I dedicate this ficlet to that Garibaldi's love of Daffy Duck, and that poster on his wall that always made me lose it. (Especially when he was trying to flirt with someone.)
Garibaldi gets lucky, and almost ruins it for himself.
a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read
number of favorites/bookmarks you made this year
favorite fanfic author of the year
longest fic you read this year
shortest fic you read this year
favorite fandom to read fic from this year
I ~only~ posted 43 works this year (not counting whatever else gets posted for end of year exchanges, etc), which is at once a lot and not as many as in recent years.
So yeah, have at!
(perhaps I'll post a Real Entry at some point, but for now: hey, I'm around, have a meme.)
This is your check-in post for today. The poll will be open from midnight Universal or Zulu Time (8pm Eastern Time) on Friday to midnight on Saturday (8pm Eastern Time).
I wanted to go into Worcester today to experience the Christmas Fayre for a bit. Unfortunately a signalling problem on the railways meant I had to go by road, which took longer. (The buses were running; they're just slower.) I had a muffin – apple and cinnamon flavour – and two or three coffees during the day. I also popped into Worcester Cathedral for the Shoppers' Carol Service. I'm not religious, but I do enjoy these: four popular carols,¹ a few Bible readings and a prayer or two, all packed into about half an hour. It started raining just as we filed back into the open, so I chose to come home not long afterwards.
¹ O Come All Ye Faithful, Away in a Manger, While Shepherds Watched, O Little Town of Bethlehem.
AO3 link | Her Turn (300 words) by Merfilly Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer [TV] Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Willow Rosenberg & Buffy Summers Characters: Willow Rosenberg, Buffy Summers, Dawn Summers [Buffy & Angel Universe] Additional Tags: Triple Drabble, Post-Canon Summary:
Willow left a letter...
Her Turn
This one, it's not for you. You get that, right? This time, it's about me. It has to be me. You can't… you can't keep reaching. I know you love me. I know you would want to step up, to take my place. You've always been the one making the sacrifice. That's who you are, the One. You changed the game to begin with, and then when that wasn't enough, you changed the whole playing field.
Okay, maybe I had something to do with changing the gameboard up. But I was only able to do it because of you, because you had so much faith in me. I need you to have that faith in me now. I need you to be the stronger one, the one who has to live, to keep facing the evil.
Hopefully it won't be as bad, not once I do this.
All my love.
Dawn wasn't used to seeing her sister frail, not even after all the losses they had faced. She'd guessed, though, that this one might be the breaking point, and hurried to get to Buffy's side. She saw the paper crumpled in a fist, but ignored it, just turning her sister to hold her.
At first, Buffy was stiff. The grief broke to Dawn's coaxing, a howl of pain and denial. Dawn just held on, petting her hair, tears streaming on her own face.
"Maybe… maybe it didn't end her?" Dawn suggested once the crying gave way to the heavy silence.
Buffy pushed the crumpled paper to her sister, letting Dawn read Willow's own words. It made Dawn swallow hard, as the pain and finality gripped her all over again.
She couldn't give into it, though. Buffy needed her. Buffy had lost Willow, and Dawn needed to step up even more.
As you know, Bob, I bought some solar Christmas decorations (they look like colored light bulbs on silver sticks) to put outside. I put them in the backgarden to watch if they worked. Nothing happened and I thought, well, Dollar Tree. What I didn't realize until later, much later, was that there was a small cardboard tab that had to be pulled to activate the solar. When I made that discovery I thought, yes, that makes sense. They have to be activated..
I've put them out front and they're as cute as a bug in a rug. Only it's mostly rain and clouds here so they don't gather much solar and don't last late into the night. But I'm decorated for Christmas. And a couple don't work because I've broken them somehow.
