Hello all...
It's been ages, I know. What was it some of the most prolific writers in the boards mention again and again, "Real life prevented me from writing and posting"? Story of my life.
In the past two years I've had to deal with deaths, funerals, unemployment, changing apartments and going back to "school" for real since 1995! Yay, me!
Through it all, Farscape and the wonderful and imaginative people it attracts have been a constant reminder of the good that is out there. The fan fiction some of you have posted all over the net, be it in the established FS boards, such as Terra Firma (kudos to the greatest collection of writers and admins), or your own personal pages and blogs has lent me a measure of respite from our so called life.
Thank you. All of you.
Now, what has happened to my own fan fiction and is it ever going to be finished and continued? It will, I promise you it will. But for the coming months I have to keep my focus on my upcoming college admittance exams. So, apart from a few updates every now and then on the goings on in my life and opinions on subjects of common interest, I will not post any more fic 'till well into the summer of this year.
If there are any of you out there who have enjoyed my writing and are waiting to see it finished, I thank you all for your patience.
>From somewhere in the Milky Way,
Red.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Hello folks, once again into the fold!!
After a good long while my inspiration is back and I'm looking forward to finnishing this here baby and continuing the story as I envisioned. So, lean back and let me know what you think.
To Become… One: V (under construction)
It was a very simple plan, really. Simple the way their life was simple. Not at all. In fact, what it most resembled, as Chiana hadn’t doubted in telling her, was what every freak John had met this side of the universe had tried to do or done to him. Mind frell John Crichton.
Aeryn didn’t think she was ready for this. Too bad she did not have an option if she truly wanted the man she loved back amongst the living.
The Interion had been quite explicit, taking into account she had never actually performed or even tried something as fahrbot as her proposed procedure. Why would anyone want to force their consciousness into another being in order to extract information or the very self of the invaded? Oh, right, anyone had not had the pleasure of running into Scorpius.
It all boiled down to this; having spent the last several monens hearing all about their doomed escapades aboard Talyn (she had the Dominar to thank for it, surely), Jool proposed to duplicate the Stykera’s attempt to impersonate a Pilot. Of course, it was a tad more complicated than all that.
Back when they were running from her mother, Stark had connected himself to Talyn in Pilot fashion in order to lure the young hybrid away from a very lethal encounter with the heart of a star. Their stalwart, bodice-clad, self-proclaimed genius insisted the only way for them to recover John’s consciousness was to emulate their departed comrade and use the symbiotic connection of a Pilot with a Leviathan, but with a twist. Figures, every one of their plans had to have a “twist”. Usually the one which sent the whole plan to Hezmana and forced them to fall back on Plan B. Improvise. It’d be funny if it wasn’t tragic.
This time around, the proposed twist required someone other than the afflicted to connect themselves as well, in order to act as the conduit through which John Crichton, human, could anchor himself to reality and climb back out of what ever self imposed tabula rasa he now dwelled. Of course, Aeryn was the only option. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
The whole thing was quite ironic, really.
All of John’s problems (if you ignored the fact the man was stranded who knew how many solar light-years away from his solar system who knew in what direction) had started the moment the human decided to follow his then-unfathomable code of honour (more likely his undeclared love for the raven haired ex-Peacekeeper) and infiltrated a secret Gammak Base coming face to face with the insane, misbegotten half-breed that was Scorpius. That little adventure to save the life of someone who at the time considered him inferior and defective, had earned him a series of sessions at mercy of Leather Face’s pride and joy, the Aurora Chair. Why waist bodily moisture and fuel on conventional torture when you could peel away a person’s memories and inflict an equal or worse amount of pain at the same time? And all at the turn of dial. Your krindars at work, folks.
Scorpius, the bane of their existence, had introduced her gorgeous human to the wonders of invasive explorations of the mind. Because of her. How fitting that it would be she who invaded John’s mind this time, the woman who had been the cause of his first glimpse of what passed for bedside manners in this corner of the universe. No matter how noble her intentions were. No matter how much she loved him.
