I hate science fiction. I hate science fiction movies, science fiction books, and science fiction fans. I think the genre is dangerous, and any attempt to raise critical appreciation of it is likewise damaging.
Do you hate science fiction? Why?
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:02 (eleven years ago) link
Did someone call you out as a Trekkie?
― King Boy Pato, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:04 (eleven years ago) link
Actually, I like it sometimes. I also think that if you like fiction in general, separating out the "science fiction" is a bit trickier than you might think. Do you like fiction in general? What do you hate about science fiction? What is dangerous about it?
― Maria, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:05 (eleven years ago) link
Heart disease, obesity, etc.
― King Boy Pato, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:08 (eleven years ago) link
Too much of blatant attempt to cause a car crash here Dom. Should've been subtler.
― Raw Patrick, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:10 (eleven years ago) link
Unless you have Jagz or Jez coming as 5th column.
do ... not ... rise ... to ... challops ... bait ...
― Thomas, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:11 (eleven years ago) link
looks like dom got barred from the of slugs and stars facebook group
― DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:11 (eleven years ago) link
i hate taking things seriously when they're not meant that way
― Maria, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:12 (eleven years ago) link
Too much of blatant attempt to cause a car crash here Dom. Should've been subtler.
― King Boy Pato, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:12 (eleven years ago) link
I hate like 95% of it
― sonderborg, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:15 (eleven years ago) link
It is becoming a slow day. Shock therapy won't work. Well, it might. We'll see.
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:16 (eleven years ago) link
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:16 (eleven years ago) link
Topic conceived while thinking about how, due to the limited cultural and social experiences of many people working in the field of "letters", how more has been written on an explanatory and critical field about trash like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or The X-Files rather than, say, The Sopranos, The Wire, or Mad Men. Surely this is going to have implications for the upbringing of our children, and our children's children. Especially when they introduce TV scripts onto English literature courses, and Domenico Passantino Jr III is being forced to write 5,000 words about Reaper.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:19 (eleven years ago) link
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:20 (eleven years ago) link
space is boring
― MPx4A, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:20 (eleven years ago) link
nah space is ok
― sonderborg, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:21 (eleven years ago) link
Isn't Buffy the Vampire Slayer also a really creepy concept, when you consider how, throughout literary history, the vampire was an anti-semitic caricature? And then all of a sudden you have an hour on TV a week delighting in a blonde-haired, blue-eyed devil killing racist caricatures of Jews?
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:21 (eleven years ago) link
They're easy to write about coz they have organised fandom, which is waht a lot of the blather is about. (xpost)
― Raw Patrick, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:22 (eleven years ago) link
Spike wasn't a jew he was a hunk.
I'm helping you out here.
I'm talking about intent rather than intangible details.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:23 (eleven years ago) link
more has been written on an explanatory and critical field about trash like Buffy the Vampire Slayer
welcome to ILX
― DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:24 (eleven years ago) link
this thread is totally scifi
dom is absorbing all the challop energy from the rest of ilx and harnessing its power to create a super weapon
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:24 (eleven years ago) link
-- Raw Patrick, 3. juni 2008 12:22 (3 minutes ago) Bookmark Link
I thought better of making that post, but there it is!
― Maria, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:27 (eleven years ago) link
Have you heard this Dom?
― Hello Everyone!, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:29 (eleven years ago) link
Maybe Dom's just been influenced by the lack of professional wrestlers with sci-fi gimmicks.
― treefell, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:29 (eleven years ago) link
Is it as good as Unkle?
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:29 (eleven years ago) link
I like science fiction. I also think The Wire, Mad Men and the Sopranos are way way way better than Buffy or the X-Files. The vast majority of the SF I consume is in book form, which is the medium in which the huge, crazy ideas which are the genre's strong point have the most room to breathe and expand. I have also never been a Trekkie.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:32 (eleven years ago) link
-- treefell, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:29 (7 seconds ago) Bookmark Link
Interesting point you touch on, but I'd argue that while pro-wres and sci-fi are attempting to do similar things (play out a good-vs-evil battle while touching upon socio-political fears of the day), wrestling does so in a more interesting, more effective, and more... aware-of-cultural-history manner. Which is why professional wrestling has always been a mainstream, socially acceptable concern, but why science fiction is seen as something for malcontents.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:32 (eleven years ago) link
evidence for the defence: tarkovsky's solaris
― Frogman Henry, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:32 (eleven years ago) link
Professional wrestling has always been a mainstream, socially acceptable concern, but science fiction is seen as something for malcontents? Wow, this is news to me.
― Maria, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:34 (eleven years ago) link
play out a good-vs-evil battle while touching upon socio-political fears of the day
The entire multi-media genre is not as morally simplistic as its most populist extremes, you know.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:34 (eleven years ago) link
I think to dismiss ALL sci-fi is just as dangerous as you're making sci-fi out to be, but you've certainly got a point about the more mainstream, not-really-scientific fantasy-codswallop end of the scale. Oh look, Chap just said it for me.
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:35 (eleven years ago) link
No, but if were to reduce both sci-fi and wrestling down to their base level, you'd have the blue-eye versus the invader, yes?
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:35 (eleven years ago) link
Cha(llo)p, however, is a big Doctor Who fan, which is where our concordance falters.
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:36 (eleven years ago) link
all tv series sci fi is pretty shit, but most movies can be okay.
― Ste, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:36 (eleven years ago) link
-- Maria, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:34 (1 minute ago) Bookmark Link
Think of all the famous professional wrestling fans. Bill Clinton, Margaret Thatcher, Queen Elizabeth II, Ronald Reagan, Frank Sinatra, Idi Amin. All people who were mainstream figures.
Think of all the famous science fiction fans. John Redwood.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:36 (eleven years ago) link
Dom, where do you stand on Asimov, Dick and other such writers? Oh wait xpost I C WAT UR DOIN
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:38 (eleven years ago) link
Yeah, all sci-fi is shit and evil.
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:39 (eleven years ago) link
I think if you're going to start defending your position here by reaching for the dead white guy canon, Louis, you're pretty much admitting you've lost.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:40 (eleven years ago) link
The only way to win on this thread is to have never read it.
― Jarlrmai, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:41 (eleven years ago) link
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:42 (eleven years ago) link
Where's the MiB memory-eraser when we need it?
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:42 (eleven years ago) link
too late Jarl
think I'll check back in an hour
― Matt, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:42 (eleven years ago) link
The power of belief
Reality is described as spread thinly on the Disc, so events may be affected by expectations, especially those of 'intelligent' species such as humans, dwarfs etc. Such a world is not governed by physics or logic but by belief and narrative resolution. Essentially, if something is believed strongly enough, or by enough people, it may become true. Jokes such as treacle mines and drop bears are real on the Disc; in reality lemmings don't actually rush en masse off cliffs, on the Disc they do, because that is what people believe (actually, since mass suicide would seriously foul up natural selection, they tend to abseil down them instead). This is also exploited in both wizard and witch magic. For example, if you wish to turn a cat into a human, the easiest way is to convince him, on a deep level, that he is a human.
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:44 (eleven years ago) link
okay discworld is a completely justified target for your wrath, dom.
― Frogman Henry, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:47 (eleven years ago) link
not that any scifi has actually been mentioned on this thread yet
― DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:47 (eleven years ago) link
The energy cannot be seen in its pure form. It takes the form of things and ideas. As the beauty of a flower is a form of the energy, so is the thought you just had to get some ice cream. The energy mutates at will and without it there is nothingness. The void of no perception.
The closest to a pure form of the energy is love, for love is very similar to the energy itself. Love is watered down well whiskey on the rocks while the energy is perfect whiskey tasted without it ever touching anything but your lips. Life is the glass, the water and the ice.
When the energy mutates, it leaves a void in the form it leaves behind. Life mutates into another form of the energy and death fills the void. Love continues to exist. It does not mutate as well as life. When that love cannot be given or expressed, a well is created. The more that we love and are left with no open way to express that love, the greater becomes our need to give that love where we can.
Love is what happens when the energy gives birth to life, for all things depend on it in some form. Love is how souls communicate with each other. They are otherwise alone within their own realities. If souls do not find ways to communicate with each other, they begin to atrophy.
Love is what happens when souls communicate.
The connection between certain forms of love and reproduction is not coincidental. Souls conceive as well as bodies. If the souls are not communicating at the moment of physical conception, a void remains that must somehow be filled.
Because the act of sexual reproduction naturally exposes two people to each other in many ways, it is very rarely that souls do not communicate during conception.
The energy may take the shape of love only for an instant in time, or it may maintain that shape forever. Most forms of love fall towards the shorter, those that increase in intensity over time are to be treasured.
Souls form bonds over time by communicating with each other. The strongest bonds are those forged in the creation or relighting of souls, conception.
Each soul travels and accumulates and loses energy. It takes a certain amount of energy to be relit in various frames. The lower frames require little energy to relight a soul. The higher frames require a great deal of energy before allowing a soul to be relit within them. The lower one sinks, the more difficult it is to rise to a higher frame. One must work to accumulate positive energy in order to rise in the frames. The giving of love is the greatest generator of positive energy. That positive energy is greatly reduced when one gives, not just of love but of anything, while expecting a return on investment.
Love is not an investment.
Negative energy is created by taking, and it is much stronger when nothing is given in return or when what is taken is not offered. The thief, the rapist and the murderer accumulate more negative energy than they can balance in one lifetime. A liar creates as much, if not more, negative energy than a thief.
A soul remains in one frame and its equivalents as long as it remains in balance. When it is stronger in positive energy, it rises. When it is stronger in negative energy, it falls.
A soul can be destroyed by falling too low, beyond what can be framed. Soul death is the result of having no other soul to orbit, either within the nothingness beyond frames or where no other soul will enter its orbit.
A dead soul is as immortal as a living soul.
It floats forever alone and unable to feel anything.
Those who accumulate enough positive energy to rise to a higher level of being experience enlightenment. Their souls may be able to communicate with souls at a higher level of being. The soul begins to travel before the body. The soul always connects with the next frame before the body, however it may only be an instant. Souls exist on a different concept of time where an instant outside in a frame may be as long as a thousand years within the soul.
A poor starving man, beaten and cheated by his cruel overlord has more opportunity to travel higher than he who dines at the overlord's table.
The souls of a liberated people have less opportunity for higher travel, but a frame can itself rise higher when the souls of its people as a whole generate more positive energy than negative energy. Prophets have spoken of frames rising and teachers have attempted to pass the knowledge that it can be done.
When something is taken from you, whether it is a material thing, your life or your dignity, you expel negative energy that is absorbed by the thief in question. A man who stabs another man is wounding his own soul with the negative energy he takes from the man he is stabbing. One can only avoid absorbing negative energy from taking the life of one without any negative energy. Such an soul would absorb and destroy negative energy from those who try to take from him.
The blueprint of the soul is not a document in the sense that documents are defined here. It is a living document comprised of the energy, defined by those who have written in it by existing. It is the heart of the energy.
Religions become a necessity in creating gatherings for passage together into a higher frame. At the heart of any true religion are the same teachings, surrounded by a myriad of rituals and trappings. These help to define a higher frame, and often to define a lower frame. Passage together to a frame conceived within the collective reality of the religion allows those who accumulate enough positive energy to advance to that higher frame. For those who would not follow the heart of the teachings and seek to expel negative energy, it is pointless to expect any frame advancement. For those that do follow, and believe, a convergence of souls occurs within the higher frame.
Most religions have at their heart the same code, although the translations are done within different collective realities and therefore vary within that context. The particulars change. Any religion with the code as its heart will be able to penetrate the core of individual souls, focusing their fundamental spiritual reality on a shared vision. Souls place their faith in a higher being's guidance and wisom, thus granting power to that being. A kingdom in a higher frame is more powerful and means something different than it does within this frame. The subjects of a higher frame often come to that frame through their faith in a higher being there.
It is easier to follow an existing trail into a higher frame than it is to create your own. Not only must one be able to envision the frame and create it from faith, one must then be able to populate the new frame with other souls or one will remain alone there until the guidelines of that frame allow you to exit.
Harmony is the ultimate goal of souls, but each soul's perception of that harmony is different. This is why there are very few souls one can find true harmony with. Total harmony is as easy to attain as soul perfection. We journey in search of the harmony, to experience all things and to be one with all.
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:49 (eleven years ago) link
"A Cyborg Manifesto" is a socialist-feminist analysis of "women's situation in the advanced technological conditions of postmodern life in the First World" (Penley, interview cited below). The "elementary units of socialist-feminist analysis," race, gender, and class (173) are in the process of transformation. The tools for analysis: Marxist, psychoanalytic, feminist, anthropological (173) are problematic as they are currently articulated (1985). Problems Haraway finds with each of these "tools" of analysis:
Marxism: 1. Marxist "humanism," we can only come to know the subject through labor; relies upon a Western sense of self. 2. Erases "polyvocal, unassimilable, radical difference made visible in anti-colonial discourse and practice" (159).
Psychoanalysis: 1. Relies upon the family and birth of the self "drama," which is about individuation, separation, the birth of the self, wholeness before language [Lacan's imaginary]. 2. Freudian and Lacanian (and theories based upon their work) rely upon the category of woman as other; "in this plot women are imagined either better or worse off [better off=eg. woman as goddess], but all agree they have less selfhood, weaker individuation, more fusion to the oral [instead of the written, which is the preferred "technology" of the cyborg], to Mother" (177). 3. Universalizes. In an interview with Haraway, she asks: "Can you come up with an unconscious [which she wants to "keep"] that escapes the familial narrative...or that poses the familial narratives as local stories?"
Feminism: 1. "There is nothing about being female that naturally binds women. There is not even such a state as 'being' female, itself a highly complex category constructed in contested sexual scientific discourses and other social practices" (155). [However, though "female" is a construction, women are still historically real.] 2. Feminism in the US has been characterized by the "natural" unity of all women, not taking into account, nor allowing room for, categories of race and class. 3. The reaction [in progress?] to this imposed unity risks "lapsing into boundless difference and giving up on the confusing task of making partial, real connection" (161). Although a partial solution, why is this problematic?
"I do not know of any other time in history when there was greater need for political unity to confront effectively the dominations of 'race', 'gender', 'sexuality', and 'class'" (157). Goals of the "ironic political myth" of the "cyborg"--a utopian, "possible world." (On utopias: "Most utopian schemes hover somewhere in between the present and the future, attempting to figure the future as the present, the present as the future" [Penley, interview cited below]). Why the cyborg as a metaphor for this text?
"Cyborg replication is uncoupled from organic reproduction" (150) "The cyborg does not dream of community on the model of the organic family" (151).
The cyborg does not aspire to "organic wholeness through a final appropriation of all the powers of the parts into a higher unity" (150). The cyborg "is not afraid of joint kinship with animals and machines...of permanently partial identities and contradictory standpoints" (154). The cyborg is the "illegitimate child" of patriarchy, colonialism, and capitalism.
The cyborg thus evades traditional humanist concepts of women as childbearer and raiser, of individuality and individual wholeness, the heterosexual marriage-nuclear family, transcendentalism and Biblical narrative, the great chain of being (god/man/animal/etc.), fear of death, fear of automatism, insistence upon consistency and completeness. It evades the Freudian family drama, the Lacanian m/other, and "natural" affiliation and unity. It attempts to complicate binary oppositions, which have been "systemic to the logics and practices of domination of women, people of colour, nature, workers, animals" (177).
Haraway likens "cyborg" to the political identity of "women of color," which "marks out a self-consciously constructed space that cannot affirm the capacity to act on the basis of natural identification, but only on the basis of conscious coalition, of affinity, of political kinship" (156). "Cyborg" though, is grounded in "political-scientific" analysis. This analysis takes up most of the "manifesto."
Haraway's political-scientific analysis of where "we" are going: "We are living through a movement from an organic, industrial society to a polymorphous, information system" (161). Her "chart of transitions" on page 161-62 lists specifics. (This was later modified; in case you're interested in the changes, I've attached the 1989 chart below.) The movement she sees occurring is both "scary" and reason for coalition. Haraway, trained in biology, analyzes scientific discourse as both constructed and as "instruments for enforcing meanings" (164). "Scientific discourse," she says in the interview cited below, "without ever ceasing to be radically and historically specific, does still make claims on you, ethically, physically." Haraway argues that "one important route for reconstructing socialist-feminist politics is through theory and practice addressed to the social relations of science and technology, including crucially the systems of myth and meanings structuring our imagination" (163). The relations between science and technology, largely ignored by feminists, is a material reality which women need to be aware of--not fear or disparage. These relations are "rearranging" categories of race, sex and class; feminism needs to take this into account. Haraway's analysis of "women in the integrated circuit" tries to suggest, without relying too much on the category of "woman" (as a natural category), to suggest that as technologies radically restructure "life" on earth, "women" do not, and are not, through education, training, etc., learning to control these technologies, to "read these webs of power" (170). A socialist-feminist politics must address these restructurings.
"Cyborgs: A Myth of Political Identity" acknowledges Haraway's debt to writers of "science fiction," and finds in these texts the sources of her cyborg myth. "Cyborg monsters in feminist science fiction define quite different political possibilities and limits from those proposed by the mundane fiction of Man and Woman" (180).
Since, as Haraway sees it, the world is changing rapidly--and this is due mainly to scientific/technological discourses and the claims they make physically upon "us"--the tools that Haraway (and ourselves) find available and in use are no longer viable. The world/culture/discourses upon which they are based are changing. And the premises upon which these tools rest are those which support capitalism, imperialism and patriarchy, which may be, according to her analysis, dwindling, but only to be replaced by something as bad, if not worse, (and possibly, she seems to suggest, better). She wants to keep some kind of agency (not based upon a whole and individual self), materialism, and a feminism not based upon natural unity between women (contradiction is allowed in the "ironic cyborg myth"). Haraway perhaps isnt doing a lot that is new in this piece. What is interesting is the rhetorical strategy, the suggestion that an anti-science stance is unrealistic and ignores potential pleasures, and the potential value of science-fiction. Haraways cyborg probably wont fare well with many readers, who arent wanting to give up much of what Haraway points to as humanistic.
Bourgeois novel Science fiction
Realism and modernism Postmodernism
Organism Biotic component, code
Mimesis Play of signifiers
Depth, integrity Surface, boundary
Biology as clinical practice Biology as inscription
Physiology Communications engineering
Microbiology, tuberculosis Immunology, AIDS
Magic bullet Immunomodulation
Small group Subsystem
Eugenics Genetic engineering
Hygiene Stress Management
Organic division of labour Ergonomics, cybernetics
Functional specialization Modular construction
Biological determinism System constraints
Community ecology Ecosystem
Racial chain of being United Nations Humanism
Colonialism Transnational capitalism
Nature/culture Fields of difference
Co-operation Communications enhancement
Mind Artificial intelligence
Second World War Star Wars
White capitalist patriarchy Informatics of domination
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:52 (eleven years ago) link
I think Dom's gone to lunch
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:53 (eleven years ago) link
I think Dom's gone out to lunch
― Raw Patrick, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:54 (eleven years ago) link
Like sci-fi fan Ben Watson.
(or “A Rogue and a Wraith Met in a Bar...”)
by Angela Jade
Rated - NC-17 (slash!)
Warnings - apart from the slash, there’s angst, adultery, alcohol, aberration and a bunch of other stuff beginning with ‘a’. And did I mention THE SLASH?
e-mail - ang✧✧✧@yav✧✧✧.free-onl✧✧✧.c✧.u✧ - constructive criticism and happy thoughts greatly appreciated. Flames laughed at.
Pairing - Corran/Face (implied Face/Ton)
Spoilers - mainly for “Iron Fist” by Aaron Allston, the 6th book in the X-Wing series.
Disclaimer - it all belongs to Lucas. I am not making any money from this.
Thanks and plot bunnies (MWAHAHA!) to GlimmerGirl, Angel and ‘The Girls’ for betas, comments, and laffs.
Dedication - Glim, for the inspiration.
I saw him before he saw me.
He sat on the barstool, hunched over a drink, his back to the busy room. Nondescript black flightsuit, dark hair cropped close - his body language screamed that he wanted to be left alone.
Yeah, well, him and me both.
The only empty stool was the one next to him, but I figured if I ignored him, he’d ignore me. So I circled around the crowded dance floor, claimed my place at the bar and waved at the bartender. It had been a long day and my brain was screaming for alcohol. “Corellian brandy, Essate.”
The multi-armed droid beeped an affirmative and trundled off in the direction of the brandy bottles. I picked idly at a shallow gash in the counter as I waited for its return.
“Do I know you?”
Well, well, what do you know. I could have sworn he’d been giving off the ‘shut up and leave me alone to wallow in my misery’ signals. Guess I’m losing my touch. Either that, or I’m too hacked off to pay attention.
“Depends on who you are.” I finally dragged my attention away from the stained bar to meet his eyes.
Wow. Just ... wow. A ragged scar tried to mar his features but failed miserably - he was stunning. Not ‘ruggedly handsome’ stunning, or even ‘intriguingly beautiful’ stunning. Stunning, as in ‘heart-stoppingly gorgeous’. I hoped I wasn’t drooling.
The green eyes, perfectly placed in the exquisite face, narrowed slightly. “It’s Corran Horn, isn’t it? Rogue Squadron.”
I was all set with the ‘yeah, who wants to know’ rejoinder, when the words died in my throat. Recognition hit like a torp up the exhaust. “Garik Loran?”
A wry smile curved his lips as he raised his glass in a somewhat shaky mock-salute. “Yeah, it’s me. The Face. Breaker of hearts, minds, and promises.” He drained the glass then refilled it from the half-full bottle of whiskey at his elbow. Someone was out to get seriously smashed.
Essate arrived with my brandy and I fed him enough credits to keep the drink coming for a while. I’d feel like shit in the morning, but at least I wouldn’t feel as bad as Loran, judging by the way he was slugging back that whiskey.
I have absolutely no idea what possessed me to start talking to him. It’s not like I was in the mood for conversation... Could it have been the Force? Doubt it. Or, if it was, it works in even more mysterious ways than Luke Skywalker knows - or had ever admitted to me, at any rate.
No, I don’t think there were any altruistic ‘let me share your pain’ thoughts that underpinned my motives. I was just depressed as hell and felt like venting to the world at large, and to the gorgeous man sitting next to me in particular. I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it.
“You’re married, aren’t you?”
Zap. Reality bit like a pissed-off bantha. “Yes.” The brandy burned a flaming path down my throat. Hopefully it would hit my brain soon. “Very, very married.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
Okay, now I was mad. I’d barely met the guy and here he was, commenting on my marriage, on something he knew absolutely nothing about. I threw back the rest of my drink and turned to give him a piece of my mind.
He wasn’t even looking at me. I’d figured, with an inflammatory remark like that, he’d at least be watching for a reaction. He just sat there, holding his glass to his lips as he contemplated the wall behind the bar. Finally he turned and raised a quizzical eyebrow. A ‘talk to me or shut up, I don’t much care’ look.
I shrugged. “We’ve got a pretty open marriage. We both work away a lot, and we decided at the beginning that it would be okay if we saw other people ... well, as long as we kept it quiet.”
“What? Was she noisy?”
Sith! The ego on this guy!! “No. It’s just ... I got back yesterday from the latest in a long line of shitty missions we’ve pulled lately, and I find her in bed with three men!” I struggled to keep my voice under control and threw back the last of the brandy in an effort to stop the shaking in my body.
“And it didn’t occur to you to jump in and join them?”
The only reason I didn’t yell at him or choke on my drink was because ... well ... for a brief moment, standing there in our sunlit bedroom, watching my wife take it from three guys, it HAD actually occurred to me. But she was MY wife, dammit... “No.”
“So did she walk out or did you?”
