wanna guard your dreams and visions

So, I seem to be reading due South fic and panicking about the future. It's all very 2006 around here.

I am desperately tempted to buy the last season of due South as I lost all my original episodes when my first external harddrive crashes (may I take a moment to note that no one ever warns one that this could happen? Oh, no, it's all "back it up on the external harddrive, in case your computer crashes!" but not word one about what you're supposed to do when your external harddrive dies?). I have neither time nor money to get into it right now, and yet it is desperately tempting, because due South is a lovely, happy place for me and right now I miss it. I do love the fic and the fandom, but occasionally, I crave the episodes. I'm particularly wanting "Mountie on the Bounty" right now, or maybe "Odds", or "Say Amen" or "Call of the Wild". I just... so many of the other shows I watch - I'm thinking specifically of Doctor Who and Being Human - are, for all their humour, kind of Tragic and Deep and Meaningful with intentional caps. Whereas due South is nothing in caps, except mayve Awesome, and it moves me and makes me happy and I miss it.

I also have an irrational urge to write Wilde RPS. This is all entirely the fault of Pat Barker and her stupid Regeneration trilogy and it's stupid queer subtext. By which I mean: I am re-reading the books for my "Great War" module; they are possibly actually better than I remember them. The relationship between Rivers and Sassoon, especially, got to me this time, in a way that it didn't the first time I read through it - particularly in the last scene between them, when Rivers is warning Sassoon about the Black Book. Oh my heart! (As an aside, this also makes me go, Oh my heart!: Sassoon’s description of the doctor in 'Sherston’s Progress', lingering as it does on Rivers’s warm smile and endearing habits- he often sat, spectacles pushed up on forehead, with his hands clasped around one knee- suggests that it was more than liking he felt. And privately he was rather franker, telling Marsh, whom he knew would understand, that he ‘loved [Rivers] at first sight.’ Damn it all, Sassoon, I don't want to like you this much.) But the book in general - there are so few aspects of it that don't hit some fiction kink of mine, it's kind of ridiculous. It's one of the few books that manages to make me laugh and think and get ridiculously angry and morose. And I get to write about it. \o/

How, however, does this equal wanting to write Wilde RPS? Mostly, this is Michael Sheen's fault for being in the Guardian so much in the past week. Paired with Robert Ross's presence in Regeneration (hovering in the background like some sort of spectre of persecution), I've had this huge urge to write about Robbie Ross being haunted by Wilde. Why this does not already exist, I do not know, though I must say I am most disappointed by the internet in this instance. It needs writing, because - as we all know - ghosts are really just figments of our own imagination (except perhaps Bob Fraser...) and Robbie would remember him as he was before Reading, even if it hurt; he'd have the laughing, camp Oscar, and it would be inappropriate - the World War 1 raging outside - but at the same time it would be so needed, and it would allow for those things that hadn't been said yet; the apologies that Oscar owed him and he, maybe, owed Oscar.

I have a feeling that at the end of this narrative, Robbie dies. Which brings me right back to why I need to get my filthy hands on some episodes of due South.