This evening we went to the town lighting of the Christmas tree at the town centre/center. The temperature was around -3C/26F so we all dressed very warmly. I was wearing heavy wool socks, parka, gloves, wool scarf, and warm hat, and had the hood of the parka up as well, and while most of me stayed warm enough, my toes and my nose got very cold, and my gloves weren't quite thick enough and my fingers were cold as well. We were standing around outside for about an hour listening to recorded music as well as to the local middle school brass band playing Christmas songs, and my daughter and I were just wishing they would hurry up and get to the tree lighting part because we were so cold. When they did eventually flip the switch to light the tree it was very dramatic of course. After the tree was lit one of the local fire trucks arrived fully decorated with Christmas lights and carrying Santa Claus. The girls had fun with various school friends but they were happy to come home after an hour. Now I'm at home trying to get the blood flowing to my toes again. The floor in this basement has heating but it seems to run in a fairly narrow band across the middle of the floor, so I have to sit in a particular spot so that my feet are on the warm part. It feels good but my toes are still very cold and still look blue.
I think it’s important to note, when writing a series of essays about “comfort watches,” that not every movie on that list is going to be a comfortable watch. Some of them might even be hard-“R” movies with lots of violence, portraying a decaying civilization where law is rare and order is even more so, and where everyone in the movie is pretty much just hanging on by their fingernails. These movies are not nice! Nevertheless there is something relentlessly rewatchable about them, something that makes you just settle in on the couch for a couple of hours with a smile on your face, maybe because you’re sure glad you don’t live there. For me, Dredd is one of those films. The world of Mega-City One is a terrible place and I hope never to take up permanent residence, but I’m happy to visit. That is, from behind a pane of bulletproof glass.
For those of you not familiar with the 2000 AD comic feature on which the film is based (and have otherwise and correctly blocked the painfully bad 1995 Sylvester Stallone film made from the same source material from your brain): The world is fucked and irradiated and almost all of it is a wasteland, except Mega-City One, with 800 million people stretching across the Acela Corridor of the United States. Most people there live crappy lives in “megablock” apartment complexes that can house 50,000 people, and along with residents, are filled with crime and drugs. Law enforcement is sparse and in the hands of “Judges,” empowered both to stop and punish crime at the same time. Basically, life sucks, and if you do crime, you’re likely to get away with it, but when you don’t, some extremely well-armed dude is going to shoot you in the head about it. Fun!
The titular character, Dredd, is a judge, who never takes off his helmet and rarely speaks more than a sentence at a time. He’s assessing a trainee judge named Anderson, who also happens to be psychic (in the Judge Dredd mythology there is a whole thing about mutants and such, and it’s not really more than waved at here). Dredd and Anderson enter a megablock after a drug-related crime, which for various reasons annoys the local drug lord named Ma-Ma; she locks down the entire megablock and puts a hit out on the judges. From there, things get real messy, real quick.
As noted earlier, this comic book material was made into a movie before, in 1995. It just did not work, not in the least because it was far more of a Sylvester Stallone vehicle than a Judge Dredd movie — here’s Stallone galumphing around without his helmet so you can see his face, complete with overly-blue contacts, here’s Stallone tromping through a bunch of sets that look like sets, not slums, here’s Stallone bellowing Dredd’s catchphrase “IYAMDELAW” with scenery chewing abandon, and being saddled with Rob Schneider as comedy relief because it was the 90s and apparently that was just what was done back in the day. This movie was made by Hollywood Pictures, which at the time was Disney’s off-off-brand, and while the movie was rated “R,” every inch of it gave off a soft PG-13 vibe. This was a movie that yearned for its hero to be made a figurine in a McDonald’s happy meal.
Dredd, which came out in 2012… is not that. From the opening moments, Dredd makes it clear that this future, shot on location in South Africa, is literally trash; everything is run-down, nothing is new, the color scheme is graded heavily into sicky yellows and greens (except for the blood, which is super, super red). This Mega-City One doesn’t feel like a bunch of sets; it’s ugly and tired and feels all-too possible. Dredd himself, played by Karl Urban, is night and day from the Stallone iteration. When he says “I am the law,” it’s not a bellow. It’s a deeply scary intonation of facts. And he never takes off his damn helmet.