“Me.” Yeah, after I’d called her every nasty name I could think of, after she’d yelled at me, after I’d blasted the crap out of the comm unit, after she’d called me a hypocrite... Me, a hypocrite!
Another brandy. Still sober. “Women, huh?”
“Wouldn’t know, captain. Haven’t touched one in years.”
I watched him sip his whiskey, his eyes staring, unseeing, at the opposite wall. “You’re not bi, then?” I asked.
“No.” He turned vivid green eyes on me. “Would it make any difference?”
“Oh, come on!” He swiveled round to face me, his knee almost touching mine. “You’ve been hitting on me since you sat down!”
“In your dreams, buddy.” Although, now you mention it...
One side of his mouth tilted upwards and his eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement. “Yeah. Right.” He swallowed hard and turned back to his whiskey, suddenly morose again. “Like I need you in my dreams.”
If there’s one thing I can’t handle, it’s mood swings. I get enough of those at home. Brain says ‘ignore him’, other parts of my anatomy say ‘like hell you will.’ “Hey, some people like to see a Jedi show up in their dreams. Scares the monsters away.”
The look he gave me was composed of one hundred percent, pure, unadulterated pain. Eyes glistening with unshed tears, contracted pupils - I watched as his larynx bobbed up and down a couple of times. “A Jedi, huh?” His lips tightened as he returned his attention to his drink. “Don’t know that a Jedi would have been much use.”
“Whaddaya mean ‘not much use’. We’re damn useful. What are you talking about?”
He drained his glass again and looked longingly at his whiskey bottle, before apparently changing his mind. His voice was low and none too steady when he finally turned toward me once more. “The most important person in my life, the one I loved, the one I would kill or be killed for, died two weeks ago. Shot down on a backwater planet with the most pathetic medical facilities...” He paused, his eyes creasing with pain. “I went down after him. Found him... eventually...”
I watched him rub a hand over his eyes, and I felt as guilty as hell. My pain was nothing compared to his - Sith, I wasn’t even in pain, just angrier than I had a right to be.
“He was still alive then.” Green eyes burned into mine. “I could have saved him. I could have surrendered to Zsinj and they would have operated and he would still be alive today.”
“Crap.” The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“What?!” He looked like he was going to hit me. What the hell - maybe a fight was just what I needed.
“Zsinj isn’t stupid, Loran. He’d have figured you and your pal out in no time flat, and you’d both have been up against the wall. And then he’d have gone after the rest of your squadron and wiped them out, too.”
It was weird. The anger just seemed to drain out of him and his head drooped forward over his glass. “That’s what he said,” he whispered. “Before he died. Before I had to...”
There was nothing I could say, no words that would ease his pain. Without thinking, I put down my brandy glass and edged my fingers towards him, just barely brushing his arm. His right hand snaked towards mine and we touched, fingertips to fingertips.
His eyes met mine. “Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?”
“I could go home, I guess.” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Mirax needed more than a few hours to cool down.
“Do you want to go home?”
The self-satisfied smile was back, if somewhat diminished. His thumb brushed the length of my index finger. “I have a room in this building. Twenty-jay-two-four. You’re welcome to stay.” He was obviously trying for casual indifference, but it came over as more of a plea, his voice cracking mid-sentence.
My brain went into overdrive as I considered his offer. For a start, I wasn’t sure exactly what his offer was - floor-space, a bed for the night, something more... Seriously, I wasn’t convinced I wanted anything ‘more’ - it had been weeks ... months since I’d been with another man.
The indecision must have shown on my face. He stood up, his expression aloof once again. “Whatever you want to do, captain. The offer stands.” His hand came to rest surreptitiously on my thigh, sending a jolt of heat right through to the muscle, and those powerful green eyes met my own. “See you.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his back as he departed, head held high and, apart from a slightly circuitous route to the exit, no outward sign that he was roaring drunk. He stopped in the doorway, his body sent into silhouette by the brightly colored lights from outside. I held my breath as he turned his head, that immaculate profile there for all to see.
Then he was gone.
My hand was actually shaking as I lifted my glass to my lips and I quickly drained the brandy. Still too sober for a decision. Essate obligingly set another glass of amber liquor in front of me.
I don’t know how long I stood outside the door, staring at the symbols etched into its silver surface. Twenty-jay-two-four. My alcohol-soaked mind registered that it was the correct door, yet I still wasn’t entirely convinced that I shouldn’t just turn back to the lift and leave. Maybe Mirax would have calmed down by now and was either asleep or waiting up, ready to forgive my harsh words and violent reaction...
Yeah, right. Real likely.
My hand reached out of its own volition and pressed the door announcer.
I hit it again, more forcefully.
Still nothing. No answering voice, no sound of movement ... nothing. Crap. He’d gone out again. Or not come home in the first place. A dozen scenarios zipped through my brain, most of them involving him picking up some cute guy and...
The door opened, snapping me out of my reverie ... and I just stared. Wearing nothing but a pair of black shorts and a confused expression, he ran a hand through mussed hair and squinted into the light of the corridor. “Oh, it’s you.”
I forced myself to focus on his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t really sleeping.” He turned and walked into the darkness of the room. “Come on in.”
“Are you sure? I can find somewhere else to sleep if you want...”
He stopped at the huge window and stared at the city lights outside. “No. I invited you - you might as well stay.”
Well, thanks for the enthusiasm.
As my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I looked around my room for the night. It was dominated by a large, rumpled bed; the twisted white sheeting proclaimed its occupant’s insomnia. An empty sidetable, a chair almost hidden under a heap of clothes, a two-seater couch - not much else. One other door I assumed was the refresher.
“Would you like a magnifier to check for ranats?”
My head snapped up. “Sorry. Force of habit. Used to be in Corsec.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the window; his face was still in shadow, but his voice held hints of amusement. At least, I think it did. “Well, officer, I swear I’m innocent. Most of the time.”
I muttered another apology and indicated the compact sofa. “Should I sleep there?”
Biceps and pectorals briefly stood out as he pushed himself away from the window. “Up to you. Bed’s plenty big enough.” He tilted his head to one side. “Assuming you trust me, of course.”
Trust? Trust him to do what? Trust was what I felt for my wingmate, my squadron, my tech crew. I trusted they’d keep me flying and shoot the bad guys off my tail. Did I trust this guy not to kill me in my sleep? I watched him as he shrugged and walked back to the bed. Nice ass. “Yeah, I trust you.”
“Good.” He crawled across the bed and turned his back to me, pulling the sheets up to his chin. “G’night.”
Hmm. Okay. Don’t know what I expected, but that definitely wasn’t it. His behavior in the bar had implied he was at least going to try to jump me. I was surprised at the hint of disappointment I felt.
The silence of the room contrasted with the buzzing in my brain. Too much brandy. I closed my eyes and let the weight of an emotionally draining day saturate my body; suddenly I felt very tired.
I opened my eyes again; Face hadn’t budged, and was now making little breathy noises that I guessed meant he was falling asleep. I stripped off to my shorts, piling my clothes on one end of the couch - then I thought ‘what the hell’ and took off my shorts too. I could never get a good night’s sleep unless I was nude.
The coverings were slightly warm when I crawled under them, but the pillow was cool against my cheek. I was asleep within seconds.
But not for long.
It felt like a miniature quake, the whole bed shaking with tiny spasms. Eventually I managed to open first one eye, then the other.
It was him, Loran.
Initially I thought he was crying; his shoulders were shuddering rhythmically and I could hear him whimpering. I reached out to touch him, then changed my mind, my hand dropping short of his back. “Are you okay?”
“I ... I can’t...” More shuddering. “I need to ... but I can’t...”
“Can’t what?” I edged closer, still unsure if I should touch him.
He took a shaky breath. “I can’t ... it won’t...” Another deep breath.
Something in the way he was moving caught my eye, the regular motion of his shoulder creating a pattern familiar to anyone who’s ever shared a bed with a man. I moved up to his back and stroked his upper arm. Thought so. “You can’t get yourself off?”
“It’s never happened to me before!” The arm slowed but continued its rhythmic pumping. “Ton just had to look at me, to touch me, and I’d be half way there.”
I rubbed my hand up and down his arm, trying to slow his pace before he damaged himself. “And you’ve not had sex since he died?”
He glared at me over his shoulder, eyes red-rimmed and tearful. “I’m not a total slut. He only died two weeks ago.”
“People cope with death in lots of ways.” I shrugged, my arm creeping a little lower.
His eyes narrowed and his arm actually slowed. “You’ve lost someone, haven’t you?”
“I’ve lost lots of people.”
“And did you...?”
“Does it help?”
“Oh.” His attention turned back to the task at hand.
“Let me help.” My hand closed gently over his; he froze, then slowly slipped his hand from under mine. At least the shorts were already gone.
He wasn’t totally soft, but he wasn’t properly hard, either. I carefully stroked him and pressed a few kisses to his shoulder. “Relax.” Finally he twitched under my hand and a short, low moan escaped his lips, sending a shiver straight down my spine. I was steel-hard instantly.
He twisted his face towards me again; I lifted my head from his shoulder, wondering what he would say. He didn’t utter a word. Just wrapped his now-free hand around my neck and pulled me in for a mind-blowing kiss.
Face Loran has a beautiful mouth. And he knows exactly how to use it.
Of course, it couldn’t last. Kissing someone at that angle is okay for a minute or two, but then it just gets downright uncomfortable. And apart from that, my erection was getting squashed and his wasn’t hardening quickly enough.
I pushed him onto his back and rapidly mouthed my way down his body, over smooth skin, hard nipples, taut abdominal muscles... Sith, even his navel is perfectly formed!
I paused when I reached his groin and looked up to check I wasn’t making a complete fool of myself. His hands gripped the top of the bed, his eyes squeezed closed and his lips parted. Oh, yeah - he wanted this alright. Even if he was thinking about his dead lover, I didn’t care. He was amazing. Amazing and rock-hard. I went down on him like a starving man at a banquet.
There’s a technique to deep-throating someone, and I was taught it many years ago by Baccaria Tarase, one of the best hookers on Corellia, and her ‘nephew’, Benat. It’s one of my lesser-known talents. I closed my eyes and swallowed him down as far as I could.
It’s incredibly gratifying to make someone scream with pleasure, although it doesn’t usually happen so quickly. Poor kid was desperate. I pulled back a little and just sucked for a while, watching him squirm and pant - he never opened his eyes, not once.
Finally I closed my own eyes and stretched out with my feelings; not to read his mind, just to touch his emotions. I could sense him struggling to hold back his impending climax, trying to draw it out. He needed the release but, well, I needed something, too. He groaned, first in disappointment when my mouth left him, then in delight as I turned him onto his stomach and kneed his legs apart. I admired his cute ass as it rose up to meet me, then gave it a slap. “Hey, where’s the lube?”
One hand snaked out and pointed to a dispenser by the bed. Convenient. I slathered a handful of the stuff over both of us and considered how much preparation he’d need. A loud groan as he pushed back towards me gave me my answer - not a lot. I let my right hand slide gently over his back, caressing the length of his spine, admiring the movement of muscle under skin.
When I reached his tailbone, he pushed back once more. “Now,” he growled.
Always happy to oblige. There was a short, sharp moment of resistance, then his body yielded to mine.
Beautiful. Intense. Exquisite.
He moaned and swore and groaned and clenched his fists in the pillows. I just gritted my teeth and attempted to screw him into the bed. The pain and anger I’d been feeling for a day and a half, as well as the frustration and stress that went with my job, dissipated like mist on a warm day. Each thrust drove another demon away, wiped out another bad memory ... and made me feel damn good. I came fast and hard, then held him tightly as he finally climaxed, sobbing his relief.
Afterwards we just sat quietly, him with his back against the top of the bed, me between his thighs, leaning back against his warm chest. It had been a long time since I’d felt so relaxed.
His arms encircled me and I smiled as he kissed the nape of my neck. “Of course, I could never love someone like you,” he whispered. “You’re too serious. Not my type at all.”
“You’ve not exactly been a bundle of laughs yourself,” I replied, my eyes still firmly closed.
“No, I guess I haven’t.” He pressed a cheek to my shoulder and I could feel the warm trickle of a tear as it slipped from his skin to mine. “I miss Ton.”
“You’ve got to go apologize to your wife, Corran. Don’t stay angry at her, don’t let her think you care so little...”
“I will. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”
“You’ll stay the rest of the night?” He actually sounded incredulous.
“Of course. I don’t screw and run.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome. Always glad to help out a fellow pilot.”
“Sure. You’re a real altruist.” He blew out a sigh, tickling my neck. “What are you going to do the next time you fall out with your wife?”
“Don’t know. Try to keep my temper, I guess.”
“You could always give me a call.”
“Probably not such a good idea, Face. Much as I’d love to do this again, I’ve got to stop running from my problems.”
“I didn’t mean that.” His teeth nipped at my shoulder. “I meant I could come over to your place. You two could ... umm ... sort out your differences, and I could keep her bedmates entertained...”
I laughed as I turned to face him. “What if they’re straight?”
“Three of them?!” he replied, eyes wide with mock horror. “How likely is that?”
So cute. “C’mon. We should get some sleep.”
“Yeah.” He leaned in to kiss me.
I kissed him back.
We did get some sleep.
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:54 (eleven years ago) link
"lunch" as a verb, i think he's working at home
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:55 (eleven years ago) link
the idea that not enough has been written about the sopranos is hilarious.
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:56 (eleven years ago) link
Come What May (back to part 1)
Rating - NC-17 (slash!) - underagers and non-slashers... don’t let the door hit your ass as you leave.
Email - ang✧✧✧@yav✧✧✧.free-onl✧✧✧.c✧.u✧ - constructive criticism and general feedback very welcome. Flames laughed at.
Summary - a series of vignettes exploring a relationship between the two greatest X-wing pilots ever. Set during the Original Trilogy.
Disclaimer - Luke, Wedge, and the entire SW galaxy belongs to George. I’m not making any money from this.
Part six - some months after the Battle of Hoth
He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive...
The words whirled through Wedge’s brain over and over, a mantra he didn’t dare stop in case it evaporated and took with it the spark of hope that had kept him sane over the previous few months.
Turning the last corner before the med bay, he almost ran down the diminutive figure striding the opposite way. “Princess! I’m sorry - I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
”Me neither.” She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, the hint of a smile dawning along with recognition. “Wedge? Luke’s been asking for you.”
“He has?” Delight that he hadn’t been forgotten warred with the fear the rumor-mongers had instilled in him over the past few days; days he’d spent fighting stubborn bureaucrats and narrow-minded officers determined to keep him away from the starship that held the man he loved. “How is he?”
A shaky sigh. “What have you heard?”
“Not much. I just got back from a run to Bothawui and no one will tell me anything.” Except for the gossips: Luke deserted; Luke’s in prison; Luke’s dead...
She nodded absent-mindedly, as if trying to choose her words. “Physically, well, I guess he’ll recover. He lost a hand, but he’s been fitted with a prosthetic, and the graft has taken...”
A hand? He lost a hand? Bile rose in his throat; he fought to keep it down and to disguise the shaking that threatened to paralyze him. He realized the princess was still talking.
“But, mentally...” She shrugged her shoulders, her mouth a tight line. “I have no idea.” Their eyes met again, and Wedge experienced a sudden affinity with the young woman he hadn’t felt since one angst-ridden night on Hoth. “He’s hiding something, Wedge. I just know it.”
“Maybe he’ll talk to me.”
“Perhaps.” She laid a slender hand on his arm. “I hope so.”
Luke was alone in the med bay when Wedge walked in, his nose centimeters from the huge transparisteel window that dominated the room. He either ignored or didn’t hear Wedge’s entrance, just kept staring out into space, his gaze directed somewhere beyond his own reflection.
Wedge’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of his erstwhile lover seemingly surrounded by stars, as if he were at the very center of the galaxy itself. He looked like he belonged there; larger than life, unencumbered by mortal constraints. For a long moment, Wedge simply stood and watched, drinking in the scene before him. He’d dreamed of this moment, tried to imagine what he’d do and say if he came face to face with Luke again, but now all his rehearsed conversations fled from his mind and he grappled with words that slithered eel-like out of his grasp. He took a deep breath. “Hi.”
“Wedge?” Luke continued to stare at the star-strewn vista, cradling his right hand carefully in his left. “Wedge.” His voice cracked and he made a tiny choking noise.
In seconds, Wedge was by his side, pulling him in, hugging him as if he didn’t dare let go. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
But Luke’s arms didn’t return the embrace, and when his head lifted from Wedge’s shoulder, his eyes were dry. A tiny smile tugged at his lips but couldn’t quite settle there. “You’re just as I remembered you. You haven’t changed.”
“You have.” He slowly ran his hands up Luke’s arms, outlining tense muscles under the loose robe that tried to conceal them. His hands crept along broadened shoulders and skimmed up Luke’s neck, before finally coming to rest cradling his face. “Do you want to talk?”
Luke’s eyes snapped shut, but not before a glimmer of pain escaped through the lids, raw and intense. Wedge knew that if it wasn’t for the hands that gently held him, Luke would have turned away. Turned away, and perhaps asked him to leave?
“You don’t have to,” Wedge whispered. What could make the normally communicative Luke Skywalker so unbearably reticent? Had they been apart so long that they could no longer talk to each other? He swallowed the hard knot that had formed in his throat; was their relationship a thing of the past? “I just thought...”
The eyes snapped open again, tearing Wedge’s words from his throat. So blue; blue as the sky on Yavin, blue as the seas on Corellia, blue as a stun blast straight to the heart... “I don’t know how much I’m allowed to tell you.”
“Then just tell me the unclassified stuff. Have you been letting Artoo cut your hair again?”
“Oh, Wedge!” The quaver in his voice almost matched the shaking of his body as he finally wrapped his arms around Wedge’s waist and returned the embrace.
Slowly stroking his back, Wedge buried his face in Luke’s hair, reacquainting himself with his unique scent. Okay, so humor worked. Don’t mention the serious stuff, keep the topic light, and we might get somewhere. Diplomacy - how hard could it be?
Wedge couldn’t think of a single question guaranteed to be repercussion free.
“I thought of you a lot, you know.” Luke’s voice came from somewhere around Wedge’s neck. “I missed you.”
Relief flooded through Wedge. Luke still cared about him; whatever kind of relationship they had, it wasn’t over. “I missed you, too.”
A long pause. Finally Luke raised his head, his eyes searching Wedge’s features. “I... my hand...”
“I know,” whispered Wedge. “Leia told me.” His head tilted to one side. “May I...?”
Hesitantly, Luke dropped his arms from their comfortable position around Wedge’s body. Cradling his right hand in his left once more, he slowly raised it, as if for Wedge’s inspection. “It feels... strange,” he murmured. “Like I can control it, but it’s not truly a part of me.”
Wedge carefully took the hand in his own and ran a thumb over the palm’s artificial creases. “It looks good.” The fingers flexed automatically at his touch. He raised his eyes to meet Luke’s, and the air between them seemed to thicken with the obvious unspoken question.
Luke’s gaze dropped first. “I got some other injuries, too. Cuts and bruises, nothing broken...”
“You want to tell me how you lost your hand?”
“I... I’m not sure...”
Wedge caught Luke’s chin between thumb and forefinger and gently tilted his head back up. “Tell me.”
Blue eyes tore into Wedge, eyes that were at once familiar and yet unknown. “It hurts, Wedge.”
“No. My memories.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “It was Vader. I fought Vader, and I lost.”
Incredulity struck him dumb for only a moment. “Darth Vader? You fought Darth Vader? How?”
“My lightsaber. I... we dueled, and he cut off my hand...” Finally the deluge of tears broke through the barriers that had held them in check - real heart-breaking, gut-wrenching tears, loud and seemingly inconsolable.
Fighting his own paralysis, Wedge steered him towards the bed. He’d never seen Luke like this - not after screaming nightmares or friends’ deaths - never. Luke Skywalker was falling apart, and Wedge’s heart was doing the same. Sitting them both down, he wrapped his arms around his friend and held him.
The tears subsided surprisingly quickly and sobbing was replaced by shaky breaths and the occasional sniff.
“What happened, Luke?” Wedge’s words whispered into Luke’s hair. “What did that bastard do to you?”
Another sniff. “I... I don’t...”
“Did he torture you?”
“No. Not physically, anyway.” Luke’s left hand clamped around his right wrist. “Apart from this, of course.” He sighed and wiped his sleeve across his face. “He tried to turn me, to make me like him. A servant of the Emperor. He told me things...”
Wedge’s hands settled once more on Luke’s jaw and turned his face. Blue, tear-filled eyes focused on Wedge; eyes, he suddenly realized, that were looking to him for answers. “No one can ever make you like that, Luke. Not Vader, not the Emperor himself. You are a good person...”
“I have evil inside me, just like everyone else,” whispered Luke. “I get angry, I feel jealousy, I want to avenge...”
“That doesn’t make you evil.”
“But it’s there. And if I give in to it, the Force will still flow through me. But it will be turned against my friends, against all that is good in the galaxy.”
“Then don’t give in. Fight it.”
“I don’t think that’s the answer.” One almost-steady hand rose to caress Wedge’s cheek. “He hurt Leia and Han and Chewie. Hurt them because of me. I don’t think I could bear it if he hurt you.”
“You would have to.” He bent forward and gently kissed him, their lips barely touching. “You’d have to cope, to go on without me, if necessary.”
“I need you, Wedge.”
“And I need you. But so does the Rebellion and the rest of the galaxy, and they matter more than I do.” He silenced Luke’s automatic protest with another kiss. “You’re home now. Safe.”
“Leia needs me. She’s fallen in love with Han, but Vader gave him to a bounty hunter...”
“Leia’s in love with Han?”
Wedge couldn’t suppress a teasing smile. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the jealousy you mentioned earlier, would it?”
“Idiot.” Luke’s answering smile quickly disappeared when he pulled Wedge in for a passionate kiss, their lips and tongues tracing familiar patterns against each other, a private dance of reassurance. When they finally parted, Luke rested his forehead against Wedge’s. “I have to be strong for Leia.”
”Then be strong for her,” whispered Wedge, his finger tracing the cleft in Luke’s chin. “Hold her when she cries, sit with her when she can’t sleep, listen to her when she needs to talk.” His gaze flicked up to meet Luke’s. “Then come back to me and let me be strong for you.”
“You sure you can handle that, Antilles?”
“I’m a Rogue and a Corellian. I can handle anything.”
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:56 (eleven years ago) link
Title: Rising Through the Ranks
Fandom: The Sopranos
Pairing: Tony Soprano/Matt Bevilaqua
Notes: characters from Season Two (no spoilers)
Summary: Tony Soprano gives Matt Bevilaqua a chance to do him a favor.
Rising Through the Ranks
Matt Bevilaqua and his buddy Sean Gismonte were in the Bada-Bing, complaining about how Christopher was using them as his "errand-boys." They were anxious to rise through the ranks in LCN, but so far there had only been shit jobs and not much action.
There were girls in g-strings dancing around on the stage in front of them, but Sean was checking out the men at the bar. Neither of them paid much attention to the girls. Then Tony came into the club and headed to the men's room.
"Hey, Sean! Look who just walked in! It's Tony!"
"No kidding," Sean said. He was engrossed by another young guy on the other side of the Bing.
"He just went to the men's room. Let's go in there."
"You go. I'm staying here."
Matt Bevilaqua walked into the men's room of Bada-Bing. "Hey, Tony, how's it hanging?"
Tony was standing at the urinal, taking a leak. He nodded and grinned. "Hey, what's up?"
Matt stepped up to the urinal next to Tony, unzipped his fly, and pulled out his dick. "Hey, T., did you see that blonde out there? I'd like to break my dick off in her ass."
Tony gave a small grin and a dismissive nod. He finished pissing, tucked his dick back in his boxers, and zipped up his slacks. Matt was still holding his dick, but nothing had started coming out of it yet.
