ontology | Entries tagged with fanfiction

I shall likely regret this later, but I am feeling regretful that I have not written anything at all for Valentine's Day, although thus far I have never managed to write anything in time for a holiday, except for that one magical year I somehow managed to write a fic for Remus' birthday. (And, um, my poor rl friends have not yet got their Christmas presents, and to make that even messier the half-finished documents are trapped on Computer Which Is Currently Ravaged By Virus, which, yeah, I haven't actually mentioned, but it is, and this is the spare, and we are attempting to get it taken care of.) So I am issuing a writing challenge. Have at it. Give me a fandom and a prompt (more than one is permitted, but I might not do both), and I shall write you a ficbit. Try to keep your prompts fairly simple (I mean, if you actually want to see the result, ever) -- which mostly means "not epic or requiring a complicated plot"; i.e. no, I really can't write the story of how the Doctor helped the Faithful escape from Númenor, although I could write a short segment about the Doctor being in Númenor during the fall. You lot know my fandoms fairly well (and, as usual, I might be persuaded to eke out a smattering of original fic, but only if you ask very nicely). And if I don't get to your particular prompt, don't take it personally, as I've a short-term memory resembling not so much a sieve as a veritable hole.

So.

♥ restless
♫ "new soul", yael naim

I really am going to do that Deathly Hallows response post, because there is actually a lot to talk about besides How It Broke My Heart And Why I Am Not Resigned, but I keep worrying I'm going to forget something ("I've only read the book twice!), and then the less silly bit of myself says very sternly, "Banui, it's a response, not a ruddy thesis paper" and so the two sides of me sort of bicker amicably for a while which makes it really difficult to actually, you know, concentrate on anything useful.

Anyway, 'tis the season for Great Thinky Meta Posts, now that the early frenzy is mostly over, and here is my first contribution, because I have been mulling this over for some time, and it's got a lot to do with my fic-verse, and I think if I start writing out my thoughts maybe some of it will come out clearly enough that I can start to write about it. I keep trying to write fic about Deathly Hallows, but I run up against this great block that says, "are you sure that this is how you want to portray this?" Like, guys, I haven't even really explored how and when Remus and Tonks actually fell in love, other than that it was sometime during OotP, and I'd like there to be something interesting involved, some sort of -- at least mild -- adventure, something other than mucking about in Grimmauld Place and keeping Sirius from going mad.

( absurdly long rambling thing about possible fic arcs, remus' outburst in deathly hallows, and my current fanmix project )

...I have apparently lost the ability to post about anything not related to Harry Potter now. This is a sign of dire things I am sure.

♥ thoughtful
♫ "empty", ray lamontagne

I've written my first entry for

rt_challenge and feel the need to exult a bit. Shush, it's my first ficathon. And somehow what I was writing turned out to be a poem, which was utterly unexpected and totally influenced by all of the rain-themed music I was listening to while writing. Well. There isn't enough fandom poetry anyway.

Also, if we all keep our fingers crossed, I may have a fanmix EP out for you lot tomorrow. May. Er. I'm hoping that mentioning this has not just jinxed the poor project beyond all hope. I did make the covers and everything, so. Um. Well. Also because my mind works in mysterious ways, I have just made a sort of gloomy-but-also-hopeful mix at what may be the absolute wrong time. Er. Yes. In my defense, they don't die in my universe.

Which brings me to That Fic I Keep Talking About And Never Producing, which, um. Yes. It is almost finished. Really. It has also been in the same state of almost-finished-ness for three days, but that is beside the point. A certain Eliot-loving bloke is being far too angsty for everyone's good and I am trying to work it out into a proper hopeful ending. And I wrote myself to the end of a paragraph and suddenly realised, um, oh no, I have no idea what happens next. Blast!

My oh my, I've made an entirely fandomy post! This hasn't happened in months, if you don't count the rather incoherent posts written immediately after viewing episodes of Doctor Who. Or the equally incoherent post-Lost ones squeaking "what?"

♥ hungry
♫ "empty", ray lamontagne

i. Am feeling quite good about things, all things considered -- at least I am now; I have been fluctuating. An hour ago I was feeling a bit grim for no particular reason. I have been remembering to take my supplements most days, which is probably helping a bit. (Possibly more than a bit.) And I'm finally getting a bid giddy with birthday anticipation, what with waking up in the morning and thinking "THREE MORE DAYS OMG". (Actually my first thought upon waking this morning was "SIRIUS/SARAH-JANE OTP!", but that's another story altogether.)

