Antennapedia

In which I post twice in one day,

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 01:22:50 GMT

1. Am answering my shameful comment backlog. Aside from fic feedback, which must always be answered, is it okay for me to declare an amnesty for comments that are three weeks old? Man, I totally went out to lunch around here in May.
2. At this rate, I'm going to be catching up with summer_of_giles after it's all over.
3. I feel no real urgency to see the newest Harry Potter movie, which means it'll be the first one that I won't see within 24 hours of its opening. I was thinking about why, and I suspect it has to do with the publication of the end of the story. Some tension and drive is lost by knowing the resolution of everything. Maybe.
4. Revision for the Remix will stop tomorrow, after which I will plunge into writing oodles of fresh prose for my Summer of Giles story. Which has been decided upon, note careful use of passive voice.
5. The plan is for me to hop into my car and head east for WriterCon the minute after I post SoG on Monday, July 27. But that might be too late. I might have to post while on the road. I need to start route-planning now.

What's up with you?

In which I reveal my inner road nerd.

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 17:26:12 GMT

10 hours of driving yesterday, home from Las Vegas. I spent very little time on superslab in this variation of my route. And most notably, I got from the San Joaquin Valley over the coastal range on California route 198, which was a little gem of a road. 50 miles of excellent pavement, twisties tight enough to discourage trucking, and swooping elevation changes. A perfect road for motorcyclists and sport drivers alike. And as trivia for those of you who remember this story, Giles & Buffy drive along the other half of this road in "Reconnection" on their way to Sequoia National Park. The story also makes an oblique reference to Coalinga, my favorite California place name.

On the other end of the road spectrum, there's Route 395. The southernmost segment of it is a straight line in the desert, perfect visibility. I was passed by somebody on that stretch going at an unreal speed. And I was not exactly a slowpoke. The Mojave is such a strange place. Dust, sand, rock, surreal patches of Joshua trees, always a few cars on the road moving through and never stopping.

Home now, where the cats are pretending indifference and the dogs don't appear to have noticed my absence. Mr Pedia was welcoming, at least.

My copy of the Anna.K Tarot arrived while I was away. Today's agenda: fiddle with this new deck, do laundry, revise Remix story, work out, go bouldering at the climbing gym with friends, collapse.

In which I am all covered in undeserved virtue and stuff.

Sun, 12 Jul 2009 23:41:10 GMT

Remix posted this morning, with hours and hours and hours to spare. I'll revise and polish in the next few days, but if I keel over dead today it'll be okay. Have acquitted myself reasonably. I hope. Eek.

The convention I'm at this weekend is in its final hours. I'll go to a panel on rebooted fandoms later on, then probably hole up and resume work on my summer_of_giles story.

.. And I have done the first of those things, and now I am back in my hotel room, which is highly refrigerated and therefore pleasant, and I am contemplating being productive somehow. Or maybe napping. I could nap. Napping's a valid lifestyle choice.

IT'S ALIVE!

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 21:10:14 GMT

I have no Gene Wilder Young Frankenstein icon to go with this post.

"[Mumble mutter] (The Run That Title Into The Ground Remix)" is now nearly at 2000 words and I think I finally found a heart for it. Not in the first place I looked, or the second, but the third. I wrote a joking remix title for it and realized that whoops, I'd just figured it out. It's sort of a pity that I am having to absent myself from the con at the moment to make this happen, but this is the price I pay now for procrastination earlier.

Fidget story has been the Montana one, specifically the Giles/Xander bits thereof. Which are interesting to write when one is firmly in Buffy's point of view. I am pondering a shift for the two sections that are mostly notes to self, fragments of outline, and scattered bits of prose. Because it would fit for other reason. Hmm. Okay. Going to have to do it.

Not very random: I have just learned that there are some people in this world who haven't seen the Buffy vs Edward vid, so I share a link that has the vid and some context for it.

In which there is geeky television, some writing progress, and some unrelated squee.

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 06:34:57 GMT

Today was all about the Star Trek indulgence with sahiya, who wanted an introduction to the original series canon. We watched "The Naked Time" and "The Corbomite Maneuver", two first season classics. Now we're watching Merlin, and is increasingly evident that Uther is right to kill every single magic user he encounters. They're all amazingly evil and piling up a huge bodycount. Uther and Morgana are so married, oh my god, she sits on a throne next to him and he keeps asking her advice. Sans ASH I don't think I'd be giving the series a re-watch, although I do admit the Merlin-Arthur interaction is satisfyingly snarky.

Also, Arfur is a prat.

We started out with a couple of hours in a cafe, where I discovered that my approach to the remix wasn't quite right, but I did find one that was. I have the shape of it in my head now. I might live to fail to plan again.

Random geekery: Prowl is the bomb. Growl notifications pushed to your iPhone!

Tonight's BPAL: St John's Eve. A summer bonfire, with frankincense and myrrh, bay rum, and white rose. Wow, wow, wow. Smoky incense. It smells just like the bowl of fine sand that kivrin gave me smells after I've burned sticky resinous incense and charcoal in it.

In which our hero learns that procrastination is not always a good idea. Ever.

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 04:58:32 GMT

Fic archive updated and fiddled with some more. I decided finally to include all header info except author's notes in a block at the top. I think this satisfies the need to let readers know what they're into. This one is an example of the most information anything ever has: entry in a series, banner, pairing, tags, warning. What do you think, oh readers?

I really wish the backstory for "Liberation" were already written, but I suspect I will enjoy the adventure of writing it anyway. Though it will take me a while.

Changed LJ layout to something useless as incentive to fix it. Note to self: need to make banner image 940 by 260 pixels.

Read some surprising things today while researching something mumble mumble. Was also surprised to learn that microbes are a problem in diesel fuel, and that the first fuel used by Diesel in his new engine was coal dust.

I think I settled on a story to remix. There were lots of possibilities, but this one asks me to tell a story I've wanted to tell for a while. Mostly I have an urge to leave feedback on every single one of my remix assignee's excellent stories. But I will refrain until after the reveal.

