Arthur says: your grip on reality is obviously vise-like
Hey, about 3-4 people commenting on the last story really freaked me out by saying that they ‘didn’t know anything about Fast & Furious but….’ And I kinda thought that coming to this journal without knowing anything about Fast & Furious was like going to the Jewish Quarter in Jerusalem and ordering cheese on your chili dog: sure you could do it, but it’s not likely to be easy.
See, because I am delusional think of myself as a relatively fannishly monogamous person, I didn’t think of that last story as a Sam/Dean story in which Brian happened to play a part, I thought of it as a Dom/Brian story that Sam, Dean and Bobby were just unfortunate enough to witness. This, even though Dom’s name is never mentioned and he is never referred to, even obliquely.
OK, you know me: I love a metaphor. I love me a simile. So, in this metaphor: I am married to Fast & Furious fandom. Yup. It’s my soulmate. Everything it says, I want to hear, everything it does, I want to know about. We’ll grow old together. Whenever old flames (Due South, Hornblower) come around, Fast & Furious just smiles indulgently because it is completely not threatened.
Ahem. Then, of course, there is Supernatural. The fandom that is sort of mine whether I want it to be or not. Sometimes our relationship is good, sometimes troubled. It’s just there, it’s like the furniture. I watch every week. I oooh and aaah at the vids. Laugh at the macros. I read what’s recced to me (but nothing else). And…I love it. Like a brother even. ;)
And then…there are occasionally fandoms that make Fast & Furious really upset. I’m not proud of this. But…the thing with the Star Trek Reboot got kind of fraught. Fast & Furious is all, ‘You don’t really play racquetball at all, do you? And those weekends away weren’t corporate retreats, were they? You are such a hateful bitch! I wish I was dead!’ And runs off sobbing.
And I’m all, ‘uh, he’ll be fine. We are on for later, right?’
And Kirk says, ‘Absolutely!’ and Spock just raises one eyebrow.
And then there are the fandoms that I actively kind of resent and want to punch right in their smug, too-clever faces…but that doesn’t keep me from wanting to drag them into a public toilet and kiss them until their mouths are all bruised and punish them with really angry sex. Yeah, Inception, I’m talking to you.
And Arthur replies dryly, ‘your grip on reality is obviously vise-like.’
But Eames defends me, ‘Shut up, darling, she is my kind of girl.’
See, because I am delusional think of myself as a relatively fannishly monogamous person, I didn’t think of that last story as a Sam/Dean story in which Brian happened to play a part, I thought of it as a Dom/Brian story that Sam, Dean and Bobby were just unfortunate enough to witness. This, even though Dom’s name is never mentioned and he is never referred to, even obliquely.
OK, you know me: I love a metaphor. I love me a simile. So, in this metaphor: I am married to Fast & Furious fandom. Yup. It’s my soulmate. Everything it says, I want to hear, everything it does, I want to know about. We’ll grow old together. Whenever old flames (Due South, Hornblower) come around, Fast & Furious just smiles indulgently because it is completely not threatened.
Ahem. Then, of course, there is Supernatural. The fandom that is sort of mine whether I want it to be or not. Sometimes our relationship is good, sometimes troubled. It’s just there, it’s like the furniture. I watch every week. I oooh and aaah at the vids. Laugh at the macros. I read what’s recced to me (but nothing else). And…I love it. Like a brother even. ;)
And then…there are occasionally fandoms that make Fast & Furious really upset. I’m not proud of this. But…the thing with the Star Trek Reboot got kind of fraught. Fast & Furious is all, ‘You don’t really play racquetball at all, do you? And those weekends away weren’t corporate retreats, were they? You are such a hateful bitch! I wish I was dead!’ And runs off sobbing.
And I’m all, ‘uh, he’ll be fine. We are on for later, right?’
And Kirk says, ‘Absolutely!’ and Spock just raises one eyebrow.
And then there are the fandoms that I actively kind of resent and want to punch right in their smug, too-clever faces…but that doesn’t keep me from wanting to drag them into a public toilet and kiss them until their mouths are all bruised and punish them with really angry sex. Yeah, Inception, I’m talking to you.
And Arthur replies dryly, ‘your grip on reality is obviously vise-like.’
But Eames defends me, ‘Shut up, darling, she is my kind of girl.’