Welcome to Air Syne. I assure you, you will want to go wherever the hell she decides to fly you.

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By which I mean, I don't care if you don't give a whit for popslash, Heart of Stone remains one of my favorite fairy tales of all freaking time, and Rake the Gates of Hell is an astonishing work of fantasy fiction. They are so good it makes you green with writerly jealously, and then weep for joy that it exists.

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A link to this was in the comments to Synecdochic's story yesterday. I don't know the etiquette of linking to someone's LJ unasked, but I'll put the link here, since it was linked publically in comments.

And here's the text. Too good not to share.

The Drugs of Fandom

Buffyverse = Marijuana. The good kind, not crappy brick weed. The kind of marijuana Snoop Dogg and Cheech Marin smoke. I mean the real good shit they grow in small batches under special mutating heat lamps. Because you can sort of justify it to your non-fandom friends by talking about the social issues and deep, thinky meta. Yeah, okay, things get confused sometimes and trains of thought are lost, brain cells are burned away, but hell, there was also that fucking amazingly deep and true conversation about female power and pursuance of The Good in a fucked up world where evil crap happens all the time.

Firefly = Ecstasy. It’s just one tiny little pill. And then you are filled with mind-expanding love for every single character and even when they are horribly hurting and dark, you can only long for more of their touch. You want to get nekkid and rub all up on every single bit of it, up to and including every note of it’s music, for the entire rest of your life. When it’s over, your brain chemistry is altered and you plunge into a deep depression on the come down.

Harry Potter = Heroin. Because when you tell people who aren’t into it that you are? They always say some variation on the sentiment: “Oh dude, that’s the hard shit. That’s just the craziest stuff. I mean sometimes it looks like fun in there but, hell, I’d never want to get in that deep. Those people are crazy.”

Smallville = Crack. Just…*waves hand* crackrock. All of it. It’s shiny and makes you feel cheap and it's OMG-such-a-rush in a heart-racing, blood-pumping way but it strings you out and ruins your life and all your friends shun you and say, “I told you that shit was fucked up,” when it starts going downhill and the risk of actually ending up smoking a block of dry ice that makes you go blind and your brain seize is very high. Yet you can’t stop.

SGA = Acid. I…I don’t think there’s a whole lot of explanation necessary for this one. If you’ve ever even peeked at SGA fandom, you know that everyfreakin’body is tripping balls.

Supernatural = Roofies. You let this fandom buy you one drink, just one drink and before you know it, your clothes’ve come off and you’re doing all these vile and depraved things that you always said you’d never do or just plain weren’t into and you can’t bring yourself to have any kind of problem with the situation at all. Then the next day you wake up kinda sore, wondering what the hell you did last night and have only fleeting remembrances of pretty emo boys, glitter and lube.

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I don't think truer words have been written.

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Gee, I just can't relate to the SPN one AT ALL.

Nope, not me.

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Publically. Publicly. Hmm. Dictionary says publicly. Imagine that. Ah yes, the Fandom drugs thing is very acurate, *especially* SPN.

I mean, I quit reading fanfic and walked away from the timesuck cold turkey after Buffy and Angel. I made rare exceptions for Firefly. But I fell, hard and hellbent, you could say, for SPN fic.

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Hee. Mona's the person who got shrift into Angel. Small world.

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Supernatural = Roofies. You let this fandom buy you one drink, just one drink and before you know it, your clothes’ve come off and you’re doing all these vile and depraved things that you always said you’d never do or just plain weren’t into and you can’t bring yourself to have any kind of problem with the situation at all. Then the next day you wake up kinda sore, wondering what the hell you did last night and have only fleeting remembrances of pretty emo boys, glitter and lube.

::stares::

::sighs::

What is WRONG with me??? Why can't SPN do that to me? Why'd it have to go make me all goody-goody?

To paraphrase the LOLrus,

NOOOO THEY BE STEALIN' MY WRONG!

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You let this fandom buy you one drink, just one drink and before you know it, your clothes’ve come off and you’re doing all these vile and depraved things that you always said you’d never do or just plain weren’t into and you can’t bring yourself to have any kind of problem with the situation at all. Then the next day you wake up kinda sore, wondering what the hell you did last night and have only fleeting remembrances of pretty emo boys, glitter and lube.

And so long as there were also condoms? Many of us are just totally okay with this.

I feel dirty.

I love this fandom.

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NOOOO THEY BE STEALIN' MY WRONG!

You wrote Kissenger. You used up all of your wrong already.

Which is sad.

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