( birthday plans have been made, too... )

iii. Speaking of birthdays, I wrote birthday-fic for

safebox, which I am still fairly in awe of. Not because I think it's a work of staggering genius (though I am very fond of it), but because of the dry spell which has been discussed here at some great length. I sort of forced it out of me, and it actually turned out good. I still keep rushing back to look at it and make sure it's still existing. You can read it here (An Anatomy of the Impossible) -- it's all about Martha Jones, hurrah!

♫ "minor piano keys", iron & wine

Nicked from

last_archangel: name a character and I'll tell you one to three things about them from my own personal pseudo-canon. I will extend this to include characters that are wholly mine, including original fanfiction characters -- you know, all two of them -- and original fiction characters, and every character I have ever considered writing about, and possibly someone I haven't actually written about at all. Questions about T.S. Eliot and/or Oscar Wilde will be promptly ignored.

(You can do more than one, too, if you wish. I like this sort of meme.)

♥ calm
♫ 'winter' - tori amos

Nicking a meme from fernwithy because it might come in useful, my muse being belligerent lately: Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you one sentence from that story.

(And, you know, I might take more than one apiece, if I'm feeling particularly generous, or you bring me ~~the Doctor and~~ a kitten.)

♥ blank
♫ 'heaven's gonna burn your eyes' - thievery corporation

Er, wow, Remus/Eowyn? Now there's a crack-ship if ever there was one. I'm not quite sure whether I ought to laugh or cry. So I will just use a lot of italics instead.

The terrifying part is that I can almost see it.

♥ so very afraid
♫ 'mary' - sarah slean

HELP ME I JUST READ TRAUMATISING EMILY OF NEW MOON FIC. SOMEONE GIVE ME A COOKIE AND TELL ME THAT THERE IS STILL GOOD IN HUMANITY.

*whimpers*

♥ terrified
♫ 'trouble is' - jars of clay

I. So,

lady_moriel and I were on the phone until twelve-thirty last night, which was basically The Best Thing Ever, except I woke my mum up because I was shut up in my closet for no good reason. (It's kind of cosy in there. Besides, Remus lives there. With his random piles of Time and various newspapers and books he keeps nicking off my shelves, and our vintage Life magazines from the seventies and eighties, and a lot of sandwiches.) Also, we made up the Best ScarletWoman!Ginny Fic Ever, which involves Antarctica and Random Hot Scientists and transfigured penguins and Dead Unimportant People and Molly's Amazing Clock of Eerie Accuracy. (CLOCK: [hand points to SHAGGING RANDOM STRANGER]. MOLLY: Must--go--to--Antarctica!) Also, Sirius uses netspeak specifically to irritate Remus (until he gets bored with typing funnily and finds something else), and we both read the Pony Pals when we were young and were probably vaguely ashamed of it even then. Heeee. AND! We are going to picket for Werewolf Rights!!(P.S.: Il Divo was on instead of Monty Python. AAAACK. *woe* I NEED MY FIX NOW.)

II. I am such a girl. Even without meaning to be, which is, I think, almost worse. Case in point: Saturday, my boots, blouse, and nail varnish all matched. (The varnish, which I found in my closet, is part of my semi-annual attempt to Not Bite Nails. Instead, I peel the stuff off with my teeth.) ERU SAVE ME. (I got really killer red boots for four bucks on Friday, though. The heels sink into the ground when I walk, which feels springy and weird and sort of awesome in a bizarre kind of way. And I got a purple floor-length skirt and something that looks kind of like an English riding jacket.)

III. I'm writing Eagle of the Ninth fanfiction. This is kind of scaring me (not least because I have the utmost reverence for Rosemary Sutcliffe). Is anyone else cool enough to even know what I'm talking about? :D Also, I had to do Wikipedia research for a passing mention in a vignette, wherein I discovered I got something wrong. Ack, historical fanfiction.

IV. L.M. Montgomery is pretty much the literary equivalent of mint and chocolate right now. *fangirls* Yes, I'm on a kick. Even though the first and third Emily books vanished mysteriously from the library two years ago. *cries* ~~Also, I think I might be a Dean Priest fangirl. This is REALLY TERRIFYING.~~

V. Because I was talking to

lady_moriel basically all night and watched a movie with the family last night, my internet usage has been disgustingly patchy. Am still working on comments & things.

