falling_voices

... of how LiveJournal managed to alienate its entire userbase because it wanted to be Facebook when it grew up. LJ, seriously, do you want us to move to DreamWidth? do you?

Well, at any rate, they're hosting a free-signing week over there now, no need for invite codes, so I've opened an account, in case LJNews continues to ignore the fifty pages and counting of people protesting and there's a mass migration. I might not come to use it, but at least it's there, and if needed I can use it to mirror the entries here.

Most of the kinkmemes I'm on have managed to circle round the problem by using Minimalist layout styles that at least allow us to use preview comments and parent threads, thankfully. So far, I think

kinkme_merlin is closest to our normal comment pages, but

sherlockbbc_fic doesn't seem to be doing a bad job either. (Thank everything. I browse that meme in flat view, having no parent option on threads would be horrible.)

And then of course I spent two hours trying to find a layout that would 1. be readable with the comment pages customized, 2. fit ToNC, which with its fuckton of coding doesn't fit most customized comment pages, and 3. actually look good. I've settled on this one, for now; I might switch to a cleaner, black&white one later, I dunno. Thoughts?

On the other hand, there is new (new new new) Sherlock footage.

Dear Sherlock fandom:

I fucking love you today.

Most sincerely,

Sara.

(Seriously though, I thought I'd be able to be strong and hold off on reading spoilers for at least forty-eight hours. This is the state of mind also known as: you are being completely delusional.

But the episode looks really fucking exciting, and I can't wait for Christmas vacation — both a Narnia-inspired DW Special and Scandal in Belgravia within a week of each other. It's like Moffat is trying to whack us over the head with ALL THE AMAZING.)

Research paper for the first semester:

Hitchcock's Rear Window: Perspective and Subjectivity.

Memoir for the master year:

Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew: Text to Screen.

Things I love about being an English major right now:

ALL OF THEM. o/

In other news, this post-Reichenbach!AU I'm trying to finish up has possibly three different timelines and seems to hinge entirely around photography. I'm becoming dreadfully confused. Can't quite count the number of times I've scraped the whole lot and then picked it up again, by now. I just want to tie it all up before S2 starts — after that the AU!dimension'll become more drastic than it already is, and I want to write a John-centric roadtrip after the third episode anyway.

(It doesn't help that TSN fandom hasn't quit being wonderful and I want to write approximately six hundred post-depositions stories.)

eta;

( just found this. hyperventilating now. )

Shamelessly stolen from

fuyu_no_fuhei: Posting the names of all the files in my Sherlock WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Choose one (or a few, I don't care), and I will post a random line or two.

In no particular order of completion, importance, or capitalization:

The Light Discontinued
Our Hugest Home
writer!john
Derringer Sky; android!sherlock
Somewhere From Mars
there's propaganda for you
the grand tour of europe
the Heart!verse (cardiac surgery)
John.txt
angst-ridden pre-reichenbach epic
dust off your converse (time to see the universe) (who!crossover)
TONC!deleted scenes
ETA, I forgot: TTSSish spy!au.

... most of which are both non-descriptive and ridiculous. FML. Or my brain. Or my love for exclamation marks.

(Am now hunting down Downton Abbey season the second (which is apparently nowhere so far), fald;kalskal;sfa OH YOU BEAUTIFUL IDIOTS.)

Guys, if you haven't read

errantcomment's glorious Bridget Jones!Sherlock story yet, don't wait another minute — it's hilarious, and stunningly believable, and has a scrumptious Molly. And, apparently, there's more coming. There are no words for how much I'm looking forward to it.

Secondly, Closing Time. ALL MY FEELINGS, in no sense of order whatsoever.

( Read more... )

Someone force me to write this thing.

Before I throw my desk out the window. I have thought up so many plot points and character motivations and secret detective agencies in the heart of London of all things bloody hell — in the last two days that my head is very much about to explode.

(Um, also: I've watched The God Complex, but the review shouldn't be up until tomorrow or the day after that, due to difficulties in conquering the wifi connection. It won't connect! WHY DON'T YOU CONNECT ANYMORE.)