However, both Chiana and Jool were right. The one who had induced Crichton to retreat from reality was the only one who could, hopefully, bring him back. And Aeryn Sun was that certain somebody.
TBC
After a good long while my inspiration is back and I'm looking forward to finnishing this here baby and continuing the story as I envisioned. So, lean back and let me know what you think.
To Become… One: V (under construction)
It was a very simple plan, really. Simple the way their life was simple. Not at all. In fact, what it most resembled, as Chiana hadn’t doubted in telling her, was what every freak John had met this side of the universe had tried to do or done to him. Mind frell John Crichton.
Aeryn didn’t think she was ready for this. Too bad she did not have an option if she truly wanted the man she loved back amongst the living.
The Interion had been quite explicit, taking into account she had never actually performed or even tried something as fahrbot as her proposed procedure. Why would anyone want to force their consciousness into another being in order to extract information or the very self of the invaded? Oh, right, anyone had not had the pleasure of running into Scorpius.
It all boiled down to this; having spent the last several monens hearing all about their doomed escapades aboard Talyn (she had the Dominar to thank for it, surely), Jool proposed to duplicate the Stykera’s attempt to impersonate a Pilot. Of course, it was a tad more complicated than all that.
Back when they were running from her mother, Stark had connected himself to Talyn in Pilot fashion in order to lure the young hybrid away from a very lethal encounter with the heart of a star. Their stalwart, bodice-clad, self-proclaimed genius insisted the only way for them to recover John’s consciousness was to emulate their departed comrade and use the symbiotic connection of a Pilot with a Leviathan, but with a twist. Figures, every one of their plans had to have a “twist”. Usually the one which sent the whole plan to Hezmana and forced them to fall back on Plan B. Improvise. It’d be funny if it wasn’t tragic.
This time around, the proposed twist required someone other than the afflicted to connect themselves as well, in order to act as the conduit through which John Crichton, human, could anchor himself to reality and climb back out of what ever self imposed tabula rasa he now dwelled. Of course, Aeryn was the only option. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
The whole thing was quite ironic, really.
All of John’s problems (if you ignored the fact the man was stranded who knew how many solar light-years away from his solar system who knew in what direction) had started the moment the human decided to follow his then-unfathomable code of honour (more likely his undeclared love for the raven haired ex-Peacekeeper) and infiltrated a secret Gammak Base coming face to face with the insane, misbegotten half-breed that was Scorpius. That little adventure to save the life of someone who at the time considered him inferior and defective, had earned him a series of sessions at mercy of Leather Face’s pride and joy, the Aurora Chair. Why waist bodily moisture and fuel on conventional torture when you could peel away a person’s memories and inflict an equal or worse amount of pain at the same time? And all at the turn of dial. Your krindars at work, folks.
Scorpius, the bane of their existence, had introduced her gorgeous human to the wonders of invasive explorations of the mind. Because of her. How fitting that it would be she who invaded John’s mind this time, the woman who had been the cause of his first glimpse of what passed for bedside manners in this corner of the universe. No matter how noble her intentions were. No matter how much she loved him.
However, both Chiana and Jool were right. The one who had induced Crichton to retreat from reality was the only one who could, hopefully, bring him back. And Aeryn Sun was that certain somebody.
TBC
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
TV's future is in space...
Six years ago, our collective minds were blown away by the sheer audacity brought to the small screen by a bunch of actors and their crew Down Under; Farscape burst into the scifi scene and TV would never be same. Apart from those unable to disentangle from StarGate's mind numbing effects.
Four years down the road, the powers that be decided that they could not in good conscience provide the public with shows which required their audience to actually think, so... Regardless of how many bras were left on their desks, they axed the little show that could and Moya prepared to sail amongst the solar winds no more.
Hah!! It seems a sufficiently large percentage of TV viewers quite enjoy having their minds challenged on a weekly basis (or even oftener, judging by the absurd amount of blogs, fansites and fanfiction webs about Farscape which sprouted almost overnight and which are still going strong), so Henson & Co. gave us "The PeaceKeeper Wars".