So. Okay. I'm only slightly screwed. For "slightly", read "extremely". And not in the good way. The story is due for posting while I'm in Vegas and I have yet to write a single word of it. I'm losing tomorrow as a writing day, Thursday is toast because I'm driving all day, and then there's the con. That means I write it Tuesday and Wednesday or else, and there's no way I write & revise that fast. Oh, god, why didn't I bail on the Sweet Charity deadline sooner?

On the plus side, I have an approach. And a title. And a file checked into my svn repository. And a bottle of Knob Creek bourbon and a shot glass to pour it into.

July 12: Remix due.
July 27: Summer of Giles due.
overdue: Giles/Buffy Sweet Charity fic.

I think I settled on a story for Summer of Giles as well, one out of my big pile of half-finished projects. Maybe I won't eff that one up. Sigh. I have more free time than I did. Why is this happening?

Yesterday was better. I will tell you why.

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 17:58:15 GMT

1. Writing got accomplished, though the story did not reach completion.
2. I worked out and sweat dripped from my nose and all was right with the world.
3. "What Friends Are For (Flow My Tears Remix)" was nominated at the White Knight Awards. And I see that other Xander writers on my flist were as well!
4. This is inspirational as I stare in the usual prescribed horror at my unstarted remix for this year.

Also, I napped for two hours in the middle of the day. That was weird and it made me groggy for a while afterwards. I find that my best nap is a 30-minute nap. Any more and I'm zonked.

Today's plan: turn on the AC in my office; write a bit now that deadline pressure is off due to my having blown through it like a fast thing moving through a fragile thing; torment the cats by applying anti-flea goo; work out in the morning; go to climbing class in the evening. My life, it is full. For sufficiently small definitions of...

At least it's cooler today.

Tue, 30 Jun 2009 00:12:22 GMT

Screwed up time of gym appointment with the trainer today. Bleah. Am un-worked-out and therefore restless. Well, okay, I can reschedule.

Rescheduled with him for tomorrow morning... right smack dab in conflict with breakfast with friends. Gah. Well, okay, I'll be late to that.

I am, at this point, congratulating myself for having written about 500 words today. Which is pathetic, but since it's all I've managed I'm attempting to find the positive and be all rah-rah. The procrastination techniques are getting more and more desperate. Soon I might find myself answering my comment backlog. Noes! Well, okay, I'll just keep slogging.

What chaos can I wreak next?

Stephen Fry was on Top Gear last night, as the star in the reasonably-priced car. I am eager to watch this one. Mr Pedia is a huge fan of TG (though I suspect he'd get into a fistfight with Clarkson approximately 5 minutes after meeting him in real life) and has insatiable appetite for it. To the point where our mutual first-time watch of BSG has been interrupted in the middle of season 1. He'd always rather watch Top Gear instead.

I will confess that Top Gear is much, much funnier than BSG. Which is probably why I'll enjoy BSG then never go fannish about it: I need the snark.

ETA: Only James was on the right track for girl-attracting mods. Sheesh.

Seduced, shaggy Samson snored.

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 21:54:30 GMT

I am going to be in a world of hurt with deadlines if my writing brain doesn't start working soon. Writing is agonizing just now. So is fic commentary-ing, because the story I'm doing reminds me of a true low point in my writing last summer. Waaaaaaaaaaah. Cough. Okay. I'm slogging through this story. The deadline is now looming over me, so I'd better find a way to make it happen. Even though it's a million zillion degrees around here today.

I need semi-random inputs into the creative process. Here's the tarot card I just drew:

The Moon
Fantasy: Visions & dreams & unconscious knowledge. Water, night, inaction.

Huh. Now what am I going to do with that in this story?

Procrastination central: I updated my fic archive with a minor information redesign to move the tag list to the top of every story page. I also reviewed my tagging.

I'm really quite pleased with the tools I wrote to manage the archive-- updating every single story page is trivial, just a change to the template file, re-run the script, and all done! I like the basic approach of keeping the content in a database for convenience, but using that db only to generate static html files. This makes sense for sites where page serves are far more frequent than content updates.

I really should write the web app portion of the project to make content editing more slick. I just can't find a Python web app framework I like enough to commit to. Two problems: the ORMs just don't have the sweet simplicity of Ruby ones like DataMapper, and templating in Python is always an utter drag because you must invent Yet Another Programming Language to do it. My templates are an unholy mix of html, css, javascript, and Mako pseudo-python. Remind me to rant in my real-life blog some time soon about how I've emerged out the other side of the significant whitespace argument over Python. I'm now convinced it's a significant drawback. Sigh. I love the language.

No climbing this weekend, but I'm meeting one of my classmates at the climbing gym tomorrow evening. I've been doing some grip-improving exercises on my pull-up bar. Forearm muscles, baby, I've got 'em. Mr P is off learning to fabricate things with carbon fiber. That plus the rail gun project in the garage fills me with fear that we'll soon have an army of killer robots in the back yard. Under his control, which is extra-scary.

Time for the afternoon coffee break first!

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 23:18:27 GMT

Fandom is giving me Teh Rage(tm) today, so I've decided to go to my happy place. That is, the writing place. Which from the outside looks like me glaring at my Macbook with breaks to gnaw on the side of my finger and wail. Really, trust me, that's happiness.

Time to write fic commentary. And a novel outline. Oh, lord, why is it so hard to transition from the dreaming-it-through mode to the solidifying-it-in-words mode?

This is all procrastination from writing, you realize. Somebody should kick me.

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 22:25:29 GMT

I was thinking (a dangerous yet fortunately rare occurrence) about the recent fandom go-round about warnings, which is iteration #392 in what is likely an endless culture clash. If you want to catch up on the thrash, check out metafandom's warnings tag. In this post I share the evolution of my own thinking about warnings, and a decision I've taken because of this most recent discussion.

I hated warnings on fic at first. I didn't want them as a reader, and as a writer I didn't want to tip my hand to my readers. I didn't even want to state pairings for some stories, because, well, what if I wanted the events to be surprising? This was my first clue that I was being a bit silly, because I'm as pairing-focused as anybody when choosing which fic to read. I'd probably be grumpy if a fic I thought was headed in the direction of OTP Bert/Ernie suffered a sudden twist and ended up as disliked Big Bird/Ernie. Then I realized that in addition, I didn't particularly want to read Bert and Ernie performing certain kinds of sexual acts. Not only did I want the pairing indicator, I also learned to appreciate warnings.