VI. DO NOT SCOLD ME ABOUT THE TIME.

VII: It's Christmastime! I am so absolutely enchanted by this; I must dedicate an entry to it soon.

VIII: I STILL HAVE A PRIDE & PREJUDICE MOODTHEME. *squee*

VIIII: Shut up, I am going to bed. Also, I have a sinking feeling that I am getting the Roman numerals wrong.

♥ completely mental
♫ 'look up' - stars

Dear Robin McKinley,

It isn't even remotely fair for you to create such vivid, fascinating, and often funny universes, leave loose ends lying about at the ends of stories, build up shadows of mythologies which you never delve deeply enough into, generally Not Write Sequels--and then forbid fanfiction. It just isn't.

Sincerely,

A Disgruntled Reader

And not only do I want to write fanfiction, after re-reading Spindle's End and Sunshine and being generally immersed in various McKinleyverses, but I want to read it. She has so many interesting little bits here and there that could be developed further, and I wouldn't be able to think of or pick up on them all. At the moment I want to read and write fic so badly that I am nearly ready to shout very loudly or throw books at the wall (my library copies are hardcover; it would be deeply satisfiying).

ARGH.

♥ all right
♫ "Better", Regina Spektor

Item I: FIIIIIIC. Er. Yes. I'm not usually so self-promotional, except that I've been trying to write something ever since I finished The Wise and the Lovely and couldn't manage to finish anything. (Sirius, it seems, has a grudge against me. Either that, or he's severely ADD, and runs off to do something else when I'm trying to write about him. Er. Actually, that's not completely unlikely, especially seeing as the Siriusfic I am trying to write keeps flipping from hyphen-deluged angst to weird humour.) Anyway, it is very bizarre Elioty fic, but that is okay: I wrote something, for goodness sake.

(Um. And yes, it was three in the morning when Dad chased me off the computer the night before last when I was almost finished with it. But that was the fic's fault, I swear. And I paid for it in the morning: oh, did I ever.)

Item II: At long last, we have finally got high-speed again, and cable television. This means that I have been playing music constantly since this afternoon, (including WUMB, which has got me massively nostalgic), and that I shall watch Monty Python's Flying Cirus and possibly Austin City Limits tomorrow. I would do happy dances of glee, except that my head feels like corn syrup and thinking hurts too much, much less dancing.

Happy birthday to Frodo and Bilbo! ...I made cookies.

Kate Rusby is utterly, fantastically brilliant. I have rarely heard vocals that have made me more prone to fits of weeping. Must get album from library...!

♥ headachey
♫ "Sir Eglamore", Kate Rusby

ressie_noldo is fifteen today; and many happy returns and various other wishes and the like go out to her. (And e-chocolate cake. My real chocolate cake is very good; I hope you like the slightly glowy, inedible variety. ^-^ Otherwise, I also make a mean spice cake with caramel frosting.)

And my Sirius-fic is turning out to be Exceeding Ambitious and therefore Nowhere Near Being Finished, so your present will be late, and possibly not all in one piece, especially as the plaid!trenchcoat bit seems to be coming in as Remus' point of view and therefore not compatable with the rest of the story at all. And I need to do some research about British television in 1975. But I do have that drabble you had me write yonks ago that I never actually, um, put anywhere. Because I didn't finish the others. But here it is.

( In which there is Sirius, Regulus, and a record player. )

In other news, I am currently on a frantic quest to find the one-volume of A.A. Milne's works (including all of the Pooh books and his poetry) that Mum says we have, and our apparently-still-intact copy of Dodie Smith's The Hundred and One Dalmatians (you know, the real, witty, very British one, in which there is actually decent pathos & such). Bedim you, boxes. Bedim and confound you, I say! (And yes. I'm on a children's-lit kick. I'm re-reading Peter Pan and I have some E.L. Konigsberg and Inkheart and The Hobbit waiting for me. I am also re-reading The Lord of the Rings *fangirly squee*, but that doesn't count.)

