycroft Holmes, the British government, raises an eyebrow. He turns and says over his shoulder, “So, this is the girl that ‘magically’ appeared in your flat?”

Someone else steps into your line of sight, someone wearing a certain striped jumper, holding a certain skull in one hand and a certain harpoon in the other.

John Watson, your mind supplies as you gape. But if both Mycroft and John are here, where’s Sherlock?

Then, a low voice shouts from the kitchen, “John, my skull!”

“Just a second, Sherlock!” John shouts back.

A loud, impatient groan emits from the kitchen. You hear quick, heavy footsteps.

Then Sherlock Holmes, wearing the famous and fandom-worshipped ‘purple shirt of sex’, appears. “John, I said–Ah. She’s awake.” John mutters a “Well, yes, Sherlock, I thought that was obvious.” as Sherlock sweeps his eyes over you, deducing and thinking.

“Er… Hi.” you say.

* * *

So… What did you think? *cabbages are thrown at Koko*

I know that all the beginning bits are pretty similar, but that’s what it’s supposed to be like. The same beginning, but you can choose which universe you drop into. I was going to write a few more (like Harry Potter or LOTR) but my hands are tired and I got a new keyboard so all the keys are harder to press down. But I want to know: did you like it? Would you want to read more of the stories? Or would you want to throw cabbages at me.

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Comic-Con International: San Diego 2013 – Cosplay Gallery Roundup

themeepingkoala:

I couldn’t go to Comic Con, as usual. Bah.

Originally posted on coregeek:

Just like last year I didn’t make to San Diego Comic-Con. I did however find a lot of cosplay photos online, so I decided to post a gallery roundup again. Hopefully someday I’ll be posting photos I’ve taken myself.

Also, don’t miss this well written article about Cosplay that was posted at the LA Times: Comic-Con cosplay: Costumed role-players become temporary superstars I’m going to direct my friends and family to this the next time I get the quizzical “Huh!?” when I try to explain cosplay to them.

A big thank you to each and every photographer. All of us stuck at home really appreciate it.

Check back often as I’ll add to the listed as more SDCC 2013 cosplay photos and videos continue to show up on the interwebs.

First off, here’s a couple of fun cosplay videos from Agressive Comics and Sneaky Zebra





Viper Pilot and Cylons by Noelle Paduan Lbc42 Viper Pilot and…

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Don’t throw out that old umbrella, transform it!!

Originally posted on DaniellaJoe's Blog:

Don’t throw out that old umbrella, transform it!!

I wonder if we can go through the city dump and retrieve old umbrellas (figuratively speaking) strip them and crochet a brand new one and sell each one for $1,000.00 – $5,000.00 each, then we could talk about turning trash into cash.

It takes a certain type of crochet artist to make that happen, a desperate one?? no, a visionary crochet artist…

 

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Freebie Friday! The Hidden Pocket Tote

Originally posted on Choly Knight:

Prj034
This one is so simple, but just making it just made me so happy :D For one, it used up a lot of scraps that I had been keeping around for far too long. This seafoam green faux suede in particular – I bought it to test out making some gloves way back in high school! I bought way too much so I’ve been using up the scraps ever since. And now it’s finally gone! The other thing I love is the little hidden pocket feature on the front of the tote – the entire center panel of printed fabric you see is actually one large pocket that’s accessed from a clean little opening on the side. It’s made using a very simple method, but I just love how sharp it looks so it always makes me smile.

And lastly as I was using up my scraps to put the…

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