Later, while contemplating a warning for hurt/comfort on a story, I had a minor insight that most of you have no doubt shared. "Warning" is the wrong word, most of the time, for what is a story content label. Was that a warning for h/c? Only if you hate h/c. Otherwise, it's a happy indication of desirable content.

Story headers aren't about spoiling the content; they're about reader strategies.

"Do I want to read this story?" we ask. The header, if it's doing its job, answers the question. What's the fandom? Who wrote it? Which characters are featured? What's the general tone: fluffy, gritty, action-laden, angsty, unremittingly dark, with major character death? If it depicts sex, how explicitly and what sort of sex?

Once I understood that, I was reconciled with the fandom habit of warnings. In fact, I try to think of the content labels as "tags" instead of "warnings". A value-neutral term fits their use within fandom better. The oft-given example is of kink fic, where the tag "bdsm" would be a warning for some readers and an advertisement for others. It's a content descriptor. Content descriptors help the reader find stories that are interesting, and avoid stories that aren't.

What's my function as a fan writer? What am I here to do? My function here is to be an entertainer, and making it easy to match up readers with fic they'd like can only help me do that. My deathless prose can stand up under the burden of being tagged and categorized. And if I'm clever, I can assign the labels without compromising the emotional impact I want the stories to have on my readers. You can find the stories you crave; I can find the readers I crave. Everybody wins.

Let's return to the current thrash about warnings for trigger issues. Trigger issues, as several brave posters have made clear, are not the same as fic preferences. I can choose casually between this hurt/comfort flu fic and that angsty mpreg epic. Somebody with a trigger issue might need to know that the mpreg angst comes from an incident of sexual violence, and need to know with an urgency that I can't really imagine. I can read the first page of each story and bail if I'm not in the mood for it. The person who's triggered doesn't have the luxury of choice. By the time they realize the fic contains something problematic, it's too late.

I think of myself as the sort of writer whose stories don't really "need" warnings, because I don't go into the sort of gritty territory that lots of other writers do. I am not likely to write what fandom whitewashes as "non-con" as entertainment. Aren't labels enough? Well, possibly, if I remember that sometimes, a content label really is a warning and not just a tag. If, say, I were to write about the aftermath of the violence that occurs in my fandom's canon (say, "Becoming" part 2), then guess what! I'm right in that triggery territory.

I think the peanut allergy analogy works well here, though I realize it was originally proposed by a writer hostile to the idea of warnings. Here's the connection it makes clear to me: There are people walking around with a condition that might cause them grave distress. Their situation is invisible to other people and, sadly, many people don't take it entirely seriously. But they'll have an anaphylactic reaction if they eat something containing peanuts. The burden of self-protection ultimately rests on the person with the allergy, but that burden can be lightened with some considerate behavior from the people around them.

I, as a writer, wish to have a positive, happy, mutually beneficial, and all-round satisfying relationship with my readers. I like you, oh reader, and I want you to have fun. I want you to trust me to take you on an emotional ride. If my story make you cry, or feel tense, or get angry, it'll be because that was the emotional experience you wanted when you started reading. You'll be able to avoid stories that might give you an emotional experience that neither one of us wants you to have. Everybody wins.

Okay. Now that I understand triggers a little bit, I know to put warnings on fic that needs warnings. Warn for what? I keep in mind that most of the trigger-causing scenarios are going to involve the word "assault". Sexual violence, physical violence, direct depictions of abuse, direct discussion of suicide or other self-harm. Warn for those, and I'm 90% of the way there.

The problem is that I, as a fic writer, cannot possibly predict everything that might trigger someone. Does this mean I give up on warnings? No. It just means that both writers and readers need to know the system isn't perfect.

If you as a reader have a surprising or strong triggering issue, I suggest to you that it's wise to behave as if every fic might contain peanuts. If you trust the labels-- because of experience with the writer, perhaps-- then read with confidence. If the labels are absent or untrustworthy, find a strategy for discovering the content. A trusted friend who can read in advance for you, perhaps. Or ask the writer.

From my end as a writer, I will attempt to be considerate and tag my stories with content labels that cover what I know to be the major pain points. My goal is to be a trustworthy labeler. I will change my current habits to add "warnings: none" to fics that don't need warnings, to set expectations properly. When in doubt, ask me. I promise to answer honestly and sans snark. If I discover that a regular reader wants to know about something specific in advance, I'm happy to warn for that consistently.

One strategy I've seen that I respect is a note on every story posted that the writer only warns for two things, followed by a warning or a note that no warning is needed for that specific story. The reader then knows what's covered, what's not, and expectations are set and met by both sides. This goes a long way toward solving the problem, because I think unhappiness lies where the expectation mismatches are. Whatever strategy you choose, if you focus on setting reader expectations properly you're likely to avoid hurting people by accident.

Temptations

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 16:28:02 GMT

Tempting me right now: The Multifandom Polyamory Big Bang Challenge. cliche_bingo.

The Poly Big Bang is not an earth-shattering kaboom: only 10,000 words. The Buffy/Giles/Xander story I'm writing now is already near that, and it's far from first-draft status. (I'm guessing 15K when done.) I'll probably decline to commit to finish the fic, though. Even September 20 as a draft date feels too close. But hey! You could sign up!

We're all probably too late for Cliche Bingo, though. They're closing signups at 400 participants. I suspect they don't have an automated way of generating bingo cards, though even with that, managing that many participants would be a big job. One thing I'm not tempted to do again is run any more ficathons. I'm not any good at it, and I'd much rather be writing quietly in a corner.

I have yet to climb an actual rock, but I still think rock climbing is my new sport.

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 21:17:04 GMT

I've been mostly AFK over the weekend, doing stuff with the spousal unit. Last week was devoted to working out and napping by turns; I was also mostly not looking at the Intertubes. Today vacation ends, and regular Antenna service resumes, with this new twist of no official employment. In other words, I buckle down and get back to work on my own projects instead of somebody else's. Whee!

