ontology: (Default)
I've been meaning to do this meme for some time (nicked from [personal profile] last_archangel), but I wanted to fill the empty slots in my icons first. I am currently a bit stuck in the Novel -- started the fourth chapter and realised I have no idea what to do with it -- so perhaps a little fictionplay will reconnect the wires in my head? I hope so. 

1. Pick one of my icons.
2. I will write you at least one sentence of something vaguely resembling fiction based on said icon (and keywords and comments).
 
P.S. I am faintly disturbed -- or is it amused? -- by the fact that all of my fictional relationships seem to have their roots in Remus/Tonks. I mean, first off, there's Ian Braddock, reclusive teacher, in love with cheerful, clumsy, neon-haired Tuesday Aiken; and then we have Mr Caruthers, who probably would argue that he is too old, too poor, and too dangerous for Evy (I almost want to make him say at at some point, for the in-joke hilarity of it all), plus there's this whole awkward mess in the sequel (AAAARGH) in which there is a War, and he has to go do dangerous undercover stuff probably with vampires, which makes him distance himself from Evy -- For Her Own Good!, and nearly has a nervous breakdown, and someone probably has to operate on him to remove his nobility gland or something. (Of course by this time they are married, so it's more like a cross between Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows, except they don't die at the end. Or look like they died but totally didn't I mean look JKR wrote that they looked as though they were sleeping she definitely did not use the word "dead" I MEAN COME ON.)

That's not even counting that I have two-thirds of an idea for a story (mostly images and snatches) about John and Emily Lewis and how they manage their marriage and his lycanthropy...
ontology: (Default)
Remember when you were, I don't know, seven, eight, nine, maybe older, maybe younger, and you used to spend hours daydreaming about the worlds you kept discovering? You used to go into your parents' wardrobe, maybe, and feel the back hoping it would suddenly turn out to be trees and snow, or you wondered about getting one of Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's cures for your brother's habit of interrupting, or--a little later--you had this silly thing in your head where you pretended that the Fellowship of the Ring occasionally hung out at your house and went places with you (because Aragorn liked to read the Boston Globe and when you went to the New Bedford Summerfest Pippin loved the Tilt-a-Whirl but Sam threw up and Legolas and Boromir traded looks of utter disgust and kids ran up to Gandalf because they thought he was Santa.)

Yeah, well, I just wanted to let you lot know that I have absolutely and completely grown out of that phase and would never, ever, ever daydream about anything fandom related, ever.


In other news, I leapt clumsily onto yet another bandwagon and joined Facebook, pretending happily that my middle name is my last name and also that I was born in 1913 (thanks, Facebook's weird network thingummy that is prejudiced against people who never attended an official school).

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