Tony glanced down at Matt's midsection. "So, did you come in here to take a leak, or did you just want to be with me?" Matt was embarrassed, since in fact that was exactly why he had followed Tony into the men's room. Matt gave a short laugh and raised a hand in protest.
"I'm just busting your balls, kid," Tony said, punching him on the shoulder. "Hey, when you're done, come out back and talk to me for a minute."
"Sure, T., anything," Matt said. He zipped up, since he hadn't had to piss anyway.
Matt followed Tony out through the bar, the card room, and outside to the back of the Bing. Tony shut the door behind them, and turned to face Matt. They stood next to the Dumpster, and flies buzzed around. A faint stench of garbage wafted over them.
Tony wasn't grinning now. He put one hand on the outside wall of the Bing, and leaned close to Matt's face. Matt looked up expectantly, ready to do anything to get on the good side of Tony Soprano.
"Look, kid, I wanna ask you something."
"Sure, Tony, anything!"
"Look, this has got to stay strictly between the two of us, got it?"
"Got it, T., no problem!"
Tony leaned in closer. "So you and your buddy-- what's his name?"
"That's Sean! You know, we're really looking forward to working for you--"
"Right," Tony cut him off. "So, do you and him...? You know." He gestured with one hand in circles as if to finish the sentence.
"What do you mean?"
Tony raised his eyebrows and exhaled. He glanced over to the closed door, and looked around. They were alone. "I mean, do you guys... make each others happy?"
"Well, yeah, we're best friends."
"No... look." Tony glanced around again. "I mean, do you cop each others joints?"
A lump rose in Matt's throat, and his voice came out in a squeak. "No way, we don't do that shit." He gave a nervous laugh. "I'm strictly into pussy."
"Come on. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Have you sucked his cock before? Has he sucked yours?"
Now Matt looked around, hoping someone would rescue him. He knew Tony was going to be pissed off if he found out that a couple of fanooks had served at the executive card game.
"Come on, I wanna hear you say it," Tony pressured him.
Matt was about to cry. His throat was tight. He was sure Tony had someone spy on him and Sean. If he lied, Tony might fuck him up even worse. Either way, he could probably kiss his chances of rising through the ranks goodbye. He looked down and nodded his head.
"Look, Matt, like I said, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I sort of suspected it with you two, but I just wanted to know for sure. Take it easy, buddy." Tony clapped Matt's shoulder, and left his hand resting there. "Listen, why don't we go for a ride together. How does that sound?"
Matt nodded, the lump in his throat made him afraid that if he spoke, he would start crying. He had a suspicion he wouldn't be coming back.
Tony guided Matt around to the parking lot where his SUV was parked, his hand still on Matt's shoulder. Matt thought about asking to say "bye" to Sean, but then thought better of it.
Tony drove Matt to a motel; not the one he had a stake in that was run by the Hasidim, but a tourist stopover far down the coast. He parked out of sight of the registration office. "Wait here," Tony said, and got out of the car to check in.
Tony came back to the SUV and drove around to their room at the far end of the parking lot. The place was deserted. Tony opened the room with a brass colored key attached to a green plastic tag that had the name of the motel in white letters, "Sea & Surf."
A queen size bed took up most of the small room. There was a TV on a battered dresser.
"Have a seat," Tony said to Matt. The bed was the only place to sit, so Matt sat on it, near the pillows, with his feet hanging off the edge. "Go ahead, take your shoes off, put your feet up, make yourself comfortable," Tony said.
Tony sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the remote control. His cock had been twitching the whole way up here. This Bevilaqua kid was so young, so smooth, and the eager way he tried to get near Tony and please him had gotten his attention. He'd used fantasies about Matt just to help him get a hard-on with Carmela, and even with his goomah, Rina. He ordered an adult movie using the remote control, then turned to Matt, who was stretched out on the bed now.
He pointed a fat finger at Matt. "Listen, what happens here, stays here. I'm dead serious about this. You're a nice kid, but if it gets around that Tony Soprano swings both ways--" he gestured with his hands back and forth for emphasis "--you're dead. And there will be no second chances. Capiche?" Matt nodded. He still looked scared to death. "OK, now that we've got that out of the way," Tony continued, "let's get down to business."
Tony scootched over the bed to Matt, and loosened Matt's belt. He slid Matt's slacks off. Matt was wearing maroon colored Jockey briefs. Tony laid his face against the front of Matt's briefs,
sniffing and feeling the warmth radiating from under the cloth. The kid was still limp, probably because he was still scared.
"I'm going to take care of you first, then you're going to take care of me," Tony said. "Sound good?" Matt nodded, looking amazed.
Tony put his mouth over Matt's cock, which was still encased in the Jockeys. He blew warm breath through the cloth of the underwear. Then he pulled down the underpants to Matt's thighs, and took Matt's balls into his mouth. He gently sucked first one, then the other, then flicked his tongue back and forth between the two. Then ran his tongue up from Matt's ball sack to the base of his dick, then licked slowly up the shaft. Tony glanced up, and saw that Matt had closed his eyes and was leaning his head back. Matt moaned as Tony took the head of his cock into his mouth and twirled his tongue around the head. Then he plunged down, taking the whole thing into his throat, and started sucking gently and bobbing up and down. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," Matt said, then "I'm gonna blow, oh T., I'm gonna come!" Then his dick exploded, sending stream after stream of come down the back of Tony's throat.
Tony swallowed Matt's load, then slid his mouth off his dick, gently sucking it clean. His own dick had gotten hard as a rock as he had sucked off this young stud. What was the saying.... "young, dumb, and full of come." It was true in this case. Tony grinned. "My turn," he said.
Tony scootched up to the head of the bed. He hadn't even taken off his shoes, he had been in such a hurry to get his mouth around Matt's cock. He kicked his shoes off, unbuckled his belt, and pulled his pants and boxers off and tossed them on the dresser. Matt had sat up, and was looking like he was trying to catch his breath and figure out what had happened to him. Tony grabbed Matt by the ears and pulled him down to his midsection. "Now you take what I give
you, and enjoy it, punk."
Tony's dick was fat and long. Matt gagged as he took it into his mouth, but Tony kept a hold on his ears and jerked his head up and down relentlessly. "That's it, you suck your Uncle Tony's big cock. You suck my dick, you dirty fanook." He pulled Matt's head all the way down, so his nose was jammed against Tony's pubic mound. Tony felt his dickhead straining against the back of Matt's throat. Matt started squealing and tried to pull his head up, but Tony kept his head down with an iron grip. Tony felt his face twist into a grimace. He felt the come rising up through his cock, then spurt deep into Matt's throat. Tony grinned and relaxed his hold on Matt's head.
As they were pulling their pants back on, Tony tossed Matt a wad of bills, two thousand dollars. "What's this?" Matt said.
"Now, I'm not going to pay you every time we do this, and I don't want you to feel like I'm treating you like a whore or anything," Tony grinned at his private joke, "but that's just a little
something to show my appreciation." Tony dropped the grin. "But I'm dead fucking serious about keeping this to yourself."
"Absolutely," Matt said.
Tony relaxed. "Maybe we'll get your buddy Sean to join us sometime."
"Oh, man, T., I can't tell you how cool that would be!" Matt's eyes lit up at the thought.
"But next time, it's just going to be the two of us. Because next time, I'm going to have your ass."
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:57 (eleven years ago) link
omg latebloomer wins
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:58 (eleven years ago) link
No, but if were to reduce both sci-fi and wrestling down to their base level, you'd have the blue-eye versus the invader, yes?
Not neccessarily. Can't speak for the finer intricacies of wrestling, but if you look at SF's inception period, for every War of the Worlds there were several books of exploration and curiosity such as 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Journey to the Centre of the Earth (The Time machine is kinda halfway between the two). And there's a case to be made for the first SF novel being Frankenstein, which is about hubris (a common theme to this day).
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:59 (eleven years ago) link
And hubris isn't an ongoing theme in pro-wrestling?
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:00 (eleven years ago) link
Ongoing theme? They've recycled that Mr. McMahon storyline for ten fucking years now.
― King Boy Pato, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:06 (eleven years ago) link
Why isn't there any Rocky Horror slash?
― snoball, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:06 (eleven years ago) link
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:07 (eleven years ago) link
"I just don’t know what to do," Jesse said frankly. "I want to help him, but I never know what to say; I’m going through the same thing, but…"
"But not in the same way," Joey finished for him, nodding understandingly. "Pam was your sister, Jess. It was hard for all of us, and I don’t think it was any less hard for you."
"I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style.
Joey sucked up the last bit of his chocolate milk shake and leaned back against his end of the diner booth. "I know what you mean, buddy." He twisted his recently employed plastic straw around and around his strong hand. "What Danny and Pam had was really special…and it’s horrible what happened, but at least he experienced that kind of love, you know?"
"Yeah," Jesse said, "just once, I’d like to feel that for someone."
They fell silent after that, just staring at each other. Joey had been such a comfort to Jesse over the last few months, Jesse reflected. How would I have managed without him? he wondered.
Across the table, Joey was wondering much the same thing. They pretended to antagonize each other, but really, it was all in good fun. They would not have survived had it not been for that firm friendship that had been established back in high school.
"You know," Jesse said slowly after a minute, "in a way, I sort of feel that way about you. I mean—not that I would want to go out with you or anything, but that I can always rely on you."
Joey cupped his soft chin in his hands. "It’s true," he agreed; "I’ve never had with a woman what Danny and Pam used to have, but I’ve always felt a certain amount of…affection for you."
Both chuckled and fell silent again, contented with each other. Then, without warning, each of them knew—at the same moment—that the man across from him was thinking the exact same thing. Jesse started into his friend’s deep, blue eyes, and saw the same passion, the same smoldering need, that he knew he himself was feeling.
"I—" he said, but Joey cut him off, moving a large finger to his suddenly moist lips.
"I know," he said.
Without a word, Joey rose and made his way nonchalantly to the men’s room. Jesse waited five minutes, taking the time to polish off his half-eaten banana split; then, his hands shaking with an anticipation he knew he hadn’t felt in years, left a few dollars on the table and followed his friend to the back of the restaurant.
When he entered the one-person restroom after knocking softly, he was nervous. The light had been switched off, and even though he had heard his friend summon him into the room, he was suddenly afraid that there had been some horrible mistake—that, perhaps, Joey was not there at all, that Jesse had imagined the whole thing. That he was just going insane with unsatisfied lust.
He relaxed, though, when Joey said softly, "Turn on the lights." Jesse let his leather Elvis jacket fall to the floor and obediently flicked the switch after fumbling for a few moments against the papered wall (his hands were still trembling, now with excitement rather than anxiety).
"Oh," he couldn’t help ejaculating softly, when the fluorescent overhead lamp flickered on. What he saw in front of him made his heart swell with firey, choking love; made his manhood grow large and stiff and strain against his tight, black jeans.
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:09 (eleven years ago) link
dom do you also hate horror movies and stories? it basically does what science fiction does, without technology as a motivating factor
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:18 (eleven years ago) link
Do you ever wish you could just forget everything, even just for a few seconds? That you could just snap your fingers, or close your eyes, or maybe tap your heels together three times and mumble “There’s no place like home,” and all your problems would vanish. Or maybe you wish you had some sort of potion, and when you drank it all the stupid stuff just wouldn’t matter anymore.
Well, I know how to do it. It’s easy really—just like magic. Magic dust. All you have to do is keep a little in your pocket with you, and when the going gets rough, puff a little down, and PRESTO! You’re amazing, you’re incredible. Everyone loves you—your pill-popping mom, your clueless dad, your geeky brother…even that crabby old guy who runs the newspaper stand, and the homeless guy who’s pants are always pissed when you pass him in the morning. The magic just makes you invincible.
Yeah, that’s the great thing about heroin.
“Will, it’s already 70 degrees outside—you’ll burn up!” Vivian shouted from the kitchen. Will, in a jeans and a plain black, long-sleeve shirt grimaced, and shot back, “I’ll be fine Aunt Viv,” as he let the front door bang shut behind him. Parents. Always trying to give advice when he didn’t need it.
Between the walk from his house to the car (where Carlton was waiting), the sweat started to bead on his forehead. He wiped crossly at it with a sleeve, and nearly jogged the rest of the way across the lawn. As soon as the car door was slammed shut behind Will, Carlton hit the gas—that boy wouldn’t have speeded if his life depended on it, but there was no way he was going to be late for school because of his lousy cousin again.
Man oh man when is this class gonna end….
Will’s eyes jumped to the clock again, where the time was precisely ten seconds later than it had been the last time he’d looked. It was hard enough to focus on anything, let alone the stupid teacher up front gabbing away. The room felt tight, stuffy, overcrowded, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe—as if each time he took a breath, the air around him crushed in his chest a little more. He squeezed his eyes shut, and jammed his forehead against his the heel of his hand, trying to calm down before he ended up hyperventilating. It sort of worked, especially if he let his lips mumble silently while he did it.
When the bell rang, all he wanted to do was bolt straight out of the classroom. Instead, the teacher, Mr. Wagner, called him up to the front. Carlton exited the classroom with the other students, but paused outside the door, only a little worried; Will got in trouble with the teachers all the time.
When Will reached the teacher’s desk, he braced his hands apart on his side of it, and leaned over. It looked like typical confident, cool-boy behavior, but all Will wanted to do was keep from flipping out.
“Are you alright, Mr. Smith?”
“Fine,” he managed to get out, feeling his insides start to clam up a little at the question instead of the usual reprimand.
“Are you sure, Will?”
He made the mistake of looking up into Mr. Wagner’s eyes, which were both serious and troubled. Will gave a slight nod and forced out a, “Yeah,” before he dropped his gaze, then hurried out of the room.
“Will—” Carlton started when his cousin exited the classroom. “Not now Carlton,” Will replied shortly, starting to try to push past him. Suddenly Jazz, sporting a grin and a second-hand leather jacket, slid a thin arm around Will shoulder—and between him and Carlton. When he caught sight of Will’s face, he grimaced. “You look bad, my man. Don’t worry—I got the cure.” And with that, Carlton watched Jazz lead a very relieved Will away.
As Will was leaning foreword to open the car on the passenger’s side of the car, a girl came running across the front lawn of the school, catching his elbow in a dainty hand. “Will,” she nearly gasped, out of breath, “Will, I was wondering…since it’s a Friday night and all…well, I know they’re not your absolute favorite band, but the Boyz 2 Men are playing down at the The Club tonight…”
Carlton smiled—Caitlyn, Will’s girlfriend of two weeks, was by far the nicest of the ones Carlton had had the “privilege” of meeting in a while, and while she didn’t know it, Will loved Boyz 2 Men.
“Look, I’m sorry Cait; I can’t,” Will told her, without even looking up, before he opened the door and climbed in. Caitlyn struggled to hide her disappointment, even as Will told her, only semi-apologetically, “I’ll call you this weekend.” Carlton sat in shock for a minute, but when he realized Will wasn’t going to tell the girl anything else, he started home.
Carlton came downstairs, and couldn’t stop a frown; Will was sprawled across the entire couch, flipping channels on the TV, an untouched bowl of cheetos on the coffee table in front of him. His cousin, the party animal, home on a Friday night? When he’d turned down that girl for a third weekend in a row, Carlton had figured he’d had something crazy already planned, so this was a bit worrisome. Not to mention annoying; he’d wanted to watch Oprah.
“Hey,” he tried.
“So, uh…what’re you doing home?”
“I mean, why aren’t you…you know, out?”
Will grunted, and Carlton came to sit on the armrest of couch on the side Will’s head was on.
“So you turned Caitlyn down yet again to stay at home and watch television?”
“Yeah, it looks like it.” There was an unpleasantly sarcastic edge on his voice when he said it.
“You know…” Carlton hesitated, not sure how to point out that his cousin was being a dick without actually calling him one. “That’s not really very…nice.”
This time, Will tilted his head back to look at him with the ‘you’re a midget’ look that Carlton hated so much, and shrugged his shoulder’s a bit, before turning back to the TV screen. “I just didn’t feel like going to the movies with her.”
Carlton nodded, and sat on the edge of couch a bit longer, before getting up and heading for his room. But he couldn’t get it out of his head—it wasn’t Will’s answer that was bothering him, but the way his eyes had looked when he’d said it.
Carlton had really started to worry. Not full-blown panic or anything—but he knew that Vivian was picking up on something too, when she asked Carlton, “Is everything alright with you and Will?” Carlton has given her an honest answer; “I think so.” But with each day, he was a little less sure. Will had broken it off with Caitlyn, which wasn’t so unusual, but as far as Carlton knew he hadn’t even hooked up with anyone since—at least, not anyone that anybody knew about. He showed up less and less often to get rides home from Carlton and he often came home long after everyone was asleep.
Naturally, Carlton had assumed that Vivian would bring it up with him—but she hadn’t. In fact, it seemed that she was just as happy not knowing what was going on, as long as Will was in the door by the time she was awake. She hadn’t really seemed herself lately, either—she was always tired, and seemed out of it; Carlton found he had a hard time carrying on a conversation with her on several occasions. But when he’d asked his dad, he’d told him not to worry about it; she was going through a bit of a rough time, but he had it all taken care of.
Carlton glanced at the clock—11:37 and sighed, before climbing the stairs to his room, where he couldn’t stop from glancing over at the other empty bed.
Uncle Phil heard the front door creak open, and then the soft foot-steps of his step-son sneaking in. He flipped the lamp on, and Will froze, looking like a deer in the headlights.
“Well. You’re home early,” Uncle Phil commented, standing to move towards Will, who wasn’t sure how to respond, and just stood there.
“Look, Will—“ the boy had started moving again, carefully unlacing his shoes as if he couldn’t hear Uncle Phil— “You can’t keep doing this, It’s not fair to your Aunt Vivian, or me. We worry—“ Will hung his jacket on the banister— “about you. So,” Uncle Phil drew himself up; he wasn’t used to trying to be the law enforcement figure of the house, but since nobody else seemed up to it… “You need to start being home at seven on school nights, and ten on the weekends—no more nights out.” Will, selective-hearing in tow, walked right by him and up the steps, causing Uncle Phil to falter on what he was about to say next. He stood still at the bottom of the steps until he heard the door to Will’s room click shut.
Carlton tried to interest himself in the TV; it was six o’clock and Will hadn’t been home for over twenty-four hours. Uncle Phil would be home any minute, and then Carlton was sure, they’d be calling the police. If Vivian hadn’t been a zombie at this point, Carlton was sure that would have happened long before. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Carlton looked up—then felt his temper flare when he saw who it was. Will Smith, and a pretty messed up as well.
“Mom! Will’s home!”
Vivian rushed in from the other room and wrapped her son up in a hug, saying over and over again things like, “Honey I was so worried,” and “I love you so much Will, don’t ever do that to me again,” and Carlton tensed, waiting for the explosion—but it never came. Instead, she said softly, “You look pretty bad. Why don’t you go up to your room, and get some sleep.” Will offered her a weak smile, and stumbled away up the steps towards his room.
Vivian retreated to the kitchen to nurse a cup of coffee.
Carlton couldn’t take it anymore—he could feel the anger rising in him like he’d never felt before. He stormed up the steps and down the hall, grabbed the handle and threw the door open to the room he and Will shared and—stopped short in disbelief.
Will was on his bed, one sleeve rolled up to his shoulder, a badly tied tourniquet tied around that bicep. One hand steadied the other at the elbow, and the blue veins of his arm bulged sickeningly. He was trying to get the needle to stick but his sides were shaking as he alternated between dry heaving and silent sobs, and he kept missing. Bruised, spidery tract marks wound down his arms. The spit and snot was dribbling down his chin.
The boy didn’t even look up, just kept trying to shoot up, as he heaved out, “I c-can’t do it, Carlton. I can’t and I-I—“ he wiped at his nose with his arm, “I tried but I…”
Carlton had moved to his side, and sat on the bed next to him, resting a hand on his cousin’s back. “Shhh, Will. It’s ok. I’m here.”
But Will cut in with another sob—“I mess up so much—so badly and—I hate—hate—“
Carlton rubbed a circle on Will’s back as he replied soothingly, “No, Will. I love you. We all love you, no matter what you do. We’re gonna help you.”
More tears poured from Will’s eyes and Carlton fought back his own, before he felt something warm and looked down; Will’s arm had begun to bleed. He reached for the needle and Will’s expression grew frightened. “Carlton—I need it—I need this—don’t—“ But Carlton calmed him with more shushing, before he gently took the needle away, then stretched out Will’s arm further, before easily sliding the needle into a vein. “Will,” he said quietly, starting to push the plunger down, “you can have it. But you have to promise that after…after this, we’ll talk to mom and dad. Together. And we’ll get you help, ok?”
Will managed a slight nod, before his eyes slipped closed and he let the heroin flood his system.
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:18 (eleven years ago) link
I've been reading SF!
― the pinefox, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:19 (eleven years ago) link
very few s.f. stories i can think of are about "good vs evil" actually, they're usually about the dread and anxiety produced by changing technology
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:19 (eleven years ago) link
c&ping guaranteed to improve any thread
― DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:23 (eleven years ago) link
HOW ALF GOT LUCKY
One day Lia (ME) went for a walk in the park to see the site of the finest man she had ever laid her sexy eyes on. IT WAS THE HOTTEST GUY EVER! She watched as he walked around the park, his sexy hair blowing in the wind. She became hot seeing his face glance her way. His long pointed nose was the site of pleasure as he pointed it her way. His big hairy body was the body of a man, and was erotic to even view. IT WAS ALF! He stood only feet away from Lia, and began to step closer, his big hairy feet making her heart throb with every step. Slowly, he stood before her, and looked down at her awesome boobies.
" I like you titties" ALF suddenly blurted.
" These old things?" Lia nervously responded, showing it to ALF
"I would like to lick your titty please" ALF asked with a cocked head.
Lia reached out for ALF's big hairy body, and guided the sexy alien to her house off the lake.
She lead ALF in, and offered him a titty. He cheerfully accepted. You see ALF had never experienced a real titty like that, he wanted full on titty love, and his past relationship didn't offer that.
ALF slowly put his large hand over the titty, and began to squeeze. ALF HOWLED to the sky as he felt such pleasure. Lia, who became aroused by such a reaction, lead ALF to her room to make a baby ALFY.
9 MONTHS LATER-
ALFY ALF ALIEN JR. was born to the proud parents. ALF even used the titty during nursing time. ALF had never loved anything as much as those titties, well accept his baby ALFY. The two lived happily ever after in their alien ALF world, and had many more baby ALF'S.
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:25 (eleven years ago) link
-- DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:23 (1 minute ago) Bookmark Link
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:25 (eleven years ago) link
I LIKE YOU, TITTIES
― HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:32 (eleven years ago) link
haha most predictable quoting-of-thing-posted-to-ilx ever :D
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:33 (eleven years ago) link
― HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:34 (eleven years ago) link
I quite like some sci-fi.
― Scik Mouthy, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:40 (eleven years ago) link
Wait Buffy is sci-fi?
― Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:42 (eleven years ago) link
stop stop yr taking this thread seriously
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:43 (eleven years ago) link
My c+p'ing of Lily Allen and Phil Collins erotic fan fiction was much better. You kids are amateurs.
― King Boy Pato, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:43 (eleven years ago) link
TS: Phil Collins erotic fiction vs ALF erotic fiction
― HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:45 (eleven years ago) link
^^^ only time you'll see "Phil Collins" and "erotic" in the same sentence, although to be fair the sentence also contains the word "fiction".
― snoball, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:47 (eleven years ago) link
my god it's full of slash
― elmo argonaut, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:47 (eleven years ago) link
In the above story, ALF is played by Har Mar Superstar in a fursuit.