I've been off to Belgium for the last few days, which was lovely but exhausting as hell — so was the mad run for my train two minutes before departure, really — and somehow I've managed to bring back nothing but Belgian marzipan, which doesn't seem much different from French marzipan, and Mark Gatiss' The Vesuvius Club, which looks incredibly cliché but enormous fun, and also very very gay.

It's been a bit of a last haven for me, this half vacation, since uni starts up again this week — I have to meet with my (hopefully) potential study director over my master thesis tomorrow morning; the Granada!SH study, that. I have absolutely no idea how it'll go down, as Doyle's not much for Classics. Then again, Sherlockian theses are all over the place.

So now I'm going to huddle in my bed and watch The Girl Who Waited, which I've missed, and catch up on the Sherlock ficmeme and nibble marzipan, and try to keep these precious few hours I've got left before uni strikes down again. Social awkwardness, what is that.

Current Mood: tired

Oh hey, guys, I'm abandoning

nuitdenovembre, for now at least. There isn't any actual, logical reason — it just feels redundant and unnecessary, and I rarely ever log in there. Whatever fic there'll be in the future will be posted here again, etc.

Anyway. ToNC, coming your way.

The Theory Of Narrative Causality
sherlock/john.
nc-17. porn. no specific warnings.
sherlock belongs to the beeb, moffat, and gatiss; originally acd's; I make no money and mean no copyright infringement.
written for this prompt: Sherlock and John are BNFs in Sherlock Holmes fandom. Together, they fight crime. (Always.) And write porn, incidentally.

( notes; links )

I have just had the strangest street meeting in my life.

Random Guy Handing People Flyers: Hi! Do you hate the suburbs?
Me: What?
Random Guy Handing People More Flyers: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: What?
awkward pause.
Random Guy Reaching Into His Satchel: Do you think all the people living in the suburbs of Paris are dangerous young thugs who come and set fire to your car in the night?
Me: Er. No?

And then he gave me an erotic book and told me to read it with my (completely hypothetical) boyfriend.

It's mostly sentimental French claptrap about what women like and what men like with horribly tacky salacious puns and little notes like Just remember to make your partner feel good during sex! I'd never have guessed, guys.

Sometimes I'm very thankful to fandom for teaching me more about sex positivity than real life ever managed to.

Also: if all goes well and

misha0529 gets back to me, the final, coded version of ToNC should go up tomorrow. Starting from Monday onwards, though, I'm leaving in vacation, so my access to LJ/the Internet will be very (very, very) limited; if I'm not leaving comments or updating this journal for a long time, that'll be why.

Current Music: These Boots Are Made For Walking — Velvet 99

Things That Really Sucked This Week: A List;

THE HEAT.
uni. ):
work is put off 'till next Monday, which might actually be a good thing if it didn't mean that I get to spend this week running around for filing forms and more paperwork;
worst. bus ride. ever.
administration helllllll

Things That Were Awesome This Week: A List;

( cut for long(ish) )

Current Music: Amy In The TARDIS — Murray Gold

Query: should I first write the BBC!version of Derringer Sky, or this one actor!Sherlock playing Shakespeare story concept that's been spinning round my head these last few days?

Or just

sort of

mesh up the two together

because android!Sherlock quoting Shakespeare might be strangely fantastical. Mm.

ALSO. KAT WROTE THE MOST WONDERFUL ARSENE LUPIN/ELLERY QUEEN TONC-SMASH AND IT IS ALL THE AMAZING. ilu, bb. ♥

Re: more ToNC;

ssarah_s has been created, and will probably start friending/posting tomorrow or the day after; I'm thinking of having her on a semi-hiatus for a while, due to uni, which will probably translate to her having a hell of a lot of surgery-related work and not being able to be around much (timezones, timezones, timezones). Still wondering what the procedure is, about that. Headcanon post?

The final deanon is delayed for a bit, mostly because

misha0529 is currently doing an absolutely amazing job at formatting the whole thing into actual LJ entries and gmail chats, and then I'll take over with more links and some edition. It might take a while, but it'll get done.

In vaguely related news (i.e., in SH-related news, because this is my life right now): I've been watching Granada!verse's Wisteria Lodge yesterday, and now I half want to do a lit!essay of the episode; it's rather amazing in terms of mirrors, windows and dual identity between the characters, and god, I want to so badly. I've spent half the year working on filmic adaptations of literary works, and so much symbolism is the perfect sort of beckon. Oh, I am tempted. I am so very tempted.