♥ mildly cheerful
♫ "Lie in the Sound", Trespassers William

The Wise and the Lovely is FINISHED and up at

_plentyofpaper. I can barely believe it. Now, of course, I won't be able to write anything for days. Please read and review, lovelies! It would mean quite a lot. And I think I have e-chocolate lying about. No. No one is going to get Remus. Sorry. I'm not giving him out. MINE. HAHA. (I might have semicolon-shaped e-chocolate, though.)

In other news, I have at least three memes that I need to either do or post and am feeling rather guitly about taking an irrationally long time about. I had written out answers to almost all of the five questions that

avendya gave me, and then everything happened, and now I can't find the Text Document I had them in. Bother. I suspect a plotbunny has eaten them.

♥ 'finally!'
♫ "The Mystic's Dream", Loreena McKennitt

Dear Muse,

I'm really very sorry about ignoring you. I am sorry for refusing to let you have any of my cookies. I am extremely sorry for siccing the cat on you when you tried to jostle me awake at two in the morning with one of your propositions. Even if the cat didn't actually do anything but sit limply on your stomach. Which is about all he's ever been capable of doing anyway. Okay. Fine. Throwing the cat was wrong. I admit it. But you were bothering me. Again. Except that your bothering almost always ends up as pretty decent fic, although it's occasionally interrupted by Mum coming in to find me scribbling away and stealing my pen by way of forcing me to go to bed. (In which case I go against my moral judgement and use a pencil. Ugh.)

Since I have been all nice and apologised and whatnot, and kept my commas in order, and everything, won't you please come back from wherever it is you've decided to go on holiday this time? (If you are in Boston, England, or Scotland, I shall hate you, or would, if you were not entirely integral to my writing process.)

- - -

Dear Remus,

Look, I'm sorry about lobbing Webster's Third Edition Unabridged at you. And The Oxford Book of American Poetry. And The Harper Dictionary of Contemporary Usage 1975. [Ohmygosh. I just realised that Remus could have owned that book, except for the fact that it's probably too American. Probably. I don't know. Then again, Dad bought it yonks ago, and if my completely irrational theory is correct--um. Okay. Yes. I am KEEPING MY SANITY tonight.] I am also very sorry for inserting parenthetical comments into your letter. (FINE. BRACKETED. STOP BEING ALL PUNCTUATIONY AT ME AT THIS TIME OF NIGHT.) Er. And perhaps shining the white light at you wasn't the best move. Because interrogating people is almost never going to get them to let you inside their heads. And I may have possibly been really bothersome with all those hints about things you should be doing and certain people you should be reconciling with properly. (I did this with Abramm, too, and he nearly threw me off a parapet. Especially as Maddie was going red. I suppose if you hang out in the Character Lounge, which I know must exist somewhere, you would know this. I'm sure they tell ghastly stories about me there.)

Anyway. Um. It being too late at night, I have lost all sense of sense and punctuation. Er. Just shape up and stop refusing to be written, or I swear I will find the OED and chuck that at you too. Which won't help matters at all, but it will feel nice.

...Sweet Arda. I've been talking to imaginary people again! *flees in shame*

♥ something or other
♫ "Here Comes the Sun", the Beatles

I danced in the rain today.

Er, for "danced", read "stood on the verandah for a very long time", but it's better than watching the rain from the window, right? It smelled so wonderful and spring-like and green. The storm came before anyone had time to get used to the idea that it might--suddenly the sky went dark and everything turned a queer shade of green, and it stormed. It was amazingly dramatic, with rain coming down as enthusiastically if it had just discovered how, and great crashes of thunder and green-white lightening, and all the windows were open, so the freshness drifted in, though our wood floors got rather prosaically splashy, as did the inside of my guitar case, as I was daft enough to leave it open under the window on top of two laundry baskets, as my room is beginning to look like three war zones and a daycare and I really ought to spend a day (or week) making the floor visible again.

(I was wearing my long patchy hippie skirt, however. Surely this should count for something!)

On the writing front, my muse seems to be a) alseep, b) on holiday, or c) on strike. The latter is extremely possible, as I tend to ignore said muse if she harangues me at an inconvenient time. Oddly, I haven't written anything late at night in a while--not on a whim, anyway; the last bits I wrote in The Way the World Ends were the result of me furtively using the computer past midnight, but it was more the sort of occasion upon which I force the words to take shape instead of having them buzzing through my mind until I turn on the lamp and fumble for a pen. My mind has been feeling much more clear today than it has the past several headache-plagued days (need new spectacles, as mine are four or five years old), so perhaps my muse will actually behave, however briefly.