Some of those projects are fanfictional, which is why I mention it here. I have so many stories to tell buzzing around in my head right now.

But let's get things rolling with a DVD commentary! Whaddya want commentated, thus definitively expressing your doubt for this doctrine about the death of the author? My dvd commentary tag has the stories I've already done commentary for. My fic archive has a definitive list of the candidates.

A single pullup is probably another year away, though.

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 08:03:28 GMT

I had my first climbing class tonight and wow. Just wow. I've never done it before tonight, and I have to say, it's one of the most fun things I've ever done. Right up there with riding a motorcycle around a track. Only that's actually dangerous, and this merely felt dangerous. It's a workout in many ways: mentally engaging, physically interesting, and different from anything else I've done before. I was initially worried that my fear of heights would make this too scary to do, but instead the fear was just spice to the physical challenge.

Stokage. I have a membership in the climbing gym for the month the class will run, so I'll be hopping in tomorrow or sometime soon to take my belaying test and clamber around a wall some more.

Hooray for a year of fitness work that makes this fun possible!

Top Gear: The Daily Mail interviews James May. I have friends who are like that. Heh.

I seem to have lost track of the last three days

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 06:17:44 GMT

Happy belated birthday to khaoschilde! The next year is going to be fascinating for you! May it be calm and happy as well as fascinating.

Today I frivoled with sahiya: we drove down to Monterey and slouched around the aquarium for a while, looking at sea horses and ottarz (tm). The sea horse tanks were full of amazing animals with no useful information displayed along with them. We had to look up the leafy sea dragon ourselves to find that it lives in waters off the south and west coasts of Australia. The exhibit placard space was entirely devoted to vague eco-preaching about conservation without bothering to tell us where we might wish to sponsor such conservation to preserve these animals. For pete's sake, tell us what the things eat, where they live, what they're related to, what temperature water they like, what else lives near them. Useless curation, I say.

Agenda for the rest of my week:
- Finish Sweet Charity post-Becoming Giles/Buffy.
- Read entire fic archive of my remix ~~victim~~ assignment.
- Settle on a summer_of_giles project.
- Catch up on email & comments.
- Sleep late on the mornings when the cats allow me to.
- Work out.
- Remember to go to first indoor climbing class session.
- Remember not to drive into my office by accident.

Random 1: Philip K. Dick on How to Build a Universe that Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later.
Random 2: Brian Eno on the benefits of closing down choice when making art.

Okay, now to find out how far back I need to skip to catch up with the flist.

Dear remixer

Sun, 14 Jun 2009 02:37:39 GMT

Whee! Remix assignments have gone out, and it's traditional to write letters to the victim who's been assigned to remix one, so here's mine.

Hello, remixer!

My fic archive is neurotically well-organized, thanks to the magic of software. I hope you'll be able to find something that sparks your interest in the huge pile. I also hope you like Giles. If you don't, then at least I offer some other options these days. There's not a lot off-limits: I've written 2 remixes and had 2 stories remixed in return. There are also more stories than I'd like in the incomplete in-progress pile.

The only advice I'll offer is the advice I gave last year: be daring. Make the story yours. Don't be afraid to go to a surprising place with it. I'm looking forward to reading it!

I witter, therefore I am.

Tue, 09 Jun 2009 02:11:04 GMT

As of Saturday, I've been doing giles_watchers for three years. That's how long I've been active in fandom. All of you who've been in it for a decade or more may now shake your umbrellas at me.

I spent the weekend mostly on non-writing projects, of the sort that need to get done. Like laundry. And leveling my druid to 80, which happened on Sunday. Yay me. I signed up for a rock climbing class at a local climbing gym, which is something I've always wanted to do. Starts next week. The climbing gym also does Crossfit, so I might join it and start working out there to supplement the personal training. I <3 Crossfit. As I'm sure I've let you all know most tediously. Working out has been so important to my life recently, though. It's amazing stuff: fun, transformative, empowering in all kinds of ways. And I feel so good that I just want to evangelize it to everybody.

And now the optional fic wittering section of today's post.

I have been writing in fits and starts, often in things that I'm not sure will ever see the light of day. I have so much writing sitting unfinished in my fic repository, so much stuff that I'm not sure is good enough. Lots of fragments of scenes, ideas. Time has been a problem for me recently, though I should have oodles of time for writing very soon.

Front-burner projects: two different Giles/Buffy short stories, the epically long Giles/Ethan rescuing Buffy from hell story, Blackmail, Giles/Buffy/Xander in Montana. Back burner: Uther-centric ficlets in response to your prompts, the morally reprehensible Giles/Xander story, pre-series post-Eyghon Giles & his dad. The post-Becoming Giles/Buffy will get posted later this month.

I have no idea which of the others will turn out to be my Summer of Giles story. I'll need to get cranking soon, though. My date is at the end of July, but I am ungodly slow at revision these days. Possibly the Montana story? It's the one I most understand the undercurrents of. If that makes any sense. I always need to be playing some kind of game as I write, doing something in addition to telling the straightforward story. Sometimes it's the game of choosing Greek-root words instead of Latin-root words when possible ("Thusia", obviously), sometimes it's a game like echoing alchemical tranformation in character movement ("Gas-Ring Alchemy", also obviously), and sometimes it's more buried than that. But always I need to be doing two or preferably three things at once in a story. It's like cheating in some ways, because it helps me make choices.

So for the Montana story, I understand my surface plot, my game, what it's about in the squishy sense, and the underlying character arcs that drive it. This makes writing it merely the usual exercise in grinding work. A cheerful thought!

I dunno. What do you guys hanker most to read?

Random: Cataloging system wank. My hometown library uses the Library of Congress system, and I'm afraid I always thought of the Dewey Decimal system as being a bit down-market. Bracing for impact...

Fangy Bannerage

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 06:03:37 GMT

Aw, hey! The Fang Fetish Awards round 10 has bestowed some shiny awards on a couple of my stories. Congrats to flistians ubiquirk, psychoadept, herself_nyc, soft_princess, and mireille719 as well!