Current Location: London Girls — Tori Amos

Oh my god, there's podfic now. Mildly agonizing over the keyboard, ahh.

This has been one hell of a rollercoaster. It's funny how my life online is generally wonderful, and RL is intensely stressful and chaotic, these days — still, no more Sherlock-related writer's block, which is very, very satisfying.

(For those who, well, don't frequent the Sherlock ficmeme, I've written meta!fic. And then it sort of became a 'verse, and there was fic o' fic o' fic. Yes.)

I think I've friended everyone back; so, ah, hello, all of you. I'm a little freaked out by all of this, as well as by

holmeschat and all the related journals, but it's fairly lovely. And flabbergasting. Mostly flabbergasting. (And I keep finding myself thinking I want to write jumperfucker /consulting_detective RPF! and then going oh, hold on. I already have. Damn.)

... and then I came across this, and now I actually want to write Derringer Sky. IDEK. My finals begin on Monday, fic has Do Not Write cerulean blue post-it notes on it.

Also, I've re-watched Shoscombe Old Place yesterday night, in a last-ditch attempt to calm my nerves down after a long day of Thomas Hardy and Shakespeare, and came to the final conclusion that whoever is filming that Tintin movie is going about it the wrong way. They ought to have stolen the TARDIS, gone back to 1991, and borrowed young!Jude Law for a few months. He'd fit the job perfectly.

/still giggling over this. There's fic right there — real!Holmes&Watson die unexpectedly, and Joe Barnes and a friend of his decide to take up their legacy by taking up their name and rooms a few years later. Hence the discrepancies between ACD!Holmes and Ritchie!Holmes. SERIOUSLY, IT MAKES A LOT OF SENSE.

Okay.

What just happened?

(This relates to everything. In my life. Right now.)

Current Mood: indescribable

So both Sherlock and Martin Freeman have won in the BAFTA awards. Yay? I have next to no idea what the BAFTA awards are or what they stand for, and we're fairly drowned in Cannes news over here, but seeing Cumberbatch's sparkly, sparkly shoes more than made up for my lack of knowledge.

Sparkly shoes.

Also, this happened:

"[Sherlock is] the gayest story in the history of television... People certainly run with that which I'm quite happy with! But we all saw it as a love story. Not just a love story, but those two people who do love each other - a slightly dysfunctional relationship sometimes, but a relationship that works. They get results."

— Martin Freeman

/LOLin'

/forever

Rrrrrresults, ooh baby.

Current Mood: giggly

Of a very strange, slanted sort. Somewhat happy, and somewhat ruining my life.

So I ran into this over on the Sherlock ficmeme.

And I. I can't write a Sherlock/To Say Nothing Of The Dog crossover. I just can't. It would be wonderful, and it would fit maddeningly well — the jet-lag and the history, Victorian London and stray, meaningful cats — it would mean tweaking the timeline around (forty years forward, what is that), and I could probably make it understandable enough to someone who hasn't read the book, considering. But. I just.

/BRAIN HAS IMPLODED.

In other news, Edward Hardwicke is dead. I can only hope that, if there's any kind of afterlife somewhere, he's currently having tea and buttered crumpets with Jeremy Brett and rekindling their friendship.

Current Mood: melancholy
Current Music: nobody knows me at all — the weepies

O look, Sherlock recs.

Complementing this post.

( everything starts to fall )

Current Mood: busy

Note to self: never again listen to Eddie Izzard on the morning bus. Ever again. People will just think you're mad. No, seriously.

That said, recording podfic is actually quite fun, all strange French accents and funny th's notwithstanding. I like it. Anything you'd like me to record, people?

I need to work out a writing chart; this is getting out of bounds. I have. Some. Fifteen? works, currently in progress, likely to remain in progress for as long as I don't get a move on and actually finish one. Ironically enough, the one closest to finishing is the one I begun the latest. My life, does it make sense. It doesn't, much. Fortunately, it's also Sherlock, which means I'm actually going to come close to finishing something in this fandom. Five months and as many stories left by the wayside will not be in vain, never mind that this one is some eight thousand words shorter than any its precedessors.