― snoball, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:48 (eleven years ago) link
― Raw Patrick, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:49 (eleven years ago) link
lol Har Mar Superstar
― HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:51 (eleven years ago) link
― Pashmina, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:03 (eleven years ago) link
...all of this.
"Cut it da fuck out!" Shaggy's annoyance only increased when Jay responded with manic laughter. He'd been working on some final mixes for F.T.F.O., and for no real reason, Jay'd wandered in and started playfully slapping him upside his shaved head. Every few minutes, smack. Smack. Smack. At first Shaggy tried to ignore it, but the more it happened, the harder Jay hit, and the more aggrivated he got.
"I fuckin' mean it Joe, one more time an' I'ma--" Smack. Laugh. He lost it.
Jumping up from his chair, Shaggy grabbed Jay's wrists and lifted them over his head. Using his momentum he slammed the other man backwards against the wall of the production booth, rattling their gold and platinum records in their frames. Jay still grinned, his green eyes alight with mischief, despite Shaggy's fuming. The combined stress of trying to finish the album and Jay's puckish ploys for attention left him needing release, in more ways than one. His wife had taken their children out of town on vacation a week ago, and he'd been left with nothing but his hand and wicked fantasies. Jay was giving him an excuse to do something else to satiate his cravings.
A damn good excuse.
He glared into those beckoning eyes for a split-second more before something like a snarl sounded from deep in his chest, and his lips made ferocious contact with Jay's. He pressed up close, his sudden erection digging into Jay's hip. Jay grunted his surprise and arousal, and responded to Shaggy's thrusting in kind. Soon Jay's hands were again free, with one at the back of Shaggy's head and the other around his cock. With each stroke he felt the other man's knees buckle just a little more, and so reversed their positions, giving Shaggy the support of the wall. As they turned, the kiss broke, allowing Jay to take in Shaggy's look of both relief and ecstasy; His eyes squeezed shut, mouth just slightly open, sweat beads along his hair line, all familiar but no less exhilirating.
"Thank you, thank you," Shaggy started to whisper, his fingernails clawing at the wall behind him. A sly chuckle accompanied Jay's response.
"I know you, I know ya need a li'l sum'in'." Shaggy could only nod in agreement, his breath too shallow for words as Jay leaned in again to lightly scrape his teeth against Shaggy's neck. His fingers left the wall then in favor of Jay's back, grasping at the fabric preventing their skin from connecting. As he silently cursed the clothing, a further appetite abruptly came to him. He swallowed hard before attempting to speak, and still his gasps for air impeded him.
"Mmm?" came the acknowledgement from near his jugular.
"You remember..." He panted twice. "Dat time..." And again. "After da shoot? At my old place?" He licked his lips, his breath coming a bit easier as the notion crept closer to the surface.
"MMmmm..." This moaning reply made evident not only that Jay remembered, but also that he relished the event. Shaggy forced his body to stop short its undulation, clamped the sides of Jay's head with his hands and brought the other man's ear to his lips, his voice naught but a raspy whisper.
"Do it again."
Jay gasped, shivered, moaned again before clutching Shaggy's waistband and dragging it hurridly to the floor, leaving Shaggy's lower body exposed. He stayed on his knees there for a brief moment, as if in worship of the flesh before him. He teasingly dragged his tongue along Shaggy's length on his way back up, giving his partner cause to bite his lower lip and groan. Jay then worked quickly to free his own erection, spitting into his hand to lubricate himself. The two locked eyes as Jay's hands slipped around the cradle Shaggy's ass, and Shaggy's wrapped around Jay's neck. A look of, "Ready?" was answered with one of, "God yes!" Jay's biceps flexed as he lifted another's body weight, and slacked as he gently lowered that weight onto his cock.
Shaggy's jaw hit the floor and he gasped, his blue eyes going wide before rolling back into his skull. Gravity forced Jay deep inside him, as deep as he'd been at his orgasm the last time. He shuddered and collapsed forward, resting his head on Jay's shoulder. Jay turned his head just slightly to nip at Shaggy's neck again, and began slowly rolling his hips forward and back, sandwiching Shaggy tighter against the wall. He felt the other man's shaft jump and twitch against his stomach with each advance, and wished he had a free hand to wrap around it. He conceded instead to pumping a little harder, a little faster, leaning his head back in a moan when Shaggy took a cue from him and dug his teeth into Jay's flesh.
The wall behind him didn't stay cool for long as Shaggy's back was pushed closer against it each moment that passed. He'd remembered the filled feeling, but no memory could compare with the experience. He drowned in every sensation, every stimulation of sight, sound, taste and touch. This was exactly what he'd needed, what he'd craved, to forget about the album and the lonely nights for a while. He knew Jay had known that, and that it was the reason behind the earlier provocations. He leaned his head back against the wall, wanting to let Jay watch his face as they pleasured each other.
The pumping of Jay's hips made a delicious, dull thump against the wall, not unlike a bass beat. Seeing Shaggy in this rapture again made climax difficult to resist, and he told him so. Eyes still closed, Shaggy nodded and dropped his right hand from Jay's neck to his rigidness pressed between them. Jay's eyes followed, and his breath grew even more shallow as he watched the playing card suits on Shaggy's knuckles begin to blur as his hand stroked faster and faster. Buried deep inside he jumped, and Shaggy involuntarily bucked, putting on increased pressure. Jay felt dizzy, close.
"Joey..." he whispered
"Oh fuck yeah," came the response through clenched teeth.
A few more thrusts, furious strokes, failed attempts to muffle their cries, and both men reached their limits. Their entire bodies tensed, every muscle clenching and releasing at a frenzy pace. It hadn't happened since their first encounter that they orgasmed simultanously, and the sheer bliss of each other enwrapped them both.
Their lungs desperate for air and skin slick with sweat, Jay managed to lift Shaggy up and off, despite his still trembling arms, and finally let his feet touch the floor again. His legs began to collapse under him then, and he leaned against Shaggy for support. After regaining himself, he stood again, grinning.
"Thought you coulda used a break," he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Shaggy laughed, bending down to retrieve his pants.
"You know me too well."
After some small talk and a little discussion about the album's progress, Jay said he needed to be on his way. He opened the door of the booth, only to find Madrox and Monoxide standing there, slightly flushed and trying unsuccessfully to avoid Jay's glance. He stopped and looked at them, unable to counter the smirk creeping onto his face.
"How long y'all been there?" He asked casually. The blush on both of the other men deepened.
"Long enough," Monoxide blurted out. Madrox smacked his arm and gave him a look. Jay only chuckled.
"Well," he said, shrugging and starting to walk away, "Have ta get dem creative juices goin' somehow."
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:10 (eleven years ago) link
It was just after his first live show. James Lowery, otherwise known as Anybody Killa, walked backstage alone. He'd been bombarded by 'los and 'lettes, asking about his new solo album that was due out. It felt good to know too that he had fans apart from his work with Dark Lotus. The other Petals had since gotten into the back, cleaned up, and headed out to a local club for their own wicked brand of mischeif-making. They'd told him where they were going so he didn't mind being the last to leave.
The backstage bathroom was dim and smokey. Smears of black and white face paint covered the counters, suds were gradually dissolving in the sinks, the smell of sweat, cigarettes, and soap filled the air. Killa stood facing the long mirror and took a deep breath, running his hands over his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an orange glow, like the cherry on a cigarette. He turned around just as a puff of smoke floated out from the furthest, darkest stall. Still smoldering, the cigarette butt came flying out onto the floor. Killa stared into the darkness, straining to see who was there. He heard shuffling, and the figure stepped into the light.
"Aw damn, Shaggs, I almost jumped outta my skin!" Shaggy chuckled, stomping out the cigarette. "Why ain't you out wit da rest o'da boys?"
His hands casually in his pockets, Shaggy's blue eyes ran slowly up and down Killa's form. He licked his lips slightly and chuckled again. "Wanted ta wait for ya, Jame."
Killa wondered why Shaggy was acting so strange, but didn't want to make a thing out of it. Instead he just shrugged. "A'ight, coo' den." He turned to wash the make-up off his face when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He froze as Shaggy pressed close behind him. The deep voice rumbled softly right in his ear, "Don't do that."
Killa swallowed hard as he noticed something equally hard was digging into his ass. He tried to lock eyes with his reflection, but Shaggy's penetrating stare was irresistable. "Why not?" He couldn't manage anything above a whisper. Shaggy turned the younger man around slowly, and forcefully took his chin in his hand. His voice stayed low, and his blue eyes intensified.
"Cuz I wanna see dem skeleton teeth on my dick when you're done." Shaggy put both hands on Killa's shoulders and forced him to his knees. His dark eyes were huge with surprise and apprehension. Shaggy's left hand found its way way to the back of Killa's head, the right stroked his cheek. "Go on, take it out," he whispered as he nodded toward the bulge in his pants. Killa was trembling.
"Sh-Shaggy," he stuttered. Swallowed. "Joey, man, I--"
"Shut the fuck up, Jamie." Shaggy's voice was still soft even through the aggressive words. "You wanna be down, dontcha?" A half smile crossed his lips.
Killa nodded and bowed his gaze to Shaggy's crotch. He lifted a shaking hand to the button and zipper. Shaggy gasped as the metal teeth spread open, and let out a soft grunt as the other man pulled his hard cock past his boxers.
Nervously licking his lips left the taste of face paint in Killa's mouth, and he looked up at Shaggy again. The sight of those dark Native eyes peering up at him, the indirect angle and black make-up surrounding them only making them seem bigger, gave Shaggy a rush and cause to shiver. "Mm, yeah," he growled out. Petting the back of Killa's head, he encouraged the younger man to begin the act. "Go on, Jamie, grab da mic and lay dat shit down."
Unable to counter the sudden pressure on the back of his head, Killa found Shaggy's cock butting against the back of his throat, and was instantly greatful he had no gag reflex. He sniffled and let out a muffled grunt, sending vibrations through the shaft in his mouth. Shaggy sharply took in his breath, leaned back his head and moaned through clenched teeth. "Start suckin', Jamie." Clamping his hands on both sides of Killa's head, he forced him to bob back and forth. "Keep up dat hummin' too."
Killa obeyed. He relaxed his neck to give Shaggy more control. At first he tried not to think about what was happening, tried to let his own humming become a mantra so he could trance out and drift away from reality. But always working their way in were Shaggy's moans and sharp hisses, the feel of the hard pulsating shaft sliding between his lips, the mingled taste of face paint and pre-cum. Killa found himself inexplicably focused on those elements of the act, and his hums became less of a flat drone and more guttural enthusiastic expressions of pleasure.
With a tentative hand, he slid up Shaggy's leg, squeezing and groping his thigh. "Ooh fuck yeah," came Shaggy's approval, and Killa took his cue. He trailed his hand around to the other man's inner thigh, slowly and lightly dragging his fingers higher. Goosebumps popped up all over Shaggy's flesh and he shuddered with a moan from deep in his chest. Finally Killa's hand reached its destination, and fondled Shaggy's balls through two layers of fabric.
A long drawn out groan escaped the older man's lips as he dropped one hand to his side and slid the other one again around to the back of Killa's head. Leaning his torso back he got a better view, and the sight made his cock twitch in Killa's mouth. This gave the man on his knees cause to chuckle and pull away, dragging his tongue along the underside of the shaft. He even lapped up the droplet of pre-cum when he came to the head.
Shaggy let out a deep breath and grinned at Killa, who let his hand fall back to his own thigh. From his aerial view, Shaggy could see that he wasn't the only one enjoying the encounter. "You likin' that meat?" he asked with a chuckle, nudging Killa's erection with his foot. Killa's eyes snapped shut and he bit his lower lip, grunted and nodded. "What the fuck you stoppin' for then?"
Killa looked up with just his eyes again, looking just like a grinning skull. Shaggy growled as he leaned forward, his eyes rolling back when he felt the wet heat of Killa's mouth around him again. Even better, Killa was taking on his role, holding Shaggy at the base and pumping his head back and forth without assistance.
Gradually faster and faster he bobbed his head, sucking so hard his cheeks hollowed, only adding to the skeleton look of his face. Every time his deep brown eyes locked with the steel blue of Shaggy's, both men felt a renewed surge of intensity and excitement. Their groans of pleasure and slick sucking sounds echoed off the bathroom walls, enveloping the two men in another world wholly inhabited by intense pleasure bordering on sensory overload. Neither was sure how much time had passed, but gradually Shaggy felt his climax building and brought his hand back to Killa's face.
"Jamie," he managed, breathless. "I'm gonna bust it, take me all in." Killa let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and slid Shaggy once more to the back of his throat, still sucking hard and pressing his tongue against the hard length. With a few final grunts and thrusts of his hips, Shaggy exploded in Killa's mouth, thick hot ropes of his juice spilling out as Killa himself released in his pants.
Panting, Shaggy pulled away. "Don't swallow yet, Jame, hold up." He stumbled back to the furthest stall, rummaged in the pocket of the coat he'd left there, and returned to the younger man with a bottle of orange Faygo. "Open," he instructed while uncapping it. Killa leaned his head back and opened wide. He was showered with the sweet fizzing liquid and gulped down all he could catch.
When the bottle was empty, Shaggy threw it to the floor, grinning like the mad klown he was. He grabbed his softening cock and examined it. "Yeah, dat's da shit right there." He showed Killa the prints his make-up had left, and both of them came down off the sexual high with a laugh. Killa stood, washed off his face and changed clothes. Shaggy merely wiped the sweat off his face and tucked his cock away without cleaning off the grease paint.
As the two stepped outside to go join the other Petals, Killa couldn't help himself. "So, how was I?" he asked as casually as he could manage. Shaggy took a long slow drag off his cigarette and answered as he let out the smoke. "Best since Madrox." Killa stopped short without realizing it, and had to trot to catch up with his companion once he snapped back to reality.
When they finally met up with the others, they all had a kind of knowing glint in their eyes. Jay was the only one to speak up though, playing dumb and asking where the fuck the two of them had been. Shaggy slapped Killa on the back and said, "Had us a little initiation." He had a smile on his face almost like a proud father. He gestured to the waitress to bring a round of drinks, and the five other men raised their glasses to Anybody Killa. Jay made the toast, "Welcome to the Lotus Pod, mutha facko!"
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:11 (eleven years ago) link
I get the feeling this thread isn't being treated with the gravitas it merits.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:16 (eleven years ago) link
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:17 (eleven years ago) link
Eight months passed and Melody stayed and made herself at home in MacGyver’s house. They had decided to wait until after the baby was born for her to find a job and a place. MacGyver made sure she gained weight and regularly went to the doctor’s. Melody felt cared for, for the first time in years. They continued to share a bed because no one would let the other one sleep on the couch. They acted more and more like a married couple everyday. Pete even teased them, asking when they were getting hitched. That always embarrassed them because they both had feelings for the other that went unsaid. Then one night after Pete had left, MacGyver and Melody started cleaning up.
“I’ll get it.” MacGyver said to her.
He took the dishcloth out of her hands.
“You need to rest.” He put his hand on her belly. “It’s almost time for him or her to come out and you both need your rest.”
“Alright.” Melody smiled.
She sat at the counter and watched Mac wash the dishes. She had been love with him for about four months now, but she wouldn’t tell him. She didn’t want to mess up the friendship they had. She could always have her dreams though. She smiled at him. MacGyver looked at her and noticed her smile. He wondered what she was thinking. He turned back to the dishes. As he washed them, he thought about Melody and the baby. He wondered if he would have the nerve to ask her an important question tonight. He’d been planning on it for a month but always had reservations. Well, if he didn’t ask her tonight, he would at least start the ball rolling. He put down the dish cloth and took a deep breath. He turned to Melody and looked at her across the counter. He smiled.
“What?” Melody asked smiling back.
MacGyver put his hand on her cheek.
“What are you doing?” Melody asked softly.
“Something I should have done a long time ago.”
He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. He paused and kissed her again. He pulled away, waiting for a response. Melody smiled at him.
“I’ve been waiting for that for months.” Melody laughed sweetly.
MacGyver smiled and touched her lips. He was doing good so far, he decided to continue.
“I’ve been in love with you for a few months now, but I’ve been afraid to say anything.” MacGyver said sweetly.
“You have?” Melody got tears in her eyes. “I’ve been afraid to tell you, I love you, too.”
MacGyver smiled bigger and kissed her again. He kissed her deeper. They both felt like electricity was coursing through them. Melody never felt happier. MacGyver decided not to press his luck and backed off.
“It’s getting late. We should get some sleep.” MacGyver suggested.
“I don’t know if I can now.” Melody said nearly bubbling with happiness.
“I know, but let’s try.” he smiled.
They went up to bed and neither could sleep for over an hour. Finally MacGyver put his arm around Melody and she laid her head on his chest. They fell asleep in that position.
The next morning, MacGyver put his plan into action. He made Melody breakfast in bed and put a small box under her napkin. He took the tray upstairs to her.
“Wake up beautiful. It’s time for breakfast.”
Melody opened her eyes and sat up.
“Aww...thank you! This is so sweet.”
MacGyver sat the tray on her lap and sat down facing her.
“Don’t you have to go to work?” Melody asked.
“Yes, but this comes first.” MacGyver said. “Go ahead. Dig in.”
“It smells so good.”
Melody took a sip of orange juice and smiled. She thought of how wonderful he was. She picked up the napkin and something dropped onto the tray. She saw a little black box and gasped. MacGyver held his breath in anticipation. Melody opened the box and inside was a ring with a diamond in the middle. With tears in her eyes she looked up at MacGyver. MacGyver took a deep breath.
“I’ve been planning this for awhile, but could never get the nerve. But after last night I decided to try. As Pete said, we’re practically married anyway, so let’s make it official. Will you marry me?” MacGyver took the ring out of the box and held it out.
Melody was shocked but had known what to say for months.
“I feel like I’ve been blessed ever since I met you. Of course I’ll marry you.” Melody held out her hand.
MacGyver slipped the ring on her finger and grabbed her for a kiss. They both forgot about the breakfast and it turned over. They both jumped then laughed.
“It was a nice thought.” Melody said. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up. You go to work. You don’t want to be late.”
MacGyver smiled and kissed her goodbye as he headed out the door. As he pulled away in his jeep, he didn’t notice the man in the van staring at him from across the road.
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:22 (eleven years ago) link
Is anyone else now terrified by the thought of latebloomer's bookmarks?
― HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:24 (eleven years ago) link
dead white guy canon
Doris Lessing. Margaret Atwood. Octavia Butler. Angela Carter.
― Anna, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:24 (eleven years ago) link
gravitas =! surliness
― elmo argonaut, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:25 (eleven years ago) link
-- HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:24 (1 minute ago) Bookmark Link
― Pashmina, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:25 (eleven years ago) link
Good point Anna, add Ursula K LeGuin.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:26 (eleven years ago) link
I learned today that there is Schindler's List fan fiction
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:26 (eleven years ago) link
And Samuel R Delany.
xpost to self
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:29 (eleven years ago) link
I skipped on Ursula, even though I like the Earthsea books, because of her somewhat dodgy politics - kind of plays into Dom's 'reject the alien' fantasies.
― Anna, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:32 (eleven years ago) link
I don't know I thought the politics of "The Left Hand of Darkness" and "The Dispossessed" were actually quite interestingly nuanced. Then again it's years since I read them and that was against a background of wacko Heinleinian politics.
― treefell, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:37 (eleven years ago) link
― DavidM, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:40 (eleven years ago) link
I don't remember any stuff like that in LeGuin either, they seemed very considered to me, but it's been years since I've read them also.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:43 (eleven years ago) link
i always liked how ged had nice chestnut skin and the baddies were all ghostly white
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:47 (eleven years ago) link
strickly speakin that's fantasy though, not science fiction
― elmo argonaut, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:48 (eleven years ago) link
-- Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:47 (1 minute ago) Bookmark Link
Do you see major differences beyond the cosmetic?
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:49 (eleven years ago) link
She has written a lot of actual no-denying-it Science Fiction as well though.
xpost - yes.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:50 (eleven years ago) link
Although the lines between the two do blur on occasion.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 14:51 (eleven years ago) link
Was just thinking of Left Hand of Darkness as a kind of reject-yr-gut-impulse-to-reject-the-alien book, a theme I'd say is considerably more prevalent more in written SF than the basic reject-the-alien one. I guess I'm vaguely snobbish towards TV sci-fi in that I might tell someone I liked science fiction and not count really that stuff, even though that's probably the default meaning for most people with it in their livejournal interests etc, and I would suspect it of having a considerably worse ratio of blast-the-aliens cowboys-in-space stuff.
(I do see differences between fantasy and SF, though obviously I can't say that in a post starting w. Ursula Le Guin without noting that the lines would be very blurred even in what I consider the good stuff, especially 60s-70s before fantasy and maybe sci-fi too completely hived off into its/their own genre(s) that nobody else wanted to touch. Maybe it's just snobbery again but SF = about possibilities, about "if our universe changed in these crazy but not completely impossible ways, or turned out to have worked in them all along, what does that mean about us? and since human psychology stays basically the same -- PS if not, why not -- where would it take us?", vs fantasy's retreat into cosy if gory imagined world of impossibilities, romantic heroism, etc. And to join that up with my first-paragraph elitism, in some ways TV SF seems kind of more fantasy than SF, future/space just an excuse to declare technology functionally indistinguishable from magic, have epic multi-century feudal wars and cloud palaces and beautiful princesses...)
God knows why I've bothered typing or even thinking this. I await a one-line shred-ripping of my misplaced and overlong earnestness and then some c+p slash, or maybe just a prompt thread death.
― a passing spacecadet, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:15 (eleven years ago) link
"I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style. "I guess we all feel alone sometimes." Jesse ran a slender hand through his long, dark hair, cut in the fashionable mullet style.
― gff, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:27 (eleven years ago) link
fantasy = magic wardrobe
sci fi = spaceship
fantasy = goblins
sci fi = martians
dom you're right that martians/spaceship or goblins/wardrobe can perform the same kind of functions in a story (portal to another world; what you find once you get there) and that the differences are largely differences of ambience and tone but ambience and tone are a big part of what any fiction is all about
i have just finished doing a radio series on golden age sci-fi pulp stories, despite knowing virtually nothing about them, so forgive me for going on and on here in possible the wrong direction completely but it seems to me that "classic" sci fi was all about a hero or group of heroes applying their rationality to some disturbance or alien thing (something star trek took up with gusto at the exact moment that this model of sci fi started losing its currency in the sharp blast of "new wave" story which tended towards INNER space and psychology); these classic stories were also hobbled, depending on your point of view, by having the short story as their dominant mode and thus relied heavily on short story tactics like the twist ending, which can feel cheap
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:33 (eleven years ago) link
does this count? it just arrived from amazon.
― sleep, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:34 (eleven years ago) link
the first four of those Gene Wolfe Severian books are fucking excellent.
― Pashmina, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:36 (eleven years ago) link
Actually that's a classic case of the lines between SF and fantasy being blurred, quite deliberately too.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:36 (eleven years ago) link
-- Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:33 (6 minutes ago) Bookmark Link
In these stories, as a rule, is the foreign element eventually educated or destroyed?
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:40 (eleven years ago) link
If that's your angle, Dom, you're probably better looking at sub-Tolkein sword-and-sorcery trilogies, and even then you might be reaching a bit.
― Pashmina, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:42 (eleven years ago) link
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:42 (eleven years ago) link
Dom I don't understand quite what you're saying, any chance you could spell it out in broader brush strokes?
― Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:43 (eleven years ago) link
So far the most batshit fantasy world on this thread is the one where The Sopranos isn't getting enough critical attention.
― Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:44 (eleven years ago) link
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:44 (eleven years ago) link
-- Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:44 (1 minute ago) Bookmark Link
I'm not talking about critical attention! I'm talking about academic study.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:45 (eleven years ago) link
You people are so dismissive of what you don't understand, which is why I'm arguing _against_ a culturally hegmonic approach to what is taken from popular culture into the academic field. I'm trying to help you.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:47 (eleven years ago) link
Helpful people are a nuisance.