Suddenly, and about the same time as FS:PKWars came out, a long forgotten show got an adrenaline shot straight to the heart, a la Pulp Fiction. Battlestar Galactica got squeezed through a wormhole (I made a funny, hah) and out the other end of the blue revolving vortex came Battlestar Galactica 2003, an in-your-face, kick ass, intelligent, refreshing and challenging scifi show.
What does all of this have to do with Crichton and his merry band, you ask. Well, strictly speaking, nothing really. Save for the fact that BSG2004 has picked up the gavel FS was forced to drop mid race, and is doing it with style. Also, those of you assiduous of the Kansas board and inclined to read through my perusings may have noticed my opus "To Become... One" has not gone anywhere in a hurry. I don't intend for this to be its perpetual state of being, but it is very difficult for me to continue the story.
In the meantime, I have hope. Hope that the road started by Farscape and now continued by the Galactica crew will one day become the leading trend and inspire others to produce other shows as worthy as these two.
Six years ago, our collective minds were blown away by the sheer audacity brought to the small screen by a bunch of actors and their crew Down Under; Farscape burst into the scifi scene and TV would never be same. Apart from those unable to disentangle from StarGate's mind numbing effects.
Four years down the road, the powers that be decided that they could not in good conscience provide the public with shows which required their audience to actually think, so... Regardless of how many bras were left on their desks, they axed the little show that could and Moya prepared to sail amongst the solar winds no more.
Hah!! It seems a sufficiently large percentage of TV viewers quite enjoy having their minds challenged on a weekly basis (or even oftener, judging by the absurd amount of blogs, fansites and fanfiction webs about Farscape which sprouted almost overnight and which are still going strong), so Henson & Co. gave us "The PeaceKeeper Wars".
Suddenly, and about the same time as FS:PKWars came out, a long forgotten show got an adrenaline shot straight to the heart, a la Pulp Fiction. Battlestar Galactica got squeezed through a wormhole (I made a funny, hah) and out the other end of the blue revolving vortex came Battlestar Galactica 2003, an in-your-face, kick ass, intelligent, refreshing and challenging scifi show.
What does all of this have to do with Crichton and his merry band, you ask. Well, strictly speaking, nothing really. Save for the fact that BSG2004 has picked up the gavel FS was forced to drop mid race, and is doing it with style. Also, those of you assiduous of the Kansas board and inclined to read through my perusings may have noticed my opus "To Become... One" has not gone anywhere in a hurry. I don't intend for this to be its perpetual state of being, but it is very difficult for me to continue the story.
In the meantime, I have hope. Hope that the road started by Farscape and now continued by the Galactica crew will one day become the leading trend and inspire others to produce other shows as worthy as these two.
Friday, May 21, 2004
Hello again my fellow scapers...
What a wonderful world it is that has Farscape in it. ;)
While we eagerly await news, spoilers and every possible tidbit about the mini, I have to let all of you who might still be strolling by my blog know what I have been up and why isn´t TBO going anywhere really fast.
Real life is a bitch. Lack of inspiration sucks. And I so want to make my tale the best I can, every idea I get seems not good enough to me.
I read James Clavell´s Shogun last week. It made me draw some paralellisms between it and Farscape. How Blackthorne, for those of you familliar with Clavell´s work, is stranded in feudal Japan, a society, culture and language so alien to him it is as if he were in another world but perseveres because of his knowledge and character, thus surmounting the odds and blooming, maybe not willingly but blooming into a new person because of it.
What a wonderful world it is that has Farscape in it. ;)
While we eagerly await news, spoilers and every possible tidbit about the mini, I have to let all of you who might still be strolling by my blog know what I have been up and why isn´t TBO going anywhere really fast.
Real life is a bitch. Lack of inspiration sucks. And I so want to make my tale the best I can, every idea I get seems not good enough to me.
I read James Clavell´s Shogun last week. It made me draw some paralellisms between it and Farscape. How Blackthorne, for those of you familliar with Clavell´s work, is stranded in feudal Japan, a society, culture and language so alien to him it is as if he were in another world but perseveres because of his knowledge and character, thus surmounting the odds and blooming, maybe not willingly but blooming into a new person because of it.