Also: Remix/Redux 7 signups open! I'm just announcing in advance that if I get assigned to nwhepcat a third time I'm going to ask for a mulligan. Heh.

Bullet items from the harried

Sat, 30 May 2009 04:50:42 GMT

• Life is hectic & unusual.
• I am behind on everything. 125 unanswered messages in my LJ inbox. Could I really be that many comments behind?
• ODD is back and I have snagged a backup.
• I have been reading a great deal of kirk_mccoy fic.
• Also, I have been writing post-Becoming angsty Giles/Buffy for the Sweet Charity auction winner.
• No one is writing me deeply emotional, weirdly intellectual Giles/Buffy. I'm going to have to write it myself, aren't I.
• How about wildly snarky Giles/Spike?
• I'm doing a 5K aerobic-related event/activity with nemaihne tomorrow. I cannot possibly call it "race", not at my expected pace.
• Since my legs hurt from 100 lunges and 50 16kg thrusters earlier today, among other torments, it'll be interesting.
• Mmm, strawberries and cream.

Sites I've made archival copies of in the last 24 hours

Thu, 28 May 2009 16:03:20 GMT

Fic archives I have freshly backed up:
Giles Writers' Zone
Riposte
Bodice Ripper
the LIST (BG)

On my list to do later today:
[ list completed; next step is by-hand spot-checking the mirrors ]

Archives I'm too late to save:
HeadQuarters

I'll snag Of Demons & Destiny when it reappears, which it should do soon. I already have the BuffyGiles archive content in zip form, and a mandate to reformat it all. (Which I will do one of these years, really.) It's preferable to get site source from admins directly, and not have to spider pages generated by software. But that's better than nothing.

What should I add to my list?

I'm doing nothing more complicated than running wget -m -p -k -np, which is something you can easily do yourselves if you want to join me in paranoia. I find the work done by West Wing Fanfiction Central inspirational here. I've maintained a stable presence on the web since 1994, so I think I can do a reasonable job of giving abandoned archives a new home. Absent a tragic steamroller accident, that is. There's also the looming threat of zombie attack. But we are all vulnerable to such tragedies.

FIC: Steel (Giles/Buffy, FRAO)

Tue, 26 May 2009 03:35:10 GMT

Title: Liegeman 5/7: Steel
Pairing: Giles/Buffy
Summary: Giles and Buffy go out to dinner, with Giles's requests fulfilled.
Rating: FRAO
Warnings: Mild kink, sexual situations.
Word count: 3700
Prompt: 5. Ring
Notes: All Blackmail stories, in order. Continued from "Desires".

The knock came at Buffy's dorm door exactly on time, with the campus clock still chiming the hour. Buffy called out that it was open, and snapped her compact closed. Too late to fuss with it any more.

Giles stepped inside her door silently and closed it. He stood with his back against the door, hands in his trouser pockets, head ducked. He was smiling faintly. He looked marvelous in his dark jacket and striped tie-- Buffy had almost forgotten what he looked like dressed like that, he'd been wearing the sloppy sweaters so often. Buffy herself had gone for casually dressy, not formally dressy. A night out in LA, not New York, light on the jewelry, heavy on the natural.

"You look lovely," Giles said. He cleared his throat. His eyes were on her body, moving from her discreet cleavage down to her high heels. "Is, er, Willow, er?" Giles trailed off.

"She's out. Date, I think, not studying. She put on makeup before she left."

Giles flashed his teeth in a broad smile. "Oh, good for her."

He stepped toward her. Buffy met him halfway. She wrapped her fist around his tie, just below the knot. "Have you been obedient?"

"Yes."

Buffy could see from his face that he had been. He was smiling and he looked eager, proud of himself. She tugged hard on the tie and pulled him down so she could kiss him. When he tried to take control of the kiss she pushed him back playfully, but hard enough that he staggered backward. He was still smiling.

"Did you bring your toys?"

"Indeed."

He reached into his jacket pocket and took out three item, which he laid on her desk: a thick rounded metal ring, a plug about the size of her palm, and a tiny bottle of lubricant. Then he put his hands behind his back and bent his head to her. His ears were red, as if he were embarrassed by his toys, or maybe it was just that he was excited. Buffy was feeling that way herself. She'd been waiting all week for this.

Time to peek at her own toy.

She undid his belt and unzipped his pants. Giles widened his stance slightly, but held himself still otherwise. Buffy pushed his trousers all the way down to his ankles. He was wearing stretch boxers in black. She wondered if she should tell him to go without underwear next time. She pushed the boxers down all the way to his ankles as well, then stood up. His legs were pale to the knees, then faintly tanned below, from jogging. He didn't have Riley's sculpted quads or glutes. He did have other virtues. The brains. The swordsmanship. The submission, expressed now in that head, bent to her, and in those wrists, held crossed behind his back. But he was looking up through his lashes, watching her. Waiting, still with a faint smile.

Buffy picked up the cock ring and turned it over in her hands. It was plain polished steel, surprisingly heavy. Giles had mentioned the weight as something he enjoyed. Buffy slipped it over his balls, then tucked his soft penis through, gave it a tug to settle it in place. Giles breathed out when she did that. His eyes were closed, and his face was rapt. He was hardening already, though she wasn't touching him. Buffy watched his penis thicken and rise, and felt herself open a little in response. She might stay as excited as he was all night, just from knowing he was that aroused.

"Bend over the back of my chair, please."

Giles shuffled around awkwardly with his pants around his ankles. He bent and grasped the back of her chair as instructed.

Buffy opened the bottle of lubricant and squeezed out a big blob onto her fingers. She touched him lightly with her slippery fingers. He shivered. Ethan, he'd told her, had been the first person to take him there. Buffy had a flash of jealousy, which surprised her. It had been so long ago, and she couldn't ever have been the first to own him. But she would be the one to own him most completely, she told herself. And on that thought, she pushed her middle finger inside him, all the way up to the knuckle. He breathed in and went tense, and she felt him move around her. Strange feeling, being inside somebody. Soft and warm. What did it feel like to have a penis and have it inside somebody else? She'd never know. That was okay; Buffy liked what she did have. Her Slayer's body, her breasts, her vagina. She had a butt too. Would she like having someone touch her the way she was touching Giles now? She hadn't thought about that before, but she thought about it now, as she pushed two fingers inside him and listened to him gasp. Giles really liked this. He wanted more, he'd said. Wanted to be fucked. By her? Nobody else was going to. He belonged to her now.