― Rock Hardy, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:52 (eleven years ago) link
Sci-fi is pabulum for 12 year old girls.
― Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:54 (eleven years ago) link
― gff, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:54 (eleven years ago) link
I really can't believe there's a disproportionate amount of SF being studied in academia, unless you're talking about backwater US schools that offer majors in Klingon.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:56 (eleven years ago) link
in "the tactful saboteur" by frank herbert, the foreign element is a species with five genders. this species' family unit is made up of a representative of each of these genders, and "head of the household" status passes around the circle every couple of years, effectively changing the gender of the person who has it, or gives it up. the intricacy and subtlety of this arrangement prompts the human protagonist of the story to finagle one of these family units into the head of a powerful government department on the basis that their knowledge and tact makes them a better candidate than any of the available humans. embarrassingly for this species, the only way he can do this is by revealing the secrets of their "ego transfer" in an open courtroom, which is apparently akin to describing each moment of a rimjob
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:58 (eleven years ago) link
Results 1 - 10 of about 2,920 for "the sopranos". (0.12 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 18,300 for "star trek". (0.08 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 26,800 for "star wars". (0.22 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 851 for goodfellas. (0.15 seconds)
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:58 (eleven years ago) link
you'd think this story would be, uh, "eaten up" by gender studies courses but no
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:59 (eleven years ago) link
Real critical underappreciation.
― Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:01 (eleven years ago) link
star trek: 1966
star wars: 1977
― gff, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:06 (eleven years ago) link
Results 1 - 10 of about 2,210 for "buffy the vampire slayer". (0.20 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 744 for "the breakfast club". (0.18 seconds)
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:07 (eleven years ago) link
"Buffy" is pretty bad I must admit. Most/nearly all TV/film SF I don't like, personally.
If you're arguing that taking geekish/"cult" TV/film into "serious" academia is ridiculous, then you might have a point worth expanding on there. So it might be worth expanding on it, Dom.
― Pashmina, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:10 (eleven years ago) link
nerds be goin into academia. so what?
― gff, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:11 (eleven years ago) link
the university of google!
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:11 (eleven years ago) link
"so what" is a perfectly valid response, I agree.
― Pashmina, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:12 (eleven years ago) link
The ridiculous number of people emotionally-invested in making Buffy seem cleverer than it actually is always astounds me.
― HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:12 (eleven years ago) link
Results 1 - 10 of about 8,650 for "film noir". (0.09 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 1,870 for "professional wrestling". (0.13 seconds)
― gff, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:12 (eleven years ago) link
-- Dom Passantino,
But Captain Passantino! What is this human thing you call critcal discourse?
― Anna, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:14 (eleven years ago) link
I can't write an extended post at the moment, but I think this "Why professional wrestling makes for a more informed viewer than science fiction" thing needs expanding on. I will come back later.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:15 (eleven years ago) link
Results 1 - 10 of about 79 for "stone cold steve austin".
Results 1 - 10 of about 64 for "ashlee simpson"
― Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:17 (eleven years ago) link
Stone Cold Steve Austin had America's biggest selling t-shirt of the 1990s. The fact that he is only mentioned in 79 academic texts is another example of the failings of modern universities.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:17 (eleven years ago) link
uh, I would think that the fact that he's mentioned in as many as 79 academic texts is a stronger example of the failings of modern universities
― HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:19 (eleven years ago) link
Results 1 - 10 of about 417 for "hulk hogan"
Results 1 - 10 of about 316 for "daleks".
Check that out.
― Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:19 (eleven years ago) link
Results 1 - 10 of about 948 for "barry bonds". (0.17 seconds)
And that's from a sportsman who plays a (in world terms) minority sport. Stone Cold Steve Austin was the second biggest grossing US performer in the history of one of the few sports (alongside football, boxing, and track athletics) that has a legitimate worldwide fanbase.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:21 (eleven years ago) link
Results 1 - 1 of 1 for "jimmy bullard".
― Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:22 (eleven years ago) link
Results 1 - 10 of about 1,680 for giant haystacks. (0.37 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 13,900 for william riker. (0.19 seconds)
― DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:22 (eleven years ago) link
I think there's something more... honest about pro-wres than sci-fi.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:23 (eleven years ago) link
Results 1 - 10 of about 18,800 for "jules verne". (0.12 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 6,640 for "isaac asimov". (0.38 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 8,930 for "william gibson". (0.19 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 37 for "rowdy roddy piper". (0.36 seconds)
― gff, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:24 (eleven years ago) link
if dramatically expunging evil is your bag then wrestling definitely gets er done
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:25 (eleven years ago) link
Y'see, now you're trying to tar wrestling off with the "only rednecks watch it" brush. That's not helpful.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:26 (eleven years ago) link
Look, some people like sci-fi, some people like oiled up muscled men grappling around in their pants, can't we all just get along?
― Matt DC, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:26 (eleven years ago) link
There are people who think that wrestling is an ignoble sport. Wrestling is not a sport, it is a spectacle, and it is no more ignoble to attend a wrestled performance of Suffering than a performance of the sorrows of Arnolphe or Andromaque [Barthes here refers to characters in neo-classic French plays by Molière and Racine]. Of course, there exists a false wrestling, in which the participants unnecessarily go to great lengths to make a show of a fair fight; this is of no interest. True wrestling, wrong called amateur wrestling, is performed in second-rate halls, where the public spontaneously attunes itself to the spectacular nature of the contest, like the audience at a suburban cinema. Then these same people wax indignant because wrestling is a stage-managed sport (which ought, by the way, to mitigate its ignominy). The public is completely uninterested in knowing whether the contest is rigged or not, and rightly so; it abandons itself to the primary virtue of the spectacle, which is to abolish all motives and all consequences: what matters is not what it thinks but what it sees.
you've got your abstract right there dude
― dan m, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:28 (eleven years ago) link
wrestling is a closer relative of soaps and telenovela than anything else. uh xp
― gff, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:29 (eleven years ago) link
Wrestling _pre-dates_ both the soap opera and the telenovela.
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:29 (eleven years ago) link
this is the best simulation of an old ILX thread i've seen for ages, well done dom
― DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:30 (eleven years ago) link
is dom doing a tuomas?
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:31 (eleven years ago) link
more like a muomas
― DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:32 (eleven years ago) link
2007 numbers for WWE (taken from wikipedia):
Revenue ▲ $485.7 million USD
Operating income ▲ $68.4 million USD
Net income ▲ $52.1 million USD
2006 numbers for MLB (taken from Plunkett Research):
5.2 Bil. US$
Overall Operating Income
360 Mil. US$
I couldn't find net income.
So, you want to know why a currently-active marquee player embroiled in controversy from a massively more successful sport has more Google hits than a retired marquee player from less successful sport? Does this really need to be explained? And what does this have to do with your science fiction thesis in the first place?
― HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:35 (eleven years ago) link
wrestling a dom thread is a closer relative of soaps and telenovela than anything else. uh xp
-- gff, Tuesday, June 3, 2008 11:29 AM (6 minutes ago) Bookmark Link
― gff, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:36 (eleven years ago) link
(And to go back to my previous dismissive, unless you are specifically studying the psychology behind professional sports or the historical and cultural repercussions of an event in a professional sport, like say the integration of leagues, I think any university that spends time studying any professional sport is doing its students a massive disservice.)
― HI DERE, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:38 (eleven years ago) link
I also think that if you like fiction in general, separating out the "science fiction" is a bit trickier than you might think.
This is a very good point. A lot of literary ficton creeps in the odd SF or fantasy device, tainting it with everything that Dom is against.
― The Real Dirty Vicar, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 16:55 (eleven years ago) link
Any literary writer that does this usually spends the following year explaining how, even though their novel is set in the future and features imaginary technology it isn't SF because <insert any rant from upthread here>
― Soukesian, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 17:26 (eleven years ago) link
some ilxors sure do think a lot of themselves lately.
― Ste, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 17:48 (eleven years ago) link
i don't really understand in what universe buffy the vampire slayer is 'science fiction' before it is three or four other things - 'horror', 'teen drama', whatever -
i actually think there's something worthwhile to be teased out of dom's hostility - which isn't all that ludicrous, really, given that there's at least four books on the philosophy of harry potter - which okay is also not fantasy - but, you know, fuckit
― thomp, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:25 (eleven years ago) link
barthes on wrestling.
― Dy, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:26 (eleven years ago) link
okay, a question: given that what happens in english departments HAS NO BEARING ON THE WIDER WORLD WHATSOEVERANDEVER, why does it matter that people are writing about buffy and not the wire?
― thomp, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:26 (eleven years ago) link
hey - our "OMG WINEHOUSE" exam made the national presses ;-)
― Just got offed, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:27 (eleven years ago) link
two things which are slightly tangled thus far:
i) the difference between the dangerous and hateful influence of SF in academia, and the (alleged) dangerous and hateful influence of it in the actual real world - no one seems to be addressing the latter
ii) the fact that the entity tracer and a bunch of others are calling 'science fiction' is historically, aesthetically, culturally different from the entity that dom is calling 'science fiction' (a bit like the difference between the entity barthes is discussing w/r/t wrestling and modern pro wrestling)
― thomp, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:30 (eleven years ago) link
... holy shit, you're oxbridge?
that explains a thing
Isn't Buffy the Vampire Slayer also a really creepy concept? A blonde-haired, blue-eyed devil killing racist caricatures of Jews?
Except Buffy (well, Sarah Michelle Gellar) is Jewish (as is Willow). And as for the head vampire, Spike...
― DavidM, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:36 (eleven years ago) link
about to do a school shooting
― DG, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:36 (eleven years ago) link
Couple of points:
Sci-fi and fantasy basically being the same:
Well, that depends doesn't it? Space operas like Star Wars, sure. But gritty near-future stuff that extrapolates our present, making it twice as fucked-up couldn't be further from fantasy.
Also, the anti-sf points made in this thread have already been made years ago within sci-fi itself. Stories like Norman Spinrad's "The Iron Dream" and William Gibson's "Gernsback Continuum" fiercely satirise dodgy ideas like fear of the other or dreams of a perfect sanitised world. It's like saying "rock music is decadent" when musicians like Ian McKaye have already been banging on about that since forever.
― Bodrick III, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:39 (eleven years ago) link
I thing SF is OK as part of a balanced diet. ;)
― Bodrick III, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:42 (eleven years ago) link
"the head vampire, Spike"
^^ plz watch show before joining argument. this goes all round really
― thomp, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:43 (eleven years ago) link
Nicole Johnson returns to Hazzard, she’s Bo’s ex-girlfriend who no one’s seen since a horrible wreck when she was the only female driver racing in Nascar. This devastated both her and Bo because she decided to break up with him due to the wreck messing up her face. During yet another feud with Roscoe and Boss Hog a mysterious woman helps Bo during a race when Luke is in Atlanta. Bo finds the woman in a car that was hit during the chase. Bo gets hurt during the chase when a bullet from Roscoe’s gun hits his arm then the woman has to get them out of harms way. At first, she looks scared and hesitant about driving The General. But then she totally changes and drives like a professional. She even has to do a big jump over abridge that was out. Bo looks deep in her eyes and he has a feeling that he knows her. When Bo starts slipping in and out of conscieneness, he hears the woman, “Come on, Bo-Bo, stay with me.” The last thought he had was ‘Nicole?’
When Bo woke up, he was surrounded by his family, Jesse, Daisy and Luke. His voice was soft. “Where is she?”
“Who?” Jesse asked.
“Nicole isn’t here, Bo.” Luke stated.
“How’d I get here?” Bo asked. The family really didn’t know.
“We don’t know Bo, the hospital called and they told us that someone brought you in here yesterday. They told us that they told them all of your information, name, birth date, hometown, birth place, they had to get your social security number from Jessed, though. The person even knew your allergic reactions to Penicillin. A nurse walked in.
“Excuse m. I need you to step out for a minute.”
“Yes Ma’am.” Jessed states. They all walk out. The nurse had to change all the bandages on Bo’s arm.
“Tell me I’m not crazy.” Bo states.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Who brought me here, what did she look like?”
“She had hair that fell right past her shoulders, it was a very nice shade of red. She was normal height, I’d say she came up to your nose. And she had the most piercing green eyes I’ve ever seen. And I can’t place it, but I’ve seen her some where. I want to say televison, but I didn’t get a good look at her cause I was just browsing through channels.” She finished the story and the bandaging.
“You’re welcome, beep me if you need anything.”
Bo was discharged 2 days later.
Bo was tired of watching King of the Hill. “Come on Luke, please turn it!”
“Ok, geez.” The channel flipped a couple times.
“Luke, go back!” Bo stated. Luke turned back a couple times.
‘In other news, ex-WWE Diva Nicole Earnhardt and Dale Earnhardt have decided to divorce.’
“That’s her, that’s the girl who rescued me.”
Luke’s eyes were fixed on the tv. “Nicole, a 7 time WWE Women’s Champion, who first made it into news when a porn video leaked with ex-boyfriend, WWE Champion, John Cena, met Dale at a wrestling event he attended. They have been married 2 years, but agreed it wasn’t working out. The divorce went through yesterday, Nicole recently moved back to her house in Atlanta, Georgia.” The camera moved to a picture of Nicole, her green eyes lit up the screen.
“I’m going to Atlanta,” Bo said bluntly.
“Come on Bo, you’re going purely on the fact that this Nicole girl purely has green eyes. That looks nothing like her.”
Bo cut him off. “Luke, I have to do this...something’s dragging me toward this girl.”
“Ok, do you want me to come with you?”
“No offense Cuz, but I think this is something that I have to do alone.”
Luke nodded to Bo and with that, Bo grabbed the keys to The General and started his drive out of Hazzard. Once in Atlanta, Bo stopped at a convience store and went over to the phone booth and looked up the last name Johnson. No Nicole’s but there was a Nikki and a Christina and Bo knew it wasn’t Christina, even though that was her middle name, he knew that she hated it. He dialed the number for Nikki Johnson, but it turned out to a little old lady. He looked up Earnhardt, but they were all men. Then something hit Bo, Nicole’s parents had gotten a divorce, he remembered her telling him about it, he looked up Williams, and got the address of 2 Nicole Williams’. He drove to the first location, when he pulled towards the house, he realized that the house belonged to a little old lady. Bo climbed back into The General and drove to the second house, Bo stopped the car and climbed out. He knocked on the door and didn’t get an answer. He walked towards the back, he was shocked at what he saw. Sitting in front of him was a 1969 Dodge Charger, it was baby blue and had an eagle on the roof. He heard music coming from the garage, the door was open and he walked quietly in, just in case this wasn’t Nicole, but he had a feeling it was. As he got closer he noticed that the song playing was, Flirtin’ With Disaster, by Molly Hatchet. He stood at the door and watched as the woman was writing something. As the song ended she quicky switched it to a slower song. Bo then knew that it was Nicole, this was their song when they broke up and got back together. He listened closely to the words.
I’m lying alone with my hand on the phone.
Thinking of you til it hurts.
I know you hurt too, but what else could we do?
I wish I could carry my smile in my heart at times when my life sees so low.
It would make me believe what tomorrow could bring when today doesn’t really know.
Does it really know?
Bo listened as Nicole started to sing the woman’s chorus.
I’m all out of love.
I’m so lost without you.
I know you were right.
Believing for so long.
What am I without you?
I can’t bee to late to say that I was so wrong.
Bo started to sing along with the male chorus.
I want you to come back and carry me home.
Away from these long lonely nights.
I’m reaching for you.
Are you feeling it too?
Does the feeling feel oh so right?
The woman froze, “How, how’d you find me?” She finally looked behind her.
“I used the phonebook, I looked up your dad’s last name. Why have you been hiding all this time?”
“Well, during the wreck, my face got burnt and I had to wait 6 months for the surgery. After that I looked totally different, I felt that I wouldn’t be who you fell in love with. So after that, I entered a WWE Diva search contest, and became a diva on Raw and in 2 ½ years, I’ve been the WWE Women’s champion, made a porn video, married a Nascar driver, and gotten a divorce, nice story isn’t it?”
“I fell in love with what’s one the inside.”
Nicole smiled, “I love you, Bo-Bo, I never stopped.” She stepped closer to Bo and kissed him.
“I love you too, Cole!” It’s been forever since I heard that name, Beauregard!”
Bo smiled, “You’re lucky you’re the only one who can call me that.” Bo returned a kiss to Nicole. Bo looked at the table and noticed a check and a for sale sign. Nicole saw him and smiled.
“I sold my house. Everything’s moved out already, the only things I even kept are my radio, DVDs, Cds, movies, clothes, my title replica, pictures, computer, and of course Blue. I built her myself.”
“But you still have her beat.” Nicole smiled.
“Do you still have this?” Bo showed her a small tattoo, his said Cole and his was on his right arm. She smiled and showed him her right shoulder blade and a tattoo that read Bo - Bo.
“I’m moving back to Hazzard,” she finally added.
Bo smiled, “That’s wonderful, would you like to move in with me?”
“I’d love to, but would Uncle Jesse care?”
“He wouldn’t mind, he’s always considered you family.” Nicole jumped into Bo’s arms.
“Let’s go now.”
“But how are we going to take both cars?”
“I’ve got Katie’s truck. She’s got one of those switches that hooks to cars, or there is that other way.”
“Race?” Nicole nodded.
“Race.” They said together.
He walked up to Blue first, “One thing?” He tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. “Nice.” He stated, they kissed and they both climbed into their cars.
“One more thing Bo.” Nicole stated.
She hit the horn and the opening lines from Dixie played, Bo did the same with The General. Nicole cranked her car and Flirtin’ With Disaster blared out of the speakers. She hit the horn and was out. Bo smiled and followed.
- - - -
Nicole pulled into the Duke’s Driveway a few seconds before Bo Did. Nicole saw Luke and decided to play with him, Bo knew what she was doing and he went along with it.
“Bo, thanks again for not telling anyone about the gun. I didn’t mean to shoot that old lady.”
“Shoot Who?!” Luke yelled.
“Lukie Dukie, shut up.”
“Nicole, wow, you’ve changed.”
“Yeah and you haven’t.”
She and Bo smiled.
“Hea, nice car.”
“Thanks, Blue is my baby, well my second baby.” Nicole said smiling to Bo. He returned the smile. Then Uncle Jesse and Daisy came out of the house to see what the commotion was about.
“Bo? Luke? What’s going on?” Jesse asked.
“Who’s your friend, you’re not going to introduce her to us?” Daisy asked. Nicole laughed. Bo followed.
“Guys, you have met her. Uncle Jesse, Daisy, say hello to Nicole.”
They both did a double take. “Nicole, you look awesome.” Daisy stated.
“What’s got you back in Hazzard?” Jesse asked. Nicole smiled and looked at Bo.
“I’ve realized what I’ve been missing.” They grabbed hands and gave each other a small kiss. “I’m thinking about building a new house.”
“You will not do such a thing. We have an extra room, you and Bo can share it until you’re really ready to have your own place. That’s a lot better than sleeping in the same room as him and Luke.”
“Finally, I can have top Bunk!” Luke proclaimed getting a laugh out of everybody.
“Thanks Uncle Jesse, but I don’t want to make it harder for y’all.”
“You won’t make it harder, you’ve been part of this family for at least 10 years, it’s the least I can do.”
Nicole hugged the older man. “Luke, will you be a dear and get the boxes out of my car.”
“Of course I will, because if I didn’t, you’ll kick my ass.”
“True,” Bo and Nicole said at the exact same time. After dinner Nicole and Bo decided to sit out by the pond, they always gazed at the stars, ever since they’ve been together. Bo broke the silence.
“Remember how we used to act like we hated each other?” Nicole smiled.
“Yeah, you admitted you liked me and I punched ya, you had a black eye for a week.”
“It was worth it, you felt sorry for me and you admitted that you liked me too.”
“I guess you could truly say we’ve kind of been together ever since.” Nicole added. “The whole time I was away, being with John Cena and Dale, all I thought about was you.”
“Did you love them?”
“I think I loved Dale for the first couple months, then I realized what I was missing, here. John was only there when I was lonely and well you know what that lead to. Bo, I’ve always loved you and I’ll never stop.”
“Marry me Nicole, not right now, maybe a couple months down the line, I want you to be mine forever, I’ll get you a ring tomorrow.”
Nicole nodded, crying, “Ok.”
Bo collapsed his lips onto hers. They got caught up in the moment and didn’t want anyone to see them and didn’t want to wake anyone.
Nicole looked at the barn and smiled, Bo caught it.
“You remember how much fun he had in there?” Bo winked.
They walked towards the barn, “Bo, as many times that we’ve done it in here, how come we’ve never done it in The General?”
Bo lowered his head down to capture Nicole’s lips, while his hands were working on removing her Pink Boar’s Nest Tank Top. Nicole worked on removing his Lynard Skynard Shirt. Bo looked down at her and captured her lips again, Nicole slowly moved down to his belt buckle and helped him out of the pants. Bo then returned the favor to her helping her out of her shorts. She then kicked off her boots. Bo kicked off his shoes. Nicole grabbed, Lil Bo, and smiled up to Bo, who took a breath. Nicole lowered her mouth around Lil Bo, and worked him in her mouth until she felt him tense up. Bo pushed Nicole towards The General and removed her hipster underwear and proceeded to return the favor to her, when he thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he quit. Nicole pushed Bo towards The General and pushed him into the front seat. She smiled as she straddled his waist and guided him into her. After 10 minutes of going up and down, Nicole bit her lip, then kissed Bo. She placed her head on his shoulder and grabbed his hand and cried out, “Oh Bo!”
A couple seconds later, Bo followed. “I Love you.” Bo breathed out.
“I love you too.” Nicole added and they kissed again. They went back into the house, both showered and went to sleep.
- - - - -
The next morning, Bo woke up all tangled up in covers, with a pair of long legs wrapped up with his and he loved the way it felt. He kissed Nicole on the forehead.
“Umm, good morning.” She said.
“Good morning, sleep good?”
She nodded. “What we doing today?
“Whatever you wanna do?”
Nicole smiled, “Well how about driving.”
Bo smiled. “Driving what?”
“Me driving The General, that is the car that I learned to drive in, you know?”
Bo smirked, “Whatever you want do, is good with me, Cole.”
They started their drive and like always Roscoe tried to arrest them. “That fat sack of shit...should I teach them not to mess with a Duke?”
“Well sooner or later, I’ll be a Duke anyway.” Nicole said with a smile.
“You ready, Bo.”
They grabbed each other’s hands and did a little handshake and Nicole sped away. And of course, they came up to the Dingleman Bridge warning sign and Nicole jumped it with ease.
2 Months Later:
Nicole looked spaced out today. Bo could tell. “Cole, what’s wrong?”
Nicole looked at Bo blankly. “I’m pregnant.”
Bo blinked, that’s all he could do, until he noticed tears in Nicole’s eyes. “Cole, honey, I’m not mad. I’m shocked and excited.
“Yes, you’re going to give me a son of a daughter. I love you so much.”
Nicole cried again, this time happy tears. “I know.”
They went to City Hall, that day and got married.
― latebloomer, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:47 (eleven years ago) link
Well, more Gruppenführer who eventually defects.
― DavidM, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 18:55 (eleven years ago) link
Junky Fresh Prince and breast-man ALF get mad lolz, btw.
― Bodrick III, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 20:48 (eleven years ago) link
I'm gonna come back and read this thread properly cos I love sci-fi, but WTF, why are people calling Buffy science fiction?
Where's the _science_ part of that?!?!?!?!?!
― mei, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 22:45 (eleven years ago) link
Yeah, I hate about 98% of it. The 2% that I don't hate: the first three or four Dune books.