Also, WE ARE GETTING HIGH SPEED INTERNET. Watch me recklessly abandon punctuation in my freakish glee. But ohmysweetword, I can watch movie trailers and music videos and play internet radio ALL DAY LOOOONG. Must get Dad's internet radio recommendations, as he wouldn't stop telling me about all the splendid stuff he listens to at work occasionally with FULL KNOWLEDGE that I can't get any of it on this rubbishly dial-up connection. Bleh. Anyway. High speed = *TWIRLS*

♥ noddish
♫ "Such Great Heights", Iron & Wine

Dear imbecilic reviewer,

Item the First: 'nice, please continue' is not an appreciated comment. If you liked it so much, you could say why. Item the Second: One-shots are not meant to be continued. Nor are fics marked, quite plainly, 'COMPLETED'. Most of my fics are one-shots or glorified short-stories, which means I do not plan to continue them. At all. Ever. I mean it. I may continue to write about the characters used in any given fic, and I may (especially if characters in question are Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks) reference the events of one fic within the body of another, but I am NOT GOING TO CONTINUE WRITING A ONE-SHOT. I'm really very sorry if you are too dim to figure this out.

( cut for the usual rambling )

In other news, I just realised that every single fic I have written or begun writing or thought about writing in the past several weeks has been centered around poetry, based on poetry, or inspired by a line or two of poetry, most of it Eliot, with the one exception being that Sirius-Dylan fic which is still sitting lonesomely in my hard-drive looking for a plot.

♥ swelteringly hot
♫ "Visions of Johanna", Bob Dylan

Dear fellow Remus/Tonks ficcers,

Can you lot please write a greater abundance of stories in which it is not constantly implied (or more than implied) that Remus and Tonks are sleeping with each other? It would be much appreciated. Thank you. Also, think about the psychology of this, please. Despite what you think about premarital sex morally, Remus is not the sort to sleep with anyone he is uneasy about his relationship with! He is also one of the absolute last people I can see having casual sex. *headdesk*

Sincerely,

Me

* * *

Two questions. Firstly, when and how do you theorise a certain Master Sirius Black could have become the possessor of a certain infamous flying motorbike?

Secondly, if you were going to write a many-part series of vignettes centred on Remus, Tonks, and poetry, from their earliest acquaintance during Tonks' childhood (in which Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats is read) to hopefully post-marriage (JKR willing), what would you consider titling it?

♥ here or there
♫ 'on a sea of fleur de lis' - richard shindell

Rhapsody on a Winter Night is still going. I've got three of the verses Remus!proseified, I think. I wrote a good four paragraphs last night when I was supposed to be sleeping, which means that it is extremely difficult to read. Also, I have one of those stupid notebooks where the pages are perforated muchly, so they fall out whenever I so much as use them. I didn't buy it, really; I'm not that masochistic.

Old fics going up at _plentyofpaper. Because I'm the obsessive type. ~~And I'm plugging them. Er.~~

I made dinner today, and managed not to kill, maim, burn, or destroy anything.

Also, I don't know why I am writing this entry, as it is rather dull, but I had this mad urge to write entry. Perhaps I should not always follow urges. In fact, I should be making that Dylan fic behave right now, because I can physically sense ressie_noldo staring at me pointedly from across the ocean, which is creepy in so many ways. Gah. And to the random passer-by, that sounds as if I am actually writing fanfiction about Bob Dylan, which is even creepier than staring-across-continents. I hate real!people fic. It never, ever makes sense. Also, eighty percent of it seems to be the fantasy-fulfilment sort; I'm always seeing Daniel Radcliffe/OC (read: Radcliffe/author) or Orlando Bloom/same, and do they have any bloody idea how magnificently stupid the stories read? Of course, the people are always horribly OOC, because there's no way these little fanbrats know anything about said person's personal life and personality outside the stage, unless they've been around long enough to write nicely detailed memoirs. Even then, it's still CREEPY.

