maculategiraffe: (Default)
Okay, so this bit is totally nonrequired reading for the story-- I wasn't even planning to post it, was just trying to get a couple of cultural details ironed out while I fiddle around with the last three chapters (because I still suck at endings)-- but then I remembered how annoyed a couple of you got when Leah took Kyle's book away, and figured someone might find it interesting. So!

(Let's get down to business/ To defeat the Huns!)


Excerpt from The Origins of Power, chapter 6, "Psychopompai"

Complete with footnotes )
maculategiraffe: (the universe)
I'm alive, just very busy with RL. Apologies and many many thanks to you all for your wonderful, kind, thoughtful, thought-provoking comments. Going to need to do massive weekend catchup again to respond to them all properly.

In the meantime, here's me rambling about which bits of the psyche write the best fiction, plus thoughts on why Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series doesn't exactly work for me but also doesn't enrage me the way certain other badly written insanely popular books do (*coughDANBROWNIWILLDESTROYYOUCOUGH*).

You can't see the stars, love. That's the ceiling. Also, it's day. )
maculategiraffe: (Default)
Okay, I was thinking more about this while I was at the grocery store.

The bit about Harry Potter in a recent entry, expanded into a more long-winded lecture on the subject of Harry Potter and elemental affinities. )


(My husband, on pre-reading this: "You think a lot about Harry Potter, huh?")
maculategiraffe: (Default)
I discovered this site while googling for cool eyepatches, and ever since then, I've been playing around on it whenever I'm having to sit still and I'm too jumpy to read (or write, or knit) anything more substantial. Just found this page. Intrigued!

And when I am intrigued, lo, I ramble! )
maculategiraffe: (Default)
He'll wrap you in his arms, tell you that you've been a good boy
He'll rekindle all the dreams it took you a lifetime to destroy
He'll reach deep into the hole, heal your shrinking soul
And there won't be a single thing that you can do


-Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, "Red Right Hand"

So, I'm actually gonna post something here.

You can probably tell from my userinfo why I created this journal. I'm a kinky bitch and have been from my cradle (I have distinct memories of getting excited by Lady Aberlin curtseying and murmuring with her eyes demurely downcast, "Correct as usual, King Friday" on Mister Rogers' Neighborhood). It wasn't until fairly recently (yes, I live under a rock) that I realized I wasn't the only one who found this sort of thing irresistible-- and always had, from before my sexuality had even really emerged-- and it wasn't until a couple of weeks ago that I found the [livejournal.com profile] slavefics community on here. Then I saw [livejournal.com profile] lapillus' fascinating post on what she likes about slave-oriented fiction. I'm not going to attempt a cool thorough analytical look at my preferences and the reasons behind them at this stage, but I did decide to write out a few of the things that distinctly Work or Do Not Work for me and maybe a poke at why, because this really is the kind of thing I find interesting, and for a lot of my life, as much as I tend to think and overthink, this is something I haven't thought about, because I thought I was just weird and messed up. Which, maybe I am, but hey, at least I'm not the only one. :)

Things I don't like )




Things I like )




Bookshelf )

HP drabble

Jun. 18th, 2007 11:57 pm
maculategiraffe: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] rdwind (here): "Harry Potter... I want a HP drabble... uhm, slash (because there really isn't anything else)"

Well spoken, sir or madam!



"Professor, no!"

Flitwick, his wand pointed at his heart, glanced up. It had been a very bad day, and the young man shouting at him from the door of his classroom wasn’t making it any better.

Charms– from Wingardium Leviosa on– had saved Harry’s life more times than he could count, and he acted on instinct:

"Accio!"

Flitwick collided with a broad chest. Harry held his schoolboy crush close.

"You can't kill yourself, sir," he whispered. "I love you."

Flitwick blinked.

"I was just going to perform a Cheering Charm on myself," he squeaked apologetically. "But I like this better."

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