Tag Archives: fanfic

Going through the Twilight

(To the tune of “Going through the motions” from the musical Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode)

Every single day, I do the same thing:
Get up in the morning, go to school.
Still I always feel I’m only gaming,
Nothing here is right, nothing here is cool.
I am such an ass when I’m in class
Just hoping I can pass
‘Cause I’m just going through the motions
Living in a dream
No one knows I’m not the jerk I seem.

I was always cold and kind of distant
Now these days I’m holding back
Never growing old, the things I’ve missed and
Now I find I lack.

You really need a smack.

At least I’m wearing black.

You seem pretty skilled, and I’m just thrilled
To hear you haven’t killed
But you’ve been going through the motions
Living out a lie.
How much longer are you going to try?

Maybe one day I’ll be vicious
Now I’ve met someone delicious.

See, I knew you’d get ambitious.

I don’t want to be
Going through the motions
How much can I take?
Bella’s special scent
Has me so discontent…

See, this is what I meant. Eat stake.

Originally posted on Making Light

The stone-fruits of Gondolin

The morning dawned clear and bright, and Gandalf rose early to walk along the terraces and slopes above the loud-flowing Bruinen. The rising sun shone pale and wan through the silver mist, and the webs of the spiders glistened among the trees. On a small bench beside the path he came upon Elrond, who rose to greet him.

“Fine is the morning and fortunate the meeting, O Mithrandir! Long have I sat here contemplating the paths that lie before us, and now find myself in need of sustenance. I have in my cool-rooms a hoard of stone-fruits from Gondolin, which I would gladly share with you.”

“Many years has it been,” replied Gandalf, “since I have tasted the stone-fruits of Gondolin. They grow now but sparsely among the fallen stones of that once fair city.”

Elrond rose and led the way to his cool-rooms, which stood in a shadowed corner of the Last Homely House, sheltered from the sunlight by the high walls of the building around them. There he kept many foods from all over Middle-Earth, cooled by great blocks of ice carried down from the Misty mountains.

The thick stone door of the cool-rooms stood ajar. Elrond and Gandalf entered to find Pippin seated on a wooden chest, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. Beside him lay a small pile of fruit-stones, the last traces of golden flesh still clinging to them.

“Hullo, Gandalf! Hullo, Elrond! I just popped in here for a little something to eat. It’s a long time yet to breakfast, and waiting is hungry work, as my gaffer always says.”

Elrond stood still within the doorway, but Gandalf strode forward. “Gluttonous fool of a Took! You have eaten the stone-fruits of Gondolin, which we had preserved in the cool-room for our breakfast!”

“Forgive me,” cried the hobbit, cringing before the wizard’s wrath. “They were so sweet and so cold that I could hardly resist them!”

Originally posted on Making Light

Scenes from Dr Horrible: Friendship is Magic

Dr Horsible:
A stallion must run
Where a stallion must run
Don’t join the race
If you can’t be number one.

All that matters
Taking matters firmly by the bit
Soon I’ll control everything
And to your reins submit

Captain Hammer:
Slow down, everyone,
Drop out of the race
Let the winner by
I will set the pace.

Yes, Captain Hammer’s here
Mane flowing as I trot
The race needs a star, and I’m so hot.

A stallion must run where a stallion must run
It seems the real race has only just begun
The only way to lose is if we don’t finish tied
So I’ll slow up and we’ll go side by side.

– o0o –

It may not make you bigger
Letting humans ride
But you know who does that? Trigger.
He carried Roy with pride.

So you wonder what your part is
Because you’re saddled and repressed
But freedom’s where your heart is
So you freedom’s in your chest.

Everyone’s a stallion in their own way
Everyone can rear and neigh and paw.
Just not as high as me
But ponies, you can still look on with awe

Everyone’s a stallion in their own way
In own My Little Pony way.

Originally posted on Making Light

Shakespearean Firefly

In the spirit of this, a few lines that may be familiar.

Capt: A dozen years have pass’d since this took place,
And all that time hath Parliament kept hid
The secret of this world, till River here
Unearth’d it from their minds.  They feared she knew.
And right they were to dread, since many more
Among the spinning worlds would know it too.
And someone has to speak for those now dead.
For divers reasons did you join my crew
But all have come together to this place.
I’ve in the past demanded much of you.
Today I ask yet more; perhaps for all.
For this I know, as I know anything:
That they will try again.  Another world
Will be the lab for this experiment.
Or maybe they will sweep this landscape clean
And in a year or ten attempt again.
They’ll swing back like the needle to the north
To the belief that they can better men.
And I hold not to that.  Here from this grave
I will not run. I aim to misbehave.

– o0o –

There’s more to flight than buttons, albatross,
More to the pilot’s role than charts and maps.
You know the foremost rule of flying?  Aye,
I know you do, since you know what I’ll say
Before I part my lips.
Riv:                         I do, but yet
I like to hear you say it nonetheless.
Capt:  ‘Tis love.  Though you know all the math the ‘verse
Contains, if in the sky you take a ship unloved
She’ll shake you off as sure as worlds turn.
Love keeps her in the air when she should fall
And tells you that she hurts before she keens.
It makes her home.
Riv:                         The storm is getting worse.
Capt: We will endure a while, till it disperse.