― Daniel, Esq., Tuesday, 3 June 2008 22:47 (eleven years ago) link
Dune is probably the closest thing to space opera/fantasy sci-fi that I could actually sit down and read. Some of the philosophical elements of it are quite interesting, mind over matter and all that.
― Bodrick III, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 22:54 (eleven years ago) link
what the shit, dune is near unreadable nutjobbery.
― ledge, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 22:55 (eleven years ago) link
There're WAY better SF novels than Dune out there.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:01 (eleven years ago) link
― Daniel, Esq., Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:02 (eleven years ago) link
Well depends on what yer after. Some random examples that might not lie too far from Dune:
Iain M Banks Culture novels: idea-heavy space opera set in an AI-run anarcho-techno-communist utopia.
Greg Egan, Diaspora: Very hard science about the lives of various different kinds of post/trans humans.
Ken Macleod, The Star Fraction: heavily political, themes of revolution and anarchy and AI.
― ledge, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:15 (eleven years ago) link
Any of Iain M Banks' Culture books, Ursula Le Guin's SF stuff, Dan Simmons' Hyperion cycle, PHILIP K DICK, Moorcock's The Dancers At the End of Time, pretty much anything by Brian Aldiss (Hothouse is great), Cities in Flight by James Blish, David Brin's Uplift Storm trilogy, Miller's A Canticle For Leibowitz, Delany's The Einstein Intersection... Everything here has far more wit and self-awareness than Herbert, and just as many enormous ideas.
And if you want to go into the borderline stuff, you've got Vonnegut, Ballard, Carter, Orwell... That's just for starters.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:15 (eleven years ago) link
Not read Greg Egan, looks interesting. I didn't really get on with the MacLeod book I read.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:19 (eleven years ago) link
"Isn't Buffy the Vampire Slayer also a really creepy concept, when you consider how, throughout literary history, the vampire was an anti-semitic caricature? And then all of a sudden you have an
hour on TV a week delighting in a blonde-haired, blue-eyed devil killing racist caricatures of
-- Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 12:21 (10 hours ago) Bookmark Link"
I think for vampire books/films to be anti-semetic the people reading/watching them would have to know the vampires were supposed to be Jews. Otherwise it's all in your head.
Also vampires are the cool ones, the ones with character, the ones you want to be. The people persecuting them are just nameless extras (buffy a possible exception if you're a not-very tough girl).
Buffy is blonde-haired and blued eyed cos a lot of people find that *hot* and it's one of the main selling points of the series. If she was a mousy girl, a bit on the short side with spots she wouldn't be a sex symbol.
"Interesting point you touch on, but I'd argue that while pro-wres and sci-fi are attempting to do similar things (play out a good-vs-evil battle while touching upon socio-political fears of the day)"
Isn't that most stories about anything in any genre, except very prosaic day-to-day soap stuff like Eastenders?
"In these stories, as a rule, is the foreign element eventually educated or destroyed?
-- Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 15:40 (7 hours ago) Bookmark Link"
Not in :
DR & Quinch
The Status Civilisation
The Sirens of Titan
eg in Star Wars the ultimate evil is in the ultimate goods' family. The foreign element is largely on the side of good (ewoks, wookies etc) or neither (jabba) wheras the badies seem to be mostly the same race and mostly human(oid).
Um, and sci fi can't be any good cos lots of it is written by white people who are now dead!?!?!?
That's racist in a bad way, not to mention deadist!
― mei, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:20 (eleven years ago) link
Yeah, that Culture novels are class. Iain M Banks shed the classic idea of a sci-fi utopia of all its dodgy (kinda right wing/conformist) connotations made it something you wouldn't mind living in.
― Bodrick III, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:23 (eleven years ago) link
Dom just started this thread so he could sit back, watch it develop and bust a "lol geeks" zing.
― Bodrick III, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:25 (eleven years ago) link
I'd fucking love to live in the Culture. Drug glands!
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:25 (eleven years ago) link
Being laughed at for being a geek by denizens of the internet really doesn't bother me. This is where I come to do my geeking.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:26 (eleven years ago) link
Yeah nor did I but thought it was worth a mention, the politicking might appeal to... people who like that kind of thing. Greg Egan: Permutation City also good, possibly more philosophical than Diaspora, gets into the nature of mind & matter.
Definitely gonna give some of your list a go.
― ledge, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:27 (eleven years ago) link
Have you read "Report on Probability A" by Aldiss?
― ledge, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:28 (eleven years ago) link
No, not read that one. Is it a novel?
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:29 (eleven years ago) link
Yeah it's... kinda nutso. Takes a single idea and stretches it to breaking point. Can provoke a reaction of extreeeeme boredom and irritation but I love it.
― ledge, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:32 (eleven years ago) link
Cool, it's on my list. He's a very interesting writer.
― chap, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 23:43 (eleven years ago) link
Ark. academic conference examines TV hit 'Buffy'
LITTLE ROCK, Ark. - Aristotle. Nietzsche. Buffy?
The blond heroine of the campy television series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," as well as other works by creator Joss Whedon, will be the focus of a three-day academic conference beginning Friday at Henderson State University. The show starring Sarah Michelle Gellar won cult fame and critical praise during its seven seasons on The WB and UPN networks.
Since it ended, the series has spawned enough academic books on the philosophy surrounding the roles of friendship and feminism to fill a 15-foot-wide bookshelf at the college in Arkadelphia, said Kevin Durand, an associate professor of philosophy.
"It has staying power," Durand said. "It's like I tell my students in philosophy a lot of times: We're not so much about necessarily finding all the answers as wanting to ask better questions. `Buffy,' I think, does that. `Buffy' never really leaves you with nice, pat answers. You have even more questions than when you started."
Durand said more than 90 academic papers will be discussed at the conference. He expects about 150 people to attend and discuss the vampire slayer and Whedon's other works, including the television series "Firefly" and "Angel." Another point of discussion will be a lesser-known part of Whedon's work — his screenplay for the hit animated film "Toy Story."
Among the papers: "Buffy and Feminism," "Buffy and Identity," "Gender Stereotypes and the Image of Domesticity in `Firefly,'" "`Firefly:' The Illusive Safety of Big Damn Heroes" and a Durand favorite by a British scholar, "Hero's Journey, Heroine's Return: Buffy, Eurydice and the Orpheus Myth."
"That one just sounds cool," he said.
Durand, who contributed an academic paper at each of the two previous Buffy conferences, often focuses on how power plays into the "Buffy" series. He said much of the heroine's strength came from others and her willingness to work with friends in her fight against creatures of the night.
― Pancakes Hackman, Friday, 6 June 2008 15:21 (eleven years ago) link
― permanent resolution, Saturday, 7 June 2008 11:06 (eleven years ago) link
^^^realest of talk
― The stickman from the hilarious "xkcd" comics, Saturday, 7 June 2008 11:07 (eleven years ago) link
Did you actually read it all? I got about 2 paras into the 1st page before TL:DR struck. Probably not helped by me never having seen an episode of "Firefly", and not giving (1) fuck about "Buffy" either. I did like the link @ the second page though that read "More ranting about Firefly here"
Why do people give this much of a fuck about a stupid, trashy TV program?
― Pashmina, Saturday, 7 June 2008 11:13 (eleven years ago) link
i'm sure this can't be the first academic conference on buffy. you'd have thought it was a regular thing -- i wish i could name names here but there's one particularly choice cambridge academic whose homepage listing her interests is all kristeva blah blah blah shit and then finally 'buffy -- aaaaah, bet you didn't expect me to say that, i like POP CULTURE too'.
maybe my mission is to put together the first hackademic conference on 'the shield'.
― banriquit, Saturday, 7 June 2008 11:17 (eleven years ago) link
...more has been written on an explanatory and critical field about trash like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or The X-Files rather than, say, The Sopranos, The Wire, or Mad Men.
Results 1 - 10 of about 2,920 for "the sopranos". (0.12 seconds)
Results 1 - 10 of about 2,210 for "buffy the vampire slayer". (0.20 seconds)
What I really want to know is where is the The Wire slash?
― AlanSmithee, Saturday, 7 June 2008 11:40 (eleven years ago) link
well you can strike out 'mad men' coz academics are generally johnny-come-latelies, but yeah.
― banriquit, Saturday, 7 June 2008 11:48 (eleven years ago) link
Soft lips lightly traced a pattern of kisses along the
back of my neck. I sighed, savoring the delicious
sensation of being awakened from a sensual dream, and
settled my back more firmly against his chest.
Mmm… Sam… I thought, drifting back into sleep.
The soft kisses gave way to the nuzzling of teeth
against my skin, then to a series of love-bites that
became ever sharper as they ascended to my jawline.
The idea shocked me awake--or it would have, but I
felt as drowsy and lethargic as if I'd had far too
much ale and couldn’t quite clear my head. But the
little bites were quite enjoyable, actually, teasing
the fine line between pleasure and pain, and I let
myself be swept away by this hedonistic dream… this
dream lover… so unlike my always gentle Sam…
His lips took mine roughly. I felt no need to resist;
indeed, I could not have, so overpowering were the
kisses. His tongue parted my teeth and plunged inside,
probing, demanding. I yielded utterly, opening to him,
the intensity of the kiss making me arch my back,
begging for more.
I became hazily aware of strong arms encircling me
from behind. Soft fingertips explored my throat, my
chest, lingering over the ring on its silver chain.
The smooth circle always felt warm with my body heat,
but now it seemed to burn. Without warning he pinched
my nipples quite hard, leaving them tingling. I gasped
and was instantly silenced by another insistent,
bruising kiss. I struggled to force myself awake, to
protest, but my eyes were so heavy that I could not
hold them open. Then the kisses on my shoulder and
throat became soothing again and the hands stroking my
skin grew gentle, and once again I lost myself in a
shadowy cloud of desire… Nothing to fear, no need to
He traced little shivery waves on my skin as his
caress moved ever downward. When he took my hardness
in his large hand, I gasped at the heat of his touch.
He began to stroke me masterfully, quickly bringing me
almost to the brink before he abruptly stopped. The
other hand took over then, parting my cheeks to seek
out the tight opening there. I spread my legs and
pushed against his touch, feeling wanton. His hand
left me for a moment but quickly returned, wet and
slick. He slid a finger inside me, suddenly,
forcefully, and I shuddered. He began pulling me off
again in long, sure strokes, his finger moving in and
out rhythmically. When he impaled me with a second
finger I thought I must surely die from the intensity
of it. Once again he took me right to the edge … and
stopped. I writhed against him shamelessly, grinding
my backside into his hips. His hard member felt hot,
too hot, slippery against my skin, and then he was
pushing slowly but relentlessly into me. I cried out
then, I know, but there was no sound, and the world
ceased to exist but for the spot where his body
I gritted my teeth against the pain, willing my
muscles to relax. He grasped my hips and directed me
wordlessly to move with him. As I did so, the pain
gradually ebbed until wild pleasure surged in its
place and I thrust myself hard onto his thick shaft.
Suddenly I felt something smooth and hot against my
face. The ring. He stroked my face with it, though it
was still bound to its chain, then parted my lips and
placed it into my mouth. His finger followed it and I
sucked on both, tracing the contours of his knuckles
with my tongue, pushing the ring against his skin. I
knew what he wanted me to do and, swept away by
passion, I no longer resisted. I pressed my tongue
into the burning circle of the ring, tracing its
shape, feeling it pulse, then pushed it onto his
finger. He gave a final mighty thrust and exploded
within me, sending massive shock waves ripping through
my body. My eyes flew open, though all remained dark
and silent. Then his hands sought out my hardness and
squeezed mercilessly. It took but a stroke or two to
push me over the brink. I gasped for breath, my head
spinning and my heart pounding. An image began to form
in my mind and with it a dreadful, shocking
realization. A circle of flame, an eye, *his* eye.
Then I knew it had been him and not a dream--though I
was quite alone except for Sam, sleeping peacefully by
my side as if nothing had happened.
I lay spent and stunned for a long while. Despite the
disbelief, the revulsion, and the shame beginning to
well up, exquisite aftershocks still tingled
throughout my body. The physical sensations of
lovemaking remained vivid, tangible, undeniable. I
cradled the ring in my hand. It remained white hot,
still slicked with saliva. And it whispered to me, as
it did more and more often these days, "You and I will
soon meet face to face, Frodo Baggins, very soon. I am
― latebloomer, Saturday, 7 June 2008 12:07 (eleven years ago) link
"I said DON'T MOVE," Starsky repeated, the last two words each punctuated with another slap to Hutch's behind. The blond was holding still now and Starsky smiled at the sight. Pushing his finger in all the way, he found his lover's prostate and stroked it.
Hutch tried not to move, but the sensations were too much and he ground back against Starsky's hand. As soon as he did Starsky brought his hand down again leaving a bright red palm print in his wake. Hutch yelped at the pain but managed to stay where he was.
"You're such a good boy, Hutch," Starsky whispered as he bent over his lover's back. "You make me really proud."
"I...I do?" Hutch whispered back, his whole body shaking with the effort of not moving while Starsky's finger continued to torment him.
"Yeah," Starsky said. "You're tryin' so hard not to move. I can tell how bad you want to. How bad you want to grind your ass back on my finger. How bad you want to thrust that hard cock of yours into something."
"Staaarsky..." Hutch cried out when the man pressed down hard on his prostate.
"I need more, Hutch," Starsky said as he pulled out his finger.
"What...whatever you need," Hutch stammered, fighting to remain still. "I love you."
"I love you, too, beautiful," Starsky said.
"What do you need, Starsk?" Hutch managed to ask.
"Fight me," Starsky whispered in his ear.
Hutch shivered as those two little words sank in. He felt his cock grow harder and wondered for a moment which one of them needed this more. Leave it to Starsky to know just what to do to give them both what they craved. Tensing his muscles, Hutch waited a heartbeat before lunging up and back. He succeeded in throwing his lover off him, but he knew he only had seconds before Starsky was on him again. Using his longer legs to his advantage, Hutch dashed toward the bedroom, seeking the illusionary safety of the other room.
He didn't even get the door closed before Starsky barreled into it knocking him to the floor. Before Hutch could make it to his knees, Starsky had one hand fisted in his hair and the other wrapped around his throat. Arousal surged through Hutch as Starsky manhandled him onto the bed.
"Get off!" Hutch snarled as his lover pushed his face into the mattress and shoved a pillow under his hips. Hutch tried to rear up again and knock Starsky off, but a vice-like grip on his testicles stilled him.
"That's a good boy," Starsky purred as he gave the tender orbs a harsh squeeze. He laughed at Hutch's gasp of pain and surprise. His own cock was strangling in his jeans as the adrenaline surged through him again. Keeping one hand on Hutch's balls, he undid his own pants and pulled his hard cock out.
"Starsky, let me go," Hutch demanded.
"No," Starsky replied as he gave the balls another squeeze. "I'm gonna fuck you until you scream, blondie. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit for days."
"God damnit, Starsky. I said no. Now let me go," Hutch yelled, though he was careful not to move his body.
"I don't give a shit what you said," Starsky yelled back. "I'm gonna have you and there ain't fuck all you can do about it, partner."
"Damn it! You son of a bitch, let me go!" Hutch yelled. The pain in his testicles was making his eyes water. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.
"What did you just call my mother?" Starsky spat. He jerked back on Hutch's balls and smiled at the shriek of pain it caused.
"No... Nothing," Hutch stammered as he fought the pain rolling through him.
"Apologize," came the deadly serious reply.
"I'm sorry," Hutch said immediately.
"That's better." Starsky relented and eased his grip on his partner's now bruised testicles. "Now I think someone here needs a little lesson in who's in control. And since I'm not the one cryin' over his balls being crushed, I don't think that someone's me. Am I right?"
"Yes," Hutch replied quickly. "You're right."
"What am I right about?" Starsky pressed.
"That I need a lesson in who's in...in c-control," Hutch stammered.
Starsky reached out and ran his hands over his partner's back. Hutch was shaking now, his body confused amid the cacophony of signals flooding through it. He rubbed slowly, easing the worst of it. This was, after all, Hutch and he would never truly hurt this man.
"That's right, babe," Starsky said. "Now tell me. Who's in control here?"
"You are, Starsk," Hutch replied.
"And what am I gonna do to prove that to ya?" Starsky pressed.
"Fuck me," Hutch said, his face flushing in unanticipated embarrassment. "You're gonna fuck me."
"What's wrong, babe?" Starsky asked when he saw Hutch flush. "Don't wanna be my pussy tonight?"
Hutch went beet red at his lover's use of...that word. Never in all their lovemaking had he ever thought of himself as that. Now here was Starsky telling him that was all he really was. A pussy. A pussy for his partner to fuck.
― latebloomer, Saturday, 7 June 2008 12:12 (eleven years ago) link
the comments on that lj firefly thing are hilarious, viz a viz:
So, I think Joss Whedon is a rapist because it is impossible for me to believe that a man who produces a show like Firefly, a man who openly objectifies women in his interviews, a man who based the character of Xander Harris (a pro-porn, sex-obsessed teenage male in Buffy) it is imposible for me to believe that this man does not pressure his wife for sex. If he has pressured his wife for sex even if she eventually consented he is still a rapist. I know far too many women who have been, and are being, forced, coerced, manipulated, pressured into sex that they do not want with their male partners. I'd bet anything that Joss is one of these men. And if he is then he is a rapist in my books.
― J.D., Saturday, 7 June 2008 21:50 (eleven years ago) link
Hasn't crossed her mind that his wife might actually like having sex with him?
― chap, Saturday, 7 June 2008 21:52 (eleven years ago) link
i liked 'buffy' but never drank the 'firefly' kool-aid.
― J.D., Saturday, 7 June 2008 21:52 (eleven years ago) link
the SF/fantasy stuff was always the worst/most ignorable thing about buffy anyway. it had more in common with 'she's all that' than anne rice.
― J.D., Saturday, 7 June 2008 21:53 (eleven years ago) link
^ Yeah, the High School/college/teen anxiety smart-mouth zing stuff >>>> stunt men in rubber horror masks stuff.
― DavidM, Saturday, 7 June 2008 22:34 (eleven years ago) link
but clearly it's all rape
― latebloomer, Saturday, 7 June 2008 22:57 (eleven years ago) link
I just read that whole series of 3 posts. The degree of intellectual dishonesty is staggering. Somebody calls bullshit on her using the Dworkin "all sex is rape" formula, and she basically shuts it down and says "go argue with Dworkin, what's wrong with you, I'm just talking about some sci-fi here."
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:07 (eleven years ago) link
A Firefly stan being not very bright, you say? For real??
― Noodle Vague, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:09 (eleven years ago) link
Actually she hates the show pretty viciously.
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:11 (eleven years ago) link
Why the heck she be posting there then??
― Noodle Vague, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:12 (eleven years ago) link
Okay are people (upthread) seriously dismissing certain (pretty arbitrarily defined) elements of pop culture as trash unworthy of academic examination? ON ILFuckingX? WTF.
Have you learned nothing from years of rockism debates? If a significant amount of people consume, enjoy, and identify with any form of media, it's worth examination. Period.
― en i see kay, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:33 (eleven years ago) link
yeah i wrote that off as challops so boring that they weren't even worth the challops thread
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:35 (eleven years ago) link
No, the point is that aspie rube academics only chose to engage in aspects of popular culture that let them live out their still existent adolescent hang-ups, and as such they're excessively covered by "academia" despite being, let's be honest here, of minority interest from both a mainstream and, y'know, "any good" perspective. xp
― The stickman from the hilarious "xkcd" comics, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:36 (eleven years ago) link
"You're what?" Snape hissed out between clenched teeth.
"I'm pregnant, Sev," Harry repeated patiently, sitting down on a nearby chair.
"B-but how could this have happened?" Severus sputtered, all thoughts of the tests he'd been grading flying from his mind.
A twinkle in his eye, Harry said, "Well, when two people love each other very much..."
"I *know* that part, Potter. What I meant was, how could *you* be pregnant? You're a man."
"I am quite aware of that fact, Severus," Harry returned drolly. "But surely you must realize that while I *am* a man, I am also a wizard. A very powerful wizard, in fact, and sometimes very powerful wizards use their magic unconsciously. Remember how I beat Voldemort? He cast the killing curse, and even though I was almost unconscious, and didn't have my wand, I still managed to reflect it so it hit him instead?"
Snape looked at him skeptically. "So you're saying that unconsciously you *wanted* to get pregnant? For Merlin's sake, *why*?!"
Blushing Harry said, "Well, it was after we'd gone to see Ron and 'Mione's new twins. I was thinking that you'd make such a good father, and when you pounced me that evening, I must've focused in on that."
Severus looked surprised at Harry's words -- him, a good father? -- but thought for a moment about their situation.
"Well," he said finally. "I suppose it could happen. But in all cases where male pregnancy has happened, it was a planned event. It had to be, because both parties had to use their magic to make it happen..." He trailed off, his face draining of all color, as he realized what he was implying.
Harry grinned. "I guess it was meant to happen, then."
Severus was at a loss. "But I don't understand -- neither of us knew what the other was thinking, and without joint focus, it *still* shouldn't have happened..."
"Since both of us are powerful wizards, maybe we didn't need to know in order to focus," Harry suggested. "I'm more concerned about the numbers."
"Numbers?" Severus asked, floundering for understanding.
Taking a deep breath, Harry broached the topic cautiously. "Well, we each have at least twice as much magic as most Wizards, and we'd gone to see the twins that evening...and I'm definitely showing more than normal for not being even three months pregnant. My larger stomach was the first clue I had that I *was* pregnant."
"You think we're having twins?" Severus squeaked.
Harry nodded. "I'm not sure, though. But it's possible."
"Oh, wonderful," Severus snarked. "I never planned on us having children to begin with, and now you tell me we're most likely having *two*?"
"Well, Sev, as you pointed out, it takes two to make this spell work. You can't blame all of this on me," Harry said, voice hard.
Sighing, Severus put his head in his hands and said, "I know. But I wish I could."
"Whyever would you want to do that?" Harry demanded, exasperated.
Directing a glare at his husband, Severus said, "Because if I recall, your dog-father still doesn't even know we're married. How in the world are you planning to explain *this* to him?"
Harry gulped. "I-I hadn't thought of that."
Nodding, Severus said, "I thought not."
Practically hyperventilating, Harry summed their situation up in two words: "Oh, shit."
― latebloomer, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:39 (eleven years ago) link
^what he said
― The stickman from the hilarious "xkcd" comics, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:41 (eleven years ago) link
I think that's valid in and of itself, though, given that modern Western culture is so lacking in universally accepted rites of passage that large swaths of society don't really ever leave adolescence.
Also, minority interest? Welcome to decentralized modern culture. Everything is a minority interest.
xxpost oh fuck it, the HP fanfic has been brought, shit is over.
― en i see kay, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:44 (eleven years ago) link
Welcome to decentralized modern culture. Everything is a minority interest.
Increasingly true but not universally. (Mistaking Net-heavy life with its easily accessible multiplicity of choices for whatever constitutes reality is the problem here -- this ain't the past but it's not quite the future yet.)
― Ned Raggett, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:52 (eleven years ago) link
fyi dude is british
― BIG HOOS aka the steendriver, Saturday, 7 June 2008 23:55 (eleven years ago) link
I just read that whole series of 3 posts. The degree of intellectual dishonesty is staggering. Somebody calls bullshit on her using the Dworkin "all sex is rape" formula, and she basically shuts it down and says "go argue with Dworkin, what's wrong with you, I'm just talking about some sci-fi here.
And it happens not just once but several times, and the women calling her on it are (allegedly) rape victims themselves who are offended by her rhetoric. Plus she gives a big-ol' middle finger to women of color too, as several folks point out.