If anyone ever wrote fic about me, I would be deeply disturbed. At least I am not an attractive male actor, as it would be beyond disturbing to ever find a story in which I am in love with some schmaltzy imbecile whom I have never met. I also hate the fact that people publish their Radcliffe/OC and Bloom/OC fics on Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings fanfiction archives. Radcliffe/OC is not Harry Potter fanfiction. AT ALL. Just...no. It has nothing to do with Harry Potter, other than that the movies will be mentioned fannishly before Danny and Susie go to some posh restaurant in a London created by some girl in Idaho who knows nothing about England or English people other than what she gathers from Harry Potter. That's the other thing about real!people fics: they're always so dull, as they mainly consist of wish-fulfilment rubbish in which Author Under Pseudonym (or not, because these ickle fangirls are not known for subtlety) goes on expensive dates with Actor Of Choice and finds out how Humble and Personable said Actor is. Said fics are usually written by the more pink-clad, lipgloss-endowed, and giggly fangirls, so (going from summaries, because the only one I actually read some of was an Orlando/OC that I was considering sporking) they don't generally shag like rabbits. Which is good, because there is no way I want to scar my innocent mind even more. *wince*

Dad just called us over to the sliding glass door to see a pair of ducks sitting in the yard, and Roscoe the cat sitting twenty-five feet away, staring at them and apparently wondering if he should attack them before they attack him. (He won't. He's incapable of attacking anything, even mice. The closest we've ever seen him get was to heroically bat a mouse across the floor, after loads ran past his nose for days. I'd be more worried about the ducks attacking him, if they're anything like swans. A black swan tried to eat me when I was little.)

Also, The Wise and the Lovely is going to be finished, I really do promise. It's just that a) I haven't got to the computer for writing yet, except when I was writing Dylan-loving!Siriusfic (except without the Dylan, because it hasn't got there yet), and I wasn't even supposed to be awake or on the computer, so I didn't want to go upstairs and get Half-Blood Prince, and b) lady_moriel is in Washington, D.C. Waaah.

♥ whew
♫ "Go From My Window", Steeleye Span

You know you are on a steady descent towards madness when you find yourself, in the middle of the night, writing Remusfic that is not only inspired by Eliot's "Rhapsody on a Windy Night", but is actually based on the aforementioned poem.

So, I had this assignment in poetry class: we were supposed to take a poem, turn it into prose, and then turn that back into poetry. I, the ever-faithful student, forgot altogether until, er, two days ago. Since I have absolutely no model for this (Ben Franklin used to do it as an exercise, but I don't know if any of the poems > prose > poems survived, or where I can find them if they did), I kind of dawdled nervously, until last night, when I thought, "oh plague, it's due tomorrow, and I haven't got anything at all!" So I paged through poetry, trying to find something I could turn into prose.

Poetry is hard to turn into prose! I suppose you've guessed this already. Most poetry is about an emotion, a person, an event. It has characters, or one character, generally. As a last resort, I was looking through my tattered Eliot book, and thought, "well, this is all madness, but 'Rhapsody on a Windy Night' rather has promise, and all the references to the moon are...rather Remusy, and...OH NO." And then I wrote it. It's not done yet, and I may not even have it done for class, but at least I can say I tried. And am going mad.

(And yes, you lot will see it at some point.)

♥ I did what?
♫ "Tension Is A Passing Note", Sixpence None The Richer

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la la la la
i choose instead to dwell in my disasters (or, meta that sort of got lost on the way)
hastily before hunting down food
things feel good today
apparently all of my memes have to do with writing
hey, remember that time?
one more good reason not to lurk in the more jungley bits of ff.net
another good reason not to scan ff.net
further proof of my fangirlish nature
Readerly Insanity
...
Happy Birthday, Noldo!
ZOMG I DID IT
More Letter Thingummys
Sanity & Insanity
A Not-So-Open Letter
shamelessly ficcish
In Which There Is Nothing Of Especial Consquence
Madness on a Windy Night

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my heart is a glorious machine;

Entries tagged with fanfiction

la la la la

i choose instead to dwell in my disasters (or, meta that sort of got lost on the way)

hastily before hunting down food

things feel good today

apparently all of my memes have to do with writing

hey, remember that time?

one more good reason not to lurk in the more jungley bits of ff.net

another good reason not to scan ff.net

further proof of my fangirlish nature

Readerly Insanity

...

Happy Birthday, Noldo!

ZOMG I DID IT

More Letter Thingummys

Sanity & Insanity

A Not-So-Open Letter

shamelessly ficcish

In Which There Is Nothing Of Especial Consquence

Madness on a Windy Night