It helps that Dredd isn’t trying to do too much. The movie isn’t trying to jam in seven different storylines and five movies’ worth of worldbuilding into a single film. It keeps to a single story, a single day, and, mostly, a single location. After a brief opening voiceover, you learn about the world diagetically. For longtime fans of the Judge Dredd world, there are little easter eggs here and there but nothing that winks at the viewer. For everyone else, you learn just enough of what you need to get through the story, and everything else is atmosphere. The story is economical, partly because it had to be — the film had a budget of no more than $45 million, half of what the 90s version had to work with more than two decades earlier — but also partly because Alex Garland, who wrote the script (and who largely edited the movie after it was shot) was smart enough to realize every thing he wanted and needed to say about this world could be done with one, admittedly extreme, bad day in the life of its protagonist.
And what is there to say about Dredd himself? Largely that Urban plays him not as a star vehicle but as an archetype. Urban’s Judge Dredd could hang out with Clint Eastwood’s Man With No Name quite handily. The two of them wouldn’t say much, but they wouldn’t have to; like understands like. Dredd doesn’t explain himself, has no extended monologues that are a journey into his interior life, and there is no indication that, when he is off the clock, he does anything but stand in a room, silently, waiting for his next shift. In the movie, Dredd isn’t focused on anything other than what’s directly in front of him, and Urban isn’t focused on anything other than getting Dredd to his next scene. Now, you can argue whether Urban’s low and mostly emotionless growl in this film constitutes good acting in a general sense. I don’t think you can argue it isn’t just about perfect for what the character is supposed to be, in the context of the film.
Judge Dredd, the comic book, is known to be a satire of both US and British politics and both nations’ rather shameful but continual flirtation with fascism, but as George S. Kaufman once said, satire is what closes on Saturday night. Even when one acknowledges that satire doesn’t have to be overtly funny, and is often more effective when it is not, there is nothing about Dredd that feels particularly satirical. Garland’s version of Mega-City One doesn’t present as satire or even as a cautionary tale; it just feels like a fact. Shit went bad. This is what’s left.
There is no world in which individuals should be walking around, embodying an entire legal process whole in themselves. “I Am The Law” is the very definition of authoritarianism and in the real world should be actively and passionately fought against. In Dredd’s world, however, this battle has already been fought, and lost. You get the law you get, piecemeal and not enough of it, and if you’re not actively a criminal, you’re happy with what little you get at all.
This is not a world I ever want to live in, and I will be happy to spend the rest of my life fighting against anything like it. But as a spectator, it’s fascinating, and in Dredd, it feels close enough to real to pack a punch. Everything in Dredd is some flavor of bad; everyone in Dredd is some level of desperate. No one is happy and everyone is looking for an escape of some sort. In this context, Judge Dredd is a strange and compelling constant. He’s not happy or sad, or fearful or mad. He is, simply, the law. That’s all he is. That’s all he needs to be.
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All the fail_fandomanon Rules and Information (and Ban Requests): https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/1076.html. The short version: no embeds, don't out people's real names, don't be that much of an asshole, body fluids are off topic, Mods reserve the right to freeze, screen, and delete the fuck out of stuff. FFA discussion covers a wide variety of topics and has a very flexible view of 'fandom' that includes politics, current events, and cooking techniques. FFA is a Choose NOT to Warn experience. Meme away.
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So, today was my day off and I watched the first three episodes of the Heated Rivalry tv series just because I've seen some gifs around Tumblr. I read the whole Game Changers series years ago, I'm a big m/m romance reader, unsurprisingly, and I enjoy a good sports romance tremendously. I am Italian, I know nothing about hockey and this has not prevented from enjoying the hell out of a fair bit of m/m hockey romance and fanfic.
Wild Ice by makeit_takeit. 46K words. Men's Hockey RPF, Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick. As with all hockey RPF, I have no idea what these two guys look like or even what team they played for, but it's all irrelevant. This is an AU where one of the two is himself, I guess, retired after hockey, while the other is not a hockey player. This is just such a gorgeous love story, with, complex layered characterisation and the natural beauty of Canadian winter landscape as its backdrop. It's a sort of grump/sunshine pairing, I guess. The tags give you a good idea of what to expect.
Front Runner by makeit_takeit. 60K words. Men's Hockey RPF, Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin. This is another AU, a high school one, where the characters play football in Texas. Picture Friday Night lights only gayer? :D This is another great story. Again, I know nothing about American football, but I'm a sucker for coming-of-age story mixed in with romance. And this has such a strong sense of place, which makes it all the better. Not that I know the first thing about Texas high school football culture, but I am a big fan of Friday Night Lights, trust me when I say I didn't throw the comparison lightly.
and i spit out the seed by linearity. Heated Rivalry AU, of the canon divergence kind. Basically Ilya and Shane get outed much earlier than in canon. Amazing characterisation and dialogue.