Buffy withdrew herself from him and picked up the plug. This was also heavier than she'd expected, though it wasn't large. Like the cock ring, then, all about the sensation of weight. She teased him with it and was gratified to hear his breathing speed up. She slid it into him until it was at its widest point. He made another one of those soft sounds of pleasure and pushed back against her a little bit. She let the plug slide all the way in and settled the base snug against his butt. His glutes flexed, and then Giles let out a long sigh.

Buffy washed her hands in the dorm sink. Giles remained in place without needing to be told. He was breathing hard, eyes closed. She laid a hand on his rump and he flinched. Braced for something to happen, then. Buffy grinned, behind him where he couldn't see it. His penis was fully erect now. She liked Giles's penis. She liked that it was uncircumcised. It was a good size, not ridiculously big, but wide enough to feel good when he was inside her, long enough that going down deep on him took skill. Buffy grinned to herself, thinking about how that had felt, how he'd moaned. How he would moan later on when she did that for him again, as a reward. But it was so tempting right now, hanging down like that, with his balls held away from his body by the steel ring. So delicate, so sensitive. So vulnerable.

Buffy took his balls in her hand and squeezed, cautiously, with all the careful control of her strength she'd ever learned, and every bit of tender cruelty she had. When Giles gasped, she stopped, and released him. There was a faint beading of sweat on his forehead, and he had flushed.

"Stand up and dress yourself."

Giles obeyed. She watched him zip himself up carefully, with his penis held upright inside his briefs. He buckled his belt, then looked up at her. His face was red, but he was otherwise composed and controlled. He adjusted his tie and gave her that shy smile again. He cleared his throat, then stuck his hand into his jacket pocket and inclined his head slightly.

"I have a present for you."

Buffy grinned at him. "You mean besides you?"

"I promised you scent. I know you usually wear florals, but, ah, I thought this might suit. I had it blended specially."

He handed her a small black velvet bag. It held a small glass bottle with a cork stopper in the neck; the bottle was full of a thick red oil. Perfume. Buffy pulled the cork stopper out and sniffed cautiously at the oil. Spicy oranges, and something dark and velvety underneath. With a bite lurking behind it. Her nostrils flared, and she inhaled again, more deeply.

"Made for me?"

"At the occult shop downtown. It has a number of interesting qualities."

He took the bottle back from her, held his index finger over the neck and upended it. He reached out and stroked his finger behind her ear and trailed it down along her neck. Buffy shivered. He wet his finger again, then capped the bottle. He moved around behind her and stroked behind her ears. He trailed his fingers down the back of her neck.

"What qualities?" she said, unsteadily.

"It repels demons," he whispered into her ear.

"Oh, really."

Giles nuzzled against her neck. "Mmm, yes. And it has one other important characteristic."

"What's that?"

"It is an aphrodisiac for Watchers."

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her up onto her toes and kissed her neck, passionately. She could feel his erection pressed against her back. He released her just as suddenly and begged her pardon gravely. Buffy turned and laid her hands on his chest. He bent to her again and kissed her, more gently this time. Buffy pressed herself close against him and let him kiss her. Soft kisses, tender kisses. His eyes were closed, so she closed hers and let him have his way with her.

At length he sighed and pulled away from her. "We should leave now to make our reservation. Ready?"

"Give me a sec." Buffy straightened her dress and checked her face in the mirror. The advantage of going light on the makeup tonight was that there wasn't much for Giles to mess up by kissing. She snagged her overnight bag from the end of the bed and said, "Ready."

"May I carry that for you? My car's in the public lot."

He held doors for her with that same courtesy on their way out of the dorm and walked one step behind her and to her left. That was sound tactics and not mere courtesy: they covered each other's weak sides that way. Though it was still twilight, and vampires were not going to be in motion yet. Buffy practiced scanning for them anyway, just to keep herself on her toes. Here she was, dressed for a nice night out, and she couldn't stop thinking like a Slayer. She sighed.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Hey. Professor Walsh at 2 o'clock. With her research assistant Beaker."

Buffy thought Walsh was headed the other way, but Angleman spotted them and pointed her out to Walsh. They changed direction and headed straight toward Buffy and Giles. Giles cocked his head at her, and Buffy shrugged. She had no idea what Walsh wanted. She wondered if Walsh could tell what she was up to with Giles, dressed up like this, if Walsh would know somehow that she was cheating on Riley. She squared her shoulders; no time to worry about that now.

"Hey, Professor Walsh. What are you doing on campus on a Saturday?"

"Didn't Lieutenant Finn contact you? We have a training exercise tonight. Doctor Angleman has a test he'd like to perform on you as well."

Buffy opened her mouth to explain, then shut it again because she wasn't sure what to say. Giles's hand closed on her elbow, roughly enough to startle her, and he tugged her back a step. He let go and caught her eye for a second. There was something in his face that made Buffy wake up and go on the alert. Then he straightened and said to Walsh, "Miss Summers is otherwise occupied tonight."

"I don't believe we've met."

"Rupert Giles."

"Maggie Walsh."

Giles held out a hand, and Walsh shook it for what seemed to Buffy to be the minimum polite time.

"Oh, yes, Rupert Giles. Lieutenant Finn mentioned you once. You were the librarian at the town high school."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest that Giles had been much more than that, but Giles touched her elbow again and she shut her mouth. He had a plan, she could see that much. She'd let him spool it out.

"I think you know better than that," Giles said, politely. "We needn't pretend."

Walsh laughed. "It's true. Finn has given us a full report on Buffy's colorful past."

"I see."

"But Buffy, there's still time for you to join the team if you head back and change now. If you're going to join up, you need to start taking these appointments seriously."

Once again Giles answered for her. "Miss Summers has a prior engagement. We have our own training exercise tonight."

"Really." Walsh took a step back and frowned at Angleman, who shrugged slightly. "I was told that your relationship was in the past."