Nil sub sole novum

Martin sent me a rather silly YouTube link, mostly about Horatio Caine’s one-line quips at the end of the prologues of CSI: Miami. The sameness of his delivery, episode after episode, reminded me irresistibly of Aristophanes’ The Frogs. Indeed, I could not resist setting it all out. How would Aristophanes have tackled the rivalry among the three CSI shows?1

Dionysus, patron of drama, descends into the underworld to bring one of the great dramatists back to earth with him, to inspire the people of Athens to their former greatness. In the land of the dead, Aeschylus and Euripides are contending for the seat of honour, at Hades’ left hand, awarded to the greatest tragedian; it was Aeschylus, but Euripides is trying to take it over. In the background, Sophocles is staying out of the battle.

Like Dionysus, Dr Quincy, ME goes into the TV studios to bring one of the current crop of detectives with him, to solve the crimes of the modern era. There, Gil Grissom and Horatio Caine are arguing over who should get the largest dressing room, awarded to the best CSI; it was Gil’s, but Caine is trying to take it over. In the backdrop, Mac is staying out of the battle.

The two playwrights’ works are compared to one another in a variety of ways. After opening prayers, each dramatist describes the other’s weaknesses and his own strengths. It becomes clear that Dionysus prefers Aeschylus, the more traditional and methodical playwright, over the more modern Eurypides.

The two detectives’ shows are also compared to one another. After a brief introduction covering their education and work experience, each CSI describes the other’s weaknesses and his own strengths2. It becomes clear that Quincy prefers Grissom, the scientist, over the flashier Caine.

Then the true contest begins. A nit-picking analysis of each dramatist’s best prologue, for logic and for style. The best3 part is when Aeschylus proves that, metrically and structurally, one can insert “lost his bottle of oil” into the line-ends of his opponent’s prologues.

Again, the key comparison is a nit-picking analysis of each detective’s investigative techniques, for protocol and for style. The best part is when Gil proves that, dramatically and stylistically, one can put one’s sunglasses on and sidle like a crab at any point in his opponent’s exchanges with other characters2, again.

The final contest takes place over a set of scales, as each dramatist recites a single line of one of his plays. The weightiest line wins. In each case, Aeschylus’ works outweigh Euripides’.

Like Dionysus, Quincy uses scales for a quantitiative analysis. Each CSI recounts one of his one-line end of prologue quips. The heaviest line wins. This bit, I’ll do.4

Come here, then, if I have to do this —
treating detectives just like cheese for sale.
Such clever men as these use clever tools:
Forensic science as is taught in schools
Can only show a fraction of the art.
It’s innovation that’s the greater part
And so when other testing stalls and fails
We turn to systematic means like scales.
Come on. Stand beside the balance scales.
GRISSOM & CAINE [together]:
All right.
Now, each of you grab hold and don’t let go
until I yell at you like Roger Daltrey.
GRISSOM & CAINE [each one holding a scale pan]:
We’re holding on.
Speak your line into the scale.

CAINE [reciting]:
I am going…to get to the truth.
GRISSOM [reciting]:
“Yet who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him.”5
Yaaaaar! Let go. [inspects scales] The pan on Grissom’s side
has gone much further down.
And why is that?
Why? Because he put blood into it.
He wet his words the way wool-sellers do —
whereas you put in a word with wings.
All right, let him speak again and match me.
Grab hold again.
We’re ready.
So speak down.
CAINE [reciting]:
You don’t spend $1,000 on clothes…you’re never going to wear.
GRISSOM [reciting]:
Man versus Gravity. Man lost.
Let go. Let go. This one’s going down again.
He put gravity in — the heaviest of forces.
But I put in money…and my line
was…better phrased.
Yeah, but money’s light.
It’s got no staying power at all. Say something else,
a heavy line, immense and ponderous,
to make you sink.
A really heavy line…
where can I find such a thing among my cases?
I’ll tell you. “We’ve got to move quickly.
The tide is rising, and we have a sinking crime scene.”
You’d better speak —
it’s the last time the two of you get weighed.
CAINE [reciting]:
The verdict is in, Frank, but the jury…is out.
GRISSOM [reciting]:
By law you’ve got to disclose everything. Three bedrooms, two baths, and a skeleton.
He got you again.

How so?
He put in a whole house and a stiff.
A hundred weightlifters couldn’t shift that load.

This last contest gives Dionysus the excuse he needs to bring back the playwright he really prefers, Aeschylus. As a final, stinging rebuke of Euripides’ preference of style over substance, he negotiates for Sophocles to have the seat of honour by Hades.

Like Dionysus, Quincy prefers Grissom6, and declares him the winner. As a final, stinging rebuke of Horatio Caine’s flashy style, he negotiates for Mac to have the coveted trailer.

  1. Paragraphs in italics are a summary of The Frogs. Following paragraphs are, um, translations.
  2. Of course I was tempted. But I do have a life.
  3. And most famous. Justly.
  4. All of Quincy’s lines are minimally adapted from Dionysus’. The Chorus song has been rewritten, but the essence is retained. And all of Caine and Grissom’s lines are from their shows, of course.
  5. Macbeth, Act V, Scene 1
  6. As, clearly, do I


Three hundred tasty Spartan men in line:
A hopeless stand against the Persian might.
And in among them, ready too to fight,
Is Mary Sue, her armour polished to a shine.
Like Éowyn, with Aragorns to spare
(And yes, they’re straight, or straight enough to suit,
With just that taste of half-forbidden fruit!)
They’re doomed to die, but too in love to care.
The hour comes, the brotherhood contracts
Around the precious flower at its heart.
She will not leave; she wants to play her part!
She takes the lead in their heroic acts.
(But in this version, Sparta’s heroes won
And Persia lost to the three hundred one.)

Originally posted on Making Light, this is about what the film 300 would have been like with a classic fanfic self-insertion character caught up in the middle of it.