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
And here is the next installment of my little ode to the bad boy in Crichton.
The characters ain't mine and I will not make any money out of them no matter how much I'd like to. But you all knew that.
And remember, feedback. I need feedback to know if I'm doing it right.
Not John Crichton II
Pain.
Lot's of pain. Really strong pain. /I guess you didn't manage to kill yourself after all, Kemo Sabe./ 'Cause sure as Hell being dead could NOT be this painful. Then again, he'd never been dead before, if you didn't count that little misunderstanding with D'Argo a couple of monens back, that was the other him. He got to do everything before him, didn't he? He got the girl before him. He went and got to be a gosh-darned honest-to-God self sacrificing hero before him. Hezmana, he even got to go out fightin' and die before him!! He should ask Aeryn about that, she'd been dead before. She should know if it hurt.
/That settles it. If I I'm able to lie here and feel pity on myself whilst in scruciating pain and am able to consider asking Aeryn to recall the time I killed her... Yeah, I'd pretty much say Mama Crichton's baby boy is alive and kickin'./ With that humbling thought, John Crichton, human, astronaut and poster boy for hopeless causes and self-kicking romantics across this galaxy and the next, opened his eyes.
Or tried to. Who knew the simple action of opening one's eyes could hurt so much and on so many new and interesting levels? "God, John," A throaty wisper escaped his lips. "What were you thinking?"
***
"Yes," The cool, sensuous voice of his dreams retorted. "what were you thinking?"
At that Crichton froze. Well, as much as he could in his current condition. "Uh... Aeryn?" /Famous last words, boyo./
***
"What were you thinking, John? Were you thinking at all?" /Uh, babe, where do you come off caring all of a sudden?/ "Did it ever occur to you what your actions would do to us?" /Oh, no. You better not be going where I think you're going./ "To me?" And with the sound of those two words reverberating through his being, John Crichton ignored his aching body and literally sprung from the medcot he'd been laid on.
Once on his feet, eyes blazing and voice hoarse from the pain he was enduring, he laid into the former peacekeeper both barrels blasting away.
"Where do you come off talking to me about your feelings and your pain? It's not always about you, babe. This time it truly isn't about you. It's about how I feel. It's about how you make me feel." At that, Aeryn's angry features softened somewhat, giving a glimpse of her surprise at John's behaviour. But the astronaut was too far gone by now.
"You sanctimonious little shit!! As if only you had ever suffered a loss. As if only you knew how it is to deal with unbearable amounts of pain. Or guilt. Or pent up passion or whatever emotion is currently overwhelming you! Welcome to my frellin' life, sweetheart! You just discovered what feelings were and their effects. But the rest of us have been dealing with them all of our lives." Somewhat detachedly, John was aware he was on a roll and that Aeryn probably didn't deserve all of which he was laying at her doorstep. But the dam had broken for him and she was the catalyst as much as the main reason of all of his emotional and most of his physical grief. So he plowed on.
"Have you thought of asking D'Argo how he deals with the betrayal by his lover and his own son? Or how about the fact Chiana cannot EVER see her brother again? Did you ever ask Rygel how he deals with the nightmares of his tortures each and every night? Do you know how I feel every time I look at you and have to remember I allowed Scorpius to kill you? Do you know how it feels to be the only one of my kind in this sick, twisted part of space? To know I may never see my loved ones again? Do you?" Each and every sentence seemed to hit Aeryn with the force of a physical blow. Her winces more pronounced as John increased the rythm and volume of his speech.
"Did you ever consider what it might feel like being on the sights of every single psycho bastard and having to endure what they put me through on a regular basis? Can you even imagine what it felt like for me to be left behind by you? Of course not. How could you. After all, you're the expert on maximum pain and suffering. Aren't you?" Barely able to contain his rage, John turned away from the now pale and trembling Aeryn and activated his comms. "Hey D! Come and help get to my quarters, will ya? I need a change of scenery." Not looking back, John edged out of the laboratory trying to put as much distance between the woman he loved and himself.