Of course it's not really a secret that most radfem doesn't really give a shit about real-life victims, not to mention racism, but it's still pretty gross. But it's pretty clear she's living the lolcat life:
― Charlie Rose Nylund, Sunday, 8 June 2008 00:05 (eleven years ago) link
Still, even the highest rated shows (in America) fail to bring in 50% of households (only three broadcasts in history, early years aside, have done this, all before 1985), and the highest grossing film of the past decade brought in something like 25%. I'm not saying it's totally decentralized or anything, but the idea of almost any piece of pop culture being a 'majority interest' is pretty much a dead idea.
xp This is a good point.
another xpost, obviously should be focusing on my ilx debatez instead of cooking
― en i see kay, Sunday, 8 June 2008 00:11 (eleven years ago) link
I suppose I've just got a problem with anyone saying any subject or reasoning for studying pop culture is invalid. If you don't like what's being said, cool, but criticizing the fact that it's being said just rubs me the wrong way.
― en i see kay, Sunday, 8 June 2008 00:15 (eleven years ago) link
― max, Sunday, 8 June 2008 00:22 (eleven years ago) link
Thanks and plot bunnies (MWAHAHA!) to GlimmerGirl, Angel and ‘The Girls’ for betas, comments, and laffs.
Thanks and plot bunnies (MWAHAHA!) to GlimmerGirl, Angel and ‘The Girls’ for betas, comments, and laffs.
this is an odd thread.
And for what it's worth: the vast majority of 90's tv sci-fi* was shit. SOOOO much horribleness came about when people realized that you could make money with a weekly syndicated program shot on the cheap in vancouver that they just all dove in, and the programming line-up of the Sci-Fi Channel was born. Shit was so bad I stayed away from checking out the updated Battlestar due to memories of all those crap shows that my roommate would watch at like 2 in the morning on a saturday night on some UHF station. Hell, even the Doctor Who tv movie was infected with this, and shot in vancouver!
*at some point, should the discussion ever drunkenly wander back into that area again, it would be worth considering Harlan Ellison's distinction between "science Fiction" and "S.F./Sci-fi"
― kingfish, Sunday, 8 June 2008 11:41 (eleven years ago) link
And for what it's worth: the vast majority of 90's tv sci-fi* was shit
― latebloomer, Sunday, 8 June 2008 11:43 (eleven years ago) link
hated that show so much
Neat idea, tho. First season or so was fun.
― kingfish, Sunday, 8 June 2008 11:51 (eleven years ago) link
modern Western culture is so lacking in universally accepted rites of passage that large swaths of society don't really ever leave adolescence.
let's all gather to celebrate this fact with a conference on '"quantum leap" traversing the end of history'.
― banriquit, Sunday, 8 June 2008 11:57 (eleven years ago) link
here is a blog post, by an academic, about the wire:
thats all folx
― thomp, Friday, 13 June 2008 12:37 (eleven years ago) link
― The stickman from the hilarious "xkcd" comics, Saturday, 23 August 2008 20:10 (eleven years ago) link
― Soukesian, Saturday, 23 August 2008 20:52 (eleven years ago) link
― DG, Saturday, 23 August 2008 20:54 (eleven years ago) link
underneath the clothing and glasses is a cripplingly insecure virgin with attachment problems and an inability to understand normal human interaction
― max, Saturday, 23 August 2008 21:02 (eleven years ago) link
give me a curvy colombian wife any day of the week
― max, Saturday, 23 August 2008 21:03 (eleven years ago) link
hips don't lie
― latebloomer, Saturday, 23 August 2008 21:09 (eleven years ago) link
-- max, Saturday, 23 August 2008 22:03 (6 minutes ago) Bookmark Link
― The stickman from the hilarious "xkcd" comics, Saturday, 23 August 2008 21:11 (eleven years ago) link
Those footie references baffle me every time.
― Soukesian, Saturday, 23 August 2008 21:33 (eleven years ago) link
But then, I'm a SF fan.
― Soukesian, Saturday, 23 August 2008 21:44 (eleven years ago) link
pisode 1: The sliders travel to a world where Stephen Fry is a cockney. Mallory blows him up
Episode 2: The sliders discover an Earth where everyone is gay. Mallory blows it up
Episode 3: The sliders arrive on a world that has been inverted. Guest Starring Corey Haim
Episode 4: The sliders arrive on a world where a black man is president. The black man president is astonishingly heroic, like the one in 24
Episode 5: The sliders arrive on a world with a woman as president. She is awful. Just before they slide to safety, Mallory blows her up
Episode 6: The sliders land on a world where New York and Los Angeles have exchanged position. Mallory blows it up
Episode 7: The sliders land on a world where KROOOMAGS
Episode 8: The Kromaggs slide directly into the sun
Episode 9: The sliders land on a world where televisions are upside down
Episode 10: The sliders land on a world where David Bowie never existed. Mallory blows it up
Episode 11: The sliders land on a world where onions are the size of pumpkins
Episode 12: The sliders go down the toilet but then they can't get out again
Episode 13: The sliders land on a world where Mallory falls over
Episode 14: The sliders land on a world where stairs are replaced with slides
Episode 15: The sliders land on a world where houses are upside down. Mallory blows it up
Episode 16: The sliders land on a world. Before they can look around, Mallory blows it up
Episode 17: On a world where Sliders had been cancelled, the sliders begin to cry
Episode 18: The sliders land on a world where television controls people's miiiiiiiiiiiiinds
Episode 19: The sliders land on a world where grass is blue and the sky is green. Mallory begins to shriek
Episode 20: The sliders land on a world where emotion has been surpressed by a drug known as Prozium
Episode 21: The sliders land on a world where Will and Grace had gay kissing. Mallory runs down the street and shoots a policeman, before they slide to the next world.
Episode 22: The sliders land on a world where bees are replaced with wasps, and vice-versa
Episode 23: The sliders land on a world where they discover that George Lucas is a Kromagg
Episode 24: The sliders land on a world shaped like a giant ubb
Episode 25: The sliders land on a world where all the atoms are in a line
Episode 26: The sliders starve to death because they land on a planet where everyone eats aeroplanes
Episode 27: The sliders land on a world where black people are allowed to vote
Episode 28: The sliders land on a world where there are only five eggs
Episode 29: The sliders land on a world where eveyone is discussing tax
Episode 30: The sliders land on a world where there is no Christianity. Mallory blows it up
Episode 31: The sliders land on a world where Mallory is not allowed to blow anything up
Episode 32: The sliders land on a world where people don't speak English they speak Kromagg, which sounds exactly like English except for its name, which is Kromagg
Episode 33: The sliders land on a world where women can only live by constantly kissing
Episode 34: The sliders land on a world ruled by a giant fat Mallory
Episode 35: The sliders land on a world where fat bearded men are hunted as big game
Episode 36: The sliders land on a world which is Wales
Episode 37: The sliders land on a world where pornography consists of a rotating triangle, emitting a humming sound
Episode 38: The sliders land on a world where everyone is dead
Episode 39: The sliders land on a world where Naked Lunch is the only program ever shown on TV, and also where everyone is constantly terrified
Episode 40: The sliders land on a world where Julian Sands is the only actor
Episode 41: The Sliders land on a world made entirely from tears
Episode 42: The sliders land on a world. It blows up
― Carrie Bradshaw Layfield (The stickman from the hilarious 'xkcd' comics), Monday, 27 October 2008 00:31 (eleven years ago) link
― ian, Monday, 27 October 2008 00:35 (eleven years ago) link
― MPx4A, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:20 (7 months ago) Bookmark Suggest Ban Permalink
― The boy with the Arab money (The stickman from the hilarious 'xkcd' comics), Monday, 5 January 2009 14:30 (eleven years ago) link
lol this thread
ilx needs some sort of ferg repository
― REMOVE THEIR EARS (country matters), Monday, 5 January 2009 14:35 (eleven years ago) link
1. Essentially I love science-fiction because it deals with and explores the need for humans to both come to terms with and improve the conditions of their existence at the highest level (obviously also how they fuck that up).
2. Am curious about those who do not take any interest in science-fiction at all. I can see trivial reasons for their dislike, but taking my brother as an example there was a point where he stopped being a kid and i think that was the point where he also stopped being remotely interested in sci-fi. i'm suggesting that, practically or typically, all boys like it (having been more encouraged than girls to do so, generally and traditionally) until a certain dividing incident (being mocked for it by an older boy? wanting to distance yourself from it due to some acquired insecurity e.g. becoming more disturbed by aspects of it, or because you start associating it too much with people you don't like (this could happen with many other things e.g. sports). could be bollocks but based on personal childhood experience it rings true. i guess there i'm saying 'why wouldn't you love it, at least as a child?' because the visual qualities of the concept are so rich and do touch on my first point
3. I do not like that many sci-fi TV shows or even films but I wouldn't blame "Americanisation" for this - at least that is a hugely problematic term and the wrong word. But most of our influences come, directly or not, from there and through that filter and this also feels problematic and limiting. I suspect when most people say they hate sci-fi they are really talking about the way it's presented as entertainment in the mainstream market and obv. it's the most difficult area to tell convincing or believable stories which many adults have issues with.
4. But I think the biggest problem with sci-fi is how often it jars with human interest on a wide scale, as if they are in unresolvable opposition. Often what you end up with is just stories that don't have any real connection to the technology, environs and conditions the characters are operating in and could be set on historical Earth, because of the idea that as many as possible must be able to relate. Perhaps the best sci-fi accommodates this but transcends it without compromising on challenging, exotic and interesting events and objects (the design of sci-fi things generally being a big factor in the love - visualising things which don't actually exist being empowering). People like Star Wars because of how relatively well it did this.
― Bondzilla vs Mechaholmes (blueski), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:16 (eleven years ago) link
i think the main prob with a lot of scifi is that it requires such a feat of world-building and few people can do that well enough to compete with, you know, the real world.
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:24 (eleven years ago) link
That's why most of best sci-fi tend to exagerrate the real world rather than recreate a new world.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:30 (eleven years ago) link
that says more about the viewer perhaps. you are a certain age before you start going 'nyarrrgh looks so fake' plus you can get great entertainment out of people's attempts to realise the fantastic even whey fail (as they so often do). sci-fi can still be great even if it 'fails' to look as believable as real life. xp
― Bondzilla vs Mechaholmes (blueski), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:31 (eleven years ago) link
do you mean when people try to come up with how aliens and other planets might look?
― Bondzilla vs Mechaholmes (blueski), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:33 (eleven years ago) link
I mean most of the best sci-fi uses the possibilities of our world's future state as a template rather than trying to create a whole new worlds from scratch. There are exceptions though (I love plenty of space operas.)
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:41 (eleven years ago) link
i read a quote when i was a kid that stuck with me, something about the difference between sci-fi and fantasy being that sci-fi takes the real world, changes one thing and asks "what if?", whereas fantasy changes, um, a whole bunch of things.
(no idea who said it but i'm guessing harlan ellison, maybe)
― Tracy Michael Jordan Catalano (Jordan), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:44 (eleven years ago) link
I mean most of the best sci-fi uses the possibilities of our world's future state as a template rather than trying to create a whole new worlds from scratch. There are exceptions though (I love plenty of space operas.)
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, January 27, 2009 5:41 PM (4 minutes ago) Bookmark Suggest Ban Permalink
ya but i find a lot of the time it becomes this narcissism of small differences thing where it's like... almost but not QUITE believable and thus just totally fails
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:46 (eleven years ago) link
reading that scifi hall of fame book i love the datedness of some of the future technology--like people can travel faster than light but still watch "phono-tubes" and "electro-tapes" and stuff like that
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:47 (eleven years ago) link
I think the reasons people actively dislike/ignore SF relate mainly to a distaste for fandom, which isn't unique to SF as a genre but is obviously a very visible aspect of it. The idea that this stuff is a genre at all is problematic I think. I definitely went thru a phase in late teens/early 20s of distaste for any kind of genre fiction - defined as whatever I decided it was. Also even now I'm over that there's still a lingering - contempt is too strong a word but small guilty inner sneer is fair - for adults who primarily enjoy films/books/TV shows/etc as escapist fantasy.
None of that is reasonable or fair, or accurate. They are bad reasons for disliking a huge mass of literature etc. I'm just saying I guess they partly answer one of blueski's questions: a lot of people feel like that at some time in their lives, maybe some people feel like that for most of their adult lives.
I still don't like a lot - maybe the bulk - of "Science Fiction". I don't really like fandom either. But it'll take a while to think about why.
― Theo Wankcott (Noodle Vague), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:48 (eleven years ago) link
this reminds me of previous discussion where someone (n/a?) said CGI errors would never become charming and quaint in that way. xp
― Bondzilla vs Mechaholmes (blueski), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:49 (eleven years ago) link
"ya but i find a lot of the time it becomes this narcissism of small differences thing where it's like... almost but not QUITE believable and thus just totally fails"
I'm not reading sci-fi for believeability.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:51 (eleven years ago) link
ya i know dude but you get what i mean. replace "unbelievable" with "distractingly contrived" then
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:53 (eleven years ago) link
"The idea that this stuff is a genre at all is problematic I think."
Not really. The fact that it was a separate genre was for a long time its greatest asset.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:54 (eleven years ago) link
another thing is that characters are usually really, really, shittily written in scifi, especially women, and a lot of ppl can't get over that.
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:54 (eleven years ago) link
Yeah one of the things that put me off when I was in high aesthete mode was I thought a lot of the writing was terrible, but I was kinda wrong and misjudging on that score, sometimes.
― Theo Wankcott (Noodle Vague), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:56 (eleven years ago) link
you guys dont have to defend scifi from this, im just saying that's WHY a lot of ppl dont like it
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:57 (eleven years ago) link
I don't agree about the genre thing Alex, it lumps together really disparate works in ways that I don't find helpful, and sometimes it acts as a barrier to keep people inside it as well as outside it?
― Theo Wankcott (Noodle Vague), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:58 (eleven years ago) link
Walters fidgeted with his lapel and poured himself another bourbon. His visitor sat across the desk, waiting for an answer with almost inhuman patience. Finally Walters looked up and scowled - "What, you think you're the only one on Terra with problems?"
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:58 (eleven years ago) link
the female characters complaint relates to girls generally being discouraged from sci-fi i guess. but there aren't enough female characters for good and bad to be defined v well. what about all the terrible male characters etc.
― Bondzilla vs Mechaholmes (blueski), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:58 (eleven years ago) link
Also this ^ is true for every genre besides sci fi as well.
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 17:59 (eleven years ago) link
that doesnt mean it's not true of scifi
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:01 (eleven years ago) link
but the argument that there's not enough female characters in scifi for us to determine whether they really are written poorly is, uh, revealing.
"I don't agree about the genre thing Alex, it lumps together really disparate works in ways that I don't find helpful, and sometimes it acts as a barrier to keep people inside it as well as outside it?"
The barriers that kept people in it allowed for a degree of creativity that wouldn't have occured if they were writing short fiction for the Atlantic or the Saturday Evening Post of whatever.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:02 (eleven years ago) link
Ray Bradbury used to write for Collier's!
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:03 (eleven years ago) link
yeah it's MORE the case with sci-fi, just as there are more women in rock n' roll or R&B than in electronic/dance
― Bondzilla vs Mechaholmes (blueski), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:03 (eleven years ago) link
"but the argument that there's not enough female characters in scifi for us to determine whether they really are written poorly is, uh, revealing."
Except it's basically nonsense.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:03 (eleven years ago) link
I'd argue that SF writing has become wayyyyyy more nichified these days
But I won't, I'll just say it and you'll have to accept it
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:04 (eleven years ago) link
"yeah it's MORE the case with sci-fi, just as there are more women in rock n' roll or R&B than in electronic/dance"
There are plenty of woman sci-fi writers (and fans) from the earliest days. This idea that sci-fi is a straight boys club is flat wrong.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:05 (eleven years ago) link
but the argument that there's not enough female characters in scifi for us to determine whether they really are written poorly is, uh, revealing
i'm just saying, this is not sci-fi's fault! surely no-one is thinking 'this character sucks and thus has ruined the entire genre for me'.
― Bondzilla vs Mechaholmes (blueski), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:05 (eleven years ago) link
There are plenty of woman sci-fi writers (and fans) from the earliest days.
plenty as in enough?
― Bondzilla vs Mechaholmes (blueski), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:08 (eleven years ago) link
and are you suggesting sci-fi is no more male character-orientated than other genres? was it ever?
― Bondzilla vs Mechaholmes (blueski), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:09 (eleven years ago) link
(gotta go now tho, back in the morning)
has anyone done a scifi abuse memoir yet?
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:11 (eleven years ago) link
Plenty enough to undermine the argument that it's exclusively the province of a bunch of dudes.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:12 (eleven years ago) link
"and are you suggesting sci-fi is no more male character-orientated than other genres? was it ever?"
That's a difficult characterization to make. What genres? Since when? Some of the earliest sci-fi adventure stories are definitely very very macho. But compared to mysteries? Or crime fiction? Or even conventional literature?
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:15 (eleven years ago) link
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, January 27, 2009 6:03 PM (14 minutes ago) Bookmark Suggest Ban Permalink
that's what im saying.
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:19 (eleven years ago) link
B-b-ut Alex, what is the sci-fi equivalent of the cozy?
― lemmy tristano (James Redd and the Blecchs), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:19 (eleven years ago) link
hmm, Joe Haldeman to thread.
― WmC, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:21 (eleven years ago) link
love science-fiction because it deals with and explores the need for humans to both come to terms with and improve the conditions of their existence at the highest level
I've always seen scifi as more about the technology that about the characters. As already noted, there are countless examples of shittily drawn or cliched charactets in scifi, but that's never bothered me as long as the book is full of wicked radical tech ideas, dude. OTOH a well-drawn, character based story in which the future world is merely a backdrop, doesn't interest me nearly as much (not sure who would really fit under this, maybe Ballard?)
IOW it's about the ideas, not the characters or the writing, hence the lack of universal appeal, not everyone is interested in giant spaceships and super smart AIs n shit.
Maybe this is true to an extent for all genre fiction? Perhaps characters are more important in e.g. detective fiction, since obviously the stories have to revolve around people; but still, it won't sell if you don't have a decent central mystery.
― talk me down off the (ledge), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:23 (eleven years ago) link
maybe Time Traveler's Wife or And She Crawled Across the Table?
― Tracy Michael Jordan Catalano (Jordan), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:25 (eleven years ago) link
There are plenty of woman sci-fi writers (and fans) from the earliest days. This idea that sci-fi is a straight boys club is flat wrong.
yeah Alex OTM - female characters abound in sci-fi, and writers/fans don't seem to be lacking either.
of course I say this as someone who is married to a woman who has collected everything Ann McCaffrey has ever written since she was a little girl lolz
― Courtney Love's Jew Loan Officer (Shakey Mo Collier), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:27 (eleven years ago) link
both are pretty obvious attempts at genre-splicing though
― Tracy Michael Jordan Catalano (Jordan), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:27 (eleven years ago) link
not sure who would really fit under this, maybe Ballard
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:28 (eleven years ago) link
leguin comes to mind
― Tracer Hand, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:29 (eleven years ago) link
btw there is a whole convention here dedicated to feminist sci-fi
― Tracy Michael Jordan Catalano (Jordan), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:29 (eleven years ago) link
"OTOH a well-drawn, character based story in which the future world is merely a backdrop, doesn't interest me nearly as much (not sure who would really fit under this, maybe Ballard?)"
I'd actually say that a lot of Dick is like this.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:30 (eleven years ago) link
Leguin's more like a sociologist but to say that the worlds/backdrops in the Dispossessed or Left Hand of Darkness are not the REAL characters/focus of the novels is sorta uhhhh. Ballard clearly big on how environment shapes people as well, that's kind of his whole schtick.
― Courtney Love's Jew Loan Officer (Shakey Mo Collier), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:30 (eleven years ago) link
Oh some of Ballard's short stories are definitely about the ideas, but The Vermillion Sands stuff is all about the characters imo. Delany as well, e.g. "Driftglass", puffed on the back of my collection as "one of the three finest science fiction stories ever written", could pretty much have been written about a coal mining community 200 years ago.
― talk me down off the (ledge), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:31 (eleven years ago) link
PKD never cared about technology, really - agree that the tropes of sci-fi were used primarily so he could explore metaphysics and his own psychological issues/fascinations
― Courtney Love's Jew Loan Officer (Shakey Mo Collier), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:31 (eleven years ago) link
god I have to read more of these authors and get out of my LCD pulp whore rut
― Barack You Like A Husseincane (HI DERE), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:31 (eleven years ago) link
Admittedly this character based scifi is a huge and well respected part of the genre, I just prefer the hard stuff. Egan, Reynolds, I guess even Clarke and Asimov.
― talk me down off the (ledge), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:33 (eleven years ago) link
(multi x-post)Detective fiction has some incidental benefits to fall back on that can make it tolerable to good even when it's not great. One being local color, whether it be dirty New York City subways or fancy meals in Sicily or dreary Scandinavian winters. Sci-fi, when it's not good, can be really, really bad. For every "Scanners Live In Vain" or "Roadside Picnic" there's ... a bunch of other stuff.
― lemmy tristano (James Redd and the Blecchs), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:35 (eleven years ago) link
And I think the general perception of scifi is that it is all hard stuff. Or cheesy space operas. (xp to self)
― talk me down off the (ledge), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:35 (eleven years ago) link
I've always seen scifi as more about the technology that about the characters. As already noted, there are countless examples of shittily drawn or cliched charactets in scifi, but that's never bothered me as long as the book is full of wicked radical tech ideas, dude
This is sorta true for me with the caveat that its not just the tech ideas that appeal to me - its a more general conceptual freedom that I appreciate it. Like, not just the technical ideas, but the range of social/political/metaphysical/literary ideas that are foregrounded in sci-fi. It goes back to that "sci-fi is the 'what if...?'"-oriented genre quote - sci-fi for a long time just seemed to present a wilder range of possibilities than other forms of fiction. As long as the ideas are provocative, I am willing to slog through a fair amound of poor prose or stock characters or what-have-you.
― Courtney Love's Jew Loan Officer (Shakey Mo Collier), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:39 (eleven years ago) link
^^^ Shakey's got it.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:40 (eleven years ago) link
Speaking of space operas, Tom Disch called this "space opera gone to heaven."
― lemmy tristano (James Redd and the Blecchs), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:41 (eleven years ago) link
As long as the ideas are provocative, I am willing to slog through a fair amound of poor prose or stock characters or what-have-you.
― lemmy tristano (James Redd and the Blecchs), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:46 (eleven years ago) link
appleseed is awesome dude xpost
― Lamp, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:47 (eleven years ago) link
I'm liking it so far. It's kind of rough sledding because it's so dense, but in a good way.
― lemmy tristano (James Redd and the Blecchs), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 18:49 (eleven years ago) link
― lemmy tristano (James Redd and the Blecchs), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:22 (eleven years ago) link
i can think of iconic characters in other genres--sam spade, philip marlowe, allan quartemain etc—but are there any really iconic SF characters OUTSIDE of stuff like star wars?
― s1ocki, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:25 (eleven years ago) link
there are too many to count
in any case:
Remembering Thomas Disch
The theme of the conference that year was “The Writer’s Imagination and the Imagination of the State.” Many of the attending writers denied that the state or any collective could have an imagination; Mailer, however, stated that the imagination of the American state could be shown in the project of reaching the moon, which was both imaginative and collective. I don’t know if Tom Disch heard him say that, but his opening remarks at our panel were similar and yet more far-reaching. If the state—the American state particularly—could be said to have an imagination, he said, it lay in the plans and projects of all the middle-level technocrats and engineers and scientists not only of NASA but of the RAND Corporation and DARPA and the science institutes, whose speculations would become plans that the state might enact. And what writers, he asked, shaped their imaginations? What had they read as boys (almost all of them were men)? Why, science fiction: a kind of writing that, to a degree greater than any other, posits worlds different from our own that we believe are possible and think we might bring about.