The Pitt
Since we're talking sports romance, I cannot help but reccing the best sports AU in this fandom: Love Game by homespun. Mel/Frank, ofc, still a WIP but it's going to be complete soon, in, like, a 4 days? And I can already tell this is going to be an all-time favourite. Ah, it's a tennis pro AU. And it's P-E-R-F-E-C-T.
On this Bandcamp Friday, I have purchased the entirety of Dessa's discography; made a loaf of bread for potluck Shabbat services tonight; gone to the makerspace to continue sanding the drawer divider pieces I made with the laser cutter earlier this week; picked up my CSA box; nearly froze to death waiting for the bus home.
So, I've been stuck at home for 3 weeks now with a broken ankle. I've watched so much TV. SO. MUCH. TV. Some of it utterly delightful ("The Summer I Turned Pretty", "Queen of the South"), some of it utterly forgettable. Then "Heated Rivalry" came out, and due to the tragic circumstances of being stuck at home, I've watched the first 2 episodes. Let us acknowledge this up front: I should have only watched this show after it finished airing. Like, week-to-week is a very bad format for me with this show.
However, episodes have been consumed, this show is already doing numbers in fannish circles for obvious reasons, my guess is that that trend will continue, and so I need to get stuff off my chest I guess. Think of this not as a public statement but more as a private space where I process stuff, just for the sake of framing the below.
One of the many things I am planning to do this weekend, and we'll see what percentage of these things get accomplished, but playing Metroid in the dark sounds real, real good. I'm up to my ass in some kind of discourse about it, there's a talky guy who is or isn't a big deal depending on who you talk to, or… it's ugly? It looks like a PS3 game? That's just what I read. When you become a connoisseur like me, a man of taste and culture installed in the hierarchy of elite sense-making institutions, you start fetishizing a nice HDR implementation over raw triangles. I can't expect you to understand, face down in that ditch, playing Fuck, Marry, Kill but the choice matrix consists of three different rats.
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Home all day, still busy, but definitely an improvement! I only got an alibi sentence, though. I'm at a scene transition and not quite sure what comes next.
Bonus farm news: We have excess pumpkin. Things made so far: soup, grilled in the oven, fried patties, sweet pie, savory pie, grilled in the oven with different spices, gnocchi, and wine.
I was feeding the cats their wet food this morning, and paused for a second, and remembered to split it into three. I've recently lost two older cats, one unexpectedly, the other after a lingering illness. I've gone from having four for many years, to briefly five, and then back to four and now to three.
Loss makes me think of Data's quote: "As I experience certain sensory input patterns, my mental pathways become accustomed to them. The input is eventually anticipated and even 'missed' when absent."
I remember watching that episode and thinking it was an interesting way to justify an android having emotions, but I have reflected back on it often over the years when dealing with grief, and how much routines can increase loss.
My mom was the worst, because I was very close to her and we often did things together. She was gone and I missed her but also so many... we both watched these shows and discussed them the next day, who do I talk about them with? Do I go clothes shopping by myself or can I find a friend who will be as encouraging as she was?
Maybe that sounds heartlessly practical or self-absorbed? This person is gone and how does it impact my life? But I've lost people like my paternal grandparents where I was very sad but also, they lived three hours away, our getting together was semi-regular but also sporadic. It wasn't tied to any particular activity except Thanksgiving, and then we continued going down to see other relatives in that city. For me, it's a different type of grief when it's not tied to routines. It's just this general sadness rather than coming up to event and knowing you have to do it alone. Or find a replacement.
I guess my situation is sorta the reverse of Data's, he found routines built emotions, while I'm dealing with absence requiring new routines to be built. But still, I find that quote to be poignantly relevant. Data was a wise man.
My nephew has already found a new kitty for me, but he still has a month to be weaned. So we'll see. Maybe I'll go back to fourths on the wet food in January.