***
TBC
The characters ain't mine and I will not make any money out of them no matter how much I'd like to. But you all knew that.
And remember, feedback. I need feedback to know if I'm doing it right.
Not John Crichton II
Pain.
Lot's of pain. Really strong pain. /I guess you didn't manage to kill yourself after all, Kemo Sabe./ 'Cause sure as Hell being dead could NOT be this painful. Then again, he'd never been dead before, if you didn't count that little misunderstanding with D'Argo a couple of monens back, that was the other him. He got to do everything before him, didn't he? He got the girl before him. He went and got to be a gosh-darned honest-to-God self sacrificing hero before him. Hezmana, he even got to go out fightin' and die before him!! He should ask Aeryn about that, she'd been dead before. She should know if it hurt.
/That settles it. If I I'm able to lie here and feel pity on myself whilst in scruciating pain and am able to consider asking Aeryn to recall the time I killed her... Yeah, I'd pretty much say Mama Crichton's baby boy is alive and kickin'./ With that humbling thought, John Crichton, human, astronaut and poster boy for hopeless causes and self-kicking romantics across this galaxy and the next, opened his eyes.
Or tried to. Who knew the simple action of opening one's eyes could hurt so much and on so many new and interesting levels? "God, John," A throaty wisper escaped his lips. "What were you thinking?"
***
"Yes," The cool, sensuous voice of his dreams retorted. "what were you thinking?"
At that Crichton froze. Well, as much as he could in his current condition. "Uh... Aeryn?" /Famous last words, boyo./
***
"What were you thinking, John? Were you thinking at all?" /Uh, babe, where do you come off caring all of a sudden?/ "Did it ever occur to you what your actions would do to us?" /Oh, no. You better not be going where I think you're going./ "To me?" And with the sound of those two words reverberating through his being, John Crichton ignored his aching body and literally sprung from the medcot he'd been laid on.
Once on his feet, eyes blazing and voice hoarse from the pain he was enduring, he laid into the former peacekeeper both barrels blasting away.
"Where do you come off talking to me about your feelings and your pain? It's not always about you, babe. This time it truly isn't about you. It's about how I feel. It's about how you make me feel." At that, Aeryn's angry features softened somewhat, giving a glimpse of her surprise at John's behaviour. But the astronaut was too far gone by now.
"You sanctimonious little shit!! As if only you had ever suffered a loss. As if only you knew how it is to deal with unbearable amounts of pain. Or guilt. Or pent up passion or whatever emotion is currently overwhelming you! Welcome to my frellin' life, sweetheart! You just discovered what feelings were and their effects. But the rest of us have been dealing with them all of our lives." Somewhat detachedly, John was aware he was on a roll and that Aeryn probably didn't deserve all of which he was laying at her doorstep. But the dam had broken for him and she was the catalyst as much as the main reason of all of his emotional and most of his physical grief. So he plowed on.
"Have you thought of asking D'Argo how he deals with the betrayal by his lover and his own son? Or how about the fact Chiana cannot EVER see her brother again? Did you ever ask Rygel how he deals with the nightmares of his tortures each and every night? Do you know how I feel every time I look at you and have to remember I allowed Scorpius to kill you? Do you know how it feels to be the only one of my kind in this sick, twisted part of space? To know I may never see my loved ones again? Do you?" Each and every sentence seemed to hit Aeryn with the force of a physical blow. Her winces more pronounced as John increased the rythm and volume of his speech.
"Did you ever consider what it might feel like being on the sights of every single psycho bastard and having to endure what they put me through on a regular basis? Can you even imagine what it felt like for me to be left behind by you? Of course not. How could you. After all, you're the expert on maximum pain and suffering. Aren't you?" Barely able to contain his rage, John turned away from the now pale and trembling Aeryn and activated his comms. "Hey D! Come and help get to my quarters, will ya? I need a change of scenery." Not looking back, John edged out of the laboratory trying to put as much distance between the woman he loved and himself.
***
TBC
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