"It seems you were misinformed."

"Apparently so." And that was interesting. Riley hadn't told Walsh everything, not recently, anyway. Walsh sighed. "Pity. I expected tonight to be informative."

"Oh? About what?"

"We are curious what gives Buffy the reflexes she has. She does appear to have physical abilities quite similar to those of some of the hostiles we've studied."

"Yes, it is a puzzle, isn't it," Giles said.

"She's quite a handful. Strong appetite. Fast metabolism. She's been disruptive in our training exercises, not through any intention to cause problems, I suspect. No one has taught her discipline."

Buffy's hand curled into a fist around her purse strap, but she kept her mouth shut. Giles smiled at Professor Walsh, and it was the strangest, creepiest smile Buffy had ever seen on him. Walsh didn't seem to even notice, because if she had, she'd have stepped back from him. A second later, Giles's smile was back to normal, and he had his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, in typical Giles-mode.

"Sounds as if she's not cut out for the military," he said.

"Military discipline and structure is exactly what this young woman needs, in my judgement."

"I find that, ah, the Slayer requires a more traditional sort of discipline. One more suited to her nature."

"And just what is that nature?"

"Slayers," he said, in his driest voice, "have more than a little in common with the demons they're made to slaughter. They're hot-blooded and need a strong hand."

"And you're the man to provide it."

Giles shrugged. "It's a matter of experience."

"I find that fascinating, Mr Giles. I'm facing a new set of challenges with my soldiers where your knowledge might be just what I need." Walsh glanced back at Angleman, who was looking over at the sciences building instead of at her. "You've had trouble filling your time this year, Finn tells me."

Giles's head jerked back, and his lips pressed together. Professor Walsh raised an eyebrow at him, and the hair on Buffy's neck rose again. These two people didn't like each other, she realized, not even a single little bit, and this whole conversation had been fencing with sharp steel. And Walsh had just scored a touch.

"You know, Mr Giles, if you were seeking a change of pace, I can offer you a marvelous opportunity. One I'm certain would be to your tastes. I'd enjoy having a man like you under me."

"Oh?"

"Think about it."

"I'll consider it," was all Giles said.

"So what are you up to this evening? It looks more like you're heading to dinner than to primitive weapons training."

Walsh addressed her question to Buffy, but again Giles touched her on the elbow and Buffy let him answer.

"We're having her tea leaves read," he said.

"The Initiative doesn't waste time on superstition," Professor Walsh said.

"Neither do I. And speaking of the time-- we must be off. Have a good evening."

Giles took her elbow again and drew her away down the sidewalk. Once they'd put Walsh and Angleman a good way behind themselves, Giles let go of her. Buffy breathed out a long sigh. That had been some routine he'd pulled just now, but she was pretty sure she knew what he'd been trying to do. Let Walsh think he was bossing her around, the way the Council was supposed to work. Probably that would make Walsh decide she was weak, and underestimate her. She hoped.

"That was a mood-killer," she said.

"Outright disturbing, I'd have said."

There was something in his voice that made Buffy turn and stare sharply up into his face. He was more flustered than she'd seen him in a long time, to the point where he was polishing his glasses as they walked.

"Giles, calm down. That was just Maggie being Maggie, I thought."

"Oh?"

"Riley says she can be a hard-ass. Focused on the problem in front of her, not so good with the social skills."

"That was not my reading. But it doesn't matter."

Riley'd said more, once, when he'd been angry about something, about one of his squad being reassigned by Walsh without consulting with him. But that was just him grousing about work, the way she'd complain about vampires. Mostly Riley seemed to like Walsh. Was she serious about that job offer? Buffy didn't like the idea, especially because it would mean she would definitely end up joining the Initiative. The idea of investigating it from the inside, of getting her own special implants and monitors, was giving her the creeps. She pondered this until they reached the public parking lot, where Giles's battered car was.

Giles dug for his keys in his pocket and opened the passenger door for her.

"I do think we learned something worthwhile," he said.

"What?" Buffy said. Giles's brows came together, and she held up a hand to keep him silent while she thought it through herself. "She's interested in what makes me the Slayer."

"Yes."

Buffy got in the car. Giles closed the door on her, then trotted around to climb in on the driver's side. He made no move to start the engine but instead drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

An idea occurred to Buffy. "I think she wants to make her own. Is already trying to. Riley and his special diet."

"Hmm, perhaps. You said they had a doctor look at you, when you spent the day with the team. Did they take samples?"

"They drew blood, yeah. The other night they had me on a treadmill running with a breathing thingie hooked up."

"Measuring oxygen uptake." Giles tapped two fingers against his lips. "Don't let them take samples again."

"All warfare is based on deception."

"Precisely."

"And if they have more of my blood, they'll figure it out. Did you mean what you said about Slayers being part demon? Or was that more deception?"

Giles didn't answer her right away, and Buffy felt a flash of anger. "Giles. Answer me."

"Not entirely. I repeated something I was told once, by someone I despised."

"So what did make the Slayers?"

Giles sighed. "No one knows, though there are legends, each one contradicting the next. The divine agent is at least as prevalent as the demon blood theory. I've got a book that compiles them all in one of the boxes from the library. I'll find it for you tomorrow."

Buffy thought about this. Blood. It was always about blood. It was where vampires and the demons that walked the earth came from, Giles had said, when the blood of greater demons mixed with the blood of humans. Blood was how vampires lived and how they infected new hosts. Was her power in her blood? That was how Giles had taken it away from her, when the Council had made him poison her. Speaking of which.

"The Council has no idea where I came from, really? I don't believe that."

Giles shook his head. "If they know, they haven't told me. They keep their secrets. And I am no longer privy to even the least of them." His voice was harsh on those last words, and his face had an expression on it Buffy didn't see often. She remembered the look on his face when the Council had fired him, when Travers had threatened him. Defiant, jaw thrust out, under the black eye. She was glad he wasn't working for them any more.

"Are you seriously considering working for Professor Walsh?"

"If it would serve our goals, yes."