Less fortunately, I have a monster fruk!human!au in the works, as well. Someone give

fireblazie a cookie or a hammer. (Eat the first; knock yourself over the head with the second, this is all your fault.) Yeah, also:

(pretty fruk is mostly for the sake of pretty, and also not mine. dear boys ♥)

Current Music: Mr Blue Sky — Electric Light Orchestra

I am not dead!

Three things, to celebrate this fact and the end of my finals:

1. More Sherlock recs:

wordstrings has updated her Paradox Series, which has made me ridiculously happy two days ago; the

sherlockbigbang is currently posting away, with some fairly gorgeous stuff in it — my personal favourite being Strangers, a futuristic AU in which John Watson is an android built by Sherlock Holmes. The series enfolds from this, with the actual happenings of the episodes (cabbie case, Moriarty), and, on the other hand, the developing of feelings between Sherlock and John, and what this might mean between a human being and a machine with the memories of a human. Lovely read, all around.

2. Happy birthday,

fyliwionvilyaer, you lovely, lovely person ♥

3. I bring thee fic! well, deanon fic, really. But still, fic.

Title: Sign A New Agreement With iTunes
Pairing: France/England
Rating: R.
Word Count: 16,000, jesus.
Summary: One day, you turn around, and everything around you changes. Flatmates!AU. Also known as 'the thing with sticky notes that is pure and utter fluff, oh god I'm such a bloody sap, but this was ridiculously lovely to write, oh yes. ♥'

(this is how the morning goes)

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: Sympathy For The Devil — The Rolling Stones

Oh god lassies and lads I am dying

DYING

On my tombstone you can write

'here lies Sara
killed at age twenty by her midyear finals
because she was busy writing Sherlock fanfic

instead of cramming'

HELLO HELLO SHERLOCK RECLIST. Stripped down to its bare essentials because my bookmarks for this fandom are hello huge, and I apparently can't be arsed to tell you of all the whys and wherefores of each — and so here's a much, much reduced one-list of the best of the best, the white-gold among all the gorgeous silver, la crème de la crème de la crème /etcetc.

in my opinion, anyway

( in which sara goes mildly ballistic, and forgets everything she's ever learnt about french definite articles )

Current Mood: tired
Current Music: Hurricane — The Hush Sound

Good morning, 2011!

Well, okay, afternoon. Er. On January 5th. But still, we all survived another year and didn't blow up any planets, which is very nice indeed.

I spent New Year's Eve drinking cheap wine and eating cheese and watching Sherlock with my best friend, which brings the number of people I've gotten addicted to this show to exactly two. (Sa', my dear, I adore you, but get your arse in gear and watch the damn show.)

My family seems to have gotten the message, too, re: SH, because Christmas got me not only the complete novels and stories, but also the Private Life and the first season of the Granada series (first impressions: Jeremy Brett has the most incredible eyebrows ever, and Burke's Watson is absolutely adorable. Especially this — 'Shh, Watson! this is srs bsns, this man is clearly quite easily flustered, will you please stop laughing — oh, sod it. BWAHAHAHAH.')

And then there's the added wonder of turning a corner whilst trying to juggle a Starbucks latte and two bags and getting a faceful of SURPRISE CUMBERBATCH.

( you are crossing the street on the grands boulevards )

This is deeply disturbing, guys. Le nouveau détective du 21e siècle. Gnk.

i love how it's been like four months since i first watched this show and i still get ridiculously excited at the sight of them

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Baker Street — Gerry Rafferty

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December 2011

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Entries tagged with sherlock

one day they will recount the terrible story

dear fandom; you are the best fandom.

so, about this university place;

le wip meme.

is it my fridge? are there aliens in my fridge?

i shall strangle writer's block someday

also i am very tired just so you know

the theory of narrative causality – master post

these things just happen to me.

hello, life; nice to meet you

turning.

explosions. in my head.

still in shock.

i do think this should count as word of god

murphy's law, i presume.

i remembered the riding crop this time.

holy shit, uni.

the power of stubborness over finals.

and i said dangerous, and here you are

like a great white page to draw upon