― Milton Parker, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:27 (eleven years ago) link
I've always seen scifi as more about the technology that about the characters.
My favourite aspect is the mechanics of imagined societies rather than the technology per se (of course, technological advances are usually a huge part of what makes these societies different to ours). But yeah, SF is not 'about' characters the way many other forms of fiction are - although it does help if they're not completely one dimensional!
― chap, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:28 (eleven years ago) link
Flash GordonDoctor WhoBuck Rogers
to name a couple.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:28 (eleven years ago) link
Hari Seldon, Lazarus Long, Ender Wiggin, HAL9000,
― WmC, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:30 (eleven years ago) link
― chap, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:30 (eleven years ago) link
Gully Foyle is my name And Terra is my nation Deep space is my dwelling place The stars my destination
― Jarlrmai, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:31 (eleven years ago) link
John Carter, Gully Foyle,
― WmC, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:32 (eleven years ago) link
Captain Nemo to go pretty far back.
― chap, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:33 (eleven years ago) link
Deckard, Paul Atreides. But I think there is a good point here, if you look at any of those "best sci-fi books of all-time" lists, I bet the characters aren't the first thing that comes to mind (I just googled for a couple of said lists and couldn't remember the names of any characters in, say, The Man in the High Castle).
― Tracy Michael Jordan Catalano (Jordan), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:34 (eleven years ago) link
Even Frankenstien's Monster.
― chap, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:34 (eleven years ago) link
"I bet the characters aren't the first thing that comes to mind"
Except for Stars, Demolished Man, Fury!, etc.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:35 (eleven years ago) link
Or Neuromancer, Book of the New Sun.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:38 (eleven years ago) link
I don't know...even in Ringworld, as hard-science as it is, I think of Louis Wu as quickly as I think of "a terraformed ring around a star".
― WmC, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:40 (eleven years ago) link
Even Frankenstien's Monster
― lemmy tristano (James Redd and the Blecchs), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:41 (eleven years ago) link
Looking at the Pringle list I definitely think mostly about the characters on the books I've read (although in A Case of Conscience the character is some dinosaur thing.0
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:45 (eleven years ago) link
Really need to read the Ophiuchi Hotline, it's been in my to read stack for like a year now.
― Alex in SF, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:46 (eleven years ago) link
buffy the vampire is some classic science fiction, obvs
― max arrrrrgh, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:52 (eleven years ago) link
nevermind that the premise of the show has nothing to do with science or technology, and even a small child could tell you that it's horror... that's just fanboy nitpicking.
― max arrrrrgh, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 19:54 (eleven years ago) link
If the state—the American state particularly—could be said to have an imagination, he said, it lay in the plans and projects of all the middle-level technocrats and engineers and scientists not only of NASA but of the RAND Corporation and DARPA and the science institutes, whose speculations would become plans that the state might enact. And what writers, he asked, shaped their imaginations? What had they read as boys (almost all of them were men)? Why, science fiction: a kind of writing that, to a degree greater than any other, posits worlds different from our own that we believe are possible and think we might bring about.
lolz I have totally thought this very same thing for years and always kinda figured that if you really wanted to play a visionary/"change the world" function the best way to do that would be to work in the genre of science fiction
― Courtney Love's Jew Loan Officer (Shakey Mo Collier), Tuesday, 27 January 2009 21:23 (eleven years ago) link
my friend Megan Prelinger is working on a book that chronicles the history of air & space industries' advertisements in science fiction pulp magazines, 1940-1970. the way the advertisements responded to and included references to major works of sci-fi as the canon developed. it's incredible the book hasn't been written yet.
― Milton Parker, Tuesday, 27 January 2009 21:37 (eleven years ago) link
Okay folks, as Ned once requested, I need good escapist novels. No fascistic dystopias or massive stress-inducing downer tomes. I have enough problems with anxiety right now to add to any of them. I'd read 'Glory Road'(either Heinlein's or Alan Dean Foster's) again, but I think I sold/gave away my copies years ago.
Also, after seeing Coraline last week, I could do with some more good urban fantasy.
Funny is preferred.
― kingfish, Thursday, 26 March 2009 07:42 (eleven years ago) link
As far as urban fantasy goes, how about something like Charles De Lint - Dreams Underfoot. Not particularly funny, but I like it.
― james k polk, Thursday, 26 March 2009 07:50 (eleven years ago) link
― Tracer Hand, Thursday, 26 March 2009 12:23 (eleven years ago) link
A.E. Van Vogt
― Tracer Hand, Thursday, 26 March 2009 12:24 (eleven years ago) link
Mission of Gravity
― WmC, Thursday, 26 March 2009 12:56 (eleven years ago) link
felix gilman thunderer
― kamerad, Thursday, 26 March 2009 15:34 (eleven years ago) link
huh I've never read any Sheckley, must investigate
― Featuring Ben Jones as Geir's Cooter (Shakey Mo Collier), Thursday, 26 March 2009 15:50 (eleven years ago) link
Not even the much anthologized sluglord approved "Zirn Left Unguarded, The Jenghik Palace in Flames, Jon Westerley Dead"?
― moe greene dolphin street (James Redd and the Blecchs), Thursday, 26 March 2009 15:56 (eleven years ago) link
I don't think so...? I can count the number of anthologies I've read in the last ten years on one hand
― Featuring Ben Jones as Geir's Cooter (Shakey Mo Collier), Thursday, 26 March 2009 15:57 (eleven years ago) link
anyone here fuck with any alastair reynolds? new one seems cool
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 13:53 (nine years ago) link
yeah he's been enthused about on the ilb threads. superb combo of hard skiffy and space opera, although i get a bit bored when it's all planet based, no huge spaceships or vast distances and timescales (chasm city i'm lookin at you). also his characters are overly keen on holding very long very pointless grudges. am only two novels in to the revelation space series tho, never mind the new stuff.
― xtc ep, etc (xp) (ledge), Friday, 19 November 2010 14:23 (nine years ago) link
haha that's why i didnt bother to read chasm city
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 14:24 (nine years ago) link
anyway the new one - terminal world - has a cool premise, it's like these layered cities that have progressively higher technology as you move up the chain - "horsetown" then "steamtown" then "neontown" then "circuittown" etc
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 14:25 (nine years ago) link
i mean cool if you're a nerd
It's been okay to be a nerd for a long time now.
― Unfrozen Caveman Board-Lawyer (WmC), Friday, 19 November 2010 14:30 (nine years ago) link
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 14:31 (nine years ago) link
fo' reals? someone needed to let me know.
― Roberto Spiralli, Friday, 19 November 2010 14:31 (nine years ago) link
I'd say the nerd was out of the bag since X-Files and Buffy, which coincided with the internet giving them/us a place to play.
― Unfrozen Caveman Board-Lawyer (WmC), Friday, 19 November 2010 15:10 (nine years ago) link
Reynolds is a mid ranker for me. Some cool ideas and good action, but nothing to really set him apart from the herd. He's better than Neal Asher at least.
Does anyone rate Peter F. Hamilton? The guy can't write for shit and almost certainly has some fairly dodgy politics (ethnically streamed space colonies proving to be an amazing thing for the human race? Hmmm...), but no-one does outer space bombast like him. His universe-building is kind of impeccable too. I haven't read anything he's written in the last decade or so though.
Also I see there's a new Culture novel out...
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:16 (nine years ago) link
I tried a +1000 page Hamilton on holiday once. Gave up when I realised there was not a shred of a consideration or understanding of solid science behind any of his flights of fancy. I mean I don't want everyone to be a phd-toting Greg Egan-alike but when it became clear that the book was about the SOULS OF THE DEAD COMING BACK AND TAKING OVER LIVING HUMAN BODIES...
― xtc ep, etc (xp) (ledge), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:23 (nine years ago) link
Really not looking forward to the new Culture, apparently it's going to be full of unpleasant descriptions of torture. And doubtless the baddie will get an ultra-violent comeuppance at the end.
― xtc ep, etc (xp) (ledge), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:26 (nine years ago) link
SOULS OF THE DEAD COMING BACK AND TAKING OVER LIVING HUMAN BODIES
that sounds awesome :(
― progressive cuts (Tracer Hand), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:27 (nine years ago) link
ya I'm not hearing great things :(
bought it though
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:28 (nine years ago) link
apparently it's going to be full of unpleasant descriptions of torture
Given how the Culture books have operated as overarching metaphor for now I can't say I'm surprised...
― Ned Raggett, Friday, 19 November 2010 16:31 (nine years ago) link
I liked the undead conceit of the Night's Dawn trilogy! It was something different. And I couldn't really give a fig how solid the physics is, he dazzled me with a lot of long psuedo-scientific words, and that's always good enough for me.
Pity if the new Culture turns out to be shit. Matter built up splendidly, I thought, but the final third was disgustingly lazy.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:33 (nine years ago) link
Yeah if supernatural creeps into my skiffy, that's when I get off the bus. Science fiction! The clue's in the name!
The end of Matter was rushed but I don't think I'd write off the whole final third. Was a pretty great rollercoaster ride for however long it lasted anyway.
― xtc ep, etc (xp) (ledge), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:38 (nine years ago) link
Just finished the new Culture novel last night and.......I have to admit to skimming a lot of the backstory about the political maneuvering between different factions of aliens etc etc blah blah WHEN IS SOMETHING GOING TO HAPPEN. Kind of feel like it could have been condensed some amount without rly losing anything -- is he too famous for an editor, now?
Kind of fell flat for me.
― I've got ten bucks. SURPRISE ME. (Laurel), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:39 (nine years ago) link
Also it's freaking huge so good luck balancing it in one hand on the bus/train while hanging onto a support bar with the other. I think I have RSI now.
― I've got ten bucks. SURPRISE ME. (Laurel), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:40 (nine years ago) link
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, November 19, 2010 11:33 AM (6 minutes ago) Bookmark
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:41 (nine years ago) link
Also it's freaking huge so good luck balancing it in one hand on the bus/train while hanging onto a support bar with the other. I think I have RSI now.
― I've got ten bucks. SURPRISE ME. (Laurel), Friday, November 19, 2010 11:40 AM (1 minute ago) Bookmark
LOL it was the first book i bought for my kindle
Oh, this is that fun Passantino thread. Good times.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:42 (nine years ago) link
I like Banks' potted histories when there are dry little fillips, like if a one-sentence summing up of how the historic character met his extremely ironic end is hidden in the lesson, and they buoy you up from one to another. But a good bit of this one just seemed like "You'll need to know this later for the plot to make sense."
― I've got ten bucks. SURPRISE ME. (Laurel), Friday, 19 November 2010 16:44 (nine years ago) link
i really really want to write a sci-fi novel, i hope i can find the time in my life sometime in the next couple years.
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 17:18 (nine years ago) link
I'm so old-school pedant that I hate the term sci-fi. IT'S "SF" DAMMIT! #tiresomepeopleintheirforties
― Unfrozen Caveman Board-Lawyer (WmC), Friday, 19 November 2010 17:49 (nine years ago) link
SORRY I WANT TO WRITE A SF NOVS
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 17:52 (nine years ago) link
actually its SyFy now
― Roberto Spiralli, Friday, 19 November 2010 17:52 (nine years ago) link
― Unfrozen Caveman Board-Lawyer (WmC), Friday, 19 November 2010 17:56 (nine years ago) link
― Roberto Spiralli, Friday, 19 November 2010 17:58 (nine years ago) link
if you're gonna read reynolds i rep for 'house of suns'
― omar little, Friday, 19 November 2010 18:00 (nine years ago) link
that channel's logo is an amazing blood boiler
― ali-baba-boob-job-bomb.jpg (DJP), Friday, 19 November 2010 18:00 (nine years ago) link
to say nothing of their utterly shit programming
― you can sub out "bipartisan solutions" for "some of my dick" (Shakey Mo Collier), Friday, 19 November 2010 18:02 (nine years ago) link
Tends to rush his endings does Reynolds. The final Revelation Space book is particularly bad for this. Still read most of his stuff, House of Suns and Pushing Ice are pretty decent stand alone works yeah.
― Number None, Friday, 19 November 2010 18:03 (nine years ago) link
thank god for the xpost notification, that allowed me to come to my senses and NOT post the "Sharktopus" trailer
― ali-baba-boob-job-bomb.jpg (DJP), Friday, 19 November 2010 18:06 (nine years ago) link
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, November 19, 2010 5:18 PM (1 hour ago) Bookmark
I've tried it is hard.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, 19 November 2010 18:43 (nine years ago) link
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 18:49 (nine years ago) link
Er... Know more about science than I do.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, 19 November 2010 18:50 (nine years ago) link
As a Philip K Dick fan I don't necessarily mind if my SF has some wibbling about psychics, supernatural powers and the living dead instead of any science, but I picked up "The Siege of Eternity" by Frederick Pohl and was disgusted to discover (possible spoilers but I think everything I mention becomes apparent fairly early on):
1. the plot devolved into some arsewater about space aliens reviving the souls of everyone who'd ever lived2. it was the middle of a series with no indication on the outside of the book, and the last page was pretty much just an advert for the next book, which by that point I had no desire to read3. also, a bunch of gratuitous hokey sex scenes - maybe I'm a prude but with some SF authors a female protagonist is such a red flag - "women only exist to be sexy, and the only notable feature of this flimsy caricature is that she is an intergalactic beacon of sexiness, start dreading the embarrassing sex scenes now"
so, Frederick Pohl is on my bad list, unless someone wishes to tell me otherwise (maybe his older work is better?)
― moiré eel (a passing spacecadet), Friday, 19 November 2010 18:52 (nine years ago) link
I'm sorry, you said there were embarrassing sex scenes...?
― ali-baba-boob-job-bomb.jpg (DJP), Friday, 19 November 2010 18:52 (nine years ago) link
Gateway by Pohl is fantastic. Never read any of the sequels though. Don't think there were any sex scenes, embarrassing or otherwise.
― Number None, Friday, 19 November 2010 19:14 (nine years ago) link
Pohl turned into a bit of a hack as the years have worn on but some of 70s/early 80s work is canonical imho - especially Jem, and the Space Merchants and Merchants' War (great satire of "capitalism in space")
― you can sub out "bipartisan solutions" for "some of my dick" (Shakey Mo Collier), Friday, 19 November 2010 19:16 (nine years ago) link
and the Gateway books are uniformly solid
― you can sub out "bipartisan solutions" for "some of my dick" (Shakey Mo Collier), Friday, 19 November 2010 19:17 (nine years ago) link
Gateways are dope
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 19:22 (nine years ago) link
been reading Hyperion by Dan Simmons...shit is bananas
― glengarry glenn danzig (latebloomer), Friday, 19 November 2010 19:31 (nine years ago) link
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, November 19, 2010 1:49 PM (32 minutes ago) Bookmark
just don't forget that There Ain't No Stealth In Space:
that whole site's a fun read
― Onigaga (Princess TamTam), Friday, 19 November 2010 19:32 (nine years ago) link
dan simmons is bananas overall and pretty inconsistent afaict. read and enjoyed 'the terror', tried to read 'carrion comfort' and wanted to burn the book after 40 pages.
― omar little, Friday, 19 November 2010 19:34 (nine years ago) link
― Dom Passantino, Tuesday, 3 June 2008 13:21 (2 years ago)
― nakhchivan, Friday, 19 November 2010 19:37 (nine years ago) link
SMG is a jew
― Onigaga (Princess TamTam), Friday, 19 November 2010 19:38 (nine years ago) link
guessing he knew that
― nakhchivan, Friday, 19 November 2010 19:40 (nine years ago) link
The "bazooka" part is accurate, but not the "hiding" part. If the spacecraft are torchships, their thrust power is several terawatts. This means the exhaust is so intense that it could be detected from Alpha Centauri. By a passive sensor.
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 19 November 2010 19:48 (nine years ago) link
Ha I have just this moment read a Reynolds short story where stealth by way of directional radiation plays a part.
― xtc ep, etc (xp) (ledge), Saturday, 20 November 2010 00:12 (nine years ago) link
lol @ dom tryna use fancy pants left wing cult-crit theories to rag on nerds. 'cuz the sopranos is totes pc, right?
― ed chilliband (max arrrrrgh), Saturday, 20 November 2010 01:50 (nine years ago) link
Dan Simmons is indeed bananas. I like him.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Saturday, 20 November 2010 01:57 (nine years ago) link
The first and second Hyperion books are the best things of his I've read by some distance.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Saturday, 20 November 2010 01:59 (nine years ago) link
― glengarry glenn danzig (latebloomer)
They're a blast, just stop after The Fall of Hyperion. I've successfully convinced myself the two Endymion books don't exist but it took a decade.
I really liked The Terror and much of the Ilium/Olympos pair (though some of the racial/ethnic stuff is a huge mess I had to SMH at). I've had Drood for a while but haven't gone back to it after it failed to grab me. As Omar said, incredibly inconsistant writer but chockfull of ideas.
― EZ Snappin, Saturday, 20 November 2010 02:04 (nine years ago) link
the Ilium/Olympos pair (though some of the racial/ethnic stuff is a huge mess I had to SMH at)
Yeah, there's some right weird stuff about Israel iirc. Still, lots of dazzling things going on in those books. I loved the Proust-loving robot probe thing.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Saturday, 20 November 2010 13:00 (nine years ago) link
John Crowley's "Great Work of Time" blew my head up this week
― Raage Saga (Noodle Vague), Saturday, 20 November 2010 13:03 (nine years ago) link
Just been to Tate Britain, saw a piece by Gerard Byrne with Dutch amateur actors re-enacting a 1963 Playboy interview with the great and the good of scifi - Clarke, Bradbury, Heinlen, Pohl, Sturgeon, etc, about the state of the world in 1984 and beyond. Very optimistic, albeit lightheartedly, sometimes even satirically, about automation and leisure, longevity, medicine and recreational narcotics, and especially the space race - space travel cheaper than air travel; the moon by the 70s and Mars and Venus by the 80s. Aside from video calls and conferencing, nothing about the information revolution. Makes you wonder what unforeseen transformations await us in the next 50 years.
― xtc ep, etc (xp) (ledge), Sunday, 21 November 2010 16:57 (nine years ago) link
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Sunday, 21 November 2010 17:04 (nine years ago) link
cool i can't hardly wait!
― xtc ep, etc (xp) (ledge), Sunday, 21 November 2010 17:06 (nine years ago) link
they are coming very soon iirc!
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Sunday, 21 November 2010 17:06 (nine years ago) link
Makes you wonder what unforeseen transformations await us in the next 50 years
― a ticker tape of "must not fuck up" (Noodle Vague), Sunday, 21 November 2010 17:39 (nine years ago) link
Oh, that is a lovely, lovely story. So good!
― buildings with goats on the roof (James Morrison), Sunday, 21 November 2010 22:45 (nine years ago) link
Anyone read "The Quantum Thief" by Hannu Rajaniemi? Read some froth about it being the SF debut of the year. Amazon reviews look intriguing but make it sound kind of daunting.
― moiré eel (a passing spacecadet), Friday, 26 November 2010 13:31 (nine years ago) link
That sounds right up my street.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, 26 November 2010 14:01 (nine years ago) link
whenever I hear the word quantum, i reach for my revolver
― e.g. delegates at a set age (ledge), Friday, 26 November 2010 14:01 (nine years ago) link
...and end unwittingly causing a typhoon in South East Asia.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, 26 November 2010 14:03 (nine years ago) link
weird, i was looking at the reviews of Quantam Thief earlier as well! anyone?
― zappi, Friday, 26 November 2010 15:27 (nine years ago) link
I've bought a copy, and it seems genuinely interesting but I've only read one chapter so far.
― treefell, Friday, 26 November 2010 15:29 (nine years ago) link
I've been reading some Adam Roberts, he's pretty good. Not at all hard. Some real oddball concepts and fairly literary.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, 26 November 2010 16:15 (nine years ago) link
Also often very funny. He moonlights writing Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter spoofs, presumably for ££.
― A brownish area with points (chap), Friday, 26 November 2010 16:17 (nine years ago) link
reading the new culture, am pretty into it
― shirley summistake (s1ocki), Friday, 26 November 2010 20:39 (nine years ago) link
The Quantum Thief is pretty cool. It doesn't take any prisoners though. Rajaniemi is a String Theorist by trade; the weird, cutting-edge science stuff is laid on pretty thick and with no quarter given to those who might have no idea as to what on earth he might be talking about...
― Stone Monkey, Friday, 26 November 2010 21:45 (nine years ago) link
just finished the quantum thief - it was great. a lot left unexplained but it had enough of a 'human' (or post-human even) story underpinning the crazy stuff to keep me reading. the stuff abt the exomemory + 'gevulot' was particularly cool
― whitney from mtv's the city (tpp), Thursday, 13 January 2011 19:20 (nine years ago) link
i'm currently reading 'stories of your life and others' by ted chiang....wow
― whitney from mtv's the city (tpp), Thursday, 13 January 2011 19:25 (nine years ago) link
so are there any good SF novels of the endgame of climate change? I could google, but that's no fun.
― Pangborn to be Wilde (Dr Morbius), Thursday, 26 July 2012 18:43 (seven years ago) link
the bacigalupi(?) thing, The Wind-up Girl touches on this. it's not about that, but is set in a post climate change, post GM crop disaster world. (i didn't like it tbh)
(wow, i spelt bacigalupi right!)
― koogs, Thursday, 26 July 2012 19:33 (seven years ago) link
John Brunner "The Sheep Look Up"
― Dunn O)))))))) (Shakey Mo Collier), Thursday, 26 July 2012 21:37 (seven years ago) link
I can think of a bunch of books that touch on it or use it as background (Robinson's Mars Trilogy, for example), but that's the only one springing to mind that uses it as the central focus
― Dunn O)))))))) (Shakey Mo Collier), Thursday, 26 July 2012 21:38 (seven years ago) link
baccy-go-loopy is more about the exhaustion of resources than climate change maybe? but i did read ship-breaker first. i got the feeling that that was one of the coming areas in the genre, that and the neurological basis of consciousness
― thomp, Thursday, 26 July 2012 21:43 (seven years ago) link
I can think of a bunch of books that touch on it or use it as background (Robinson's Mars Trilogy, for example
― Like Monk Never Happened (James Redd and the Blecchs), Thursday, 26 July 2012 21:44 (seven years ago) link
hm forgot Bruce Sterling's "Heavy Weather" uses some serious climate change/weather disruptions as its backdrop. it's not very good though.
haven't read KSR's latest but I wouldn't be surprised
― Dunn O)))))))) (Shakey Mo Collier), Thursday, 26 July 2012 21:44 (seven years ago) link
― thomp, Thursday, 26 July 2012 21:46 (seven years ago) link
Early Ballard disaster novels? The Drowned World, The Burning World...I haven't read The Crystal World so I can't speak to that one.
― Neil Jung (WmC), Thursday, 26 July 2012 21:47 (seven years ago) link
― thomp, Thursday, 26 July 2012 21:48 (seven years ago) link
― Roberto Spiralli, Thursday, 26 July 2012 22:30 (seven years ago) link
― caek, Thursday, 26 July 2012 22:31 (seven years ago) link
Kim Stanley Robinson's 2013 is very very good (and has a load of stuff about climate change if Morbs is still checking this thread).
― I wish to incorporate disco into my small business (chap), Monday, 2 December 2013 02:40 (six years ago) link
Haha, it's actually called 2312. 2013 is the year we are in.
― I wish to incorporate disco into my small business (chap), Monday, 2 December 2013 02:41 (six years ago) link
jonathan frakes telling you you're wrong for 47 seconds pic.twitter.com/zU7HqQjGdN— *gated reverb snare* (@softsynthbear) April 12, 2019
― xyzzzz__, Sunday, 14 April 2019 09:11 (eleven months ago) link