The thought of Giles working for Walsh made her chest tighten up. A flood of something strange came over her, the feeling she'd had when she'd seen Olivia in Giles's shirt. When she'd seen the photographs of Giles with the professional dominatrix. She hadn't called it jealousy then, but she knew it for what it was now. Maybe it was a bad thing. She'd worry about that later.

She reached out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shook him, less gently than she'd meant to. Giles grasped her wrist, but didn't try to pull free.

"No. You work for me now. Not for anybody else. Not Maggie, not the Council. You're mine now."

Giles closed his hand over hers and disentangled her grasp from his shirt. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Of course," he murmured against her fingers. "Never doubt me."

"Never. But that's a tactic I don't want to use. I don't want you wearing their uniforms. I need you the way you are."

"I understand," he said, and he stroked her hand.

Maybe he even did understand. He hadn't been boasting when he'd told Walsh he knew what Slayers needed. Slayers needed Watchers, or something just like them. Somebody safe, reliable, a place to return to when she needed a refuge and time to think. Advice, analysis, A friend she could trust to support her interests completely. Everybody wanted that, maybe, but for the Slayer it was urgent. Though she felt she'd just been ridiculous and clingy. Wasn't she supposed to be meeting all her own emotional needs? That's what the psych text said, what Maggie Walsh had said in a lecture.

She said, "I'm sorry. Was that another mood-killer?"

"Not in the least." There was that shy smile again, peeking out. "You told me what I most long to hear."

Buffy felt her face flush at that, though she couldn't understand why. Giles kissed her knuckles one last time, then laid her hand on his knee. He reached for the key in the ignition. Buffy slid her hand up his thigh and squeezed his leg gently. Giles turned over the engine, and they puttered into motion. Toward dinner and the rest of their evening.

Despite all this, my sentences are still terrible.

Mon, 25 May 2009 03:40:23 GMT

How long can it take to edit 3000 words until they're the right ones? Apparently, all day long. I hope I'll be done soon. Sometimes I wonder why I spend so much time and agony on self-indulgent kinky fanfiction that has an audience of about 20 people tops. On a good day. Oh well. I'm pretty sure all 20 of those people will enjoy it as much as I do. Once I've managed to forget the process of writing it, that is. I can't enjoy it right now. I rather loathe it.

I think this is why fan writers get all needy about comments. We all want to know our suffering has a point, some kind of reward at the end.

To procrastinate, have been writing disquisition on how there is no difference between "emotional arc" and "plot" in stories, in that emotions and character movement and everything else must be expressed through action and choice. In my reference-addled head, I refer to this as the "faith without works is dead" theory of story writing. Who the heck knows who that character is until she does something?

In other news: mmmm, strawberries and cream.

Oh noes! Fifteen books meme.

Sat, 23 May 2009 00:28:07 GMT

15 books meme: "This can be a quick one. Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes."

The Science Fiction Hall of Fame, short stories & novellas
Larry Niven, Ringworld
Iain M. Banks, The Use of Weapons
Steven Brust, The Phoenix Guards & Five Hundred Years After
Dorothy Sayers, Murder Must Advertise
J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
John Galsworthy, The Man of Property
Patrick O'Brian, H. M. S. Surprise
Arthur Conan Doyle, The Complete Sherlock Holmes
Robert Graves, I, Claudius
John M. Ford, The Final Reflection
Terry Pratchett, Small Gods
Connie Willis, Bellwether
Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Am I cheating by listing two Brust novels? I think they have to go together, though. The only embarrassments on the list are the Galsworthy and the Connie Willis. The Willis, while utterly delightful and something I'd recommend to anyone who stood still long enough for me to gesticulate at them, reveals that I have mostly froth between my ears.

FIC: The Value of Restraint (Giles/Buffy, FRM)

Wed, 20 May 2009 05:00:46 GMT

The Value of Restraint
Giles/Buffy
FRM
400 words
This was originally a kink meme response that I abandoned as having not quite the right tone. The prompt was "Buffy whipping Giles", but the kink here is indirect.

The manacles were Council-issue, as was the leather whip. The manacles were magically enhanced so they were equal to the strength of a Slayer in need of chastisement. And the whip was also specially designed, hand-made by Council craftsmen to an ages-old pattern, the lashes tipped with silver beads. A set was issued to every Watcher when he took his oath, when he used his blood to sign the contract that binds him to his Slayer until her duty is ended.

Buffy had discovered them in a box with the Cruciamentum drugs, hidden in the back of his closet behind the chest of winter clothing he'd never wear in Sunnydale. He ought to have destroyed the lot, but he'd filed it away just in case. And so his Slayer had found them. The manacles, the whip, the drugs, the manual that instructed Watchers how to use them on their charges.

Giles sat on the edge of his bed and polished his glasses and watched Buffy skim through the manual. Once upon a time she'd have thrown it at his head and exploded at him, vanished from his life for a couple of weeks of sulking. Not any more. Buffy had learned restraint. The value of thinking before acting.

"They're sick fucks," she said, at last.

"I shan't quarrel with that description."

"Did you ever consider using this stuff on me?"

"There were moments when I was tempted, but in truth, no. Even before I met you, I knew I wasn't capable of it."

"Why did you keep them?"

Giles spread his hands. "In case we needed them for another purpose."

Buffy approved his caution. Clever Buffy. Practical Buffy. Tactical Buffy. She had ideas. The drugs might be handy some day if Faith ever escaped from prison. The manacles as well. And as for the whip--

"It'll be kinky," she said and she gave him that bright smile that he rather worshipped. Unfortunately for him.

His Slayer practiced another sort of restraint with him, the more literal sort. The sort that had him on his knees raising his wrists to her so that she might fasten the Council's manacles around them. The sort that had his body awake and aroused and eager at the sound of the locks clicking shut. He would have all the time in the world to think later, while his lovely, devious, deviant Slayer chastised him, wrung blood from him, and received his most fervent oaths of devotion.

Short shameful confession

Tue, 19 May 2009 00:24:42 GMT

I think I want to see Star Trek a fourth time. Even though I've already memorized half the dialog by accident. I'm pretty sure Mr Pedia will cheerfully go with me again.

Yeah. He says he will. Okay then.